#he likes to power trip but also he's so antisocial

[nosomatsu]

(( btw i fucking LOVE what a freak ichimatsu is. why is he like that. ))

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Thirty - Yesterday

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Racism

A/N: Yeahhhh, so I ended up splitting the chapter anyway lol It was gonna be like 70+ pages, I freaking had to. So sorry for that wait just for a normal chapter!

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Ugh, his head was killing him.

His neck too, although that wasn’t anything new. Nothing he shouldn’t have expected considering how badly he’d torn into it this time. 

Shigaraki really couldn’t remember what about today had been so horrible and overwhelming (or maybe it was yesterday now, considering he had no idea how long he’d been out of it for). At any rate, it wasn’t just one thing, he supposed. 

It was the anniversary of the day Sensei got rid of Mon-chan, that day each year was always a rough one. His dreams always seemed to be a lot worse, so he usually made a concerted effort to not sleep the night before, so he was tired. Not to mention the summer weather was sweltering, and it had rained the day before, that hot humidity causing his worn skin to sting in a strangely familiar and disturbing way.

And then he’d gotten to school. God, fucking school. 

There were alternating stretches in his life among his school peers, where either they’d be scared of and avoid him, or be superior and bully him. He supposed actually that the former actions — the social isolation they consciously put him through — was technically a form of bullying too, but whatever. There was a difference. There were times where the general collective got a lot more hands on with asserting his pariah status to him. 

This week fell during the “hands-on” period of the cycle, as evidenced by the words “die, pervert, die” scribbled across his shoe locker in sharpie. Not to mention the way he was continuously and subtly tripped by the other boys during their gym class. At one point he’d also accidentally bumped into that cute girl that sat next to him — Fuwa he was pretty sure her name was — and she had physically recoiled, whispering and giggling loudly with her friends after about how creepy and nasty he was. Practically making sure that he could hear every word of it.

But honestly, he couldn’t even say that that was the issue that really started to make his skin crawl. He didn’t really notice it much. His homeroom teacher sure had though. She asked him to speak with her in the faculty office during lunch. Expressed concern there over his antisocial behavior and lack of cohesiveness with his peers. Not to mention some of the unsavory rumors she’d overheard about him recently. At the end of the lecture she mentioned that if things didn’t turn around soon, she’d want to speak with his Guardian.

He supposed that’s what he’d ultimately been thinking about when calculus came around that afternoon, his fingers clawing deeper and deeper into the side of his neck as he tried to figure out what to do. Because, what the actual fuck was he supposed to do? How could he turn this around when he wasn’t the one to even put his life in this direction in the first place? He didn’t fucking do anything wrong, didn’t do anything to anybody. He had no control. He was helpless. 

Even as he tried to stay in his seat when called up to solve an equation on the board, he could do nothing about it. There would be consequences if he didn’t get up right now. He was completely at the teacher’s mercy. At the other students’ mercy. At his Sensei’s mercy.

At everyone else’s mercy, just like he’d always been.

His life wasn’t his own, it never had been. And he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He didn’t want to die, but he wanted everyone else to. He wanted everything around him to just crumble away and leave him alone and finally give him some goddamn fucking peace — whatever that was. 

Because he couldn’t imagine peace, truly. He’d never had it. All he had was hatred, the desire to destroy everything around him. He hated this school, these fucking people, this life.

Himself. 

Jesus, that’s probably what he hated most of all.

And then he didn’t have many more thoughts after that. It was all a blur of screams and people grabbing him and blood loss. Overwhelming pressure and a searing itch that seeped all the way down into his bones.

Yeah it had been bad, even he could admit that. It was pretty hard to deny when the scratching episode had ended with him in a forced stretcher and ambulanceride to the, several stitches, and an express ticket to the stark white intake room of Jaku Hospital’s Psychiatric Ward where little Miss Nurse Ratched was currently watching him like a hawk as he unbuckled his belt. 

Seriously, if he wanted a woman to look at him this unimpressed while he undressed, he would’ve accepted a night with one of Sensei’s hookers.

Whatever, it’s not like any of that really bothered him that much now. It was done, he was here. The bitch could glare and gripe at him all she wanted, but what was really irritating him the most about this situation was the pounding in his head. For fuck’s sake, they were in a hospital after all. Was it too much for him to get some goddamn ibuprofen before he took his pants off? The hell kind of operation was Garaki running here?

Free from the loops of his slacks, Shigaraki dropped his belt onto the ground, pointedly next to, but not in, the personal items bin that the Nurse had set out for him.

She didn’t so much as blink at the disrespect, only informed him:

“Dress shirt too.”

Shigaraki shot her a look, “Seriously?”

“You could swallow the buttons,” she explained simply in that obnoxious deadpan.

He scoffed at the explanation, but did start to undo his uniform shirt. Whatever, he figured, as the bloodied collar slackened around his shoulders and into his view. It’s not like he could wear this one again anyway. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it though.

“Sure you don’t need my pants too? I might make a noose out of them,” he spat as he tore the shirt from his forearms, “Ooh, or how about my underwear? If I’m determined enough, I bet you I could choke on those too.”

The Nurse just stared at him with that completely unimpressed expression.

“Just the shirt will suffice.”

Well, then. He was sure that she was just a blast at parties.

Stripped down just to his black undershirt and school slacks, the Nurse gave him a final onceover. She lingered for a moment on his uwabaki — having been rushed out straight from his math class, he hadn’t had the chance to switch out of them.

“No laces on those?”

“Does it fucking look like it?”

She circled around him, checking the shoes at every angle, before making another mark on her clipboard.

“You can keep those.”

“Well thank God for that.”

She looked up over her clipboard blankly, “You know, we have scrubs we can give you. Then we can skip this whole ordeal.”

Clearly she wished that he’d gone with that option. She wanted this over with just as much as he did. But the reality was that she was wasting her time even more than she realized. The doctor had told him that they were putting him on a 72-hour psychiatric hold sure, but they were fucking idiots if they thought that was actually going to happen.

He shivered a bit as a gust from the AC rushed over him, bringing up his bare arms to wrap around himself.

“I’d prefer you guys give me a jacket or something to put on in here,” he growled, “It’s cold as shit.”

“You can ask your guardian to bring any necessary items like that when you see him,” she explained, not looking at him, “Just make sure he reads all the guidelines first.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes, because of course they weren’t going to offer him anything actually useful, “Whatever. Is he here yet? Are we done?”

Finally she seemed to be finished with her clipboard, bringing it down to rest at her hip and looking him in the eye.

“He just arrived, actually. Do you want to see him?”

Shigaraki gave her a confused look.

“Wha- yeah? Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just asking,” she explained, “I don’t know what your home-life situation is. And our goal here is to keep you safe and mentally stable. If he’s someone that might upset or trigger you, we want to respect that.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. God, this bitch was really pissing him off.

“Well I’m fine, so just get me the hell out of here already.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at him with that blank expression that Shigaraki was quickly realizing was a poker face. She was analyzing him, looking for cracks? Waiting for him to snap or break down or all of it? Whatever her aim was, it had him itching to grab the plastic bin next to him and cuck it right at her.

“This way then,” she finally relented, turning to lead him out of the intake room, “We’ll need you and your guardian to fill out a couple of forms before we can fully admit you.”

“Yeah well, good luck with that,” he said, happy to keep as much of that  biting attitude in his voice as possible.

She paused for a moment after typing in her door code, remembering seemingly.

