#*squeals in tourette's*

[didderd]

Overwhelmed... from all the positive feedback. /pos

[ghostlyvoidshark]

Hnnnghhdhdh thoughts of the sillies forever haunts me. Someone please worsen my brainrot I need to write something. The words wont word right but im trying.

The best I have right now is thinking about how the skelebois would react to someone with tourette-syndrome (because I have it and self indulgence in creative works is great.)

Please let me know your ideas and stuff about this and if you want more guys with other stuff or more reacting to this!

Sans

Very patient with you and honestly would probably not care unless something is timed funny / a silly response. I personally wouldn't be offended and would probably laugh at myself too. Like something happens - maybe he made a comment about something like the price of a ketchup bottle and you reply with a tic like "yippee" and you both end up snorting. Maybe it even becomes an inside joke. "How cheap is it?" / "dont worry its yippee certified."

Wouldn't ever antagonize your tics. He may joke (after a convo about boundaries and if youre genuinely okay with jokes) but he doesnt echo you / encourage you to tic for humors sake or anything else.

He doesn't personally understand tics and how it feels to do it but he understands pain and would 100% be there to help you out when / if you have painful tics. If you allow it he'll get you soothing items and distract you if it will help. Just let him know and he's got you.

If you develop a tic related to him he'll lowkey find it endearing. Like he isn't sure if its because you like him or if it's just a coincidence but he smiles a bit wider when you do it. (Stars help him if you develop a pun related tic like repeating his or saying one)

I usually have happy tics (probs something tied to stimming but it feels like a tic.) So i can imagine if you tell him the related tic is because youre happy he would melt on the inside. Especially when he realizes you echo him because you think hes funny. He has buried his face in a pillow to hide his blush after you leave. Papyrus has teased him for this.

Has on occasion made people uncomfortable for antagonizing you. Like glaring or making pointed jokes to rude people. He'll try to call them out first just in case they don't realize they're being harmful but if they don't care then He'll make them.

Papyrus

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

"Yeah, its just -" *explains tourettes*

"OH! OKAY! :] "

Literally as simple as that. He doesn't draw anymore attention to it or really notice it unless you bring it up. Like he just writes it off as a thing that happens and adjusts quick.

If you're okay with it he'll inform people you have it when they get confused. He figures it must be tiring constantly explaining yourself, but worry not! He loves sharing information and explaining things! Especially when its helpful! Not to mention when the topic can educate others on how to be more respectful and informed on others disabilities. So he sees it as an all around good thing and wouldnt be bothered at all to help. (Also he isnt going to just announce this about you, only saying things in convo if ppl ask)

Also, even if you prefer he not say anything, he will educate himself on the subject so he can be a better help and have a better understanding just in case the subject ever comes up later or he meets someone else with tics. It also doesn't hurt to be aware and conscious of these types of things!

I feel like he's respectful enough to let you finish your sentences but if you struggle really hard he might try to help. He'd gently ask a question about what youre trying to say and suggest words to help. He wont do it again if you ask him to stop - hes not doing it maliciously after all. He just doesn't want you to feel frustrated with yourself.

Is a tiny bit (actually very much) hyped when you echo him or have a tic related to him. He asks if its a good thing (like not a stress tic or smth) and if you say yes then he kinda taps his feet / jogs in place and squeals like an exited fan. Says soemthing along the lines of "I AM HONORED TO BE A PART OF SOMETHING YOU DO TO EXPRESS POSITIVE EMOTIONS!"

Awe and if you copy his laugh? Like echoing it when you're happy or smth he is beaming with pride like he's the sun itself. Because!! His laugh!!! It makes you happy and you want to do it with him!!! Kcjdjsns

Actually surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) helpful with painful tics and tic attacks. He is very good at getting you what you need to soothe you / make things less painful and stressful.

Would lecture someone for antagonizing you.

Red

Unusually patient with you finishing sentences and stuff. He kinda just sees any stutters or interruptions as part of the sentence. Like if someone were to get sidetracked or mutter something - he sees it like that. Sometimes he gets frustrated if you struggle to say something for a bit but its not at you. Its at the fact that he isn't getting what you mean when you try to explain without the troublesome word or if you continue to try to say it and it doesn't click in his head.

His immediate reaction is to side eye you but he doesn't make a big deal out of it. He'll probably comment on it like "you gettin' possessed?" But after you explain hes like "oh." And backs off. Might make some jokes before even processing that it could be offensive. Like not jokes about you being broken or negative stuff (hes trying not to be so rough around the edges lol) but just puns about the tics and jokes about glitches or something.

Probably would be the most ... "normal" about it. Wouldn't really ignore them or treat it like its a sensitive topic. Will point out when its funny (in a non harmful way), asks about them sometimes, and makes small comments here and there. For example if you make a weird gesture he'll tease you about it saying stuff like "castin' spells?" Or "I agree" to something you said that makes no sense.

Never thinks to antagonize your tics. Like yeah, he jokes, but he just doesnt think about it or think to avoid it. He just doesnt.

Gives mean looks and snaps at people who do it. He'll be nonchalant about it at first like "hey man, fuck off with that." But if they keep on he'll get more aggressive.

Kinda awkward with the painful ones at first. He thinks you probably just want to get through it and move on because pain isn't something normally expressed for him so he kinda just subtly goes easy on you without really drawing attention to it. If you express it more openly and/or he gets more comfortable he will try to help you out. He understands having aches and pains from things you can't really help (like wounds and scars) so he'll try to apply what he knows and what you tell him helps.

Grim

A little impatient but tries his best to be polite. He understand its not your fault, and he doesnt blame you for any irritation he has, he just gets antsy when things arent efficient. (Hes working on it.) At least he doesnt rush you or anything... yay?

Other than that he has a "i don't care" attitude about it. Yes yes, its a part of you, so what? He doesn't mean anything by it, he just doesn't see it as something worth acknowledging, really. It's like noticing someone has curly hair. Its there, it might be something worth noting at first, but then you just forget about it until its relevant.

Doesnt care if something is funnily timed either. You can have fun with it but he isnt bothered. But if you have a response to something he says, tic or otherwise, he instinctively takes it as a genuine response lmao.

"HM, THESE NOODLES HAVE BETTER INGREDIENTS BUT THESE ONES HAVE THE PERFECT SHAPE FOR WHAT I WANT TO DO."

*tic: " mac n cheese"

"NO, MACARONI NOODLES WOULD NOT SUFFICE."

Like he doesn't process it entirely that its a tic and kinda just responds seriously. Its kinda funny tbh. You'll probably end up giving up on explaining its a tic anyways if you try so itd be easier to go along with it. (He argues that it is rude not to respond and he is taking his manners seriously now that he is out the underground.)

Will rock someones shit for being disrespectful and antagonizing you. Like maybe not physically but he will verbally rip someone to shreds. Like its pathetic to antagonize someone for something so basic for no reason. Is this person serious? Being rude over something so minor. No, its not funny. What is funny is how this person thinks they can just start shit and be a nuisance with no consequences. People like them would've gotten their teeth knocked in for behaving that way. People at least knew not to be assholes for no reason. (They had a system of 'i leave you alone you leave me alone' unless someone was after something like power or money or whatever. You always had a reason to do violent things. It was normalized, but it wasn't barbaric. )

[shortcakepony]

tourettes is stupid like I have years of built up stress from disorders so now I will squeak and squeal and have painful body spasms the rest of my life

[rejectory]

Jesus fucking Christ. They’re going to book logopedic sessions before that vocabulary range gives him Tourette’s.

“It’s the world you have to impress, not me.”

Not. That’s to take the ball squeeze off so Beck can walk, not squeal like a chew toy at the first hint of a down-there pinch. Of which there’s going to be latex a-plenty.

The moment he stops impressing, he’s outtie.

:)

God-U promised a specimen worthy of Homelander’s shadow. Years in the making, ugly above-human experimentation, cellular inbreeding signed off on dirty tax dollars, and nothing but disappointment to show for it.

Golden Boy offed himself three fucking seconds away from making it into the Seven because he had too many “feelings”?

Gosh diddly pathetic darn.

Good. Fucking. Riddance.

Forget that nobody. Who mopped up the explosion when Stan’s laboratorial diaper burst and rained diarrhea all over the country?

