#I’m just assumed to be like….7-10 years younger than what I am | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janaeekook · 4 years ago

Text

.Crimson lace.

pairing: bestfriend!seonghwa x reader (f)

warnings: dom!seonghwa, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids)

word count: 4.9k

The roads were winding, twisting through the expansive mountain scape around you, Small flakes of snow falling along the road. You were in the passenger seat of your best friends car, the radio softly playing some pop song that Seonghwa seemed to know word for word.

It was that time of year, Seonghwa's family and their annual trip to their cabin. The past years you and Seonghwa had gone up a day earlier than the rest of his family to take up all the supplies for the week and check that the generator still worked properly.

"So what movies are we going to watch tonight?" You asked, curious as to what we would do before his parents, aunts, uncles, siblings and cousins came up tomorrow.

"I'll leave that to you." He said glancing over to you from the drivers seat. You smiled widely, knowing which movies you'd pick for the movie night that had become a tradition.

The smile that masked your face didn't fade as you watched each dainty snowflake powder from the sky. It was exquisitely beautiful, the grey early January sky, the chill of the outdoors cut off by the cars heat and the warm starbucks coffee that warmed you from the inside.

You hummed tugging your legs into a crossed position in the seat, the paper cup still in your clutch. You inspected the glove box, nothing but crumpled napkins, registration and a small first aid kit.

"We're almost there." Seonghwa informed you.

"How did you-"

"You act like I haven't known you my whole life." He chuckled, "You get antsy after long car rides."

You chuckled, forgetting that Seonghwa was indeed your bestfriend, and had been for years. He knew practically everything about you, neither of you ever saw each other as more than bestfriends bound at the hip.

He'd seen you half naked, passed out drunk on the bathroom floor, three times through the notebook after your first breakup, and he was by your side through all of it. Nursing you to health, loving you when you thought no one would, and giving you endless support when your dad passed away.

His parents were the same growing up, knowing your mom was busy working overtime to pay the bills; you'd stay over, that was when you and Seonghwa really grew close, you sleeping on the floor of his dragon themed bedroom.

As your mind continued to reminisce, the car was pulling up to the large cabin, It was large enough to house all 17 of us with its 7 bedrooms. The parents and grandparents got their rooms, the younger kids shared rooms, the girls in one and boys in the other. But as you and Seonghwa got older you started sharing the last bedroom.

It wasn't weird for you, you'd been sharing a bedroom and bed with him since you were both 4. His relatives however always asked if the two of you were dating, and you'd laugh it off because to the two of you it was utterly ridiculous.

You stretched your tired limbs when you stepped from the warmth of Seonghwa's car into the brisk outside winter air, "We made it!" You exclaimed lightly in excitement.

Seonghwa's chuckle sounded warm enough to melt the falling snow all away, "Did you doubt we would?"

You shrugged, grabbing one of the many large boxes of food and supplies that were piled in the back of his car.

"You're a scary driver." You teased, feigning fright. He smacked your arm before grabbing a box as well.

"Excuse me I am a wonderful driver."

You giggled, stopping promptly as you reached the entry way, Seonghwa taking his keys and unlocking the large wooden door. You took a deep breath in as you stepped through the door, the cabin always had a distinct smell a mixture of sandalwood and crisp apple.

"Wait!" You gasped making Seonghwa who stood in the kitchen whip around to look at you in slight concern which quickly faded upon studying your face. Bright eyes and an excited smile as you continued to hold onto the box of food.

"What?" He couldn't contain the contagious smile that spread across his face.

"Can we make a fort for our movie night?"

"Let's get everything inside, and the generator going, first and then talk about the plan for the night, ok?" He said and you nodded quickly in agreement. He watched as you skipped back out the door, and he couldn't help the smile that drew at his lips.

Anyone watching them could see the love and adoration in his eyes, anyone and everyone, except you. Seonghwa had started to feel more for you, he loved you and he wanted you to know. But you were oblivious to the signs he'd been displaying the past 2 years. Sometimes he grew frustrated and just wanted to grab your face and kiss you— but at what cost? What if you didn't feel the same?

Well he knew you didn't, he was just your bestfriend and nothing more. He never tested that boundary for fear of losing you, he could never picture a life without you, it just didn't make sense.

"Hwa!" He was pulled from his thoughts by your voice, "Get out here and help me."

He chuckled, "Ya, ya." Following your words out the door

The generator rolled with a start, humming lightly. Seonghwa stood dusting off his hands as he stood from his previously squat position before leaving the small shed with a huff of satisfaction hurrying the short distance back to the insulated cabin.

"You got it?" You asked the second you heard him come through the door.

"Try the lights." he said, and so you did, the dark room quickly being illuminated by the warm light.

"Haha! Look at that!" You exclaimed, he always loved the excitement you got from the smallest things. Lights, electricity, something so simple and everyday and yet it brought you the upmost joy.

He wanted to tell you how cute you were, "Aww is someone afraid of the dark?" He joked instead.

"Very funny, If I recall correctly you were the one that just had to have his Spiderman night light plugged in."

He scoffed, "At least I don't cry at the sight of an insect."

"Arachnophobia is a very real thing, Seonghwa."

"Then I hope none are lurking around the cabin." He said in an attempted spooky voice, wiggling his fingers as he moved his arm toward you, which you proceeded to hit out of the way. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Jackass." You said, and he only replied with his melodic laugh, You threw a folded blanket at his chest, "Now help me with the fort."

You both threw blankets over the couch and propped them on various chairs from about the cabin. Purposely leaving the fluffiest and nicest blankets for the inside, where you also strung fairy lights randomly. It was as magical and cuddly-cozy-warm as ever. You climbed in wrapping yourself in a blanket then opened your laptop in front of you, Seonghwa joining with an armful of snacks.

You hummed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, "You know the way to my heart, Park."

"Its like I'm your bestfriend or something."

"Hm, so 10 Things I Hate About You, ya?"

"Whatever makes you happy." He said with a smile. That's all he wished, for you to be happy, and if sitting here with you in a makeshift fort of blankets and fairy lights, with snacks that were bad for you and cheesy hallmark movies, was what made you happy— then so be it. If you insisted, he would sit there all the days of his life with you.

He sighed lightly to himself, You've got it bad Seonghwa. He thought, though he knew, he'd known. Falling helplessly in love with his bestfriend, who saw him as just that, her bestfriend.

How truly infuriating it must be for him to see you look at others and not even consider him. Though that wasn't your fault. You didn't know. He wished you'd notice, but you still hadn't. It had been years, every holiday, coming up to the cabin— falling asleep next to the other.

He looked over to you, your eyes shut and lips parted slightly. It was unbelievable, you always insisted on a movie night but Seonghwa knew you'd be asleep by the end of the first. That's just how you worked; he studied your sleeping face with a smile, tuning out the movie. He thought you looked beautiful, truly.

Unconsciously you scooted toward Seonghwa's warmth. His lips forming a sad smile as he watched his sleeping bestfriend cuddle into his chest. You'd always been cuddly, ever since childhood— as if you had been starved of physical affection your entire life. So you'd always found reasons to hug him, or others and be close to them, not wishing them the same fate.

This is how he'd fallen in love with you. Why, he'd fallen in love with you. Simply for you and your heart.

Though he was still a teenage boy, and when he woke up in the middle of the night, that night, heart racing, skin damp with sweat and his boxers straining against him. He wanted to curse at himself, to ignore it and go back to sleep. But you moving in your sleep forced him to fight off a moan as your ass pressed against him unintentionally.

He nearly jumped off the floor and right up hurrying to the bathroom, where he shut and locked the door, before leaning against it. He looked at the clock that quietly ticked on the wall, 3:45 am. He sighed, annoyed then pulled his sweatpants down just enough to take himself into his hand, pumping himself as he searched for relief. And he did, cumming over his hand as he whispered your name.

The next morning you woke up, Seonghwa no longer next to you. You looked out of the fort finding him sitting on an uncovered part of the couch, eyes fixated on the TV.

"Seonghwa?" You croaked out, he turned to glance at you, his cheeks red but you assumed it was from the cold, "What's going on?" He didn't actually respond just turned up the volume on the TV.

Breaking: All roads on the highway north are closed after an unexpected snow storm dumped at least 5 feet of snow in the middle of the night, authorities are advising residents to be patient as they work to clear the roads.

"We're snowed in." He finally said.

"So- what does that mean about your family coming up?"

"They're not." His voice seemed strained, as if full of dread.

"Jeez, I can't be that awful to be around." You joked before stalking off into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

What you didn't know however was what truly was going through his head. This had to have been some twisted fate the universe had placed on him, working to test his strength in the process. How long could he hold out? How long could he restrain himself in these close quarters? Maybe it was the cold getting to his head, making him weaker.

"Do you want pancakes or waffles?" You asked from the kitchen, effectively knocking Seonghwa from his trance.

"Did you really just ask me that question?" He seemed borderline offended.

"Who else?" You snorted

"Waffles are 100 times better than pancakes, you know that." He stood walking into the kitchen and standing on the opposite side of the island.

"Excuse me? Pancakes are so much better than waffles, they're fluffy."

"But everything just spills off the top, waffles have indents to capture all of that flavor so you don't miss any of it. Plus pancakes are always raw in the center."

"Are not!" You turned around facing him fully now.

"Why'd you even ask me then if you like pancakes better."

"I don't know, maybe because I thought it was a simple question." You retaliated.

"Are we really fighting about pancakes and waffles?"

"Yes, now you can make your own breakfast."

"You're a pain in the ass." He said walking around the island and grabbing cereal from the cabinet.

"Dido." You said in a sing-song voice and smiled at him. He sighed, shaking his head at you with a smile across his own lips. This was what your friendship had always consisted of, joking play fights and comments. You were probably more comfortable around Seonghwa than your own family, partly because he felt like family to you. You threw a chocolate chip at him as he sat at the counter and you wondered in that moment what you would do without your bestfriend. The rest of the day passed at a snails pace, being snowed in only making you more aware of how seemingly little there was to do in the rather large cabin. You danced to music in the living room as Seonghwa laughed saying that you had 'not a single dancer bone in your body' to which you answered him by throwing a pillow at his head. That had led to a merciless pillow fight between you, which of course he ultimately won. Later in the day You sat, reading a book on the couch. You weren't exactly sure what the book was about, you had simply found it on the book shelf. It was interesting, interesting enough for you not to register that your bestfriend had entered the room again after having gone to change.

"Hey," He said, grabbing your attention, "I'm gonna go out, check the main roads. You gonna be ok?" Seonghwa asked pulling gloves onto his hands.

"Ya, I'll be fine." You smiled at him from the couch. When he walked out the door and you heard it close behind him you dropped the book, you needed to shower, and it'd just be easier if Seonghwa was out while you did.

You threw your hair in a bun as to keep it dry, stepping into the running water and washing your body. It was hot against your skin, and you sighed as your body relaxed. You took your time as the water ran over you. The past day had been a whirl-wind of surprises, with all the snow, we were able to call Seonghwa's family with the land line, but other than that there was no reception, No clear way to get home as the snow blocked the roads. The plows hadn't made it through the back roads. It wasn't too awful being stuck with Seonghwa-- if it was anyone other than your bestfriend you think you'd have pulled out all your hair already.

Though not having your alone time already had you cranky, you sighed, washing your body. Finally feeling clean you shut off the water and stepped out, standing on the small shower mat you looked into the mirror, You allowed your eyes to scan you body decorated with water droplets. You felt-- pretty, as if your insecurities had been washed away, and saw your body for what it was, you. You smiled lightly before grabbing a towel and drying your skin. You left the humid bathroom and went to the bedroom, kneeling in front of your suitcase in hopes of finding something comfortable to wear. Though when you flipped open the lid you saw the crimson lace. You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the thought of why you even packed the scandalous piece of thin fabric. What were you even hoping to accomplish?

You lifted the lingerie up, you bit your lip lightly, Seonghwa wasn't there it'll be fine if you wore if for a bit. right? You sighed again before you stood, dropping the towel, and letting it pool at your ankles. You pulled on the matching lace set, before looking over yourself in the full length mirror in the bedroom. It fit perfectly, and boy did it make your confidence soar. You felt empowered by your own body, beautiful. Any supposed imperfection, that prompted insecurities in your heart and mind, a mere reminder of how uniquely beautiful you were.

You weren't sure how long you stood there. But your heart stopped when the door was pushed open. Though you didn't yell, you didn't even move to cover yourself. No, you weren't frozen but deep down, you wanted him to see you-- even if you hadn't realized it.

"Hey, Y/n, the roads-" but he stopped mid-sentence when he was welcomed to the sight of you in next to nothing. His eyes seemed to cloud with a dark lust, you held your breath, he stepped closer, the tips of his fingers grabbed at one of the straps. His eyes fleeting over your body once more, as his fingers traced the crimson lace that covered your breast. His intense gaze met yours again when his hand fell away from your chest.

"What are you doing to me?" His voice a low whisper.

"You said you went to check the roads." Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, the way your bestfriends eyes ran over your body, drinking up each curve. It should have made you uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but feel desire creep into your thoughts.

"That was an hour ago."

"Oh." was all you could find in your mind to say. It was silent for a few beats before you decided to speak again, "Seonghwa."

"I need you to let me know if you're uncomfortable, because, I really don't want to hold back right now." You'd never heard Seonghwa sound so sultry before to someone, let alone yourself.

The whine that involuntarily slipped past your lips encouraged him to step forward and entrap your lips with his. It was a searing kiss, he pushed you back against the small desk that was behind you in the small bedroom.

You felt as the red lace of your panties pooled with arousal, your cheeks flushed, wondering how your childhood bestfriend made your body feel so uncontrollably hot, without even so much as a touch to your skin. He hiked you onto the small desk nudging your legs apart with his knee so he could stand between them.

"Was this your plan? Hm? Get me to lose control and fuck you?" His fingers traced your jaw hooking lightly under your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. His eyes held a hard questioning gaze, you tried to shake your head no but he held your chin in place, "Use your words."

"No- no hwa."

"No? You sure darling? You just happened to be wearing this?"

"Yes." Your tone was soft as your confidence, for the first time since you were children, wavered under his gaze.

The corner of his lip quirked up lightly, "Am I making you nervous darling?" His cocky tone oozing from each word.

"Seonghwa-" your voice breathy as you looked up into his eyes, his fingers moved over the wet patch on your red lace panties.

"That needy baby? Hm?" He asked when you whined.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Make me feel good."

Nothing more needed to be said as his lips were on yours again need and want burning between you. You'd never felt it before, you'd never wanted someone to touch you intimately so badly, especially not Seonghwa. But there was something forbidden about his touch that made your body hot with desire.

He got to his knees before you, his face now parallel with your cunt. He kissed over the thin fabric and your breath shuddered. He thought you looked beautiful, the red lace complimenting your skin tone perfectly.

"God you're perfect." And with that he pushed the barrier of fabric to the side running his tongue through your slick folds. The noises you made only further expressing how needy you really were, it felt wrongfully right. His mouth on you bringing you to the edge quicker than you imagined possible and it was just his tongue, he didn't need anything more to pleasure you.

"S-seonghwa-" your head lulled back in response to the overwhelming pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut, your ears tuning into the wet noises eliciting from between your legs.

Your head snapping back to the man between your legs when he pulled away. You whined with a solid pout on your lips having not finished.

"Not yet." Was all he said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He pulled you from the desk, his lips finding yours again as he pushed you back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He eased you down onto the plush mattress, your lips never separating.

Removing his clothes you felt his own hot skin against yours. Everything seeming to melt together, the lines of your friendship, your bodies as you pulled eachother closer— feeling your need grow tenfold as his hips grinded down on yours.

Voice breathy in your throat you managed to push his name out, "Seonghwa-"

"Mmm, you sound so pretty saying my name."

"Seonghwa, please." Your voice more stern now, you needed relief from the pulsing between your thighs.

"Begging now, are we?" He smirked as he teased you and you rolled your eyes, "Don't worry darling, I'll make you cum on my cock."

And in that he didn't lie, his lips peppering you neck and collarbones before wrapping around your lace covered nipples. Removing his own clothes eagerly, but he froze.

"Condom-"

"I'm on the pill, Hwa, please don't stop now." The desperation in your voice fueling his own need to be inside you. He craved to feel you warm around him.

Running the head of his cock over you folds caused his breath to catch in his throat, every late-night forbidden fantasy when he laid in his bed alone, dominant hand pumping himself to the thought of you. It was all about to become very real, a shaky moan leaving both your lips as he pressed into you. There was no going back after that, not as you came on him within minutes— no matter how much your head denied your want for him, your body couldn't.

Though when he came, soon after you, he didn't stop. You whined not because it was bad, but because the overstimulation burned in your stomach. It was intoxicating and Seonghwa continued to drill into you. Determination was clear on his face, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes met his.

"God, I can't get enough of you." He panted out. Each breath grew sharper as he worked himself to his second consecutive high.

You couldn't speak, your brain was far to hazy, only your moans of pleasure and your thoughts screaming his name. The slapping of skin, over the bed creaking beneath you, and your incessant noises— becoming deafeningly loud.

Though you weren't all too worried about about being too loud. The dense snow covered forest beyond the walls of this cabin hushing it all, "Seonghwa!" Had only been a mere whisper to the trees. What had just happened between you and your bestfriend? You couldnt really say-- and he couldnt either as you both tugged on your clothes again. Neither one of you having any clue how to start the conversation at large. Though Seonghwa's voice finally broke the silence.

"That was-" He paused searching for the right word to use.

"Really good." You finished for him, another lapse of silence passed.

"I'll just- go and start a fire." Seonghwa said before leaving the room.

"I'll make dinner." You spoke quicker than you normally would and rushed off to find solitude in the kitchen. In the privacy of your own minds you thought the same thing, What was that? And why did you want more? Though was there even more to ask for when you'd seemed to have done everything?

The two of you slept separately that night, not wanting to fall into the temptation of the others skin. At least not before you figured everything out. But as you laid alone in the bed, and he in the living room in front of the fire, all that either of you could think of was your bodies pressed snuggly to the others. How it felt to have him inside you, the feeling of his hot lips on your skin. It was loud in your thoughts, and every time you tried to push it down and settle your heart, It only got louder. Sleep did eventually come to you, albeit reluctantly. It was rather short lived, you waking up to Seonghwa shaking you awake.

