#I probably left out so many other details

[celestialwhoree]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝟔

You're not sure whether asking Nikto how he worked out what your favourite foods are is a good idea. Realistically, you know that men in his field are required to be perceptive, to pick out the smallest of details which may be useful later. He's been in your house so many times, in your fridge for a left over slice of pie, or the less that you can barely consider a garage to grab whatever tool he'd needed to fix your wobbly fencepost. On the one hand, his awareness of you, what you like and dislike, is comforting. It feels safe to have someone so constantly tuned in on your frequency. Safe. On the other? Having someone so impossibly attentive to your needs is unsettling. It's been far too long since you've had someone shadowing your day-to-day life - and Nikto is, undeniably, like a shadow.

The picnic is - it's really sweet. Well intentioned. The execution, admittedly is rudimentary, but you're just splitting hairs. A guy set you up a picnic after you practically sucked off his face in your kitchen. You're pretty sure most would've run had they felt the sheer reverence, the need in your kiss. He fixed your fence.

Now you're sat rather awkwardly beside one another, picking at a strange assortment of cheeses and fruits, making stilted conversation as you watch a herd of cows graze a couple of fields down.

"How did you know my fence was broken?" You hum in an absent, obvious attempt to keep the conversation going. Tough considering you barely know anything about Nikto, and yet he seems to know everything about you. Your weak endeavour towards filling the stillness between the two of you obviously doesn't go unnoticed - nor does the way your make an effort to dig deeper and see just how much of you Nikto actually catches.

"You hit it with your car a few weeks ago." He states bluntly, leaving you flushing a beet red. Foolishly, you'd always believed that your sub-par driving skills were just imagined, that no one saw you the way you saw yourself. Clearly, you've been wrong all along.

"You do have your drivers license, yes?" Nikto continues to chide, unable to help the way his blood rushes south when you blush, fluttering your lashes as you avert your gaze to the strawberry you'd been just about to eat. "Mhm." You mumble, trying to feign an indignant look - futile, seeing as he's already caught you in the act of your embarrassment.

"I can help you if you would like." Nikto utters, before he too turns his burning face towards the gingham blanket he'd found whilst trawling the grocery store in the small hours of this morning, trying to be as prepared as possible for your date. He's far too quickly become accustomed to your little quirks and reactions, the way you flinch like a frightened bunny from loud noises, or worry at your lip when you're nervous but still trying to seem nonchalant. You're hardly ever nonchalant about anything. He sees that too. "Is it the car that you struggle with?" He tries, so desperately, to claw himself from the hole he's seemingly fallen into, painfully aware that he's probably coming off as some condescending, patronising prick. He knows you can drive. Kind of. However, the thought of helping you, spending time with you, taking all of the menial tasks of daily life out of your hands, he can't help but to yearn for it. Or maybe it's just you. You're the one thing he finds himself wanting for after a life of solitude. You, your silly little shoes, and strawberry flavoured lips, your bows and pearls. You with a smile so bright it's blinding, and a laugh that could bring the cruelest of men to his knees. You are what he yearns for. The silver lining to the rainclouds which have so long darkened his days. You, you, you.

He doesn't even realise you'd been talking until you stop. Only, of course, to take the next best course of action towards capturing his attention, shuffling towards him until you're sat flush against his side, blinking up at him with a look that clearly suggests that you're asking for permission. The fact that he doesn't get hard right then and there is a miracle - though he's not sure if it's one that'll last. At least, not when you finally work up the guts to crawl up into his lap like a needy cat, searching for attention by any means possible. Last week he was barely refraining from tearing your clothes off and taking you on the counter in your kitchen. This is far more intimate. This is what he wants.

He wants to see the way your cheeks flush pink when his hands slide up your skirt, just enough to brush the calloused pad of his thumb over the delicate lace of your underwear. With bated breath, he wants to watch the way the late afternoon sun turns your hair into a halo of molten metal, cascading from the crown of your head in some glorious inferno.

The little sound of your breath hitching as he noses at your jaw is only the first nail in the cruelest of coffins, burying him alive under the crushing weight of his adoration for you. This, he thinks, this is what he's waited for. This is both his reward, and his punishment for the toil of his career, of his life. His reward, you, so sweet and soft in his lap, pliable as gold, glittering as the brightest of precious stones. Breaking you, breaking your pretty, trusting heart, is entirely out of the question. He'd rather shoot himself in the kneecaps. Walk headfirst into enemy territory and beg to be tortured. Step on a landmine. Any and all of it would be better than seeing you hurt.

Whilst he can't find the words for the way he adored you, he can most definitely find the actions.

Nothing, no man, has ever made you feel the way you do as Nikto eases you to lie back on the picnic blanket, hooking your knees over his shoulders. A kiss to your inner thigh. "I hope you don't mind people hearing, Princess. I intend to make you scream."

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #Nikto #cod nikto #Nikto x reader #nikto x y/n #nikto x f!reader #nikto x you #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #celestialwhoree #say goodnight n go

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 7

Prompt: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / “Is that blood?!”

“Whumpee…” Caretaker mumbles into their phone, squinting at the light-up clock on their nightstand. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hey, Caretaker. Yeah I know. I’m sorry. You just weren’t answering your door. Can you let me in?”

Caretaker sits up at that, wrapping their favorite blanket around their shoulders as they make their way out of their room and towards the door. “What do you mean? You’re at my place?”

Squinting out of the peephole, Caretaker can indeed see Whumpee standing there, dressed in only sweatpants and a black hoodie on a snowy night. Caretaker ends the call and opens the door.

“You idiot. Come inside right now.”

Whumpee’s hood is up, so Caretaker can’t see many of the details of their face, especially with their glasses still on the nightstand where they’d left them. Their face is scarily blank as they stumble inside, leaning heavily on the wall and just barely managing to kick off their soaked sneakers.

“Thanks, Caretaker. You’re the best,” Whumpee says, their words slurred.

Caretaker grabs their glasses as they lead Whumpee into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Then they busy themselves grabbing some clean towels down from the top shelf of their closet - pool towels, stuffed away for winter. Caretaker is in desprete need of doing laundry.

When they turn around and get a good look at Whumpee, they freeze.

“Look, it isn’t as bad as it-”

“Is that blood?!”

Whumpee blinks slowly before they shove their hands into their pockets, but Caretaker had already caught sight of their bruised and bloodied knuckles. “Probably…”

“Take your clothes off.”

Whumpee just stands there, not reacting. Caretaker closes in on them, not wasting time as they start trying to pull Whumpee’s hoodie off.

“Okay okay I’m doing it!” Whumpee groans, weakly shoving Caretaker away. “I can undress myself.”

Caretaker lets go of them with a sigh. Then they look down at their own hands.

Red.

“What happened?” Caretaker asks, their voice carefully even.

It takes too long but Whumpee finishes taking their hoodie off, leaving them in a white undershirt. It hadn’t been easy to see with the black fabric, but the blood stands out starkly now. There’s one spot in particular: a tear in the shirt where the surrounding material is absolutely soaked. Underneath, a glistening blackish-red wound.

“You’re hurt!”

“Huh?”

Whumpee looks down at themselves and they gasp. “Oh my god.”

Caretaker guides Whumpee to sit on the toilet, their hands shaking. They carefully pull Whumpee’s shirt up, revealing a shallow slash.

“Oh, shit,” Whumpee mumbles. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. It doesn’t hurt.”

Caretaker rushes to grab a clean towel and hold it tightly to the injury. “Hold this here. Tight.” Whumpee’s hand twitches but doesn’t take the towel. When Caretaker grabs onto their hand it’s icy cold. “Whumpee what the fuck?” they growl.

“You shoulda seen the other guy…” Whumpee sways slightly and Caretaker catches them awkwardly with their shoulder. 

“I think you’re going into shock or something. Just… hold on, okay? I’m gonna call for help.”

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 7 #bloodied knuckles #“Is that blood?!” #wounded #whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas #injured

[ap1ckl3]

Genre: Smut

Parings: Enemies to lovers BangChan x f!reader

warnings: mature content!! Meandom!BangChan x sub!femreader, LOTS of degrading, mirror sex, pet names such as ‘Princess’ ‘babygirl’ ‘Channie’ and ‘handsome’, namecalling such as ‘slut’ ‘whore’ etc, slight daddy kink if you squint, after care, mentions of cheating, slight possessiveness if you squint, choking, hair pulling, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do this!! Wrap it before you tap it), edging, overstimulation.

ANGRY CHAN HAS MY HEART FR😭🩷😍

No one knows how the two got to this point. I mean they were sworn enemies right? They shouldn't be tangled all up with each other in bed but they were. Let's rewind real quick.

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                                        •

                                      •

You and Chan used to be best friends. Like attached at the hip type of best friends. Until, you took his girlfriend from him a few years ago. That hurt him for many reasons. One because that was his girlfriend and you were his best friend, his girl best friend at that. And that brings me to the second reason, you never came out to him. You never told him you were bisexual which made him just feel horrible. So you two came to the conclusion to be enemies and left it at that. But something in Chan just couldn't let you go. Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room or the way your laugh made his day. That was probably why he wasn't so mad about finding you in bed with his girlfriend. He was more.. jealous. But not of you, his girlfriend. He couldn't take these feelings so he stopped talking to you as much but it wasn't very easy since you guys were in the same friend group.

This brought you two to today. Another argument, a silly one that ended up getting bigger. This time it was about who was in the wrong for a game you all were playing with the group. You guys somehow ended up in BangChan's bedroom as he was hosting a party, yelling at each other. You were leaned up against the wall while Chan was sitting on the bed.

"God you always fucking do this. You're so insensitive and selfish all the fucking time." Chan yelled out at you as he got off the bed, getting slightly more heated at the words that came out of your mouth.

"No, you don't get to say that. Fuck you Christopher." You yelled back as he made his way over to you. You couldn't help the feeling that rushed through you at the angry look on his face while he made his way to you. He didn't say anything as he got closer which just made him more scary but you did a good job at hiding that fact.