Excellent guess. Now it’s God-Me for Homelander. He’s printing the samples.

Under his caped wing, Beck will be made mythical.

“Look around. This place used to be bustling with paps, but now? Now, they’re too busy stuffing their fat Micheline Man guts at Burger King and trying to find their dicks somewhere under there to remember what it was like to be able to get it up.

“The agenda is to make a pushover out of you. To have you on your phone twenty-four seven, impotent. I know you’re better than that. That’s why you’re here.”

He shepherds Beck toward Vought Tower’s revolving door like a string of Gumby cheese.

“Oh, and one more thing,” silly him, “you’re gonna have to cut a few ties, okay?”

THE THING IS THAT WHATEVER THIS IS, IT WORKS WONDERS ON BECK BOY. You don't walk around with a name like Rebecca Boy without being a little foolish. You don't get raised in a crate or whatever and chased around as a wee pup by child super soldiers in the Arizona desert without, you know, turning out a little wonky. You get wooed every time Dick Hayes, in all his mad scientist glory, deigns to smile at you and, yeah, Homelander just kind of works on you.

Never you mind that that was really bad. That was skin-peeling, bone-crushing, madness-inducing bad for anybody else. But he is, as I've just now learned, made of stronger stuff. And he's powered by the fucking sun. Now that he's on the ground, he laments the distance between himself and that big, mighty ball of gas.

He looks at The Great Beyond, wide eyes wider. But he quickly looks back. He isn't ready for what he might see, he thinks, unless Homelander is right there, explaining it to him, by his side.

"I AM—" He's still shouting. He doesn't mean to. He's not angry anymore. That placating little hand movement Homelander did—it worked wonders, like I said.

"I am good," he says firmly. "I am ready. Terrorists, traffickers, people blowing themselves up. I am ready." He almost scoffs, a little. He tenses, and it's kind of like half a flex.

"Have you seen what I can do, even."

[tourettic-brookstone]

yes hello— okay so kinda story but like, twoish years ago, I made this post about Jay Ninjago with Tourette’s mostly as self-projection and a craving for rep, and while I was trying to find that headcanon post (took me a second because I could not remember how I tagged it lol) I stumbled upon your Cole with TS and uhh 👀 Cole Ninjago is my favorite character so I’m 👀 and idk if you ship bruise at all (haven’t read your Headcanons yet because I came here immediately after I found my Jay with TS) so maybe you’ve already talked about this before but... now all I can think of is tourettic bruise and I’m 🥺💕🥰

anyways I just like. never see anyone else put TS rep out there like this so my heart died of happiness just a bit and I’m so genuinely excited to read these and see more TS rep💕

AAHHHH YES TOURETTIC BRUISE THAT WOULD BE LIKE THE BEST THING EVER OMG

But I'm so happy you want to read my headcannons and such my heart is doing all kinds of flutters and flips I just 🥺😭🥰

If you ever find (or if you have found) that Tourettic Jay post, I'd love to read it 😩 I made my Tourettic Cole headcannons because of low rep too and I'm dying for more

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Two Piña Coladas, The Redux

(Now a Vincent x Reader story)

Word Count- 1500

Warnings- depiction of Tourette’s, swearing, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, penetration (m!f)

A/N- You and Vincent have a bit of fun on your Honeymoon.

“You know, I have something for you. I wanted to wait until the perfect time,” you looked at Vincent in the bathroom mirror.

Your eyes met, and he felt his face flush. Vincent twisted his neck and popped his mouth with a hand when he saw the seductive look in his wife’s gaze. You gave him a once over; a playful smile danced on your lips as your eyes traveled over his Caribbean tanned body.

Vincent whistled, a loud wolf one, and shouted the first time on their honeymoon. His tics had been at a minimum daily. But at night, when the atmosphere in the hotel room became electrifying, the anticipation coursed through his veins. His cock distended.

“I LOVE PUSSY!” he squealed with a simultaneous violent nod backwards of his head. Vincent's chin lifted in the air rapidly. He continued to brush his teeth.

“I know you do, Vin. Can't get enough of it!” You teased your husband. “But just get the bed ready for us?”

Vincent leaned over and pressed his forehead to your neck. He kissed behind your ear, then your cheek and lips. His body shuddered and involuntarily tried to swallow your mouth in lieu of a soft peck.

“I love you, y/n” his nose rubbed yours before turning his back. “Fuck your tits! Asshole licker.” He was glad You couldn't see his face while stripping naked to get in their bed.

“Only if you're good!” You joked hoping he would relax. “Not that second part though.”

Maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was the expectation of what a man wanted from his wife. Vincent had none. He loved you, and your heart and the patience you had for him. Still you felt your heart pound almost rapidly while checking yourself one last time in the bathroom mirror. Would he like what he saw?

You stood at the foot of the bed and cleared your throat. Vincent put down his book and grinned from ear to ear. He let out a wolf whistle. This is an involuntary tic followed by a pump of the fists in the air simultaneously. He got to his knees and scrambled down to the end of the bed and knelt in front of his wife.

“Fuck me sideways,” his voice thick with desire. This was 100% Vincent.

“Do you like it?” your voice came out a coo.

He couldn't help it, Vincent dove his face into her cleavage. He ran his nose and tongue along the curve of your tits. The lace bra you wore tickled him.

Vincent let out a throaty whisper, “You have no idea how much I want you.”

There was another slight tic that was akin to blowing a raspberry and whistling again. your favorite accident.

You laughed. your hands lost in his thick curls held him until he almost drowned in your breasts. His tongue is now dipping under the fabric to trace an outline of your fleshy nipple. His finger pulled the lace aside so he could capture said nipple perfectly in his mouth. He sucked, alternating from one to the other. Harder each time before licking at them. Biting them, and your flesh, until you purred.

Completely unable to keep his hands off of you, Vincent ran them down over the soft see-through mesh of your lingerie. Your mouths found each other with the hunger of an eager teenage couple while Vin’s hands kneaded handfuls of your beautiful body. There was so much of you he could touch and hold and kiss. More of you to fuck and make love no matter what he thought.

Vincent worshipped your body.

He massaged your ass now. Your tongues grew exhausted, lips chapped as you continued kissing. Vincent started to grind into you. At first the repetitive thrust of his hips was part of his divergence. Then it became part of his want. To show you how you made him swell. The bulge inside of his boxers was stiff against your hips. He let his one hand wander between your thighs.

Vincent played with the satin of your panties. His two fingers stroked the only thing in the way of your entrance. They moved swiftly back and forth creating a wetness and a friction creating heat that spread all along your body the way you spread your legs enough for him to delve inside.

Vincent’s fingers worked rapidly. His arm jerked a few times causing him to push further inside of you than he liked. His fingers curled, then one found your clit.

You gasped. Then gave Vincent an airy command into his mouth to do it again before your tongue took the upper hand deep in the back. He fought back, overtook you, and you playfully nipped at him. All the while he made circles that increased in a slow speed on your clit.

If he can't say anything, your thoughts were punctuated by Vincent's fingers making a come here gesture inside of your cunt. “I can use the physical tics maybe to my advantage. He's always so worried they'll interfere.

Here is one now. Vincent’s fingers moved at a speed near a vibrator, but You kept his mouth occupied. You couldn't keep up, your body starting to lose control. Your hips jerked into his hand and that familiar ledge was under your proverbial feet. The fire spread in your body with each hook of his fingers and swipe of your clit.

“Vin..” you pant, “I'm gonna cum if you keep..” you moaned.

His movements halted, Vincent pulled out. “Fuck that bitch!” He bit his lip, embarrassed. Then a growl escaped him “How about you sit on the bed?”

“Are you asking?” you smirked.

“Sit on the edge of the bed. Feet on the floor.”

Vincent stood himself and demanded you listen. His tone was more commanding and confident than you had ever heard. You obeyed.

His palms on your thighs massaging them. Kneading them lovingly until he got to your knees which he spread apart and knelt inside. He kissed a path from the bend in your leg inwards until he reached that damn fabric.

Vincent tongued the satin just along your entrance. He felt you soak under his mouth; it only encouraged him. His fingers and teeth worked to slide your panties off then bent forward once more.

Now he ran his tongue along the inside of your thigh before snaking it towards your clit. It worked like his fingers, slow and circular. It flicked in and out a few times before he sucked on your slit. Tongue then a finger and then a tongue once more working together in their assault.

