#for me it's mostly just a bad stim

[gh0sthands]

whumpee who picks at their skin (maybe a nervous habit, an unhealthy stim, or as self harm), and caretaker who will gently take whumpee's hands in theirs to prevent the picking. who uses fidget/stim toys, hand holding, or anything else to prevent the picking without shaming whumpee.

caretaker who will help clean up whumpee's skin if necessary. who knows it's not an easy habit to break.

caretaker putting scar gel on whumpee, if they want it. kissing the scars. covering for whumpee if people ask about the wounds/scars. getting whumpee fun/unique bandaids (if they use them).

caretaker never judging whumpee for their stims, their habits, their coping methods, but helping whumpee work toward healthier ones

[vellichorsdesire]

Thinkiing about making a certain animegame boy a platonic f/o… staring out into the distance

[magdaclaire]

sometimes a post or something someone says or just anything can bring up such a specific grief in me

[kanmom51]

Are you sure? Jeju

Episode 3

I thought I would pack 3 moments together in this one.

3 moments of JK endeared by JM, caring for him and worried for him.

As the three arrived at the first restaurant in Jeju we learn that JM isn't feeling well. Feeling queasy. Very possibly motion sickness, although nothing confirmed.

On the other hand you had a JK who was all jumpy and happy letting us know that he's been to that restaurant in the past.

He and Tae practically run into the restaurant and get settled there. JM staying outside. We don't know for how long, but it's understandable he'd want to stay outside in the fresh air feeling the way he did.

As a whole it felt like JK was lighter in this trip. Happier. I'd go so far as say as if there had been a weight lifted off his shoulders.

It most definitley was not because of the guest, lol. He made sure said guest knew loud and clear that he was a THIRD WHEEL, literally!! In capitol letters, lol.

And yet, JK was in what seemed like a happier state of mind. More at ease than he was in July.

It's clear as day. There's a reason I use the word lighter, because he just is. He's jumpy and excited about practically everything. And his stimming, his stimming is so much more accentuated.

Again, like the weight that was on his shoulders was just lifted.

Obviously his health or more so his bad health on their CT trip, not to mention JM's bad health were a contributing factor to that weight that seemed to linger on his shoulders. He was way more subdued there than he was in Jeju. Being in Korea, no language barriers, and a more familiar environment (Jeju is a place he knows well, has been to multiple times, including with JM alone) could also be a factor here. That said, I do think there were another three factors in play contributing to his 'lighter' state on mind. Contracts signed, album mostly done, joint enlistment in the works.

When JK and Tae were already sat at the table in the restaurant, JK orders the food, makarel included (which he mentioned before in the conversation with JM that JM likes to eat), and then he asks if JM isn't coming.

Just as he does, JM walks in. And JK, that look on his face, as if he hasn't seen JM just minutes ago, just basking in JM's cuteness.

JK knows that JM isn't feeling the best, and he just acknowledges that with that soft momentary touch to JM's thigh. an "I know you're not feeling well, I'm here" kind of touch to the thigh. Very short, but also very obvious.

Third moment is when JM bites his lower lip by accident while jumping to catch that 'boxing bag'(?).

JK's immediate worried reaction when noticing JM's injury.

"Aigo" and "my heart hurts" kind of stood out to me.

I mean... like duh!!!

Like I said.

3 little moments of JK endeared by JM, caring for him and worried for him.

[daechwitatamic]

The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

//

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies. 

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods. 

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat. 

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others. 

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on. 

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for. 

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting. 

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has. 

“A good week,” she observes. 

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers. 

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home? 

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket. 

“You have need of nothing?” she asks. 

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home. 

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued. 

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling. 

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name. 

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to. 

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King. 

She smiles at this, thinly.  “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. “Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy. 

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal. 

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer. 

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling. 

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours. 

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case. 

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck. 

“It’s not extra,” he mutters. 

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence. 

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes. 

You know that look. You are ignoring that look. 

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!” 

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home. 

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly. 

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel. 

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life. 

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable. 

The seasons turned. The hurts faded. 

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after. 

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy. 

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time. 

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be. 

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker. 

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more. 

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all. 

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it. 

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped. 

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand. 

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her. 

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm. 

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her. 

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks. 

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary. 

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers. 

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing. 

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it. 

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary. 

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone. 

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers. 

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know. 

She raises her chin and chants, 

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides. 

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter. 

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face. 

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it. 

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement? 

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience? 

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it. 

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center. 

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best. 

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel? 

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is. 

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands. 

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat? 

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years. 

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy. 

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed. 

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you. 

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply. 

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest. 

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch. 

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door. 

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest. 

Your forest. 

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark. 

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. 

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago. 

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away. 

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone. 

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows. 

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away. 

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss. 

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you. 

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer. 

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck. 

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry. 

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie. 

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough. 

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger. 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper. 

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade. 

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. 