"Fucking damn Chris, you're always so sensitive about these things." You mumbled as you looked away, crossing your arms over your chest. You were about to say something else smart when a hand on your neck cut you off, making you choke on your words. You instantly turn to face him, being met with an angry faced BangChan. You didn't know what it was that set him off so much. It could've been your words or the fact that you called him 'Christopher' or he was just tired of hearing your mouth. Whatever it was, his hand around your next had your heart pumping. He tightened his grip against your neck, squeezing just enough to cut some air from you which made you let out a whine, a look of fear flashing in your eyes.

"Say my name like that again. I dare you." His words sounded threatening enough without his hand being around your neck but that little detail just made you squirm. He pushed his body up against yours even more as he stared into your eyes which honestly didn't know where to look. You didn't know where to look because these feelings were just too strong right now. You tried to speak but your words failed you so you swallowed and just stayed quiet.

"What? Too stunned to speak. Cat got your tongue?" He teased as he leaned down closer to you, wasting no time connecting his lips to yours. His actions caused you to gasp softly, letting his tongue slip into your mouth before you finally relaxed a little. Your eyes closed as his hand on your neck brought you closer to him as he kissed you harsher, his other hand resting on your waist as he kept you pinned between him and the wall. Sure you guys were enemies but I mean why not have a small break between that.

Your thoughts were cut short as a knee came up between your thighs, just making you wetter than you already were. You let out a small whine into his mouth as his knee pushed on your core, making him chuckle a little as he pulled away to look at you.

"God you're such a fucking slut. First you go and fuck my girlfriend then you come to me." He paused for a second as a chuckle cut him off, a dark look in his eyes. "You're such a whore and you know it. Now tell me, whose who're are you huh." He degraded which honestly just made you hornier and more needy for him. You tried to speak but only a small whimper left your lips to which he chuckled at again before pulling you off the wall and pushing you onto the bed, making you fall back onto it as he locked the door. You sat up a little with a red tint on your face as he pulled off his shirt. Your eyes locked onto his toned stomach as he got closer to you, pushing your body down onto the soft mattress beneath you. You let out a small moan as his lips connected to your neck in a hurry, not being anywhere near gentle as he sucked and bit down on the sensitive area. You could feel him through his jeans as he slid himself in between your legs which seemed to be shaking in anticipation. His hands slid down your body and eventually made it to the hem of your shirt as he started to push it up before stopping and pulling away from your neck to look at you. No matter how much you thought he hated you, he would at least make sure you were okay with doing this before absolutely ruining you.

"Is this okay?" His whispered softly as he looked down at you, still wanting to make sure this was okay with you before continuing. Once you nodded he wasted no time with pulling your shirt off and throwing it into a random part of his already sort of messy room as he reattached his lips to your body, his target being your collarbone now. His hands worked on unclasping the laced material that kept something he wanted from him. Once the piece of clothing was removed, you felt a shiver go down your spine as his lips attacked the sensitive bud on your right boob while his left hand played with the other, pinching the piece of skin between his fingers which drew lewd sounds from your lips. He hadn't even really touched you and you were already a whiny mess.

He soon moved away from your tits and down your stomach as his hands worked on removing your shorts. He was so impatient it was almost pathetic but the sight of you right now was even more pathetic. Almost humiliating. Once he got your shorts off he threw them on the opposite side of the room from your shirt as he immediately started working on your clit. The feeling of his tongue against your pussy with your panties blocking it felt so weird but good at the same time. He ignored your hand in his hair as he went down on you like a starved man, making you so close in such little time but of course your pride wasn't gonna let you show that.

You didn't even get to have a chance to speak before BangChan pulled away, looking at you with a smug look on his face. Like he was proud of edging you like that. You let out a whine as you looked down at him before saying something that would definitely come back to haunt you.

"Humph, you can't even make me cum." Chan's face changed almost immediately, his eyes turning a darker shade of brown as he practically ripped your panties off and thew them with your other clothes on the floor before pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. He practically manhandled you onto all fours before you felt him slip into you easily with how wet he made you before. Which made all this more exciting yet a little scary. He wasted no time with moving, fucking you at an almost hungry pace as his fingers digged into your hips. The way he fucked you made your head spin as loud moans slipped from your lips, not being able to keep them in. One of his hands moved up to your hair as he pulled on it, his other staying on your hip as he had a cocky smirk on his face as he fucked you. He was making you look at that pathetic look on your face in the large mirror he had beside his bed. Anytime you were forced to come to his house for a get together and snuck off to his room because you were nosy, you've always wondered what this mirror was for. Now you know.

"Look at you. Looking like a pathetic little whore. You're such a slut," He let out a small chuckle as he picked up his pace a little, making you whine out. "but you're my slut. No one else's." He growled into your ear almost possessively as he fucked you harder, making you closer to another orgasm faster since the first one was pulled away from you. His degradation and passiveness made you whine as it was mostly what pushed you to your orgasm. He let out a hiss as he felt the warm liquid surround his sensitive cock. One thing about Chan is that he was either going to overstimulate you or under-stimulate you. That's just how he was as a person.

"God, first you fuck my girlfriend then you fuck me. You just can't get enough huh. Was her pussy not good enough for you? or maybe it was her tongue. You just had to run to me." He hissed in your ear, having no problem with degrading you. It's not like he didn't do this all the time. He would degrade you any chance he got and now that he got to fuck you while doing it was just pure bliss for both of you. You were seeing stars now as he found your g-spot which made you yell out his name, any cockiness or bratty things you had to say earlier were long forgotten as he fucked you like an angry bull. Seeing this passionate side of BangChan was honestly new to you. Even when you guys were best friends he wasn't ever really this passionate. You let out soft whimpers of his name as you felt your body starting to give out. Chan felt this so he let his hand that was on your hip wrap around your waist to keep you up as the other hand pulled you up so your back was to his chest, both bodies being sweaty as the smell of sex filled the room.

"You're not finished yet babygirl, I still haven't gotten to cum yet and that's a problem to me." Chan growled into your ear as his hand on your waist moved down to rub your clit which made you whimper as you laid your head back on his shoulder. As he saw that his movements only got faster as he started to suck and bite at your neck, not knowing how he got this far without cumming yet as you just looked to beautiful so fucked out like this. You felt your body shudder as you got close to another orgasm.

"Fuck Chris, I'm-" you didn't get to finish your sentence as he suddenly stopped moving his hips but not his hand which made you whine.

"Not my name princess, try again then I might let you cum." His pettiness made you whine a little more but you couldn't possibly think of what else to call him before it dawned on you. Now you weren't the type to beg and you both knew that but you were just so in the moment and just wanted to cum so you couldn't help but beg.

"Please daddy, just let me cum.." you whimpered pathetically which made him chuckle as he started to move again, knowing he won this huge argument you two have been having for the past few years. You felt your back arch as he so effortlessly found your g-spot again. You didn't even get to warn him this time as you came again, not being able to help it. He wasn't too far behind you, painting your insides white as he shot his load inside you. He let out a small growl as he pulled out, watching both yours and his cum spill out of you. He planted small kisses to the bruises he made on your neck, in a weird way soothing the skin. You felt your body go limp in his arms—which didn't go unnoticed by him, as he practically fucked you dumb. He cooed at the sight as he picked you up bridal style as he lead you towards his bathroom.

Once the pair made it to the bathroom, he sat you down on the counter as he turned on the shower while waiting for it to get warm. You looked down at your hands that were not sat in your lap as you thought about the events that just occurred. The life changing events that you can't go back on.

"I'm sorry.. for everything.." Your words surprised both you and BangChan as he turned over to look at you in which you had tears in your eyes for whatever reason. In all honesty he really couldn't care less about you fucking his girlfriend. In all honesty he was happy with you for getting rid of her from his life since she was totally chaos and not in a good way. He really didn't even know why he wanted to be your enemy, he was just so in the moment for weeks and he's guessing the feeling just stuck.

"No babygirl, I'm sorry. I've been mad at you for absolutely no reason these past few years. In all honesty I didn't even care that you did that. If anything I was happy. I don't even know why I was mad. All of this was my fault and I should've been more clear with my emotions." BangChan stated as he cupped your face in his hands, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks. You couldn't help but feel flustered at his touch and you nodded at his words.

"So this all means you forgive me?" You mumbled as you looked at him, hoping that this did mean exactly what you thought. Your eyes lit up as he nodded which made him chuckle a little, falling in love with you more every time you looked at him. He's been ignoring his feelings for long and being able to express them today was a huge stress reliever for him. He looked over at the bath, noticing it was halfway full which was a good place to stop it had so he did and picked you up again, placing you down in the bath before getting in behind you and making sure you were comfortable.

After he was done taking care of you and himself, he dried you both off and dressed you in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers since he kind of ripped your panties. He was trying not to get hard again from the sight of you in his clothes but it was hard since you just looked so beautiful. He laid you down in his bed again as he got comfortable with you, laying your head on his chest as he held you close to him like he was afraid of letting go. You were drawing shapes on his bare chest in comfortable silence before he spoke up.

"Y/n... I think I'm.. I think I'm in love with you.." he mumbled as his lips pressed against your soft hair. You had a red tint on your face after hearing his words and a soft smile.

"I love you too Channie.." you mumbled against his skin as you pressed a chaste kiss to his chest which made him chuckle a little. God how you missed that chuckle. You then pulled back to look at him with puppy eyes.

"Does this mean we're a thing now? Or was this just a one time thing. Because if so then we can really just-" Hearing what you were talking about and seeing the excitement drain from your eyes is what caused Chan to place a kiss to your lips to stop you from talking. That surprised you a little bit you eventually gave in and kissed him back. He pulled away after a while before pulling your head to your chest, resting his chin on your head.

"Of course we are silly. You're all mine now.." he mumbled which made you smile as your eyes closed, falling asleep on the chest of someone you knew you loved dearly...

BONUS

You woke up slightly after Chan did, being met with his beautiful brown eyes just admiring your beautiful face. Once he noticed he was caught he turned red as a small smile appeared on both of your faces. You leaned up and placed a soft kiss to his nose in which he returned the favor by kissing your knuckles before intertwining your fingers.