Vincent's free hand massaged your thighs and hips. They started to buck against his face. Your hands were buried in a mass of his curls. That heat swelled inside of your chest as the muscles in your legs began to shake. Still, Vincent worked his mouth nimbly until an orgasm rocked your body, your hand in his hair yanked in reaction. He stood unexpectedly and fumbled with his boxers

“Knees! SLUT!” Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. His cheeks blazed red and pink. “Y/N, I'm-”

You got to your feet and kissed him rather passionately. “I know, my love. I'll be your slut some other night.”

You winked and climbed on to the bed to present yourself to him. Your ass and sex on full display. “Fuck me the way I like?” you all but whined over your shoulder in his direction.

Vincent bent you forward towards the bed face down. He hooked his arm under your leg and hoisted it up so that it bent back around his willowy body. He held it in place to aggressively sheath his entire cock inside of you. Vincent's body shook with a violent shudder from side to side before starting a steady rhythmic pounding that slammed his pelvis into your ass.

Everything on you shook. Vincent venerated your curves and thick thighs. He took the time to squeeze and tease handfuls of your tits when he managed to bend over you. His mouth and tongue caught the spot under your ear, forehead pressed into the flat space where your shoulder blades met.

Feeling himself also edge, Vincent stopped rather abruptly. “I want to look at you when we cum.”

So up towards the pillows you both made your way. Vincent took you in his arms as he lost himself deep inside your sex. Slow and steady as he embraced you while looking in your eyes.

You kissed, short sporadic ones, while vowing to never let each other go. And you both came, a tic coursed through Vincent's body that you held him through.

For better or best. Because with Vincent there was no worst.

Tag- @bisexualnathanyoung @magic-multicolored-miracle @maerenee930 @wasabimia @gayandfairycore @cemeteryklaus @neuroticpuppy @nightmonsters @love-is-dirty-baby @firstpersonnarrator @forenschik @falloutby @a-ghoulish-tale @frogs--are--bitches @love-is-dirty-baby @inspiremeandsetmefree @rob-private

[soft-angelic-kiss]

We’re all a little bit crazy (6)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

therapsit! Izuku x Patient! Bakugou x Patient! Todoroki x Patient! Shinsou x Patient! Reader

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Chapter 6 trigger warnings- mentions of Tourette's (i don't think that’s an ACTUAL trigger but it couldn’t be hurt to mention) mentions of self harm (thinking they're indestructible.) And mentions of counting/taking pills + medications. 

I’m gonna need you guys to bare with me! I really don’t know what a mental hospital is like and so i tried my best with the information a friend gave me :) 

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5             «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Walking through the dining hall, Izuku kept his head up and tried to remain tall and strong to the other patients when he heard a squeal and watched the tuff of h/c go up into the air. Immediately Izuku was on a high alert. As he sped up his pace the same as Bakugou, who immediately started yelling

“Gah dammit shitty hair! I don’t you to stay-”

The blonde's voice was easily cut off through the laughter of a red head, and another blonde. 

“Oh chill it Baku-” the blonde's head threw itself backwards as the end of his sentence  “gOU-” escaped his lips. The red head was immediately making sure he was okay, even with Y/N in his arms. Rubbing his neck and asking about cramps

Izuku smiled softly and watched them all interact, being able to tell that they were all best friends. He hummed as Y/N bounced her way over to him and hung on his arm with a smile “YOU CAME” they yelled in excitement making everyone smile softly. 

The red head was the first to make a move as he smiled to the greenette “Hey! I’m Ejirou Kirishima!” he smiled as he pounded his fist together mushing together already forming scars, and bruises against his knuckles. 

It caused Izuku to check out all of his other scars that littered his body, his hands and arms mostly, Y/N must’ve seen him looking Kirishima over and hummed softly whispering into his ear “he thinks he’s indestructible..” Izuku nodded in understanding

“I’m D-” his sentence once again was cut short by a scrunching of his shoulders and a yell of “ENK” before he returned to his previous stance and said “Denki Kaminari!” he smiled softly and waved. Izuku waved back, he decided he would look at their files later after he laid Y/N down for bed. 

“What’s dinner today?” Y/N looked to their friends as they ushered Izuku to the table that they sat at, the setting arrangement a little squishier than normal due to the extra body that was added, On one side Kirishima, Denki, and Shinsou sat together and on the other side sat Izuku, Y/N, Todoroki and Bakugou. 

Bakuou was the first to respond “they have beef stroganoff… and steamed carrots...” Y/N pouted and nodded “I’m not surprised Katsu..” 

The group let out a little disappointed groan collectively. The cafeteria wasn’t the MOST delightful place to have their dinner, but they didn’t have the choice, especially on beef stroganoff night. 

Izuku thought their food opinions were interesting as he let them all engage in conversation quietly observing each of them with a smile. They all looked so happy and content when they were together. 

Bakugou's attitude was calm, Shinsou was engaging in conversation. Shoto was speaking more than Izuku thought was possible for him, Denki’s tics, at least that’s what Izuku had deemed them to be, had calmed down and Kirishima wasn’t hitting anything at all. 

Each of them were so content with each other, he wondered why they were kept apart. Y/N finished her food and each of the boys told her that they were proud of her. Which made bright blushes rise across her whole body with a smile. 

Eventually their dishes were taken from them and they were all sent down to the nurses station for their nightly meds before they would be sent upstairs for the night, Izuku followed after the group seeing as they were ready for the nightly meds.

Checking the time and seeing it was 9:00 pm on the dot, he waited patiently for them to receive their meds and come back. He quietly heard the mutter from Y/N as they counted which meds were there, “..seroquel and gabitril.. For sleep.. And Abilify for depression.`` They took their meds and smiled at Izuku, motioning him to follow them as they bounded up the stairs.

Izuku hummed softly following them back up the stairs placing his clipboard on a bedside table as he watched them get ready for bed as he smiled softly, when Y/N finally laid down humming into their mountain of pillows, all doctors approved.

“Good night… thank you for hanging out with me..” Izuku smiled as your voice echoed quietly in the small room causing his heart to flutter with how soft and sleepy you sounded. 

“Of course. I hope you sleep well Y/N” he hummed softly as he exited the room hearing your snores. Shortly after his words slipped past his lips, he exited and saw all the other boys' doors were closed. Figuring they were asleep too. He headed down to the staff room to put away his clipboard when he remembered that he wanted to check on Kirishima’s and Kaminaris files. 

He slowly searched through the last names, conveniently the two names were placed right together making sure that he wouldn’t forget about the other. With a soft hum he pulled out Kirishima’s file first. 

   F I L E   26

(Patient Name) Ejirou Kirishima  (Patient #785)

 (Date admitted) 10-25-2015

 (Patient age) 22

 (Patient disorder) Psychosis, Congenital insensitivity to pain. 

(History/cause)  Patient has seemed to believe that he is indestructible. He walks into walls and punches glass things, often resulting in scars and bleeding around his body, his mother has stated that he’s done this since he was little but always assumed he would grow out of it. He never did.

(Has patient...)

-attempted suicide? 

-attempted homicide?

-attempted any act of self-harm? 

-attempted violence on past employees?

-attempted escape?

 (Other). He’s very affectionate to those around him but often tries to prove his manliness to those around him. He always smashes his fists together declaring the manliness/womanlyness of those around him. 

(Danger level) 7/10

Izuku let out a breath as he quietly looked at the file over one more time before placing it back. He felt sorry for the red head but it explained the scar littered on his body. It also explained why he was calling everything manly.

 F I L E   27

(Patient Name) Denki Kaminari  (Patient #786)

 (Date admitted) 4-20-12

 (Patient age) 21

 (Patient disorder) Tourette Syndrome, depression, anxiety

(History/cause)  Patient was diagnosed with Tourettes around 6 years old, but his parents have said he’s always displayed symptoms of it even from toddler age. He stuck his finger in an electrical socket when he was 7 and it caused the scars going up his arms. 

(Has patient...)

-attempted suicide? 

-attempted homicide?

-attempted any act of self-harm? 

-attempted violence on past employees?

-attempted escape?