"They cleared the roads, my mom said we should just head home." You nodded in understanding, before watching his back as he left the room, studying the way he moved. It was effortless, graceful. You shook your head, bringing you back to reality.

By the time you were ready, Seonghwa had already had the car fully packed. You could sense that he was eager to get back home and have time for himself to think, and you didn't blame him because you wanted the same thing. You didn't want to walk on egg shells and give each other the silent treatment any longer. Yes, you wanted to figure it all out and for things to go back to normal between you two. But you couldn't help the instinct to run and hide because the feelings in your heart scared you. You'd grown so comfortable knowing Seonghwa as your bestfriend, that you weren't sure of how to react to that security changing overnight. That, your bestfriend could be more than that of a bestfriend.

It was January and the start of the last semester of senior year. A week and a half since you'd slept with you bestfriend. Seonghwa had effectively been avoiding you and you weren't exactly searching for him either, you didn't know how to start that conversation.

'hey, I know we broke every rule in the book between us but, bestfriends still?' You knew it simply wouldn't be that easy. The things he said, the way he touched you, and made you feel. The emotions now a constant linger in your mind.

You couldn't just move on like it were nothing, because it wasn't nothing. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea but you couldn't help but think, that you wanted it again. More of him, if that were even possible. You'd never thought you'd think of Hwa that way, not in a million years. Though you didn't know how to face him. But not seeing and talking to him after being so vulnerable with each other made your heart ache.

It wasn't until he showed up at your door on that rainy Saturday afternoon, that you saw him. Your heart picking up in speed. His wet hair sticking to his forehead, had he always looked this good doing something so simple? Wearing something so simple? You were sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"We need to talk." He said, almost as if he was trying to convince himself, he continued as he stepped through the door, "I can't- we can't avoid this anymore. I'm sorry, y/n, I shouldn't have came onto you like that, god I should've known this would mess everything up."

"Seonghwa-"

"You were vulnerable and I let my feelings get the better of me," he hung his head, "Y/n I'm so sorry, and you don't have to forgive me."

"Seonghwa, I'm not mad at you." you said quickly so he wouldn't interrupt you again.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"Why are you?" You asked softly, trying to convey your thoughts, you sighed, "You're just as scared to face these feelings as I am."

His head snapped up and his eyes found yours for, what seemed to be, the first time since he'd been there. He searched your face for any sign that you weren't serious, he came up empty handed. Had you both been feeling this?

"You-?" His eyes continued to search yours, He had so many questions, When? Why him?

"-Love you." You finished his thought with a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His features visibly seemed to soften before he was kissing you again. You had longed for his lips to be on yours again since the moment they left, for you melted so easily into it.

He pulled back resting his forehead on your own, "I love you too." and he delved in for another kiss, before he quickly pulled back again, "Your mom."

His voice a low whisper with a tone of disappointment. But you only chuckled at him.

"She just left for her 72." You told him, and he smiled, already having plans for your alone time.

"Perfect."

You shook your head at his eagerness as he practically dragged you up the stairs to your room, "You know we'll have to tell our parents eventually right?"

"I know," He said, turning to face you once you were both in you bedroom, "But lets just enjoy this alone time." His palms held your cheeks as he kissed you with such passion it felt as if he'd taken your breath away, But you leaned into his warmth anyway before kicking your door shut with your heel.

As the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the rain poured harder outside, he showed you how much he loved you, he told you, and you fully welcomed the lingering emotions. You became his, in the twisted sheets, the loving kisses, in the noises that escaped from your swollen lips, and the baroque, Crimson Lace.

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

Text

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool

#Aaron Hotchner #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner imagine #Aaron Hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Aaron Hotchner smut #SSA Aaron Hotchner

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fallingfor-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Teachers Pet- Prologue

All chapters

Its your sixth year here at Beauxbatons, but your mother has just informed you that your parents are getting divorced and you will be leaving your dad, meaning you have to move and transfer to Hogwarts. You were finally starting to feel grown and now everything is changing, but unbeknownst to you, the lonely potions professor will capture your heart and hold it for many years to come.

A Severus Snape fan fiction.

A/n hello, welcome to my first harry potter story, i'm going to start by saying all my knowledge is from the movies, some things/timelines may not line up correctly/aren't completely accurate or not mentioned but its to go with the flow of the story! thank you and enjoy!

I continued packing and sorting through all my belongings in my room while listening to music, attempting to drown out the cries and yells coming from downstairs. My mother had just announced to my father that she was leaving him and taking me with her. He was going to be left with nothing but the house and his things, I was okay with that though, he was nothing slight of an asshole. I sat down staring at a picture of me and my older sister when we were little, sitting in the same dusty plaid green sofa that sat in my living room at this very moment. I sighed as I briskly wiped a single tear that slid down my cheek, not wanting to be seen, I knew that was silly and that it was me simply being human, but my parents never showed much emotion around me, and my father often mocked those who expressed them, calling them weak minded for grieving or even crying for that matter. And my mother would often leave the room the minute she felt anything other than joy or anger, but she never fooled anyone, we always knew she walked away to cry silently alone. I remember vividly the first time I saw my mother cry. I was 7 and her father had passed away a couple days prior and we all went for a walk downtown, there was a candlelight vigil for some random old guy, but he had died from the same thing that took my grandfather from her. He wasn't around much when she was younger and he never bothered to meet my sister or I but I knew she still held tightly on the fond memories of him from when she was a girl. She began to walk away and me being clueless followed her, it was then I saw her taking out a handkerchief and wiping a few stray tears away. I reached my little hand up and rested it on her shoulder and told her it's ok, but she shrugged it off and told me to go back with my dad and keep walking. That's when I learned to just leave her alone anytime she was upset. I had never seen my father cry in my entire life until a couple months ago when his father was then taken from him, and even then it was only a few tears at his funeral which were quickly whisked away and never to be seen again. It was no surprise though.

I didn't dare go downstairs at the moment I knew my presence would only make things worse. Even amidst all this chaos neither of them shed a tear, which led me to believe they never really cared for each other the way parents were supposed to. It hurt watching the family being broken apart but what hurt the most was leaving Beauxbatons. I had just begun my sixth year there and I was so excited, I was almost done, I loved this school it was perfect for a girl like me, and I was dreading moving schools, but when I found out I was enrolling in Hogwarts I did a lot of research which wasn't easy, luckily I knew someone who worked there, or shall I say ran the whole thing. Albus Dumbledore, also known as my godfather, I know it may seem weird for me to have ever attended Beauxbatons, but my sister went there and my mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, she wasn't happy about me transferring either, but she knew we needed to get far from my father.

I got up off my creaky bed and gently waved my wand in the air and finished packing everything up, setting the picture frame in last and closing my suitcases. I stood still for a moment thinking over all the memories I had in this house, I had lived here as long as I could remember and I was devastated to leave it. Especially in the care of my useless father. I tucked my h/c hair out of my face and behind my ear and muttered a spell which lifted my suitcases for me and began to quietly walk out of my room pausing in the doorway to listen for the muffled voices of my parents, I waited about three minutes and heard nothing assuming they either tired out from arguing or just got so mad they both stormed away. I turned to look into my room for one last time, admiring the homey feel it gave off, the light grey walls that I had just painted a year prior because I wanted a more "mature look" as opposed to the bright blue that had remained prior from when I was 10. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed the door behind me, walking down the rickety stairs that creaked with every step, my luggage following close behind. I ran my hand along the railing, taking in every chip and crack from many times sliding down them with my sister.

As I approached the living room I noticed my father lazily plopped on the couch looking over a newspaper, visibly tired from the arguing he had just got done doing. "Where's mother?'' I asked in a small tone, careful not to startle him. "She's loading her stuff into the car...did you know she was going to take that too?" he asked with a clear tone of anger. "No actually I didn't." I said smirking sarcastically and heading out the front door. "Hey" I said with a small smile as I approached the car. My mother was hurriedly loading her stuff in and asking me to do as many spells as I could to fit it all in the small car. She didn't answer as she continued loading stuff in. "Need any help?" I asked using the same spells on my luggage and putting it in the front seat where my feet would go. "No y/n right now I just need your father to not be a fucking asshole" she spoke in a harsh but obviously exhausted tone. "Ha well only in our dreams right '' I said laughing slightly trying to lighten the mood. She just ignored it and shut the trunk of the car with a loud slam. "Keep slamming shit and you won't have a car to take from me!" I heard my dad holler from the house. I turned and faced the door where his voice boomed from and looked back at my mom, "Anything else we need?" I asked politely. "No that's all now go say goodbye I'll be waiting here in the car." she said sternly and got into the car without a second thought starting it up and waiting. I quickly went up the steps into my home and walked into my fathers line of view. "We are leaving now." I said with my hands on my hips staring at him as he continued to read the paper. "Mm" was all he said, I continued to stand there staring him down. "Is there anything else you want to say before we go?" I asked my patience growing thin as he continued to read the paper, slowly flipping the pages of the thin material and ignoring my questions. "Okay , well If not I'm going to go, hopefully I don't get in an accident and DIE on the way there" I said sarcastically seeing if it would lead him to saying even a simple "goodbye". No answer. "Ok, bye father. I am sorry things aren't different." I said as I walked away, as I passed the mantle on the fireplace I noticed a picture my mother had conveniently left behind, it was a family photo from a trip we all took when I was about 13, I picked it up and looked at it closely. We all looked so happy, there was still light in my eyes and love in my parents'. I looked over my shoulder at my father seeing he still had his nose in the paper and I put the picture in my bag I had draped on my shoulder.

I heard my mom honking the horn and looked up at the open door, I looked one last time back at my father before heading out to the front, closing the door behind me and heading down the step. I climbed in the passenger seat and shut the door putting my bag in my lap and double checking I had my wand. I took the letter I had received from Dumbledore when he found out I was transferring and reviewed over the helpful words he had written to get me familiar with how things worked here. I studied the steps to get there and what to expect upon arrival. Since school had already started three weeks ago I knew I was going to have some catching up to do. I turned the paper over and muttered "aparecium" to myself to reveal the map of Hogwarts he put on the back so I wouldn't stick out like a first year who is lost and has no idea where anything is, even though I didn't have a clue.

" Are you excited?" my mother asked as we continued to drive to the train station. "Not particularly" I said looking out the window as we drove farther and farther away from the town I had spent my whole life in and grown to love. "I think you will find that you love Hogwarts, it's a lovely school according to Albus" she said, trying to get me to be more positive about the situation, but I just continued to stay silent. "Look y/n I know this is hard, it's not easy for me either, but this is a good thing, it's a new chapter for us, and you are going to meet so many new witches and wizards and you're going to make a lot of new memories!" she said looking over at me smiling. "I doubt it," I said trying to focus on anything else but the current situation. "Well I tried if you don't want to see this as a good thing fine, but I wasn't going to stick around with that dirt bag father of yours, I needed to make a choice on what's best for us." She said a hint of anger in her tone at my relentless and stubborn attitude. "I know I'm just sad," I said honestly as we approached the train station. I began to feel a nervous tickle in my chest, and not a good one, not only had I never gone through platform 9 ¾ but I had never even ridden a train. I mean it can't be too scary. Maybe it was the being alone part. "Ok we are here, are you ready?" my mother said parking and smiling at me. "Fuck no."

#severusnape #snape #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #slytherin #hogwarts #severusimagine #severus x reader #Snape slowburn #x reader #professor snape

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princesspiratecat · 3 years ago

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The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Finale Part 1: Fall 1085

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22

Part 23 & Part 24 & Part 25

Part 26 & Part 27 & Part 28

Part 29

It was a difficult year for the Allard siblings, bittersweet and disappointing. Although Frances had inherited the estate, he learned there was very little else left to keep it running, and even that money would soon run out. His brothers had been left only paltry sums in which to begin their own lives, and his sister Francine had only a small dowry settled upon her- far less than what Frédérique had gotten.

Marcelle had left absolutely nothing for Edyth, or his child with Edyth, Agnes. He had only bothered to write out instructions that she was to be educated alongside her half-siblings. Frances had been shocked at his carelessness and knew that he would need to settle something upon her at some point. Luckily, she was still quite young, so he had time to save.

Marcelle had invested far too much and had bought up additional lands without telling anyone of it, or even what he had planned to do with so much land. In fact, they now owned a vast swath of land outside of Grimsby, all the way up the coast and inland too. There was even a large, stately house about a mile away that had been left unfinished, in addition to the infamous hovel that Gwendolyn had lived in.

She had been painfully right about the hovel, it had been meant for her and her sisters.

Shameful.

Their own home itself had been neglected for quite a few years now, and some of the outer buildings were in a sad state of disrepair. Frances had had an idea that his father had been lax about everything, but he hadn’t known it was as bad as all this.

He immediately began to feel the burden of running an estate, and at times it overwhelmed him. He was ashamed that his wife often found him in moments of despair, as he had not wanted to show his weakness and inexperience to anyone. He was not the man his father was, and he blamed himself for that, without exploring why that might be. He felt incredibly guilty that he had been given so much, and his siblings so little.

At night, he came to his bride in their bed the first chance he got. Sometimes he said nothing and simply began caressing her body and undressing her. He let her know by the way he kissed her exactly what he needed from her without using words. She almost always obliged him, and he knew that she often expected he would come to her.

The longing to feel her arms around him, to be inside of her, and to connect with her on a tangible level simply overpowered him most days. He made a point of causing her to cry out in pleasure each night. He wanted to feel something else besides his own grief and emptiness for even just a moment. She reminded him that he was still alive and made him forget it all, until a new day dawned.

Other nights he simply laid down, wrapped his arms around her and was still. She stroked his head and held his hands in hers. The effort of speaking was needless. She knew what he wanted, as it had been just the same with her all those years ago. Only now, their roles were reversed, and she was the one to console him.

But tonight, he wanted to talk. He needed to confess.

“I am a weak man, Gwendolyn. I’m afraid you have married a very weak, inept man.”

“You are not a weak man. You simply have not allowed yourself the time needed to heal your own heart. Give yourself the freedom to grieve without placing too much burden upon yourself.”

“But I cannot leave it all unattended. My father has done that for too long.”

“I will run the estate as your mother taught me. She taught me far better than your father taught you. If you are not up to the tasks that come with maintaining a large estate, he is to blame for not preparing you. It is my home now just as much as it is yours. I will carry the burden for you until you are ready to do so yourself.”

As soon as she said it, he knew she spoke the truth and he felt a huge sense of easement. She was perfectly skilled and capable of doing everything that needed to be done, and now she was Mistress. It was time for him to step aside and let her take control as she was meant to.

“You must look after your family now,” she said gently. “They need you, just as much as you need me.”

She was right in that as well. His younger siblings had been neglected by their father and alienated by Edyth. They were often alone and had been made to feel like strangers in their own home. So he started to remedy that by arranging for them all to visit their sister at Barton, where they would take a much needed fishing trip together. He would try to be the big brother they needed him to be- especially Fabien.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first thing Gwendolyn did after they left was to clean house, both literally and figurately, and Edyth would be the first to feel the change.

She used what little money they had to hire workers from the Boarding House to finish the smaller house, which she named Cherry Hill. Then she banished Edith and Agnes to it. It had been a rather ugly shouting match because Edyth insisted she had a right to live at the main house, but Gwendolyn was having none of it.

“If you wanted to stay you should not have made everyone here your enemy. This is my house now, and you will leave. Go!”

Had she been privy to the role Edyth had had to play in her own exile, or that Agnes was not Marcelle’s child, things would not have turned out the way they did. But for the sake of Agnes, Gwendolyn tread as lightly as she could while still asserting her authority. They would be very comfortable at Cherry Hill, far more comfortable than Edyth deserved to be.

After they were gone there was still much to be done, and part of a thorough cleaning meant organizing and going through all of the belongings of Marcelle’s in the Lord’s bedroom. She wanted things in order, as it would now be their bedroom, and she hated the memory she had of it when she had last seen him alive.

After a few days Gwendolyn had nearly everything in order, but there was one large wooden box that had been hidden away under the bed a servant had found while cleaning. It looked vaguely mysterious, and she had hoped that it would contain a large stash of jewelry or treasure.

No such luck. Inside, there were multiple letters dated from the year 1063, just a few years before the bastard King William had invaded England. It was written on very expensive parchment paper in Latin. Gwendolyn had never seen such paper. In fact, paper was a rarity outside of the church. Her father could not read and even if he could, paper had been way beyond his means.

Gwendolyn had been taught Latin by Aélgarda, but still struggled with it. As far as she could tell, it had something to do with...time...a journey.... and love? Perhaps brushing up on her Latin was in order when she had some time to herself. Frances would be back in a matter of days, and he was excellent with Latin and would be able to translate the letters quickly.

Until then, she turned her eye to more domestic matters, and arranged for the purchase of additional horses for breeding. Horses were an expensive luxury in these parts because they had to be shipped from afar to the River Trader. Gwendolyn had an idea of breeding horses and selling them, which would fetch a nice price in the long term. She also purchased additional fruit trees and began work on having the pasture enlarged. The more improvements she could make, the more income the estate would bring in come harvest time.

As soon as Frances got back she gave him the letters and had him translate them. The first one was written as such:

My Dearest Love,

I was so happy to see you again at our feast last night. These stolen moments we have together are so precious to me, you cannot know how much I look forward to them. I know you are going away on the morrow, and I pray that you will come back to me safely. I hope my love and this letter will warm you from afar. With all my Love, Aélgarda

At first, they both assumed that the letters had been written to Marcelle, and Gwendolyn thought about the softer, sentimental side of him. He must have really loved his wife, despite all the things he had recently said about her. But as Frances read the other letters, they realized they were not to Marcelle at all, but to a young solider that had served Aélgarda’s father dutifully. The more he read, the more they pieced together that he was a young and handsome Welshman, and eventually came to the conclusion that his name had been... Llywelyn.

To Be Continued in Part 2!