"Good morning princess.." he mumbles, his morning voice sounding raspy and a bit deep as he smiled down at your flustered face.

" 'morning handsome.." you mumble as you just admired his features. It was hard to not think he was handsome. He let out a small chuckle as he pulled you close to him. He then let out a groan at remembering he had to clean up after last night. He would rather get it done as soon as possible than just leaving his place trashed. He leaned down and placed a kiss to your forehead before sitting up which made you whine a little.

"Where are you going.." you mumbled in a tired voice as you looked up at him with tired eyes. He let out a chuckle at your expression. It was like a switch flipped with your guys' relationship. What used to be constant fighting turned into pure love and admiration.

"I'm going to clean, I'll be back as soon as I'm finished love. Just rest here." He told you before getting out the bed and making his way out his room. You huffed a little before hearing a ding on your phone. You furrowed your eyebrows as you rolled over to grab it as it was on the charger. Chan must've done that last night after you fell asleep. That small gesture made you feel all giddy inside. You checked your phone to see notifications from your friend group chat.

MinHOE😍: now now now.. y/nnie, don’t you have something to tell us?

Drama Queen👑🎀: ooooh, some tea??☕️

Y/N🎀: what are you talking about??

MinHOE😍: yk from last night😏

Outtie😚🩷: WAIT NO WAY. WHO’D SHE FUCK IN CHANNIE HYUNGS HOUSE???

Y/N🎀: Minnie please we can talk about this😭

Babygirl🎀: what do me and Minho get for being quiet about this??

Y/N🎀: HAN JISUNG AND LEE MINHO PLEASE ILL DO ANYTHING🙏🏽😭😭

Fried chicken☺️🐥: yk now I’m very curious. Please do tell hyung.

MinHOE😍: so the old man and this lil girl right here did a lil sum last night..

Y/N🎀:MINHO PLEASE😭 I SWEAR ILL TAKE YOUR PUDDING

MinHOE😍: you better not. I’ll do you like Hyunjin and shove a bunch of tissues in your mouth until you suffocate.

Minnie👇🏼the🏢: Oop-

A bitch named Chris🖕🏼: stop fucking threatening my girlfriend.

Best rapper (lies👎🏽): IM SORRY GIRLFRIEND??

Outtie😚🩷: WHATTTTTTTTTTT

Drama Queen👑🎀: OML PLOT TWIST OF THE CENTURY

Minnie👇🏼the🏢: I KNEW IT. THE WAY THEY ARGUED WAS TOO TENSION FILLED FOR THEM TO NOT BE IN LOVE

Y/N🎀: Channie!! I thought you weren’t gonna tell them😔

A bitch named Chris🖕🏼: I think I’ve made it pretty clear who you belonged to last night. Plus they were gonna find out anyways.

Babygirl🎀: okay lovebirds🙄

You couldn’t help but smile a little as Chan’s text really sunk in. You just turned off your phone, ignoring the shock from your friends as you nuzzled into BangChan’s blanket, knowing you found your new favorite smell..

•

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A/N: so… this took me about three days to write because I kept getting distracted and just didn’t feel like finishing what I was writing so 👍🏽. Also, I will be posting this on both tumbler and Wattpad. Also will be taking requests!!

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #straykids imagines #kpop smut #kpop x reader #skz x female reader #kpop x fem reader #wh1mp

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Baldur's Gate #2

Demographics of the Western Heartlands

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

The City #1 | Demographics | Administration & Government | ??? - WIP

A sort of overview of how people fit into the region. When I say "Baldur's Gate is a human city" I am not overexaggerating.

So: detailing the five main human groups of the region: the elves would rather stay in Evereska, thanks; the half-elves would rather not stay in Evereska: the halflings are cheerfully exploiting the local adventurers; the gnomes mind their own business; the dwarves have a local history that's just the world hitting them with sticks; and for some reason the Hells have it out for the Western Heartlands, and tieflings are resented for being a reminder. (And the occasional half-orc and dragonborn is there too, I guess.)

-

While the exact percentages may have shifted up or down somewhat over the course of events at the end of the Era of Upheaval and so on, they're still a pretty solid idea of what to expect from the Western Heartlands, and thus Baldur's Gate as the largest population centre (it's also where the most diversity is, being the only major port city for miles).

The breakdown is:

78% Human 7% Elven 4% Half-elven 3% Halfling 2% Gnome 1% Dwarf 1% "Other" [Tiefling, Half-orc, Dragonborn]

-

So 78% of the entire population of the Western Heartlands is human; consisting mostly of five ethnic groups. These groups being defined by their shared inherited cultural norms and genetics across Faerûn. Chondathan culture heavily shapes Baldur's Gate.

80% of these humans are Tethyrian [melting pot of cultures and genetics, predominantly Calishite and Chondathan by ancestry. By average: brown skin; black hair; blue eyes (northern) or brown eyes (southern). Their primary ancestors were the native people of the lands that became Tethyr and Calmishan who have dark brown skin, but lighter skin can become more commonly seen northwards, where Netherese and Illuskan genetics enter the mix]. In the Western Heartlands - they mostly follow Chondathan cultural norms. They have a history of being colonised and enslaved (largely by Calimshan), value freedom and community above all else; slavery is the pinnacle of evil. They have a strong bardic tradition due to relying on oral lore and song to keep their histories and what remains of their distinct culture alive (the majority of their cultural norms will be determined by the dominant culture they've mixed with). The average Tethyrian is raised to mistrust authorities with more jurisdiction than a city state (kingdoms and empires = bad). -

10% are Calishite [dark brown skin; black hair; dark brown eyes. Tend to be short. Due to genie ancestry, most genasi are Calishite]. The percentage is probably higher in the 15th century, due to a wave of refugees. The ancestors of the Calishites were slaves of genies who came to Toril, set up their empires, annoyed the local elves and got wiped off the map and left the humans to inherit their master's empire. Calimshan is one of the oldest human empires still standing, and they're very proud of this fact. They value reputation above all else (personal and family, both highly interconnected) which is basically a form of social currency. Very strict social divides: Class matters, traditionally they're patriarchal and gender roles are strict, marriage is important and the father determines social class (only women may marry "above their station"). In recent history, a return of the ruling djinn and efreeti led to a lot of war and destruction in Calimshan, sending a wave of refugees into the world. Most of those refugees live seperate from the main city in "Little Calimshan" in the Outer City. Said war has recently ended, due to the actions of a Chosen of Ilmater, and many Calishites in Baldur's Gate are considering returning home (especially because there is considerable friction between the refugees and the locals). Sorcery is a common occurance, and Calishites have a strong arcane and divine tradition. -

5% are Chondathan ["tawny" brown skin; light brown to black hair; brown or green eyes. Tend to be tall]. Their ancestors started off as warriors, whose many wars led to them destroying an elven city and a retaliatory tidal wave that eventually led them to discover that trade worked better for them (this did not stop them pissing off elves everywhere they went), they did such a good job that they dominated Central Faerûn through mercentile skill, and Chondathan culture (i.e. language, the Thorass alphabet and such) is a major influence pretty much all over Faerûn. Typically Chondathans have adapted quickly and peaceful to the norms and laws of other peoples, and a Baldurian, Cormyrian and a Sembian will not be perfectly interchangable. Still they will often have shared values: Violence is tacky and counterproductive. a reputation for honesty is paramount and breaking your word is taboo. Tend to be cat people, with a strong appreciation for tressyms. They value hard work, industry and admire wealth (which is power and evidence of a good work ethic). Social standing is determined by money and influence. Class divides don't tend to be rigid, and it's generally believed that hard work should open doors. You start work at 12 (apprenticeships) and if you're able bodied you will be shamed for "not pulling your weight". The elderly tend to hang around after retirement and tutor the next generation. They have little in the way of magical traditions, or interest in it. -

3% are Illuskan [pale skin; blonde, red or black hair; blue or grey eyes. Tend to be very tall]. Rarely found outside of the North (including the Sword Coast North, across the border), most Illuskan cultures are tribes and settlements on the frontiers. They value courage, battle prowess and survival and haven't been as successful in the larger world because they tend to prefer war and raids to trade. Larger civilisation hinders growth and encourages weakness and dependency, and is largely shunned. The rest of the world considers them "no better than orcs" and the Illuskans think the rest of the world are a bunch of cowards unworthy of respect. Not being able to be the warrior hero of some kind of epic tale (or being bold enough to aspire to be) is not necessarily a thing to be ashamed of that you will be mistreated for, but you won't be given any respect past basic courtesy either. Magic is not infrequent amongst Illuskans, due to Netherese ancestry, but it is mistrusted due to the history of the Arcane Brotherhood of Luskan, who are evil bastards. Religion is eh. Illuskans generally only have uses for gods who serve a practical purpose (so appeasing the gods of fury (such as Auril and Umberlee) and Talos, god of war). -

1% consists of the Gur [brown skin; thick, straight black hair; dark brown eyes. Tend to be hirsute and short, but "stocky"] The ancestors of the Gur were Rashemi, a people they still strongly resemble, physically. The modern people feel no kinship with their distant kin though. They're mostly nomads, but some Gur can be found permanently settled in the slums of cities like Baldur's Gate and Elturel, where they're treated as subhuman. Their patron deity is Selûne: protector of travellers and outcasts, and a patron of diviners, which the Gur practice for protection and aid in navigation (as such they also worship Savras, god of truth and fate, patron god of divination). Amongst their own the Gur speak a unique dialect of Rashemi that no outsiders are privy to. There's not a lot on the Gur, but if they share any cultural norms with the Rashemi, it might be something like this: The Rashemi value personal skill/strength (in whatever form that takes) and achievements, and scorn the concept of inherited (unearned) titles and wealth. They also value the wellbeing of the land itself, to which they show respect. While they don't shun work, they don't live for it either; the youth are often found carousing loudly with their friends, and while the adults are expected to contribute to society, they also enjoy a good time. Children are subject to tests as they mature, and elders are afforded great respect for their experience and the challenges they have overcome in reaching their age. Interestingly, Rashemi expats also have a reputation for being "nuisances" outside of Rashemen: many struggle with culture shock, and the stereotype is that they will get drunk and wander around picking fights everywhere (the Rashemar norm of challenging others to help them and you improve comes across as aggression to outsiders). -

The remaining 1% is a mixture of the many, many, many different humans on Toril. This canonically includes one of Faerûn's only Maztican communities, consisting of the Nexala people living in Baldur's Gate (I think they drew inspiration from the Mexica?) and there appears to include a Kozakuran (Japanese fantasy counterpart) minority. TSR's decision to start creating fantasy world counterparts to real world cultures for "exotic" expansions is... hmm, contentious, and I don't know enough about the real world counterparts to know if I'm handling it well, so I'm not going further into that.