 (Other). He’s very cheeking, loves telling jokes and is relativity an easy going guy, he rarely has attacks but when he does i advise all employees to watch out because he gets urges to touch electricity, and mess with electrical setups 

(Danger level) 5/10

Izuku carefully placed the file back into the cabinet as he let out a breath. No wonder they all saw something in each other. They all had such similar stories, even if they weren’t exactly the same they all found solace in each other.

Y/N was missing a mother, father and brother figure in her life, which is why she pursued a relationship with Todoroki, Bakugou and Kirishima. Who all gave off the vibes that the poor younger needed to thrive. 

Todoroki was missing his sister and brother, which is why he connected so well with Denki and Y/N, they both held similar qualities to the two he had lost.. 

 Bakugou needed stable, but fun people to help him realize what a calm world this really was.. And that’s why he bonded with Todoroki, Shinsou. Kirishima, Denki and Y/N. They were all as equally calm as they were cheeky, meaning they could help Bakugou with whatever problem was needed. 

Shinsou was missing his parents and his little baby sister, so while he still had the parents to bond with during visiting hours. He treated each of these people as if they were a little sibling to him.

Kaminari finally felt accepted because none of them batted an eye when his tics happened, and it made him feel like he finally had a family, and he was finally happy.. 

Kirishima felt protected. While he enjoyed feeling power and being manly.. Sometimes it was nice to feel protected. None of them ever questioned how manly he was.. So he felt at peace 

Nothing could separate them. Nothing at all, Izuku was sure of it. He placed everything back before he finally headed back up to his own room. Finishing his nightly routine as he thought of the group he’d met today as he started falling into dream land. «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» @buckyneedsplums @lazywriterfullofideas09 @notchittatenn @psycho-101  @toodarktoseethelight @unlogical-ella  if you’re crossed out that’s because it wouldn’t let me tag you :( «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

a/n: HI GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM THE DEAD!! In a moment of clarity i finally decided to work on this chapter. It’s been hard for me but you know i finally did it! Like i stated earlier I've never been to a mental hospital so i don’t know what it’s like in there. I tried my best using the information  friend had given me. Thank you guys for sticking with the story for as long as you have! 

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

i need to tell someone abt this bc it annoys on god and ik i don't got tourettes

also srry this isnt tokyorev related so sorry :(

but i got this thing I've had for years and idk what to call it but its kinda like a tic??

I will get these weird shivers out of nowhere in which I'll arch my shoulders and have like a whole body shiver or (and the more common one) I shake my head aggressively and squeal along with shaking my arms and this happens for 0.05 seconds but it still earns stares from people and its embarrassing asf...

idfk what to call that shit but its weird ad it happens like once a day

my mom has noticed it too and I've been doing it for years ://// weird right???

Yeah I've never heard of that before, hope it doesn't bother you that much anon. People have no right to stare at you for it though they should be minding their own business. I don't think it makes you weird either, it's just something you do, a moment which then passes.

[misskittysmagicportal]

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.15 "Torture Abroad"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, divorce mention, parent death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, foster care, beach setting, noncon/dubcon (explicit, 18+), general NSFW and sexual themes/language, broken bone mention, stockholm syndrome-type themes, self injury mention, bat used as a weapon, injury/gore (explicit), knife mention, taser mention, bondage/chains, torture with a bunch of different weapons, bystander watching torture, hallucinations, fire mention, panic attack, tics/tourettes (let me know if I missed anything!!)

"You're going to love it here," August was saying, one of his hands wrapped lazily around the wheel and the other placed on Elias's thigh, "I'm gonna show you so many beautiful places."

Elias was looking out the window at all the deep green trees and lush scenery, in utter disbelief that he was actually here. "You're really from here?"

"Yeah, after my parents got divorced my mom took me to America. I come back all the time though." He turned and smiled at Elias, squeezing his thigh gently. "Beautiful, isn't it? I'll have to teach you some French."

Elias nodded in agreement at the suggestion. "I cannot believe I'm in France." With literal Satan, he thought, then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The car was nice, a deep red that Elias thought fit August well enough. It was something fancy and foreign, and August had laughed at his surprised face when he walked right up to it in the parking garage of the airport. At first, Elias thought he was going to steal it, but then August had the keys in his hand and inside of the car was a wallet that had one of his older licenses in it. Elias noticed that he drove it with ease, like it was where he belonged, behind the expensive leather wheel, driving much quicker than he probably should be on the winding roads. For a moment, he found himself thinking about how attractive it was, and the realization made him incredibly ashamed in himself, so embarrassed and disgusted that he felt physically sick at it.

They drove for awhile longer, then they arrived at a huge house on the side of a hill, overlooking a beach. When Elias stepped out of the car the chill breeze swept through his clothes and hair, and he took a deep breath. It was beautiful, and he guessed that if he had to be anywhere with August, it may as well be here.

He jumped as August grabbed him from behind, looping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. He placed gentle kisses against his neck, humming with content. "I'm so happy you're here, angel."

Elias sighed and tipped his head back against August's shoulder. "It's so pretty," he breathed, "just... breathtaking."

August chuckled and pulled off of him. "Come on, we'll go sight seeing later," he teased, taking his hand and pulling him down the drive to the house.

It was even more beautiful on the inside; there were large, open windows that the sunlight danced through and soaked over everything it landed on, intricate designs carved and painted on the ceiling and walls, and huge, exquisite paintings that were probably more expensive than everything Elias owned combined.

"This is your house?" He asked August, who was already making himself busy opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen. Elias could see from his spot in the middle of the living room that the kitchen was just as glamorous.

"It was my father's, yeah. He left it to my sister and I after he died. Maybe you'll get to meet her, if she comes around." His voice was lightly conversational, like he was talking about the weather and not his dead dad, but really Elias would have been more surprised if he'd let any emotion into the sentence.

Elias took the wine glass as it was handed to him, looking down at the dark red with his lip caught in his teeth. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, cueing August to frown at him. "What is it?" He asked.

"It's just... I dunno, my whole life I was just tossed around foster homes and group homes and this...this is something I never would have thought would happen." He laughed again, shaking his head. "I mean, I'm drinking wine in France. It's just weird."

August nodded his head, looking thoughtful before finally saying, "I didn't know you were a foster kid."

Elias shook his head, instantly wanting to change the subject. August had seen him crying, begging, screaming, bleeding, August had seen him dead, but talking about his past with him seemed way more vulnerable than all of that. He didn't want August to know about his selfish parents who decided that they loved drugs more than they loved their twitchy son, he didn't want him to know that Elias didn't have any friends until he was in high school because he moved foster homes and schools faster than he could blink, he really didn't want him to know about the way he used to stay up late trying to find his parents online so he could try and contact them, try to convince them to take him back, and cry when he couldn't find them. August had control over him in so many ways, and Elias was going to make sure that touchy, personal information was kept that way. August would never know him that intimately, if he could help it.

He tasted the wine, trying to stay in the moment. He focused on the lush fruitiness of the drink instead of the looming fear of being alone with August. He focused on the way the light illuminated some of the dust floating around the room instead of the despair he felt about being away from Tyson.

"Do you wanna walk down to the beach?" August asked him, stepping closer to him as he spoke. "It'll be dark soon, we can watch the sun set."

Elias smiled at him, drinking some more wine. He wished it was something stronger, being sober around August was just so unbearably frightening. "I never would've pegged you as a romantic," he chuckled, "this wine must be strong, huh?"

August shook his head, taking Elias's wine glass from him and setting them both down on the side table next to the couch. "I've just been too stressed out to be romantic." He looked Elias up and down with a grin, then scooped him up into his arms, laughing at the astonished squeal he let out.

He carried him out of the house and down a short walkway to the beach, setting him gently in the sand once they were close to the water. After Elias straightened himself out, he stared up at August with wide eyes. He looked like he was waiting for something, expecting something, and when August took his hand in his own he flinched a little.

"Why do you look so bothered, bunny?" He asked, stepping closer and running his thumb over the back of his hand. He knew, just from touching it, that this was his injured hand, the one he'd broken with a hammer. The tendons and bones hadn't healed right, they felt mangled and torn up when he pressed against them. The way Elias's face twitched at the reawakened pain was absolutely mouthwatering, August tried to imagine the noises he would make if he very slowly broke it all over again.

Elias plastered on a strained smile, looking out toward the waves wistfully. "I'm not used to you being so gentle with me. Trying to uh...to not let myself get so wrapped up in it."