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 pictures #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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derekfoxwit · 3 years ago

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Doctor Dorpden’s Critical Tips of Prestige

Note: This post was made with satirical intentions in mind. I’m only emphasizing because I’ve had a couple of comments on previous joke posts I’ve did take it seriously. With that said, here we go.

Tip 1: For starters, remember that when looking at the work, if the Mystic Knee twitches fast enough to punch a hole in a wall, this suggests that the work should be near the lowest of the low. No further development of opinion is needed.

Tip 2: For an equal degree of sophistication, give the warm comfort of nostalgia at least 5 times more chances than the new thing that MAY seem actually poggers.

Tip 3: If you have the anecdote of encountering shitty fans, then use them as a scapegoat for the show they flaunt over being shitty. Clearly, they’re always making the show the way it is.

Tip 4: If you haven’t heard much about a newer film or show you’re yet to watch, there’s an 85% chance that film or show is actually not worth your time. The Father (2020) isn’t as widespread as Joker (2019) for a reason.

Tip 5: At this point, just go for the Asian Artist Dick. I’m actually in the mood to see merit in that because I want to look edgy against cute doodles. Stop attacking Uzaki-Chan, you cowards!

Tip 6: Avoid the electronic tunes. They’ll make you smell like a bum, for there’s no structural in a music album that’s nothing but wubs.

Tip 7: If you see a Tweet that looks dumb, use it as a means of generalizing all the fans of a work as sharing that same opinion.

Tip 8: If the cartoon I’m given doesn’t provide me with mature ideas such as slicing an Arbok in half or fake boobs, then the cartoon might as well be on the same level as Teletubbies.

Tip 9: You know the music is (c)rap when it brings up drugs, regardless of lyrical context.

Tip 10: Raw mood is the indicator of quality cartooning. If you’re quick to assume the worst in the newest HBO Max original cartoon, then you got thyself a stinker. Same thing if you were super bummed out when watching a new thing, regardless of anecdotal context.

Tip 11: When you’re not given continuous throwbacks, ensure you’re as reductive and over-generalizing about the works shown as possible.

Tip 12: If your hazy and imperfect as hell recollection of a children’s film, whether it’s Wall-E or Lilo & Stitch, would describe said film as “too sugary” or “key-waving schlock”, then that HAS to be the case. No meat on that bone whatsoever.

Tip 13: Simpler, more graphic style that isn’t as realistic as old-school Disney or Anime? You got yourself a lazy style with zero passion put into it.

UPA? Who’s THAT?!

Tip 14: Don’t trust anyone saying that western children’s cartoons had any form of artistic development after 2008 (with, like, TWO exceptions). If it did, why didn’t we go from stealing organs in a 2001 cartoon to showing opened stomachs in a 2021 cartoon?

Tip 15: Big booba is always important to the strong female character’s quality.

Tip 16: Only MY ships count, for they provide me with a feeling of intelligence.

Tip 17: “PG-13″ and “R” rating just simply mean you’re not caring for expressing themes in a sophisticated manner. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 18: In this age of smelly radicals, “Death of the Author” is more important than ever. Without it, this’ll imply that a classic like The Matrix was secretly toxic, due to what the Wachowskis have to say about it being an “allegory of trans people.”

Tip 19: Turn the fandoms you hate into your torture porn. Ask in Tweets to Retweet one sentence that’d “trigger” them. Go out of your way to paint all of them as blind consoomers. That’ll show them, and it’ll show how much more intelligent you are compared to those clowns.

Tip 20: Whatever the Mystic Knee dictates upon the first viewing of a work is what shall indicate the full structural extent of the film.

Tip 21: The mindset of a 2000s edgelord is one that actually understands the artistry of the medium of animation. Listen to that crazy but ingenious man.

Tip 22: Because sheer ambition makes me feel manly, the high pedestal you bestow upon a cartoon work should be based mostly on the mere mention or mere suggestion of serious topics. This means that pure comedy is smelly.

Tip 23: Is the new work tackling subjects that you’ve loved a childhood work of yours for covering? Just assume it’s super bare-bones in that case compared to the older case, for there’s nothing the older work can do to truly prove itself otherwise. Seriously, Letterboxd. Stop giving any 2010s cartoon anything above a 4/5

Tip 24: If the Mystic Knee is suggesting that the work is crummy, then consider any explanation off the top of your head for why the work in question is crummy.

Tip 25: Sexual and gender identity is inherently political, so don’t focus on them in the story. It’s no wonder why Full Metal Alchemist has caught on more than the She-Ra reboot.

Tip 26: Since I got bothered by a random butt monkey type character in a crummy cartoon, I’m now obligated to assume that having a butt monkey will only harm the writing integrity of the cartoon.

Seriously, Mr. Enter....what?!

Tip 27: We’re at a point where pure comedy for a kids’ cartoon is doing nothing but dumbing down the children. Like seriously...... I doubt Billy and Mandy would ever use farts as a punchline, unlike these newer kids comedies.

Tip 28: The difference between the innuendo in kids’ cartoons I grew up on and the ones Zootopia made is the sense of prestige they give me. Just take notes from the former instead.

Tip 29: Wanna make a work of artistic merit? Just take notes from the stuff I whore out to. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 30: Always remember this golden rule: If the newer work, or a work you’ve recently experienced the first time, was truly great, why isn’t it providing the exact emotions from your younger, more impressionable years?

Tip 31: If the Mystic Knee aims to break the bones of a character doing certain things (.i.e. having body count of thousands; lashing out to character; etc.), that means the character is bad and deserves no redemption.

Tip 32: If you want me to believe there’s any intrigue or depth in your antagonist, give them redemption, for I am in need of that sorta thing being spelled out. Looking at you, Syndrome. Should’ve taken notes from Tai Lung.

Tip 33: In a case where you’re going “X > Y” (.i.e. manga compared to western comics), ALWAYS CHERRY PICK! Use the recent controversies of the “Y” item while pretending that the “X” item has never had anything of the sort.

Tip 34: BEFORE you bring up those comments that shat on the original Teen Titans cartoon back when it was new, whether for making Starfire “more PC” or whatever.......the DIFFERENCE between them and me is that THEY were just bad faith fools that couldn’t see true majesty out of blind rage. I, however, am truly certain that calling any western TV cartoon from 2014-onward a work that transcends its generation suggests a destruction of the medium.

Tip 35: Based on fandom growth, it shows that any newer show isn’t being watched much by kids, but rather loser adults that act like children. Therefore, there’s more prestige in what I grew with.

Tip 36: The focus on children is bad at this point since the children of today have attention spans that flies would have.

Tip 37: A select few screenshots (or even one) of either a less elaborate attacking animation, less realistic game graphics, or a less on-model image in a cartoon indicates EVERYTHING about the work’s quality.

Tip 38: Consuming or writing media where characters go through constant suffering is little more than gaining pleasure out of it. YOU SICKOS!

Looking at you, Lily Orchard!

Tip 39: Whether it’s a sexual awakening story or just simply a romance, focus on a character being lesbian, trans, bi, etc., then it shouldn’t be in a kids’ work. It’s too spicy for them by default. Kids don’t want romance anyway.

Tip 40: The very idea of a western cartoon with no full-blown antagonist (i.e. Inside Out) is a destruction of animated artistry. Sorry, but it’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 41: Unless it’s my fluffy pillow, such as Disney’s Robin Hood, it should be obligated to assume the inserting of anthros is only there to pleasure the furries. Looking at YOU, Zootopia!

Tip 42: With how rough and rash The Beast was, it shows that he was more of an abusive lover. Therefore, I refuse to believe that Beauty and the Beast has any of the meticulous moral writing that most of Disney’s other 90s films has.

Tip 43: When you suggest one work should’ve “taken notes” from another work in order to do better, BE VAGUE! Those who agree will be shown to be geniuses.

Tip 44: Remember how morally grey Invader Zim was? That really goes to show how little the Western Animation scene has been trying since that show. Really should just be taking notes from that series (and of course anime).

Tip 45: Even if I have a radar that clearly indicates such, hiding the item I look for inside an enemy is always bad, for I refuse to believe it would be inside the enemy.

Goddamn it, Arin!

Tip 46: People struggle understanding your gender identity or pronouns? All there is to see in that is a giant cloud of egotism that reads “My problems” zapping another smaller cloud that reads “other people’s problems”. Seriously, kids are starving, so WHAT if you identity confused someone. Grow a spine!

Tip 47: Stop pretending that adaptations should colorize how a story or comic series should be defined. No way in FUCK can a cartoon or film incarnation become the definitive portrayal of my precious superhero idol.

Tip 48: Enough with your precious “limited animation” techniques, YOU WESTERN HACKS! All you’re doing is admitting to sheer laziness and lacking artistic integrity. Now if you excuse me, I’ll be watching more anime, since that gives me a sense of prestige.

Tip 49: If getting five times more detail than the 2D animated visuals have requires someone getting hurt, so be it. No pain, no gain after all.

Tip 50: Yes, I genuinely struggle to believe there’s this majestic level of layered material without having the most immediate yet still vague re-assurance practically yelling in my face. But that’s STILL the work’s fault, not mine.

Tip 51: Every Klasky-Csupo cartoon has more artistic integrity than any of them cartoons with gay lovers such as Kipo or the Netflix She-Ra show.

Tip 52: If Sergio Pablos’ Klaus is anything to go by, we have no excuse to utilize those smelly as fuck digital animation “styles” found on Stinky Universe, Suck-Ra or Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turds.

Tip 53: Stop projecting your orientation onto works of actual talent. Seriously, how does Elton John’s I’m Still Standing expel ANY rainbow flag energy?

Tip 54: Hip hop and electronica have been the destruction of music, especially the kind that’s actually organic and not farting on the buttons of a beeping or drumming gadget.

Tip 55: The audience for cartoons has become significantly less clear over the years. We should just go back to Saturday mornings of being sold toys or shit kids actually want.

Tip 56: PSAs for kids shouldn’t be about ‘woke’ content. They should be actual problems such as doing drugs; not playing with knifes / outlets / matches; or acceptance.

Tip 57: The instant you realize a detail in a childhood work that’s better understood as an adult, you’re forced to paint that work as the most transcendent thing in the world. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 58: Before you lash out on ALL rich people, remember this: #Not All Rich People.

Tip 59: There’s nothing to gain out of the (c)rap scene other than becoming a spiteful, gun-wielding thug that sniffs weed for breakfast.

Tip 60: Since the Mystic Knee told me to get anal about prom episodes in several gay cartoons, this shows that writing about one’s younger experiences just makes you look pathetic.

Tip 61: Another smelly thing about Zootopia is how it was painting a police chief as stern and exclusive. #Not All Chiefs

Tip 62: Me catching a glimpse of Grave of the Fireflies as a kid and turning out fine shows that you may as well show kids more adult works without worry. No amount of psychological questions being asked will suggest otherwise.

Tip 63: There’s a reason why the Mystic Knee keeps leaning more toward the 90s and early 2000s than most decades. That knee KNOWS where there’s a sense of true refinement.

Tip 64: The BIG difference between rock and electronica? Steward Copeland actually DRUMS. All that the likes of Burial, Boards of Canada, Depeche Mode and several others did was push drum buttons.

Tip 65: One exception to the golden nostalgia is when the work in question doesn’t stuff your face with fantastical, bombastic stories. At which point, there can only be rose-colored blinds covering Nickelodeon’s Doug. Nothing of merit or personal resonance to be found.

Tip 66: Remember that the sense of nuance in the work comes down to there being everything including the kitchen sink, whether it involves multiple geographic landscapes; giving us hundreds of characters; etc. Only through the extremes will I be able to tell there is nuance.

Tip 67: Once you see a joke that has an involvement with sexual or violent content, just ignore the full picture and just reduce it to having nothing to it but “sex, violence, gimme claps.”

PKRussel has entered the chat

Tip 68: With all the SJWs messing up the art of comedy, lament the times where you could be called a comic genius, NOT a monster, for shouting out the word “STAB,” calling a gay weird, painting Middle Easterns as inherently violent, etc.

Tip 69: Guitar twang will always win out over (c)rap beats. There’s a reason your grandma is more likely to listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd than Kendrick Lamar.

Tip 70: Once the Mystic Knee notices a lack of squealing at the video game with linearity, that shows there’s more artistry in going full-blown open world.

Tip 71: Related to Tips 66 and 68, ensure your comedy gets as much information and mileage out of each individual skit as possible. EMPHASIZE if you need to. Continuously spout out your quirky phrase of “STAB” if needed.

Tip 72: Based on the onslaught of TV shows with many seasons and episodes, animated or otherwise, it shows that there’s more worth going for that than simply having a miniseries or a 26-episode anime.

Tip 73: Building off of the previous tip, you’re better off squeezing and exhausting every little detail and notable characterization rather than keeping anything simple and possibly leaving a stone unturned, especially if there’s supposed to be a story.

Tip 74: Playing through the fan translation of Mother 3 made me realize how much some newer kids’ works just try too hard to get serious. Why even make the kids potentially think about the death of a family member?

Tip 75: The fear I had over Sid’s toys from the first Toy Story and similar anecdotal emotions are the be-all indicators of what kind of show or film is fitting for the children.

Tip 76: Seeing this British rapper chick have a song titled “Point and Kill” just further exemplifies the fears I’ve had about rappers being some of the most harmful folks ever.

Tip 77: The problem with attempting to make a more “relatable” She-Ra is that kids aren’t looking for relatability. They want the escapism of buff fighters or something similar. This is why slice-of-life is so smelly.

Tip 78: Based on seeing the rating of “PG-13″ or “R,” I can tell that the dark humor is little more than “hur dur sex and guns.” Given the “TV-Y7 FV” rating of Invader Zim, the writers should’ve taken notes from that instead just so I can sense actual prestige.

Tip 79: The original He-Man has more visual intrigue in its animation than any of those smelly glorified doodles found in the “styles" of the 2010s and early 2020s.

Tip 80: It’s always the fault of the game that my first guess (that I refuse to divert from) on how I have to go through an obstacle won’t work.

Tip 81: Zootopia discussing prejudice ruins the majestic escapism I got from my precious childhood films from 1991-2004. Them kids might as well be watching the news. Now to watch some Hunchback after I finish these tips.

Tip 82: There is no such thing as an unreasonable expectation, and there’s especially no wrong way to address the lack of met expectations! For example, if you expect some early 2010s cartoon on the Disney Channel to be a Kids X-Files, yet you get moments such as some girl getting high on stick dipping candy, you got the right to paint the worst out of that show for not being “Kids’ X-Files.”

Tip 83: Related to my example for Tip 82, if you get the slightest impression of something being childish, you know you got yourself a children’s work that does little than wave keys and has basically nothing substantial for them. In this situation, those malfunctioning robots found in Wall-E are the guilty party.

Tip 84: Without the extensive dialogue that I’m used to getting, how can one say for certain there was any amount of characterization in the title character of Wall-E?

Tip 85: Ever noticed yourself gradually being less likely to expect an upcoming work or view a work you’re just consuming as “the next best thing”? That’s ALWAYS the fault of smelly “artists” (hacks really) and their refusal to give a shit.

Tip 86: It’s obligatory for your lead to be explicitly heroic just so there is this immediate re-assurance that they’re a good one.

Tip 87: Without the comforting safety net of throwbacks, one cannot be for certain that there has been an actual evolution of a series or the art of animation and video games.

Tip 88: Don’t PSA kids on stuff they give zero fucks about. That means no gender identities or pronouns, race, etc.

Tip 89: Don’t listen to Mamoru Hosoda saying that anime women tend to be “depicted through a lens” of sexual desire. He’s just distracting from the superior prestige found in anime women.

Tip 90: If you’re desperate to let others know that your talking points are reasonable, just repeat them over and over with little expansion on said talking points.

Tip 91: 7 or more seasons of art is better than 26 episodes of art. EVERY TIME!

Tip 92: Always remember to continuously talk up the innuendo and mature subject matter of the childhood work as the most prestigious, transcendent thing of all time. With that in mind, there’s a high chance that your favorite childhood work will be better known than Perfect Blue (1997), and there’s likely a reason for that.

Tip 93: An art style that gives many characters relatively more realistic arm muscle details will always shine through more than any sort of art style done for “simplicity” (laziness, really).

Tip 94: Seeing a few (like, even VERY FEW) people show more enthusiasm for Steven Universe over Invader Zim really shows the lower bar that has been expected out of the western animation scene compared to anime.

Tip 95: Electronic music makes less conventional time signatures cheap as hell. REAL music like rock makes them the exact opposite.

Tip 96: If your Mystic Knee suggests that the 90s cartoon being viewed doesn’t showcase a vague sense of refinement or artistic integrity, then every related assumption of yours is right. EVERY TIME!

Tip 97: Doing everything and the kitchen sink for one series or movie shows a better sense of refinement and prestige than any form of simplicity. THIS includes character design as well.

Tip 98: The advent of that Star Wars: Visions anime really shows just how stinky western cartoons have become.

Tip 99: For those wondering, no, Europe isn’t being counted in my definition of “western animation”. Doing so is a complete disservice to prestige.

Tip 100: If even less than half of these tips aren’t being considered, you can kiss that prestige badge goodbye. After all, I SAID SO!