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7% of the population of the Western Heartlands is elves, making up the largest non-human population of the region.

It's mostly moon elves [fair skin, often seen in literal white hues likened to alabaster and marble, with tinges of blue; white, silver (like the metal, not grey) or black hair; eyes always flecked with gold] and wood elves [copper brown skin, tinged with green; blonde, red, brown or black hair; brown or green eyes. Metallic sheen to hair and skin.] Some sun elves returned to Faerûn in the mid-1300s [gold, bronze or amber skin; blonde, red or black hair; golden brown, green or black eyes. Metallic sheen to hair and skin.] (both moon elves and sun elves are categorised as "high elves", in BG3 mechanical parlance). Moon elves are individualistic and have a reputation for flightiness, thrill-seeking and hedonism. Sun elves are conservative, more observant of social hierarchies, have a strong cultural focus on magic (divine and arcane both) and extremely wary of humans due to historical conflict and human expansion into (now lost) elven lands. Wood elves are known for their open mindedness towards non-elves and many hope for elves to live fully amongst the non-elves one day, but due to their nature-oriented spirituality and way of life they rarely venture into human civilisation and are usually highly uncomfortable there. When compared to the percentages of other demihumans in the area, the elven population seems very high, though that 7% accounts for Evereska, the last major bastion of elven civilisation on Faerûn. Although apparently the elves are trying to rebuild Myth Drannor yet again, and good luck with making that stick. While elves do make up the largest non-human minority group in Baldur's Gate, the vast majority of that 7% traditionally remains in Evereska and refuses to leave their homeland's borders, and of those that leave it's almost entirely moon elves, who are the most likely to assimilate into human culture. A minority of wood elves might be able to get comfortable in cities. Your average sun elf, to whom preservation of elven culture is a sacred duty given by Corellon him/herself, would be horrified by the concept of assimilating into the N'Quess, and any that aren't are going to be under immense social pressure from their house/clan to come home and conform (especially because there's a chance that their family may view humans as dangerous). That said, the flightiness of youth can generally be forgiven (they'll grow out of it). Most encountered are young adventurers under 100 years old and semi-nomadic family groups of moon elves who wander between human settlements as their whims (and/or the mercantile work of their clan/house) takes them. Older elves are unlikely to be found in Baldur's Gate in high numbers, as the rapid, demanding pace of the metropolis clashes badly with the "take your time" philosophies and lifespan of elves. A few families of sun elves also established themselves in the minor human cities of Iriaebor and Berdusk, further South East, after returning from the Retreat.

- 4% of the population is half-elven, almost entirely of moon elven descent, and, on the human side, likely to be of Tethyrian ancestry.

It's likely most are found in human cities, even if they weren't already born there. The noble houses of Evereska have traditionally been extremely xenophobic (even the elven commoner clans were considered beneath them), and the only non-elves permitted entry for most of Evereska's existence have been Harpers: the opportunities for half-elves to be born within the realm have been fewer that otherwise. Human civilisations also saw an influx of half-elven immigration during the late 14th century - albeit most moved North - when the Spellplague caused Evereska and the Feywild to merge slightly, and an increase in xenophobic attitudes made many feel unwelcome.

- 3% is halfling, almost entirely lightfoot [very, very wide genetic pool. The hin have moved around enough that no features or colouration has become a norm for an entire geographic population.]

Lightfoot halflings - or hin, amongst themselves - are pretty much all over Faerûn, having made themselves comfortable and unobtrusive living alongside humans. They mostly assimilate into human cultures, though there is still a focus on clan and family. There is a small village in the region called Gullykin, which mostly keeps to itself and profits from its brewery (which also happens to be the temple of Yondalla). They also cheerfully make a side profit off of the frequent adventuring parties who use the village as a rest stop while exploring the nearby ruins (Durlag's Tower and the Firewine Ruins). The locals have no interest in the ruins themselves, considering Firewine particularly cursed, and pride themselves in being as peacefully boring as they possibly can.

- 2% consists of gnomes, almost entirely rock gnomes [brown skin; white hair; no information given on eye colour, although "glittering black" has been used as a descriptor.]

Gnomes prefer to stay well hidden, in secret villages scattered around the world and unseen by outsiders, but a minority are drawn to Baldur's Gate. Rock gnomes split their time and focus between their career (usually craft of some sort, and rock gnome working environments are known for their very relaxed, friendly atmospheres) and partying.

- 1% consists of dwarves, shield dwarves [pale to light brown skin; dark hair; blue eyes] and gold dwarves [light to dark brown skin with a reddish hue; black, grey or brown hair; brown or hazel eyes]. Exact numbers aren't given, but as, historically, the shield dwarves almost went extinct due to wars where the gold dwarven numbers reached such levels of overpopulation in the Great Rift during the Thunder Blessing of 1306 DR that many were forced to migrate in droves, I would assume that it's either, like, a 50/50 split, or the gold dwarven population is the higher one.

Gold dwarves put their success and survival down to adherence to dwarven ways of life and are staunch traditionalists, cleaving to family, clan and faith: Dwarven history being characterised by the loss of homeland after homeland, they are very keen to ensure that their way of life survives. They have a bad history with the various inhabitants of the Underdark (especially drow). Shield dwarves have been in the area the longest. They have lost many of their homelands in the North to orc invasions and the expansion of humanity in their subsequent weakened state. Those found in the Western Heartlands belong to a subdivision called the Wanderers; dwarves who after the loss of their ancestral homes took to a more nomadic life, making a living as mercenaries and crafters in the settlements of other races. Many may have non-dwarven ancestry, as shield dwarves started intermarrying to bolster their numbers due to wars and an infertility crisis rendering their population dangerously low - non-dwarven ancestry is mostly humans and gnomes, though some hin and elven blood can be found. The same traditions their gold dwarven kin hold to exist in shield dwarven culture, but due to the pressures of survival many traditions are looser or have fallen by the wayside. The most successful dwarves are presumably the Shattershield clan, who settled in Baldur's Gate at the time of the city's origin and became the Gate's sole non-human Patriar family. There have been attempts to create new homelands in the Western Heartlands, and all of them met with disaster. The town of Kanaglym, established in 722 DR eventually discovered that they'd accidentally found a portal to the Fugue Plane in the town well. The half-dwarven adventurer Daeros Dragonspear established Dragonspear Castle aboveground, over the town's location in 1255 DR, creating a safe haven for the dwarven people that was also guarded by Daeros' copper dragon companion Halatathlaer, who had a lair nearby. Then a mage, seeking the dwarves' wealth, decided to embark on a complicated plot, of which the most relevant step was opening a portal to Avernus and tricking Daeros to walk into it, and also destroying the castle with an invasion of dragons. A dwarf by the name of Durlag Trollkiller also established a home for his clan (Durlag's Tower) at some unknown date, and that was later annihilated by an infiltration of doppelgangers and mind flayers. The Orothiar clan settled in the Cloakwood, however they were forced to abandon their clanhold when a mine wall was accidentally breached: the river flooded their home, and wiped out most of their people, bar a few survivors.

- 1% covers everybody else. Hobgoblins, gnolls, goblins, kobolds and such will make up the majority of this category; the recently established Yuan-ti kingdom of Najara has also joined this percentage; with a minority of half-orcs (orcs are not really found in the Western Heartlands, the nearest are mountain orcs in the North), and then a smaller handful of planetouched (tieflings, genasi, aasimar (mostly tieflings and genasi)) and dragonborn left over.

While generally not popular anywhere, tieflings are particularly mistrusted in the Western Heartlands. They're associated with the Dragonspear Wars - the first of which took place in 1356 DR - where Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate went to war with the invading forces of Avernus (coming from portals set up in the eponymous Dragonspear Castle). There was another invasion in 1363 DR. Then that time Mephistopheles invaded Waterdeep in 1372 with the intention of conquering Toril and turning it into the tenth layer of hell probably didn't help their reputation either. Nor the fey'ri invasion of Evereska in 1374 DR. Nor did the Elturel incident... It's not unlikely that there are a fair few people with dormant infernal blood in their veins, but the tiefling population isn't likely to see much growth, as the birth of a tiefling child to human parents is not infrequently met with panic and infanticide.

There's nothing I can really find on half-orcs, but I would imagine most are of mountain orc and Illuskan heritage, and they or their ancestor/s migrated from the North.

I'd hazard a guess that the entire dragonborn population of Baldur's Gate - possibly the entire region - can be seen in-game. They have no history in the area that I know of.

#idk but this post makes me feel like anxiety vomiting... #fyi WYLL IS THE MOST ACCURATE FR CHARACTER IN THIS GAME FOR A MULTITUDE OF REASONS including his speech patterns #Dude actually *sounds* like he lives here #god that took a while #There were so many sources and I'm concerned I didn't double check enough and aaaaaaaaaaaaa #The good news is that I'm too tired to be yelling now #lore stuff #long post

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

The generational abuse in Moral Orel

I literally watched this show a few weeks ago and made it my whole entire personality lol

So one of my favorite messages in Moral Orel is defiently based on how having kids when you are still dealing/repressing trauma is never a good idea because you will eventually pass on that trauma to your kids, with or without intention.

I mean, besides the absolutely beautiful lesson about how family shouldn't be something made out of obligation but out of love, the latter message sticks out to me quite a lot.