“Oh. One more thing before we go though.”

Continue on AO3

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

asking for Velvette Dx and/or head canons if it's not too much hassle! Plz and ty!

tw // suicide

I would like to preface all my posts on headcanons related to psychology and mental illness with a disclaimer: diagnosing mental conditions, especially personality disorders, can be extremely challenging. It's a complicated process that relies heavily on a psychologist's interpretation of facts, making it susceptible to biases. Personality disorders cannot be diagnosed based on surface-level observations and are not just labels that we can assign to people like in the case of MBTI. Additionally, I am not a clinician with any expertise in diagnosing people. Therefore, the following post should not be taken as a reliable professional opinion. It's simply my interpretation of the internal mechanisms that may be responsible for the behavior of certain characters in my fan fiction. Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of stigmatizing people with personality disorders by associating them with villains. A personality disorder does not determine someone's character or make them a bad person. Some characters may be evil because of the choices they make, not as a result of their mental conditions.

So, as I mentioned, I headcanon Velvette as having an Antisocial Personality Disorder. It is characterized by lack of sympathy or empathy for the rights of others, while simultaneously acting charming and interpersonally manipulative.

❤️ Throughout her childhood, Velvette lived exclusively with her father in the impoverished and sketchy part of the city. Her father worked a lot to earn them living but at the same time he drank a lot and while drunk tend to be aggressive. Also he surrounded himself with bad people. In my mind Velvette can deal with Vox and Val's shit so well because since she was little she was surrounded by unpredictable and violent men. At this point she couldn't be less scared of them.

❤️ She endured relentless bullying during her school years due to her inability to afford stylish clothes and gadgets. This was particularly hurtful for her, given her deep passion for fashion. Velvette devoted all her free time to design stunning looks, harboring a fervent desire to be able to wear them.

❤️ Around 12, she figured that following rules was pointless, being in a disadvantaged position due to her family's poverty. The sole way to boost her social status, in her view, was to break those rules. This extended beyond minor offenses like stealing groceries; she engaged in more serious crimes, such as taking money, clothes, and jewelry from stores and individuals. She never felt any remorse for these actions; to her, they were merely a means to achieve her goals, regardless of the harm inflicted on others.

❤️ She never finished her education because sticking to school rules wasn't her forte. She had the smarts and charm to sidestep juvenile detention. Despite concerns from a few individuals, we all know how well the system deals with "troubled teens." Besides, her father wasn't bothered by psychologists' opinions as long as she was bringing in some cash.

❤️ As a young woman she used her charm to manipulate men and take advantage over them. While she contemplated sex work as an easy money-making avenue, she found men too repulsive to engage in it. Instead, her preferred method involved blackmail – she seduced married men, particularly the submissive ones drawn to her aggression and coldness. Through this, she gathered intelligence and skillfully weaponized it against them.

❤️ At some point, she blew up as this super popular influencer. It kicked off with her sharing cool, low-cost looks on the internet. People loved her sassy attitude and creative stuff. But as she got more famous, it stopped being about creativity and turned into a power trip. She built a cult-like following around herself and started abusing her power. Being openly mean worked in her favor online – people ate it up, especially when she got into online fights. No matter how wild it got, no one could successfully cancell her. Actually, I think Vox really admires her talent for stirring up drama. He pushed her several times to get on some reality show, thinking it'd make the ratings explode. But the darkest stuff Velvette pulled wasn't out there for everyone to see. It all went down in her DMs. She justified it as "finally getting justice from rich white brats," using her influence to get teens to pull off crimes and risky stuff. She even manipulated at least two depressed kids into taking their own lives. When shit hit the fan, and she knew prison was coming, she took it as one last chance to torment people. During a "live stream apology," she commmited suicide in front of thousands of people.

❤️ In the show, it's evident that she's downright rude. Not just to Carmilla and the other overlords, but also towards Vox and her own employees. The lack of sensitivity and respect for others, coupled with a strong sense of superiority and being extremely opinionated, are typical traits associated with Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). My girl literally got song called Respectless.

❤️ She disregards any kind of authorities and when someone tries to impose their will onto her, she's going berserk.

❤️ She genuinely couldn't care less about what people think of her; she despises people that much. In fact, being hated now excites her because she knows she's untouchable and influential and it makes everyone even more angry.

❤️ She's extremely reckless, even if she knows it could hurt her – another trait associated with APD. While we observe Vox and Valentino able to behave when necessary, Velvette storms into overlords' meetings guns blazing and starts with insulting everyone, even though she aims to convince them to align with Vs.

❤️ She struggles to form genuine connections with other people. Still, she's got a soft spot for Vox and Val, sort of considering them her friends. At the same time, she sees them as just a couple of guys she can easily play to her advantage.

Vox hc | Valentino hc

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Games in the library 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader (Tutor/gamer au) Fluffish and also smuttish

Tags: smut, library fucking, public sex and nerdy gamer references.

Cool devider credits: saradika

🔷Summary: Your GPA is tanking and you need help. Luckily there is the grumpy antisocial Aemond to help you out.

🔷Author's note: Based on tutor aus but I made my own spin on it.

🔷Wordcount :7324

🔷Warnings: Au universe, smut, desk fucking, p in v, dom/sub, reader x aemond, fluff, gamer references, cozy gamer gf and shoot-em-up bf (found something else? Let me know)

There have been quite a few storms lately, causing more rain and making the world a little gloomy. You don’t mind, however. You have always been a fan of rain. Unlike today, where it’s an extra reminder how much you rather spent inside, cooped up with a good game with a warm cup of hot chocolate, not running around your campus with your bag above your head, as if life depends on it.

You are relieved when you make it inside, in the beautiful library that was built long before you began this study. You notice a silver-haired boy with a missing eye sitting in the corner of the room, with his math books in front of him, impatiently glaring around, unaware you are already there. “Hi!” you enthusiastically say, placing your Starbucks coffee cup and handbag on the table in the big messy library you just entered. It’s a saturday so most students would not want to be found death here at this time. 

You have a reason to be here, sadly. You are failing math, falling behind more and more on the subject. So your professor, Borros assigned you a very unwillingly tutor, Aemond Targaryen. He sighed when Borros suggested he should tutor you, even going as far to say that there is no use in tutoring someone who does not want to learn. There is truth in that, but the issue is not that you don’t want to learn. It’s something else.

Aemond glares at your cup before standing up and checking the time on his expensive smartwatch. “Why are you late?” Great. You were afraid of not getting here in time, seems like your Starbucks trip took a little longer than you had planned out.

You take out your phone. You are exactly 5 minutes late. There was a big line in front of Starbucks. And you forget you had tutoring today, to begin with. “I—uhm—forgot the time.” You lie.

He looks at your Starbucks cup accusingly. If it had feelings, the cup would feel attacked, perhaps even insulted, before it would hop off the large wooden table and into a nearby trashcan, ending itself. You would gladly follow it in the rabbit hole trashcan.  “I’m sacrificing my free Saturday for you. The least you could do is get here on time.” There is always a bit of a gruff, Gringe-like edge to his voice as if someone just stole his presents and he is pissed.

You huff. He acts so high and mighty, and yet you know there is nothing personal about this. He does not help you because he is some godly angel. He helps you to get points. This is not a charity project for him, or a social project this is cold selfishness and part of his plan to become the best student of your class, likely a step 4 in his 10 plan step to world domination.