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aegialia · 3 years ago

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self-indulgent reflection on being on tumblr

so i recently hit 1000 followers on here and this blog has existed for almost exactly 8 years, so i wanted to ramble about tumblr and my experience of it for awhile. under the cut so definitely feel free to ignore this.

i started this blog right around when i was fourteen and had just started high school. at that point, i was out to my parents (and no one else) as bi, i had an inkling i was Struggling with something but i had no idea what and felt like i couldnt actually acknowledge it, and i had left leaning but very vague politics. tumblr definitely has shaped my journey around sexuality/gender/mental health/politics, both for good and for ill.

for good:

seeing other ppl talk about being lesbians helped me realize i could be a lesbian w/o being a traitor to the concept of bisexuality. hearing trans ppl talk about their experiences and explaining non-binary stuff and dysphoria helped me understand what i was going through

i don’t like talking about my mental health stuff in detail on here, but suffice to say, i was Going Through it in high school. i’m still going through it now, but i am in a much better place (thank you medication and 7 years of therapy!). seeing ppl talk about the weird, dumb, awful parts of mental illness let me acknowledge that i was going through those things too, that i wasnt like evil for feeling like that, that i could change. people talking about adhd/autism was particularly helpful---being able to identify why i’d always felt like my brain just didn’t work right is the first step in the (ongoing) process of not hating myself for the way my brain works

politics is definitely the area where i think tumblr was the best for me. i got exposed to so many opinions i definitely wasn’t hearing in school, from intelligent, well-read people who could articulate theory in ways i could understand. tumblr didn’t give me my politics and i didn’t learn everything i know about theory from it, but the communities of people i was around pointed me in the right directions. tumblr was also a good place to learn how to react to criticism. this doesn’t seem to be most people’s experience, but getting called out over minor things on tumblr genuinely helped me learn how to take a step back, look at my behavior, apologize, and try to change, which, as it turns out, is a helpful skill irl as well

for ill:

wrt sexuality and gender, it’s probably pretty obvious someone who’s journey is ‘cis bi girl -> cis with a million different microlabels -> nb w a million different microlabels for both sexuality and gender -> nb butch lesbian who’s not super into romance’ would have some bad times on tumblr. the bi circles i was in made being a lesbian seem like an immoral choice, the ‘’’mogai’’’ (or whatever u wanna call them) circles made me feel like i had to divy up and perfectly label every aspect of myself in a way that really wasn’t helpful for me, the lesbian circles i was in made me feel like being a lesbian was about ending up in a monogamous butch/femme cottagecore relationship and that there was something wrong with me for not really wanting that. to be clear i think microlabels can be very helpful for people/a monogamous butch/femme relationship is a perfectly fine thing to want, they just didn’t work for me. im very very glad ive reached a point in my life where i dont feel the need to stay up to date on the latest discourse and am more focused on finding a way to exist that is comfortable for me and supporting my community irl. 10/10 would recommend to everyone

not going to get deep into it, but social media is. not good for my brain in general. i still enjoy using tumblr, but these days im pretty careful to step back from it frequently and treat it as an occasional hobby.

the cons of political stuff on tumblr are probably also very obvious. there are some just awful discussions on here and the culture surrounding the way we handle bad behavior and justice and accountability and working to become a better person and make up for the harm you’ve caused has historically been fucking awful and trying to unlearn it and find new ways to engage with this stuff is exhausting.

for all that i’ve changed over the course of having this blog, this blog has stayed pretty fucking static. i started out being super into diana wynne jones and the iliad and those are still two of my biggest interests and things i talk about the most on here. there are definitely specific things that have petered away (i started this blog almost entirely to keep up with good omens fan stuff and i pretty much haven’t touched it since the miniseries came out, i haven’t sought out pacific rim/supernatural/elementary/mcu content in years), but im still pretty much interested in the same things. i like relatively small fandoms, i like weird side characters, i like to be a grumpy child playing with my toys in the corner. when a fandom im in gets popular, i tend to stop engaging with it entirely (hello rqg/tma/good omens/enola holmes!). i dont think its a pretentious ‘i liked it before it was cool’ thing so much as a ‘people get Weird and awful when a fandom hits a certain level of popularity and there’s too much content and i really, really hate the bad faith arguments larger fandoms tend to spawn’ thing. i’ll consume content from big fandoms, but i pretty much refuse to actually engage with them at this point.

one of the stranger parts of my experience of tumblr is the social side. i’ve never really known how people make friends online---how do you go from liking each other’s posts and occasionally replying to them to actually being friends who communicate off social media? i’ve had conversations with ppl on tumblr and i’ve had sort-of friendships that are contained to tumblr where i’d like to get to know them better, but i’ve never figured out how to do that. my best friend’s job is pretty much to make friends/connections on the internet (she’s an activist and artist), my dad knows people everywhere in the world from twitter, and i’m just sitting here like a little old grandpa who doesn’t understand how you can have internet friends.

at this point in my life, i’m fine with this, but this has made me feel real fucking bad in the past---like, if everyone online, even the ppl who say they’re weird and brainbad in a similar way to me, can make friends on the internet, what’s wrong with me? particularly in high school and my first year of college, when i was just horribly lonely all the time, it made me feel super disconnected and like there was something fundamentally bad about me. these days, i’m a lot chiller about it. i use social media to engage with stuff i enjoy and share my thoughts about it. it’s okay that my social difficulties extend to me not knowing how to use the internet to socialize.

on a somewhat related topic, it’s wild that i have 1000 followers. obviously, that’s not an actually super large number and a huge number of them are probably bots or inactive. if you post consistently for eight years and follow lots of people, like i do, it’s not a surprise to end up with this many followers. it is also, thankfully, the sort of followers that are not fans. probably most ppl following this blog dont remember why they followed and dont know anything about me or my interests. this sounds like its meant to be depressing but it’s not. i like that my way of engaging w the internet lets me do pretty much whatever i want and no one will care. the mere concept of being. like. tumblr famous in any capacity, even just in one community/fandom, is viscerally horrifying to me.

i really enjoy the space i’ve created for myself on here. on one hand, going back through my blog is obviously embarrassing and full of hating my past self. on the other hand, i now have a very nice collection of things i enjoy in this blog. i like seeing what i’ve been interested in and (when i’m in a good mental health place) i like to be able to remember how i thought and talked about the things i loved when i was younger. im not at the place in my life where i can love a younger version of myself, but sometimes i can laugh at zir with a level of fondness.

i’ve always been paranoid about sharing details about my life on here (and the fact that my parents have always been able to see it certainly contributed), so the version of jack on here is a carefully curated version, who’s super enthusiastic about the things they love, was very conscientious about apologizing and trying to do better when ze messed up, and tried to be polite to others. that’s a younger version of myself that i’m closer to being able to have compassion for than the version i find in essays and poems and memories.

i’m starting grad school in ten days and i’m still using the blog i started when i began high school. tumblr has helped me in a lot of ways and hurt me in a lot of ways, but i still have to admit that it’s been a significant factor in shaping me. i’d be incredibly embarrassed to admit that irl, but it’s true. other than my family and like one friend, this blog is one of the only things that’s ‘known’ me since i started high school. i’ve changed so much in that time and im glad to have this weird little record of myself throughout those changes, even if i’d probably warn my younger self away from tumblr if i could go back in time.

tl;dr i have had a mixed experience on tumblr and i have mixed feelings about that experience. no idea if anyone read any of this very long, very rambling internet memoir

p.s. fun facts about this blog:

i’ve never changed my icon or blog title

i recently got a second version of the poster i got my blog title from. i chose my blog title by looking at what was hanging on the wall directly in front of me.

my original url was gloomthkin. this was not, as you’d probably assume, an otherkin thing. i had literally no idea what otherkin was at that point. i’d just learned the word gloomth from a bill bryson book and thought it would be cool n edgy to be the child of the quality of gloom. i changed my url after i learned what otherkin was and realized everyone probably assumed something about me that wasn’t true which i hated (not bc i had an issue w otherkin, just bc i don’t like ppl thinking untrue things about me)

during my good omens days, i once sent a tumblr ask to nail guyman which, in retrospect, was kinda rude. i stand by the content but id never send an ask like that now. he replied to it privately in a way that so deeply embarrassed and shamed 15 year old me that i’ve never gotten over it. i still get nervous and embarrassed when i see anything about him or his books

#gloomth and circumstance #this is definitely not required reading!#i just felt like rambling for a very long time about my feelings and my blog #w bonus blog trivia at the bottom that amuses me and probably no one else

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unweavinglies · 4 years ago

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Gonta Gokuhara Character Analysis: When a Genius is Treated like a Child

So a quick disclaimer: Yes, I am very aware that this is most likely not canon, or at least not what the writers intended on being canon, nor am I saying that this is 100% canon and should be considered as such. This is just a fan theory/analysis I came up with for my own enjoyment and wanted to share with others, as I like coming up with theories/analysis posts and reworking canons to make enhanced stories and character development in my perspective. I firmly believe that the idea of making theories isn’t supposed to be a shouting contest to see which opinion is the most loud and correct, but should be something to share with others and find acceptance and understanding in different interpretations, even if you don’t agree with them.

Well, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?

I’ve been talking about wanting to do this analysis for months now to various friends and acquaintances, but I’ve only had the motivation to do as such recently, after writing a short story that dived deeper into Gonta’s mindset over the Mercy Killing Plot he and Kokichi attempted to carry out. Regardless of that, however, Gonta has been one of my favorite characters for quite some time, and I really feel like his character arc and the unfortunate tragedy behind the unintentional mistreatment of Gonta via his classmates.

So without further adieu, let’s talk about that--about what happens when a genius is treated like a child.

Warning, this does discuss some rather unfortunate topics, such as ableism, depression/self loathing, and the concept of mercy killing. Viewer discretion is advised.

The first thing we need to elaborate on, is why I am calling Gonta a “genius.” Gonta has shown difficulty in understanding simple concepts, and struggles to follow along complicated plots, such as we see in his Salmon Mode Event where he mentions that he cannot follow the plot of high fantasy stories because they tend to be so complicated. He even refers to himself as not very smart, tragically enough.

However, not is all what it seems for Gonta, as his intellect is a matter of fact, and not just an analysis, and the game’s introduction of him opens up this fact to the player in a round about way that may or may not be so subtle.

Gonta admits here that he was a wild child, lost in the forest for ten years. While the logistics are... questionable, this is a work of fiction, thus I will suspend some disbelief. Gonta being lost in the forest for ten years means that he was probably about 5-8 years old when he was lost, depending on how old he is in the game.

Touching upon this briefly, studies of wild children, specifically referencing this case here, have an extremely hard time readjusting and learning to human language, customs, and interaction. The younger a child is upon becoming a wild child and the longer they are in the wild, the less likely they will be able to learn language and certain social behaviors and skills. While it is not impossible, the likelihood of Gonta being 15 or 16 in the game is very low, and even impossible once I elaborate, and we can safely assume that with the context of him being a wild child, he is probably at least 17 years old. So a safe assumption is that Gonta was lost in the forest when he was about 7.

(Note: I am very well aware of Gonta’s potential forest family not being wolves, and instead the reptites, but these creatures Gonta speaks of very well be his own imagination spiking from the isolation from humanity, or be something else entirely. Gonta makes several references to video game characters as well, claiming he met them in real life, so I consider it highly unlikely that “reptites” are an exception to this. Either way, it won’t matter if you believe otherwise, just that it may change certain aspects of what I’m about to say in regarding education and the sort.)

What’s the point of this elaboration? Well, quite a lot, once you remember that Gonta is the Ultimate Entomologist.

Firstly, there is the fact that Gonta is a high school student at all. Gonta was lost at a very young age--it would be impossible for him to be, since not only had he spent 10 years int he wild, but he also had to rejoin human society, relearn human language and customs, and then be put back into formal education. If Gonta is still a teenager and not over 21, then Gonta would have to cram in a decade’s worth of formal education into a few months, or a few years, at most.

This makes Gonta a literal prodigy.

Had Gonta not been isolated from humanity for a decade, Gonta would have been a child prodigy, a literal genius with an intellect that couldn’t be so easily matched. Having the capacity to learn advance mathematics, language (although in the English version, he is struggling with speak (speaking with the infamous “caveman” speech pattern) scientific methods, all of it within such a short amount of time proves that Gonta is, without a shred of doubt, a genius.

Even if you take the aforementioned reptites into account, it only makes Gonta’s accomplishments slightly less impressive, depending on your interpretation of what the reptites actually are. This is because Gonta still had to engage with formal education, and even in the best case scenario where the reptites were fully advanced beings with a civilization and education (which I quite doubt, if they were, then why not give Gonta back to the human race when he was still a child? Why not guide him back to his kind? Why keep him? Even if they were afraid of humanity, it would be far, far worse for the humans to find them while looking for their lost son... I digress.) Gonta still had to learn Japan’s education. Their history, their language, their social customs--and then, Gonta had to learn how to be an entomologist.

You need to go to college to be an entomologist.

According to this website here, the basic, bare bones higher education one needs in order to apply for certain positions related to entomology is a bachelor’s degree, with most positions and places requiring a doctoral decree. There are, of course, youth clubs for students under eighteen, but from my understanding, in order to be considered an entomologist, you need a college degree.

Gonta is a high school student.

For him to be considered an Ultimate Entomologist, Gonta would have to have taken college courses and gotten some kind of degree in order to be recognized as such. Thus, Gonta is still learning a higher education within a short period of time that is incredible for any human being his age, whether it be as drastic as him having no sort of education while living in the wild, or living with the reptites.

Either way, it is safe to say that Gonta is very intelligent, whether or not he is potentially a prodigy for it.

However, this has very unfortunate implications of the way Gonta is treated by his peers in the game.

Not only does Tsumugi here reenforce that idea in everyone else’s mind...

She blatantly tells Gonta that he was being manipulated and or “tricked” into abducting everyone...

When, in actuality, not only did Gonta know exactly what he was doing:

Kokichi even elaborated on his plans quite explicitly to Gonta:

And earlier on, the rest of the class had been treating him differently than they treat one another, sort of like he was a young child they needed to guide.

For example;

Kirumi assumes Gonta is not very aware that hitting someone with such an object is dangerous... despite him being a peer to his classmates and a young man.

And when Gonta has a pretty valid concern;

He is instructed against it and/or ignored on the subject:

Even Kaede slips up a little;

And during the investigation...

Himiko is 100% convinced here that Gonta is the culprit, to the point where she is trying to trick him with this kind of phrasing.

“Are you not, not the culprit?” equates to “Are you the culprit?”

“Are you not, not, not the culprit?” equates to... I believe it would be “Are you not the culprit?”

And that’s the thing:

Like how even I was confused and unsure about the triple ‘nots’ of Himiko’s statement, Gonta is too. Very reasonably so, actually--it’s extremely awkward phrasing purposefully meant to manipulate Gonta into saying he’s the culprit of Rantaro’s murder, and it takes Kaito and Himiko to realize that it was them causing the problem when Kaede called them out on such.

And again, after Gonta explains his actions during the murder, he gets very frustrated;

Already, we are seeing the effects piling up, leading to a frustrated, angry outburst.

And by far, one of the worst examples of this sort of unintentional ableism is this:

And Himiko even just... flat out does this:

By “dumbing down” the explanation of right and left, and not noticing that Gonta is left handed, she caused him to accidentally switch the wires on the headset, causing the memory error and making this entire trial all the more worse for him. By treating him like a child, like the theme of this trial, she only made things worse for him.

And that’s the problem.

Despite Gonta trying to tell everyone that he has no idea what they’re even talking about, everyone just assumes he “can’t understand the Virtual World” and brushes him off. Again and again, Gonta was treated like a child and brushed off, and this time, it came with a heavy consequence.

These instances of “guiding” Gonta are subtle, and on their own, aren’t much to address as anything more than suggestions or words of caution. However, there is a very clear theme of “we have to tell Gonta what he should do” that starts in Chapter 1 and continues on until the end of Chapter 4. They’re unintentionally telling him that Gonta needs to be guided and needs to be reminded of pretty obvious and basic knowledge, and worst of all, that he can’t be trusted to think for himself and thus needs someone to tell him how to think and feel.

If it was one or two times, that would be a whole other story. However, these instances pile up, higher and higher throughout the entire span of Gonta’s time in the Killing Game, and the majority of the class ends up dismissing or ignoring Gonta’s concerns.

This sparks a growing desire to prove himself, to prove that he can be useful during the trials. To prove to his peers that he can do something on his own, think for himself, decide for himself, except even until his final moments;

Even after Gonta’s Alter Ego telling himself and everyone explicitly that he was not tricked into killing Miu...

... No one listens.

Instead of listening to Gonta, over and over, they continue to brush him off and treat him like a child they had to care for, and yet no one stopped to consider that Gonta is a young man. An intelligent, young man who’s socially awkward, but never the less, a peer to them. Yet they didn’t treat him like a peer, and in the end...

Gonta died thinking he was an idiot. A child. A burden who made everything worse for everyone else. They all considered him as a child, and that’s how they saw him even in his final moments.

Gonta throughout the game constantly tries to prove himself, but no one is paying attention. When he learned of the Secret of the Outside World, Gonta didn’t even have anyone else to turn to for help or comfort. His feelings of uselessness compounded by the desperation to prove himself as an equal to everyone else drove him to agreeing to mercy kill the rest of the group... because how else was a stupid, burden of a child supposed to help anyone as he was? Even though he knew killing was wrong, with Kokichi’s plan, he was able to do something “for everyone,” and even that compounded into the ultimate failure.

It’s an unfortunate reality, because had the class treated him as a fellow classmate and peer, this might have been preventable.

Either way, what do you think? Was discussing the unintentional class ableism in depth towards Gonta a bit... too much? I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever done such a post, so you’ll have to forgive me. It’s also been quite a while since I made a proper analysis, hasn’t it? I must be a little rusty...

I will say--please, do not use this post for any discourse regarding the ableism and what have you if you choose to agree with this interpretation. I will not stand for it.

Either way, I hope you at least found this post to be food for thought. See you all next time.

#gonta gokuhara #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa #analysis #theory #character analysis #ableism mention tw #self hatred mention tw

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years ago

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Bad Manners (S2, E5)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:35 - Martin totally thought John Watkins abducted and killed Ainsley. Mark my words.

0:44 - Holy. Shit. Ainsley is FIVE years old (or younger) here right? A five year old with that much determination?!?! She literally stayed silent in that clock for probably hours......and no one was concerned about this kid when Martin was arrested because...?

1:09 - Anyone else impressed with Malcolm’s aim here? Just me?

1:20 - Gil and Malcolm talking about sleep and murder is so freaking sweet. <3 Honestly, they’re acting like friends instead of co-workers and it warms my cold dead heart.

1:29 - Does Gil become a grumpy old man when he doesn’t get 8 hours sleep? I really want to know now.

1:39 - OMG. Gil pointing at Ainsley here is hilarious. He’s totally acting like some weird mix of a stern pissed off high-school teacher, and a step-dad trying to discipline an unruly teen. hahaha AND MALCOLM’S FACE. Look how done Malcolm is. He looks so so tired, sad, and exasperated.