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

[ppupkit]

Could you possibly do some Cait/Vi taking care of Maddie hcs? (I LOVE YOUR BLOG SM!!! YOUR HCS ARE AMAZING) -Mutt ⚜️

why hallo there mutt OF COURSE I CAN !!!! i am number one maddiecaitvi er trust me. ( i jumped around in excitement and stimmed like crazy seeing this ermm tehe (′ꈍωꈍ‵) ). also ohmigosh one of my names is mutt too how silly !! i apologize for the late response but here are the long awaited headcanons !!! also i appreciate your kind words so much my tail wags. ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა"ﾉ"

cw(?) : 100% sfw talk of padded agere / petre

okay for starters i'm big into t4t maddiecaitvi and have been a transmasc butch vi truther since the beginning so i refer to him mostly as he / him but also sprinkle in some she / her as well. tmasc nonbinary vi is really really important to me as a transgender butch so if you're going to be mean or say something unkind about me using other pronouns for vi please just don't interact with this : C. i headcanon both maddie and caitlyn as transfem , not sure if that's relevant for these headcanons but just wanted to get that outta the way : 3

maddie's not really a talker as i mentioned before , being largely nonverbal or mute while regressed. on the rare occasion she's on the older side however vi is mam or mama and caitlyn is mummy. caitlyn calls maddie my sweet , sweet thing , baby , or pup while vi calls her pup(py) , nugget , munchkin or mads.

maddie's full name is madelyn but they never pull out the full name unless she's in Big Trouble. vi never really uses it , being the more laid back of the two but if maddie's done something Really naughty caitlyn'll hit her with the "madelyn graham nolen... what have you done ?"

maddie being super clumsy leads to lots of spills. both spills of whatever's in her sippy cup and her falling over. oh my gosh it's gotten to a point where she's only allowed to be fed bottles no matter how small she is because otherwise she'll manage to get her juice , or milk ALL over da place. (－‸��) sometimes maddie will fuss or plead to be able to have a sippy cause she's a "big girl !". her puppy eyes work on vi but caitlyn gets a little frustrated dealing with the inevitable mess later if maddie gets her way. caitlyn giving both maddie and vi a stern talking to , wagging her finger at them. vi gives her a sheepish smile while rubbing the back of her neck a bit embarrassed. maddie struggles to speak but gives caitlyn her best sorry puppy eyes.

maddie is a bit hard on herself. if she knows she's done something bad she'll go straight to one of her mamas in tears , offering up her stuffie or a favorite toy for them to take away as punishment. caitlyn and vi are very very gentle with her , careful to speak with her about her mistakes , having many conversations while she's not regressed about punishments. they're very adamant about never depriving her of her comforts no matter what she thinks she deserves , taking care to make sure she understands when she's genuinely done something versus when her brain is being mean to her. "it was just an accident , sweet thing. mummy's not angry with you , you're a good girl for letting me know."

maddie lying at vi's feet whenever possible because he always gives her the best head scratches. she'll bark and whine if he stops , nuzzling at his hand if he's fallen asleep and she wants more scratches or pets.

maddie's a very silly girl , always barking and babbling nonsense. both caitlyn and vi listen very attentively , nodding along to her nonsensical barks. vi letting out the occasional gasp : "is that right , nugget?" caitlyn can't help but smile when vi's little encouragements cause maddie to wag her tail , getting her all excited. caitlyn will keep her hand on maddie's back , giving her little pets and pats to keep her calm and her body safe. maddie is a big stimmer being autistic and sometimes if she gets overexcited she can hurt herself or someone else.

maddie is super fussy about being padded , she's really shy about it , getting really ashamed whenever she uses her diaps. she can get super bitey when it comes to diaper checks if she's trying to hide an accident or she'll hide away from caitlyn and vi. caitlyn is the only person she'll allow to change her and even that takes some convincing. she'll get weepy in the middle of it , she just feels so stupid and silly. caitlyn is so sweet and gentle with her though , giving her all the reassurance in the world and so many kisses. giving her a little pat on the bum when she's done , ruffling her hair. "that's better , isn't it silly girl?" maddie will growl in response but yes it is and she's very thankful for her mummy.

whenever maddie wants something she'll go to vi. her puppy eyes are lethal , vi can never say no she's just too cute !! caitlyn has more practice with them so she's a bit more immune but even she has to give in sometimes.

vi loves playing with maddie , she's always down to play fetch with her or let maddie indulge in a little tug of war with a toy. vi's never actually trying to keep something away from her it's all just for play but maddie's too little to know that. if vi's feeling extra silly he'll bark back at maddie. caitlyn rolls her eyes every time but fails to hide her grin and gives both her puppies head scratches.

maddie has her own bed but she never sleeps in it while regressed. she sleeps at her mamas' feet on their bed. they welcome her to come snuggle but usually she likes to sleep at their feet because it makes her feel even more like a puppy !! maddie's a little guard dog for her mamas ! if she's feeling suuper super baby though she'll nestle in between vi and caitlyn , curling up in a little ball with her back against vi's chest and head buried in caitlyn's. she's gotta be touching both mamas or else she'll get fussy , she's just a baby after all she's still working on the whole object permanence thing x p .

oh my gosh this really got me to yapping.... and i've so much more to say however it is now 3:17 in da morning and this has gotten quite long so i suppose this is long enough for one part. hjfksjjnsmk who let mrs. autism out of her cage... i hope these are coherent i've not proofread ε-(´・｀)

[astralnymphh]

some gamer!ellie + loser!ellie mishmash blurbs/hcs, nsfw content mdni!!

