#i do think it's an interesting case of bringing in young new talent who immediately crushes what seemed like an unrecastable role

[krawdad]

I haven't been able to put my finger on it yet but something about Ryan Dillon's elmo comes across as significantly less abrasive to me than Kevin Clash's. And I don't think it's the voice despite all odds he is nailing the voice.

[winterscaptain]

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?” 

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile. 

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement. 

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…” 

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask. 

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.” 

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?” 

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship. 

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you. 

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?” 

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire. 

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you. 

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents. 

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner. 

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure. 

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other. 

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall. 

This is fun. 

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.” 

+++. 

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU. 

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment. 

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.” 

That doesn’t sound good. 

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates. 

No pressure. 

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.” 

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.” 

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales. 

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side. 

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.” 

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss. 

What the fuck? 

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which. 

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are. 

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch. 

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes. 

Not what I expected.

What did you expect? 

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe? 

Shut up. 

He’s handsome. 

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.” 

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.” 

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?” 

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it. 

It might be. 

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless. 

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner. 

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much. 

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen. 

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. 

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?” 

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you. 

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely. 

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.” 

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow. 

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.” 

That pulls a laugh from you. 

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.” 

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room. 

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details. 

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places. 

He wants them found, and fast. 

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors? 

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.” 

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin. 

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs. 

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat. 

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do. 

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch. 

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way. 

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.” 

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.” 

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable. 

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical. 

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -” 

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.” 

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.” 

It’s not a question. 

You’re confused. 

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.” 

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for. 

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made. 

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.” 

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them. 

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long. 

To your credit, you ignore them. 

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot. 

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else. 

“I’m liking it,” you reply. 

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.” 

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.” 

“I am terrified.” 

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -” 

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.” 

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.” 

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.” 

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.” 

“What’s the other half?” 

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.” 

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office. 

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime. 

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files. 

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.” 

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head. 

“Then...what?” 

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.” 

+++

“Hey, Derek?” 

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice. 

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?” 

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?” 

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.” 

You wait on him, watching him watch the road. 

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.” 

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp. 

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.” 

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.” 

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.” 

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch? 

Because he’s the unit chief. 

I know but…

Don’t read into it. 

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed. 

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.” 

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk. 

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure. 

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on. 

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going. 

There’s nothing to complain about. 

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative. 

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after. 

It’s not in their nature, or his. 

He starts to type. 

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon. 

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates. 

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny. 

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about. 

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing. 

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past. 

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same. 

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute. 

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet. 

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work. 

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent. 

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings. 

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic. 

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.”  He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case. 

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?” 

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch. 

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after. 

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried. 

“Too long,” he supplies. 

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair. 

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression. 

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials. 

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up. 

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork. 

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head). 

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning. 

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file. 

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself. 

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners. 

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…” 

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Good job in the briefing, today.” 

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table. 

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.” 

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch. 

Success. 

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.” 

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.” 

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.” 

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.” 

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.” 

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip. 

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?” 

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. - 

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz. 

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.” 

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?” 

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -” 

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.” 

“Good.” 

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -” 

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.” 

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner. 

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you. 

Maybe you could just get used to this place.   

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink. 

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep. 

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon. 

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light. 

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife. 

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “ 

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...” 

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.” 

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.  

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation. 

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity. 

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.” 

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone. 

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent. 

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.” 

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can. 

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.” 

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it. 

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.” 

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure. 

You are sure, though, that this was a test. 

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense. 

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.” 

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?” 

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.” 

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable. 

Hotch is...safe. Somehow. 

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.” 

“What?” 

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?” 

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.” 

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file. 

“He’s right.” 

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?” 

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.” 

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.” 

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in. 

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook. 

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised. 

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -” 

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone. 

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?” 

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.” 

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk. 

She calls him Aaron. 

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name. 

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted. 

Aaron. 

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can. 

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.” 

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it? 

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting. 

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time. 

None of your business. 

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again. 

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport. 

You can do this. 

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.” 

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?” 

Humor. Play off her disappointment. 

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.” 

To your surprise, she laughs a little. 

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering. 

Success. 

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?” 

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues - 

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.” 

“Of course.” 

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing. 

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?” 

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask. 

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room. 

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look up. 

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.” 

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.” 

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.” 

This is above my pay grade. 

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -” 

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?” 

He shakes his head. “Any advice?” 

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade. 

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate. 

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles. 

Separate from the things that make him human. 

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home. 

It must be lonely. 

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally. 

Well, all except Emily. 

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you. 

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words. 

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say. 

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?” 

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.” 

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear. 

Another part of you already knows the answer. 

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you. 

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board. 

“What’s with that?” 

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.” 

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.” 

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.” 

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.” 

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread. 

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself. 

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly. 

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down. 

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months. 

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. 

I live in a circus. 

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again. 

Fuck it. 

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate. 

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” 

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.” 

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body. 

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?” 

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.” 

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board. 

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice. 

You turn. “Yeah?” 

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room. 

“Did she ever what?” 

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.” 

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door. 

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily. 

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before. 

This isn’t good. 

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense. 

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley. 

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours. 

She texts back after a minute. 

5:43pm Thanks. 

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case. 

Your eyes wander across the cabin. 

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window. 

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading. 

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched. 

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails. 

“Emily.” 

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding. 

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history. 

You know better. It’s just clouds. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny. 

5:58pm How’s it going? 

You huff a little laugh down your nose. 

5:58pm Rough day. 

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?” 

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.” 

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.” 

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze. 

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You should go, if she’s offering.” 

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.” 

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. 

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps. 

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs. 

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel. 

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.” 

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell. 

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch. 

“What happened?” 

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.” 

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?” 

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.” 

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.” 

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.” 

“How’s your team?” 

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…” 

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country. 

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?” 

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.” 

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder. 

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark. 

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net. 

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?” 

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere. 

Weird. 

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door. 

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little. 

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?” 

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off. 

Far from it. 

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.” 

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile. 

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.” 

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?” 

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.” 

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad​ @angelsbabey​ @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid​ @captain-christopher-pike​ @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em​ @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @dreila03​ @forgottenword​ @aaronhotchnerr​ @ssa-morgan​ @sana-li​ @tegggeeee​ @abschaffer2​ @ssacandice-ray​ @ellyhotchner​ @lotties-journey-abroad​ @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ @mooneylupinblack​ @ssareidbby​ @bwbatta​ @roses-and-grasses​ @capricorngf​ @missdowntonabbey​ @averyhotchner​ @mandylove1000​ @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor​ @spencers-hoodrat​ @popped-weasels​ @evee87​ @nuvoleincielo​ @this-broken-band-girl​ @reidtomestyles​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @winqhster​ @the-falling-in-the-danger​ @iconicc​ @mangoberry43​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @kerrswriting​ @mac99martin​ @itsalwaysb33nyou​ @baumarvel​ @messyhairday-me​ @ssworldofsw​  @deagibs​ @crazyshannonigans​ @moonshinerbynight​ @jhiddles03​ @teamhappyme​ @mendesmelodies​ @starsandasteroids​ @unicorn-bitch​ @ambicaos​ @bispences​

[4ragon]

I'm not the original anonymous but I would extremely want to see that essay about Apollo's trust issues.

Also since I just finished Spirit of Justice, do you think Lamiroir ever told Trucy/Apollo about her and if so what would be their reactions?

Let’s see if I can write this up without crying again like I did on twitter.

So a while ago a friend of mine asked me why I liked Apollo, and I really couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew he was my favorite, but unlike Simon Blackquill, I hadn’t done that deep dive into figuring out why. I’d always just sort of loved him, and was never able to pinpoint the part that made me care about him so much. It drove me crazy, too, I love rambling about characters that I love, and I love writing from Apollo’s perspective more than anything. So why did I love him? Why did I care about him?

Well. I figured it out. I figured out my answer.

I think there are two things that characterize Apollo more than anything. One: He has trust issues. He genuinely believes that the people around him don’t give a shit about him. Especially after being betrayed multiple times in that first trial, he truly and deeply believes that the people around him are only trying to hurt him and is too scared to really believe that they care about him.

And two: He cares so much about the people around him that he constantly helps them anyway.

So like. And I won’t tag her because I don’t think she’d appreciate it, but I was watching the laquilasse AA4 stream last night, and the entire opening of Turnabout Corner is so striking to me, especially right after the end of Turnabout Trump. At the end of Turnabout Trump, Apollo’s trust and belief in Phoenix is finally and thoroughly shattered, and Apollo lashes out, punching Phoenix in the face. And for good reason! That was a huge breach of trust! Apollo literally did the exact thing that got Phoenix disbarred, namely present evidence that wasn’t real. Sure, they never exactly claimed it was the real deal, but Apollo didn’t even know it was faked, he just trusted Phoenix and this new piece of evidence and it almost fucked him over. It did sort of fuck him over, he did lose his job and his Mentor.

And then, Phoenix calls him and says that they’re in trouble, and Apollo doesn’t even question it, of course he shows up to help.

Like. You can feel how much he mistrusts Trucy on their first meeting, in everything he does and says. Especially when Trucy and Phoenix are in the same room, he’s actively thinking about how he doesn’t ‘buy their act’ when Phoenix is calling Trucy daughter-ly nicknames. And then, in a way, he’s kind of right? They guilt him into essentially being their errand boy, and I feel like they’re constantly and loudly using him throughout so much of the game.

And Apollo was there anyway. Apollo doesn’t even trust them and he’s still there the first instant Phoenix says he needs his help.

Like you can loudly do and say whatever you want and crush his dreams and betray his trust, and despite everything, there’s always that part of Apollo that desperately needs to help anyone who asks him. He can’t even bring himself to trust them, and he’s still crawling back the moment someone needs him, ready to let them disappoint him over again.

Like this struck me about Apollo from the moment I played AA4, but he’s so lonely? And desperate for connection? He cares so much about a world that has always and consistently never cared about him, and he just keeps caring and keeps caring even as that starry-eyed naivete is ripped away. And I feel like he just wants someone to care about him back, but never really able to believe that they do, because they never really seem to, because every time he allows himself to trust it’s just thrown back in his face so horribly.

Here’s an interesting thing I noticed: in Turnabout Trump, there’s a really interesting line. Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being the murderer, the extra person in the room. Kristoph takes the stand and claims to have witnessed the moment Phoenix committed the murder. And this exchange happens:

Apollo: There must have been someone else there at the moment of the crime!

Kristoph: Justice... I just said I saw no one. Not a soul.

Apollo: B-But, that goes against what Mr. Wright said!

Kristoph: Ah yes, this mysterious "fourth person"... ...who would conveniently be the "real killer", I suppose.

And this is well past the point where Phoenix has accused Kristoph of being that person. There’s no possibility at this point that they’re both innocent, it’s either one or the other. And Apollo is still so desperately trying to find a way for them both to be innocent, basically saying, “Just give me a fourth person and I’ll believe you.” And then Kristoph turned out to be a monster, and then Phoenix turned out to have betrayed Apollo from the start, and as far as Apollo is ever aware, none of the care from either of these men was ever real. He trusted, and he suffered the consequences.

But again. He’s still there. Someone pointed out a while ago, but Apollo stays. Apollo shows up to the Wright Talent Agency under false pretenses, and he complains and hems and haws, and he still stays. Why?

Phoenix and Trucy loudly manipulate him into working their case. They’re perfectly happy to flaunt that they’re basically tricking him. And he stays. Why?

Because Apollo can’t trust them, but he wants to so fucking bad. He doesn’t even seem to like Phoenix that much, but he wants that connection so fucking bad. He cares about them so much and he doesn’t believe for a second that they extend that feeling back at him, and he’s compelled to stay anyway.

He knows Trucy is practically using him, and he’s a sobbing mess when he thinks she was kidnapped for a few minutes. He’s cynical and mean and it’s all just to cover up the fact that he loves all these people around him with all his heart and they never once pay it back. And he comes back anyway. He’s like a fucking loyal dog that is never given enough affection and so he’s constantly trying harder and harder to earn that love while never believing he’ll ever really get it.

(Shit nope crying again)

It’s just so sad. And this is all without adding anything from the 3D games. The 3D games do build on this theme in one way or another, but from the get go, this is who Apollo is. A caring young man who is constantly punished for caring and yet can’t stop caring anyway.

We see it again in the 3D games. And I think part of why I don’t enjoy DD as much as SoJ is that DD doesn’t capture this mistrust the same way. It’s so surface level, that sense of betrayal and mistrust and anger he gets consumed by in that final case. And the worst part is it doesn’t have to be! There’s already that foundation! Apollo has been hurt already a million times. The only person he’s ever been able to trust, the only lifeline that’s kept him above water since he was a child, was Clay Terran, and now that was taken from him because he DARED to trust someone new. That’s so fucking compelling! But we never get that! We never get to see how Apollo is feeling. We get that he’s convinced Athena did the murder, but never really get into the Why, into the What This Means for Apollo.

It’s a bit better in SoJ. We see how far he’s come in terms of trusting people when he trusts in Trucy wholly and immediately in case two. And then, conversely, we see his mistrust and hurt when they introduce Dhurke into the mix. Apollo refuses point blank to believe that Dhurke had come to visit him, that Dhurke cared about him. Apollo demands to know why Dhurke was there, what Dhurke wanted, how Dhurke was going to use him. He’s been able to slowly start building that trust with people like Trucy, but he still cannot let himself trust again when Dhurke had already betrayed that trust.

I said it before, but as much as I hate the slapdash ways in which Capcom keeps throwing backstory at this boy, I love what the backstories are, because they build on this angry, cynical, lonely young man I care about so much. He’s been hurt and abandoned and used and betrayed since he was young, and being good never truly paid off for so long, but he kept doing it, he kept being good, he kept caring about people because he couldn’t help it, and kept hoping that maybe they could care back. And eventually I think it does start paying off for him. People do start caring about him. And I feel like it takes until around SoJ for him to start really believing that the people around him might care about him too.

Also congrats on finishing SoJ! Since there’s a very good chance that they might be announcing AA7 soon, I...hope? fear? expect? that they’ll touch on this then. However, I also worry that they’re going to botch it up so hard.

I know what I want to happen. I want Trucy to be angry. I want her to be angry at Lamiroir and Phoenix. She is constantly putting on a mask to try to make the people she loves happy, and I feel like this is a reasonable breaking point. After all, this is kind of the one thing that Phoenix hasn’t been honest with her about. She had a brother right there, and knew the whole time?! She had a mother there the whole time?! And no one bothered to tell her?! I think she’d be heartbroken, and I think she deserves to be angry. She’s been through so much, and they never give her time to really grieve or be upset.

I think Apollo would be ecstatic and angry at the same time. All he’s ever wanted was family, and now he does! He already loved Trucy, and thought Lamiroir was amazing, so I think he would be so happy to have that family back in his life. On the flip side, I do think he’d be angry at Phoenix, particularly for keeping it to himself before Lamiroir came into the picture, but I think if they talked it out, Apollo would come around to it and be able to forgive Phoenix.

[hopelesshawks]

Ash and Dust Part 7- Opportunities

18+ Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Masterlist Help Lulu (Kofi)

Waking up the morning after reclaiming your bedroom (at least in part) is jarring for two reasons.

The first is that you’re waking up next to Dabi.

For some reason you thought he might wake up before you, even though he’s pretty routinely demonstrated that he’s not an early riser. Perhaps you expected the knowledge that he was sleeping in the same bed as you to perturb him enough to get him up early. Instead your eyelashes had fluttered open to find him still deeply asleep with his face only a few inches from yours.

You fully intended on simply rolling over to either fall back asleep or get on with your day but you’d found yourself enthralled with his sleeping face instead. You know Dabi’s smirks, sneers, and scowls like the back of your hand after a little over a month of living with him. His resting face, however, is entirely foreign to you. You’ve never had a moment alone with him where he wasn’t antagonizing you and it’s odd to see him so peaceful. Your eyes trace over his face, taking in the extent of the scarring on his jaw and beneath his eyes, but also appreciating the unmarred expanses of skin as well. It strikes you that Dabi is pretty. It shouldn’t be surprising considering what you’ve seen of the youngest Todoroki in the press but even still. In another world where he’d never become the wanted criminal he is today, you wonder if he’d be a heartbreaker or a sweet, gentle type. Would he be as quiet and polite as his brother seems to be or would he still get a thrill from bantering with someone who isn’t afraid to banter right back? Would he be in the tabloids with a different girl every week or settle down early with his high school sweetheart? You’re fascinated by the idea of what the scarred man before you would be without the tragedy and the trauma. You might’ve sat there just taking him in until he woke up if not for the second reason waking up that morning was so jarring.

Your phone has been pinging literally non-stop.

You’ve never resented your notification sound more as its shrill tone continues to echo in your room, putting the fragile peace at risk. Even before you found yourself as alone as you are now your phone was never this busy. As much as you try to ignore it and wait for the tidal wave of what you assume are spam notifications to end, the sound finally drives you to turn over and grab it. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer amount of Twitter notifications you have. As you unlock your phone and navigate over to the app your mentions are literally flooded with Deku fans screaming about your talent and how lucky you are. It’s a confusing litany of fangirling that you try to weed through until you get to one mention in particular that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You got a mention from the rising hero himself.

Holy shit.

You’ve never clicked a tweet so quickly in your entire life. Not only are you stunned to find he’s seen and loved your work but he also mentions wanting to talk if you’re interested. Sure enough, when you navigate over to the messages section of the app, a feature you’ve never bothered to use, you notice a message request from Midoriya ‘Deku’ Izuku waiting for you. It takes everything in you not to scream as you read the message there over and over before finally hopping out of bed and moving to the kitchen to call the number he’d left you. It’s a little endearing that he’d been so quick to hand out his number to a complete stranger on the internet but you also can’t help but wonder how someone so naive could be the same man drawing headlines over his heroics and combat skill. You’re not exactly a Deku fangirl but it’s still wild to be dialing a celebrity’s number as you punch in the numbers and then wait for it to ring.

On literally the second ring the phone is answered. “Pro Hero Deku at your service! Who’s calling?” the young man answers chirpily. “Uhh, this is (y/l/n)? You messaged me on twitter?” “Oh! Right! Yes! Hello! One second!”

You can hear Deku excusing himself from whatever room he’s in, a disgruntled voice mumbling something you can’t hear, causing Deku to reply with a hushed “Sorry Kacchan! I’ll be right back!” before there’s more shuffling and finally the sound of a heavy door closing.

“Ok I’m back! Thanks for reaching out to me so quickly!” he finally says now that he’s, apparently, in a better place to talk.

“Yea, of course I guess I’m just shocked you liked my art so much and really appreciate you drawing so much attention to it,” you explain, feeling short of breath at how surreal the situation is.

“Of course! You’re really talented! Your work deserves to get attention!”

“Thank you but, uh, why exactly did you want me to call you?”

“Right! It’s about your artwork.”

“Ok?”

“I want to sell it!”

“What?”

“Wait well no not sell it. Or not sell that particular piece although it is a nice piece and if you wanted to theoretically you could probably sell it although I guess it’s available for free online already so maybe people wouldn’t want to pay for it. Although it’s a painting right? And people buy or pay to go see paintings you can see online all the time so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad but if it’s for your own enjoyment you may not want to give it up which would be totally understandable and also how would that work logistically? If the painting is rather large it may be unwieldy to try and ship it to whoever purchases it, in which case would you have to meet up to try and give it to them by hand? But then that necessitates meeting up with a complete stranger on the internet and what if the person who buys it doesn’t live near you or, since it is the internet, doesn’t even live in Japan? Then you have to contend with international shipping and-”

“Uhh, Deku?” you ask cautiously, barely able to process the mumbling of the young man on the phone.