You smile sweetly when adjusting your ponytail. “You aren’t sacrificing anything. You get points and the chance to become Borros’s TA.’’ You tell him, dangling his reward in front of him as if it’s a carrot, just in case he thought about bailing.

He dreams of that position for some reason, though you can’t for the love of the gods figure out why. Perhaps for status, power, future learning references or just to get close to Borros? Your teacher  had hinted that if he could somehow get you to improve your grades, there might be a chance he would become his teacher's assistant. That was enough to sway Aemond into teaching you.

Aemond briefly pushes his gold-rimmed glasses back on his nose, smirking at you.  You feel a little nervous under his gaze. “Correct. That means that I decide how this lesson will proceed.’’ 

His cryptic description makes your mind wander back to the familiar gutter you have come to know so well. You  make a mental note to stop reading dark romance books with tutors for a while. 

You ignore him. That makes him eager to get your attention back. “No calls, no texts—for the next hour, you are at my mercy.” Sweet gods.

His soft pink lips briefly smack before breaking into a grin that sends shivers down your spine. You are thankful for the small bolero that covers your dress.

Aemond is a huge nerd. Kinda cute, but he doesn’t know how innuendos work. And he is certainly not aiming his innuendos at you. 

“Okay. So, you’re like good at math, right?’’ you ask, a little insecure. You are worried he might not actually teach you anything at all, though he is smart, his hands almost always scorching through the air as though Borros is personally offending him with his questions. He reads advanced math books whenever you and your girlfriends hang out in the library, shooting glares whenever you are too loud, giggling or gossiping.

He seems insulted that you think so lowly of him.”’I’m the best in our class.” You never really kept eye on who is the best of the class, and you do not really ever cared. Who cares, as long as you keep up your GPA it is all fine.

But you are not dumb, you need to keep him as your friend for now. At least your ally. Your accomplice? You don’t know. You think you would be all the way at the bottom. ‘’Impressive.’’ You say, but you can’t bother to meet his eye before taking a sip of your very delicious pumpkin spice late.

His head tilts slightly when he narrows his eyes suspiciously, reading you as a open book. He huffs. “I can tell you don’t give a damn. Take out your notebooks, study books and whatever else you might need. It is time we start.” Whatever else you might need? You feel dread and anxiety fill your chest as you become aware of your thoughts traveling already far away from the lesson.

He brought an adorable little digital clock, that he puts on the table gently, before turning it on, exactly 120 minutes. He really does not want to be here a second longer than he has to be.

You faithfully take out your notebooks decorated with Sanrio stickers, Pokémon stickers and panda stickers, as well as your textbook, and your collection of Hello Kitty gel pens. You put it all out for him to see, flicking the textbook open in front of you. 

Aemond stands up, briefly looking over your handwriting in your notebook. He wets his lips before speaking. “Good girl.”

You roll your eyes.

He gets up from the chair across the table, walking to the empty seat next to you. He sits down, glancing at some of your previous sums, together with little drabbles and doodles. “So—what do you have problems with?” 

You can feel the warmth of his body and smell the fabric softener he uses on his clothes. He probably does his own laundry. 

This will be a long hour. You sigh, before summing it up. “Addition and subtraction, analog time, multiplication and division…’’ And you forget dozens of other things.

Anything and everything that involves numbers. You have been that way since a kid, throwing tantrums whenever you were forced to do math or make a puzzle. Your brain blacks out whenever you are forced to make a sum, and after a while your brain is just completely fried.

He wrinkles his nose, thinking. “So, everything?’’ he summarizes dryly. 

You nod. “Yep.”

His good eye slightly widens. “I can do this,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. He taps on an empty page of your notebook with his fingers.

‘’Write down ‘twenty-five plus eighty-seven’.”

You obey, faithfully writing the sum down in your notebook with your favorite Hello Kitty glitter pens. 

Aemond looks at the pen with a sigh, bending over your notebook to see what you wrote down. His brows furrow. 

You try your best to focus on his voice and his words rather than the fact that he sits so close to you and smells like fresh strawberries.

‘’Alright. Next, write down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine plus ninety-four’.” Again, you write it down as best as you can, in a reasonably readable handwriting. You hear him curse under his breath, exhaling.

“Five hundred and thirty-two plus six hundred and fifty-six..” 

You write a bit faster, messing up a few of the numbers in the process. You are glad you are starting with the addition sums, as they come the easiest to you.  

“Lastly, three hundred and fifty-five plus four hundred and sixty-six.’’ He looks at your sums. With one glance at his face, you can tell you’ve already fucked it up. “I said ‘one hundred and ninety-five’, but you’ve written down ‘one hundred and fifty-nine’. I said ‘six hundred-and-sixty-five’, but you wrote down ‘six hundred and fifty-six’.” 

Great. He must think you are doing it on purpose. Embarrassed, you quickly scratch out the numbers you wrote down before sighing, cursing yourself for thinking this was going to solve anything.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he wonders. “Do you even want my help?” The nerve of this man. 

“What do you think?” you snap, placing the cap back on your Hello Kitty gel pens. “You think you’re my first tutor? You think you’re the first who’s tried to help me? I’ve done all of this before, but none of it matters. Nothing will stick anyway.” 

Your voice becomes squeaky. You blink rapidly to avoid ruining your mascara. He must think you are so stupid. You are. So, so stupid.

Aemond looks over your work again, sighing and rubbing his face. “No,” he murmurs quietly. “You turn them around. Some of the numbers.” 

That has been an issue since you were introduced to numbers. That and the bigger they get, the bigger the chance you mess it up.

“No shit,” you huff, searching your handbag for your tissues. You find them buried under your perfume bottle and use them to wipe at your eyes. 

His feet move under the table, briefly touching yours.

“Don’t get mean. Just making an observation.’’ He scratches behind his ear. “What do you mean, ‘nothing  will stick’?” 

Great. He will piss himself with laughter when he hears this.

You’d rather not tell him, or anyone, really. It is embarrassing. You are a twenty-two-year-old girl who can’t divide the simplest numbers and, without a digital clock, you’d get nowhere on time. You wouldn’t even know the time. People can and have taken advantage of that just to bully you. “It’s complicated,” you say.

His usual gruff voice softens. “Alright. So, tell me.”

What is the harm? you wonder. Who is he even going to tell?

“I’ve got a non-verbal learning disorder,” you mumble. There. He knows.

“What?” he asks, a little too loud for your liking. Even if he had whispered, it would have been too loud. There is no one here, yet you are worried somehow someone heard.

You growl back, “Non-verbal learning disorder. NLD.” 

It is a little less common than dyslexia—a lot less common, actually. You have heard that dyscalculia and NLD is a very common combination. That might be the reason you are so horrible at math. Part of your brain just refuses to understand it, which frustrates you, which makes you upset, and all that means you’d very much rather not do math at all. 

Aemond becomes very quiet before admitting something you never thought you’d hear. “I’ve never heard of that.” 

Where could he have, though? He is very clearly a math expert, not a learning disorder expert. 

You look at your polished pink nails with gold glitter.

“Hm. Not surprised. You are perfect after all, aren’t you?” you ask.

He becomes grumpy and unbearable, as you become mad and perhaps jealous that he is so perfectly fine and normal, and boring. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” 

Aemond takes out his phone. You thought they were ‘forbidden’. Didn’t he say so earlier? You glare, insulted. You have a social life, after all, and the world suddenly seems far more beautiful than it had been before you began your suffering here. 