⋆.ೃ;giggling and kicking my feet thinking abt pretending to be a lil dumb when it comes to things ellie/loser!ellie knows like the back of her hand. im mostly thinking video games, she thumbs the controllers joystick around and aims at whatever she's explaining in that attractive ass navelly, gravelly tone, like "you go over here for ammo, then- shoot em' down. oh, and-" her index points towards the 'd-pad' button, pivoting her face to you, "to open the inventory." and shows you the inventory mechanics, flexing her knuckles when it rolls and snaps the joysticks.

⋆.ೃ;loser ellie surely gets all sheepish and Involuntarily smiles, unable to keep her lips from cracking into a crescent whenever she watches you take after her instructions.

⋆.ೃ;you tick your tongue, annoyed at the game, so ellie wedges her long ass fingers under your palms and prys the controller from your grip, "lemme' try." and she clears the objective immediately. personally, I'm not bad at games, but i'd try losing a few times so she can help me 🥱🥱

⋆.ೃ;also she good at clit stim cause she be flicking controller sticks all day 🤣 rubbing in tight and wide circles ohmigorsh 😵 jokey hc

⋆.ೃ;if u get decent at the game, and gain the ability to headshot enemies here and there, she'll whisper little "fuck yeahs" , "good jobs" , "sicks" and "rad" , patting and rubbing the plump of your inner thigh. altho pre-dating or loser!ellie would rub the baby hairs behind the conch of her ear shyly and fracts multiple smirks for each gunshot plowed through the enemies head.

⋆.ೃ;⚠️you prbly went down on her once while she played video games. seeing how out of focus she gets and the number of times she dies in a boss fight. like she's playing resident evil 4, fighting mendez' jumpy ass and accidently stumbles leon into the fires cuz ur lapping her clit so damn good, her fucking vision fogs up sm she can't tell the difference between the boss' silhouette and the literal wall. mouth gaped open, jaw tightening to the point she's gotta bite down on her lip in ecstasy. she'd deny the fact its stripping her focus while rutting her drippy serum slit into your mouth and undulating her hips in fluid motions. cursing at the screen, "fuck you bitchhh- hnnn.." but you can't differentiate the curses of rage and curses of pleasure. bahhhh 🥴 loser!ellie wouldn't know what to do with all that tho she'd literally just pause the game and watch you work your magic, planting two feet on your shoulders and panting. all reddened up. ☆ 🦢

⋆.ೃ;⚠️and when ur not around, the muted reflections of the screen casting on her skin, stuffing a pillow between her thighs and rocking her hips into the seam while she wishes you were there. fantasizing. then muttering, "fuck am i doing.." conflicting the fact it felt really good. it feels too damn good, too damn wet, r.i.p those boxer shorts + the pillow. HIGHLY loser!ellie. 🦢

MASTERLIST + more loser!ellie

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[crazylittlejester]

*holds mic to your face street interview style* adhd wind. talk.

- constantly understimulated and the chain has to help him with that by giving him things to do with his hands while they walk because otherwise he will just start talking a mile a minute and bouncing around and Time and Legend have come close to accidentally strangling him because they both get overstimulated fairly quickly and Wind literally just can’t stop. And they understand that, which is why they all worked together to come up with solutions to keep Wind happy while also keeping Time and Legend from getting too overwhelmed

- will stop midsentence and just change topics and its so fast that whoever hes talking to gets whiplash because “when did we start talking about something else???”

- he has a lot of different stims but one of em is like a snap snap slap kinda thing where he very very quickly snaps with his left hand then his right and then smacks the top of his right hand with his left palm and it is LOUD and he can do it frighteningly fast and it just makes Four mad because he cannot do it as fast as Wind (it can also really get on the others’ nerves sometimes but it makes him incredibly happy and it helps him focus so they let him do it just so long as they’re not at camp and stepping away from the noise isnt an option. and Wind is fine with this agreement)

- he does NOT have the patience for shit he’s disinterested in. some of his earliest childhood memories include him SOBBING at the kitchen table while his gran tried so so hard to teach him math but it didn’t make SENSE to him because he literally just could not focus on it no matter how hard he tired because his brain just decided it wasn’t interesting (which created a whole lot of issues with him feeling like he was stupid because he couldn’t understand basic math. he’s not stupid, he’s incredibly smart, but he just could NOT focus on it and he STILL feels bad about it)

- if he’s talking to someone and the group ISNT walking he is standing there swinging his feet because he physically cant NOT. or he’s standing with his arms out to the side and turning just his upper body fast enough to make his fingers tingle

- he will get SO laser focused in on the hobbies he’s passionate about that the chain was actually worried something was wrong with him the first time he hunched over his journal and sat there drawing, completely silently and mostly still for two whole hours (Warriors had given it to him because Wind asks so many questions about everything because he absorbs knowledge like a fucking sponge and Wars is the same way (in regards to loving learning. not so much the hyperactive component) so he thought the journal might help him organize his thoughts)

none of the chain is neurotypical to me, and they’re all definitely on various ends of the spectrum of neurodivergencey but they’ve got each other’s back and will find a solution to keep anyone from going crazy :)

[adventuringblind]

Friendly Understandings

Oscar Piastri x autistic!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: socializing at a young age wasn't east and caused you to form some self depreciating habits. Oscar is determined to change that

Warnings: toxic friends, eye contact

Notes: headcannon format. This goes out to all my nerospicy loves who didn't know they were autistic until later in life and now look back at their peer interactions with a new understanding.