For starters we have Bloberta and Clay, In the outsiders eyes they may seem like the best parents ever, but as a viewer, we are aware of how god awful they are at parenting.

Blorberta reduces her responsabiltiy as a mother to cooking, cleaning, and briefly attending to her childrens physcial needs.

She is barley attentive to her childrens emotional needs and always ignores them and tries to brush off their emotions to feel better about her own self.

Another thing is that although shes physically there, she isn't actievely present in her childrens lives and is always in the background.

Orel never goes to her for guidance, and although that could be rooted in misogony another main reason is because she dismisses Orel constantly, telling him to go tell father or to go pray to God instead because shes busy cleaning.

Orel naturally has heavily been accostumed to not go to his mother for help unless it deals with food, clothes or messy rooms.

Then theres Shapey, who is obviously heavily neglected. His "bad" behaviors are manifested because of that constant negligence, she never once taught him anything and she will never bother to do so.

Shes always throwing Shapey around to Orel, making Orel the responsible one for Shapeys un-ethical behavior instead of realizing the reason he acts this way is because of the lack of an adult authoritive figure.

Most of her interaction with her kids are based on her giving them lunches, cleaning their room or when she lightly reprimands her kids when they get in the way of her cleaning.

Bloberta is a cold, cruel and emotionally distant mother...but why is that exactly?

Well, we can sort of blame the enviorment around her. Women in society, especially in a very religious society, are only respected when they are seen as "useful".

In Moralton, its clear that a womans worth is based on their usefulness for the people around them, ESPECIALLY their husbands and kids.

This very warped viewed on womanhood caused Bloberta to believe that the only right way to be a mother is just to be helpful enough in a physcial way, she never learned about the importance of emotionally nurturing her kids because in her eyes, thats the own kids job to do.

But the enviorment around her wasn't the only reason as to why shes a god awful parent, lets take a look at her family background.

Bloberta grew up with 3 siblings, and for some reason, her mother considered Bloberta to have an unimportant and neutral role in the family.

In turn, Bloberta felt useless, unloved and unwanted. The only person in the family who tried to help Bloberta was her dad, but even he couldn't stomach connecting with her unless he was drunk enough to do so.

So anyways, she's dealing with all this internalized urge to be of use in her own house.

Her decision to settle down with Clay was flat out obviously not out of love, but out of a need to be percieved as wanted.

It was both for her own personal need and to finally succeed in societal image's standards.

She also seems to be someone who cares a whole lot about her looks. She cares about them to the point she doesn't let anyone see her messy hair, baggy eyes, and lack of makeup. Including her own family.

She doesn't feel comfortable enough to show her true self to her own family. She keeps up an image even with her own blood.

Clay obviously never loved her from the beggining so she starts looking for external love aswell.

Which is why she cheats on Clay with Danielle and seeks sexual attention from Dr. Potters Wheel.

So all in all, she is basically seen as an extention to her husband and kids, which causes her to feel well...numb.

This numbness eventually is what makes her to start actively self harm. She feels absolutely nothing for her husband and kids besides this socital need to be seen as a good wife and mother.

One can argue that she does care for her kids, but it's not deep care, it's out of duty.

Although Orel can be naive, he does subconciously take in that her mother is never there in his personal life. In the episode "movie primere" Bloberta is only mentioned twice, because she has never tried to gain any type of connection with her kids.

Orel also admits that Stephanie (a peeson he JUST met) radiates more kindness than his own mother.

The reason she never reached out for her kids in an emotional sense was because no one ever did that with her as a kid, she doesn't know how to do it, she doesn't know how to deal with her own kids emotional needs because she herself has a looot of repressed urges and stress.

She doesn't bother to deal with her childrens pain because shes too busy trying to repress her own.

So thats the reason Bloberta is a god awful mother... Is it justified? Of course fucking not!!! But its totally okay to be able to sympathize and understand her.

Now we have Clay... Boy this is going to be a ride.

Also Clay's parenting towards Shapey and doesn't fully count, they aren't actually his kids. Is the way he neglects Shapey okay? Hell no but we can't expect him to care for him when he struggles to be attentive to his actual son.

Unlike Bloberta, Clay is way more present in Orel's life than she ever is, and although this should be considered a good thing, theres many factors that say the contrary.

Orel's almost-instict reaction when he wants advice is "gee... I have to ask dad!" that includes even asking him during unreasonable times, for example, when hes sleeping or when it's waaay to early in the morning.

This gives us an understanding that Orel trusts his father to guide him.

Without context, that's the sweetest thing ever until we realize Clay constantly spanks, gives hypocritcal lectures and constantly tries to drain the natural curiosity in Orel.

His way of connection through Orel is through scolding him, through reprimanding him and through physical abuse (well—Clay doesn't consider it physcial abuse but we all know damm well that it is).

He sometimes gives little pats in the head or puts his hands on his shoulder as a small way of normal parental physical reassurance but thats about it.

As for emotional reassurance, it's very scarce.

Clay avoids any external conversations with his child unless it involved any sort of scolding or hypocritcal lessons.

He once openly admits he loves Orel but it was worded pretty interesting: "Oh Orel, I could never love you more! People only have a certain amount of love in them and im afraid I have to divide mine up between atleast a dozen people.... But remember son, I love you enough."

His argument here is that he loves too many people so he can't spend it all on Orel, but the true reason he can't fully love Orel is a much more sinister reason.

Let's talk about Clay's background shall we?

Clay grew up for 12 years very pampered by his mother. His father was much more stern and lacked much warmth but he still tried to be present for his son.

His mother made Clay believe that he was the most precious thing to her, until later Clay starts finding out about his mothers multiple miscarriages which causes him to have a full existencial crisis.

He wouldn't have existed if it weren't for the previous miscarriages.

This causes Clay to pull a really childishly cruel prank where he plays dead to worry his mother and father.

What Clay expected from this prank was to be reassured that no matter the previous miscarriages, he will always be loved by his mother the most.

Well... Lets just summarize that Clays mothet has a weak heart and in turn died of shook.

Ever since that incident his father blamed Clay for the death of his mother.

Arthur (clays dad) would hit him, and Clay started to view that as affection because thats the only fatherly acknwoledgement Clay ever got to know.

So Clay would purpously rile his father up so that he can hit him and give him the desperate fatherly attention he craved.

But Arthur noticed this, and instead of realizing how much he's fucked up his own childs perception of love, he completely stops paying attention to Clay, basically disowning him without ever kicking him out of the house.

So now we understand why Clay connects with his son through physical abuse, right? This was the only fatherly attention he ever got as a kid and he doesn't know what else he can do to show his kid love since he never got it himself.

And although this is an unpopular opinion, Clay really was trying to put an effort into being a good father. In "beforel Orel" he didn't talk to Orel because he was nervous about his parenting.

It was until he faced his father again which gave him the outmost confidence to parent Orel in a way that his own father never did.

His parenting skills are obviously the worst though lol.

Orel may have loved his father, but his subconcious feared him.

One time when Orel made a stopmotion he drew Clay as a scary wolf saying that his dad was made as a dog because "he's loyal and good." Orel understandably feared his father, I mean the only way he properly interacted with him was through his father hitting and scolding him.

Now, something important to consider is that Clay never wanted to get married, he confirms this in the episode of season 3 "help". He got manipulated in a marriage with Bloberta and it was too late to pull back.

His horrible marriage with Bloberta aswell as being tied to a family and job that he didn't actually want start to make him extremely miserable.

Which causes him to drown out all his pain with alcohol.

But funnily enough, alcohol only worsens his pain more.

In the nature p1 AND p2 episodes, we realize how much alcohol Clay consumes, which is honestly really disturbing.

So basically in those episodes, Clay takes Orel to a haunting trip, trying to continue the Puppington tradition (funnily enough, that tradition was cut short after Clay's mothers death).

Orel being a normal child, wasn't really keen on killing animals, so he was already quite nervous about the hunting trip.

When they arrive to the reserve, Clay is drinking and he doesn't stop, each time he drinks out of frustration that Orel hasn't killed any animal.

Orel gives up and doesn't kill anything, telling Clay that he isn't comfortable hunting with his him. He then proceeds to call him "too drunk" which in return makes Clay mad.

Clay proceeds to call Orel as pessimist by saying his cup is always half empty, which is ironic considering Orel is naturally one of the most positive characters in the whole series.

He then goes onto a rambling, confusing bright with "blight" and then admiting his own life is truly full of blight, he starts crying and then says how he hates himself.

Orel starts tearing up himself, never expecting to see his dad in such a state.

The bottle in his hands start yelling at him "WHY DO YOU QUIT WORKING ON ME?" implying that Clay would expect the alcohol to drown out the pain but instead amplifies it more.

He then starts rambling again, he is quite literally talking about women and how they force you into something you don't want and "squeeze things out of you."

I think the "women" he's proyecting on is defiently Bloberta. He didn't want a marriage, but he was manipulated and obligated into one anyway, and then public image caused them to force themselves into having a child.

Clay didn't want that, he didn't want to be tied down this way. He expected that having a family could make him feel alright, but that eventually quit "working on him" because it wasn't what he evidently needed.

His rant on women can also tie down to his own repressed homosexuality, which makes this all too sad.

Later on, Clay foolishly starts handeling his gun with no safety on and accidently shoots Orel in the leg.

Instead of apologizing he asks "what have you done?" and Orel responds "I got shot by you..." his passive sentence here gives us an understanding that he is still processing that his own dad shot him.

When Clay opens the first aid kit, he sees the rubbing alcohol and drinks it up instead of applying it on his son, which causes Orel to finally say "I hate you."

This was Orels moment of realization.

Clay being drunk and obviously dismissive of the power of Orel's words just brushes it off by saying "Hate away, sister. Hate away."

When Clay sobers up the next morning, he completely acts as if he didn't shot his son, not wanting to accept he hurt his son that way aswell as not wanting to accept the blame.

Orel also lied to Clay that day, telling him that Clay shoot the bear and not Orel himself, because he didn't feel like his dad was someone worth making proud. He wasn't worth it.