“So, are you telling me you don’t know how late it is now?” He shoves a Wikipedia page in your face. He looked it up.

You take out your phone. “Of course I do. It’s fifteen-thirty.” 

You don’t say the correct time. You say ‘fifteen-thirty’. Fifteen thirty. Not half over past something, am or pm bullshit. You say it how it is. It’s fifteen-thirty.

Aemond draws a clock in your notebook. You quite like the way he uses your Hello Kitty gel pen for it. “And in analog time, that would be?” He wonders, his voice trailing off when his one remaining good eye glances at you.

You shake your head as he draws two hands on the clock, and multiple numbers. “Oh, no one cares about those lame old clocks,” you smoothly lie, and it is part of the truth. 

No one uses those old lame clocks anymore. Everyone and their mother has a cellphone. Why bother reading a clock if you have a cellphone? And in your case—why bother reading a language your brain seems to not understand anyway?

Aemond sighs, reading you easily. He scratches the clock out. “You can’t read them, can you?” He asks after he has scratched them out. You can either deny it or lie about it but why waste energy and time?

This man is too observant. 

“I know that the big one up means ‘twelve’,” you say with a little smile, very proud that one thing did decided to stick.

You can see it on his face—it’s becoming more and more clear that you don’t need a tutor. You need a miracle.  

He blurts out a question. “How did you even leave high school?” he asks. You don’t think he meant to hurt you, but he still does.

“How did you lose your eye?” you ask, lashing out.

Aemond sits up a little straighter. “That’s quite a personal question—” 

You smile back, still furious and hiding your displeasure by ripping your nails.  “Exactly.” you groan.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I’m impressed, if anything.’’

Fake sympathy. Yeah. 

This is a waste of time, you didn’t learn years ago, why would you learn it now? Why did you even came here to begin with? A little voice reminds you of just why you came over. “You don’t need to lie to me. I know I’m stupid,” you mutter when playing with your bracelet. 

Aemond grabs your wrist, letting go almost the second his skin touches yours. “You’re not stupid. I know you can be very clever and an absolute pain in the ass when you want to be.” He grins. “Just… not with numbers.” He closes your notebook.

“Really?”

You know you are clever on other fronts. It’s just difficult to believe you aren’t stupid when you see how advanced your peers and friends are and you still struggle over middle school math.

He nods. “Yeah. I remember for a while in History and Language that you were a threat to my position as best student.’’ 

You’d liked History for a while, it’s true. You were good at it—that is, until you got a social life and it became an afterthought. What might have happened if you had stayed on that path?

You don’t understand why he wants to be the best. “I mean, you are already first in math, aren’t you?” 

He should not push for perfection as much as he does.

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have to be the best in everything.” It sounds empty. You might not be the only one with problems.

You try telling him what you think. “That’s a little… unhealthy.”

He snaps at you, suddenly scowling. “Well, I don’t have a rich daddy to pay my way into school.” 

Ah. That is his issue with you. He thinks you’re a rich little girl that has a daddy that pays for everything.

You stare at your pink nails, briefly ripping at them before speaking. “I don’t either. Mine died when I was two. I have a stepfather, but he’s too busy fucking my mom and arranging vacations to Dorne for the two of them to bother with me.’’

Aemond’s chest sinks a little, regret written across his face. “I’m sorry.” 

He sounds sincere. And, just like that, you realize your math session has turned into a therapy session. 

You laugh despite your sadness. “Look at me, trauma-dumping all over you. Sorry.” 

You open your notebook at the same moment that Aemond grabs your fingers.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” He awkwardly lets go of you again.

That’s fast. “We haven’t solved a single sum,” you say. “I mean, we can solve one. I think this one is doable…” 

You look at your crossed-out sums. Oh, yeah. That happened. 

His silver-haired head nods up and down, but he does not answer at first, staring at your nails. “Perhaps not. But we have discovered why you have issues with this. Go take a break. That’s an order.”

He cheekily smirks at you, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Perhaps not butterflies—perhaps just straight-up lust. You want to pull this guy in by his sweater and give him a good tumble.

You lick your lips. ‘’Yeah? What will you do if I don’t, sir?’’

He leans in a little closer, his eye flickering to your ruler lying untouched on the table. “Let’s just say… you wouldn’t like to find out.’’

Aemond takes a bottle of water from his bag and a sandwich while you grab a hot chocolate from the machine in the library and a freshly baked muffin from your bag. 

You eat your muffin and then take out your Nintendo Switch bag, starting the device up for a brief moment of relaxation. You play Animal Crossing for a few minutes, forgetting the world around you as you’re sucked into your peaceful little island.

Aemond is very silent as well, staring mostly at you.

“I’ve got one too.” You are sucked out of your island and back into reality. 

‘’Huh?’’ He nods to the switch.

He means a Switch. You didn’t think he would be into games. You think he would be too busy studying, really.

“What game are you playing?” he asks, tilting his head, coming a little closer so he can see for himself, almost touching your skin in the process as he clumsily bumps into you. ‘’Sorry.’’ He murmurs.

“A very intense one,” you comment as a compilation happens on your screen. You want to restore your island from desertcore to cottagecore and right now, one of your villagers has decided to be a menace. 

On Aemond’s lips grows an almost dreamy smile as he stares at you playing on your Switch. “Oh—like Xenoblades? Zelda? Hades?” 

You’ve heard of all three, but haven’t played them. They are not games you think you would like. They sound difficult, full of combat, full of puzzles and full of realisation that you are stupid. So you stay far, far away from them.

“Animal Crossing!” You turn your Switch so he can see your former desert island as you turn it back into a cute aesthetic-worthy village. 

He tries to blink, but he only has one eye so it looks a little awkward. “That is your definition of ‘intense’?” 

It can be. It can be so intense you rage-quit. Some of these animals have no manners—you’ve certainly bullied a fair few off your island. 

“You try terraforming your island when a lazy villager sits in the way!” You point with your finger to the panda cub that sits in the way, right where you want to plant a bush. “That’s Chester, and right now he’s making my life hell—” 

The panda, or Chester, enjoys a sandwich while smiling at your avatar, unaware of the misery he is 

causing.

“That panda is?” Aemond asks, confused. “The panda is the issue? Can’t you tell him to move?” 

That would be so helpful. But, unfortunately, no—that is not an option. 

You nod, turning your Switch back to you. “He just won’t leave. I can hit him with a net, but he would hate me,” you mutter. “Pushing him is useless. He’s, like, glued to this spot.”

Aemond smiles to himself. “Perhaps he is saying we should return to studying.” Chester would say that, the menace. He has not given you his photo either, the bear knows too much.

“He says to me that I can have five more minutes,” you say, smiling and blinking your eyes innocently. 

He sighs deeply, exhaling before putting his arm under his head, watching you terraform around your island. “Cute.” He sits up straight, blushing and quickly pointing to your Switch, decorated with stickers from Stardew Valley. “I meant, uh, the stickers.” He quickly mutters, and you can’t hide your own smile.

The stickers are cute, but you can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t talking about something else. “Thanks, they’re from Stardew Valley.” 

“I heard that game—” Whatever Aemond would say next would forever be a mystery. He is rudely interrupted by your fan dumping all over him, telling him the plot, the main features, and your personal opinion of the game in the world-wide record of 4 minutes as you ramble. “You’re kinda supposed to help this town flourish by bringing crops you grow, artisan stuff, to this community center. You can also romance and have children and have a pet. There is like magic too, but I wish it was more fleshed out-’’ You shut up quickly. You put your switch down.