Masterlist

Oscar learned pretty early on that your social group growing up wasn't healthy

Despite what you said, he knew it affected you

You grew up in a small area and the kids your age were all very... similar to eachother

The girls you spent time with had the same music tastes and dressed in the same styles

It wasn't bad by any means, you thought they were all nice enough and had their own talents

It's just that you were different

Not in a cringey way

You are a picky eater and are never afraid to tell someone the cold, hard truth

Make-up was not on the list of things you enjoyed

You manage small amounts now and mostly reserve it for good days

Growing up though, you couldn't stand it

Too many things on your face that made you want to peel your skin off

You were labeled a pick-me for that one

Flirting and boys were also a touchy subject

You were friends with boys

Actually your best friends with boys

Mostly because they had the same interests as you at the time that was more acceptable for them then with your female counterparts

They were not good with girls and you weren't good with boys

It was the best if both worlds

Until you went out with the female peer group

Flirting and dumb pick-up lines went way over your head

You'd been accused of being a kill joy and not able to take a hint

Eventually, when you learned not to ask why they were giggling like weirdos at a boy saying they like how they looked

Your interests were not theirs so that meant you were talked over or told it wasn't intresting

They got upset when you didn't talk at all

Then told you to be quiet because your vocal inflections were lacking control

You couldn't win

You death with this til you were an adult and found Oscar

He first noticed how you apologized every time you started info-dumping

One minute, you'd be smiling about your favorite thing, and the next, you'd be shutting yourself down

He tried to make sure you know he's listening, engaged, and genuinely interested

You ask about his inteestd so why wouldn't he ask about yours?

It's that what relationships entail?

The next time he noticed was when you were going out with a few if the wags

You didn't want them to be embarrassed about not wearing make-up

So you'd done your best to put some on in a way that didn't make you want to scrub your face for hours

Oscar saw you pacing and stimming in front of the bathroom mirror with your products scattered around the sink

You were on the verge of a breakdown

He was quick with a rag and a reasurring word

When you were picked up for your movie night, he complimented you all the way out to the car

thankful that the friends you'd made now are also quick to tell you how good you look.

It was routine now that he reasurred you

He didn't care how small it was. He told you everything was okay and that he thinks you are amazing exactly as you are

Now comes the best part

You'd gone home with Oscar for part of the break because you wanted to visit your family

Low and behold you ran into some familiar faces

You'd seen on Instagram that they were all still close

You'd just been walking down the street and prayed they didn't recognize you

They did

Unfortunately

They ran up to hug you and make small talk

Though it was really just then talking and you trying to figure out when an appropriate time to interject was.

Oscar immediately notices the discomfort

Their overbearing attitude making you shift around

He noticed how your fingers were tapping against your leg in a familiar pattern you love

You were trying to stim discreetly, something you'd never done when he was around until now

Oscar stops them both but shooting out his hand "I'm Oscar by the way."

They blushed when they heard him talk.

Panic

This had happened before

The one time you did like a boy and got along well with him, he decided to look elsewhere

Elsewhere being your better at flirting friends

"Are you a friend? Family?"

"Boyfriend actually," he smiles

They stare in shock

Why do they have to stare?

Eyes are to emotionally connected to everything

"Well you must be intresting as well"

Then they talked some more

Oscar was able to make polite conversation

You tried

And failed

Then clung to his arm.

He could sense you were overwhelmed

The way you were gripping on to him as if he'd disappear alerted him to it

"We're actually on our way to go see a movie."

Lie

But it had gotten you out of that mess

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"My lack of social skills."

"They were boring anyways. It seemed like they are... normal?"

"What?"

"Like bland, I guess. I see what you mean now when you describe them as annoying."

"I don't know what I did to deserve you and your social heroics."

"Well, we deserve each other."

"And why's that?"

"Because you love me for me, and I love you for you."

[dysfunctional-doodle]

Hello. I hope I'm not bothering you, but I was wondering what's your personal headcanons on the Bayverse Turtles? I may have spelled headcanons wrong, so correct me if I am wrong.

(Dude I always spell headcanons wrong I got you)

Oooh hc time! Random stuff really, but:

Mikey has ADHD and Autism. I mention it very briefly in my tmnt chat fic, but I read a fanfic with this idea and it just fits so much for me. Especially the ADHD, which I think the creator of the movie confirmed somewhere anyway?

Donnie has chronic pain in his upper back/spine area, specifically where the shoulders are. To me, he just seems to have a more awkward, uneven build compared to his brothers - he is thinner and taller, yet his shell is still huge. So i kind of had this hc floating around. Idk if other people like it but eh. Cant be a nerd without a bad back I guess

Mikey and Donnie are definitely the younger brothers. Mikey being almost a full year after Donnie, and Donnie being about half a year after Raph and Leo (who are the same age)

Raph knits. Basically confirmed anyway. Specifically he learnt to knit after they were struck by a particularly harsh winter and needed blankets - Raph, being the only one that wasn’t too weak/in hibernation mode at the time, learnt how to knit to try and protect his family when he couldn’t fight the enemy with punches and kicks. He still knits blankets for them every year when the winter grows cold. They keep every one, so they have the comfiest beds

They share a room. 4 giant turtles crammed into one room with rickety bunk beds and hammocks is very funny to imagine

Leo loves romance movies. In particular the TV movie ones.