When they return home, Orel has a conversation with his mother asking her why she married dad in which Bloberta responds "why not?"

This has been Blorberta's whole thinking process ever since she met Clay, "he's an attractive man and I have to marry soon to prove my worth so why not?"

She never choose Clay out of love, but out of mere obligation and pressure.

When Orel tells her mom that when Clay drinks he changes, Bloberta finally confirms to Orel that he doesn't change, that its just his true nature coming out.

All those repressed emotions, toxic masculinity, societal pressure, labor stress, awful marriage, and the crumbling of his perfect image.

Thats Clay's true nature, how he feels about himself and how he deals with it is what makes him who he is.

Afterwards, we have an amazing episode called "Sacrifice".

This episode is the most self-awarness we will ever get from Clay.

So this takes place literally after the haunting trip, Clay overhears the previous conversation between Blorberta and Orel.

He then also finds out his wife has been desiring Dr. Potters Wheel. So he decides to drown all that out by going to a bar.

In this episode, Clay kickstarts into a series of alcohol induced rants.

He initally focuses on the term sacrifice, feeling as if he's sacrificing his own happiness for his kids.

Clay thinks that by economically supporting and lecturing his kids is enough to give them satisfaction. It's a really hypocritcal rant because although he does mantain the whole family, he also made his family life miserable by keeping his awful marriage with Bloberta and drinking alchol to drown his sorrows.

Aftee a whole series of events unfold...Clay's monolouge gets deep.

"maybe there was a jerkoff called Darwin after all and that you never acknowledged his existence, because you knew deep inside that you were really what you feared you were: Weak, and passive, and ultimately broken by the ones who were made the fittest. And then through your weaknesses you built up a poison, that poisoned others around you... That you love..."

He then starts tearing up when he says that, unable to truly finish the sentence. He ultimately knows that he destroyed a dynamic with the only person in the family that genuienly loved him.

He feels hurt, he feels torn, but the guilt won't make the bullet hole go away (literally).

I also have to mention that Clay wss desperately trying to poke at the people who were in the bar, expecting them to beat him up. He wanted to be beat up, to be proven that he is worth it, Clay used to measure his wortfulness over how well he parented Orel. But after the incident, he can't even feel slightly worth it, thats why he needs to be proven by others that he is.

But everyone leaves him alone, because he truly isn't worth it anymore. And he knows it.

It is also implied by Orel that Clay has hid away in his study for 6 months. He stayed away from Orel out of personal disgust and guilt, but refussing to change and take responsibility.

During Honor, we see Orel desperately trying to find a way to still honor his father, so reverend putty tells him to go to talk to someone who truly loves his dad to find out the reasoning behind it.

Orel then goes to Danielle.

Now Danielle was actually upset with Clay because he saw him kissing Censordoll.

He was hurt because well, he loves Clay and Clay would rather get physical with another woman for buisness issues over giving Danielle the actual love he feels for him. (once again, repressed homosexuality!!!)

Orel and Danielle basically hang out throughout the whole day, which causes Clay great jealousy and discomfort.

He then drags Bloberta and his two illegilimate kids to Danielle's home.

He burts through Danielle's door and tells him to stay away from Orel because.... "he's not yours I am."

Cats out of the bag now, am I right folks?

Sadly, thats not the case.

He immedietly brushes off what he said and hugs Orel, looking lovingly into Danielle's eyes.

"Oh how I miss you... Orel"

"I need you in my life... Orel"

"and I..."

He then pushes Orel away and walks towards Danielle, repeating "I love you" mulitple times but ends the last "I love you" with Orel's name. Still trying to shield his very obvious declaration of love.

Danielle was the only person that Clay actually loved that didn't involve manipulation, obligation, or mommy issues.

But of course, he screwed it up. It was too late.

Clay deprived himself of the arguably healthiest love he would ever have.

After this episode, we get a beautiful time skip

The time skip includes Orel finally marrying Christina.

Christina is someone that Morelton looks down upon because of her differing beliefs.

But Orel gives a damn about image, he loved Christina as a kid and always has.

In turn of marrying someone he truly loves, he had children he truly wanted with her.

Like the Reverend said "family is sometimes a group of people that are forced to live together but every so often, a miracle happens."

The miracle was Orel choosing his own life without the need of societal pressure. Orel genuienly marrying for love.

In the end scene, we see all the happy kids sitting with Orel while Christina sits next to him.

And in the back we see Clay and Blorberta, who grew old together and never divorced.

They are miserable and will always be miserable.

Orel, however? He learned not to follow into their footsteps.

He broke the chain. And I admire his braveness.

#Moral orel #Orel #Moralton #Clay puppington #orel puppington #bloberta puppington #shapey puppington #Block plausible #Adult swim #Show rants #I probably left out so many other details #But I covered what I could!! #Enjoy reading lol

[bluebudgie]

Alright gw2 peeps, here's one for all of you with a lot of alts:

All your characters of the same class (e.g. all your rangers) are stuck together in an escape room.

Which of your "class groups" is off the worst and who gets the job done with no problem?

#edit: yall did this way more detailed than my word salad so lemme redo this class by class as well: #eles: not awful. overall a relatively cooperative group despite very differing personalities. #wouldnt be the fastest in finding the solutions but definitely are getting out of there without casualties or other damages #necros: shit tier dynamics. hostile charr that wants to be left alone vs. volatile chak madman vs. way too gentle sylvari plant #communication would NOT go well but they would make it out (neljje contributes NOTHING to this) #mesmers: nightmare courtier who is out to be as destructive on purpose as possible vs. just some guy vs. tvekks (enough said) #tvekks will suffer but they'll probably make it out. maybe. im unsure. #rangers: actually competent. if we ignore the hostile inquest rat in the room we're left with a competent charr leader and a #very cooperative norn huntsman (and bobbie but he contributes absolutely nothing). they will get out just fine. #engineers: disaster. there might be dead. too many egos in one room and a poor norn who just wants to get out beween everyone fighting #she might jus solve this on her own while the other three are about to slice each other's throats #thieves: absolute hell tier. mordrem sylvari trying to eat everything he can possble dig his teeth into. #a mildly confused human who probably just tries her best while the asura in the room is suffering psychic damage caused by #the mordrem and the charr that will simply not shut up for one second #i do not see ANYONE managing to get a solution in these conditions even if individually they might just be able to. #revs: awkward atmosphere between happy upbeat asura kid and really grumpy charr but they're getting through it #warriors: also a weird clash of personalities but they'd pull their asscheeks together and get out of there #and finally the guardians: no destructive force in here. just two very mature people and a slightly chaotic but otherwise clever bard #absolute dream team coming up with solutions. peace and happiness. #budgie plays gw2

[possiblytracker]

gods wettest saddest most pathetic creature wandering despairingly through long cold airport corridor to find exit after dropping off beloved friend and grappling with the realisation that this feeling is going to recur throughout the rest of their life forever and ever but maybe the incredible lifechanging love and companionship they have and will get to experience along with it makes it all worth it now and for the future. even if right now in this corridor it still hurts like a motherfucker

#i had a more serious version of ghis post but this is better i need to be funnie #IM OK I WILL BE OK. THIS IS IT THIS IS WHAT IT IS TO LOVE PEOPLE #ISNT IT SO SO COOL THAT I CAN LOVE PEOPLE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD AND THEY LOVE ME TOO EVEN IF IT IS SAD SOMETIMES #THE JOY​ OF GETTING TO SHARE BITS OF MY LIFE WITH PEOPLE LIKE THIS EVEN MOMENTARILY IS WORTH ANY DESPAIR TENFOLD!!! #I STILL NEED A MINUTE THOUGH I AM YET TO ADVANCE PAST THE ERUPTING INTO TEARS AT RANDOM INTERVALS STAGE. GIVE ME A MINUTE #(i left the corridorlike 5 hours ago some details may be embellished for dramatic effect) #like yes this will happen again with many different people probably i have a lot of life left to live. but isnt that fantastic #i need a fucking job so i can roadtrip next time i get to travel maybe ill speedrun this shit with more of yall/J/J #i am going.to bed tho i will feel better tomorrow #im feeling weirdly inspired to reach out more and fix my crumbling online social life before its a wreck but I am a crumbling wreck rn #who has been up since 8 #and needs a goddamn nap

[damnedtreasure]

Gosh for so much of glass onion I can so very easily imagine the fun they were having making this. Like I can imagine them going "okay so we have this slow zoom on the Mona Lisa and have elon Bron talk about the interpretations of her expression- and then we CUT TO ANDI" or "oh so one of the puzzles is a fugue how should we explain it? YO YO MA!" or "y'know what'd be cool as hell? Having a guy walk through the shot and disrupt things while saying 'ignore me,' right? But we have him always holding a bottle of Corona!!" or "what if we play the Nat King Cole song? Wait, no, to really hammer it home, we have the ending shot be of andi in the Mona Lisa pose!" Or "this character who no one believed despite telling the truth and predicting downfall, y'know what her name should be? CASSANDRA"

It was an incredibly fun film to watch. I can't imagine how much more fun it must have been to write.