1:44 - Wow. Girl power. Ainsley has those camera guys bending to her will. I honestly would’ve thought they would just read the situation and turn the camera off themselves.

1:47 - “It’s not a game.” Yikes. I have thoughts about this:

Malcolm is right - it’s not a game.

Malcolm is a bit of a hypocrite for saying that to Ainsley. Although, to his credit even when Malcolm is excited/inappropriately happy about murder it’s always pretty clear that he thinks murder is wrong, and that he has sympathy for the victims and their families.

Ainsley does not have that same sympathy for the victims. That much is clear later in this episode.

Pretty sure the writers are trying to turn Ainsley into a serial killer this season.

2:13 - “You know I like to share these things with my friends.” .....does this mean Malcolm thinks Dani and JT are his friends now? Last I checked (Ep 1x05) Malcolm didn’t have friends. This absolutely melts my heart. <3 I’m honestly so happy that Malcolm considers someone other than Gil to be his friend.

2:18 - “We lost Dani to vice.” .....What is vice? AND WHAT IS THE REAL LIFE REASON THAT DANI WASN’T IN THIS EPISODE?!?

2:19 - Edrisa has a medical degree right? She has to know how dangerous consuming that much caffeine is right? Plus aren’t energy drinks super dangerous if you drink a lot of them (or maybe that’s just what adults in my neighbourhood told kids)?

2:30 - Edrisa SHINES in this episode. She’s so funny and awkward and I just love her.

2:36 - hahaha Gil has adopted the whole team. Look at him throwing the “Dad warning stare” at Edrisa.

3:31 - Why does Edrisa start bouncing around looking upset when Malcolm says, “rejection is a powerful motivator”?!?! Has she recently been broken up with or something? Is this a reference to how she has a crush on Malcolm (who doesn’t reciprocate)? I WANT MORE INFORMATION.

3:47 - TWIZZLERS!!! <3 Damn I love how this tiny detail about Malcolm’s character keeps coming up.

3:55 - Ainsley is on a rampage this episode. She’s so determined ...actually she’s acting a lot like Jessica (think girl in the box bracelet). However, unlike Jessica, Ainsley’s motives aren’t about justice or the safety of her loved ones. Ainsley is chasing personal gain (career) with a side of (a subconscious?) need to be exposed to murder and her father’s twisted world.

4:05 - This whole interaction between Ainsley and Malcolm is really interesting. Ainsley is knowingly manipulating Malcolm to get the answers she wants. We’ve seen her do it in 2x4 and 1x19. She knows her big brother would do anything for her. It makes sense, they’re five years apart and after the trauma they experienced as children Malcolm felt responsible to protect Ainsley. He never wants to disappoint Ainsley. Not a burden he should’ve had to deal with but I digress. PLUS Malcolm looks weary of Ainsley here. He knows what she’s doing. He’s scared that she’s turning to the dark side. But he still gives her the answers because if he doesn’t - that means something has changed. He thinks that would make Ainsley suspicious and then she might remember what happened to Endicott. He’s scared of and for Ainsley.

4:32 - OKAY. I’ll say it. The thing that annoys me the most about this episode is that it suggests that Ainsley was a debutant when in 1x6 AINSLEY TELLS MARTIN SHE WAS NEVER A DEBUTANT. She went to etiquette school - I guess that doesn’t strictly mean she also did debutant balls but it sort of suggests it in the context of this episode? Did she actually graduate from the etiquette school (there was bullying, maybe she was expelled/dropped out similar to Malcolm and Remington?)?

4:59 - “No stabbies” OMG. How is this show not classified as a comedy?!? Istg I laugh harder watching this ‘drama’ then I do watching most of the shows that call themselves ‘comedies’.

5:35 - It’s honestly kind of amazing that Ainsley and Malcolm are as ‘sane’ as they are. They were raised by a stubborn predatory psychopath and a stubborn rich meddling socialite. They had no chance of normalcy. Look at the amount of pleasure Martin is currently getting by throwing his son under the bus with regards to Jessica.

5:45 - “No actually, I cleaned it up.”.....does this have a dual meaning? Did Martin do something to make Malcolm dispose of the body? We already know that Martin has tried some sort of conditioning on Malcolm (remember ‘C’mon boy!’ from 1x14? The stabbing?). What if Martin said some sort of trigger word to control Malcolm and coerced Malcolm into getting rid of the body? What if this isn’t the first time?

6:05 - Ainsley is a sociopath. I’m calling it again. I called it when I first watched Q&A (1x7) because the way she treated Malcolm was more than just selfish/careless. It was cruel and she didn’t feel any remorse for literally broadcasting her brother’s private health details on television. That is messed up. I honestly won’t be shocked if the writers make Ainsley a full blown serial killers (although I’m not sure I want that because I don’t know how Malcolm would remain the main character if the story goes in that direction?).

6:12 - Poor Jessica. I honestly feel really bad for her. Sure, she’s a headstrong alcohol dependant crazy rich woman. She also has a good heart. She’s been dealt a pretty shitty hand when it comes to relationships (minus Gil but she ruined that because she’s a MORON) and now she’s terrified that her own children have become monsters and she blames herself. She definitely hasn’t been a perfect mother but I don’t think she’s to blame for Ainsley and Malcolm’s obsession with murder. If these kids had a different bio dad, they would probably just have a low-key drug problem or some other common rich kid baggage.

6:15 - “You know that’s not how cancer works right?” LOL. hahahaha

6:33 - Martin kind of has a point. There’s no rehab for murder. That’s why he’s been in jail for 20 years and he still wants to kill people. In my opinion, given what we’ve seen of Ainsley’s personality: as soon as she fully remembers that night - she’s gone. She’ll go full serial killer and Jessica and Malcolm will lose her forever.

6:40 - Jessica’s little jazz hand finger twinkle as she spins on her heel and leaves Martin kills me. It’s so extra. It’s so funny. And it’s sooo Jessica.

6:47 - Damn. Martin is pissed. I’m worried. That’s murder-level rage. If he escapes ISTG Martin is going to try and kill Gil. For so many reasons 1) because he hates Gil, 2) it’ll hurt Jessica, and 3) killing Gil will eliminate his ‘Dad’ competition.

6:54 - Edrisa on caffeine is AMAZING.

7:43 - I love Edrisa but her blatant, unreciprocated crush on Malcolm is honestly getting a little creepy.

7:52 - Gil spent all last season drinking out of a Yankee’s mug. Doesn’t that mean he’s a baseball fan? Why doesn’t he know this pitcher guy?

7:56 - hahahaa “Where is JT?” Because obviously JT is the team sports fan.

8:22 - Does Gil get nightmares about cases? He always seems really uncomfortable around the dead bodies.

8:45 - “And suddenly I’m wide awake” SERIOUSLY - is anyone else laughing every 60 seconds when they watch this show? Is my sense of humour just super dark and messed up?

8:54 - YES. The liquorice is BACK.

9:00 - I love Malcolm talking to JT about his obsession with candy. I love how Malcolm doesn’t even hesitate before giving JT an honest answer. Malcolm is acting like JT’s annoying little brother and I am here for it. One thing I did notice though - Malcolm specifically mentions candy+dopamine but doesn’t mention his depression/anxiety. Processed sugar can be a short-term (unhealthy) way to boost your mood. It’s why some people eat their feelings. I really want more backstory about Malcolm with the lollipops and licorice though.

9:19 - “But you didn’t do anything wrong.” Awwww Malcolm is so soft here. I love how much he genuinely cares about JT. <3 I love how JT is comfortable enough with Malcolm to give him an honest answer. <3 THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS GONE THROUGH SUCH A GLOW UP. <3

9:32 - “Like toy dolls?” hahaha the way Malcolm perked up here. All I could think was “SQUIRREL!” hahaha.

9:41 - Malcolm is doing better than he has been the past few episodes? I mean he’s still suffering and he’s still in a terrible mental state. BUT he also seems happier? IDK maybe he’s just entered the more manic nervous energy stage of his emotions as opposed to the depressed and scared stage.

9:49 - “Deep childhood trauma”. So we’re looking for a debutant killer with childhood trauma who is chasing perfection? Debutant = rich lady culture. Like Ainsley. AND Ainsley went to the same etiquette school as the first two victims. The writer’s wanted us to assume the killer was Ainsley for the first 15 mins of this episode right? I’m not the only one seeing it?

10:04 - “My sister went there too.” ....why is there something super attractive about the way that line was delivered?

10:08 - I’m so done with this absolute tom foolery. Why does the team keep splitting up into two teams - where one team is JUST MALCOLM. The one who is unarmed and technically a civilian?!? This makes no logical sense to me (except for plot).

10:25 - Was Martin just about to say, “Just like the old days”?!? Is Martin referring to Endicott? OR is Martin referring to something that Malcolm’s repressed from his childhood?

10:30 - “I always root for the bad guys.” .....finally some truth from Martin.

10:40 - Soooooo I guess Mr. David doesn’t know? I promise you Mr. David has suspicions though. How could he not?!?!

11:24 - “It was brutal for Ains.” Look at how sad Malcolm is! Ugh. This hurts so much. He clearly loves his sister so so much and what she’s done is slowly killing him. I honestly think that part of the reason Malcolm helped Ainsley dispose of the body is that Malcolm doesn’t want to loose his sister. His sister is one of the only good things he’s always been able to count on. If word gets around that she’s a killer - Malcolm’s fragile world gets shattered a little more and I don’t know if Malcolm can recover mentally from that.

11:36 - “Teasing made her capable of...stuff.” C’MON. There’s no way Mr. David doesn’t know.

11:45 - Sooo is Martin saying that he recognized that Ainsley was a sociopath when she was a small child? Or did she just respond to his (or John Watkins’) grooming much ‘better’ than Malcolm?

11:56 - “Because she’s her mother’s” Okay. So I see the point. I can see that Ainsley is driven and stubborn like Jessica. BUT it feels like Martin is suggesting that Jessica is capable of murder? Which - I honestly don’t think she is. If anything - Malcolm is more like Jessica than Ainsley is.

11:59 - There was a look in Martin’s eyes when he was comparing Ainsley to Jessica that really freaked me out. I can’t figure out why. It makes me wonder if Martin still somehow views Jessica as ‘his possession’ (he refers to her as his wife all the time but I always assumed that was just to get a rise out of people?). Martin’s dream from 2x4 certainly suggests that he still wants Jessica romantically. I honestly think he’s going to try to escape and rekindle the romance with Jess; and it’s going to go very poorly when Jessica rejects him.

12:06 - Preach JT. Preach. This is creepy af.

13:00 - Ugh. Of course this creep has a history of indecent exposure. Now I understand why Gil and JT were hostile with the dude right from the start.

13:12 - Man. People will use the Bible to justify anything. No wonder people hate Christians ( I say this as a practicing Christian).

13:18 - JT is such a good dude. I’m so glad he’s a dad now. <3 He’s going to be such a good one. <3

13:26 - “One phone call and this place will be shut down.” OH SHIT. GIL THAT IS VICIOUS AND I RESPECT THE SHIT OUT OF IT.

13:35 - I soooo thought that dude was going to sprint out of that room.

14:30 - THIS. YES. This is why I have a problem with Ainsley’s enthusiasm for murder vs. Malcolm’s. Ainsley’s enthusiasm is centred on her nee to ‘get the story’. She’s obsessed with forwarding her career and as a result she’s treating crime like a competitive sport. Malcolm’s obsession (while it can border on creepy and reckless) is always centred on his need to find the killer and stop the murders. Malcolm is seeking justice and his heart is in the right place. I can’t say the same for Ainsley.

14:31 - “We’re brother and sister, everything is a competitive sport”.....whoever wrote this doesn’t have a sibling they experienced trauma with as a kid (and as a result was raised by a single parent). Seriously, my dad was abusive he lived with us until I was 10 and my brother was 7. Then my parents got divorced and my mom was a single parent (he didn’t pay child support or see his kids after the divorce). Are my brother and I competitive? Sure sometimes. But the way we grew up forced us to become partners. Annoyed with Mom? Let’s rant about it together. Is he struggling in math? I’ll tutor him in exchange for a Reese cup. Am I struggling at daycare because I have massive social anxiety? He’ll include me in whatever he’s doing so I’m not sitting alone in a corner. My point: siblings who experience trauma together don’t have the typical sibling relationships that are widely televised in North America. There’s a lot less fighting and competition and a lot more teaming up and commiserating.

14:39 - “It. It’s terrible.” - Notice how Ainsley didn’t actually say how it made her feel? She gave the standard “TV response” to a murder “a terrible/horrific/tragedy has occurred”. She doesn’t feel bad that these women are dead. She’s too consumed with getting a story to even stop and let herself feel anything. I’ve been saying it since last season - the way Ainsley shows no regard for other people and their feelings when she’s obsessed with her job is concerning.

14:50 - “Remind me of the people who cut us off after Dad’s arrest.” ...Are you kidding me?!? The whole fandom has been speculating about this since early season one and they’re not going to elaborate on that line?!? I’m going to need some more information about this and it better be in the upcoming episode where Jessica’s younger sister appears.

15:40 - She thinks of her students as family? Sooo what does she think of Ainsley? Wasn’t Ainsley bullied at this school? Did she do anything about it?

16:00 - this is like a ‘weekend/evening school’ right? Kids aren’t living in this house like a boarding school/summer camp?

16:01 - “Mr. Whitly” UGH. This bitch preaches etiquette and she doesn’t even have the common courtesy to call Malcolm by the name with which he introduced himself? Nah. I don’t like her.

16:13 - Ugh. Ainsley, seriously? Why don’t you help your brother solve the case. AND PREVENT MORE MURDERS. Why are you indirectly but purposely obstructing justice?

16:37 - “Of course.” Huh. Do you think Martin might try and manipulate Ainsley into killing Malcolm? Ainsley definitely capable of it. She doesn’t actually seem to care about Malcolm nearly as much as he cares about her.

17:17 - WTF?!? That’s creepy af. How did no one in this show think this assistant was a suspect? She has a super creepy doll that she ‘forgot’ on the floor the middle of a hallway. AND THE DOLL WAS STANDING UP. Not sitting, not dropped carelessly, STANDING UP.

17:30 - Look at Malcolm’s face. He’s definitely going to be having nightmares about that doll.

18:25 - OMG. This was amazing. JT just totally bulldozed his way into catching that dude. Very badass. Also kind of funny (maybe that’s just my messed up sense of humour again?).

18:44 - Ugh. This dude has a thing for dolls. I don’t want to kink shame but - no. no. There’s something really gross about that.

18:48 - I’ve seen some people say that this doll looks like Ainsley and how that’s supposed to be some sort of foreshadowing/symbolism. I kind of see it? I mean the hair colour is similar and if you pause the screen at 18:48 the angle kind of looks like Ainsley? It would be an interesting metaphor though - Ainsley played with dolls as a little girl. John Watkins gave her angel statues. She is Watkins’ and Martin’s doll’ in the sense that she was the object that murders manipulated/groomed.

18:53 - Then again, pause the screen here and there’s something about the facial structure that looks like Dani to me.

19:00 - Jessica lets Ainsley work in the murder office?!? No. No she doesn’t. This is garbage. Jessica would’ve forbade it. Jessica would’ve bordered up this room immediately after Watkins.

19:57 - Poor Jessica. She’s clearly terrified that she’s losing Ainsley and terrified of Ainsley. BUT Jess, sweetie, running to Europe won’t fix this.

20:16 - “She wanted the dolls to look like her students.” AND PEOPLE SEND THEIR CHILDREN TO HER?!? WTF?!? NO. NO. NO. NOT OKAY.

20:31 - HAHA look at Gil’s face when Trevor tells him he can make the ‘perfect woman’. Gil’s like WTF - can I arrest you for thinking you can fabricate a ‘perfect woman’?!!?

21:06 - Malcolm is having so much fun playing with Trevor’s doll head. Look at how excited he is. It’s kind of adorable but his manic energy is showing which is concerning.

21:10 - Why is Trevor giving his doll fancy 1940s(ish) names?

21:31 - Props to LDP. I honestly believed Gil was annoyed with Malcolm for barging in on the interrogation the first time I watched this.

21:42 - “They got a word for everything.” hahaha OMG. This is so reminiscent of a teenager explaining some new tech to their tech-illiterate parents.

22:00 - I can’t tell if Gil feels sorry for this creep or if he just thinks the dude is really gross. Probably a mixture.

23:00 - Oh we’re bringing up the chloroform again. At least Malcolm knows not listen to Martin about this nonsense.

23:25 - “It doesn’t feel fun.” - THIS. This is why I honestly don’t think Malcolm will ever become a serial killer. His guilt complex is just too big.

23:56 - Are. You. Kidding. Me? This is next level. Ainsley is so out of line here. AND SHE SHOWS NO REMORSE. SHE DOESN’T THINK SHE’S DONE ANYTHING WRONG. THIS GIRL HAS GONE DARK SIDE (she was already halfway there).

24:17 - I’m getting papa!Gil vibes when Gil is talking to Ainsley and I want more scenes of them interacting. Seriously, did Gil have a relationship with Ainsley when she was a kid? I MUST KNOW.

24:45 - Ainsley has no conscience. I honestly don’t think Ainsley has a conscience.

25:00 - “Who is that!?” Malcolm is totally acting like he’s Ainsley’s father-figure right now. I’m here for it.

25:22 - SORE LOSERS?!? I’m sorry. What? If you weren’t concerned about Ainsley you damn well should be now. That is seriously messed up. People are dead. This is not a game. Do you know who else thought murder was a game? Martin Whitly.

25:31 - Okay. Ainsley has a point. Malcolm lecturing anyone about being reckless is pretty hypocritical. But at least Malcolm cares about her.

25:54 - Heart. Shattered. Look at how terrified Jessica is. Look at how gentle and reassuring Gil is. UGh. WHY DID SHE BREAK UP WITH HIM??! I mean, I know why I just think she’s a moron for doing it.

26:00 - Poor Gil. He’s so confused and so concerned. The whole Whitly family is acting crazier then usual and he doesn’t know why.