Leo had a similar attitude to Raph when he was a child until Splinter went missing for a few days whilst scavenging for food (he was fine in the end…mostly. A hasty escape from a warehouse caused him to injure his leg and be forced to hide until he could gain enough strength to return to his sons). When seeing his brothers grow hungry and scared over the few days he took charge, becoming much more of the Eldest Brother figure.

Mikey idolises Leo. He wants to be just like him one day. He thinks he’s the coolest. (It makes Leo’s comment about his head “always being in the clouds” hurt so much more)

Mikey gets a Klunk eventually, saved from being drowned. Her siblings were not as lucky (yes, I am very much writing a fic for this)

Donnie’s favourite pass time is computer science/programming/IT based activities, like how 2012 Donnie seems to enjoy chemistry the most and 2003 Donnie leans heavily towards engineering.

Leo loves house plants

Raph hates house plants

Donnie is blind as hell without his glasses and spent a lot of his younger years unable to see much. Once he could finally see he suddenly was given a world with endless possibilities and potential

Leo is terrible at technology. I’m talking 80 year old woman bad. He always clicks on scam ads and blows up computers. Something just doesn’t click with him and technology

They all have heavy turtle instincts due to them, like 2003, being just turtles rather than a mix of human dna. This causes them to have instincts and qualities turtles have such as retreating into their shells, brumating (at least partially), chirping, etc.

Donnie has a major sweet tooth

Raph can’t stand most sweet things

As kids, they would spend most their time looking at the human world and pretending they were with them.

Donnie is autistic, and has a lot of stims when he is happy that involve chittering and chirps.

Leo cheats at every video game/board game they play due to the eldest sibling advantage

Mikey loves to draw his own comics

Their Christmas hip hop album is fire

Raph is actually the cook, and is quite good at it. Mikey always burns things or they are undercooked because he’s too impatient, Donnie experiments and Leo blows everything up

That’s all for now!

[box-of-chaooos]

Some rg doodles mostly frank n len

Concept for a tiny pocket sized len that lives in yer pockets. Don’t let him eat the lint

Ruby gloom but make them ✨pikmin✨ (I had no idea how to do skull boy forgive me he looks like crap- Iris isn’t winking she has one eye and misery’s flower is actually the little flowers on her headpiece)

Pressure stim frank n len, Frank sometimes drops ontop of len on his or Len’s bad days when he’s cold or if len is having a ‘moment’ or just for the fun of it.

And frank n len pikmin concepts! I rlly like pikmin latley lmfao

[midnightdemonz]

I have never headcanoned a character as autistic MORE THAN MAX GOOF

Okay, I just am in LOVE with the idea/headcanon I thought up that Max has the same stims as me (hand clapping mostly, rapidly finger fidgeting), and that his hyperfixation is skateboarding. And he does sometimes get overwhelmed, and when it first happened, Goofy didn't know what to do. But since then, he's had experience, and knows exactly how to handle it. And the first time BRADLEY saw it happen, he had (VERY ACCIDENTALLY AND NOT MEANING TO) caused it. He didn't know what to do and felt extremely bad so he just ran. But they cleared things up

[cherrybombfangirl]

I see Autistic/ADHD Lloyd headcanons all the time, but none for his parents which is weird because both ADHD and Autism are genetic. So lets fix that, and during Autism Awareness month no less, yay, #RedInstead bitches!

Autistic Garmadon and ADHD Misako Headcanons (for Autism Month!)

Misako hate is not welcome, we don't do that here, you will be blocked. Autistic Misako headcanons are welcome, I love you if you have that headcanon :). I'm autistic and adhd, so a lot of these will be based on my experience, and I'll try to keep it mostly fluff headcanons, featuring a little bit of Lloyd's autism and adhd <3

Autistic Garmadon

He and Lloyd share a lot of the same autistic traits

Like how if you distrupt the routine or there's a change in established plans both of them will start getting anxious and irritated

You don't distrupt the routine! Stick to the schedule damn it-

Or how both of them CANNOT stand bright lights, never turn on the overhead light, lamps and low lights only. and only predictable/controlled loud noises like music is ok, other loud noises bad

Also they both auditory stim ALL the time. Same song on repeat for days until the new favorite comes along, and they have the same taste in music (rock and punk), so while working on stuff or training one on one they'll blast the same song on repeat

Also both of them are hyperempathetic and get emotional very easily. Hence why they're a lot more emotional and open around each other

Also the Pathological Demand Avoidance is VERY STRONG with both of them. tell them to do something and they'll immediately dread and despite that thing and that thing is the last thing they want to do. (i.e. *is about to go do the dishes* "Hey can you do the dishes?" ... "I was about to. Even wanted to. Now I hate them and that's the last thing I want to do. Thanks for that. Fuck you.")

Both of them also have a very hard time unmasking (for different but similar reasons of how their childhood was), and get exhausted and burnt out fast. Luckily being around each other helps them unmask a bit easier

Garmadon loves Mac-n-Cheese, he'd eat just that for the rest of his life if he could. But only Misako's recipe, all other Mac-n-Cheese tastes WRONG (Lloyd also loves Mac-n-Cheese, but only his mom's recipe)

Sometimes he straight up forgets to talk. Like, he doesn't need to, he doesn't like talking to people, and he just... forgets that he has the ability to talk. So sometimes he might go a while without talking, thinking nothing of it. Then he'll vocal stim or use his voice and shock himself a little because oh shit i forgot i have a voice-

He hid it for a while because he thought it was embarrassing, but he has a huge special interest in sharks, and he is the number one shark defender, he could talk about them for hours (his favorite species is the Lemon Shark and Cookiecutter Shark <3).