“Ah! Sorry! I can kinda end up on tangents sometimes... What I mean to say is that I’m not trying to sell the painting you posted or anything but I think you’re really talented as an artist and one of my friends is looking for someone to design a new merch collection.”

One of his friends? Your mind instantly starts running through his impressive list of ex classmates. Your first thought is Dynamight and immediately you shudder at the idea. He may be years younger than you but the aggressive pro hero still scares the shit out of you. Uravity could be an interesting hero to work with although you’re not quite sure you vibe with her aesthetic. Or maybe he’s talking about the new Ingenium?

“You’re real fucking loud in the mornings, you know that Doll?” Dabi asks with a groan as he comes walking into the room with a stretch.

You hurry to shush him, not wanting to lose the opportunity being presented to you, which earns you a curious look. Before you can react Dabi is snatching your phone out of your hand and putting it on speaker. You don’t dare protest verbally and risk alerting Deku of the situation so you have to settle for glaring at Dabi as he smirks at you.

“Yea so, anyway, Shouto really needs new merch but wanted something a little more sophisticated on the designs and I feel like you’d be perfect for that you know? Making all his stuff mini works of art. So what do you say?” Deku asks, his voice still brimming with that same enthusiasm while your blood runs cold. You’re genuinely scared to look up at Dabi’s face to see what he thinks about the idea of you working with his little brother. You hold your breath, Deku’s chipper voice going nervous as he asks “Hello? You still there?”

To your immense surprise, when you finally have the courage to bring your eyes up to meet Dabi’s, he’s got an almost feral grin. “You better take the fucking job,” he hisses delightedly, sending a chill down your spine as you stutter out a response to Deku, your eyes never leaving Dabi’s.

“Yea, sorry just processing. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Great! I’ll pass your number on to Shouto and you two can meet up and figure out details!”

“Ok.”

“Cool, thanks (y/l/n)! Hopefully I’ll see you around!”

You hum noncommittally before hanging up the phone, still waiting for the other shoe to drop as you practically watch the gears turning in Dabi’s head.

“You’re…. Not mad I’m going to be working with your brother?” you ask cautiously.

“Oh no, I’m fucking delighted Doll. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna help me have a little fun.”

A/N: We are finally starting to get to the meat of the story omg. I’m sorry this fic has been so slow going, especially compared to my others, but if you stick with I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it. I appreciate each and every one of y’all that’s been reading this fic because main motivation to write it has been hard

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​

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[chibimyumi]

Autopsy of Weston Arc

A few days ago I visited a beloved friend @sweetbunny8, and we were bitching about the Boarding School Arc together. That friend is so incredibly smart, she brought up amazing points I never thought about... and so we spent the afternoon facepalming, discussing how many missed potentials there were. The below are the 5 points we talked about, on FIRE🔥🔥🔥!

1. The Arc owes us a thorough Power Dynamic Swap

I think the biggest draw of Kuroshitsuji is the unusual power dynamic between our protagonists. It would have been amazing to see a thoroughly explored power dynamic swap between master and servant.

The manga did touch upon this swap, and it gave us a delicious appetiser of what this Arc could have been. I really would love loved to see more of how Sebas and O!Ciel would deal with their cognitive dissonance of role.

Our Ciel

O!Ciel was raised in a world where the roles of servant vs master are very distinct. To O!Ciel it must have been very weird to now suddenly be subordinate to his servant. I would have loved to see if O!Ciel found it uncomfortable, or just really fun to try something new without stakes, or how his habits would slip through. In the Circus Arc we saw very clearly how both Sebas and O!Ciel still succumbed to their habits, thereby accidentally drawing unwanted attention.

Doing so in the Weston Arc would not have been a carbon copy of the Circus Arc, because unlike at the circus now O!Ciel would be performing in a more familiar environment with people of comparable status. I really wish we could have seen more of that.

Sebastian

Sebas would also have been a blast to see in a likely unprecedented role for him. In this post I argued how Sebas was probably never given opportunity to interact for real with humans on close proximity, and how he was probably not ever considered more than a mass-destruction weapon. It would have been very interesting to see how Sebas would handle suddenly being surrounded by people who don’t just interact, but are also subordinate to him as a teacher!

I find it unlikely Sebas ever had the experience of playing a superiour role to his own master. Sebas loves testing his limits with his master, and it would have been a blessing to see how Sebas could now “legally” exploit his own position of power over his master. I’m sure he would have gotten a kink out of it.

2. Planning and Calculation???

It would have been logical and responsible if the Queen just told her Watchdog what House Derek was in for O!Ciel to investigate. A “P.S. He’s in Red House according to the latest information btw, loves - Vicky” would not be too much asked. She knows Derek’s parents, and I can’t imagine the March of Arden being secretive about what House the kid is in. But even if Victoria didn’t do the efficient thing, we still would have loved it if O!Ciel had to discuss with Sebas and strategically choose a House to get into, rather than him just being planted in Blue House.

My friend thought O!Ciel would have chosen Red House regardless of whether he knew for sure where he’d be, because as the nephew of the Queen, Derek being in Red was the most logical. As an actual Lorded Earl himself, O!Ciel would have a decent chance holding down a position in Red House. And considering how Redmond has a talent for choosing awful personalities for fag, O!Ciel would have fit in perfectly too!

Then O!Ciel’s goal could still have been to become a prefect’s fag, but then the showdown with Maurice would at least have direct, immediate conflict, rather than... whatever it was the manga did. Maurice had NO reason to neutralise O!Ciel as long as they’re in different Houses! Maurice you... boring, inefficient, redundant twat...

3. Yana... is Edward a joke to you?

Why didn’t O!Ciel/Yana capitalise more on Edward being at Weston?! It would have been a perfect chance to develop Edward further and show O!Ciel’s interaction with family! I love Lizzie, but it would have been amazing to see Edward interacting with our protagonist without his sister being the reason for interaction. UGH 💔

Also, the cricket drag could have been shortened dramatically if O!Ciel had thought of using Edward. Edward has been at the Weston for longer, and he is a prefect’s fag to boot.

Sure, O!Ciel didn’t know that at first, but he finds out BEFORE the cricket was set up. The moment O!Ciel would learn that he’d need to win cricket to meet the principal, he should have gambled on Edward. If O!Ciel explained to Edward that he is investigating the disappearance of the Queen’s relative, I can’t imagine Edward not being willing to help by winning cricket in becoming “the chosen one” through gentlemanly play. That’d be what Edward would be aspiring to become, anyway.

4. Why Cricket ANYWAY!?

Even IF Edward for some reason refused to help, the cricket would still entirely have been unnecessary. It wouldn’t matter at all who would win, because as the prefect’s fag, Edward had the privilege to attend the Midnight Tea Party ANYWAY. All four prefect fags are present, as we all can see. O!Ciel would only have needed to ask Edward to act as his agent, and tadaaa.

Besides, even IF Edward didn’t exist in the arc it’d still be entirely fine, because all the prefects would SURELY have access to the Party. That is known. O!Ciel only needed to tell Sebas to keep an eye on where the definitive participants would be going, and track them. When push comes to shove, Sebas could just barge in like he did anyway (and bring O!Ciel even if he’s uninvited), and the case would still have unfolded the way it did.

5. PLOT HOLE!?

My friend also brought up a humongous plot hole so large it became a space on its own that I didn’t even notice it was a hole. Why did the prefects react so differently to Agares and Derek being “alive” respectively?

So, my friend and I both watched the musical adaptation as the last thing, and in the musical the prefects were all being totally chill about Agares being around, but shocked shitless to see Derek back. All four prefects were present during the killing of Derek AND Agares, so they should all know both are dead. It had not been addressed in the musical that the prefects have knowledge of corpse reanimation, so they shouldn’t have been able to act so normal next to Agares, but freak out about seeing Derek. (This is yet another example of WHO IS YOUR TARGET AUDIENCE, KUROMY21!?)

In the manga it had been addressed that the prefects have knowledge that reanimation of the dead is possible. And it seems like Redmond arranged for the reanimation of at least Agares. But why didn’t they arrange for the reanimation of Derek too? (@chibmib​ Thanks sis, for checking this for me so I didn’t have to suffer through it again)

Derek is the Queen’s relative, his disappearance would really have invited suspicion, as it indeed did. The reason the P4 didn’t arrange for Derek’s reanimation can’t be because the they considered Derek too evil to bring back. Agares was namely arguably worse; he was an adult and the vice-principal! It was his literal job to be responsible.

The P4 couldn’t have decided to not reanimate Derek for fear of him ratting them out for assault. There are plenty witnesses of Derek’s crimes, and the P4 would be first-hand witnesses too of Derek’s lying. If Derek told the authorities he was assaulted, all witnesses could have helped testify for the P4 against Derek.

The only reason I can make sense of the double standard in the P4′s reaction is that Undertaker told the P4 he only succeeded in reanimating Agares and not Derek, because the technology is still very young; which would have been true too. BUT THEN THE MANGA SHOULD HAVE ADDRESSED IT.

Even if that’s what happened though, the P4′s reaction shouldn’t have been such horrified surprise. They should be relieved to see the Queen’s relative alive, because then they wouldn’t have ‘murder of Queen’s relative’ on their résumé. All they had to do instead then is explain why they attacked Derek in a moment of lost control at the sight of a future-prefect being a lowlife. And again, the victims could have helped testify...

And this all would only have happened if we momentarily accept the unlikeliness of Sebas coincidentally having a plugged nose and not smelling Agares’ corpse stench the entire Arc.

[raimispiderman]

From the booklet which comes with the Spider-Man Trilogy Limited Edition Collection blu-ray!

This talks about the making of Spider-Man 2, here’s the bit about the first Spider-Man movie.

Click for a transcript:

THE EVOLUTION OF A SUPERHERO

“It was truly gratifying and even a bit overwhelming to witness how strongly moviegoers around the world reacted to Spider-Man,” said director Sam Raimi. “As a filmmaker, I always want people to really enjoy my movies, and on that level, Spider-Man exceeded my expectations.”

After the triumph of the first Spider-Man, Raimi knew he had a responsibility to follow it up with a story that justified the fans’ enthusiasm and their built-in expectations for the next adventure. “There’s great interest in this movie, following the success of the first one,” he acknowledged. “For the kids who come to see it, Spider-Man is their hero. So while the job of making this movie is to provide entertainment, it is also to create a story that shows them a moral character, someone who has to make tough choices and the right decisions in order to continue to be worthy of their admiration.”

The wealth of detailed stories and characters in the Spider-Man comic book series provided a mother lode from which to cull the plot for Spider-Man 2. “The Marvel artists and writers have done a great job through the decades – I know, because I’m a big fan myself – so there’s a tremendous amount of good material to draw upon,” noted Raimi. “Finding a storyline wasn’t that difficult. It was finding the right story, the one that made for a proper follow-up installment, and provided a logical progression for the audience and a logical growth for the character. For the, I relied on the terrific storytelling instincts of my very fine producers Laura Ziskin and Avi Arad. Together with the contributions of our great writers, we found a plot line with ideas that reverberated.”

With the storyline of the new adventure locked, Arad looked forward to the reunion of the Spider-Man filmmaking family, not the least of which was Tobey Maguire. “Tobey was so happy to be Spider-Man again and to be Peter Parker,” said Arad. “As an actor Tobey relished deepening the audience’s understanding of who Peter Parker is and who is becoming,” added Ziskin. “Peter’s a man who is transition, someone who’s struggling with the choices he is making.”

Maguire added, “The theme ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ is never lost on Peter. It’s difficult to be a young man and have to sacrifice as much as he has – presumably for the greater good – and to neglect his personal desires. The struggle continues here and it’s quite complicated, because Peter’s searching desperately for a way to achieve some balance in his life.”

 As Peter becomes more immersed in his dilemma, it creates a rift between him and the important people in his life. Though his love for MJ is stronger than ever, she has moved on with her life, pursuing an acting career, living in Manhattan and moving in new social circles. “In this film, Peter is off in his own world and not a reliable presence in MJ’s life,” explained Kirsten Dunst. “She still loves him a great deal, so it has become painful for her to be around him. Though they’ve both done a lot of growing up in the past two years, at the same time, they’ve drifted apart.”

Then, as if Peter’s life were not complicated enough, the situation moves from bad to worse – much worse. Enter Doc Ock.

Dr. Otto Octavius (Alfred Molina) is a brilliant scientist whose life work has been dedicated to experiments utilizing fusion as a new source of energy. Charming, vibrant and energetic, Dr. Octavius is introduced to Peter by Harry Osborn.

“This movie is the story of Peter’s life, which is out of balance, and Dr. Octavius who, for Peter, represents someone who has achieved that balance,” explained Raimi.

“Peter sees Octavius as somebody who has mastered both his gifts – in this case science, through which he can serve the good of mankind, while also maintaining a personal life, a loving relationship with his wife Rosie (Donna Murphy). This leads Peter to the conclusion that it’s possible to have both.” Dr. Octavius, with the support of his wife, has been working diligently in his home laboratory, trying to perfect his groundbreaking fusion theory. But when a demonstration of his creation goes horribly wrong, Dr. Octavius undergoes a terrible transformation – evolving into the powerful, multi-tentacled Doc Ock.

In Spider-Man 2, the talented and versatile Molina brings this powerful adversary to terrifying life. “He is a formidable enemy for Spider-Man,” said Arad. “He can climb walls faster and better than Spider-Man. In fact, there’s nothing Spider-Man can do that Ock cannot counteract.”

Doc Ock, one of the most popular villains of the Spider-Man comic book series, first appeared in “The Amazing Spider-Man #3,” which was published in 1963. He immediately became one of Spider-Man’s most formidable foes. According to comic lore, each of Ock’s limbs can move at speeds of up to 90 feet per second and strike with the force of a jackhammer. The extremely powerful tentacles enable him to lift a vehicle off the ground, pulverize bricks, claw through concrete walls and hover above his victims by rising into the air.

The filmmakers were eager to attract Molina for the central role. “We needed someone who brought a palpable reality to the part, and who was also sincere, had a great sense of humor and personal warmth,” said Raimi. “Alfred is a brilliant actor, and what he’s brought so effectively to the character of Doc Ock is the sense of him as a misunderstood man who has turned into a beast.”

Molina confessed, “I’ve always been a Marvel Comic fan because their characters are so interesting. They have problems. They’re very realistic.” From him, the mechanics behind the role of Doc Ock was a true education. “It was mind-boggling, the breadth and the imagination that went into how each of my character’s actions – flying across the room, crashing through a plate glass window, smashing a taxicab – was to be executed. It’s a unique way of filming that’s not like anything most of us get to do really. It’s a very particular way of working, and absolutely fascinating.”

J.K. Simmons also returns in Spider-Man 2 as Peter’s gruff boss at the Daily Bugle, J Jonah Jameson. “I fire Peter several times in this movie. Every time I see him, I fire him,” laughed Simmons. “And then I re-hire him because there’s always some pressing need for his services.”

Principal photography on Spider-Man 2 began on April 12, 2003, in New York City, where the production spent approximately three weeks shooting at various locations in Manhattan, Queens and Brooklyn, as well as on a Yonkers stage. From ground-level street shots to rooftops high above the city, the filmmakers efficiently utilized the time they spent in New York, giving them the opportunity to expand on the city’s unique environment, which had lent such vibrancy to the first Spider-Man.

“In the first film we established New York as a character in the movie. With Spider-Man 2, we went even further,” said production designer Neil Spisak. “We used a lot more of the city, including [photographic] plates of real buildings and real streets. Improvements in technology over the past three years enabled [visual effects designer] John Dykstra and I to marry existing buildings to scenery buildings to CG buildings even better than the first time around. It’s a much more complete experience.”

“We got more of a feeling of New York in this movie,” added Ziskin. “The movie is being shot in widescreen, which is appropriate because this is a different story, so it required a different approach.”

Production began on the campus of Columbia University in uptown Manhattan, which served as the university Peter Parker attends while he struggles with the responsibilities of his academic workload and his superhero duties. The rooftop of the Hotel Intercontinental, across from the Waldorf Astoria, was the location where Spider-Man contemplates his next move, while downtown, in the Wall Street area, another rooftop served as the “launch-pad” for the Spydercam camera, as it dipped and swooped over several blocks to replicate one of Spider-Man’s high-stakes aerial journeys through the city.

“We executed one of the longest wire shots the Spydercam has ever done,” said executive producer Joseph M. Maracciolo. “The Wall Street shot was around 2,400 feet. I’m an ex New Yorker, so I didn’t find the location shoot particularly daunting. But there are always difficulties when you’re doing wire work in New York, including the placement of the cranes on the buildings, the movement of the cast, crew and equipment, and of course, the crowds.”

“It was a challenge for us to move our production to the tops of buildings, but we couldn’t have been happier, because rooftops are Spider-Man’s world and that is his view of the city as he swings through it,” noted co-producer Grant Curtis. “It was breathtaking to see the world from 70 stories up – a world unto itself. You can’t fully really appreciate the beautiful architecture of New York’s skyscrapers from ground level. We showed some of that in the first film, but we wanted to show more of Spider-Man’s vertiginous world, and I think we really captured that with this film.”

In Spider-Man 2, Doc Ock sweeps Aunt May off her feet – literally – and takes her up several stories of a tall building. Rosemary Harris performed her stunts in a variety of harnesses, but only after she had managed to talk the filmmakers into letting her give her stunt double a rest. “I was a bit miffed at first, because my wonderful stunt double was going to do a lot of these harness maneuvers,” recalled Harris. “So I asked Sam and Laura, ‘Why not let me have a go at it?’ At first they were reluctant. But I begged them to at least let me try and they finally relented.”

Returning to Los Angeles, Spider-Man 2 shot on several stages on the Sony Pictures Studios lot in Culver City. Stage 15 was home to the Daily Bugle offices, as well as Peter’s tiny apartment and Dr. Octavius’ elaborate home laboratory. On Stage 29, the Osborn mansion, where Harry Osborn now lives, was recreated. Stage 27 housed MJ’s apartment set, a giant spider web, the interior of the Planetarium, the massive clock tower set as well as various other set pieces. A series of elevated trains were built on Stage 14, where Spider-Man and Doc Ock match wits.

One of the most elaborate sets for Spider-Man 2 was the pier set, designed by Spisak and built over the course of 15 weeks on Soundstage 30. “In contrast to Dr. Octavius’ lab, which was part of his apartment – a streamlined, organized and clean space – the pier is a maniacal, decaying, decrepit space,” explained Spisak. “It follows his character development in terms of his becoming a wilder, more dangerous and more formidable adversary for Spider-Man.”

The set, approximately 60 feet wide by 120 feet long and 40 feet tall, was constructed over a water tank and enhanced by several different components, including CG/plate work and miniatures.

“Before we built the set, we created an exact ¾ scale model of it, about 7 feet long and 4 feet wide, from drawings and blueprints. The model was extremely useful to the carpenters, who could take measurements to help them construct the full-sized pier, as well as for the miniatures team, so they could ascertain the dimensions, textures and materials that were used,” explained art director Tom Wilkins. “We shot plates down in San Pedro, where we panned from a real pier to the water. In post-production a New York background was added. We also built a miniature pier – interiors and exteriors – to complete the composition on the East River.” The art department team designed a 136 foot by 40 foot-high vinyl backing to represent Ock’s view of Manhattan through a large window at the end of the pier set. Wave machines were rigged in the water to create movement under the pier.

The production then moved to the Universal backlot for two weeks of shooting. Several city streets were transformed into a variety of New York neighborhoods including the exterior of the Lyric Theatre where MJ performances in an off-Broadway production of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. Ari’s Village Deli and Bakery became the site of an extremely complex scene involving a quiet conversation between Peter and MJ, which is interrupted by Peter’s “spider sense” – and a car careening through the plate glass window, followed by the arrival of Doc Ock.

“It was a great luxury to be able to build that set from every aspect, so that we could do everything we needed for the scene,” said Spisak. “The walls were made of french plate so that when the car smashed through it, the buildings around it were protected. We were able to design what we thought it should look like visually, then as tricks, gags and stunts became clearer, we were able to add them to the set before it was completely finished.”