August sighed at the words, trailing his fingers over Elias's cheek, leaning over and kissing him softly. "You're so smart," he cooed, "but don't worry you're pretty self too much, I'll be careful. You're more fragile than I thought."

A trembling breath shook Elias's shoulders, but he knew that if he allowed himself to cry he would be in trouble. So, he pressed himself flush against August and kissed him hard, desperate for something to numb him. He hadn't finished his wine, he hadn't had any drugs in who knows how long, and the only other thing he knew would distract him from the fear for a moment was...handing himself over to the very thing causing it.

At one point they ended up down in the sand, clothes tossed aside carelessly. Elias forgot how great sex could be, when he wasn't being choked or beaten or butchered. He was waiting for August to turn on him any second, for his tender touches to turn to harsh, aggressive punches, or his sweet words to twist into hateful insults. It would happen any second, it was a miracle it hadn't already. He couldn't even believe how much August seemed to be enjoying it so far, Elias wasn't bloody or bruised up or even crying yet.

"Ah, my angel," August hummed, his lips against Elias's neck, "oh God you feel so good."

Elias gasped, arching his back against the sand. He clutched at August's arm hard, whimpering softly. He was baffled when August began to jerk him off; he hardly ever touched him like that towards the end, before things got messy, instead trying to fuck him until he came, until he was shaking and in tears, begging for help, for friction, for something. He moaned out at the touch, writhing just a little underneath him.

"Ah, fuck, August," he breathed, "jesus christ!" August pressed closer against him, kissing gently at his throat, moaning against his skin.

Once August finished, he pulled off of him, and Elias thought that was it. Yet again, left bothered and unfinished. He sighed and tipped his head back, trying to steady himself. It was ok this way, he had gotten through it without any new bruises or cuts, he wasn't hurt, he could deal with blue balls. But then, August was kissing down his torso, over his hips, on the insides of his thighs. When he started to suck him off, Elias whined loudly and reached down to tangle his fingers in his hair. He could feel August's hands holding him steady, those strong, rough hands that were hovering on the edge of being gentle and inflicting pain on him. It would happen any second now, this time Elias was sure, with how his fingers were tight around his hips.

"Au-August!" He moaned, writhing underneath his grip. He hated hearing himself moaning that name, hated that he was receiving pleasure from someone who he wanted to hate so badly, someone who had hurt him and the people he cared about. Once again, he was repulsed by himself, and he would have pushed August off of him if he wasn't right about to-

He gasped sharply as he came, shaking in August's hands. His breathing was labored as he relaxed, looking up at August as he crawled back on top of him. He felt tears in his eyes, that heavy guilt and disgust in himself weighing him down, pressing him into the sand harder than August was. August took his face in his hands, running his thumb over his cheek gently.

"You're so beautiful, bunny," he hummed, "I missed having you all to myself."

Elias frowned, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to look at him anymore. "It's so weird without you." His voice was faraway, and when August pulled away from him he sat up. "No one understood. I was just fucking up all the time and no one would punish me and I just felt...I felt..." He trailed off, shaking his head. What was it that he felt? He was glad to be away from August when he was, right? So what else could he have been feeling besides relief? Why, when he was looking back on it now, did it all seem so shitty and hopeless?

August sighed, petting his hair gently. "That sounds hard, angel. I hate thinking of you all alone, so lost."

"I had to hurt myself," Elias whispered, "no one else would so I had to do it myself."

August fell silent, then he pulled away and looked at Elias for a long time. The look on his face was undecipherable, Elias couldn't tell if he was disappointed or delighted at what he told him, and he only grew more confused when he let out a short laugh and stood up.

"Come on, little one. Get your clothes on." As he spoke, he pulled his own sand covered pants back on, and Elias got up and did the same. August took his hand and led him back up to the house, now eerily silent.

Once they were inside, August sat Elias down on the couch, wordlessly walking down the hallway. Elias was overwhelmed by his sudden quietness, August always had something to say about everything, and Elias hated not knowing what he was thinking about. It was the same as when Elias told him what happened to his face in the car, the deafening silence that made him feel like any minute August would flip out and just start screaming. As he waited for August to come back and do just that, he grabbed the glass of wine that was taken from him earlier and downed the rest of it.

"Come here, Eli!" August was suddenly calling. Elias stood up with a groan, shuffling down the long hallway. He peered into the rooms he walked past, frowning when he didn't see August in any of them.

"Where are you?" He heard the sound of floorboards creaking distantly, but the all the rooms were too big to really distinguish where the noise came from. When he thought he heard some shuffling in one of the rooms, he ducked into it and looked around, sighing when he was met with silence and an empty room. "August?" He whined.

He cried out when something solid slammed into the back of legs, making him crumple to the ground with a thud. He turned to see August standing over him, a wooden bat swinging carelessly in his hand. Elias scrambled away from him, eyes huge and already full of tears.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" He cried. August stayed silent still, and Elias grew even more panicked as he got closer. He just wanted August to say something, anything at all, so that at least he wasn't as confused. The bat swung again, this time cracking against his shoulder. Elias screamed in pain as he hit the floor, his body lit up in a blinding ache. August dropped the bat soon after, then yanked Elias up to his feet.

When Elias couldn't stand and collapsed against him with a sob, August merely grabbed a fist full of his hair and forced him to stand straight. He couldn't stifle his sobs, they weren't even his own at this point, his pain and fear were ripping them out of him violently. "Ple-please stop!" His legs were weak and battered, but every time he wobbled and nearly fell again, August's hand tightened and twisted harshly in his hair and he forced himself to straighten out again.

August dragged him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, not waiting for him when he stumbled and tripped. As they approached a flight of stairs, Elias's panic grew further. He couldn't even walk right as it was, how was he supposed to conquer stairs?

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to try to wobble down them, because once they got to the top, August unceremoniously shoved him down the hard steps.

He landed hard at the bottom, breathless and dazed from the pain. He choked on broken gasps, his chest tight from not being able to breathe. When he heard August's steps coming down the stairs he let out a hushed whine of fear.

"That looked painful," he remarked, crouching down to inspect his face, "I thought you'd catch yourself."

Elias finally gasped in a breath, groaning in between coughs. August hoisted him up again, giving him more support since he really couldn't stand on his own this time. "Ah fuck," he sniffled, dropping his head toward his chest, "ow..."

After a few more steps, Elias's arm was yanked up above his head, earning an agonized howl. He felt cold metal wrapping around his wrist, snapping shut. When he looked up, his arm was raised above his head by a chain bolted into the ceiling. As he stared at it in horror, August secured his other arm as well, then let go of him completely.

Elias's shoulders and wrists were screaming, he couldn't stand on his own, and without August he was left drooped over, dangling by the chains. He began to rethink everything that happened before that moment, trying to figure out what he did wrong to warrant this painful and humiliating punishment. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it because of his behavior on the plane? Or because he had almost refused to come with August? He started to cry again, quiet whimpers now in replacement of his loud, panicked sobs from moments ago. When he ticced, a whole new pain coursed through his body.

"I'm s-so fucking sor...sorry!" He choked out, looking up at August as he cried. "Please August, please, I'm sorry!"

August grinned at him, at his desperate begging, at how ruined he looked, slumped over under the chains. "You're so gorgeous, Eli," he praised, turning away from him and beginning to dig through a bag against the wall. He pulled out a large camera, and Elias let out another hopeless sob. "You're so much prettier than Allen, you know that?" Elias didn't know why he would say that, he didn't care about Allen or how pretty Allen was or which one of them August liked more, he couldn't care about anything stupid like that, not when his world was painted bright red with suffering. He snapped a picture, and Elias flinched at the flash, just as he always did. "Stay still, bunny."

Elias did as he was told, hoping if he pleased August enough he could be let down. The flash went off a few more times, and as August lowered the camera, Elias collapsed in on himself with a quiet, agonized whimper. "Please Aug-August, it hu-hurts so bad..."

August began to dig through his bag again, and Elias screwed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain. His shoulder, the one that took the blow from the bat, was on fire now, his fingertips numb. When he felt August's palm against his waist, he relaxed a fraction. It was over, he told himself, August was going to let him down and comfort him now. But then something cold was pressed against his ribcage, and just as he opened his eyes to see what it was, a burning pain jolted through his entire body. He convulsed at the shock, his teeth hurting from how hard he bit down. It seemed to last for hours, and when it finally stopped he collapsed further, now exhausted and in an insurmountable degree of pain. It couldn't get worse than this, and if it did Elias thought he just might die.