26:11 - “Both you and Malcolm are at an 11 and I’ve never seen Ainsley like that.” FIND YOURSELF A MAN WHO CARES LIKE GIL AND NEVER LET HIM GO. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Seriously. The love and concern he shows for this family warms my cold dead heart.

26:16 - “Her father?!” Oh shit. Now Gil knows there’s something BIG happening. Jessica would never run to Martin unless she absolutely had to.

26:19 - annnnd Gil’s also being a prideful man who’s feeling are hurt. “You went to him?” He’s right to be though - the woman he loves went to a serial killer for advice before going to the guy who practically co-parented with her.

26:33 - “I’m here. Whatever you need. I’m here.” <3 <3 Gil is the definition of a good man. <3 I’m in love with it.

26:48 - “You were right on time for me.” ....*snort* subtle Gil (and in front of JT!!)

27:08 - Edrisa is hysterical on caffeine. hahaha. This whole scene is perfect.

27:20 - You know someone is acting manic when Malcolm Bright is concerned about their eccentric behaviour.

27:34 - Annnnnd Tom Payne was a split second from breaking character here. I don’t blame him. hahaha

28:05 - EDRISA flipping and dropping that pencil. HAHAHAHAHAHA

29:10 - “Absolutely not.” hahaha this is funny but also really sweet. Malcolm knows that Edrisa hopped up on caffeine isn’t safe to have near an active killer. Who knows what’ll happen. I wish he’d care that much about his own well being. Looks like calling for backup last episode was a one time thing.

30:37 - I’ll give the writers one thing - Miss Windsor makes a convincing murder suspect.

31:22 - GIL. STANDING. UP. FOR. JT. IS. EVERYTHING. Where is O’Malley’s back up? Oh yeah, they’re not brave enough to defend him.

32:00 - Huh. Bright texted for backup. This is growth. I’m proud of him.

32:15 - YES. This JT arc was handled right. Sure JT could’ve complained. It would’ve been episodes upon episodes of bureaucratic nightmares and injustice. This show isn’t about racism. They showed enough to portray that the system is broken and they had JT act like a responsible adult. It’s not fair that JT had to go through this or that he’ll likely experience something similar to it again. But the fact that JT is acting like a bigger person is perfect. JT will protect his family. Always. That includes Malcolm. So JT avoids putting through a formal complaint because he knows that will take time away from doing his job, from protecting others, from hanging out with his wife and kid. JT’s taking the higher road, it might not be gratifying or fair but I respect the hell out of him for taking it.

32:28 - Gil is so so proud of JT. Look at him. <3 <3

33:40 - Look, Miss Windsor is a bit of a stuck up bitch but she has a good heart. Look at the way she immediately tells Malcolm where Ainsley is when she realizes what’s happening.

34:14 - This confused me during the first watch - Ainsley obviously didn’t drink any tea - so why is she drugged? (obviously I know now).

34:17 - Big brother Malcolm frantically looking for Ainsley is so so sweet. <3

35:42 - The music, the dolls, and Miss Windsor’s speech here. There’s something about this part of the episode that is strangely reminiscent of 5x16 of Criminal Minds.

36:20 - ......does Miss Windsor have some sort of mental illness? She’s talking to herself and ranting erratically. Is this just emotional stress or something deeper?

37:00 - This is why Malcolm’s not a serial killer. Even now- looking at a killer - he’s trying to sympathize with her. He’s trying to understand why. He’s trying to calm her down, diffuse the threat, and get her mental help.

39:00 - Oh yeah. Ainsley was definitely going to kill without remorse. Again. I’ve seen some theories that Ainsley only ever tries to kill to protect Malcolm. I disagree. I think Ainsley’s trying to protect herself. Ainsley is pissed off that this girl tried to drug her and kill her because she thinks Ainsley is wicked. Ainsley was pissed at Endicott for whatever he did to Ainsley before Malcolm got there. I think Ainsley felt threatened and scared so she reacted. I don’t think this has anything to do with protecting Malcolm.

39:41 - Malcolm isn’t a killer. Look. He smells gas but he takes the time to carry an unconscious murderer (who literally just tried to kill his sister) out of the building.

40:00 - The drama. Holy hell. What a weird ending to this case.

40:48 - Who gave Ainsley a police jacket and let her keep it?

41:14 - She almost died and she’s still obsessing over ‘winning’. This is seriously unstable behaviour. Way more concerning than anything Malcolm’s done since 2x1.

41:45 - “My father was a serial killer also.” Anyone else super irritated by that phrasing?!? Just me?!? Something about the ‘also’ feels super wrong to me.

41:53 - Oh sweetie. I’d argue that you are more messed up than Malcolm.

42:06 - Jessica went to see Martin twice in one episode. THIS IS BAD.

42:15 - “Maybe even more so than Malcolm if that’s possible.” Jessica knows her kids. I’m on her side here.

42:20 - Martin is way too happy about Ainsley showing signs of serial killing.

42:30 - Jessica? You married an act. That man never existed. He’s always been a serial killer. You just didn’t know it. He’s manipulative and you were a victim to it.

42:50 - “A partner.” OH THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL. ESPECIALLY FOR THE GIL/JESSICA ARC.

Okay....so definitely the weakest episode of the season so far. AND the fact that we got no mention of Tally and/or the baby this episode is a crime.

BUT I’M SO SO SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE. It’s going to be a televised fanfic and I can’t wait.

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 32]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tomorrow and Friday will be a bit study day as I have a takehome midterm. Therefore, today I am getting my life together. (Or at least attempting to.) So, we’ll be doing this story instead of the study one!

Chapter 12

Logan had needed to spend some time performing royal duties today which left Patton and Virgil alone after breakfast. Patton had started out trying to teach Virgil different board games. He’d seemed intrigued at first, but after a few games of checkers seemed to grow bored. Patton had gotten a blank stare when he’d asked if Virgil had any ideas about what to do for fun, so now he was trying to figure out something else they could do. He cast his eyes around at what Logan had in his bedroom.

“How about I read you a book?” he suggested.

Virgil seemed very intrigued by that idea. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay!” Patton said cheerfully. “He popped to his feet and glanced through the small shelf of fiction books Logan kept in his room. He decided to choose one of the lighter ones that Logan and he had liked to read when they were younger. “This one is called The Never-ending Garden,” Patton said. “It’s about a group of four children and their adventures in a garden. It’s full of magic and adventure and friendship! Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds good,” Virgil answered.

Patton happily walked back over to sit next to him. “It is!” he said.

First, he showed Virgil the picture on the cover of a wild looking garden with four kids roaming through it. One of the children was in a little red wagon being pulled by another one wearing a fancy hat. One of the others was walking, looking at a map while the last had a wooden sword. After giving Virgil a couple of moments too look at the picture, Patton cracked it open.

“We start with Lydia’s perspective,” Patton said. “She’s one of my favorites!” He pointed to a picture of a girl in a raincoat at the beginning of the chapter and Virgil leaned slightly closer to see. Then, Patton cleared his voice.

“It had been raining that day,” Patton began, “but Lydia had been so bored that she still begged her father to go out and play when the storm lightened into a sprinkle. He made her change from the yellow dress she had been wearing into the one she often used to help him garden because he knew she was certain to get herself muddy. Her younger brother Marcus asked if he could come too and though part of her wanted to say no because she wanted to explore on her own without her baby brother slowing her down, her father had taught her to be a good big sister, so she agreed to let him come.”

Patton watched Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he read about Lydia meeting up with the neighbor boy, Al, and the three children started to explore the garden in Lydia’s backyard. Virgil leaned in slightly to look at the pictures and listen to the story intently as the three children traveled deeper and deeper into the garden, but never made it to the back fence. They’d just made it to the part where they heard rustling behind the blackberry bush which Patton knew was the last main character, Melly, when Patton felt the need to adjust his posture a bit. Virgil moved in kind and ended up leaning further into Patton.

Without even really thinking about it, Patton brought his arm around to touch the top of his head. Virgil flinched the second Patton made content and Patton drew the hand away immediately. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. Patton was a naturally touching person and he’d been having trouble battling his instincts to cuddle everyone and everything while around Virgil, but he knew most touch was not welcome. The poor thing startled every time Patton went to touch him unannounced and even sometimes when he’d said something before doing it.

“I-it’s okay,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a tight lipped smiled and turned back to the book.

He stilled a second later when Virgil leaned back in and their shoulders brushed. He blinked over at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Do… do you want me to touch your hair?”

Virgil curled up into himself a little bit but then nodded.

“Okay,” Patton said. “I’m going to put my arm around you and do that then, okay?” He drew upon his years and years of convincing easily startled cats to allow him to give them pats as he slowly moved his arm back to where it had been before and gently touched the side of his head. He tensed, but didn’t startle this time, and so Patton gently ran his fingers through the hair a couple of times. Eventually, the tension bled out of him and he sort of slumped against Patton’s shoulder. Patton just barely restrained a coo before going back to reading. He continued to stroke the side of Virgil’s hair as he described the gang meeting up with Melly and them being told she was a fairy that lived in the garden.

He'd only gotten to the part about them finding the wagon when Virgil started to shift a bit uncomfortably, his neck craned in an awkward angle. Patton kept reading as he brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulder and pushed lightly. There was the slightest bit of resistance as Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to do, but then he allowed Patton to move him. Patton leaned back a bit and picked the book up off his lap before continuing to push him down. Virgil did not help at all, seeming confused about what was going on.

Patton had to poke him around until he was on his back laying across Patton’s lap. He grinned down at the boy who was looking at him in blatant bewilderment and propped the book up on his chest. He held it there with one of his hands and stretched the other out to resume messing with his hair. Virgil relaxed into the new position after a few minutes of reading, eyes shutting as he enjoyed the attention. His eyes would flicker open every time Patton moved to show him a picture, but other than that, he seemed content to not move.

Eventually, he stopped responding when Patton moved to show him the pictures.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he bookmarked the last picture Virgil had responded to, and then continued reading to himself.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. It was the one he and Logan had decided on to tell the other one that it was just them and not to panic when the door opened. The door opened to Logan a moment later.

He paused, taking in the sight of the assassin sprawled across Patton’s lap like a sleepy kitten. He shook his head fondly and walked over to them on silent feet. He bent and pressed a hand to the top of Virgil’s hand. Virgil stirred just barely, but didn’t open his eyes, pressing into the touch a bit.

Logan smiled. “He wanted to learn how to make protection charms today. I assume you’d like to join us?” Patton perked up and nodded happily, making Logan chuckle softly. “I will go set it up then. Would you like another book for the time being?”

“Just the one I was reading last night would be nice,” Patton said.

“Of course.” Logan stepped away to grab it and handed it to him. Then, he disappeared into his potion’s lab. Patton smiled down at Virgil’s sleeping face and settled the new book onto his chest to replace the children’s book. He didn’t even stir.

Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

“Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

Once he’d finished decorating his own pendant, Logan looked up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yep!” Patton said, shoving his pendant at Logan while Virgil nodded. Virgil had been far less enthusiastic than Patton, having carefully brushed glitter into the flame design only whereas Patton had haphazardly covered his own all over with glitter. Logan took both pendants.

“This,” Logan said, bringing over a different potion, “is used to make sure the decorations never fall off. It basically allows the other substances to become a part of the stone. “It isn’t too dangerous, but I’d suggest you stand back for the moment.”

Virgil stepped back farther back than was strictly necessary and gave the potion bottle a wary look. Logan moved all three pendants to the prepared surface (else they ran the risk of also getting stuck to the table) and put on gloves, having learned that magically gluing rocks to ones hands was not fun years ago. Then, he carefully drizzled a bit of the potion onto each rock. The rocks fizzled loudly, and Virgil gave off a startled yelp before toppling over flat on his face with his wrist glued to his sides.

“Oh no, honey,” Patton said immediately crouching next to him. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you about the noise.”

Logan wasn’t sure what type of action he’d tried to take when the sound started up, but whatever it was, it had caused him to move his arms fast enough that he’d activated the binding potion and it snapped his wrists to his side, overbalancing him.

Patton’s hands hovered over the startled boy, but he didn’t touch. After a few moments, it was clear that the magic keeping Virgil’s hands at his side released because his hands slowly crept forward to push himself up, so his face wasn’t planted against the ground. His eyes still looked incredibly startled.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Logan took his words as permission to move without risking startling him more. Virgil’s eyes bopped back and forth between him and Patton a few times as he crossed to his wall of potions and grabbed one.

He also selected a clean cloth from a basket on his way over to them. “A light healing potion,” Logan explained as he knelt in front of Virgil. He uncorked it. “May I?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said with a frown. “I’m not even bleeding. It’s barely anything.”

“Which is why it’s a light healing potion,” Logan said. “You are sure to bruise with the way you hit. This will prevent it and make it stop hurting.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed after a moment. Logan dribbled a bit out onto the rag. After a moment of thought, he touched the damp part of the cloth with his own finger, just to quash any fears that it would harm him.

“It will tingle slightly,” Logan warned. Virgil tilted his face to let him dab it onto his nose and the light scrape on his face. His nose scrunched up and he moved to rub the sensation away quickly only to have his arms slam back to his sides.

Patton caught him so the sudden involuntary movement didn’t cause him to fall back, and then giggled when Virgil titled his head to what could only be described as pout back at him.

“Aw, poor thing,” Patton cooed, reaching forward to rub a hand across the top of his nose and then his forehead where the potion had been applied for him.

“Better?” Patton asked.

“You’re really bad at this being captors thing,” Virgil commenting, willingly leaning back into Patton. Patton just smiled happily.

Logan took the bottle and got to his feet, before returning it, and then glanced at the pendants as Patton helped Virgil to his feet. The pendants had stopped fizzing, so Logan felt okay reaching in and grabbing them all.

He handed both Patton and Virgil their pendants when they walked closer to the table.

“And now for the actual enchantment,” Logan said. “For today, I already prepared the potion up to the last step as it has to sit for a few hours, but I will show you the last step and eventually teach you everything if you are still interested.”

Virgil nodded, but said. “No more noises?”

Logan smiled. “No more noises,” he confirmed. Then he pushed forward all of the ingredients he was about to put in the pot for Virgil to study one by one before putting them each in it in the correct order. Then he demonstrated how to stir it correctly and told him how many times, though he doubted he’d be able to retain all of the information from this one demonstration. “There,” he said, setting down his spoon. “Now we just all put our pendants into the pot, and they should be ready in 25 minutes.”

Logan showed Virgil around his potion’s lab while they waited, explaining what certain pieces of equipment did and a bit about his organization system. Virgil followed him around, looking at the things he pointed out curiously. He, however, got very distracted when Logan showed him one of the experiments he’d concocted. It was a thick liquid that was super attracted to itself and would form a small ball that could be disturbed by touching it. He seemed to like the sensation of squishing it down onto a table… over and over and over again.

“We should get him a ball of yarn,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth. He may have been enjoying watching Virgil play with the substance more than Virgil was enjoying playing with it himself. And that was saying something.

21984

Eventually, however, the pendants were finished, and he dragged Virgil away from his new toy to show him the finished product.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Is it supposed to be warm?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “It’s temperature changes based on if the magic on it senses a threat or not. Warmer temperatures mean you are safe.

“Oh,” Virgil said softly, hand squeezing around it. “I like it.”

Logan found himself smiling. “I’m glad. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If you would like, I’m sure Patton has some suggestions if you’d desire a way to keep it attached to your person. He in particular likes to make them into necklaces or clip them to his clothing.”

Virgil looked over at Patton and nodded shyly. Patton immediately perked up. “I’ll go get some supplies!” he said.

Chapter 14

“So then,” Patton was saying. “We ran to the stables.”

“We went to gazebo first,” Logan cut in.

“Right, we tried to go to the gazebo first,” Patton corrected, “but Mr. Deknis was over there tending to the tomatoes, and we knew he’d tell Mama the second he saw us. So, then we turned around and went to the stables.”

Virgil tilted his head, listening to the story Patton was telling. Patton was not the best storyteller. He tended to get lost in the middle and embellish, though Logan always corrected him. It was still very entertaining to watch though because he got incredibly animated. He’d even toppled himself over in excitement a couple of times.

Virgil squeezed the small pillow he had in his lap. He… wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. Logan and Patton had settled him on the blanket covered ground near Logan’s bed and proceeded to feed him snacks and talk about a lot of different things. It had started with them talking about what they’d done that day, and when Patton had made reference to something Virgil hadn’t understood, the two of them ended up talking about things from their childhood.

Virgil found himself entranced by their stories about playing in and running around the castle. It was all so different from what Virgil had experienced.

“…but, right as we were about to get to the ladder to climb up into the hay loft, Logan tripped!” Patton said, arms whipping around him. “He fell into a container of grain for the horses and it spilled all over the place. He tried to get up but grabbed the edge of the water trough and apparently it wasn’t very secure because it fell over and soaked him. So, then he was wet and covered in grain. He looked hilarious.”

“I did not!” Logan protested, but it did not sound like all of the other times he’d corrected Patton’s stories that night.

Patton looked over at him. “You did! You woke up the cute stable hand and he laughed himself silly at you, and by the time we got you even partially cleaned up, your dad had already found us. That’s how we got caught.”

“I have no recollection of these events,” Logan clearly lied, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Liar,” Patton claimed. “You complained about picking grain out of your sheets for weeks.”

“No,” Logan growled.

“Yes! It’s okay. It was a good laugh.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on him, and he looked pissed, but a second later, his expression lightened up. “You know what else was a ‘good laugh’?” he asked.

There was a second of silence before…

“Don’t you dare Logan.”

Logan looked him directly in the eye. “Patton was thirteen,” Logan started, but was interrupted the next moment when Patton lobbed a pillow at his head. Logan grabbed the pillow and leaned forward to smack Patton back with it. “He was thirteen and had just ‘discovered boys’ as his mother and my father called it when they attempted to explain his behavior to me. The focus of said ‘discovering’ at the time was the son of an ambassador from Lamir” who was staying for the summer, a seventeen-year-old boy by the name Bernardo.”

Virgil flinched back as Patton suddenly threw himself across the semicircle they’d made with their bodies to tackle Logan to the ground. He watched as they ineffectually wrestled on the ground for a few seconds before Logan, voice strained continued to speak, while battling Patton’s hands away from his mouth.