“The deli was a full, 360 degree set, with a kitchen, deli counters, pastries, ceiling fans and chandeliers,” added art director Steve Saklad, who worked closely with Spisak. “We dressed the exterior streets so that you could look out of the window and see the intersection of Lafayette Street and Astor Place. It required an enormous amount of signage, billboards, street dressing, trees and traffic lights.”

For Raimi,  “The diner was a complex technical scene, because it brought together so many different departments, each relying on the other to fulfil their function  and communicate with each other so that each individual shot would work. We utilized mechanical effects and the stunt department had to take an automobile, spin it and flip it through the deli window, with the prop department providing the breakaway items. What made it even more complex was that we had to fly Doc Ock in, using something we dubbed the “walk rig.”

The “walk rig” was created for Doc Ock, because the character not only moves himself, but his tentacles move him around as well. When he walks on the tentacles, they support his weight, so a device was constructed to harness him and move him through space as if the tentacles were supporting him. The visual effects department also created “virtual” tentacles where practical ones weren’t feasible.

When he was in full costume, Molina’s tentacles weighed between 75 to 100 pounds, depending upon the action required for the scene. Each of the tentacles was fully articulated. In their expanded, 13-foot length, each upper tentacle consisted of approximately 76 individual pieces Each vertabra was handmade, hand molded, sanded, individually hand painted, chromed, then painted again and assembled by hand. The entire collection of Doc Ock tentacles, bases, heads and wrists, if laid end to end, would be taller than a 20-story building.

Academy Award winning costume designer James Acheson welcomed the opportunity to further explore and improve upon the already classic Spider-Man costume for Spider-Man 2. “Creating the Spider-Man suit for the first film was a real challenge since we were designing for a kind of Cirque du Soleil acrobat, someone who had a unbelievable kinetic spiraling ability,” he said. “So the suit had to be extremely flexible. For the new installment we made several improvements, though you’d have to be a real enthusiast to spot them. The colors are slightly different, and we have made subtle changes in terms of the movement inside the costume’s hood. We also adjusted the eyepieces of Spider-Man’s mask as well as certain aspects of the spider design on the front and the back of the suit.”

For Spider-Man 2’s Doc Ock, Acheson and Raimi spent close to a year collaborating with Spisak and visual effects designer John Dykstra and working with Edge FX in what began as a series of “group think” sessions, according to Raimi. “I needed John Dykstra’s input, because it was John who was going to have to handle Doc Ock’s movements in CG, so he had to be involved in designing the character, along with Jim, who was going to determine the look of the character,” recalled Raimi. “Part of the look determined the movement, and what the arms look like began to govern how it functioned. Neil was involved because Ock had to be a part of Neil’s world in the film. A great interdependence developed among the department heads in order to achieve the complex nature and physicality of the character,”

“The challenge with Doc Ock is to visually create a believable world, focusing on a man with four tentacles growing out of his back,” said Spisak. “Now, that can be a tough swallow. So, in creating Ock and his world, we needed to design and play it so that everything was credible. Ove the course of several months, it became clear what was physically possible for Ock and what would have to be achieved via CG. We conceptualized the look and only then did we deal with the physical limitations, rather than letting them stop us at the beginning.”

Added Dykstra: “It was a huge challenge to make Doc Ock come to life. His tentacles had to meet several criteria. They had to be appropriate with regard to the world Neil had created for Spider-Man and Ock. The components of the costume – the texture and the weight – had to bed something an actor could actually wear. Since using the tentacles wasn’t always practical, we had to create ‘virtual’ versions with Edge FX. In the end, integrating the tentacles into the story was a marriage of all those components and the collaboration of everyone involved.”

Spisak and his team designed and dressed more than 100 sets and locations for Spider-Man 2. “There are probably 10 enormous sets, while some are simply street corners. We covered eleven blocks in downtown Los Angeles and used many rooftops, streets and buildings in New Yorj City,” noted Spisak. “This is certainly the biggest film I’ve ever done.”

Spisak worked with director of photography Bill Pope on the color palette for the sets, and they pored over research and location pictures to inspire them for the story’s lighting requirements. “In the first film, Peter Parker was younger, less aware and just beginning to discover his new powers. That was reflected in the overall look of the movie,” said Spisak. “With this film, he has been Spider-Man for a while, so his frustration over how to deal with his life versus his duty is more complex. That’s reflected in the color palette and the tone of this film – it’s a little more sophisticated, more complicated and deeper, in terms of color and look.”

Among the tools Dykstra and his team utilized to achieve the shots presenting Spider-Man’s point-of-view, while he is soaring over the city, was Earl Wiggins’ Spydercam. During the New York portion of the shoot, the specialized camera was launched using a remote-controlled computer suspended on a cable from a Wall Street-area rooftop more than 30 stories in the air, which recorded what DSpider-Man saw as he swung over the city. The camera traveled along a line suspended over four blocks, dipping down into the street and over the tops of several blocks of vehicles and background art that had been placed for the sequence.

“We were dropping the camera and moving it up and down over the course of the shot to follow Spider-Man’s trajectory as he swings through the arch, releasing a web, and shooting a new web as he swings into the traffic below,” explained Dykstra.

“One of the successes of the first film was the empathy the audience had for the main character. He was very sympathetic,” Dykstra said, “This movie explores the character in greater depth, and in terms of the visual effects, we’re hoping to give audiences an event more intimate sense of what it’s like to be Spider-Man. In the first film, we get to fly with him. The idea here is to make the flying sequences poetic enough and evocative enough that you will get an even stronger sense of what it’s like to fly like Spider-Man.”

That approach is reinforced by Raimi, said Ziskin, “One of the really striking aspects about Sam is that he is the audience for this film. He makes the movie for the audience, identifies with the characters and is always aware of the rhythms and how each sequence will play – both to him and the other members of the audience. That makes him the perfect director for this kind of material. Also, he’s at a point in his directing career where he’s at the top of his game. He is brilliant technically, but also works extraordinarily well with the actors. Ultimately, his personal connection to Peter Parker and the other main characters is a great gift to the audience.”

“These are tough, scary times and during such periods we look to heroic stories to give us hope,” noted Raimi. “Maybe that has something to do with why the audience was so taken with Spider-Man when he first appeared two years ago. With Spider-Man 2, I truly hope that audiences will feel that they’re seeing a love story, that they’re participating in another episode of Peter Parker’s life and are seeing the challenges and conflicts he faces and how he overcomes them. I hope it will leave them feeling uplifted and exhilarated.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

What is a happy ending?

So someone (looks sternly at @rondoel) thought giving me insight in a certain OC of theirs and making me feel things is an okay thing to do. That I won't proceed to write a heartbreaking epilogue to my two part Virgil king story. This one not as long. But still. Enjoy:

What is a happy ending?

"Why happily ever after?" King wondered aloud as He studied their latest piece of art.

No one had ever answered that question for Him. Not in a meaningful way at least. And it never truly stopped bothering Him.

"Your majesty?" Anxiety asked carefully. Probably not sure if he had been meant to hear. King wasn't so sure Himself.

Oh well. He might as well finish the thought. Something interesting might come from it.

"Happily ever after. It's so... boring. Why does everyone like it so much?" He had wondered so often...

Anxiety shrugged. "Princey loved that crap. He hated it when I called out the flaws, though he could be just as bad with plot holes.

It's not realistic at all and... well boring is one word for it." His tone and face could almost be mistaken for dismissive, but King could swear He spotted fondness in the upturn of Anxiety's mouth and a slight wistfulness in the shine of his eyes.

King however was more interested in this more nuanced perspective on the story trope. Answers at last?

Anxiety noticed his king desired for him to elaborate and immediately started fidgeting as he tried to find the words to express his thoughts sufficiently.

"I suppose... everyone thinks that's what they want?" His nerves turn the sentence into a question. "When they are little it's an easy goal. You find the one who'll make you whole, or defeat the villain, or both. And then nothing ever bothers you again.

It's not how life works though... and growing up... I think everyone still has a part of them that wants to hold on to things being that... simple..." Anxiety trailed off and looked up at king curiously. His face strangely focused as if he was looking for an answer himself.

"Simple?" King urged wanting to hear more. Anxiety was so close to making sense. So close to bringing about that wonderful feeling when curiosity was sated. A story complete at last.

"Um... yeah... I mean even I feel a little... I don’t know... it feels right?

When you do the right thing, even when it's hard and you get the stuff you want anyway. And when people who hurt you don’t win. You want the world to work like that. If not for you then at least for the servant girl, who just wanted a night off, or the waitress who just wanted to buy her father's dream restaurant. Hard work, kindness, patience... they should be rewarded right?" Anxiety explained. Sounding frustrated. "And..." he let out a resigned sigh before straightening up and continued more decidedly. "Since the world doesn't work that way... why not escape somewhere where it does?" It was passionate. Perhaps in defense of Roman's favorite thing in the world. Then that fight and righteous defiance fell away in favor of a nostalgic fondness. "Thomas did it all the time growing up," Anxiety sighed before returning his attention to the painting that had prompted the question. A Father's Day movie night.

Hugs and snacks and movies with happily ever afters galore. All of Morality's favorite things.

King had to admit it had... stung to discover that Morality had taken up the role He'd given him even after he betrayed everything that title stood for.

Had he ever felt even the slightest bit conflicted when hearing Roman calling him 'Padre'?

Or was it supposed to be fine, since he thought Roman was the only half of Him who felt attached to him that way?

Had it truly never occurred to him that while he took in the confused Roman, he left behind a disoriented and heartbroken Remus who didn't understand why daddy was ignoring him.

What had he done wrong?

Why did he never get bedtime stories or hugs from dad? Why was he shoved away, scolded, ignored?

Why was he not allowed to play in the imagination with his brother?

The last thought had plagued both halves for years.

Even Roman who had stopped admitting to it to please Morality felt conflicted during story times and hugs to this day.

Telling Thomas that he didn't want anything to do with his brother had hurt more than the bump on his head...

But all of that was in the past. They were gone and their unresolved issues were a waste of His time. He had berated, tormented, Anxiety over this. He would not fall victim to such sentimentalities Himself.

"I see... escapism then?" He muttered, trying to get back on topic and not to show the... somewhat emotional turn His thoughts had taken.

Like His halves, His 'Padre' was gone. He probably never existed in the first place.

And Morality would pay for that betrayal and the way he abandoned Remus and how he made Roman fight to earn his love, only to abandon him as well. His suffering had only just begun.

Not because it still mattered. But... any excuse to justify and fuel His wrath even a little bit more was good enough for Him.

He'd probably avenge slights against his minister simply to feign kinship and watch the traitors squirm under his rule just a bit more. Not that he needed a reason to do anything. But justified rage was so much more satisfying to set loose. Because the targets would feel, deep down, they brought this upon themselves.

"Yeah... there's enough crappy stuff going on in the world right? Thomas... wants to use his talents to make people smile. And while that's cheesy, it's also... well it's him," Anxiety shrugged. King hummed in agreement as He framed the picture and put it away. He'd barely paid attention honestly. The answer was satisfactory. But there was a new question on His mind. As He mused over His minister's attachments to His enemies and how to sever them He recalled something intriguing about his recent behavior.

Anxiety had been pulling away from Morality. Why? What had caused a crack in 'the bestest most dynamicest duoest duo'?

And was this something he could use to forge an allegiance. Or to hurt Morality as deeply as He'd been hurt. Or, ideally, both?

King smirked to Himself as He laid a gentle hand on Anxiety's shoulder. He asked about a drawing of the young side and Thomas. He was pleased to note that His minister no longer shrank away every time He moved in his general direction. He might not be comfortable with His touch yet, but he was getting used to it. Something that would surely get to the others who still tiptoed around Anxiety's boundaries.

Maybe, at some point, he could be made to truly see things His way. To see the traitors for the villains they were. Just the thought of the chaos that this realization would unleash... It would be magnificent.

Morality had forgotten something important about 'happily ever after's.

Bad guys don’t get them. And the victor is always the hero.

It was only right that King reminded him of the shadow side of his favourite ending.

By making him live it.

Virgil knew that it was a bad thing that he found himself enjoying talking about his memories to the king and watching them turn into pretty cool paintings.

He was Anxiety, this was definitely a crisis. He can't relax now, not around the reason of said crisis... but if he doesn't relax a little his thoughts might do something really bad. And if he doesn't do whatever the king wants, then the king might do something bad.

So he had to balance on this weird edge of anxious, but cool with it.

The others were counting on him. To stay safe, to keep it together, to keep King distracted, to find a way to get him to lay off a little...

"Worthless." And... the thing is back.

"Dude, seriously, not now!" He snapped at his... shadow.

King just looked on intrigued. Great. Now the shadow had King's attention.

"Failure," it hissed. Right... King is not his biggest problem right now.

So far the shadow had only been mildly annoying even quiet for the most part. But clearly anxious thoughts made it remember it could be a pain in the behind. And worst thing is it got to Virgil even more because it laid out his true fears for King to see and use against him.

"You... you are just... you're just a thought. You can't hurt me." Virgil insisted.

Thomas could deal with his irrational fits. Surely he could manage this thing, right?

"Monsssster," the shadow hissed. No he didn't think that anymore!

"Guardian!" Virgil bit back. Patton said so, Logan said so, Roman said so, Thomas said so... why cant he just believe them?

He found himself struggling to breath again. The thoughts... they were real now... what if they could hurt him...? Can he die? What would happen to Thomas?

"Begone!" Virgil snapped out of his near attack at the sudden outburst from King.

What...?

He looked up just in time to see a flash of metal and shadow's dissolving figure.

"It'll reform later," King muttered as he sheeted his sword.

"It became too bothersome. You should not let your creations have power over you young one. You are their master, don't forget that," he instructed calmly, not looking at him.

Did he just...?

"Return to your business now, I find that I am in need of a break," he then declared as he walked away, still not looking back.

"But..." he came to a halt. "Should you wish to finish our gallery... I might be willing to indulge your presence later."

Virgil didn't quiet know what to do, so he bowed, just in case the king could see it somehow. "Y-yes my king. Thank you," he stammered hurriedly.

When he looked up, the king was gone.

And Virgil ran. He needed to find Lo and Pat before the shadows returned.

His thoughts were a confused mess... he hadn't imagined that right?

King had really stepped in to save him instead of letting Virgil's punishment, gift, curse, whatever run its course...

And then he left it up to Virgil to decide if and when they'd finish up.

There was probably some messed up reason behind it... but still.

Virgil wasn't stupid though. Even if saving him had been a purely noble impulse, King hadn't undone his 'gift' to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Telling him to put his foot down with 'his own creations' didn't really count.

King still messed up real bad and would have to do something pretty impressive to make up for all of that.

And Virgil was pretty sure that it wasn't just his pessimism talking when he thought that the king was no where close to wanting to make nice with any of them.

Or not for the right reasons anyway.

He shook his head. He can worry about all that later. Right now he has to find the others. Before King runs into one of them.

Virgil's trip down memory lane might've been deemed 'entertaining' or whatever, but he hadn't be around for whatever had happened to make the king be out for blood in the first place.

He didn't want to find out what King's idea of 'having fun' was when it came to Pat, Lo or even Janus. Whatever they did, it was still his duty to protect Thomas. Physically, socially, mentally and emotionally. Whether he wanted him to or not.

And not even King was going to stop him from fulfilling his purpose.

@antiredhuman you wanted to be tagged if I wrote more for this au so here you go! Hope you like it!

[krreader]

BTS scenario → you as TXT’s older sister.

pairing: bts x reader ; txt x sister!reader fandom: bts ; txt warnings: language  genre: fluff ; crack word count: 1.7k+

a/n: suuuuch a guilty pleasure of mine to write stuff like that so thank you for requesting it bb! I hope you like it ♥

kim seokjin

Jin didn't have a lot of time for going out with friends anymore, unfortunately.

Even dinner was nowadays a luxury he could rarely afford, that's how little time he had on his hands.

But with TXT having debuted, Jin found himself more often than not spending a few hours with them at dinner, even if it was just a snack bar close by. What mattered the most was that he didn’t have to eat alone.

Soobin and him had formed quite a friendship over the last weeks. And tonight, the topic of siblings finally came up.

“My oldest sister is really talented. She's such a good dancer, you know? I used to train with her a lot before I auditioned.”

“Ah, really? You should introduce her to me, I could learn a few things from her,” Jin had chuckled.

The conversation had gone into such depths that Soobin actually really ended up giving Jin your number and Jin, after having had a few drinks too many, ended up texting you.

And the look on his face when he walked into the dance practice room three days later and found you standing there with a big smile on your face, because he had completely forgotten that he had invited you over to help him with his dancing.

“So.. are you ready, Kim Seokjin?”

He gulped down hard. 

That should be answer enough.

min yoongi

Yoongi was on his way up to the boss, currently scrolling through some app on his phone when you entered the elevator.

He immediately stood up straighter, something about you intimidated him greatly. And that wasn’t something that he could admit often.

Maybe it was your angry look or the fact that you looked hot as fuck, but whatever it was, he wasn't so cool anymore.

“You look angry,” he remarked.

“I am angry,” you replied, not pressing any other floor. Oh boy, Bang PD had a big storm coming, “People in this industry think they can use young artists for their own benefit. It's disgusting.”

“It's the idol industry, love.”

But calling you ‘love’ wasn't a good move. Not when you were already on the edge of smacking someone. 

You turned around and killed him with one look only, Yoongi quickly bowing a little as an apology.

“My brother worked so hard for this,” you said once you had turned around again, your voice now a little less audible, “He shouldn't be treated like this.”

Right! Yoongi thought he had seen you somewhere before, you were the sister of one of the TXT members! He didn't remember whose sister, but he knew you were a family member!

“Are you.. a lawyer then?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a card or something? You seem like you know what you're doing and I could use a lawyer like you.”

Smooth, Min Yoongi. Fucking smooth. Because you gave him that card, thinking he was only interested in your abilities, when the reality was that he was interested in much more than that.

jung hoseok

Hoseok had only recently started following TXT's private Instagram accounts.

Now, as he was on set and waiting for his make-up and hair to be done, he decided to look through who they were following, just out of curiosity.

And that's when he stumbled across your account.

The childhood pictures made him assume that you were the sister.. the older sister. The sister that grew up to be very very pretty and, from the looks of it, quite successful on her own.

“Do you think I'm too old to just randomly message a girl on Instagram?” Hoseok asked Jimin, who just snorted.

“Hyung.. you're Jung Hoseok. It doesn't matter what age you are, whoever it is that you're messaging will be over the moon.”

Maybe Jimin had over exaggerated a little, because you didn't respond to his message for an entire week.

Hoseok completely forgot that he even messaged you in the first place when you finally replied: “Hey, sorry. I wasn't sure if you were a fake account, so I had to ask my brother first. But how are you?”

Ah.. so that's why the TXT members weren't looking so fondly at him anymore. He wasn't sure if he'd be too happy if one of them messaged his older sister either.

kim namjoon

Namjoon would never purposefully listen in on a private conversation, but even though Kai was trying his hardest to talk quietly, Namjoon could still hear every word.

“I don't care, (Y/N), I don't care that you're my older sister, there is no way I'm going to walk up to my senior and ask him for his number just so I can give it to you! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!”

That made Namjoon chuckle and press himself closer against the wall. Now he wanted to know who you two were talking about.

“No, no, no! Don't tell mom, I'm..- ugh, you're so mean, this is exactly why Lea is my favorite sister and not you.”

Namjoon thought this was a funny and normal conversation that siblings had with each other, he didn't think anything more of it.

But oh boy, his face when Kai walked up to him that same day and told him about you and showed him pictures of you, Namjoon slowly started to realize that this conversation from before had actually been about him.

And he was flattered.

“Sure. Give it to her. I'd love to get to know her.”