"Oh, you're so quiet now, little one," August sighed, grabbing his face and forcing him to look up. Elias caught sight of a small handheld taser in his other hand. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Elias sobbed, nodding feebly. "No m-more."

August smiled at him, then tased him once again. This time, Elias let out a guttural, agonized scream, writhing against the chains. This time it went on for so long that when it stopped, Elias passed out, only held up by the chains. When he came to, he looked up at August with tear stained cheeks and hopeless eyes. He wasn't begging anymore, couldn't get the words out, but the look on his face was just as good. August could have stared at him for hours, for days, if he kept making that face. He would give up food and water and oxygen and sunlight if it meant he could stay down here in the basement with Elias and just look at him forever, observe every inch of his body and how it reacted to the pain, memorize all the different ways he could scream and beg, taste his tears and see if there was a difference in the ones from torture and fear. He wanted to know Elias, inside and out, in all the most vulnerable ways, in ways that no human should ever know another.

But he couldn't do that, he had plans. That would have to wait. And besides, they had all the time in the world now, with no one knowing where to look for them.

"I've gotta run to the store, ok?" He said, his voice teasing. "You wait here and be good, and I'll let you out when I get back." He ruffled Elias's hair, watching his face sink further into despair.

"No, please! God please let me down it hurts!" He tugged against the chains, panic ripping through every muscle as he thrashed against his restraints. It was useless, August was already walking away, ignoring his pleading.

It felt like he was gone for hours, and Elias had a headache from the stress and how much he was crying. He was so exhausted, the pain was so intense he couldn't think straight, it was all a jumbled mess blurred together by the delirium of his injuries. Every now and then he forgot where he was, had to lift up his head, which felt like it was made of lead, and then remind himself that he had somehow found himself in a basement in France. Of course it would end up like this for him. Of course he would finally leave the country and go somewhere nice just to end up chained up in a basement.

When he finally heard footsteps on the stairs, he began tugging at the chains again, eager to get out before he even saw August. He didn't notice the other voice until August was at the bottom of the steps, a stranger at his side. Elias froze in confusion for a moment, then the insane aching all over his body pushed past that and he pulled at the chains again.

"August p-p-please let me down please I can't ta-take it anymore!" His gut twisted when August and the man laughed at him, and he had to try really, really hard to not start crying again.

"You look tired, angel," August teased, then turned to the other man, "je pense qu'il très fatigue." (I think he's really tired.)

The man nodded along with him, looking him up and down in curiosity. "Oui, mais il est beaux. Oh, regarde sa précieuse petite tête." (Yes, but he is beautiful. Oh, look at his precious little head.)

Elias let out an agitated sob, going weak at the hopelessness. He didn't know what they were saying, just that they sounded like they were talking about an animal they were discussing purchasing. August stepped forward. Elias noticed he smelled like booze, then he noticed his lopsided smile matched the one the man behind him was wearing. They were both drunk, and that meant Elias was undeniably fucked. August ran his hand through Elias's hair, pleased at the broken cries it caused. "Exhaustion looks so good on you, Eli." With that, he turned away and grabbed his bag, the same one he'd been hiding his camera and taser in, the same one Elias had kept wondering what other torture devices where hidden in while August was gone, prompting Elias to scream again.

"No! No more, please, please August!"

His begging was futile, August closed in on him quickly with a huge butcher knife, sliding it teasingly against Elias's chest before actually using it. When he started slicing into him, it seemed rather reckless and Elias was horrified he was going to do something irreversible to him. After he got bored of the knife, he sauntered back to the bag to look for another instrument.

Elias was covered in blood already, and he realized that his legs were completely useless by now, the chains in the ceiling were the only reason he was upright. He heard August say something in French again, and when he looked up to try and be as much apart of their conversation as he could, he saw that the stranger he had brought down with him had his phone held up, recording all of it with a satisfied grin on his face.

August used a belt, next, causing Elias to positively shriek in pain every time it made harsh contact with his already cut up body. Every now and then, he would stop what he was doing and step close to Elias, whispering so that only he could hear him, saying "you're so perfect like this, my love," or "you have no idea what it does to me when you scream like that, bunny" and it made Elias want to throw up.

He must've used everything in his bag on Elias. He'd hit him with the belt, cut him with a knife, shocked him, beat him with brass knuckles, burned him with a torch, and those were only the ones that Elias was present enough to understand what was being done to him. After all of that, he got lost in the waves of pain and the sounds of his own screams and begs, and then he was unaware of whatever tool August was using to cause it all.

They left the room without a word, or maybe they did say something and he was just too drunk on the pain to notice, when they were done, leaving Elias alone and trembling and lightheaded. His body felt fuzzy and disconnected from him, but the pain was still all too real, too intense. A flash of light caught his eye from the side, and it was nearly impossible to lift his head enough to see what it was. His vision was swimming at the movement, it made him instantly nauseous, and he had to squint really hard to be able to see clearly. When he was able to focus, he was even more confused. Was it...a fire? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the tiny flame started to grow bigger, slithering up the wall on the other side of the basement. Elias wasn't sure of the when or why or how the fire started, all he knew was that it was getting bigger so fast and he was chained up and couldn't move and he was going to be burned alive.

"August!" He tried to scream, his voice so strained and broken up that it was hardly audible. He doubted that August heard him, and then he was even more horrified. The fire was getting closer and he couldn't even call for help, there was nothing he could do. Then he wondered if August had done this on purpose. It made sense, he had chained him up and hurt him so bad that he couldn't move even if he wasn't chained up, made him scream so loud that no one could hear his cries for help, then he lit a fire so he could kill him. It was a well orchestrated plan, Elias had to give him that, and he never even saw it coming.

What he did see coming, though, was the fire, now climbing up the ceiling and creeping across the floor toward him. As much as he could in his broken state, he scrambled back toward the wall, the chains rattling uselessly above him. He was going to die, he was going to die and there was no saving him this time.

He was surprised when he heard himself scream another time, he must've been so scared he forced his shredded vocal chords to work for a moment. "August please help me!!" He shrieked, closing his eyes tight so he wouldn't see the flames that would engulf him any second.

When he felt hands on him, he let out a measly, horrified squeak, cowering away from it, thinking it was the flames he was so horrified of. "Elias what is wrong with you? Why are you screaming?" That was August, talking to him now. But why was August here if he was trying to kill him? And why was he asking him why he was screaming?

When he worked up the courage to open his eyes, the fire was gone, August was standing in front of him. Elias gasped a few times, he didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. "The...August..." He sobbed as August began to take the chains off. "There was a f-fire. A hu...huge fire, in the corner." He collapsed right against August's chest as soon as the chains were off, felt his arms wrap around his ruined body to catch him before he fell right to the floor.

August lowered him to the floor, then pulled away and pushed his hair out of his face to inspect him further. He was frowning as he looked into Elias's panicked eyes. "Oh, you poor thing, you're hallucinating," he spoke like he was talking to a child with scraped knees, "there's no fire, angel. It's all ok, you're ok."

Elias looked around the basement again, there was no fire, no burn marks anywhere. "B...But I saw it." Thanks to the final scream he'd let out, his voice was just barely above a hoarse whisper. "I saw it, August."

August sighed heavily, then he stood and hoisted up and over his shoulder. Elias whimpered at the harsh movement, but he didn't mind the pain so much when he realized that August was taking him back upstairs. He was so relieved when he realized that going upstairs meant that the punishment was over, that he wasn't going to be engulfed by flames or simply left to dangle under the chains all night. It was over, he told himself. He counted to ten, it was over. He was set down gently on the couch, it was over. August was speaking to him, but he wasn't listening because it was over, and that was all that mattered.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

let me just tell you that i saw adhd sokka on your page and got SO EXCITED i literally squealed out loud (and i. don't squeal.) i just love the way you see him and i've only seen one post of yours so i'm excited to see more!

ahhhhhh omigosh please mY HEART

thank you so much !!! it makes me really happy that people relate to / like the way that i interpret sokka’s character—especially mental health / neurological disorders wise!

adhd tourettic sokka is like. all i think about😂

no but seriously THANK YOU🥺 i hope you’re having a great day<3

[didderd]

I'm trying to do some research about tourettes totally not for fanart and stumbled upon a question that I couldn't find answered... so I hope it's okay to ask! Being really happy or excited or flustered, can those kinds of heightened emotions start more tics??