He nods, but you can tell you are losing his interest. 

“You can slay monsters, too,” you blurt out. “And you have different swords, weapons and stuff. Sorry. I kinda ramble.”

“I like it. It’s cute when you ramble.’’ Damn it. You feel your cheeks redden. Aemond watches the rain outside, before asking another question about Stardew Valley. ‘’Can I kill my spouse?” he asks as a follow up. 

You know the modding community is very active, but they are like about dogs and cat breeds, about teleportation hacks and making portraits better. Not about you know, full-blown murder. “No…”

He frowns as if that surprises him. “Is there warfare? Can I take other people’s farms? Is there a princess for me to save?” No, no, and no.

You understand you two play different games.

“No, not really. It does have multiplayer, though.”

Aemond’s scoffing little smirk returns but it does not meet his hurt and very glossy eye. “I’m kinda a loner.” He laughs but there is a hidden sadness there. A sadness you relate too all too well.

“I am, too,” you say. 

“You have dozens of friends.”  You can still have friends and be alone.

He refers to the girls that you hang out with. Are they friends? You don’t hang out aside from the weekend. You can’t call them, if something has happened to you, and they definitely don’t know you game or have NLD. 

“Yes,” you say, “but…none of them game, I guess? Like, in that way, I’m alone. And I don’t make friends easily. Not everyone likes the games I play. Some wouldn’t even call it gaming. So, what kind of games do you like to play?”

He suddenly becomes interested in his very well cared for nails, and you know you hit a weak spot.

“Crusader Kings II, Zelda, Hades, Xenoblades and shooters.” He tells you. ‘’Mostly single-players.’’

You don’t know Crusader kings, but judging by the name, you do not have a cute farm at day and a run a witchy cozy coven at night. “The bloody ones.”

He snaps his head to you, smirking a bit.

‘’Zelda is not bloody.’’ Before he looks at your hair and your lipstick. ‘’I think you actually like it, if you gave it a chance.’’ He says. ‘’I mean, there is dozens of npcs to talk to, a wonderful open world, and ingredients to forage and outfits to collect and to find. In a way, it is Stardew Valley but without the Valley.’’

He definitely heard about Stardew Valley before. ‘’You know a lot about Stardew.’’

He nods. ‘’My sister, Helaena, she plays it a lot. I wouldn’t know how to play it, however.’’ He confesses, slightly tilting his hands. ‘’It’s beyond me how you get anything done with a time limit and a stamina bar.’’

You smile, and you never thought you would in his company. ‘’Describe the story. Of that Zelda game.’’ 

He needs some time to think before telling you the main story. ‘’You see, with an adventure game that’s…that would defeat the purpose of playing. So: You are a hero, named Link. After 100 years, you awake in a shrine, and you hear a voice, and you need to save the kingdom and the princess.’’ It sounds very …male-written and male-aimed. You aren’t sure Zelda is for you.

You have another problem with it too.

‘’That sounds horrible. Imagine waking up from your nap, and suddenly you got to save the world.’’

At first he is confused but the moment he knows you are joking, he laughs, a very delightful sweet and welcoming sound. ‘’It starts very locked, but there’s so much you can do in the game, in my honest opinion it's one of their best entries in the series. There’s cooking, horses-’’ Horses? There are horses? And cooking? ‘’There is combat, but you learn quickly, at least I did. The monsters are actually clever, and in the beginning, its best to avoid them until you get decent weapons.’’ You aren’t sure. Combat? The monsters in the skull cave of Stardew Valley regularly kick your ass.  ‘’There are puzzles too-’’ That is where you draw the line. No puzzles.

‘’Hell no. I hate puzzles.’’ You did as a kid, and still as an adult you can’t figure out how some people enjoy putting together these images, made up of 1,000 pieces and when they finish it, they destroy it too. Like what is the point? And it does not help you can never figure out where to start.

‘’I know.’’ That catches you off guard. Aemond does not pressure you into it. He simply accepts it.  ‘’But they are fun. We can solve most problems in multiple ways. You can’t fuck this up, if you are scared of that. Even if you die, you can restart as many times as you like. And no one is going to call you stupid for it.’’ He promises you, when leaning in a little closer, touching your face gently.

‘’Not even you?’’ You ask, for confirmation, not sure why you care but you hate for him to laugh at you for doing something very rookie. 

He shakes his head.  ‘’No. It took me a lot of time to get the hang of it too, if you must know.’’ So he is not as perfect as he pretends to be. ‘’I already told you: I don’t think you are stupid.’’

You lean in a little closer to him, staring at his soft pink lips. You make your voice as dry as possible. ‘’What if I call ‘’Link’’ ‘’Zelda?’’ You ask him with a cheeky grin. Nothing annoys Zelda fans more than that.

He grins back, but has faith in you. ‘’I know you won’t.’’ That is true. You know that the Princess is called ‘’Zelda’’ but the person you play as is called ‘’Link.’’ To confuse the two would be like calling JojaMart Pierre’s general store.  

‘’But what if I do?’’ You ask, getting a little cheeky. ‘’Hm? Sir?’’ You ask, pushing his buttons a little more as you grin. 

He needs to make an effort to hide his smirk, quietly muttering when eyeing the stickers on your switch. ‘’Don’t push me, we are alone after all, and I’m very bored.’’ He murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine when his voice gets that rough edgy little dark edge.

‘’Are you …Interested?’’ You ask, surprised.

He lifts his head, a bit insulted. ‘’You think I would not avoid you like the plague if I wasn’t?’’

All this time you thought he hated you, but he had a crush on you. ‘’I thought you hated me! That I annoyed you!’ 

He blushes, quickly cleaning his glasses for some reason. ‘’No, I just don’t like it when I can’t control my feelings. Like I become very different around you.’’ You noticed. He puts walls around himself.

‘’You become a little angry bird or a Goomba.’’ You know for sure he knows what a Goomba is, and you know it as well. They are the adorable little creatures from Mario games that try to murder Mario and look grumpy.

He chuckles, mortified by your description.

‘’Please, no, gods, not a Goomba.’’ 

You do find the courage to tell him your final thoughts, before flipping your notebook again, picking up where you left with the sums. ‘’If it helps, you are kinda cute too, Aemond.’’ You tell him, and you mean it. ‘’Not that I’m into Goombas, but..Yeah. You’re cute.’’ You tell him.

He nods, absently before he becomes serious again. ‘’Did you ever try motivational tutor lessons?’’ Motivational what?

‘’What uhm do you mean?’’ You ask, a little lost.

He shrugs, smiling. ‘’Well, people are more likely to succeed if there is a reward for them in it.’’ You notice him biting down at his lips, avoiding your eyes.

‘’And uhm, what would my reward be?’’ You ask your body to betray you within mere seconds as you think of how he will reward you. You, on the couch on top of him when fucking him-

He grins, when slowly touching your legs, going to the space between your legs, to where your dress ends. ‘’Whatever you like,’’ he purrs softly in your ear. ‘’ A cup of coffee, a donut…’’

You nod, a little disappointed and curse your dirty mind. That man is a saint for trying with you. Aemond reaches out to grab something close to your textbook and your eyes follow his fingers. ‘’People are likely to succeed more if they are disciplined too.’’ He is just teasing you, you tell your very dirty minded mind.