From what he heard from before, you sure as hell were an interesting persona and he was so down for anyone that didn't fake their personality because they were famous.

park jimin

Jimin and you had been friends ever since Beomgyu had gotten accepted into BigHit and he had run into you at an office party a few years back.

But that was initially all it was.

Friendship.

It was only recently that things started to get a little out of hand.

One drink was all it took for you two to play truth or dare and well, the next thing you knew was that you woke up in his bed the next morning.

And instead of keeping it a secret, Jimin had decided to come clean to Beomgyu, who, of course, wasn't angry at his senior, but at you.

“Do you know what this looks like? You sleeping with him? It's as if you're doing this for my sake!”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, little brother, but not everything is about you. I like Jimin. It's as simple as that,” you shrugged.

And it's not like he could do anything to change that.

You were your own person and so was Jimin.

All he could do was stand there and watch as you two grew closer and closer.

And he didn't like it one bit.

kim taehyung

You usually stayed as far away from the industry as you possibly could.

Just because Yeonjun was now an idol, didn't mean you had to be in the spotlight too. He didn't even want you to be, he wanted to protect you from that, despite you being the older one.

Nevertheless, this was an important award show for him and while it was usually your parents being there to support him, they couldn't make it today. The thought alone that all of your brother's members would be cheered on by family except for Yeonjun was ultimately the reason that you decided to take the plunge and join him.

They were currently getting ready and you had come late, so you had missed the rest of the family members.

Not knowing where to go, you just decided to hang out in front of their green room and wait for your brother, especially because you still had to wish him good luck for his upcoming performance.

You were so focused on your phone that you didn't notice someone suddenly leaning against the wall next to you.

“Bang PD didn't say anything about a new intern.”

“That's because I'm not a new intern,” you said, still not looking up from your phone, “I'm also not a crazy fan, in case you were afraid of that. I'm Yeonjun's sister.”

“Ah.. I get why he's so secretive about you.”

When you looked up, you didn't flinch because of who it was. You just smiled a little as you noticed him biting down on his lip, his eyes traveling down to your own lips, “Are you flirting with me?”

“I'm trying, but it's not working, I think,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Ah, you're here!” Yeonjun said with a big smile, then bowed when he saw Taehyung, “Hyung?”

“Your 'hyung' is currently trying to ask me out,” you smirked.

“No, wait, I wasn't..-” but what was more offensive to Yeonjun? The fact that he was, or that he maybe wasn't, because why wouldn't he? You were pretty, intelligent and funny, “Okay, I was.”

“Uh.. well, I..-” your brother rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable about this situation, but you took pity on the poor guy and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Come on. Let's go to the stage together.”

Taehyung was a little disappointed then, but not for long. Because a day later, he got a message from Yeonjun with a phone number and: “I don't like this one bit, but she's my older sister so I have to do whatever she says. Please don't hurt her, hyung.”

Ah, so you were interested after all.

jeon jeongguk

It was so freaking early, nobody in their right state of mind should be up and working at this point.

But Jeongguk was walking, not quite awake yet, into the practice room and threw down his gym bag.

They had just started working on their newest choreography and he wanted to be one of the first to nail it.

He was just about to put on the song when someone walked in with two cups of coffee.

Someone he didn’t know.

“Here, drink this, it'll..- Oh!” your eyes widened, quickly bowing, “Sorry, wrong room.”

“Who are you?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes at you, “Staff usually isn't working this early.”

“I'm.. not staff. I'm Taehyun's sister. He's practicing and I'm worried about him, so I stopped by before I have to go to work.”

Jeongguk looked at you for a moment, then he let out a laugh, “Boy, he's lucky to have you as his sister. I don't have anyone bringing me drinks and snacks in the morning because they're worried about me.”

The conversation didn't last any longer than that, you quickly made your way into the next practice room you could find where your brother was already dancing.

Jeongguk continued on with his day like he usually did.

The next morning, however, he was surprised to find a smoothie and a sandwich in front of the mirror with a piece of paper saying: “Eat and drink this. You'll need strength :)”

And he could have sworn that he had fallen in love right there and then.

[alaffy]

The Gilded Age, Ep.4 – A Long Ladder (Spoilers)

So, a missing dog almost starts a pissing contest between the staff of two houses and then…nothing. Granted, it’s a storyline they come back to in a future episode; but when watching this episode it felt like the storyline was just completely abandoned.  I think it’s because, instead of having this run throughout the episode, it’s in the first half and then it’s not mentioned again.

So, Bertha finally has a foothold into society.  And it looks like George is onto Oscar’s intentions; best leave things alone Oscar. Speaking of which, someone lock Marian in her room until Tom goes away.  He’s not to be trusted, I think.  And Mrs. Chamberland’s secret is out.  It seems like she was the mistress, before she was the wife.  

I am glad that Gorge just shuts down Turner.  I hope this doesn’t change.  I think one of the strongest things going for this show is Gorge and Bertha.  They are two people who are in love; who have faith in each other; who are partners.  They both have their own goals, but we have seen her help him in his goals just as much as we’ve seen him help her.  They know how their goals compliment each other.  

My other favorite storyline has to be Peggy’s.  As I mentioned in my post in episode one, I didn’t want Peggy to be a character that they just brought out when they wanted to bring up issues of race.  But, so far, I think they’ve done a good job about balancing the life of this young woman and dealing with the social issues of the day.  Take this episode, for instance.

We start with Peggy and Marian gossiping about Tom’s proposal and the fact that Peggy might be published in the New York Globe.  But things change when Marian wants to go into a store.  Peggy immediately knows that she will not be welcomed, but Marian (who’s naiveite is getting beyond annoying) goes inside anyway. Marian doesn’t even notice when everyone is starting at Peggy.  Fortunately, Mrs. Chamberland does and she tries her best to help Peggy, but….

Later on, Peggy goes to the newspaper and finds out that her story will be published.  They’re also would be interested with her writing an article based on the reason why she refuses to back a political party as she can’t vote. Now, the show apparently the show is set in 1882.  By this time Congress had passed the 15th amendment, which was supposed to bar anyone denying a man his right to vote based on race (of course, we all know there were plenty of laws passed to get around this amendment).  Still, at the end of the day, it’s not Peggy’s race that’s preventing her from voting.  It’s her sex.  Doesn’t matter what laws are passed or not passed or overwritten, these laws never extended to women.  So, why should she care?

Also, do we see a hint of a future romance here?

And then, later, we see her go to her mother’s birthday lunch.  Which, of course, leads to another argument between Peggy and her father. On one hand, we do have confirmation that Peggy’s father was not born a free man and we can see why he has this concern about his daughter being treated like a servant.  On the other hand, we also have a story of a father and their offspring that we have seen played out through all types of families. One in which the parent has created a successful business (in this case Peggy’s father own a pharmacy) and wants the child to take over the business because they believe it will bring stability for that child; but the offspring has talents of their own and isn’t interested in the same kind of life as their parent.  And, of course, both of them feel like they are being rejected by the other. Then you add in the fact that the father isn’t listening to Peggy, or doesn’t seem to realize Peggy is very much aware of what the world is like.

But then you have…the moment.   And I will say there is not one person in the Scott family that I don’t agree with in this moment; which is a little odd as their reactions are not in agreement.  Marian, the little idiot that she is, decides she’s going to “help” Peggy and her family. So, she travels to Brooklyn, without notice, and comes to their very nice home.  And she sees it’s a very nice home and she’s confused by the nice home, but nothing in her tiny little brain tells her to just get back in the carriage. No, she goes inside the house and ends up presenting the Scott family, on the mother’s birthday, several pairs of used shoes.  

Now, I am absolutely on Arthur Scott’s side when he started asking Marian questions; because she should be embarrassed for that stupid stunt.  I also can understand why Peggy wanted to leave as she knew her father was also doing it to try to prove a point to Peggy; a point that Peggy already knew.  I also understand why Dorothy, who just wanted to celebrate her damn birthday with her family, was frustrated with her husband for taking it so far.  But what I am absolutely, 100% behind is Peggy talking Marion to task for this.  

 I mean, it says a lot about Marian when she just assumed that The Scott’s would need those shoes. Especially, after Peggy bought her ticket.  Also, let’s take a look at Peggy for a moment.  She is dressed just as fashionably as Marian and it’s very clear her clothes are not second hand.  There is nothing about Peggy that even indicates that her family has any financial trouble.  Also, Peggy has made it clear that she works because she wants to not because she has to.  Marian wants to change how things are in the world?  Marian needs to grow the hell up first and deal with her own prejudices.  

[bybdolan]

revealing my inner 80 year old too, i guess, bc this latest lorde proclamation is ... not it :/ i understand that not everyone feels the same way about recreational drug use as i do, but for me, it's triggering and upsetting to think about. i 100% agree drug use should not be stigmatized -- we need to have open & honest conversations about it and what drives people to it -- but we also shouldn't be normalizing recreation drug use / abuse? and i just feel so incredibly uncomfortable and so much dread thinking about how so many kids are going to hear this lorde news and think that taking drugs is some sort of creative stimulant and can elevate them to that level. and just. from a general perspective, i cannot believe lorde just based her entire brand on ... drugs?

Interesting points! And I agree for the most part – I think there can be a tendency to credit outside influences as the source of an artist's talent or creativity and while that is true to some extent, there is also A Person behind an artwork that already has rich inner workings that are simply enhanced by their experiences. This can get extremely grim when entering the "tortured artist" territory (a lot of people actually work better when they are well). And I 100% understand why drugs, which can "enrich" how we see the world in various ways, can play a part in a creative process, and so I also understand why an artist would want to bring it up when talking about said creative process. Drugs changed the Beatles' music in drastic ways, for example. But, again: Drug use a good artist do not make. And I understand your concern for young fans. I don't expect Lorde to think about that necessarily, because if a fan reads her comments and proceeds to engage in drug use then that's not her fault and there is a whole conversation to be had on how Bad it actually is and how to actually teach kids about drugs, but the base idea that somehow drugs are integral to making or consuming art seem a bit harmful to me. The intersection between music and drugs and the connected subculture is HUGE (see: The Grateful Dead) and I am not educated enough to judge by any means (not taking drugs is a personal choice I made based on my lack of self-control in a lot of aspects and I don't want to speak over people who have first hand experience – be it good or bad); I think what mainly bugs me about the recent surge in artists openly talking about the role drugs play in their creative process is the way they tend to come off as a bit "ouhh look at me I am a rebel/special/enlightened". And maybe that is subjective, but there IS a huge difference in how artists like Harry Styles or Lorde talk about drugs vs. artists like Miley Cyrus or Demi Lovato, who have struggled with addiction, and while I don't think either of them are wrong for talking about their experiences, it is something to maybe pay attention to. I think drugs in general should be removed from this weird place in society where they are treated like magic potions without any genuine background info on what they do, just the conflicting opinions "this is the greatest thing you can do" (or, in the case of alcohol, part of social life) and "this will ruin your life". Taking or not taking drugs is a personal decision that isn't strictly "good" or "bad", and they are not going to suddenly turn you into Leonardo DaVinci but they also aren't always going to immediately ruin your future. There is a lot that goes into it, and I think this is often forgotten about – in education as well as music journalism

EDIT: I feel like I have to add the disclaimer that me using drugs as an umbrella term is very non-specific, and weed and heroin for example obviously have a lot of differences, plus the question of "what makes a drug?" (Is coffee a drug? Are phones?) isn't answered here, but this is a more general post on the topic so I hope you are able to excuse my broadness. The disclaimers I added should probably be kept in mind.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Cristina Scabbia x Diablo: Inside metal and gaming’s most devilish crossover yet

Outstanding hack-and-slash remaster Diablo II: Resurrected isn’t just about polishing up the beloved original’s relentless fire and brimstone. In a striking collaboration with Lacuna Coil songstress Cristina Scabbia and bizarro YouTube star Mark The Hammer, it’s inspired the latest crossover between video games and heavy music, too…

When Cristina Scabbia first picked up the joypad, she had no idea she was steering herself onto a path that would still be throwing up juicy side-missions three decades down the line. A young teenager in northern Italy during the mid-’80s first generation video game boom, the future Lacuna Coil frontwoman didn’t have the spare cash for the cutting-edge equipment of the time, whose 128-colour palettes and blocky two-dimensional sprites felt utterly futuristic. When a local friend powered up David Crane’s 1982 masterpiece Pitfall! on their Atari 2600, however, it opened the doors to another world.

“I’ve been a gamer for quite a while,” her eyes light up at the memory. ​“I love video games. I love what you can learn from them. I love the stories they tell…”

Few games are as darkly compelling as Blizzard Entertainment’s legendary Diablo series. Bringing to life the dark fantasy realm of Sanctuary – a midpoint between the High Heavens and Burning Hells – its trio of classic titles chronicle the eternal conflict between mankind and the demonic legions led by Diablo, fearsome Destroyer Of Souls. When David Brevik’s original landed in 1996, it was a literal game-changer for the industry, raising the bar in terms of depth and detail, storytelling and character-building. 2000’s Diablo II raised it again, still revered by hardcore gamers as the greatest action-RPG of all, while 2012’s Diablo III brought the franchise into the modern era.

Fittingly, it’s against that shadowy backdrop that Cristina joins us today, to discuss Start Again, her musical collaboration with the minds behind thrilling 3D, HD remaster Diablo II: Resurrected.

Speaking from her high-backed gaming chair in front of an impressive PC set-up this morning, she looks ready for battle. A laid-back, dressed-down counterpart to her imposing onstage alter-ego, she is surrounded by stacks of proudly-displayed paraphernalia, from a plushie of Gremlins’ Gizmo and photos of her band, to figurines of her favourite virtual characters, spare controllers, and the ubiquitous energy drink refrigerator.

Anyone familiar with Cristina’s Twitch streams wondering if this might be a carefully-arranged studio space should think again. ​“It’s actually part of my living room,” she laughs. ​“There’s this big table that was supposed to be for dinners with friends, but as we would go out to eat instead, I decided to use it for something that I like, and filled it with computers, monitors and consoles.

“It’s where I play. It’s where I stream from. It’s the safe space.”

Diablo’s heroes work best when joining forces, and 30 minutes further north, in the town of Saronno, we meet Marco Arata – AKA YouTube sensation Mark The Hammer – Cristina’s collaborator on Start Again, and a playful like mind. ​“I was three years old when I first played on a Game Boy,” he smiles into the light of a bank of monitors, ​“and I never stopped.”

For readers not in the know, Mark is the uber-talented multi-instrumentalist who’s gained a reputation for uploading incisive, tongue-in-cheek videos to YouTube like Irritating Guitar Lessons and How To Create A Black Metal Song… Without Any Talent. Learning piano aged eight, he quickly graduated to electric guitar, bass and drums. He’s since been picked up as the live guitarist/keyboardist for Italian pop-hip-hop icon J‑Ax. The main Mark The Hammer YouTube channel has more than half a million subscribers, while its English-language alternative boasts close to 100,000.

Both accomplished, analytical, artistic minds, it feels key to Start Again’s success that the duo see gaming as a chance to switch off – less interested in graphics and game engines than narrative drive and world-building.

“Whenever you listen to a song as a musician, you have your brain working, thinking about what exactly is going on,” explains Mark. ​“I’m a big fan of acting and drama, too, and the same thing applies when you watch a movie. But when you pick up that game pad, you’re able to relax and [switch that part of your brain off]. It’s the only thing in my life that I can really say is completely relaxing.”

“I know that some people prefer creating groups or being part of a competition,” agrees Cristina, noting that Diablo, in particular, fits her play style ​“but I’m more of a selfish, solitary player. I don’t want to feel that competition while I play. I want to be able to relax and do things at my own pace, to have my own rhythm. I don’t necessarily think of games as an escape. For me, it’s a different world that I want to be part of, [parallel to] the real world. It’s not that I want to [run away and] live in the video game world. But when I’m playing, I want to stay there, I want to focus on what’s happening – I want to absorb all the vibes. It’s not just something that you’re watching: you’re part of it. You can choose your character. You can increase your power. You can pick your path and select your sides.

“There are things about this world that non-gamers could never really understand…”

Like all the best quests, it began with a message from out of the blue. Mark recalls the sense of absurdity, watching an email drop into his inbox that he couldn’t quite believe was real. “I remember opening the message and seeing that it was an opportunity to write [a song inspired by Diablo II] for the release of Diablo II: Resurrected. Oh, yeah, and you’ll have Cristina Scabbia from Lacuna Coil doing vocals. I was just like ‘What?!’”

Having dropped video game soundtrack cover albums Hammer Games Vols 1 and 0 in 2015 and 2016 respectively, Mark had pedigree in the field, but he struggled to comprehend the opportunity for such a high-profile collaboration.

“This is the game that I bought as a 14-year-old when it first came out back in the year 2000,” he fishes out his original CD-ROM jewel case for an unsubtle flex, ​“and you’re asking me to write an official song to go with it? That in itself is mind-blowing. But to be able to do that with the greatest singer in Italian metal?! I thought it was some sort of strange spam at first. When I realised that it wasn’t, it became amazing on so many levels.”

Not a huge fan of YouTube (nor, presumably, of the hack-and-slash sub-genre), Cristina’s manager didn’t quite know what to make of the invitation. Fortunately, having followed one of Lacuna Coil’s old guitarists through a laptop screen and into Sanctuary all those years ago, and already a fan of Mark’s videos, she didn’t take much convincing.

“I was just like, ​‘Mark The Hammer? I follow him!’” she grins. ​“Then, when they told me the project was to write a song for Diablo II: Resurrected, I immediately said yes. If you look back at interviews that I did years ago, whenever they asked me what dream I had or what is missing from my body of work, I’ve always said that I’d like to write something for a video game. When this came along, it was like, ​‘Hello…’”

Cristina admits that she struggled with writer’s block over lockdown. Having watched her native Italy become one of the first countries crippled by the spread of COVID-19, she was unwilling to create music with the power to transport her back to those most troubled of times. Compared to the glacial pace of the music industry over the last 18 months, however, dropping in at crunch time in a massive game’s release schedule came as an invigorating change of pace. The first message exchanged between Cristina and Mark was on August 23, with the song due online to coincide with Diablo II: Resurrected’s launch exactly a month later.

“When you have a deadline, it can either throw you down or really speed everything up and add an excitement,” Cristina muses. ​“For us, it was definitely the latter. We were perhaps a little bit tense about not knowing each other. Any time you’re working with someone new, you ask yourself these questions: ​‘Is he going to be nice? Is he going to be an asshole? Is he going to have the same ideas that I have? The same creativity? The same speed?’

“As soon as we started to text, though, I realised that Mark was really relaxed, really funny. He’s like me. We would send and receive messages in the middle of the night, and get immediate replies. It was like we’d opened the floodgates on an ocean of ideas.”

A high level of fandom was pivotal. Diablo’s angels and monsters – Greater and Lesser Evils – seem like characters lifted from metal album covers to begin with, and the chaotic action that spills from the streets of Tristram and the slopes of Mount Arreat that go down into the depths of Hell could hardly be better suited to metalheads who’re never happier than when throwing down in the pit. Cristina and Mark’s preferred player classes – Sorceress and Barbarian, respectively – even mirror their onstage personas. To simply phone in the sort of crowd-pleasing banger either of these musicians could write in their sleep would be to do the project a deep disservice.

Cristina reckons that if Diablo were a band, it would be either Judas Priest – all OTT outfits, pointy edges and demonic imagery – or Rammstein, spewing sheer pyrotechnic bombast. Mark contends that the larger-than-life, battle-obsessed aesthetic of Iron Maiden might be a better match, pointing out that many of the most monstrous iterations of Ed The Head wouldn’t look out of place in its deepest dungeons. We’d argue that the ominous, folky atmospherics of peak Opeth even more closely evoke the playing experience, echoing Matt Uleman’s iconic original score.

In the same way that Diablo II: Resurrected marks an upgrade for players in 2021 while maintaining the original’s dark heart – dynamic lighting, three-dimensional rendering and high-definition presentation bringing the action sharply up to date – this song needed to pay respect while still packing enough heft to make an impact on metal fans in 2021.