(I did research in my own language, as I'm not great with reading too much english at a time, and damn my country needs to pick up some serious slack???)

I hope it's okay to ask, if not, I'm so sorry and you can just ignore this! 😭❤️

no dw! i'm happy to answer this! i like talking about it, and i'm happy to teach. <3

the short answer: yes

long answer under the cut :3 (tw: tics. mild self harm mention.)

emotions, especially strong ones, can contribute a lot to tics, and even the type of tic they're having.

i'm speaking almost purely from experience here, so this could be very different for others! but:

i get happy tics, excited tics, anxious tics, etc.

the biggest one i think is excited tics. could be the same things a person would stim when excited. usually for me, it's screaming/shrieking, squealing/squeaking, high-pitched hum, hitting whatever surface is in front of me.

my happy tics are usually similar to the above, but more often it's high-pitched humming or squealing.

flustered will also likely be high-pitched humming or squealing/squeaking, or hitting a surface.

my anxiety tics are more stilted. jolty and tense. i might shake, jolt/jerk, hit my arm/chest/etc, even pull my hair, or scratch. (the SH tics are more often triggered by feelings of self-hate, which are often a part of anxiety/triggered by it)

all that being said, people will not tic if they are very focused on something, so a person will not tic during intimate moments no matter how excited or happy they are. (unless they're distracted, which most likely means their partner is not doing a very good job keeping them in the moment.)

hope this helps! :3

[just-tourettic]

One of the worst things about my tourettes, I think, is how because of it there are things and emotions I cant hide. Like when I'm dealing with my C-PTSD. It's already hard, I'm already struggling with the nightmares and the panic and the flashbacks... but what's worse is that, even when I want to, I cant hide those things from people. Tourettes works in tandem with stress and anxiety, so the worse those things get for me, the worse my tics become. Like last night for example... I woke my fiancee up multiple times, hitting myself or the wall or even suppressing some of my louder (screaming and squealing) tics. I think that's one of the things I hate the most...

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Chapter One: Moving In

This whole series contains trigger warnings such as: gun violence, blood, gore, some angst. (Probably a lot of angst it’s me😂)

She was Clay’s daughter, looking for a place to rent out in Tacoma, Washington near the Tacoma Community College where she was going for an Accounting degree. Her mother lives near Spokane, which was too far to commute and there was no on-campus housing. So she was stuck finding somewhere to rent in Tacoma.

She spent all day looking for anything to rent but she couldn’t find a single room. Her mother, in the passenger seat of her little 2002 Nissan, jabs her finger towards a sign stabbed into a tall patch of grass. At first she curls her nose, looking at the less-than-adequate housing when her eye spots the twinkling black Dyna in the driveway.

“Honey, looks can be deceiving.” She nudges your shoulder with hers and gives you a little wave towards the driveway. With a sigh, she pulls into the driveway and gives her mom one last look of concern. “Baby, if you don’t like the person you don’t have to do it, but it is for rent.” She raises her brows at her daughter and the young woman huff, giving a nod. She was right. But she was sure whoever was the Percy old man behind that door, you were gonna find any reason to—. A lawn mower motor whirs to life and she jumps, hitting her head on the ceiling.

“Great, and he’s a chainsaw murderer, I’m gonna die mom. I hope you’re happy.” She barks, getting out and promptly shutting the door. Walking towards the lawnmower running, and what she finds attached to the lawnmower makes her jaw drop. A tall blonde man, build strong and wide in the shoulder. His stance was a little intimidating, but she found a little confidence to approach him.

“I’m here for the room for rent sign?” She stammers, wringing her fingers together.

“Your name?” He asks, shutting off the mower and drawing a towel from his pocket and wiping his hands off.

“I’m Vanessa Halen Morrow.” She sticks a hand at him, her fingers quaking. His ringed hand grips hers in a firm, yet gentle shake.

“How old are you?” He asks, looking out to her car and giving her mom a wave. She glances just in time to see her mother give him a knowing smile and a nod.

“I’m twenty-two. I just got enough saved up for my first semester so I want to get an accounting degree and find a better job.” She stammers, glancing up at him once more to find captivating, smiling blue eyes looking down at her.

“Alright, that your mom?” He asks, pointing to the car. She nods, heading that way. “She saw my Dyna when you two pulled in.” He steps in front of her and gets to the car first, popping open her driver’s door and crouching down to see her mother.

“Nice bike, kid. You a Son?” She asks, nodding to him.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods. “You okay with her renting here?”

“You gonna protect her?” He glances over his shoulder at the young woman. “Sure.” He nods.

“Her father is SAMCRO president. Don’t fuck this up.” She raises an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“She’s a roommate.” He rolls his eyes and stands, swiping his hands on his pants to tower over her small frame. “If you need help moving stuff in, cool. You can have the room.” He nods, watching her grin with excitement.

“Thank you! You’re amazing!” She squeals, gripping him in a tight hug. When she lets go, she finds him looking at her with a half-concerned expression. “What is your name?” She asks. A tiny smirk curves the corner of his lips.

“Kozik.”

It’s move in day, and she’s more excited than anything. As she heads to Kozik’s, she grabs two monsters and a granola bar before making the four hours drive to Tacoma. Just as she pulls in, she finds the Tacoma man standing on the porch on the phone. His leather kutte hugged to his shoulders, her heart pounding as she makes her way up the steps with her bag.

“Yeah, I know. Yeah. Hey. I got a roommate moving in right now. I’ll call you back.” He claps the phone shut and drops it into his pocket before facing her with a smile. Grabbing the couple of bags from her arms and hauling them inside, he waves the cute girl into the kitchen. “Hey, I gotta head out, but uh. Here’s your key. I need you to sign this lease. And if you don’t mind, I already paid rent this month, so don’t worry, but next month its two-hundred for the room and we split the bills. I’ll go over the rest when I get back. Uh, so.. I guess get comfy, don’t worry about that big stuff outside I’ll have a few guys come over and move it in for ya. There’s a couple pocket knives in this drawer, and a pistol.” He pulls open a drawer to expose his little arsenal. “Where do you work at?” He asks, shutting the drawer.

“I’m still finding a job in Tacoma. I had one lined up but they gave the position to someone else.” She finds concern in his eyes, but he quickly hides it with a smile.

“Alrighty then. Just make sure you got the two hundred, okay? And get comfy. Like I said, I’ll have a couple prospects come over and move your stuff in.” He smiles, giving her a wave before he disappears out the door, leaving her there alone. She wasn’t one to be scared, but she found it uncomfortable in a new place that she didn’t know, to be left alone without the brute of a roommate she’d acquired. Though, if she were being honest, she had a feeling being alone here would be pretty normal for her.

While stuffing her clothes into her dresser that Kozik had moved in for her, she hears a ding at door and head for the sound. When she pulls open the door she finds two thin, gangly looking bikers standing before her with awkward smiles on their similarly long faces.

“Kozik sent us, to move furniture?” One finally speaks, sticking out a hand to her in peace.

“Yeah! Uh, everything is in that trailer. It just needs to be moved into the bedroom on the left. Do you want help?” She asks, pulling on a ball cap to shade her eyes from the burning sun and going for her shoes.

“Nah, Kozik said you should stay in the house and be comfy. I’m Lugnut, by the way. That’s what they call me. This is Chip, he’s pretty quiet. And don’t yell real loud, he jumps when women yell.” She looks up to the tall bigger man with black shoulder length hair and a crooked nose to find his cheeks tinted a light dusty pink, and he scowled at his friend before looking to the ground embarrassed.

“Don’t you worry, Chip, I won’t yell and yet ya.” She grins, patting his shoulder and a bright grin fills his face with glee and he gives a soft huff in content.

“Well, alrighty then. Chip let’s get this shit unloaded.” The shorter of the two heads out towards the trailer, Chip following closely behind.

She’s in the kitchen finding them something to eat when she hears Lugnut heave a sigh and she looks over her shoulder at the two. They looked pretty tired. She fixed them each a cold ham sandwich and a glass of iced tea, all things she’d found.