^After he starts unmasking a bit he starting being a bit more open about it as well, and that year for his birthday Misako gets him a shark onsie. He just about melts, immediately puts it on, and wears it almost every night. (She thinks its adorable)

For a really long time, he thought the things he was experiencing were a side effect of being part dragon/oni, but then Wu told him "I don't experience any of that, sorry." and then he thought it was a side effect of the venom, but then after the Final Battle it was gone AND HE WAS STILL EXPERIENCING ALL THESE TRAITS, so he couldn't figure out wtf was wrong with him

^Misako was like "Idk sounds normal to me *shrug*" (She has ADHD, of course it sounds normal to her XD)

Lloyd knew he was autistic and adhd for a while because of the other ninja, who were also varying neurodivergencies. When he told his parents about it, they both didn't think anything of it because they didn't know it was genetic yet.

Then Garmadon found out it was genetic and was like "No... me? No way... I'm just an anxious introvert, there's no way."

Then he takes like ten different online assessment tests, and is like "Yeah, i knew it, i knew i wasn't autistic, those questions were worded dumb anyway. No I don't have a problem with socks, you see I have a system-"

And then Lloyd (who connected the dots once he found out autism was genetic) was like, "Dad... Dad... that- that is autistic... having a system for socks to avoid having problems with socks, avoiding places with loud noises and bright lights, and prefering to be by yourself or in silence is very autistic..."

Garmadon: "WHAT"

They figured out how to unmask and fuction as their authentic selves together and it's awesome

ADHD Misako

Similarly, she and Lloyd share a lot of ADHD traits

Like fidgeting, A LOT, always needing extra stimulation and needing to fidget. Usually with nail biting or lip chewing, until they learn less self destructive stims

They also hyperfixate in the same way. Both of them will get lost in the hyperfixation for hours, forgetting to eat, drink or sleep. until they try to stand up or someone reminds them. (Lloyd hyperfixates on comics the same way she hyperfixates on archeology)

Both of them have the worst sense of time and object perception. ("Oh yeah that project will only take fifteen minutes" *takes four hours*) (*losing track of important items and forgetting to eat ro drink water all the time*)

Rejection sensitive dysphoria is very strong for both of them, constantly worrying about annoying other people and being a burden, so they're people pleasers a lot and the slightest whiff of rejection sends them into a self hate spiral that can last for days or weeks (It took a very long time for her to get out of the self hate spiral after her and Lloyd meeting for the first time and him blowing up at her, which she thought she deserved for her huge mistake that she deeply regretted. Eventually they talked and Lloyd came to her and said she shouldn't hate herself forever, he wanted her to be his mom, and she could make up for it now. She still gets into that spiral sometimes.)

Also both of them zone out a lot. Sometimes many thoughts. Sometimes zero thoughts. Staring into space (they love car rides for this reason)

Both of them can be very all or nothing in a lot of things. No social interaction or all the social interaction. Doesn't talk at all or can't shut up. Constantly overshooting it.

Also due to the lack of object perception, both of them are kind of terrible at driving. They can't tell how far away the signs are until they're right in front of it, and are always taking turns that are way too big. Over or underestimating distance a lot. (Garmadon is a pretty terrible driver too, he gets overwhelmed easily). (Also Kai and Nya can confirm that teaching Lloyd to drive was a nightmare, Zane had to do it)

Always hyperfixating on something archeology/history related, she's a huge nerd and cycles through ten different topics (she was a weird kid that liked the morbid stuff in history). Usually dinosaurs, she's secretly obsessed with dinosaurs and hyperfixates on them all over again every other week. A lot of the time Garmadon has to remind her to eat or sleep because she'll be lost in hyperfixation for several hours.

Also has a lot of anxiety and has a hard time sitting still, always has to be moving or fidgeting with something in her hands

Similar to Garmadon, she didn't think anything of it when Lloyd told her he had ADHD, and when she found out it was genetic she thought, "No, it couldn't be me, I just have anxiety..."

She was in denial about it for a while, until Lloyd talked to her with Kai and Jay (Also ADHDers).

Kai asked, "Your teachers sent a lot of notes home about you being 'a pleasure to have in class' weren't you?"

Misako: "How the fuck did you know?"

Kai: "That was me before I had to drop out. I was the perfect little teacher's pet. So was Nya."

Misako sat there for a minute having a crisis because everything made sense now but also like no way, really?