“Diablo is such an iconic game,” nods Mark. ​“I knew the original score. I knew the original atmosphere. I knew where it had to go, more or less. But it was a challenge to make something new while paying respect to the original. There were parts where I wasn’t sure where I was going, but as soon as Cristina got really into the project and added her vocals, it felt like everything [clicked].”

“Mark’s involvement was crucial,” Cristina presses. ​“Looking at that original soundtrack, I was thinking, ​‘This is such a classic – it’s so iconic – but it’s not singable.’ It felt like putting a voice over the top would ruin it. But as soon as I heard the music that Mark had written, it changed everything. He made it singable. He created so many different parts, that offered so many different scenes, so many different moods. There are atmospheric parts, but there are also heavier parts. It’s like a journey, from beginning to end…”

Part sweeping re-score, part fan’s perspective love letter, part limb-swinging metal banger, the finished track feels like a striking bridge between worlds. Is the aim for fans who’ve yet to discover the pleasures of metal or gaming to be able to walk across it?

“The worlds of metal and gaming have always been strongly connected,” reckons Cristina, highlighting the fact that they’re both tightly-knit outsider communities fascinated by the dark and fantastical, which can appear intimidating to outsiders looking in. Although she and Mark will happily welcome new fans, the main priority was to write a great song, hopefully tightening the bond between communities that already exists. ​“It’s a lifestyle,” she gestures. ​“If you see a metalhead, there’s a strong chance you’ll be able to talk about games – or vice-versa.”

Indeed, the lines have increasingly blurred over the last couple of decades. Countless rockers found their way into the world via the legendary Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtracks. The Guitar Hero franchise brought songs as unusual DragonForce​’s Through The Fire And The Flames, Lamb Of God​’s Laid To Rest and Slayer​’s Raining Blood – not to forget Lacuna Coil’s Closer – into the non-metalhead sphere. Celebrities as high profile as Tenacious D​’s Jack Black have spearheaded their own digital-metal crossovers, while Avenged Sevenfold​’s M. Shadows cropped up as a playable character in Call Of Duty: Black Ops 4. Gamers have even increasingly taken to wearing branded T‑shirts a la those of their favourite bands, enabling them to recognise each other on the street.

On the other side of the coin, bleeding-edge artists like The Armed, Refused and Run The Jewels have recently been inspired to write specifically for games. Svalbard​’s Serena Cherry just started a one-woman black metal side-project called Noctule, dedicated to her favourite epic RPG. Hell, Cristina even tells us that pounding compositions by djent-influenced video game soundtrack maestro Mick Gordon are amongst the most listened on her personal playlist.

It’s down to a change in perspective, Cristina reckons, where intelligent eye for detail is now considered every bit as cool as a debauched hell-raiser attitude. Games’ intricate storytelling and epic design are recognised as on par with the finest parts of cinema, and e‑sports competitions regularly boast larger prize pots than those of their athletic counterparts.

“I was always part of the nerd world,” she says, with more than a hint of vindication. ​“A few years ago, it felt like it was almost something to be ashamed of to admit that you’re a nerd, as if you had this weird, ridiculous aura. But now, everybody – all these people who were never interested – seem to want to be involved in this world. I [sometimes think], ​‘Nah, you need to prove you’re really into it…’”

She’s not kidding. As if that massive cache of gaming equipment – from the original PlayStation to countless Game Boys and computer components – wasn’t proof enough, Cristina has even appeared as playable character The Shadow Sorceress in Iron Maiden’s ever-evolving Legacy Of The Beast mobile game. ​“It was such an honour, such a pleasure to create my own character and give all the directions for the outfit, which was basically the outfit I was wearing on the last Lacuna Coil tour before lockdown,” she grins.

Going even geekier, Lacuna Coil also just launched their own Horns Up tabletop card game, where players must fight their way to the front of the stage. ​“It’s something we’re all really interested in, but particularly our bassist Maki [Coti Zelati],” Cristina continues. ​“Every card is related to metal clichés. We even gave our fans the opportunity to see themselves on one of the cards…”

Although Lacuna Coil maintained their high-drama presence with September 2020’s Black Anima: Live From The Apocalypse stream and June 2021’s live album of the same name, Cristina was keen to use the time off to introduce fans to her character away from the band, emboldened to set up her own channel on Twitch.

“I just wanted to learn new things which could enrich my baggage of knowledge,” she enthuses. ​“I’m already singing, already writing, but I don’t want to fixate on those. Life is made up of so many different things that can enrich my music and my creativity. I was already a Twitch user, watching other people play games, but I didn’t know what my purpose was. I almost felt scared at first. I am a singer. I am somehow an entertainer. I like to talk, which is clear. But it’s different when you’re talking to a lot of people for a couple of hours – or more!

“Eventually, I decided to keep it as informal as I could so that people could see how Cristina is at home. Cristina isn’t just the singer of Lacuna Coil: I have a house, I have a life, I have passions, I have my own personality. I just wanted people to discover that. Luckily they also like this quirky side of me, which feels like the opposite that dark goth lady that so many people know. As much as I didn’t have purpose in the beginning, there’s now such a strong community every time I go online – such a clean place to exchange good vibes!”

Even the persistent undertones of sexism and misogyny that have plagued gaming, she pushes, are a speed bump to be put in the rearview, comparable to what she experienced when first making her name in heavy music.

“In metal, I encountered the same problem,” she explains, bluntly. “[Women becoming a major presence in the community] was something new, and when something is new, people have suspicions and doubts. They don’t know how to deal with it. But there are a lot of female gamers now, and a lot of females in metal. It’s been normalised, which it should be, because games and metal are for everyone.”

As the world comes back up to speed, hectic schedules mean that attention is turning away from screens, and back towards studio and stage. Mark is churning out more and more top-class YouTube content. Cristina has a packed diary, with a tribute concert for late collaborator Franco Battiato at the spectacular Arena di Verona this week, and another secretive collaboration in the works, not to mention writing for Lacuna Coil’s 10th LP, which has just begun – her creative fires reignited by bringing Start Again to life.

Having dipped toes in the video game world, though, they’re both keen to return.

“I really hope we do,” Cristina says. ​“As a fan of video games, it’s such a great chance to bring together these different passions in your life. There are so many different things I’d like to do, and places I’d like to explore in this world, but time is limited!”

“I loved the challenge here, and the process of collaboration,” nods Mark. ​“If we could work together again when it comes time to make Diablo IV, that would be amazing. I’d love the opportunity to have my own playable character in an Iron Maiden video game, too, but I’m not sure that’s achievable!”

“I thought the same thing,” grins Cristina, ever adventurous, as we wave farewell. ​“Never say never!”

Diablo II: Resurrected is out now on Nintendo Switch, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox X/S and PC.

[brywrites]

Flight Risk VIII

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part V: In which a profiler and the stars have something in common, and a pilot has a decision to make.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous |  Next )

---

All Saturday, Reid struggles to focus. It is the fault of one particular pilot, who has suddenly taken up much of the space in his mind. He loses his place in his books. He forgets about the leftovers he’s put in the microwave so long they get cold. He doesn’t realize he has neglected to put sugar in his coffee until he brings it to his lips and tastes the bitterness. And how can he think straight when he keeps replaying memories of the night before? When he asked to talk, Y/N didn’t even hesitate. She listened to him. She comforted him. She even shared part of her own heart with him. With her, he forgot about the case and the fight with JJ and all of his doubts. With Y/N he could just be himself.

And he hasn’t stopped thinking of the couch in her apartment. Where he shifted his fingers ever so slightly to touch hers. Touch isn’t easy for him, but it is a commonly accepted manner of expressing comfort or gratitude. He felt both of those things with her. And he had wanted her to feel them too. So he let his hand rest on hers. It took him by surprise when she rested her head on his shoulder, but he was even more surprised to discover he very much liked the sensation. So he put his head on her own and everything in the world was quiet and perfect and right.

Some time later, as Audrey Hepburn was singing “La Vie en Rose” for Humphrey Bogart on the television in front of them, he realized she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. With one hand he had grabbed for the remote, trying to remain still, in order to turn the volume down, so as not to wake her. Amelia, Y/N’s golden tabby cat had walked into the room at stared at him with big green eyes, as if quietly judging him. What are you going to do? she seemed to ask him.

And what was he going to do? Reid hadn’t been sure, not until Y/N shifted. In her sleep, she wrapped an arm around his waist. His heart thudded in his ears. Y/N had buried her face into his sweater and smiled. Smiled. As if simply being close to him made her happy. And oh what it did to his heart to think of that.

Reid had realized her found her attractive in a uniform, but looking at her now, she was utterly adorable. Her breath soft, her heart so fast and fluttering. Like a bird. There was still time now. He could nudge her gently and wake her up. He could leave the apartment. Leave her. End the moment before it could begin. There were things he was not allowed to feel. Things he was not allowed to do. But in spite of himself, he put his arm around her and lay his head back on hers. Falling into place. Like a puzzle, the pieces fitting just right. It felt so right to be by her side. And so he let himself fall asleep, too.

It is the memory of drifting into dreams with the feeling of her body against his own that continues to follow him long after they have parted ways. The smell of her shampoo. The soft smile on her face. He doesn’t want to ever forget it.

The days that follow are both slow and busy. They’re swamped with paperwork and consults, but there aren’t any cases out of state. Which means that he doesn’t see Y/N for two weeks, having no reason to be on a plane and no time to meet her outside of work. They text when they can, but it’s not the same. He replays that night. The starlight reflecting in her eyes in the car as she drove. The soft noise of the television. Audrey Hepburn singing that song again, slowly. Humphrey Bogart staring at her, saying, “Suppose I asked you to – well I suppose I’m just talking nonsense.” And he supposes that it will have to be enough, this memory.  

When they finally meet again, it’s in the Quantico hangar, preparing for a case in Minnesota. She’s re-reading Peter Pan and it pulls at some spot in his heart to remember the day he first met her.

“Well hello, stranger,” she teases.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he says, sitting down next to her on the bench. “But it’s good to see you again. I missed you.” What an understatement that is.

“I missed you, too.” She puts a bookmark in the book and sets it aside. “Not to worry though, I stayed busy. Yeeqin and I had our friends over, I got through two new books, and I even found my way to one of the famed BAU Girls’ Nights.”

“Oh did you now?” he asks. He’s not sure if famous is the right word – infamous, perhaps. Girls’ Nights are known for raucous laughter, magnificent hangovers, and all the secrets he doesn’t want to know. “How was that?”

“It was actually really fun,” she laughs. “I definitely was not prepared for the amount of alcohol that would be consumed. But Garcia and Kate and JJ are so much fun, and they were so welcoming! There were some fascinating facts exchanged, but I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Even with me?” he asks. And it’s true, most of the time he doesn’t want to know what happens. But that Y/N was there. And he can’t help but wonder if she heard anything about him. If she said anything about him.

“Oh, especially with you,” she says. She looks up at him with a sly smile on her face. “You make it too easy to spill my soul to you. Besides, I’m sure you could profile most of my secrets anyways.”

Reid knows the feeling. He’d tell her anything at all if she asked him. If he thought it would make her stay a little while longer talking with him or make her laugh or earn him a smile that dances across her beautiful lips. The lips he reminds himself he isn’t supposed to be staring at right now. He just can’t help it. Pretty girls have always had a knack for making a flustered mess of him, but she has a special talent for devastating him. Y/N is more than just a pretty face – she makes him feel lighter, unburdened by all the knowledge that he finally seems to find a use for when she asks him questions or wants new book recommendations. She reassures him. She trusts him. Bit by bit he’s come to know her mind and her heart and the places she calls home. And he can’t help but want to make himself at home in the warm feeling that washes over him each time she says his name or glances his way.

“What if I tell you one first?” he asks.

“Perhaps a deal could be arranged. It depends on the secret.”

A thousand response he can never voice aloud whiz through his mind. Feelings he doesn’t want to even acknowledge to himself. After a moment of forcing them down, reminding himself that he can’t say them, that she can never know because she’ll never look at him the same way again if he tells her what he feels, he offers, “I’m absolutely terrified of the dark.”

Nodding, she pretends to weigh the value of his words. “An interesting discovery,” she says. “But I don’t know if it’s quite on the proper level of secrets. However, I’m willing to let you think on it and give it another try later.” She winks and his heart skips a beat. “I’ve got to get ready for takeoff. See you soon, Doctor.” As she walks away, she touches his shoulder for just a moment and he thinks his heart might stop entirely.

The flight to Raleigh is brief and easy. They immediately get to work on the profile of a sexually sadistic killer. He most certainly has a pattern. Young professional women, all abducted at or near their workplace. All in broad daylight. And all killed within four hours from the time of abduction. This unsub has no use for them alive. It’s the act of taking their life that gets him off, of possessing every part of them. And he has a type. Staring at the bulletin board of pictures – workplace headshots, family photos, social media selfies – Reid swallows hard as he realizes every one of them looks vaguely familiar. Their hair is of slightly lengths and their facial features have some variation, but they all look as if they could be sisters, cousins at the very least. And if you put Y/N’s photo up, she would fit right in.

The realizing makes him want to pull his phone out on the spot and call her to make sure she got to the hotel safely after leaving the airport. Why don’t they travel together? Why are the pilots always separate? He needs to know they’re safe. He needs to know that she’s safe. His fingers find their way into his pocket. They wrap around the hard metal of his phone. The faces on the board stare back at him. It’s not his job to keep her safe. It’s his job to find out what happened to these women. Reid lets go. Takes a breath. And gets back to work.

Still, it is an immense relief when he walks into the hotel lobby and sees her. Y/N is sitting a table with Captain Dobson. His first instinct is to walk over and greet them both, but he falters when he realizes that the conversation they appear to be having isn’t quite so friendly. Y/N is leaning in while Dobson holds his ground. Her expression appears almost pained, his is firm but frustrated. Little adjustments in their body language betray tension that their hushed voices do not convey. Y/N says something. Dobson sets his jaw and replies. Her brow furrows and her lip curls. The next thing he knows, she’s standing up and storming away. Dobson stares after her, quietly exasperated. Then, he turns and spots Reid. Sighs. As though resigning himself to some sort of defeat. As though whatever just transpired is the doctor’s fault somehow.

Reid shifts uncomfortably under his gaze before hurrying after Y/N. The doors of the elevator she’s just stepped into are about to close but he manages to throw his hand between them just in time to stop them. The ding of silver panels sliding open once more startle her, and she looks at him with wide, unreadable eyes.

“Hi,” he breathes. “Mind if I join you?”

She shrugs. He decides it’s as good an invitation as any and steps in. “What floor?” she asks.

“Whichever one you’re going to,” he replies. They ride up in silence. When they reach the fifth floor he follows her down the hall to her room. The door clicks with the swipe of her plastic keycard and she lets him inside to a hotel room that looks and feels like so many he has been in before. Neat and organized. Nice enough to be appealing but never cozy enough to feel like home. A distinctly, albeit neutrally decorated, liminal space. White blankets and pillows that would get dirty too fast at home. A single framed painting that neither offends nor inspires. A place that lets you pretend you’re anywhere in the world, just not in a place of your own.

It is in this liminal space that she tosses the keycard on the counter and sits down with a huff on the corner of the bed with too-white blankets. There’s only one bed and not knowing quite what to do, Reid stands awkwardly before her.

“I’m guessing you saw me talking to Arthur.”

“I did. Is everything okay? You two looked… tense. And you don’t usually.”

Y/N shrugs out of her blazer and undoes her tie, quickly pulling it off and tossing it onto the bed beside her. Reid bites his lip and tries to maintain a straight face. There’s something about the uniform that still gets to him but he knows that she’s upset. He’s never seen her like this before – usually so cheerful and calm.

“Flying has always been my first love,” she says. “Like I told you – it’s all I ever really wanted to do. And no matter what else has changed in my life, it’s remained the one thing I love more than anything. I’ve worked so hard for this job, and I’ve set goals, and I’ve had dreams to keep moving forward. And I thought that’s all I wanted but now I just don’t know.”

“What’s changed?”

“You know the IRT?” she asks.

“The International Response Team? Yeah, that’s Jack Garrett’s unit.”

“Well as the name suggests they travel a lot. But you already know that, of course. You know everything,” she laughs, but the sound is mirthless. “And they have a really nice plane. A custom made C-17. Her name is Betsy. The captain of said plane is retiring. And neither of the first officers have enough hours logged for a promotion. So the Bureau has offered it to me.”

“To you?” Is that why Dobson was upset? Was he sad to see his co-pilot leaving already? It’s clear they trust each other, and he knows it stings each time he loses a colleague.

She nods. “There’s some command training I’d need to complete, and a simulator of course. Train with the captain before she retires. But I’ve flown commercial liners and planes of that size before. I’ve done long flights. And I’ve had all the other qualifications for a while.”

“But – but you just got here,” he says. It hasn’t even been a full year since she started flying for the BAU. It’s too soon.

“I know.” She sighs. “Arthur wants me to take the promotion. That’s why we were arguing.” The opposite then. He completely misread the situation. But if they disagreed and the Captain wanted her to take it that means ­–

“You don’t want to?” he asks. She looks down at her hands and Reid sits beside her on the bed.

“I should take it,” she says. “It’s what I wanted. I’d be a captain. I’d be traveling all over the world in an incredible aircraft. It’d be more time in the sky. More adventures. A chance to advance in my field. All the things I want. Arthur knows that. And he wants to see me succeed, I know that. I just…” Y/N blinks, the words caught in her throat. “I guess I’m just not sure if that is the most important thing to me anymore. And if it’s not, what does that mean?”

The air in the room shifts, as though the atmosphere itself can sense that this is dangerous territory. There are questions that, once asked, can’t be taken back. There are terrifying, reckless wishes. And against his better judgement, he asks, “Like what?”

“Like… like finding someone who makes me happy. Someone I really care about.” She turns to him and that look in her eyes is electricity. Everything hits him all at once, like lightning. It takes his breath away for a moment as things he’s been trying not to pay attention to all come to the forefront of his mind. “Like you,” she whispers. He wets his lips, and for a split second her confidence falters. “I mean, you feel it too, right?”

“I thought it was just me,” he says quietly. All this time he’d convinced himself this feeling, this quiet but consuming affection he harbored for her, was unrequited. It couldn’t be requited.

The short laugh she gives actually sounds like a laugh this time. “Spencer, come on. I’ve been falling for you for a while. Why do you think I’m always waiting earlier than I need to be at the hangar? Or breaking Arthur’s rules to spend more time with you? Why do you think it’s so easy for me to tell you things?” Her hand comes to rest over his. “You make it all so easy. It doesn’t even feel like falling with you. Just floating.”

This is everything he’s wanted to hear. This is everything he hoped he never would. His heart is soaring. His heart is aching. He needs to say something.

“You shouldn’t make this decision based on me,” is all he manages.

“I know,” she says. “I’m not foolish. But I mean it’s not just about you, there’s a lot of other reasons I think I might want to s-”

“No,” he interrupts. “I mean, I shouldn’t even be a factor in how you make this decision.”

“What?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion as she stares at him. It’s so hard to get the words out when she looks at him like that. But the photos on the board flash in his mind and he knows he has to.

“Y/N, I care about you a great deal. More than ever I planned to. More than I know what to do with. I want you to know that,” he says. His fingers interlace with hers. He’ll allow himself this small moment to be close to her. He’ll break the rules before he forces his heart back into line. “But I can’t – I can’t be with you in the way that you want.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You asked me to tell you a secret,” he says. “My girlfriend, the one who died? I know that the only reason she’s not alive anymore is because I loved her.” Y/N just continues to stare at him, as if she is trying to look straight through him. “She didn’t just die. She was murdered. She was murdered in front of me by an unsub, a stalker who became obsessed with her and then with me. If you ask anyone on my team, they’ll tell you that the unsub did what she did for a million different reasons – because of trauma, jealousy, mental illness, an environment of pressure created by the presence of armed agents, a miscalculation. But I know. I know that the reason why she killed Maeve is because I loved her.”