#you really can feel how much that movie had love put in it #love of storytelling love of acting live of mystery #glass onion is a very very very good story masterfully told #other things that were probably the most fun to include: what if the rothko is upside down? what if the guitar isnt left handed? #among other things ive seen people point out #i just love all of them #its got so many little details that make it so fucking good to rewatch #because they dont really hide things from you. they dont change things. its almost meant to be rewatched so you can pick up the details #and go 'ohhhh look at that!! theres the clue!!!' #i love it #ive watched it three times now and i giggled through my repeat watches like a schoolgirl seeing all the cool things #i want twenty of these #give me a whole series of benoit blanc films #glass onion spoilers

[boygirlctommy]

barely caught the last few minutes of tommys stream, but it doesnt matter bcus i still cried my eyes out :,) i love you dsmp and most of all i love you dsmp fandom <3

#my post #i have so many great memories thanks to this server andve made so many friends #fr though from when mello gave me their lore playlist and i swore to be a ctubbo apologist right off the bat #to losing it over exile #discovering sad-ist and realizing that i want to work in animation #binge-reading passerine in one go hours before my senior prom and laying on the floor trying to process it all #making batshit theories about cranboo #being certain i was gonna miss tftsmp every single time but every time they were late #cosplaying cwilbur at a con and meeting so many other dsmp enjoyers :D #reading mangoball as it was still being updated #r/place (o7 placebur i sacrificed my sanity for the left eye) #torturing my siblings by giving EXTREMELY detailed lore explanations while we were driving and they couldnt escape <3 #reading no cause for concern!! finding artists that i adore and friends that i love!!! ./hug and HOLD HANDS CHAT!!!! #building the camarvan in my irls mc realm and placing lmanberg flags everywhere!! #ive drawn ctommy so much he made up half of my portfolio for college applications! #i love these characters i love this story i love this fandom i could go on for hours an dhours picking out little things i love and #favorite moments and memories!! #im not going anywhere- gonna be here drawing and crying about ctommy for the rest of my days probably #i just needed to lovepost about this weird and finally dead server <3

[paganinpurple]

AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

[blkgirl-writing]

Ahhhhh you are phenomenal! Do you have any more stray nsfw thoughts for Gale?

Oh my goodness I love this question!!! Um..I think… these are more random and much more detailed and graphic so beware 😩

More NSFW Gale of Waterdeep headcannons

He keeps thrusting hard while he’s cumming, grinding his hips against yours, milking every last drop of his orgasm

He Cums a lot, like my god does it make for a great cream pie

and he'd definitely just want to cum inside you

though it would be quite fun to tease him with keeping his cum on your face for a while after the first time he came on your face. You confidently walking back too camp while he followed closely "did you forget to wipe your face?" "love, everyone will see-oh, unless you wanted..that?"

he immediately gets hard again from that idea

Astarion would make quite a few jokes at Gales expense seeing the mess he made on you

and a few small comments on how he could do better

the next night Gale made sure to make you scream his name extra loudly, and wouldn't bother to cover your mouth to shush you

he has a hard time cumming from head, honestly. he loves getting it but he'd much prefer to be inside you

one you get to his real home, his tower, he'll want to fuck you in every single corner, on every single surface

his favorite probably being bending you over the kitchen counter but there's many favorites

Gale feels award not using his hands the whole time during sex, but specifically oral, both giving and taking

he will always be fingering you , or holding up your hips, or feeling your body, his hands will always be in use

and while you give him head he'll hold your chin or cup your jaw (isn't that just the prettiest sight)

and he'd tell you how well you're doing

lowkey compliments you so much because he wants to be complimented

Literally will walk much happier after you say he has the best cock/massive cock, anything really

And of course he's packing. Always well trimmed, solid 8 inches, perfectly curved

he doesn't even have to do much with a dick like that but he still treats you like royalty

Let's talk mutual masterbation ok

He's so used to his own touch from the time he spent alone that he definitely still needs to masterbate

but gods is he feel guilty

he'll tell you every time he wants to

and you'd just hear him moaning your name

before you were together one of his biggest fantasies about you was watching you make yourself cum

laying so prettily on his bed, spread wide

that thought would make him cum so damn fast

and also unable to look you in the eye for a whole day

he couldn't look at you directly for a whole week because of the nasty things he made up

he was masterbating quite literally every second he could manage to

to the point where he didn't really have any sperm left

thankfully he didn't have to wait long til you joined his fantasies

anyway

it became a very usual thing to grind on each other til you both came

it felt intimate and he wanted to feel you cumming on his leg

Absolutely licks his fingers after pulling his finger out of you

I think thats enough for now 😭

#gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #smut #fanfiction #x reader #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale smut #gale #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate x reader #baulders gate 3 #x reader smut #smut headcanons #gale headcannons

[breadbrobin]

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo x reader #pjo #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

[thebellearchives]

𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

~ inumaki toge // fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : at night, you and your sorcerer friend take shelter in an inn room to take care of each other’s wounds

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, making out, a bit suggestive maybe ?? (i’m still tagging it as fluff)

- gumi’s part: 'it’s complicated' friends to lovers, he tends to your wounds

- toge’s part : toge’s aware of your crush on him, you feel cursed energy through his kisses, onigiri ingredients in japanese, he uses harmless words at the very end, also uses cursed speech on you in the last sentence lol, you tend to his wounds

‧₊˚ a / n : wasn’t intending on posting this but anyways, this shots turned out kinda cute so, would’ve been sad to keep them to myself, also putting them together because both follow the same scenario and have many similarities

the reader feeling toge’s cursed speech was largely inspired by this 🫶🏻

also don’t question the fact that they’re in an inn room instead of the infirmary or smth okay just go with the flow bye 😭

• 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

You and Megumi somehow managed to check in the room without much questioning. Entering an inn late at night looking like you just got beat up was definitely something that would raise the front desk lady’s eyebrows, but you figured you had just gotten lucky.

You closed your eyes and sighed, Megumi’s footsteps came closer. You were sitting in the kitchen counter, knees apart from each other so Megumi could stand in between and attend to your wounds just like you had done before with his. His fingers lifted your chin up so he could see better under the room’s dim light. He pressed an alcohol drenched cotton ball lightly over your left eyebrow, making you jolt.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry” he mumbled “I’m almost done.”

Your eyelids opened slowly, finding him close to you, his dark eyes fixed on your wound. You studied his face in the meantime, long lashes contrasting with his pale clear skin, yet blending with his black irises.

“Can’t believe after all this time of being friends we just had our first mission together.”

“I’m guessing Gojo wasn’t sure of what would work well for us”

“That’s not what I mean, I mean we did great!”

He scoffed in slight amusement.

“Yeah, I knew we would”

“You mean you knew because I kicked your ass the last time we sparred?” a cheeky smile appeared on your face.

“As far as I remember, I was declared the winner” he raised an eyebrow

“Small details, truthfully it was a tie.”

“Right…” Megumi decided to cut the conversation, focusing more on wiping dry blood from your skin.

Finally he exhaled, his hand moved away, examining your face carefully. A soft frown appeared on his face as his eyes fell on your lips.

“Did you cut your lip?”

“Oh? Not that I’m aware of, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s bloody.”

Megumi’s fingers on your chin tensed up, sliding the cotton ball over your lip and then discarding it. He tilted your head to the right, blinking and squinting. With the same hand he was holding your jaw, he swiped his thumb over the lower lip.

With widened eyes you stared at him, alarm bells suddenly going off in your head and your irregular breathing hitting his skin, his gaze fixed on the way your soft lip molded under his fingertip. Tangled thoughts raced in your head, trying to figure out the sudden change in the atmosphere and the accelerating pace of your beating heart.

“It’s not wounded” Megumi’s voice was barely audible and you noticed the way his body had just gotten as stiff as yours, probably gaining awareness of the context you were both were surrounded by: him in between your thighs, under the cover of dim lightning and the silence of the night, being the closest to one another you had ever been.

Dark eyes wandered over your mouth, following his thumb as it now slid to the other side. Hesitantly, he moved even closer until his lips hovered over yours. The anticipation that filled the room made sure to cut off both your breathing and his. But then, Megumi closed the distance between your mouths, lashes lowering and hidden feelings bursting out into the open. Megumi’s kiss was soft, and you made sure to reciprocate slowly, easing into the unknown sensation of kissing him.

When the kiss stopped he remained still. Your shaky hands slid up his shirt, fingertips grasping the fabric to keep him in place for as long as the sweet burning sensation sat on your guts. You weren't sure of what came over yourself, maybe it was the curiosity of having him as more than a friend. Maybe it was the thoughts that had constantly whispered at the back of your head how attractive you thought he was, the thoughts you had made sure to ignore and so you never acted on them. Maybe it was the thrill of crumbling his aloof and distant demeanor in between your hands.

Maybe it had been all of those things together, but you slightly and eagerly nudged your nose against his. And so he kissed you again, with a deep sigh of surrender and his hands roaming up your thighs. The sounds of kissing filled the kitchen, your tongue sliding across his tongue, his hungry mouth now fighting against your, your fists pulling from his shirt. His fingers squeezed your skin, a breathy exhale left your throat almost becoming a soft whine.

Megumi’s hands then settled on your hips, until he suddenly stopped, freezing in place and then pulling away from you to search for your eyes. You stared back in a bit of a daze.

“What…” the black haired sorcerer tried to form a coherent sentence, but it seemed like his brain for once wasn’t cooperating.

“I…” you cleared your throat, blinking a couple of times “I don’t know.”

He swallowed, trying to find words once again.

“Listen, I…”

“It’s okay” nervously you tightened your grip on his shirt, now anxious of letting him go “we don’t have to talk about this today or tomorrow. We can just… forget it happened.”

Slowly, Megumi nodded.

“We can just let it be… for tonight.”

“Yeah” you pulled him close again, his body relaxed as he followed your movement and searched for your lips once more.

“Yeah, just for tonight…”

• 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

Toge’s eyes followed you around as you picked and discarded objects from the first aid kit. At first he was annoyed at how much you had insisted on taking care of the wounds your last fight had inflicted, but at a certain point he had stopped complaining and just… stared. Now, you knew Toge wasn’t one to say much, because he couldn’t, but even when he didn’t say actual normal words he also wasn’t one to shut up. There was always some 'okaka's and 'tuna's and he would gesticulate here and there, he just had to let you know his opinion on absolutely everything. But now… he was absolutely silent.

You walked over to the kitchen counter, where he had sat down begrudgingly and now he was just lazily waiting.

“Bend over a little, will you?” you sighed, wet cotton in your hand.

His lavender eyes stared curiously, but he did as you asked and moved closer so you could reach for his face. There was a bloody scrape right next to his brow, product of a bad landing during the fight with the curse. You held your breath to gain courage and put aside your romantic feelings for the boy, then reached to cup his cheek with your left hand in order to keep him steady and started cleaning the almost dry blood.

He winced, a pitiful expression appeared on your face.

“Sorry” your voice softened “I’ll be finished soon, don’t worry, this is the last one.”