She and Garmadon love talking about prehistoric sharks like the Megladon because that's where their interests intersect

^he also gets her dinosaur encyclopedias every year for her birthday and she loves it (they have diagrams of skeletons and fossils and stuff)

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

ADHD CURTIS BROTHERS HCS PLEASEEEEE 🙏

YESSS I FUCK WITH THIS HEAVY

Ponyboy

pony's most apparent symptom is his inattentiveness. his head is always up in the clouds, and he spends a looot of time daydreaming

very very very forgetful, mostly about his own needs. he'll go days without brushing his teeth if darry doesn't remind him

pony has a bad habit of zoning out while looking directly at people, so they just look over and his eyes are like wide and glazed over and staring into their souls. it especially freaks steve out for some reason. "QUIT STARING AT ME LIKE THAT!!" "huh?"

he can't get himself to do his homework in a timely manner. he works best under pressure and so he'll just procrastinate it until the night before it's due and then he locks in

when he does lock in like that, he's practically dead to the world. bro forgets to eat and drink and move his body for like hours at a time until darry or soda makes him get up and he's just like "ow. ow. ow. everything hurts"

he's still hyperactive though and it drives darry crazy sometimes. when he's with the rest of the gang is when it really spikes, and he'll start running all around the house with them. darry can tell though when he needs to get his energy out because he'll just start following darry around the house and bounce around or drum his fingers on every single thing he can. when he gets like that, darry will ask him if he wants to go for a run or play football or smthn so that he can get his energy out

bro WILL hyper fixate on every single thing he's interested in, his consistent ones are books and movies, but sometimes he'll just spend hours a day thinking about one specific book or drawing one character from the latest movie he's seen

it's always a 50/50 on whether he's going to have lots of fun or get super overstimulated in different places. like in grocery stores, after a half hour he's ready to start crying and he'll usually just get quiet and not leave darry's side until they leave. but he thrives in other places like fairs and festivals, and enjoys the bright lights and loud music

he doesn't have great control over his temper. he gets frustrated super easily and will get snappy over the smallest things, but almost every time without fail it ends with him crying and feeling bad

Sodapop

this man may just be the most hyperactive person ever

he will NOT stay in one place for more than five minutes at a time. he's always running around the house, and when he does stay in one spot, he's shaking/bouncing his leg the entire time

like pony though, he gets his moments where he locks in and they're the only times that he doesn't break focus no matter what. he'll go from talking nonstop to just being dead silent as he tries to fix something on a car at work and it freaks steve out

he's so bad with rejection :( even if it's something as small as someone saying they don't like his favorite car, or they're not in the mood to talk about horses, he'll get so sad and feel like his interests are stupid

he cries a lot no matter what he's feeling. if he gets frustrated, angry, or scared, he'll start crying and his energy goes through the roof

soda is easily the most forgetful person any of the gang has ever met. he'll forget what day it is, to put shoes on, to take food out of the oven, everything. it's mostly a short-term memory issue. however, his memory will be really good for oddly specific things. steve: "remember that time I got a cold or something in like elementary school and-" "oh yeah that tuesday in october in first grade when you were wearing that red shirt and you kept sneezing during story time :)" "why do you remember that??" "I dunno"

when he gets overstimulated it's BAD. it doesn't happen often, but when it does, he'll break down in tears and refuse to speak to anyone. darry's the only one who can ever calm him down

he stims a lot, usually by playing with the hair on the back of his neck or rubbing whatever shirt he's wearing

Darry

although it may not be as obvious, darry's also on the hyperactive side. he loves football, running, swimming, anything that's high intensity and lets him get his energy out. when he doesn't have a chance to do those things, he'll usually just pace around or do a quick workout

he will drum his fingers every single time he's thinking, he's even worse than pony with it. and if he has a pen in his hand, you better believe he's clicking it nonstop. the amount of dirty looks he got in school for it was crazy

even though he gets on pony for it a lot, darry also zones out a lot. he's usually better at hiding it though, like people will be having full conversations with him and they don't realize that he was zoned out the whole time until they ask him something and he just goes "huh?"

his biggest hyper fixation has always been football. he could talk for hours and hours about any player, team, or game if someone lets him

he did great in school, but he always had to find obscure ways of remembering things for tests and quizzes, he especially did a lot of those acronym things. whenever someone asked him how he did something or remembered something, he would explain his weird system and they would be even more confused

this poor man cannot cope without a schedule. that's a part of the reason why he gets so bothered when pony isn't home at the right time, because it throws off his schedule and then his whole day is ruined

whenever he reads, he can only focus if he sort of murmurs the words the whole time, and he almost always plays with the edges of the paper to keep his focus

when he gets overstimulated, he gets snappy and loud and doesn't want a single person to touch or talk to him

he's big on vocal stims. he hums or mumbles to himself or makes random noises whenever he's trying to focus on something

[gemharvest]

wyd!Boyfriend (Beef) Reference Sheet

Extra info will be under a cut to spare y'alls dashboards, but here the guy is. The Beef Bastard. For anyone who desires to draw him.

-----

Design Notes:

Palette is flexible; can be drawn in this palette, with canon BF's palette, or given a custom palette. Colored lines are not a requisite, but if you do pure black lines while using the ref's palette, please keep everything using that color the same color (ie; his piercing, opt. nail color, sweater on Christmas outfit, etc).

Shirt does not have to be tucked! I mostly drew it like that just to have the belt visible; up to you if you want to draw it half-tucked or untucked. idc

Shading colors are optional, I just have them there because I like using them; I personally still draw the shade in on his hat/ hair, but that's just how I like doing it. His hair base can be either color tbh it doesn't matter much to me, I just have it marked as the lighter color bc that's what feels right to me personally.

Would have a square face shape & brown eyes when not as stylized as the ref. I do not have a specific eye color picked out, as I do not see myself drawing it, but anything works as long as it's a darker brown.

-----

His playlist is at the end of this post (both Spotify and YouTube versions), but if you just want to hear his sample songs, here are links (+ 2 honorable mentions):

(fw + eyestrain) WHOKILLEDXIX - Kismet

Marina - Are You Satisfied?