“Patton’s only knowledge about flirting… ow… at that point was laughing at everything someone said and touching their arms and shoulders.” Logan managed to flip himself onto his stomach which was a horrible move as far as Virgil was concerned. It put him at a disadvantage to get out of the pin. However, Patton just kept reaching for his mouth and didn’t bare down on his neck to try to cut off his oxygen like Virgil expected. So, perhaps it was a rational move. “Our parents were speaking leaving Patton, Bernardo, and I in the garden,” Logan mumbled into the ground. “Bernardo said something ‘funny’ and Patton went to slap his shoulder while laughing, but shoved too hard… Patton did you just lick my face?!”

“And I’ll do it again if you don’t shut up!” Patton threatened. That was a… weird fighting strategy.

Logan paused to consider his options. “He shoved Bernardo into the fountain and when Bernardo asked him why he did that, he ran away and wouldn’t talk to him the rest of the summer!” Logan rushed out.

Patton reached over and grabbed the nearest pillow, proceeding to whack him viciously in the back of the head. Logan was lucky the nearest object was a pillow and not something any sturdier. “It’s not funny!” Patton yelled, smacking him even more, which was when Virgil realized Logan was laughing despite the pinning and pillow pummeling. “It’s not!” Patton said. “I really liked him!!”

“He was seventeen!” Logan said. “It was never going to happen!”

Patton groaned and rolled off of Logan to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “But he had so many muscles,” Patton said. “He probably could have thrown me 10 yards.”

“And that is… a benefit?” Logan asked, rolling over onto his side to face him.

“You don’t. Get me.” Patton tilted his head to look at Virgil. “Anyway,” he said. “That is the story of how I died at 13.”

Virgil stared at him, and Patton’s forehead crinkled looking at him.

“Is something wrong, honey?” he asked.

“What was that?” Virgil asked.

“What was what?”

Virgil just blinked at him. Patton seemed to think for a moment.

“Oh, did you think we were fighting?” Patton asked. “Like, really fighting?”

“You weren’t fighting?” Virgil asked.

“No, sweetie,” Patton said. “We were just playing.” He popped up into a sitting position. “Well, play fighting, but emphasis on play!”

Virgil looked over at Logan for confirmation. “No one is harmed nor was there any intention to harm each other,” he assured.

Patton grabbed the pillow he’d been smacking Logan with. “Like this!” he said. “Bap.” Unlike how he’d smacked Logan ruthlessly, he basically just touched Virgil’s shoulder with it.

Virgil squinted at him.

“Bap!” Patton said again, smacking him again, this time with a little bit more force and on the cheek. Virgil’s nose scrunched up. “Pillow fight!”

“Pillow fight?”

“You try,” he said, pointing to the pillow in Virgil’s lap.

Virgil glanced down at the bands around his wrist. “Um…” he said. “I don’t think I can?”

“Oh, right,” Patton said with a frown. He bit his lip and glanced over at Logan. “Maybe…”

“Ill-advisable,” Logan said.

“But…” Patton said. “Pillow fight.”

“We would have to be very cautious and make sure there were no weapons in the area.”

“No weapons but pillows!”

“Fine,” Logan relented to whatever was going on. “Let’s clear the area.” Virgil watched them with mounting confusion as they removed everything within a few meters radius of him except for pillows and blankets.

“There!” Patton said after a minute. “All done!”

“What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“We’re going to have a pillow fight,” Patton said.

“But I…”

“We’ll temporarily allow your restraints to be in the third setting like when you’re in the closet.”

Were they serious? Were they stupid? Virgil could have killed them dozens of times with the second setting and now they were giving him even more range of motion?

“You have to promise not to try to hurt anyone though,” Patton said. Virgil stared at him dumbly, as Patton held out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Patton nodded solemnly. “We lock pinky fingers and make a promise. It’s the most binding promise in the universe.”

Virgil looked at his finger, confused. He’d never heard of that type of deal. “What kind of magic is it?”

“No magic,” Patton said. “Just friendship.” Virgil tilted his head but brought his hand up so Patton could twine their fingers together. “Now, promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I promise I won’t hurt anyone,” he said.

“It’s a deal!” said Patton, squeezing Virgil’s finger with his own briefly before drawing away. “I trust you.” Virgil felt a rush of something that was no type of magic he’d ever come into contact before but was definitely far more powerful.

Logan came over to them and waved his hand over the restraints on Virgil. They buzzed slightly and Virgil looked between them. “So, I just hit you with pillows?”

“Try not to hit too hard near the face, and Lo and I should probably take off our glasses before we start, but yeah,” Patton said, taking his glasses off as he said it. It was yet another foolish move on his part. “It’s fun, and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay…” Virgil said.

“I will demonstrate,” Logan said as he took a pillow and smacked Patton in the stomach.

“Hey! No fair!” Patton giggled. “We haven’t started yet!” This did not deter Logan however, as he continued to smack Patton with a pillow.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It has started, and we’re getting you first.”

“No,” Patton whined, but the way he crumpled to the ground under the onslaught seemed far too staged to make Virgil worry. He didn’t even try to curl up into a ball or to protect his head, just taking the hits and giggling.

Logan looked up at Virgil and motioned with his head. Virgil inched over and looked down at Patton. Logan slowed for a few moments. “Go on,” he urged.

Virgil bit his lip and reached forward to smack Patton lightly with his pillow which seemed to do nothing to him but renew his peels of giggles. From there, it was easy to continue. Logan picked up the pace of his strikes and he and Virgil proceeded to ‘fight’ Patton until he couldn’t breath through his laughter and pushed the pillows away, curling up on his side to recover.

23897

“No what?” Virgil asked when Patton sat up.

“Now I get vengeance!” Patton said, popping to his feet and smacking Logan in the face. “Help me Virgil!” So, Virgil turned on Logan and he and Patton gave the prince the same treatment. Then, because it was only fair, it was Virgil’s turn, though they were a lot more careful with him then they’d been with each other, and really Patton spent more of the time checking in on Virgil then actually hitting him with the pillow. It was nice. Fun. And when Virgil pushed them away, they pulled back. Then, it was Patton’s turn again and they went around teaming up on each other and sometimes just smacking at each other at random.

Eventually, they slowed, and all ended up laying near each other on the floor.

“Well, that made me hungry,” Patton said, sitting up and stretching. “I asked Mama to make us a bunch of mini sandwiches with different flavors. I’ll go get them.”

He hopped to his feet to walk over to where they’d stored the food earlier in those little glowing magical balls Logan had for food preservation.

Logan and Virgil sat up too, and Virgil offered him his wrists.

“Right,” Logan said with a blink. He made a motion and Virgil could feel the magic weighing down his hands once again. He’d almost forgotten, Virgil thought with an internal sigh. They’d given an assassin free range of motion, had a pillow fight with him, and almost forgotten to restrain him again. What was Virgil going to do with these idiots?

Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

“It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,” Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

“You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

“If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

26422

After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

“I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

“We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

“Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

#not writing #proofread stories

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halfelven · 4 years ago

Note

OOh ooh for the ask meme, if youre bored could you do ALL the questions for kite and Razor ??? or whichever are most interesting to you if you don't want to do that many !! no pressure. -hunterxloser

@hunterxloser okay since I am Still working on Kite’s but finished Razor’s I’m just gonna put it here first since they’re both long

cw: child abuse, death, child death, violence, murder, burns, child neglect, beating

Razor

1. Their physical weak spots

not entirely sure what this means. He doesn’t have great peripheral vision so he relies on hearing and his amazing memory + details of angles/curvature to guess where things will go (or has his 14 Devils see for him)

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

he decided ages ago that lives weren’t that important since he saw them so disregarded; not entirely over that world view

getting called by his name/viewed as a human makes him very likely to lean into doing something he might not think is entirely righteousness

views the world a bit as a game since he lives in one

his Achilles’ heel is definitely love

3. Scars or painful spots

he has scars on his back from being beaten/whipped when he was younger for some crimes. He has two pretty bad burns (one high on his leg, the other on his stomach) from dropping an oil lamp

4. Best places to kiss on their body

(I’m assuming this means besides their face) so ears, chest

5. Guilty pleasures

celebrity gossip even though he barely knows who any of them are he thinks it’s funny to keep up with rich people who’ve visited Greed Island and sometimes sending in photos from their surveillance cameras or little rude stories to bother them if they were rude to him

cotton candy ice cream

playing with legos (he’s not guilty about it though)

6. Their vices (physical or emotional)

he smokes

catches himself lying just out of habit. He doesn’t usually correct himself either

7. Their tickle spots

he’s ridiculously proud of not being ticklish (the only things that would really bother him would be like a feather under chin or on feet)

8. Bad memories/experiences

too many

ones that stand out: shooting someone in the knee and watching them go down when he was quite young, because he could see parts of their bone. He screamed so Razor shot him in the head to kill him, and that was the first murder he committed

the oil lamp incident

being severely beaten as a child for theft and such

he was also kicked/punched sometimes just for amusement

and smacked/hit if he messed up anything or wasn’t fast enough listening to orders

when he was a kid he knew another kid who died of an allergic reaction to a bee and another who died from drinking contaminated water. No one cared that much though since they were rid of a mouth to feed

9. Humiliating memories

again too many

being called names

being hit and too small to fight back

he was mocked, teased, and tormented

10. Fears/phobias

terrified of losing his strength and position (he knows how cruel and fucked up the world is)

that no one will ever view him as more than a brute

11. Bad or petty habits

resting his elbows on the top of short people’s heads

he’s not that petty, but he does sometimes send in the unflattering pictures of celebs he met who were rude

picks List up for fun

12. Grudges and vendettas

he hasn’t got any he can do anything about

there are some people he killed, and he’s glad they’re dead

13. What gets them flustered

being touched gently, sincere eye contact, his name

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit

lying

he punches his palm with his fist a lot

claps when he makes a point in speech

swings his arms/does stretches all the time

15. What it takes to make them cry

a lot. Like a lot a lot. He turned all his sorrow into anger ages ago and it’s hard to undo

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

not much are secrets. His crimes were pretty well known. He strangled a fifteen year old boy to death once for hurting a small child. He wasn’t found for that crime because no one could figure out a motive

17. Regrets

he sometimes wishes that he hadn’t let his pain make him so angry and bitter and selfish, that he could have become a better person by being gentler

18. Things they’ll never admit

that he sometimes wishes that he hadn’t let his pain make him so angry and bitter and selfish, that he could have become a better person by being gentler

19. People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

he killed a lot of people. I think I covered the ones I’ve thought about in other questions. he never killed anyone indirectly. he’s a bit bothered by some of the people he killed since he realised when he got the death penalty how final death was, on an individual level terrifying, even if it happens every day. and that he decided he was capable of choosing who died like it was nothing for so long. because it felt like nothing, until it was was him. (some of them he doesn’t regret though.)

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

if he’d been more of a ‘Robin Hood’ type person, less angry or maybe angry in a different way

21. Turning points in their life

when he hit puberty and realised how strong he was and worked on crafting it more and more

realising just how easy it was to kill

when Ging spared his life and called him Razor

seeing Kite ngl

also seeing Gon

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

Ging, definitely

people who he saw throw around other people’s lives

everyone who hurt him

Gon

Kite, okay here’s why: when they met briefly when Ging took him to Greed Island, because he sort of saw an opposite reflection of himself in Kite (a bit of jealousy there with Kite being the person Ging takes and Razor being the person Ging leaves, but Kite is “better” than him in that way he won’t talk about because there’s no point to wish for something more, that’s life. He was a killer and Kite fixed birds’ broken wings and what the hell can you do to change it, so don’t dwell on it, it’s good the game keeps him busy, but it doesn’t keep him busy enough)

the parallels with these two mess me up omg

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sunset-bobby · 4 years ago

Text

Title: You Mean the Holograms

Summary: Julie invites Carrie over to tell her the truth about her band, and maybe her dad, but what if she already knows

Word Count: 1886

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822940

If there was one thing Carrie Wilson was good at, it was acting as if she was not aware of things. People often assume because she is the daughter of Trevor Wilson and shallow, which she is sometimes and is working on it, that she is not in tune with what’s going on in other people’s lives, but she is. So, when Julie texted her to come over saying she ‘needed to tell her something’. Carrie had a pretty good idea of what she was getting herself into. After all her dad is Trevor Wilson, and well he’s a terrible liar no matter how hard he tries. So that is how she found herself at Julie’s studio on a Saturday afternoon sitting on a chair, with Julie pacing in front of her nervously.

“Okay, so I called you here to introduce you to my band,” Julie stated and Carrie nodded along.

“The holograms?” she asked her in a false tone that made Julie believe she was clueless.

“That’s the thing. They aren’t actually holograms,” she paused and Carrie looked at her in anticipation., “ They’re ghosts.” Carrie gave her a look that was a mix of disbelief and confusion, but before she could say anything Julie cut her off.

“Before you say anything, let me show you,” and she heads off to the piano. Now Carrie can’t actually see the ghost, but she is already aware of their existence, so she sends a small smirk to the air and hopes one of them is catching on and finds this as amusing as she is. However if what she already knows about them is true the one most likely to catch on, is freaking out. Julie plays a piano riff that Carrie is familiar with before a faint whooshing sound comes in and before stands the face of 3 teenage boys that she is secretly very familiar with. Julie stops playing and the boys as well. Something new Carrie was not ready for. Point ghost.

“The new abilities are hard to explain as of right now, but they can now be seen after we play as well,” Julie explains and Carrie nods along once more.

“Okay, so Care this is-,” but Carrie takes the opportunity to expose her own secrets now.

“Luke, Reggie, and Alex. Formally of the early 90s rock band Sunset Curve, currently of the up and coming band Julie and the Phantoms,” she says and her tone is dripping with that false innocence she uses to really push certain statements over the edge, and from the looks on both the boys and Julie’s face it seems she has. The blonde one, Alex, is the first to speak.

“H-how does she know that?” he looks around at his shocked friends before looking back at her, “how do you know tha?” She smiles, not fully she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s finding amusement in his obvious sense of panic, but just enough to where they know she’s planned this.

“Did you ask your dad about it?” Reggie, the bassist, asked recovering next, and Carrie decided to add some more to the drama.

“My dad? Why would he be involved in this?” Her smile has dropped giving the illusion that she is serious about her confusion. The boys and Julie blubber out multiple excuses to each other trying to come up with the same story, and she lets them for a while, before cracking. A laugh escapes her lips drawing their attention back to her.

“I’m joking, no my dad told me everything,” she says in between laughs, but the others just continue to stare.

“So you already know everything?” Luke asks and there is a slight emphasis in his voice that makes her realize he is asking for something specific, and she knows what it is, but she isn’t going to let that out just yet.

“Oh do you mean how Alex likes to join me for Dirty Candi performances?”

“How did-”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve walked through you and that chill is pretty hard to miss,” she answers, interrupting Alex’s question. She looks over at Luke and his face is hard to read, but he’s definitely riled up.

“Or are you talking about if I know that you’re connected to Julie because of her mom, whom you met 20 mins prior to your, um….” she trailed off, she didn’t know if their passings were a sensitive topic or not.

“Wait, really?” Julie asked, and Carrie was not aware that she did not know.

“Um, yeah it’s how our parents met. However they didn’t become friends until your mom picked my sobbing dad up off of the streets of Sunset Boulevard, or at least that what he said,” she said nonchalantly. This topic was something her dad discussed multiple times. He was very open with his experience with grief, although she thinks it’s because Dr.Crystal advises him too. She takes another look at Luke, and by now she thinks he can tell she’s avoided the topic purposely. She sighs as he opens his mouth to speak, and talks before him.

“Fine. I know you want know if I am aware that the songs on my dad’s first two albums are Sunset Curves, that he didn’t credit you, and is legally not allowed to discuss it with anyone who doesn’t already know, because somehow his dumb 21 year old self didn’t know how to read through a contract,” she told him exasperated, but was shocked when she did not get an immediate response from the boy in return. Then again none of the others said anything either.

“Oh, you didn’t know about that detail did you?”

“No,” Luke said quietly, “no we did not.”

“Carrie if you knew all of this why didn’t you tell me. At least about the music part when we were friends?” Julie asked, and Carrie did not realize how this would look to her.

“I didn’t know until middle school, and I thought you knew too. I figured your mom was going to tell you.”

“I didn’t know she knew.”

“I’m sorry Juls. Maybe it was for a good reason. I only found out on accident,” Carrie offered and Julie nodded.

“Is there anything else you might know?” Reggie asked her, but the answer was a little iffy. She knew a lot of things thanks to her dad’s shrine to them, which she still finds weird despite the fact he’s also in the pictures.

“Maybe you should just ask me questions, and I can see what I can answer,” she suggested and they nodded. Alex started.

“Do you know anything about our families?”

“Some things, yes. Uh how sensitive is this topic though?” she wanted to make sure she covered all of her bases before continuing.

“It’s relatively sensitive, but we wanna know,” was all she got in response.

“Um okay, well despite the fact he did not credit you guys, my dad still gave money to your families, or at least those who deserved it. I don’t know much about your family, I’m sorry Reggie.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but she had a feeling it wasn’t. She did not want to over step.

“What about me?” Luke asked, “I know Julie and I saw my parents a couple weeks ago, and I try to visit them often, but I-,”

“You know,” she started cutting him off, “Ms. Emily is always telling my dad it does not do well to keep replaying your mistakes.”

“You’ve met my mom?”

“Yeah I saw her earlier in the month with my dad. We were continuing a tradition he and Julie’s mom started,” she explained.

“What tradition?”

“They bring her flowers on special occasions. I think it was a birthday or something. He’s never gone alone before. If Rose couldn’t go, he’d send them by mail, but he says that anniversaries are hard. I think that’s why he took me too.”

“Oh.”

“ Hey, I don’t know your story, but I don’t believe you should keep blaming yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, I am very familiar with that look.”

“What about my family?” Alex asked, however his situation was a little different, and Carrie was not sure when the right time would come again.

“My dad doesn’t really like to talk to all of them. Mainly just my mom, but-”

“Mom!” Alex exclaimed, cutting her off.