You know he will make you stand in the corner or perhaps take your phone away. ‘’And what would my punishment be?’’ You ask, dryly when you copy the sums from the textbook.

Aemond sighs. ‘’I won’t do anything you don’t consent to, that is the first lesson.’’ You were taking a sip of your cold coffee and nearly spat it out, all over your textbook as your cheeks burned with interest.

‘’But if you are into a little motivation, I guess I can show you another use for this pretty ruler.’’ He mutters, tapping with the ruler against the palm of his hand. You notice he has excellent self-control. This will be fun.

Yet you are surprised, that the red sweater glass-wearing sniveling little best of the class into BDSM. ‘’You’re into Kink?’’ You ask, your voice is a bit strangled.

‘’That’s not an answer, little brat.’’ 

He totally is. Gods, just your luck, stuck with Aemond Targaryen who is secretly into brat taming. Whatever sums you wanted to make, will certainly get fucked up now.

‘’Do you expect me to really learn better?’’ You hope he understands that your brain is just not a regular brain. It won’t magically solve things now that you are motivated. 

Aemond shakes his head. ‘’I kinda don’t. But it’s alright, love. I won’t get upset with you. Not really, at least.’’ He tells you with a grin. ‘’But I won’t lay a finger on you until I get your consent.’’ Such a gentleman. 

‘’Fine, you’re free to touch me.’’

On his lips, grows a dangerous smirk as he grins, before sitting next to you. ‘’What is the square root of 48?’’ He puts his left hand on your knee and slowly makes his way to your thigh…

Fuck. ‘’Uhm, 4.’’ You blurt out. It is a gamble but you don’t care.

Aemond chuckles before tsking as a disapproving teacher, before grinning and telling you the correct answer. ‘’That would be 6.’’ You growl, a little angry you didn’t know it. But he softly murmurs in your ear, when his hands go over your body. ‘’Take off your coat.’’ He tells you coldy. 

You let out a little squeak. He grins, adding softly. ‘’Again, if you want to, of course.’’

‘’I want you to strip too.’’ You tell him after you have taken your coat off. 

He chuckles, thinking you can’t defeat him. That you don’t know his weakness. But he told you, earlier today without him realizing so.  ‘’You can ask me questions but I know a lot more about math-’’

You interrupt him, smiling.

‘’What year did the Titanic sink?’’

Aemond gawks at you, before thinking deeply. It is a random event that did kill people, but it had no major consequences. ‘’1910?’’ He guesses. You grin. 

‘’1912, take off your shoes.’’ You tell him.

‘’Fuck.’’ he murmurs, but obeys. ‘’If I go with the train at 9:20, and the train takes half an hour-'’ No way you will get that one, so you take your dress off, zipping your zipper down and exposing your black bra and matching knickers. Aemond’s breath catches slightly, exhaling when his pupils enlarge.‘’Good girl.’’ That is enough to worsen your arousal and to harden your nippels. Aemond watches as it happens, a pleased contemptuous smile on his lips. 

‘’Tell me, little Brat. Darwin’s father has four children, Red, orange, yellow and-’’ It is a pattern question. A clear question. Red orange yellow are colors represented in the rainbow. ‘’Green?’’ The moment you said it, you repeat the question silently before growling.

‘’No! "It's Darwin!” You grow out.

He chuckles. ‘’You can keep your pretty knickers and bra on. I want you to sit on my lap.’’ You sit down on his lap, making sure to rub him a tiny bit in the process, to make him wild. He groans in your ear when forcing your ass down. ‘’Such a naughty little brat. And so wet for me too.’’ He murmurs in your ear when his fingers smoothly slide in your knickers, before toying with your folds, touching before inspecting your wetness. You twist on his lap, trying to force the finger to move deeper, harder, and rougher. Aemond pulls you tightly to his chest to avoid you moving at all.

You enjoy his control more than you should. ‘’Fuck…’’ You quietly mutter. He muses happily to himself as you squirm and twist on his lap. 

‘’So tense, are we shy, little brat?’’ He is toying with you, torturing you.

‘’Aemond, please.’’ You beg, helplessly as he begins to fuck your body with his fingers, and you happily fuck his hands, clenching yourself whenever you are allowed. 

You need to find release soon, and he knows it very well judging by his smirk. ‘’I’m afraid I won't listen to that name. You will call me Sir or you will refrain from speaking at all.’’ He says, and your fucked up little brain enjoys it too much.

That is so hot. He has an authority kink. ‘’Fuck!’’

He grins, as he takes a stance behind you.

‘’I’m afraid I can’t allow such crass words.’’

Oh shit. You feel your heart race and your stomach flutter with lust and butterflies and your curious mind wanders. ‘’Aemond…’’ He grabs you briefly by the throat, but he does not make it hurtful. He raises a brow. 

You look at your shoes.

‘’I meant, Sir…’’ Your face is pressed down against the wood of the table, before Aemond growls.

‘’Nothing will save you now, little brat. You are all mine.’’

He grabs the ruler and your cheeks are spanked first with his fingers before he moves on to the iron ruler, hitting your cheeks with precision but hard enough for you to like it. You squirm on the desk, certain you leave a trail of wetness as Aemond uses the ruler on both your ass cheeks, finding a torturous rhythm. And yet you like it. You want it to happen again, you want to brat. ‘’Fuck,’’ you cry out as three of his fingers enter your pussy. His left hand is feeling you up, when his right continues to punish you for your sins. ‘’Sir, sir please!’ You moan.

‘’Are you sorry?’’ He asks, between fucking you on the desk with his hand and spanking you. You nod, furiously. He sighs, letting go of you and his fingers leave your spent wet cunt. ‘’Good. Don’t be naughty again or I will punish you again.’’ He warns you. You want to brat. And you want to brat so hard that he will punish you with his cock this time. 

You bring your own fingers to your entrance but before that you can shove them in, Aemond has grabbed your wrist, painfully twisting it. ‘’Seems like someone can’t behave herself.’’ You nod, furiously as if you regret it deeply. Aemond sighs. ‘’Pull my pants down for me.’’ He tells you, and you inwardly cheer. You get to work, unbuttoning his jeans for him and pulling them down first, before staring at his boxers which barely hide his erected cock. 

You pull his boxers down too, freeing his cock as the red swollen tip is pushed in your face, with clear precum on the edge. ‘’Get on the desk.’’ He tells you. ‘’Bent over it, the way I know you want to.’’ You know what he means very well, and you obey, bending over the desk so he could take you on it.

He sighs before grabbing one of your hands and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘’Make me go wild, and I’ll fuck your little needy pussy.’’ You obey, your back turned to him as you try to please him with your fingers rubbing his head and his balls. 

You are bended, and Aemond opens your legs roughly and sharply, before going inside of you with his cock, filling you all the way with his length as you silently whisper. Aemond starts to trust and you become lightheaded and carried away on your pleasure. He fits so well. ‘’Sir,’’ you weakly mutter as he fucks you on the table, your book and hello kitty gel pens still present. Aemond grunts as an animal before grabbing the ruler, smacking your cunt this time, causing you to cry out in pleasure. ‘’Sir!’’ You repeat your own cry, before slamming your hips against his own, begging him to finish you. ‘’Please!’’ 