You expected him to say something, he would’ve usually just muttered a 'shake' or something, and yet he didn’t. When you were finally done you sighed once again, lowering your hands and grasping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, that’s it, why aren’t you speaking to me?” Toge raised a brow, as if your question was ridiculous to him “don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

He pressed his lips against each other and then shrugged.

“Are you mad at me?” your brows almost touched, his eyes widened.

“Okaka” he immediately shook his head.

“Oh, so now you’re talking” he snorted, finally letting a small smile shine through “there’s something off, I can tell…”

He bit his lip and shrugged again, this time pointing to his head with his index.

“Thinking?”

“Shake”

“About what?”

His eyes seemed to shine in a peculiar way, trying to hold back a smirk. It was almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that question for a while. Toge pointed at you, made a small heart with his index and thumb, and then pointed at himself. You blinked about twice, blankly.

“You’re thinking… about you and me?”

He squinted and motioned 'more less', then repeated the previous gesture: you, heart, him.

“You’re thinking…” you heart him. Suddenly your eyes widened, a blush rapidly crept up your face “you’re thinking i like you?”

Toge then grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Huh” you exhaled nervously, eyes shying away from him “right when i thought i was the best at understanding you seems like i still don’t get what is going on inside that head of yours.”

He chuckled, his right hand searched for his phone in his pocket and then quickly typed something up in the notes app. You just expectantly watched him as he conveyed his thoughts into written words.

“I’m not thinking you like me, i’m thinking i know you like me”

“Narcissistic much?” you quirked one of your eyebrows and he snorted “what makes you think that?”

“Just the way you look at me, and the way you act around me. Panda had pointed it out before but i’m just now thinking maybe he was right”

“I treat you just like all of my other friends!” you looked up at his eyes again, this time in defiance, but he tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief “alright then, what have i done with you that i wouldn’t have done with anyone else?”

With a smile, Toge rubbed his cheek and then placed his index right on top of yours.

“Blushing?”

“Shake”

“You’re insinuating that I have romantic feelings for you, of course i’m gonna be embarrassed!”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Then, he cupped your left cheek, raising your face towards his and supporting your chin with his ring finger and pinky. You frowned, quickly catching up with the fact that he was holding your face in the same way you had done just moments before.

“… I was just taking care of you…” your whisper worsened your blush.

“always”

He chuckled at your shocked expression, the sound waves of his harmless words making you shiver. It wasn’t everyday that he’d risk speaking normally.

“… well, yes, i care for you”

“a lot” you bit your lip, there was no denying that, so you swallowed your nerves and looked away, he snickered “you’re cute”

Once again the surprise froze you, the power in his voice making your body tremble, what he had said made a sweet nervous feeling flutter around your stomach. He leaned in, you held your breath. Toge placed a lovely kiss on your lips, and you delicately but firmly kissed him back, the sliding of his lips on yours enticing and elating. A soft wave of cursed energy flowed through your mouth, but the moment he slid his tongue on your lower lip and you opened your mouth it rose in intensity. You had to cling from his shirt to keep yourself steady, the moment his marked tongue brushed against yours a sharp wave of electricity ran down your throat, pulling a whimper out from your vocal chords.

He pulled back to look at you and you panicked, embarrassed.

“I’m- oh god i’m so sorry!” your face was burning red at that point “it’s just that- i can feel your cursed energy.”

His eyes widened with surprise and worry, hopping off the counter his hands grabbed your shoulders.

“Takana?!”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine” cupping his face you tried to comfort him, and it worked, he relaxed, but you pulled him closer again, your noses brushing “it felt… really nice…”

You lips searched for his, Toge smirked in amusement to your reaction, but he complied. So slowly, he kissed you again. The feeling of his energy running trough you seemed to make the blood in your veins rush in bliss, pulling sounds from the depths of your chest. Suddenly his hand slithered to the back of your head and he deepened the kiss, the mark on his tongue making contact with yours and making you gasp and jolt against his body. Toge giggled, but caught you in his arms, resting his back on the counter.

“Come on Toge, won’t you have mercy on me?” you complained, Toge shook his head slowly, and by the way he smiled you knew he was about to pull one of his stunts.

“Be louder” his lips immediately crashed back onto yours.

#; fluffy belle #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #megumi fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #jjk toge #jjk inumaki #toge x reader #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki x y/n #jjk brainrot #gn!reader

[crustgremlin]

How to start a pair of punk patch pants

(a potentially really shitty tutorial)

I've seen a couple videos on this but a lot of them seem to skip out on some really key information and tricks so I thought I'd just write a probably really long and really rambly post about it!!!

Step one: gathering supplies

In terms of supplies the main things you'll need are:

The pants

Approximately 4 rolls of dental floss (this can change depending on number of patches and your pant size)

A needle with a big enough eye to fit the floss through

Acrylic paints

Brushes

Scrap denim or other scraps of fabric for the patches

Pins

Some kind of marker or pencil that will work on the fabric you've chosen

I will be going into some detail below about why you need each of these items!!

The pants themselves

personally I prefer either using a pair of jeans I already own or thrifting a pair to be as sustainable as possible, however if you really need to go out and buy a new pair for whatever reason get a high quality pair, this will help in the long run with preventing them from falling apart as easily.

The second main point I want to make is that the pants should not be skinny jeans. This is because when you sew on patches it slightly cinches in the fabric, and with skinny jeans generally being stretchy, this is going to result in the thread of the patches stretching out and snapping. Your patches will all just start falling off and it'll ruin your hard work.

This is why I'd recommend using a pair of jeans or pants that are a bit looser of a fit, such as straight legged pants or a pair of pants a size up from your actual size if possible!

Dental floss

The reason it's generally suggested to use dental floss rather than actual thread is because dental floss tends to overall be a lot stronger than your average thread, as well as often being more easily accessible to buy.

Needle

This ones pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you get a needle with a long/wide enough eye (the hole the thread goes through) for your floss to be able to fit through without trouble.

Acrylic paints

You may be wondering why I'm suggesting acrylics over fabric paints and there are a few reasons!

The first is simply that they're both cheaper and far easier to purchase for the average person than fabric paints, and I want this tutorial to be as accessible as possible for as many people as possible.

The second reason is that fabric paints require a lot of fucking around with setting the paint, whereas acrylics can just be left to dry and be finished, and so long as your pants are hand washed, the paints won't come out (unless you layer it on super thick or are really rough when you clean them).

Brushes

Another pretty obvious one, these are needed so you can actually paint your patches!!!

Fabric/spare denim

You need fabric or scraps to be able to actually create patches for your pants, so this is essential.

Any kind of scrap fabric can do, a lot of fabric stores tend to have bins of scrap fabric that are either pre-priced or priced by weight and that can be a really good opportunity to acquire the fabric you need!

Another way (the method I tend to use) is thrifting a few pairs of jeans alongside the pair I want to patch and then ripping them up into patch-sized pieces!

Either way, I really advise against buying straight up new fabrics by the metre for this as it kinda goes against the entire idea of sustainability and reuse.

A really big tip I have for when you're cutting the fabric of your choice up for patches is to actually only cut a little slit, and then rip. This produces a really nice distressed edge and will help add some texture and more of a fucked up look to your pants a lot quicker than if you waited for the fabric to fray by itself!

Marker/pencil

This is literally just so you can draw your designs onto your patches! I've personally found that either a black or white (depending on how dark the fabric you're using is) pastel pencil is generally good enough to get the general gist of what you want down well enough for you to paint it on.

Pins

These are literally just to hold your patches in place and literally any kind from proper sewing pins to safety pins will work! (just don't forget they're in the jeans before you put them on I promise you it isn't fun to put on a pair of jeans full of pins).

Optional: a sketchbook

You may want a sketchbook or alternatively scraps of paper if you have any kind of original concept for a patch so you can draw it out a few times first to really nail it, and it's also helpful to have if you aren't as confident in your painting and drawing abilities!

Step two: patch making

I personally pre-rip/cut all of my patches before I paint anything on them generally speaking and then fit whatever design I want onto whatever piece I think it would fit on, however if you want to paint your patches and then rip/cut the design out that's also an option (and probably a much smarter one I'm just incredibly stubborn).

For punk pants you want a good mix of both punk bands, politics, and also maybe something a bit daft (I have the "he scream at he own ass" possum on the back pocket of a patched skirt for example). If you don't have bands and such, it kinda defeats the point of them being punk patched pants.

I personally generally pick a theme (eg. colourful patches, all black and white) when making anything patched because I think it makes everything look a bit more cohesive, but that is by no means a rule you actually have to follow I'm just autistic a fuck tbh.

Step three: the assembly

I personally put my main/bigger patches on first and put them on in a few different places until I get the placement I like, and then sew them on with the floss like this:

The main thing you want to do to make sure your pants don't wind up looking a bit weird or bare is to fill in any gaps between your painted patches with small, blank patches. Like this:

and that's pretty much it!!! I can't really explain via written text how to sew and how I personally tie off etc but if anyone would like a video tutorial lmk!!!

#punk #alternative #cripple punk #queer punk #diy or die #punk patches #diy punk #punk diy #patched pants #crust pants #patched skirt #punk skirt #crust skirt #punk pants #crust punk #punk style #punk fashion #punk culture

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him. 

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent  nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him. 

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet.  Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones. 

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report. 

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

-

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this. 

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you. 

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder. 

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would. 

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the  time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop. 

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then. 

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon. 

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better. 

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that. 

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag. 

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims. 

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be. 

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.” 

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago. 

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?” 

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out. 

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it. 

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon. 

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat. 

“What?” 

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight. 

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy. 

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling. 

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.” 

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.” 

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.” 

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end. 

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing. 

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?” 

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin. 

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking. 

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car. 

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back. 

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.” 

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that. 

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition. 

and voila <3

#spent my sunday writing this while rewatching season 3 #putting off prep for my grad school interview b/c this is so much better <3 #hope everyone likes it #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher imagine #hotch #hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #Thistle #Thistle Merini #thistle dungeon meshi #thistle delicious in dungeon #sissel #spoilers #theories