“Yeah, my mom is Alyssa Da-”

“LYSSA, she’s like 10 years younger than him. I can’t believe he…” The boys looked at one another in disgust, but Carrie and Julie, just bubbled with laughter, causing the disgusted looks to turn into confused ones.

“What’s happening. Why are you laughing at the fact that Bobby defiled Alex’s little sister?” Luke asked.

“Okay, can we not say it like that,” Alex grimaced.

“Alex, don’t worry, he didn’t do anything with your sister,” Julie stated.

“Yeah, despite the small resemblances, he isn’t my biological dad,” she added.

“Then why-”

“She had me when she was 16, but instead of putting me up for adoption, she gave me to my dad. I don’t really know everything, but my dad told me when I was 7.” Alex nodded.

“Okay, but earlier you were laughing?” he asked, and Julie giggled beside her.

“Because I’m pretty sure we both thought of the same response,” Julie answered, and looked at Carrie.

“He says it whenever anyone asks about his relationship status in interviews,” Carrie also added.

“ Honey, I haven’t touched a woman since 1999,” they both quoted in sync before breaking out in a fit of laughter once more.

“Bobby is gay?!” all three boys shouted.

“Bi actually,” Julie corrected.

“With a preference for men...guitar players specifically,” Carrie continued.

“Not that any of them last very long according to tabloids,” Julie said aimlessly.

“Yeah, well you know dad is always picky. Apparently he has this thing where they have to match his talent,” Carrie said and she and Julie looked at one another again silently confirming if they were thinking the same thing, before turning back to the boys who were flickering.

“I guess this is our goodbye,” Reggie joked and Carrie cracked a smile.

“For now,” she added.

“Do you think you can come back? Tell us more about your dad and what we missed?” Luke asked, and she shook her head yes.

“Yeah, or you guys could come to mine and I can show you my dad’s Sunset Curve room that he likes to cry in sometimes.” That didn’t really get the laughs she thought it would, and she scolded herself for not remembering that joking about trauma was a Wilson thing, but the boys were gone before she could even back track, so she turned to Julie.

“Well I know they’re still here, but I drove myself so if you wanna hang out I could stick around,” she suggested, and Julie smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Besides I think we have some things to talk about.” She led her out of the studio and Carrie happily followed, knowing that there were most likely three teenage ghosts following her. So yes, sometimes she does pretend to be clueless, because she likes being underestimated, but sometimes it’s good to show all of her strengths, because you might be able to mend a couple of friendships.

#julie and the phantoms #reggie jatp #alex jatp #luke patterson #julie molina #carrie wilson #trevor wilson #jatp fanfic #jatp #bobby jatp #sunset curve #rose molina #ray molina #carlos molina #flynn jatp #nick danforth evans #caleb covington #willie jatp #carrie and julie

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bigassheart · 4 years ago

Text

Updated TUA Timeline

A little over a year ago, Aidan posted a timeline for the events of the Umbrella Academy on his Instagram. I posted it on this blog at the time and promised I was going to update my TUA Timeline post with that info. Never did. But I am now! So, here it is. The updated TUA Timeline.

Also, there will obviously be spoilers, so don’t read this if you haven’t watched season 1.

October 1st, 1989 - The Umbrella Academy kids are born.

1993 - Grace Joins the family. This is according to Aidan’s Timeline. Depending on the time of the year, the kids would be 3 or 4 when this happens. This may or may not be when the kids get names.

1993/1994 - Vanya forgets about her powers. Vanya also trains with Reginald and is subsequently made to forget about her powers around this time. Though we don’t get a specific date or length of time that Vanya trains, the flashbacks don’t appear to show her training for a super long time. I think a good guess would be less than a year for this training, putting Vanya’s age at 4. (This also matches up with the casting for the young Vanya and young Allison roles, which I used previously to estimate this age/date)

1997/1998 - Klaus is locked in the mausoleum for the first time. I am basing this on the casting for the role of young Klaus, which has him at 8 years old. However, it’s not quite that simple, because when Klaus is talking to his dad in episode 7, he says that his dad locked him in the mausoleum when he was 13. Complicating matters even further, there is a post somewhere out there that took a screen shot of Reginald’s journal with notes about locking Klaus in the mausoleum. (I have not been able to find that post again, so if anyone knows the one I’m talking about and has a link, I would love to put it in here). The date recorded on those notes is 2001. (I don’t remember the month, but I think it was summer) That would have made him 11 years old. It’s possible that this was just an inconsistency in the writing. Or it’s possible that Reginald locked Klaus in a mausoleum on at least 3 different occasions at age 8, 11, and 13. Possibly more.

2001/2002 - The Umbrella Academy stops a Robbery I’m basing this on the fact that all the same actors were used for these scenes as were used in the scene where Five leaves, so they can’t be much more than a year younger than that.

November 10, 2002 - Five leaves the Academy According to Pogo in episode 1, Five has been gone for 16 years, 4 months, and 14 days. The date in that episode is March 24th, 2019 (according to Vanya). That means that Five disappeared on November 10th, 2002, a little more than a month after the Umbrella Academy kids all turned 13. (This date is also confirmed on Aidan’s timeline)

(Side-note. Remember when Klaus mentions being locked in the mausoleum when he was 13? That means it probably happened not too long after Five disappeared. Holy Fuck Regi!)

2006(?) - Ben Dies OK, this is only a guess, BUT it’s a good one and if you scroll down to the additional notes at the bottom, you’ll see why.

2014 - Vanya publishes her book In episode 3, we learn that Vanya wrote her book 5 years earlier. (when they were 24) At this point, Ben is already dead and Luthor has not had his accident yet.

2014/2015 - Luther has his accident We’re not sure how long it takes Regi to send Luther to the moon after his accident (days? weeks? months?) so all we really know is that the accident happens sometime between Vanya publishing her book and the moon trip.

2015 - Luther goes to the moon In episode 6, Luther says that he was on the moon for 4 years, making him about 25 years old when he left. Aidan’s timeline also confirms that Luther went to the moon in 2015.

March 24th, 2019 - Reginald’s Funeral We know this because they tell Five the exact date.

April 1st, 2019 - Apocalypse (Dear Commission: Worst April Fools joke ever).

This Brings us to the present. The members of the Umbrella Academy are all 29, except for Five, who is 58, and Klaus, who spent 10 months in Vietnam and is therefore 30 now.

Additional Notes on the Timeline:

Five in the Future Five finds Delores pretty soon after the apocalypse (again, same actor, so I’m figuring a year leeway at most). He tells Klaus that he was with Delores for 30 years. That would make him about 43 when The Handler shows up. When Five gets back to the present, he gives a very specific amount of time he has been gone: 45 years. This means he spent 15 years working for the Comission, making him 58 at this point. Five also traveled through history extensively while working for the commission. His last mission had something to do with the Kennedy assassination, which would put him in 1963. (Quick note on this one - Someone commented on this post a while back with a correction and I was going to go back and do more research so I could correct these numbers, but now I can’t find the post and it’s been so long that I can’t remember what the correction was. So, if these numbers look off, let me know and I will fix it)

1968 - Klaus travels back in time to the Vietnam War Historical Context: This is 3 years after the first American troops arrived in Vietnam and 5 years after Kennedy was assassinated. Nixon was elected in 1968. This was also the year of the Tet Offensive, a massive campaign by the North Vietnamese Army to push the US troops out of the country and ferment rebellion among the South Vietnamese people. This was the big turning point in the war and marked the beginning of the US troops’ defeat. This was also the year of the My Lai Massacre, where the US Army murdered more than 500 civilians in the city of My Lai. This incident was covered up for a year before the American press found out about it.

Finally, the reasoning behind my guess that 2006 is the year Ben died:

Klaus mentions that Ben died “young and tragic”

Everyone left the house after Ben died, according to Vanya.

In episode 3, Alison says that they left their mom alone for 13 years. (13 years ago, they would have been 16) We don’t know how quickly everyone left, if it took days, weeks, or even years, so it’s possible that 13 years ago was when Alison left specifically. It could be that everyone was gone by that date. Or it could be that this is when everyone started leaving.

Diego mentions moving out at 17. Again, everyone left after Ben died, so it would have happened before that.

Ben’s statue does not have a date on it, but obviously he would have had to be at least the same age as he is depicted there.

We also have the following portraits sequence in episode 1 that was used to show Five’s disappearance and Ben’s death. Here are all 4 portraits.

Portrait 1 is done when they are all 12 or 13 years old. Everyone looks about the same age in portrait 2, so I’m assuming it Reginald had it commissioned right after Five disappeared. It would therefore make sense that portrait 4 was done right after Ben died. There are clearly several years age difference between portraits 2 and 3. It also looks like there may be another year or so age difference between portraits 3 and 4. Because of this, I would argue that the children are at least 15 years old in the final portrait. Therefore, Ben dies at age 15 or 16.

Last bit of evidence is Aidan’s timeline. Now, the year for Ben’s death is blacked out, BUT we can see the general shape of the numbers. The first number is clearly a 2, so we know that it’s not just a bunch of 0′s as a place holder. The last two numbers are rounded at the top and the bottom. In the font they are using, that gives us these possible years: 2003, 2006, 2008, 2009.

The placement between 2002 and 2015 is just a little past the middle point, so at first I figured that would mean the year was 2009. HOWEVER, that would mean he died at age 20. The other kids definitely don’t look 20 in the portrait after Ben dies and this doesn’t match up with the comments Allison and Diego make about leaving when they were still in their teens. Also, if you look at the timeline for earlier years, the same space between dates is used across the board, whether those dates are 4 years apart or 9 years apart.

Conclusion: I think Ben died in early 2006 (making him 16).

And that’s all I’ve got so far.

If anyone else has more clues for the timeline, please add them to this post.

#TUA Timeline #The Umbrella Academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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victory-red · 4 years ago

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why tōya being the oldest todoroki sibling makes no (or very little) sense.

Warning: Manga spoilers. Long post ahead - big paragraphs, lots of reading, and at least one (1) rabbit trail.

So I know this is old news, but I’ve been meaning to make a post about it for a little while now. I know a lot of people already headcanoned that Tōya was the oldest Todoroki sibling even before it was officially confirmed, but it just never really made sense to me, particularly in regard to Enji’s timeline. And then, after Chapter 291 came out, it made even less sense.

(A couple of quick disclaimers, before I continue: I’m not trying to pass anything off as fact. My conclusions are simply opinions based on observations I’ve made. I’ll also note that there are definitely gaps in what information we do officially have, so there is still a chance that what seems to me like a fairly significant plothole will eventually be explained.)

I’ll start with Enji - more specifically, his current confirmed age in relation to Fuyumi’s, who is the oldest Todoroki sibling whose age we do officially know. As of the current manga arc, Enji is 46 years old, and Fuyumi is 23. Since Enji’s birthday is in early August and Fuyumi’s in early December, that means that Enji was a little over 23 years old when he and Rei had Fuyumi.

From what we know of Enji’s history and personality, that seems like a reasonable age for him to have started having kids. He said in Ch. 165 that he became Number Two at age 20, at which point he immediately realized that he wasn’t ever going to be able to surpass All Might on his own. He said that it was because of this realization that he passed the torch (no pun intended) to Shōto. But, Shōto wouldn’t be born until a decade later. So, it makes sense to me that this would be the point that Enji decided it would be best to instead try having a child that could surpass All Might. In other words, it makes sense that this would be the catalyst that led to Shōto’s birth.

The most recent information we got regarding Enji and Rei’s relationship in Ch. 291 seems to be just a bit conflicting with how Shōto had described things back in Ch. 31 - unlike Shōto’s account, Ch. 291 sort of implied that Enji did care for Rei to some capacity, at least early in their marriage. (How he’s been portrayed in flashbacks recently is actually very conflicting with flashbacks from earlier chapters, and even with his entire personality in earlier chapters. But I won’t get into that - we’ll just make the assumption that Shōto’s story was biased, because it probably was.)

Since he essentially bought Rei’s family off, it only makes sense that he would have to grow to care for her over a period of time - you know, maybe like a year or two. I’m not sure how long the entire Quirk Marriage process took, but factoring in the 9 or so months Rei had to carry Fuyumi before she was born, it makes sense that after Enji’s realization upon attaining the Number Two title, the entire process of creating the plan of having hyper-powerful children, finding a suitable partner, buying her family off, marrying her, and having their first child would take anywhere between two to three years. That would mean that he was 20 when the process started, 22 when Rei got pregnant, and 23 when Fuyumi was born. Boom.

(Frankly, even that timeframe seems a bit compressed to me, but since Enji’s and Fuyumi’s ages are both canonically set in stone, I have no choice but to work with it.)

Tōya canonically being older than Fuyumi begins to screw a lot with the timeline - especially taking into consideration what the implied age gap between them is. I unfortunately can’t find where (or if) this is explicitly stated in the manga, but the wiki says that most Quirks develop around the age of 4. Now, it’s entirely possible that Tōya was born with his Quirk, but given Rei’s constitution, I highly suspect that there would have been severe complications with both her pregnancy and Tōya’s birth. It also makes sense that if he had developed his Quirk at an exceptionally young age, there would have been some note made of it. But since neither of those things are mentioned to have happened, we’ll just assume he was between 3 and 4½ years old when his Quirk manifested.

I don’t know how long afterward it took for Enji and Rei to decide to have another baby, but I can’t imagine that the decision took any longer than several months. I’ll be conservative and say that they decided no longer than a few months after Tōya’s Quirk developed, because remember - Enji literally, canonically cannot be any older than 23 when Fuyumi was born. Jumping 9 months forward from that time, Tōya would most likely have been between 4 and 5 years old when Fuyumi was born.

Now I will note that in the top panel, Tōya looks to me to be between 4 and 6 years old, which was presented as being before Fuyumi’s birth. But in the lower one, where he’s crawling over to look at baby Fuyumi (or at least I think that’s what’s happening? It’s a bit dark to tell for certain), he looks a lot younger - in fact, he doesn’t even look to have the white streak in his hair yet. But given how it’s explained that Enji and Rei even came to the decision to have Fuyumi at all, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense contextually. But, I’ll let it be and just assume that the manga didn’t present those panels chronologically. It could also be the zoomed-out view that makes Tōya seem smaller. Either way, I’m overanalyzing, and that’s sort of off-topic, anyway.

Okay, I think that’s all the setup I need to finally get to the meat of my argument, which I will start with this: If Tōya is anywhere between 4 and 5 years older than Fuyumi, that means that Enji was anywhere between 18 and 19 years old when Tōya was born.

In any other situation, that might make sense, but here’s the thing: it’s already been established, or at least very heavily implied, that Enji didn’t even consider the possibility of having children to surpass All Might until he attained his Number Two status, which as I’ve already mentioned happened when he was 20. Even if Tōya was only 3 years older than Fuyumi, which doesn’t make much sense because he would then have had to develop his Quirk at age 2 or younger, that still would mean that he was conceived before Enji even became Number Two.

If that doesn’t make sense to you, think of it this way: If Enji was between 18 and 20 years old when Tōya was born, that would mean that Tōya would have been conceived when Enji was 17 at the youngest - still a student, unless he graduated early. Regardless, that also implies he would have had to create his elaborate plan to beat All Might, as well as find and marry Rei, before he even graduated secondary school. Given what information we have from canon, that just does not make any semblance of sense.

As compelling that argument alone may or may not be, there are others to support it as well. Let’s consider what that implies for the age gaps between Tōya and the other Todoroki siblings. If he’s 3-5 years older than Fuyumi, that means he’s roughly 7-9 years older than Natsuo and 10-12 years older than Shōto. That would mean, if Shōto were between 5 and 6 years old in the following panels, Tōya would be anywhere between 15 and 18 years old. Fuyumi would be between 10 and 13, and Natsuo would be between 8 and 11.

While I understand that Tōya inherited Rei’s slight constitution, puberty usually begins for boys around 12 or 13 years old (although to my understanding it often starts later in Asian boys), so Tōya would likely have already begun to go through his growth spurt by this age. Even assuming that Natsuo had started going through his own growth spurt, Tōya still has 7-9 years on him - so the chances that Natsuo had this much height and mass on him are pretty slim. I might be able to buy Tōya being 15 years old in those panels, but I find even that a bit of a stretch.

And finally, let’s talk about how old Tōya was when he “died.”

Assuming that the second panel is the most recent (halfway decent) photo the Todorokis have of Tōya before his “death,” I’m inclined to agree with the people who have pointed out that his clothes resembled a junior high school uniform, similar to what Midoriya and Bakugō were seen wearing in the story’s earliest chapters and episodes. Junior high school in Japan is attended by students between the ages of 12 and 15, roughly - so it’s safe to assume that Tōya was no older than 15 years old when he “died.” However, I will note that given how Horikoshi draws most of the 15-year-old male characters in the story, he does look younger than that to me. I am keeping in mind that Tōya was mentioned to have had a slight build - even as Dabi, he still does - so there is the possibility that my conclusions there aren’t accurate.

If Tōya was 12 when he “died,” Shōto would probably not have any memories of him at all - at the time of his “death,” he would have been anywhere between 2 years old and a newborn. It’s implied in the manga and the anime that Tōya disappeared sometime after Rei burned Shōto’s face, which undoubtedly happened after Enji had begun to train him - so, likely well after he had turned 5. In the somewhat unlikely event that his face was burned while he was still 5 years old, Tōya would have been between 15 and 18 years old, as mentioned above. If it had happened when Shōto was 7, he would have been between 17 and 20, and so on. Going with the junior high school uniform theory, which honestly seems rather plausible, he essentially cannot have “died” after age 15 - so, more than likely, he would have been gone before Shōto even began his training. Obviously, this is disproven by the soccer panel in Ch. 39.

Honestly, I don’t know how else to say it - no matter how I angle it, it just does not make sense to me, canonically, that Tōya is the eldest Todoroki sibling. There’s a lot of information stacked up against it, and though I’ve mulled over it for a bit now, I can’t actually think of a scenario in which it actually is a logical conclusion.

TL;DR: Tōya being the oldest Todoroki doesn’t make sense in light of information we have regarding Enji’s timeline as well as previous images we’ve seen in the manga and anime.

#bnha #mha #touya todoroki #dabi #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki family #meta #v.txt

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