‘’Such a needy cunny. I’m going to come inside of you, little Princess. You are going to tell all your little whore friends about this, that you got fucked by a man in the library, used as a glorified slave. You will tell them how red and throbbing your little pussy was, and you will not tell anyone it was me. Is that understood, or do you need me to fucking explain it another way?’’ You understand, but you would love another explanation because it sounds so dirty.

‘’Another way. I’m pretty stupid.’’

He glares as if he disagrees with that.

‘’Very well.’’

Aemond grabs you by your hips again, fucking you.

‘’’N-no, Aemond, I have a party tonight-’’ You tell him, begging him to be a bit gentle.

He groans. ‘’I don’t care. Fuck your parties.’’

He did not get invited.

‘’Nhn!’’ You cry out as his cock cruelly fucks you, not giving a damn about your warnings.

Aemond’s lips briefly kiss your sweaty forehead. 

‘’Delicious, such a good cunny.’’ He murmurs, rubbing your cunt until blood sticks to his fingers. You need a little push. Just one tiny push. ‘’And now, you will come for me, my slut. When I tell you, you will come all over my cock, soaking me.’’ You nod, bracing yourself.

Aemond fucks you harder and faster and it becomes difficult to hold your orgasm in. You need to release it, you need to find a release fast. ‘’Sir, please.’’ You beg, helpless. He grins, spanking your needy pussy.

‘’I know, but try to show some self-respect, my little brat.’’ 

You wordlessly wail. He sighs, before impaling you thoroughly and resting his hands on your hips. He whispers in your ear. ‘’Come.’’ You obey, freed from a prisoner and let go when you two fuck each other roughly, your muscles hurting from the rough fucking on the desk. And finally, you come all over his cock, just as he promised you would. He takes you two more times after that, bringing you close to two other orgasms, before denying those two. You are taken without warning and lose your control, coming all over him, earning you a spanking and a rough fucking before he comes inside of you as well, with a lot of curse words and grunts. 

‘’Fuck, Y/N.’’ He murmurs, in your ear. You put your underwear and bra back on. The timer ends, revealing that two whole hours have passed. Aemond dresses himself quickly too, looking at your messy hair and glassy eyes. 

You become aware of the feelings and the urge to run far away from them. ‘’I have to go.’’ You tell him.

Aemond stops you, gently and you know he has become himself again, dropping the dom-act.

‘’No. You seem to know some things about Kink, but after playing with my ladies, I give them aftercare. You deserve a bagel, or a donut, or fuck it, another Starbucks if you want. If we were at my place, I’d prepare a bath for you or give you a message.’’ He rambles on. ‘’Let me buy you something nice for your lunch, and at least walk you home.’’ He asks, no, begs. Your face melts at his sweet manners. 

You put your stuff in your back, as Aemond zips up your dress for you, careful to avoid your hairs. He has done this before. You wonder how many times and with who. ‘’She is judging us.’’ He suddenly whispers, nodding to your hello kitty gel pen. 

After two hours he has become just as mad as you have. ‘’She knows too much, I might drown her into my Starbucks later.’’ You tell him.

He does not approve of that idea.

‘’That would be sad and torture.’’

‘’Fine, I’ll just…put her in my pencil case.’’ You do as you promise him, putting the gel pens in your pencil case.

‘’That’s it, good girl.’’

He winks before following you to Starbucks.

‘’Hey, uhm Aemond?”’ You ask after you are waiting for your order. Aemond looks around a little amazed. He has never been here before, calling it a capitalistic hell. 

‘’Yeah?’’ his hands nervously play with his rings. He can be so adorably shy.

‘’What are you doing tonight?’’ You wonder, hoping you don’t regret this. As in, he does not say no.

‘’Not much, I might actually play Zelda. Why?’’ He wonders.

‘’Want to come to this party with me?’’ You blurt out with a smile.

a/nthank you for reading let me know what you think. there might be a part 2 but i havent decided yet.

The eh creatures above the a/n are goombas.

[spotlightlowlife]

Unpopular opinion, at this point, Blitzø is an issue.

Not because he's in the wrong, his situations suck more than him, so do some of those around him (*cough*Stolas *cough*Loona), he sucks because he's becoming more and more of an outlet for writers to play out power and sex fantasies with whilst being edgy and always quick enough to have a remark ready for others, always managing to be the centre of attention but will always be the victim too.

In every conceivable way, he's being wronged or he's punching up.

The arrangementship with Stolas is a case of him being a victim but for those who don't see it this way, Stolas x Blitzø is a chance at happiness, pauper being picked, even though their union was and will always be an inappropriate power imbalance which has now been the case since childhood, back where Blitzø was a victim of his dad, yet a few years later he somehow developed feelings for his friend who seemed like a sibling to him, but he seemed to envy him too? Either way we are too root for his unrequited 'love lost' that we can blame on a fire accidentally caused by none other than Blitzø, but we can also push blame others for this accident too.

Fizz and Barbie may be victims of his recklessness, but he means/meant no harm and he had it just as bad as them, hence the 'sorry but..' he offered Fizz.

Substance abuse got to be something Blitzø endulged in before we met Barbie who we had already been informed is an addict, Blitzø got to be both a boss and a victim during his binge which had even the sin of gluttony beat and concerned, yet when we meet Barbie, she is composed, working and has some success in being able to freely travel, having a human disguise and being able to easily manipulate others, which could have all been good, a change of tone from yet another downtrodden character and a change from a sloppy addict that may have expected, only, we had to be told Barbie was in rehab and recently so, we had to be informed that Blitzø looks out for her and is worried even though we never had never saw him track her progress previously. We meet her, there's nothing to indicate that they have spoken since Blitzø's fall out with Fizz, Barbie is pretty much work a similar job to her brother of causing destruction on Earth, yet morals come into play for just one of them? Neurotic, antisocial and traumatised, comes to earth as an assassin, excellent, no content yet and seems well put together but we have been told is an addict, comes to earth the deal, scum.

Barbie made Blitzø sad by not listening to him and washing her hands of him (again, when did they last speak? Has there been nearly 20 years of the same conversation?), which yet again has us pouring sympathy into him.

Then there's the clearly hurt and robbed Verosika, who's upset is totally glossed over because 'she's so iconic'.

The power dynamics are entirely power play, because there are too many characters supposedly of much higher standing who Blitzø easily rubs shoulders with, stands out to and crosses to no consequence, all for no particular reason, the dismissal of what he says and does is reminiscent of a movie where a ghost doesn't know they're dead or a character doesn't realise their friend is imaginary. All excluding Stolas of course but this but this is where the power play sex fantasy is.

Why are they together? Answer, Blitzø's desperation to have his business work, the whole plot to the show.

Like Hazbin, the pilot started out rather strong, it ticked every box mentioned in one episode, they were a wicked bunch but morally grey, the trip to hospital being a prime example, we met humans, we saw Earth, Stolas was a intimidating and regal, Blitzø was reckless with money and decision making, the advert on a low rating station being the prime example, along with blind nepotism.

How is it that this series hasn't had the time to return to its roots since half way through season one?

When does Blitzø get a break from all this trauma dumping and actually get to have other things going on in his life?

Realistically, someone who works has work to talk about, it is a major part of their life. Someone who runs a business tends to put in more hours than your average worker. Work gives you something to talk about, creates new experiences and problems to solve, has you mixing with other and takes up a lot of your time. Where is any of this?

Until it returns to the plot where he is a business owner actually running his business, having interactions with customers and victims, travelling to Earth more regularly, facing actual threats from those who don't care about how sad he is and are actually bothered by his obnoxious ways, I have a questions.