Y/N’s mouth has fallen open but no words come out.

“The people I love get hurt. And you can say that it’s just a pattern or an overreaction, but I know it’s not. My mother got sick. My friend was stabbed. My mentor’s partner was killed. Hotch’s lost his wife to an unsub. JJ was tortured. I’ve watched more friends than I thought I would leave this job for one reason or another, but always because something hurt them in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Statistically speaking, the odds aren’t good for anyone I care about.”

She looks back down at the carpeted floor. He can see the saltwater rising in her eyes and the knowledge that he is hurting her just by saying this is enough to make him wish he could take it all back. He wants to promise her that he’ll make sure it’s different with her. Wants to tell her that he’s been falling hopelessly for her since that day in Nebraska when he went to apologize to her and that her smile and the simple beauty of her jacket falling off her shoulder in the rain made him lose all sense of direction for two whole blocks. Tell her how he can’t stop thinking about the moment she fell asleep beside him on the couch or how he almost said I love you the next morning when she dropped him off outside his apartment before he caught himself.

But Reid can’t take it back. And he’s learned his lesson. In this life, he can’t let himself be happy, not like that. Anytime he gets too close to someone, cares too much, something awful happens. The only way to keep them safe is to keep them at a distance. Keep himself lonely.

“This job is dangerous,” he tells her. “And I’ve seen it take too many people away. I don’t want to be the reason it takes you, too. You should have a future. A bright one. A beautiful one.”

“What if I want one with you?” she asks.

Reid shakes his head, wearing a rueful smile. “I’m not worth it. You have a dream, Y/N. You should follow it. I’ve never met someone with so much passion for their job. I can see the way your eyes light up when you talk about flying. It makes you so happy.” Her joy in those moments is contagious. “I want you to be happy. Which is why I can’t be anything other than your friend.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

He winces at the bitterness in her voice. “Because I never imagined that you’d feel the same way.” Looking back now, he should have seen it. But all those little signs he managed to convince himself were only the markers of a close friendship, of a kind person. Because it would have hurt more to admit to himself that the person he couldn’t have wanted him too. It was easier to believe that he could love someone safely out of his reach. “I’m sorry.”

“What happens now?” she asks him. They sit there on the bed in a discomfortingly comfortable room, hands barely brushing.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I think you have a big decision to make. And I think maybe Arthur is right. I don’t want you to leave. But I don’t think you should stay if it means passing up the job of your dreams.”

She pulls her hand away from his. He immediately feels the sting of absence as she inhales slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. I, um… I need some time to think about this. Alone.”

The word is the sound of a closing door. It aches. But he knows it’s better this way. He can’t ask her to give up everything she’s worked for for him. For someone who might cost her everything.

“I understand,” he says. Reid stands slowly from the bed. He walks across the room. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns back for one last glance at Y/N. At his pilot. And then he steps back into the hallway, the automatic lock clicking behind him. Reid stands there in the hall, feeling completely unmoored. He thinks of the Amelia the cat staring at him with those wide green eyes. Of Humphrey Bogart in that car on the television screen, supposing that everything could be different with the girl he loved if he were not himself. And of Y/N, driving through DC under the stars. She knows so many of them by heart having used those points of light to guide her course before. It’s some kind of magic, what she can do, soaring above the earth like that.

And he thinks then of Peter Pan, the book sitting in her bag, and a particular line J.M. Barrie wrote so long ago. Stars are beautiful, but they may not take part in anything, the must just look on forever. Y/N is a plane twinkling in the night. A bird, soaring to impossible heights. But all he can do is look on. Loving her from afar. Forever, if he must.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 1

Characters: Coralie Van Alst, Mozart, Comte

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ (Please let me know if you want to be tagged)

A/N: Finally another Ikevamp oc! This was the most voted for in the interest check on the 25 Days of Christmas Voting! Thank you to everyone who voted for this oc! Enjoy the first chapter of my little musician and her unknowing meeting of her favorite composer!

Another event. Night after night, the teenager could be found in a lavish dress, violin case in her left hand, and her benefactor, Grant, hovering behind her, speaking to clients interested in her talents. His rules were absolute.

One: Don’t speak unless prompted.

Two: Every performance shall be perfection.

Three: Always please the clients

Four: No outside relations beyond the job.

She’d never known others her own age. Her education lacking, only taught basic reading and writing along with etiquette. Music took up most of her days, whether practice or event. Her talent coveted by many, but they never acknowledged the work that she put in.

“Ah, Comte! What a wonderful party. We greatly appreciate the invitation. Your pianist, Wolfram, I’d like to have him play a duet with my Coralie.” His hands rested on the young girl’s shoulders.

The regal man he spoke to gave an empty smile until his golden eyes met the mismatched amethyst and blue ones, where it turned quite warm. “Monsieur DuPont, I was unaware you had a daughter.”

Grant chuckled, digging his fingers into her bared skin when she didn’t immediately return the friendly smile. “No. This lovely, gifted violinist is sadly not of my blood. I am simply showcasing her talent here in Paris.”

“I see. However, I do not dictate whom Wolfram plays with, but I am more than willing to introduce her to him. That is, if you’d like.”

The tension was thick in the air between the two powerful men. Most groveled in the great Grant DuPont’s presence. This man was quite different. Coralie dare not check to see how her benefactor reacted to Comte’s veiled pleasantries. 

The musician they spoke of had been researched, like all with potential to leverage for the young girl to be seen by the most patrons. Wolfram Theophillius Perti. He’d been compared to the likes of Mozart. Coralie had yet to hear him play, but if he were in the same league, then for the first time, she actually wanted to meet him.

Most of those she played with were subpar, and she preferred to play alone, but she could never voice those opinions.

Thank them with a smile. Stroke their ego. Laugh at their cruel jokes.

Being a musician in this world was hard work, competitive. Many believed it not a place for women, much less a child. Some were unkind to her, jealous of her ability, of how a fifteen-year-old could play circles around them.

Always be charming, my dear. Dazzle them with your performance so no one can argue that you don’t belong.

The words of her father echoing in the back of her mind, bringing a small amount of comfort.

Grant smiled tensely but relented. He placed a sloppy kiss on her temple, all his affection for show. “Do take good care of my lovely Coralie. She’s very precious to me.” His tone light but she recognized it for what it was.

She was a commodity that brought him fame and fortune.

“I certainly will. Mademoiselle Coralie, I will escort you to Wolfram.”

With a soft thank you, she fell in step beside Comte. Eyes followed her wherever she went. Envy. Intrigue. Lust. Many high-class gentlemen wanted something from her, but never directly addressed her in fear of angering DuPont.

Somehow, it felt as though it wasn’t just her, they were watching.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing you play, but the talk among my friends is all high praise. Are you from Paris?” He’d heard many things. The young girl having only been here for a half a year and yet all social circles knew of her.

“No, Monsieur. My homeland is Belgium. Monsieur DuPont has been most gracious to house me and guide me in performing while I am here.” Always praise the one who has done so much for her family. 

Comte hummed in response. He’d never liked the man. Too many rumors of his mistreatment of his wards, throwing them away when they were no longer useful. How long would it be until this young girl became nothing to him? “Ah, Wolfram, a moment please.”

The gaggle of men and women around the musician scattered at their arrival. Although he smiled at her, she knew how empty it was. Forced, just pleasant enough, and never reaching his eyes. He listened to Comte’s introduction, to the reason she’d been brought to him. Mozart hadn’t the opportunity to respond before Comte was called away by another gentleman. Left with only the girl, he politely declined, “I’ve completed my obligation to play for the evening. Perhaps another time.”

Coralie suspected that to be a placation. The pianist had no intention of playing another time. “Please reconsider. It would be advantageous to duet with me.”

“Advantageous? I’m in no need of benefactors or patrons. Of what advantage would it be to me?” Mozart lost his facade for a split second. His violet eyes narrowed then softened. There were far too many people within earshot. “Forget the question. I simply do not play with partners.”

Yes, she’d discovered that in her research.

It’s of no consequence. You perform a duet.

Her benefactor would be quite upset if she didn’t get this man to agree. Who could say what he might do to her family? “I understand. Most in our profession do not have the aptitude for an impromptu performance.”

“Precisely-”

“I am not one of them,” Coralie said, bringing her mismatched eyes up to meet his gaze. If he’d been anyone else, she would not push so hard. But she needed to hear him play, to know if he was worthy of being compared to the great Mozart. “None of them possess my skill. Please perform one song with me.” Coralie bent forward into a pleading bow, one thing that she was not allowed to do.

Being polite, gentle, quiet-- those were her instruction.

Never bow to those with inferior skill for that will only make you appear desperate.

If Grant were watching her, he’d surely be incredibly displeased. He likely wouldn’t understand why she felt the need to. Coralie had to make Wolfram understand how much she wanted to play with him.

“One song.” His voice low, filled with irritation, but it brought her attention up to his sour features. Mozart might admire how brazen the child was, and perhaps he relented because she reminded him of his human self. “One song and then you will never approach me again.”

A single chance was all she needed to prove her worth.

The pair didn’t speak as they prepared. Mozart took a seat on the bench; violet irises observed the practiced and careful way she took the violin from the case. The way she’d lit up at his song choice confused him.

Mozart’s Sonata 16 in C Major, first movement, do you know it?

Of course, she was well versed in all Mozart’s songs. He was her favorite composer to study and practice. Coralie rested against the chinrest, waiting for his first note. She felt the violin as an extension of her own body.

The crowd grew silent as they began, allowing the melody to flow around the room like the wind, gentle and constant. The strings caressed her fingers, sound pure and sweet. It mixed seamlessly with the rich, crisp tune of the piano. Two complete strangers in perfect harmony.

It was a reintroduction. Words failed to establish common ground. It was in their playing, their ability to create beautiful music, that they could begin to understand each other. Wielding their instruments was like barring their soul.

They complimented each other, piano and violin intertwining like polished dance partners gracefully gliding across a ballroom floor. They’d captured every ear, every heart with a poised rendition of Mozart’s Sonata.

It was only once the song came to a close that Coralie returned to the real world, applause erupting. Truly, this man was most incredible, like no other she’d been forced to duet with. He commanded the keys like a captain steering a ship through a deadly storm; firm and unrelenting, not afraid of the powerful sound. But he also contained a gentleness, making the ivory keys sing as the birds at the dawn of a new day.

Socialites swarmed around him, flocked to her. Their chatter equivalent to nails on a chalkboard to Coralie. She safely secured her violin in the case before slipping out to the balcony. She wanted to ingrain that performance to her memory.

The girl swam in the melody so fresh within her. Her body alight with chills. Never had a duet affected her so, sounded so alluring. This night would become one of her most treasured.

“It wasn’t unbearable. Although, I’d say you’ve plenty of room to improve.” Wolfram’s voice grounded her back in the world void of their dazzling melody. He didn’t make a habit of chasing after other musicians, but this girl... “You deviated from the song as written.”

“It complimented the original composition,” she countered.

“Irrelevant. You should always play as the composer intended.”

Coralie turned her gaze up to the night sky. The stars crowded between the gray clouds twinkled in applause. “I pay no attention to anybody’s praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings.”

Silence followed her statement.

“No one can say what he intended, but he was right. Music is deeply rooted, entangled, in feeling. Any simpleton with a few lessons can play the notes on the page. What makes a true musician is the ability to breathe real, raw, emotion into the song, don’t you think?” Coralie turned to face him, a tender smile on her lips. There were few who could understand why she felt that way.

Mozart hadn’t the chance to respond. He’d been quite shocked at her enlightened view on music. It was rare to find such passionate sentiment with one as talented as her. He would have not hated having a discussion, but the young violinist swayed on her feet, lashes brushing against her pale cheeks.

He barely caught her when she fell unconscious.

[guiltysecretpasttime]

The Airbender’s Wife

Note: A sort-of follow-up to Contentment; because this idea was sticking in my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. Again, this might have already been done before because I’m pretty sure it’s not that new but here’s my spin on it. Please let me know what you think. Let me know as well if have another idea for the title, I’m half and half about it.

===

Korra was bouncing with excitement as she leaned at the railing of the ship. Only a few hours were left until she would see the large statue of the previous Avatar, signaling the edge of Republic City.

After being holed up in the compound at the Pole for most of her life, Korra was keen to see the rest of the world. But first, Airbending training at Republic City would take precedence.

Sure, the White Lotus said they would need to protect her and to train her before bringing her out to the world. But really, what more can she learn when she was isolated from the rest of humanity?

Thank the Spirits that her Airbending master had other obligations in Republic City.

Thank the Spirits for his wife for suggesting moving the training to the city in the first place.

Patting her polar bear dog Naga who had joined her on deck, Korra realized that she knew precious little about Tenzin’s wife. And from what little she did know; the young Avatar was unsure how to feel about the woman. If anything, aside from being the instigator of the transfer of the Avatar, the facts Korra gathered about said woman did not bode well in creating the best of impressions.

--

Fact 1: She’s married to Tenzin, the last Airbender.

The first time Korra learned that Tenzin was married caught her by surprise.

From her recollection, it was around Tenzin’s third or fourth visit to the compound, back when she was completing her Waterbending training. Her parents had invited the family of Master Katara over for dinner when they learned her sons were visiting, offering to host the family for a couple of meals so that the waterbender would not needlessly worry about spending time with and entertaining her children. Never mind that these adult children just wanted to check in with how their mother was doing and would not really need any host to help them out.

Korra, her parents, Master Katara and her two oldest children were already settled in the dining area and were each clutching a bowl of soup when the airbender arrived.

“So, no wife today, Tenny?” Bumi asked, by way of greeting. The United Forces Commander proceeded to toss an empty bowl to his brother, who easily caught it midflight.

“No,” Tenzin sat down beside his sister, who pushed some noodles towards him.

Korra quickly swallowed her food and asked. “You’re married?” She had assumed he was a monk and therefore abstained from all, well, worldly things and relationships.  She said as much.

Loud guffaws erupted from the siblings of said monk, whose head turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

“What – where – how did you – why did you think -?”

This brought about more laughter which confused Korra further.

Tenzin’s sister, Kya, a talented waterbending healer in her own right, was the first one to recover. “Oh Korra, don’t let Mr. Serious fool you.” She patted her brother’s arm in emphasis.

“Yeaaah,” Bumi slurped his noodles noisily, ignoring Tenzin’s frown. “He be foolin’ around way before marriage.”

“BUMI!” Tenzin shouted, throwing a mortified glance at Korra and her parents, who were slack jawed at being caught unawares with these revelations. “They need not know that!” Water Tribe culture, after all, values privacy. Family life was deemed a private matter and some things are just taboo to discuss in public. Though, being raised in the previous Avatar’s household did not appear to hold them in the same restraint.

“Ahaaa!” Kya responded triumphantly, pointing her chopsticks at him. “So, you do admit that you were doing the deed with -!”

“Mother,” The usually unflappable airbender all but pleaded, hands shaking as though he can erase the previous minutes by airbending. “Don’t listen to them!”

Korra peered at the quiet master waterbender, who was calmly sipping her soup with a small smile on her face. “Oh, calm down, children.” Katara put down her bowl and tilted her head in apology to Tonraq and Senna. “Bumi, Kya – that’s enough. Your brother just arrived from Republic City; let him breathe. And Tenzin,” Korra noticed a twinkle in the old woman’s eyes, as through reminiscing a pleasant memory. “Don’t try pulling the wool over my eyes – I might not have your mother-in-law’s abilities, but I knew what you and Lin were up to. Those were not sparring bruises on your neck and chest that your father and I saw when we removed your robes for the airbending tattoos ceremony.”

At the time, Korra did not fully understand what was so funny about it but now she had a name for the airbender’s wife.

Fact 2: Her name is Lin.

----

Fact 3: Apparently, she bakes well.

The Water Tribe-born Avatar was practicing her bending one day when Tenzin arrived for a meeting with the White Lotus. She bowed as Master Katara signaled to take a break while her son bent down to give her a hug.

“Lin sends her love.” Tenzin murmurs to his mother. “And a ton of fruit buns.” He used airbending to lift a large canvass bag from the sky bison’s saddle, grinning as he presented the bag.

“That’s very thoughtful of her.” Korra sees a smile on the wizened woman’s face. “Has she been eating well?” Katara inquired, peering into the bag of buns.

“Oh, she tries,” Tenzin had a soft expression on his face as he responded. “I make sure to remind her when I can.”

Katara selected a bun, then noticing Korra moving at the periphery, tossed one at her. “Korra, Lin baked some fruit buns - you should try it.”

Korra nodded her thanks, never having tried fruit buns before. She bit a portion of it and chewed. The bread was fluffy and fragrant. It was pleasant, and so she took another bite. The filling burst into her mouth, sweet and flavorful. The fruit bun was good, Korra decided. She sat down at the steps of the training ring, enjoying the treat, mindful of having full view of Katara in case she decides to resume training.

“Ah there you are, welcome Master Tenzin.” One of the older White Lotus members strolled over, bowing slightly, having seen the sky bison descend a few minutes earlier.

Korra did not like this guy very much; he was always frowning as if it was such a chore to handle matters relating to the Avatar. She wondered why on earth he took on the oath of being part of the Order of the White Lotus when he found everything disagreeable. She irately took another bite of the fruit bun.

Tenzin stiffly bowed back to the man.

“Are you – alone?” Frowny asked, raising an eyebrow in obvious judgment. “I had thought Lady Lin would have joined you with regards to the Avatar’s training.”

Korra’s ears perked upon hearing about the Lady Lin.

“Lin has a full-time job back in the city,” Tenzin ground out tersely, stressing his wife’s name. “As you may know, she cannot easily leave her responsibilities behind for long periods.”

Korra stuffed the rest of the bun in her mouth; eager to listen without distractions. This was beginning to sound interesting.

“And yet you are here, Councilman.” Frowny Old Man smiled condescendingly, expression laden with insinuations. “I would have thought that training the Avatar would account as a matter of high importance.”

“With all due respect,” The airbender rebutted placidly. “I am to be the Avatar’s teacher, not Lin. I don’t see why she would need to travel to this side of the world for nothing.”

Frowny just shrugged with a smirk on his face, bowed to Katara and left the group, indicating for Tenzin to follow him for the meeting. Korra thought if airbenders were not averse to violence, Tenzin would have punched the man.

Katara placed a hand on her son’s arm, getting his attention.

“She is needed in Republic City,” Tenzin took a few deep breathes. “And this is precisely why she would rather not deal with the White Lotus.”

Tenzin followed inside soon after and Katara resumed Korra’s training.

As she went through the motions of the waterbending forms, Korra thought she might like Lady Lin (she decided to call her that in her mind) with her sweet pastries and her dislike for Frowny.

Fact 4: She has a full-time job in Republic City.

----

Fact 5: She’s an earthbender.

“Korra, can you help please?” Senna’s calm voice echoed in the empty hall where her daughter was (supposed to be) reviewing Fire Nation history. “I’m sorry to bother you but -.”

The Avatar got up immediately, interrupting her mother, tossing aside the text. “Say no more, say no more. What do you need me to do?” Korra was not one to sit still. She understood the importance of the literature, arts, culture, and history but she just found it arduous.

The relief on Senna’s face was evident. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. You see, I need these blankets to be brought to the healing hut.” She transferred the pile of textile on her arms to her daughter’s waiting ones and indicated another set of blankets by her foot. “Master Katara wanted the healers to prepare for the coming snowstorm and I’ll need to hurry back to her and Kya at the apothecary.”

“No problem, Mom.” Korra responded, voice muffled and fully hidden by the pile of blankets.

Kicking the snow, she raised the bag of blankets by her feet to her arms. She grunted in the effort but well, don’t work hard - work smart, she always thought.

Turning to face the direction of what she thought to be the healing hut, Korra’s progress was slow with the balancing act of the towering blankets on her arms. Several people asked to help her but were responded with a strained “no, thank you, I handle it” from the teenage Avatar.