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose—“

“Impose? You two carried in all my things I can at least thank you. Sit down.” She smiles, patting the bar stools against the bar before scampering off to the kitchen to make herself something.

“Why do they call you Chip anyway?” She asks, munching on a dorito.

“Cause of this b-big scar.” He lowers his head, pushing back his black curly hair to expose a huge darker red mark on his forehead. “And cause when I get a bout of Tourette’s I say ‘Chip chip’.” He shyly goes back to his sandwich.

“You have Tourette’s huh?” She asks, smiling at him. He just nods, the embarrassment filling his cheeks. “What’s the matter?” She coos, reaching and grasping his shoulder.

“You prolly wanna laugh, huh? chip chip.” He mutters, his shoulders raising with each ‘chip’.

“No, hunny. Of course not!” She gently squeezes his shoulder. “You’re a great guy, Chip. I don’t see why you’d think I’d laugh at you, you’re too adorable.” She giggles, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Shoot. A pretty lady like you, you ought to not flatter a big dummy like me. Chip chip.” He shakes his head as Lugnut claps his shoulder. She takes a chance, pulling Chip into a big hug, which he gladly returns, with big warm arms.

“See you two later, yeah?” She calls as they make it out the door.

“Bye!” Chip calls, giving her a big grin and a sweet wave.

“Hey!” Kozik calls, hearing nothing in return. Weird. He peeks around the corner to find her standing in the kitchen in shorts and a tee shirt, scrubbing the dishes in the sink while her hips bop to the music she’s playing on her phone. “You sure like Chip, huh?” He chuckles, catching her attention.

“I do, he’s a real sweetheart.” She chuckles, fondly recalling the earlier events. His big happy grin.

“Well, I’m gonna find something to eat. You’re more than welcome to hang out in the living room. I’m gonna watch Ace Ventura or something.” He chuckles, disappearing to the living room.

[surgeonsoath]

— ♡ EVENING!! I had a lot on my plate today as I decided last night that I would reduce my DVDS from roughly 400 to 200. So I had to take those to be sold. I then met a friend and we were way too early for the bus so we had some lunch and then we went to see A Quiet Place II. To say we nearly had about 3 heart attacks is an understatement. I think everyone kept getting annoyed as whenever something else dramatic happened I couldn’t help but squeal or whatever. I’m usually silent in the cinema too. But I’m proud of Alex. They have tourettes and they didn’t tic once in the cinema. 

So I also came out to my mum as Asexual the other day and man it's a relief off my shoulders. I think she understood that more than me saying I was Bisexual...well Biromantic but try explaining that to my mum. She thinks the reason I put on weight was a form of protection...so no one would want to do anything with me and I completely agree but it took mum pointing it out to me to make me realise. 

Anyway because of today and not being able to drink for 6 hours yesterday I am dehydrated and have a migraine coming on ( auras and everything ) so I’m going to quickly clean my room as its stressing me out and I had a bunch of packages arrive today and then I’m going to climb into bed. 

I will be posting an Updates post in a few minutes and I will post everyone I owe as I know it has been a while. I will also post my work schedule for this week. 

[monkeystrokes7]

           Will hadn’t expected much action his first night on the job, it being Halloween and all, but this was ridiculous. He’d been here three hours and the phone hadn’t rung once. At this rate, he’d finish his book by the time he got off at six a.m.

           Will dog-eared his place in Night Shift, a collection of Stephen King chillers. He’d been having fun until the one about murderous trucks driving themselves around to kill people. Sometimes King took things too far.

           Will shook an American Spirit out of the pack, grabbed his Zippo, bolted the trailer-office door (although who would be coming at this hour?) and stepped out back.

           October nights in Burgaw were as good as it got. Denim-jacket perfect. Humidity finally gone. The smell of burning leaves. How did that work, anyway? It was two in the morning. No one was burning leaves.

           Will lit up and took a long drag, staring up at the under-lit sign for Groovy Sol’s Impound & Salvage. He hadn’t spent much time with Groovy Sol, a fifteen-minute interview and even shorter walk around. Sol seemed nice enough, but more harried than groovy. His other guy had quit that afternoon. The job was a stroke of luck. Will had been laid off the second week of the pandemic.

           He was surprised at the number of cars in the backlot. When he’d accepted the job this afternoon, it had been a quarter full, tops. Tonight it was full up. Sol mentioned something about vehicles getting towed from a rally at the Fairgrounds, parking on medians and lawns, but it hadn’t sounded like more than three or four cars.

           Will took a lap under the glow of orange halogens. It didn’t take long to see what kind of rally it was. Almost every car and truck (it was mostly trucks) had messages taped to doors, soaped on windows, or flying on a flag.

           Say Merry Christmas, fucker!  

           Black Lives Splatter  

           I got a case of the DT’s!    

           Covid Schmovid  

           Get a brian, moran!

           Lock 'n' load, libs

           There was even an impounded boat named "Deplorably Happy" on a trailer, huge flags drooping from every rod holder, an inflatable sex-doll strapped into the fighting chair wearing a wetsuit and red ball cap reading "I’m a Don Ho’."

            After years of screaming “Family Values,” suddenly these people were okay with locking preschoolers in cages? Did aliens replace their brains overnight? Invasion of the Common Decency Snatchers?

           Will heard a shotgun blast from the other side of the trailer. Through the front window, he saw a sea of tiki torches, weed whackers, ax handles, pooper scoopers, burning Swiffers, Confederate flags, polyester Mar-a-Lago golf shirt knockoffs, beer-bellied militia boys with child-molester beards and red hats chanting “You will not repossess us.” It actually made a weird kind of logic. The herd was obviously already possessed, and could only be repossessed.

           And they were clearly hell-bent on getting their vehicles back without proper payment or paperwork. No sirree. Not on his watch. He needed this job. There was a pandemic going on.

           Not a mask in sight, the mob was packed together like a Falwell pool party.

           An office window smashed and a hatchet bounced off the paneling just over Will's head. The trailer rocked on its cinderblocks as the masses stormed the gate.

           During orientation Sol had opened the bottom drawer of the office desk, revealing the “Office Security System.” A Saturday night special and a gaucho bullet belt. Will pocketed the gun, slung the belt over his shoulder and flew to the back lot.

           He made for Sol’s ’67 VW bus under a makeshift service bay of 4x4s and corrugated tin next to a rack of bald tires. Peering through the tires, he saw the mob spilling into the impound lot, hacking up lungs and blowing snot, searching for their respective vehicles. Stephen King wasn't far-fetched after all. Keys turned and perforated mufflers revved. The roar made Darlington Raceway sound like a vibrator from the Dollar General. Will tied a bandanna over his mouth and sang “Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mother” under his breath.

           The killbillies went off the rails, firing tracer bullets and baying at the full moon, screaming "Fuck yeah" like deaf cheerleaders with Tourette's, circling in a demolition road rage, waving torches, cranking Skynyrd, smashing into unclaimed cars and each other.  

           Will spied a large gas can against the bay wall. The motorized circle of hate clogged as a rusted flatbed with no back gate sideswiped a codger wearing a My Pillow sweatshirt in a motorized wheelchair. Will grabbed the gas can, unscrewed the cap and swung it onto the gateless back of the truck.

           A monster F250 came careening around the bend, towing the impounded boat. For a heartbeat, Will thought the blow-up doll in the wetsuit had come to life. A Spandex-ed woman, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the inflatable, leapt off the outboard brandishing a six-foot gaff hook.

           Will threw a tire at her and missed. With a quick jab she skewered his thigh, ripping flesh as she twisted the barb. Will shot her in the ass and sent her squealing.

           That’s it, Will thought. No more snowflaking around.  

           The hook puncture was bad. Will fought to stay conscious, his head on the ground, watching the wheels go round and round. The rusted flatbed came around again, gas still dribbling from the can. Will dug the Zippo out of his pocket, flicked and tossed, and rolled for cover.

           "Ring of Fire" played in Will's head as flames burned-burned-burned, igniting the circling vehicles. The "1812 Overture" kicked in as gas tanks blew in a crescendoed finale of screams, combusting flags and body parts bursting in air.  

           It felt very patriotic. More Independence Day than Halloween.

           Will knew he'd be out of a job again. But it was getting close to dawn. The sun would be coming up, just like Little Orphan Annie promised.