(fw + insect & xray clips) Will Wood - Cicada Days

Twenty One Pilots - Fake You Out

100 gecs - 745 sticky

-----

Base Info:

Cisgender bisexual (he/him); polyamorous.

Has: ADHD with RSD; anger issues that usually come out to “protect” himself (can be to “protect” others as well, tho); an inferiority complex that makes him highly competitive & masks as a superiority complex.

Astraphobic (fear of thunder & lightning) as well as having a fear of abandonment. Other than that, he’s comically fearless; acting on impulse rather than any sense.

Has a bad acne problem; some on his face, but the worst of it is on his back.

Wears loose clothes, and kinda just throws on whatever he finds first. (Which tends to be his usual outfit.)

Slightly chubby, but his clothes make it harder to tell.

Street-smart, in spite of his general stupidity. Able to hold himself pretty well in a fight, as long as he’s thinking clearly.

Fairly strong as well, though he doesn’t make an active effort to work out. Stupids his way into being able to lift shit, I guess.

Shaves his face (prefers the look) but doesn’t bother with the rest of his body. 👍

-----

Headcanons:

(there is a lot here, I do not blame you if you don't read all of these 🙏)

Stims with a lot of repetitive hand movements (shaking, snapping motion w/o sound, opening and closing); beeps are sometimes vocal stims as well.

Would benefit from chewlery dear god, but would also need high strength ones. Maybe one day someone will get him a chew stim.

Enjoys high energy & loud music. Obviously a rap fan, but would enjoy breakcore/ speedcore/ hyperpop and similar genres, as well as things like YTPMVs or stupid mashups.

His beeping is not a language, as is the same in canon, though it generally has enough of a rhythm to it that people can get the gist of the intended words the longer they're around him.

95% of the time he speaks in beeps, and if he needs to relay info to someone who doesn't understand it, he'll write his words down (as long as it's an option).

Not comfortable speaking regularly, but can do it if the situation calls for it. Takes a lot to get to that point though, and was way less confident in his words when he was younger.

His beeping can also be a vocal stim, as mentioned previously, which can throw conversation off. Beeps will also lose their proper rhythm if he's upset/ super excited and etc., making them harder to understand.

Loves small animals, rats being a particular example, and is also fascinated by insects.

Usually just ignores insects, but picks up a catch & release habit w/ ones that get inside from GF.

When they get a shared apartment, he's the one who spends the most time in it, usually alone and working on music. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed by missing his partners being around, but manages it well knowing they'll be back soon.

Likes involving his partners with his music. Most of his album covers are art by GF, and will ask Pico for input on mixing or just general thoughts on how it sounds. Will sometimes get them to do vocals as well (takes a lot of coaxing for Pico to agree, so GF features more often than he will).

Usually prefers his nails unpainted, but will let GF paint them to match with her and/ or Pico.

Before Pico entered their relationship, he had his nails painted more frequently to match her. Went down in frequency because Pico really likes it & it became something the two do together. BF is not excluded, he’s just more indifferent about it whereas Pico and GF actively like painted nails.

Prefers black above all, then blue, but also enjoys red or green for his partners.

HUGE issue with picking at acne/ scabs. Has tons of little scars from doing it.

Clingy as shiiiittt to those he’s close to. Will not be the first to let go of a hug and will be content to cling to someone for hours; need to take care of his body be damned.

Related; he has issues wanting to stay up to work on projects instead of get proper sleep, but is pretty easily convinced to go to bed if his partners are around. Because cuddle time babyyyyyy.

Can’t cook for shit. Is like a Sim with 0 cooking skill and insanely bad luck. Best dude can do is make a sandwich/ salad/ anything that doesn’t require the oven or stove, and even then he sticks to simple things because he wants to do other shit.

Relied a lot on fast food/ pre-made meals when on his own. Once moved in with his partners, Pico cooks a lot of the meals & eventually is able to teach BF and GF enough of the basics to where they can prep stuff on days he’s gone.

BF is way slower to take to cooking than GF is; ADHD partially at fault (not finding it “worth it” = not going out of his way to cook still = learns way slower, which also makes it more frustrating). He gets it eventually tho it’s Okay.

Can be kinda an ass to those he doesn’t know, though more because he’s not thinking about it than actually being malicious. Though if he realizes he’s coming off rude he doesn’t quiiiiteee care. This behavior bites him in the ass w/ how he thinks about himself but whatever he’s not thinking in the moment.

Can sometimes be hostile when first meeting people, though usually isn’t too bad.

(RGBFverse exclusive, he is super hostile to the other BFs out of confusion, and then lashes out to keep himself from getting close, because he assumes he will be let down if he does. This later feeds into a fear that, after he becomes calm around them, none of them really like him, because why would they, after how he acted?)

Has spirals related to his inferiority complex where he begins lashing out at others to push them away, because he feels they’re going to leave anyways. These don’t happen often, but it’s really hard for him to pull himself out of it when they do. Feels he’s wearing others’ patience thin, but he appreciates those who stick through it nonetheless.

List subject to change, most likely w/ new additions as I remember things I forgot, or just clarifying anything I may have worded poorly.

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3 songs didn't make it to the Spotify playlist because they aren't up on there. Otherwise, both have the same songs & are ordered the same.