Unfortunately, a particularly slippery spot on the floor resulted in Korra toppling the blankets over and having them land on the snow into a soppy pile.

Korra groaned in frustration. No way she was going to bring this to the healers. The gossipy women always tsk’d whenever Korra would land in the hut with another scrape. She did not want to face their disapproval.

She leaned beside the hut, scrunched her face in concentration as she cleared portion of the ground and placed the bag, bending it dry. She was thankful that the blankets landed on clean snow rather than muddy sleet.

Korra crouched under the window of the hut, hoping that no healer would go out or peek to see the mess she made. She started to painstakingly pull the water out of each of the other blankets and put them on the dry bag to make sure it does not land on the snow again.

“I hear that the Avatar would be leaving the compound soon.”

“Really? I thought she would have a couple more of elements to master. Isn’t Airbending the last one?”

The Avatar in question grimaced. She knew nothing good comes out of eavesdropping, but she did not have a choice now, did she?

“Yes, but, don’t say you heard it from me,” One of the healers whispered excitedly. “But supposedly, Master Tenzin, the Airbending master,” Korra thought they said the name breathlessly and reverently. For what reason, she was not sure – I mean, everyone knew who Avatar Aang’s son was. “Was not allowed by his earthbending wife to leave the city.”

A gasp was heard. “No!”

“Yes,” The first healer continued while Korra leaned cautiously while soundlessly drying each blanket. “It’s all hush hush but the decision came from her – the Avatar will be travelling out for training. Never mind that all other masters had stayed in this compound to supervise Korra’s training. She decided that her husband is above it all,” The tone was full of disapproval. “She forced the decision – it’s not like there was another Airbending master, after all.”

Korra was dismayed; she was sure that Tenzin was unable to stay in the South Pole Compound because he had city council duties.

“How selfish!” The second healer exclaimed, no longer keeping her outrage quiet. “Well, what did we expect from her after what she did or didn’t do, for that matter.”

“What? What didn’t she do?” Korra pondered to herself as she wished silently for the two women to continue their chatter, becoming invested in the discussion now.

Thankfully, the two gossipy healers had much to say.

“True, this further cements her reputation of being a power-hungry bender who probably doesn’t care for her husband or even the future of the four nations itself. She is from a wealthy family and her lineage is well-known – what more can she ask for?”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” Korra thought as she squeezed out the water of the last two blankets. “How could the actions of one woman regarding her husband impact the future of the four nations?”

“I know right, I mean, why didn’t she consider it an honor? Can you believe she didn’t want to have kids! She must detest her husband or kids if she didn’t want them at all. If it were me,” The second healer empathically stated. “I would have no problem repopulating the entire Air Nation with him. I mean have you seen -!”

Korra burst into the healing hut dropping the blankets quickly on the nearest cot. “Hello-MomandMasterKatara-wanted-these-blankets-ready-for-the-snowstorm-thanks.” Ignoring the startled healers, she had to get out of here.

Nothing good ever came out of eavesdropping. The Avatar felt sick.

For all the limited interaction she had with Tenzin, he genuinely appeared to be in love with his wife. His wife who never came to the South Pole. His wife who did not bother to join him in his meetings with the Avatar. His wife who never visited her mother-in-law. His wife who put her career high on her priorities.

Tenzin’s faceless earthbending wife, the mysterious Lady Lin, was going down a couple of notches in Korra’s esteem.

With a slight feeling of dread – she realized she was going to live with her for an unforeseen period in the future.

Fact 6: She didn’t want children with the last airbender.

---

Korra realized she had been daydreaming as the captain of the ship announced their imminent arrival as Air Temple Island and Aang’s Memorial came into view. Her eyes squint while she tried to see the details of the temples from afar.

Air Temple Island - where the mysterious Lady Lin (as Korra had dubbed her in her mind) and the Airbending Master lived apart from the citizenry of Republic City. She stopped herself from shuddering at the thought of living with who she thought was a calculating heiress of sorts. As much as she wanted to ask about Tenzin and his wife, Korra felt intimidated by Kya and Master Katara and after all, her mother ingrained with her – family is private. All she gathered was it was true that Tenzin was childless.

“Well, I’m the Avatar,” Korra consoled herself as she grabbed her bag and tossed it on Naga. “What could go wrong?” She assured herself and her best friend, the polar bear dog, as she saw the White Lotus sentries awaiting her arrival at the docks. And, what is life without uncertainty, eh?

---

So apparently, a lot could go wrong – Avatar or not.

“Tenzin and the mysterious Lady Lin are gonna be so pissed,” Korra muttered as she bent her head on the metal table in front of her. Never in her life did she imagine that her first day in Republic City would be spent in an interrogation room.

Well, it certainly was not her fault that on their way to City Hall to meet Tenzin, Naga got sidetracked by the smell of food. Definitely not her fault that the White Lotus sentries were just walking and could not catch up with them.

Not her fault that for some reason she got involved in a clash with some triad members. As far as she knew, she was just doing the Avatar thing and helping keep peace in the neighborhood.

But apparently, it was not viewed that way by the Republic City Police Department.

The Avatar hit her forehead on the table again. “Stupid, stupid.” She sighed, wondering whether someone has called Tenzin or the mysterious Lady Lin. “So much for first impressions.” Korra obviously did not want her first encounter with the earthbending partner of Tenzin to be in a metal cube. She also did not want them to bail her out, wondering for the nth time what would the Lady Lin do if she found out she would have to spend money to get the Avatar out of jail.

One of the metal panels slid open and Korra sat up straight in attention.

An irate metalbender entered the room, holding a file and was reading off it “Let’s see – multiple counts of destruction of private and city property…”

Korra grimaced at each mention as she watched the female cop pace. She tried to defend herself.

“You should have called the police instead!” The woman slapped the clipboard on the table. “You have no business involving yourself with the triads!”

The teenager stared back at the grey-haired metalbender. “But you see – I had to do something, I’m the Avatar.” The Water Tribe girl smiled and opened her hands in innocence.

“I know who you are,” The metalbender was unimpressed. “And that doesn’t mean much around here. If anything, I should probably add something to your file,” She took the clipboard and started to write. “You also evaded your security detail, which is a breach of protocol; detoured from your journey management plan – also a breach of protocol, run about the city with your unregistered polar bear dog -.”

“Wait what?” Korra sputtered, interrupting the litany. “Unregistered – what are you – Naga is my friend.”

“And I’m a sky bison.” The stern woman deadpanned, tapping the clipboard on the table.

“I want to speak to whoever’s in-charge here.” Korra wiggled her wrists. “Please.”

Green eyes blinked at her. “You’re talking to her.” As she sat in the light, Korra noted the RCPD badge on the woman’s uniform. “I’m Chief Beifong.”

Just then a small metal panel opened and another cop spoke. “Chief, Councilman Tenzin is on his way.”

An irritated expression fell on the older woman’s face. “What time is it, Saikhan?”

“Uh – fifteen minutes past –.”

“Get in here!” Chief Beifong called authoritatively, getting up from the seat.

Deputy Chief Saikhan enters the interrogation room, awaiting orders.

“I don’t have time to babysit the Avatar,” Beifong ignored Korra’s “hey!” and just rattled off instructions. “And wait for the councilman. I have a previous appointment that I’ll need to keep. I want you, specifically you, to take care of this.” She thrust the clipboard into other metalbender’s hands. “Make sure to read each of these one by one,” She indicated each item in Korra’s file. “I don’t want the Avatar leaving headquarters with just a slap on the wrist, without a clear resolution, got it?”

“Yes, Chief.”

Without further ado, Chief Beifong exited the room with a clang of metal.

“Make sure Councilman Tenzin gets it.”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Korra asked, unhelpfully from her seat.

Saikhan just shrugged, reviewing the clipboard, feeling no pity for the young woman who he had to chase across Republic City earlier.

---

Korra sat sullenly at the side table in Tenzin’s office in city hall, listlessly reading through Airbender culture literature.

After Deputy Saikhan had read the cases against Korra and after a back and forth regarding the details on covering the damages (“Yes, I will personally take it out of the Air Temple Island budget – yes Saikhan, you may get that in writing.”), Tenzin and Korra had walked silently to the Republic City Hall, Naga in tow. For some reason, Korra felt worse with the airbender’s silence than when she was at the receiving end of the chief of police’s acerbic tongue.

The walk to city hall was uneventful, save for Tenzin using airbending to keep the press waiting at city hall steps at bay. He had ushered her in the office and sent his secretary to take care of the polar bear dog in the meantime.

“Stay here.” He then left with a billow of yellow and red robes.

Tenzin was back within fifteen minutes and had, in no uncertain terms, expressed his disappointment in what had occurred upon her arrival.

Korra just bit her tongue. This day was just not going the way she wanted it to be. And she just knew it was about to get worse when she finally (finally) meets the mysterious Lady Lin.

The airbending master just shook his head at the end of his sermon, giving her a couple of Airbender literature, asking her to read up on the culture and just stay in his office while he finished work for the day.

Just as Korra was reading about the chi sensing abilities of a Guru Pathik, a two short raps on the door interrupted the monotony of the afternoon.

“Come in,” Tenzin looked up from the documents he was going over and his secretary entered.

“Councilman, Chief Beifong is here to see you.” The secretary formally announced.

Korra tensed. Not again.

Tenzin sighed, beckoning the secretary to let the Chief of Police in.

With the force of energy that seemed to always radiate around her (or at least always in the short time that Korra was exposed to the abrasive woman), Chief Beifong strode in the Air Nation Council Office. “You’re paying for this, Councilman?” She slammed a file on Tenzin’s desk. The secretary left the room quietly, closing the doors behind her. “You’re not saving me paperwork here.”

From her position, Korra recognized it as the affidavit Tenzin signed at the police headquarters earlier.

“I –.” Tenzin put up a hand to explain.

“I’ll handle it.” She waved him off. “When we had the meeting about training the Avatar,” Beifong shot a quick glance at the teenager at the side table. “The agreement was in Air Temple Island not Republic City. I thought that was clear?”

“Yes, I’m sorry but,” He floundered for words, gesturing at Korra and the room.

“Oh shoot,” Korra thought to herself. “Tenzin’s gonna land both of us in jail.”

“And another thing – a polar bear dog, Tenzin?” The Chief straightened up. “Did you know she was bringing her polar bear dog? You didn’t register that.”

The Avatar was sure that she informed her Airbending Master that she was bringing Naga but she wisely kept quiet.

At the councilman’s nod, Beifong pinched her nose bridge in exasperation. “With the exception of Lord Zuko’s dragon and the Air Nation’s sky bison, all large animals would need to be registered. We can’t have an entire menagerie loose in the city.”

“I’ll handle that, make sure it’s filed within today.” Tenzin took the form from the packet the Chief placed on the table.

“Is there anything else, I’ll need to know?” Beifong took the rest of the packet as she moved to exit the room, standing by the door now.

But before airbender could respond, the door opened and a man in Water Tribe attire burst in, Tenzin’s secretary trailed behind with annoyance. “Councilman, I’m sorry – I told Councilman Tarrlok you were in a meeting but…”

Korra thought she detected a hint of empathy in the chief’s expression as she considered the secretary.

“Councilman Tenzin,” The Water Tribe Councilman (Tarrlok, did they say?) inclined his head in greeting. “Chief Beifong.” Korra was not sure but she felt the Water Tribe man was being leery at the stern police chief, though it was probably her imagination. Nonetheless, she sought to keep still and not draw attention to herself at Tenzin’s side tables.

A glance at Tenzin showed him reddening while Beifong just continued to frown.

“This was a private meeting, Tarrlok,” Tenzin began.

“Oh, all business?” Tarrlok acted like he did not feel the tense atmosphere in the room. “Or something else altogether?” Korra did not comprehend what the other councilmember was hinting at. “You know I wouldn’t mind if -.”

Beifong cut in. “Is there anything you need, Councilman?”

The man just looked at his nails calmly. “I was just going to check in with Tenzin if he had already arranged security with our esteemed,” He let his gaze linger on the metalbender. “Chief of Police for tomorrow’s press conference.”

The chief of police in question shot a look at the other councilman, who quickly spoke up. “That was what you interrupted, I was about to discuss with her that the press conference of the Avatar was moved to tomorrow.”

Korra almost blurted out, “What press conference?” but the words caught in her throat as she saw the metalbender pin her with a look.

“Ahh, good good.” Tarrlok darted an uninterested look at Korra’s direction, probably dismissing her as one of Tenzin’s scholars. “Looking forward to attending it tomorrow then. Councilman, Chief.”

With the same bluster he had as he entered, the Northern Water Tribe Councilman exited the room, doors slamming behind him.

“Press conference?” Korra and Beifong both exclaimed when Tarrlok was out of earshot.

“I was going to tell you later,” Tenzin pointed at Korra. “And I was about to tell you.” He shot at the police chief who was glowering. “We had to move it up given that Korra here basically announced her arrival to the city earlier. The press wouldn’t stop until she releases a statement; the council thought the sooner the better.”

“Did you even prepare her? And wait a minute, you said the press conference was moved up – when was it supposed to be?” The metalbender crossed her arms. “A heads up would have been appreciated, Tenzin. Even just a heads up, Spirits know how easy you could have given me a heads up.” Chief Beifong rolled her eyes before leaving. “I’ll have to get back to headquarters; arrange for a security detail tomorrow and a perimeter check.”

Tenzin rubbed a hand over his face tiredly then gestured towards a form on his table. “Korra, can you fill up this animal registration form, please?”

---

Korra did not know what to expect of Air Temple Island.

Tenzin gave her a quick tour of the place (“That’s where the girls dormitories are, there’s the boys dormitories – you’re not allowed there by the way, the general training area, the earthbending wing is right behind that building there, the sky bison stables are behind the dormitories, the meditation areas, you’ll be staying in the main family residence with Lin and myself, we’re the only ones there, the air acolytes have their respective dormitories...”), showed her to her room, and handed her a schedule of chores and training sessions (“The air acolytes occasionally help in the main house but Lin insisted that this is still our household so we take on our usual chores as we used to in our Republic City house. I was thinking to eventually integrate you into our schedule.”).

After she had settled in her room and checked that Naga was taken care of and fed, Korra came across Tenzin who was at the living room of the house, speaking to someone on the portable radio.

“Yes dear,” He was rubbing the back of his neck as he paced. “Lin, I know – I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to help you with the paperwork. I’ll take it out of the budget of the household,” He paused to listen to the other line, wincing at what appeared to be sharp words. “No, there’s no other option right now.”

Korra felt guilty, if she had not lost control of Naga, Tenzin would not be having this conversation now with his wife, the mysterious Lady Lin.

“Mhhmm, okay. Love you too, Lin. Be safe.” Tenzin replaced the radio on its repository beside the couch when he spotted Korra, shifting apprehensively by the doorway. “Ah, Korra, just in time for dinner.” He beckoned her to follow him into the dining room.

The teenage Avatar meekly followed, the excitement of the day wearing down and embarrassment was starting to catch up.

“Hey Tenzin,” She began, unsure how to broach the subject as she sat down. Tenzin lifted his eyes from his rice bowl, waiting. “I’m sorry about how today turned out and for causing a lot of problems.” Korra fiddled with her fingers nervously. “I really didn’t mean to, you know? And I hope I didn’t cause too much, um, problem with your wife…”  She trailed off.

Tenzin’s lips twitched to a smile as he watched the young Avatar earnestly apologize. “Well, maybe you should just apologize to her yourself. But unfortunately, that wouldn’t be until tomorrow, I suppose.” At the young woman’s questioning gaze, he continued. “That was Lin earlier, she radioed that she’s caught up at work and would miss dinner today.”

Looks like I wouldn’t be meeting the mysterious Lady Lin today, Korra thought to herself as she poked the chopsticks into her rice bowl.

---

Korra twisted and turned in bed before deciding to sit up for a while, finding difficulty in sleeping.

She supposed she should be kind to herself. For the first time in forever, she was away from the South Pole, from home, from her family. She held her knees to herself as she looked out at the window, towards the lights of Republic City.

She had hoped to make a better first impression but instead was able to make an enemy out of the entire law enforcement agency by butting heads with the chief of police. She also got her airbending master into trouble with his wife. And she still has not met said mysterious wife; her first conversation would have to be an apology, which did not present well for future interactions.

Korra sighed as she thought of earlier that evening.

Tenzin was kind and paternal; asking about Korra and the Southern Water Tribe as they ate. He also asked about her parents and his mother and sister. They talked about her trip and about their schedule for the next day. He also tried to give her a crash course on press relations and public speaking.

There was something about the house though. The Avatar could not put her finger on it but there was something odd.

As she helped Tenzin clear out the table, she realized what it was. There were no photos around the house; a bit odd considering that the main residential building in Air Temple Island was like an ancestral home.

She brought the photos up with Tenzin, who was scooping some noodles into a bowl.

He had a ready explanation for it: Lin did not feel comfortable keeping up the old photos and had stashed them away.

Korra hoped her thoughts on the matter were not evident on her face. To her, it felt like the mysterious Lady Lin was tamping down the memories of the previous Avatar, of the Air Nation.

She was then surprised when Tenzin added slices of meat on the bowl he was preparing. “But you don’t eat meat.” She commented as she continued to dry the other dishes they had used that night.

“I don’t, but Lin does.” He had that odd smile on his face, the same one she used to see when they were in the South Pole and his wife is brought up.  He got a small piece of paper and wrote a note for this wife, sticking it under the bowl. He shared with Korra that with Lin’s odd hours, the least he could do was to have some semblance of a meal waiting for her at home. The Avartar idly marveled at the devotion that the airbender had for his wife.

    Lost in thought, she thought heard someone padding down the corridors. Wary but sure that no intruder could have gotten in without causing alarm from the sentries outside, she slowly opened her bedroom door to peer in the dark hallway, all she saw of the figure was a bare foot entering the master bedroom.

So the Lady Lin was home.

---

The next day utterly sucked for the Avatar-in-training.

First off, she had to wake up at ungodly hour before the sun has risen because of morning meditation. Everything continued downhill from there.

She had blearily trudged up the steps to the meditation area. At her core, she was a waterbender. I rise with moon indeed. She basically failed meditation because she could not keep still, nodding off from time to time.

Later on, she ended up bruised and battered from the airbending gates, almost destroying the relic in frustration.

Nearing the main house, Tenzin and Korra were greeted by the appetizing aroma of baked bread. A passing air acolyte cheerfully greeted them and let the master of the house know that his wife has already left for work that day.

Seeing a note beside the tray of bread from the mysterious Lady Lin (Korra felt she ought to keep calling her that in her head because Mrs Tenzin doesn’t quite cut it). She thought Tenzin would have been delighted but he just paled.

“Oh no,” Tenzin fingered the note. “Lin’s still in a bad mood.”

Plain buns; heat in the oven before eating. Will try to get home in time for dinner later. xLin

“What,” Korra was skeptical. “How can she be – didn’t she bake this for you?”

“She did – but it’s a weekday, on a day she had duty, after a long night –.” Tenzin cleared his throat. “She’s got some pent-up stress,” He pushed the tray of perfectly shaped round pieces of bread. “Probably why she thought to punch it all out in the dough this morning.”

Korra decided then that maybe she’ll not get married if it meant dealing with these kinds of situations. Too taxing. Or maybe to find a nice non-bender husband who would hopefully not want to punch things to make himself feel better. Meh. It’s probably the lack of sleep, Korra inwardly scolded her thoughts.

The press conference did not go well either. Or well, it was as well as Tenzin thought it could be. Korra doubted it though. The airbender was ever the optimist after all.

The entire time, she could feel Chief Beifong scowling from behind her and Tenzin grunting in irritation at her left.

She could tell neither were pleased with the press conference.

---

The rest of the day was spent in City Hall as Tenzin completed some work as he will be off the next day.

Korra found out it was his turn to prepare dinner but with his current preoccupation, he opted to go around Republic City to take out food. She helped select some of the dishes, Tenzin nodding in approval (“Lin would like that too. She’ll be pleased to finally have another meat-eater with us.” Korra doubted but did not voice out her opinion.).

Reaching home (the new resident thought she needed to start thinking of Air Temple Island as such to acclimatize), Korra volunteered to set up the table.

Both the Avatar and the airbender had been half-way through the meal when soft clicks of metal could be heard approaching them.

Korra was surprised to see the Chief of Republic City’s Metalbending Police enter the dining room.

She barely had time to kneel from her seat to acknowledge her. “Chief.”

Beifong looked at her, appearing to be amused. “Avatar.” She drawled before she settled herself beside Tenzin.

“Aren’t you going to remove your armor?” Tenzin dropped his chopsticks and Korra noticed the subtle movement of the airbender’s fingers at the side of the metalbender.

Chief Beifong swatted at his hands. “I’m tired and hungry, Tenzin. Can we do away with etiquette, for now, please?” She reached for a bowl of rice and topped it with some thinly sliced barbecued meat while Tenzin poured her some tea. “I’ll clean up later.”

The Avatar felt like she was in a surreal reality. An alternate universe.

What was going on, she paused mid-bite as the two middle-aged benders just continued to eat.

“Did you even eat lunch today?” Tenzin was eying the woman beside him, who had not paused in alternately getting food to her bowl, plate and mouth.

“Eh, no – had to prepare my men for the press conference,” Beifong rolled her eyes. “Whose fault was that?” She wiped her lips.

“Before you even point fingers at me,” Tenzin pinched open a pau, letting the steam out. “That was Tarrlok, he wanted the conference to happen at that time.”

“Couldn’t you have influenced the other members to push back? We weren’t prepared – you weren’t prepared,” She turned her thumb in Korra’s direction. “She wasn’t prepared.”

This brought Korra back to her wits and continued to eat. She looked at their plates. If they did not slow down soon, there would not be any food left for the mysterious Lady Lin. She frowned as she faced her dinner mates who carried on with work discussions. She pushed herself to be more attentive – both to the door and to the conversation around her.

“By the way, I have the files ready for council approval regarding the budget.” The discussion turned to the damages that Korra inflicted downtown; she flinched but neither adult paid her mind.

“No need, Tenzin – I’ve talked to Suyin.”

“What does your sister have to do with this?”

“We’ll supply the raw materials and Su will reallocate some of her workforce from Zaofu to finish the renovation quickly.”

Tenzin’s eyebrows raised at this. “Why? There’s no need for that. Republic City can manage.”

“No, we don’t.” Beifong was calmly responding in between bites. “Think about it. If you go to the council asking for the publicly funded Air Temple cultural restoration budget to be reallocated to construction,” She waved a chopstick in to stress her points. “Specifically to the Earthen Fire Refinery for raw materials,” She saw the comprehension dawn on the airbender’s face. “Whether or not it was well-intended, that request will not look good to the council.”

“You’re right,” Tenzin exhaled deeply.

Korra slowed down to chew her food, wondering why it would not look good. Is it because they were friends? Their parents were friends?

“Korra,” The airbender called her attention. “You’re a bit subdued tonight. Is everything okay?”

The two adults before her looked at her in mild concern. She swallowed and just gestured to the food.

“Go ahead,” The metalbender handed her a plate of steamed pau. “Eat some more. It’s been a long day and you’ll need your strength.” The sharp eyes of the police chief caught her wince as she extended her arm to get the plate. “Tenzin,” She poked at the Avatar’s side none too gently, the soreness making her grimace. Beifong swiftly faced the airbending teacher. “Did you bring her to the airbending gates on day one?”

“Yes…” Tenzin ran a hand on his head slowly.

“Did you check on her after?” At Tenzin’s confirmation of not doing so, the gray-haired woman now turned her attention to the perplexed Avatar. “How many times did he make you go through the gates? Were you – tossed outside of the gates?” At the girl’s awkward shrug and affirmative response, she motioned her hand to the direction of the hallway. “Tenzin, get the salve from my dresser – you know that one, I’m sure.”

Korra blinked. The Chief of Police lived at Air Temple Island? Where? How come Tenzin never mentioned it?

Her quarters must not have been far as Tenzin was back in the dining room in no time at all. “But that’s how my father trained me…”

The Avatar’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What’s up with these two – what about Lin?

“Your mother was there during your training and she was also there when my mother trained your father for earthbending.” Beifong accepted the pot of salve that Tenzin handed her. “Point being – there was always a healer at hand so training could proceed quicker without a lot of recovery time needed.” She offered the salve to the Avatar, instructing her on how to use it later that night. “Barring that, in the academy we used this balm that your mother created.”

“I’m sorry, Avatar.” Tenzin settled himself back beside Beifong, his contrite face visible. “I suppose I never considered that aspect.”

The Chief of Police’s words had an unusually protective tone. “Chin up, Airhead, it’s your first time to teach airbending and you couldn’t have known – you were obviously a natural at the skill.” She bumped his shoulder gently.

“It’s okay, Master Tenzin.” The Avatar gingerly opened the pot, sniffing the salve which had a comforting scent of eucalyptus and mint.

“What would I do without you, dear.” To Korra’s surprise, Tenzin kissed the metalbender’s cheek as she leaned on him. “And just call me Tenzin.” He directed the last part to the Water Tribe teen, who was hiding her dismay at the perceived disloyalty happening in front of her.

Beifong just patted his cheek then tugged his beard. “We all know where you’d be without me now – all of Air Nation would probably be bowing down to you as their patriarch.” She laughed at his horrified face. “What? Don’t tell me that wasn’t what you envisioned.”

“Of course not!” The man just scoffed. “You make the Air Nation sound like an underground cult…”

“Isn’t it just?” Good mood revived by food, Beifong used her bending to summon the metal tray containing the rest of the bread from earlier that morning. “Avatar, Mother mentioned in one of her letters that you enjoyed the fruit buns I sent last time. I tried something new this morning – just incorporated some of the island’s melons into the dough. Not sure if it turned out well.” She broke a piece off and placed it on the young girl’s saucer.

Fruit buns, fruit buns… Korra had a vague recollection about it, but what? “Just call me Korra, I’m just in training after all.” Was what she responded with though.

At Tenzin’s pointed stare, Chief Beifong raised an eyebrow. “What? I rather like it that she calls me Chief.” She gave a bark of a laugh at his frown. “Fine, fine, I was just kidding. Just call me Lin when we’re not in a professional set-up. We can’t have the rest of the public think I’m being undermined.”

Lin.

Hold up. Korra froze.

Beifong. Toph Beifong.

Korra wanted to slap herself, recalling the biographical pamphlets that one of the White Lotus members insisted she study back in the day.

Toph Beifong of the Gaoling Beifong family. The inventor of Metalbending had two daughters – one was the matriarch of the metal clan in Zaofu, Suyin Beifong and the other one was… Lin Beifong, current Chief of Police of the Republic City Police Department, head of the Metalbending Police, one of the partners of Earthen Fire refinery.

Lin Beifong who was currently tearing pieces of melon bread for her husband, the last Airbender, who was chatting casually about the types of food that the air acolytes purchased that morning for Korra’s polar bear dog.

Korra just blinked her blue eyes. So this was the mysterious Lady Lin, the last Airbender’s wife.

Lin Beifong, who despite being in her Metalbending police uniform, seemed to be quite comfortable at being a wife at home during dinner time, attentively listening with her husband about day-to-day household concerns.

Lin Beifong who offered to make Korra medicinal muscle-relaxing tea before bed to help her sleep.

It was a close call of looking almost like an idiot, Korra supposed, as she would have almost accused her airbending master of infidelity. This was why, the young Avatar figured as she took in the tea-drinking couple at the other side of the table, she needed to pay better attention to her history text.

----

Note: Sooo the plot ran away from me. So I’ll probably chop this into two posts; cutting it here for now. I hope this turned out okay; let me know if this is any good.

===

My related posts:

Prologue (Contentment) 

The Airbender’s Wife  2

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Ten: The One with the Phone Call

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 2700

If we're being honest, Lily Osborne's past was no different than most. She was raised in an upper-middle-class family. Her parents were renowned scientists who were credible in their field and brought home their findings. Other than her parent’s overly obsessive need to have everything recycled, there wasn't much about Lily that was interesting or stuck out. Nothing that she really believed to be interesting at least. Two loving parents, who were still married. Two younger siblings whom she loved dearly. A steady career and a lovely child. She was living the overused and overly generalized, 'American Dream'. the only slight oddity of Lily's life was how young she was when she had Hunter and the fact she was only mid-thirties and already divorced. But other than that...she was a basic, domestic, woman.

That's not how Bucky saw it though.

He found her astonishing. Admirable, even. The fact she was able to complete a Ph.D. level of education, graduating as valedictorian, at the top of her class, was enough to make his heart reach out to grab onto hers. But what really intrigued him, was her ability to be descriptive but vague all at the same time. She spoke about her divorce, but never the contents. Never diving deeper than the surface of it. How she gained primary custody, and that it was due to an affair. He learned everything, and nothing, all at once. He was only able to make a general picture of who Lily Osborne was, nothing more than the basics.

"Osborne, you said?" Bucky commented, shifting in his seat as he sipped on a beer that he held in his naturally warmed hand, "I feel like I've heard of the name Osborne in the environmental field before..."

The comment he made cause Lily's eyebrow to perk up. From the sound of it, Bucky had just admitted to being a bit of a science nerd. The fact he recognized the Osborne name just from Lily mentioning her parents. It was endearing, really. The fact he let that little tidbit of information slip out, not even realizing he had. Lily had made note of it, ensuring she remembered in case they were lucky enough to have a conversation like this again. Learning about one another, becoming more educated on their pasts.

But just like the supersoldier, Lily had secrets. Maybe not as extreme, but nonetheless, they were secrets. She wouldn't give him the full story of anything. Just the slightly important details. It was like a burger, sort of. She gave him the bun, but not the meat in the middle. If she was open and honest with him, that would open up a case of vulnerability. And though a talented doctor, Lily would not be able to cure it. It'd be the crack in her armour he could use to bring her down if he so wished.

"Probably from their discoveries about eco-friendly teddy bears. They still give me nightmares." Lily chuckled, sipping the ale that Bucky had given her. Though she had elected not to drink, the small voice in Lily's head convinced her that one beer wouldn't be too harmful. She wouldn't lose her morals just from a beer. She'd never been like that.

"Yes yes, I've seen Starks kid wandering around with one. They're terrifying," he replied, steel eyes reflecting the glow of the moon that provided them with the romantic ambiance that swirled around them. The whole scenery around them was more romantic than most of the dates Gen had set Lily up on in the past. It was genuine and natural, nothing forced or rushed to make it happen. But the demons inside of Lily's heart were screaming at her to run, get out of there while she still could. However, her feet stayed planted, and her butt sat in the lawn chair. She wasn't going anywhere.

Lily was still mortified of any sort of relationship. This wasn't one of those cheesy situations where the moment she met Bucky, her fears disappeared. That all of those years of emotional manipulation and toxicity had just vanished from her psyche. Lily hadn't changed because she met Bucky. The scars on her heart were still there, and just like her, had no intention of leaving. Sure, she was attracted to him. He was a fine specimen, had a voice that was as smooth as butter that created goosebumps on her arms. His presence brought a warm blanket of comfort that he would drape around her shoulders. But the pain still sat heavily on her shoulders. All of the damage Scott had caused to her mental state and self-image. They still stood, strong and sturdy. Lily was still Lily. The same girl who had been in a troublesome relationship and managed to emerge the other end. And that's all there was to it.

Change can happen. It's just not an immediate thing.

"You've mentioned that you've been through a divorce. How long ago was that?" Bucky inquired, his phrasing eluding the fact he wanted to know more. He had a hankering for the knowledge of Lily's past. To know what she's been through. What made her the shy and meek girl in front of him. What about her history created such a fragile state of mind, yet such a strong and independent visionary. A single mother, a full-time doctor, yet riddled with anxiety.

Bucky's trained eye could see the signs. The tapping of her fingers, the shortness of her breath. The way her collarbone heaved up and down at a faster pace whenever she spoke, or even when he asked her a personal question. How she never seemed to make eye contact with him. God, he wanted her to. He wanted to see those beautiful green eyes match with his. Memorize every detail of her face. The curve of her nose. the arch of her brow. Bucky wanted to render it into his mind, so he would never forget it. So he could always have the picture of those forest green eyes in his mind. The stories they held. The pain they kept locked away. But she never would long enough for him to capture their beauty. If Lily ever caught his eyes, she'd avert them within a millisecond. He'd watch as she'd turn her head, staring out into the sky.

"Four years ago. Seven years of marriage later." Lily answered after a few moments of pause. Her cheeks heated up in a red hue at the mention of her marriage. All of the pain she went through welling up in her throat as she attempted to wash it away with the beer in her hand. The words he would use were stitched into her skin, the things he would call her. She was a ragdoll in the eyes of Scott Harvey. He would take her lifeless body and sew in the worst of the English language onto her skin. It wore her down, the emotional trauma she suffered. But Lily came out on the other end, broken down and beaten sure, but still alive.

"And Hunters your only one?" Bucky inquired, studying the way that Lily fidgeted under his glance. It wasn't as if she was nervous around him, no. From the first time he met her, she seemed to relax around his presence. It was something about everyone that made her nervous. She was a survivor of something, on top of seemingly just always being a shy person. Introverted and hidden away. Add the emotional drainage she suffered all of those years, it made her a shell almost. Bucky was trained to catch small signals, the details others wouldn't care to look at. And all of Lily's body was littered with the little things, the way she breathed, to the way her cheeks always held a red hue.

Lily Osborne had piqued the interest of James Barnes. Not just in a romantic way, though that was a major factor. No, she had different layers to her. Different parts that all connected to create the woman that sat across from him. The way her eyes were slightly sunk in from years of work. Yet her hands seemed soft and velvety smooth, the hands of a mother. The way her arms always sat across her lower stomach, crossed in a way that hid that small part of her body. All signs leading towards insecurities, anxieties, a constant need to have a wall up. Not only did Lily create an opposing side of Bucky, but he saw himself in her. The part of himself that was locked away in a cell in the back of his mind. Constantly doubting, reminding him of the pain he caused. But she wore it on her sleeve, as though it had managed to free itself and take over her persona.

"Yes, he's my one and only. Something inside of me knew I wouldn't want another with my ex-husband, so I made sure measures were taken so there wouldn't be a chance of another until I was ready," Lily answered, crossing her legs and readjusting the dress in an attempt to cover the bit of thigh that she had revealed, "He's the only male I need...my son's everything to me."

Whenever Hunter is ever brought up in conversation, Lily's heart grew four sizes. He was truly the rock in her life that kept her tethered to reality. If he was gone, well Lily wouldn't know what to do. Having a child so early in her life was never something that the blonde had anticipated, nor wanted. She had a whole life plan ahead of her. Get her degree, get her Ph.D., find a husband, then start thinking about a family. Instead, she got pregnant, got a husband, then got a Ph.D. and her degree. The complete opposite of what she had originally planned for herself. Lily was far from ready to be a mother at the age of 22, but she knew she could never, ever, give up her child. So, miraculously, she made it work. Through hours of crying and yelling trips to Gen's and her parents, she did it. And managed to raise a happy, healthy, baby boy.

"There you two are!" a familiar voice rang after Lily had finished her inner monologue about the love she had for her son. Rose. And in tow, were a few of the Avengers and a quite inebriated Genevieve Fairchild, hanging loosely onto a seemingly amused Steve Rogers. As the group paraded around the two, Lily's younger sister spoke, "You lovebirds have been up here for an hour. Gen thought you died."

Lily let out a Gentle sigh before standing from the couch that you'd typically find on a porch, but it was on a roof and went to alleviate the Captain of her intoxicated best friend. Whom, Lily could only guess tried to drink Thor or somebody under a table. Another thing about the doctor’s best friend, she never backed away from a challenge. Even when it came to going head to head against a literal God when it came to drinking. It really sometimes surprised Lily that Gen had survived this long. But, if we're honest, it's because Lily had been babysitting her for close to twenty years. That's about the only reason.

"I take it back. I have two kids. This is Genevieve, she owns the cafe you guys go to," Lily smiled, wrapping her arm around her best friend’s waist and leaning Gen into her side, to keep her up. The last thing that Lily wanted was to have her best friend pass out in front of a cute guy, as well as the literal Avengers. That would just be embarrassing. Not to mention, Gen would have passed out and that would require a hospital visit, somewhere Gen hated for some reason that even Lily didn't know, "We should get her home. Thank you for hav-"

"Gotcha," Gen grinned while shoving her fingers into Lily's side, causing the blonde to jump. Untangling herself, Gen dropped herself down onto the couch while throwing herself into a giggle fit at Lily's surprised face. The others around chuckled softly at the practical joke, before Gen piped up, "Told you she'd fall for it, Rose. Every party we've ever been to it happens. And every time, Lily goes all mom mode on my ass."

A conversation erupted after Gen's comment, and Lily just shook her head and joined the brunette on the couch that sat parallel to the chair Bucky occupied. Both Lily and he seemed to stay silent as the group around them laughed and created a merry atmosphere. Instead, they snuck shy and reciprocated glances at one another, both erupting in a fit of blushes anytime they made eye contact. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, but instead of causing an uproar, the group just smiled at the two. They were like two school kids who had a crush on one another but were too shy to say anything. Stealing glances from across the classroom and having nervous conversations filled with short answers. It was endearing, yet aggravating.

Rose and Gen knew the damage that had been caused to Lily's perception of love. They were the two closest people to Lily, and were there for every step of the divorce, each tear, each time she screamed into a pillow, each time she shot one too many drinks in an effort to forget the pain that reverberated from her heart. The endless nights of Lily calling one of them in tears because Scott went out and had yet to come home. Or when he did, smelled of another woman. But Lily always, always, ignored the bright red sign that said he was no good for her. Rose and Gen were the two people in the world that knew Lily more than she knew herself. They saw the flowers that bloomed inside of her and the beauty that could rise from the ashes if she just allowed it. If Lily allowed herself happiness, they would witness the rebirth of her. See her smile for no reason again, dance around her house, and sing without the help of alcohol. God...her voice was angelic. But it had been ages since anyone had heard it.

Scott had stolen her voice. stole the one thing that really separated Lily from the pack. he kept it hidden as a token of the pain he had caused. a memento of the heart he had shattered with one hand while twisting a knife into Lily's back. he managed to keep it locked away for years, and Lily had grown weary and tired of fighting, and gave up. she stopped searching for the light inside of her he put out. she didn't believe it was possible for her candle of light to be lit once again. all because some son of a bitch decided to crush her life like she was nothing but a bug.

-----

The clock struck midnight, and Lily laid draped in Gen's arms on the same outdoor couch. Her best friend’s arm draped along her shoulder, a blanket that bruce had grabbed laying on top of them to keep the crisp September air at bay. Everyone was having a lovely time ignoring the party that raged down below them, that had slowly begun to dwindle down and grow quiet. Now, instead of booming music with deep bass, Lily's ears were filled with the laughter of her new friends that surrounded her as jokes and stories were exchanged. It was peaceful, and at that moment, Lily felt calm. Her palms were soft, with no sweat in sight. Her breathing was steady, and her mind stayed on one thought. There was no spiralling, no intense paranoia. just...peace.

Then her phone rang.

Hunter's contact popped up, and that calm heart rate skyrocketed in an instant. Not only was it an odd time to get a call from her son, but he was at Scott’s. if there was an issue, Hunter would go to Scott. This in itself sent that peaceful feeling that Lily had flying out the window. Throwing off the blanket, she slid her phone across the screen and stood, pushing herself up from the couch. Excusing herself off to the side, Lily's hands grew warm and clammy.

"Hunt? Baby, what's wrong?"

"Mama please come pick me up.”