Where are the common teething issues business tend to have, like budget, landlords, tax, inflation, lack of exposure?

How do they pay their day to day expenses, especially since they have so much time on their hands?

Why aren't they out advertising?

How do I.M.P catch the eye of those who just died and how do these sinners pay?

When was the last time we saw a sinner?

Blitzø's direction gives the impression that he's being written for the chronically online people who wish this was them, that they were more feisty, outgoing and desirable whilst others just got them and felt their misery, something that can easily be done as a viewer, throw in the tried and tested powerful and dangerous royalty that worked so well for Twilight and 50 Shades and we have a character who can be vicariously lived through, basically the classic fairytale default damsel who people also want to criticize. It's like he's being reduced to an clownish caricature, looks the vibrant and animated character we were introduced to but that's all just in paper now, he barely stands out in any recent episodes because his presence wasn't nessessary and when he was relevant, it's for his ship or drama from his past.

While waiting to see him with his coworkers who he voyers on because he's sad and lonely, his rude and violent adult adopted daughter, or learn about the trauma surrounding his mother, or whatever is going on with his user dad, or when we will next see his troubled sister who is mad at him, his bitter ex, his best friend/ex friend/rival/friend who lives the life he should be living who he sexually harasses since reconciliation, or his transactionship, or whatever else is pushed on him and there no doubt will be more. What about his present? What about his daily life outside the misery forever sent his way for us?

He should be encountering strangers and a massive variety of situations he can't entirely control on the regular, having to draw upon his smarts, experiences and group dynamic to get out of binds or be efficient, his trauma, sadness and his sass could be a force of good.

How much of his likability is nostalgia, maybe from outside of show? Outside of the pity and sex jokes, what is being done with him?

This may all be harsh and funny enough I actually like this character, but never have I known a series where the solution to making a main character more deep was is a simple case of

'Let them get on with it!

Let them do their job!

Stick to the story!'

Well I do know one other case...

[peachlybeloved]

I posted on twitter recently about how frustrating it is to watch episodes in which Mulder is inexplicably far more cold and dismissive towards Scully, and I’ve been thinking deeply hard about it ever since and I realized what I REALLY wanted to say was that I don’t ACTUALLY believe Fox Mulder is a perfect guy. In fact, the real reason I wrote that post was more so because I staunchly dislike the way that gets handled in the writer’s room.

To start the discussion, Fox Mulder is a victim of trauma which has caused him to become partly antisocial. He also happens to be a man. If you want the truth, I think Mulder can ABSOLUTELY be rude sometimes!! In fact, I think he has a terrible case of foot-in-mouth syndrome. He is impulsive. He is childish. He is obsessive. He can be inappropriately crass and honestly kind of a creep at times. He is! unfortunately! sometimes dismissive and condescending towards Scully!! Both of which are a result of him being rather socially inept and also, as I mentioned before, a man. A man capable of misogyny.

Obviously, these traits are reasonably unpleasant to view. But if he was perfect, he wouldn’t be an interesting character, which is why, in a literary sense, these traits STILL make him a compelling character. Or at least, they give him the potential for this to be the case.

To get to my point, it’s really the way these traits of his are HANDLED in the writer’s room that pisses me off!! ^_^ WITH such negative traits, the writers have the opportunity to move him in a better direction ON SCREEN towards growth and self-betterment. However, these episodes of which I speak ENTIRELY FAIL TO ADDRESS THIS BEHAVIOR FROM HIM. In order for these negative traits to pay off they must be acknowledged and/or addressed, neither of which seem to happen as a consequence of his behavior.

During these “dickhead” episodes, none of the characters really seem to pick up on it let alone challenge him. And in the rare chance they do, he doesn’t change and it’s never spoken of again. Most frustratingly of all, these spells of childish and rude behavior are often confined to a single episode. Just one isolated 45-minute event in which he seems far more irate than usual and in turn, acts dismissively and coldly, often towards a woman he claims to love, and often disregarding all previously established character development. And so, the next episode rolls around and we’re back to regular programming. The more familiar balance between his lovable traits with his more challenging ones. And so you see, when the writers dial up the dickheadisms for an episode, fail to address it, and move on like it didn’t mean a thing, THATS FRUSTRATING. It’s frustrating because there was potential for him to get to build character, to learn to respect Scully better, to grow as a man and set a good example. So when the writers choose not to acknowledge the problem, it feels more like they just wanted Mulder to go on an inconsequential power-trip of vague misogyny and self-importance. Which DOES feel like a betrayal to his character. And it’s a betrayal to his character NOT to properly examine his negative traits, where they come from, and how he can grow from them, precisely BECAUSE he IS. Ultimately. A LOVABLE PERSON.

You see, this really isn’t a Mulder-bashing post at all, because I really do love him!! Aside from being rude and condescending and a bit of a fucking freak sometimes, Fox Mulder IS a kind person under this defensive trauma induced layer of coldness he puts on sometimes. He is dedicated, he is compassionate, and he is relentlessly loyal to the few select people he chooses to love.

I KNOW he does grow and change across seasons, slowly opening up to possibilities and ideas he hasn’t before considered, learning to let people in and love him, and in turn learning to love them back properly. I just would have loved to see this growth addressed more head-on in writing without it coming off as a joke to the writers. An unflawed character is boring writing, but writing a flawed character and then failing to let him visibly change or even address why it’s a problem is frustrating writing.

In conclusion: Fox Mulder possesses a myriad of antisocial traits which he was socialized into for reasons outside of his control. This is amazing set up for a GREAT character growth arc which ultimately has felt far too underdeveloped and sloppy to me so far. Which is! Disappointing whenever it jumps out on screen to say the least. I still love him endlessly tho. :,)

So anyway. THATSSS probably my biggest critique abt the x-files writer’s room abt half-way through!! ^_^ See ya.

[tblsomedoodles]

So...

Seer Donnie: the smug know it all who wants to show off in front of his other wedges but is secretly super jealous of FW Donnie (Webs is probably his nickname lol) cuz while the future sight is fine, the spider limbs are infinitely more useful

Dee is the grumpy one. Raised by Raphie in 03, antisocial, and cusses like a saulilor. He's the one who is the most anxious to get home, but also is the most experienced in dimensional travel

Angie's Donnie is the most normal Donnie. He doesn't joke around as much and is soekwhat insecure cuz his other selves are all super cool and have special abilities in their own right. He's also the best one with tech tho since he doesn't have any special powers or anything to help and Dee basically is using shit form the 90's andbslowlynipgradingnto modern and then futuristic

Webs is jsut so damn confused and wants to go home

Lol yes! I think all three of them would be jealous of Webs extra limbs to an extent ( there's a reason Donnies make mechanical limbs for themselves.) Seer (we'll just call him Seer for this) is just a little more than the other two b/c he feels like he lost the superpower lotoery while Webs clearly won the jackpot.

And yes, Webs is very confused by all this, but honestly, he's having a blast. He knows he'll go home eventually, but he decided to join Dee and Donnie on this trip, he's going to enjoy it, damn it lol.

Thank you!

Raphie standing there, practically vibrating as he tries to resist adopting all three of them lol : )

Thank you!

He knows his twin lol : ) but yeah, Leon's probably not having the best time right now. Because by the time Dee gets back, he's probably gone for about a week, between getting lost in the first place, figuring out how to parallel dimension hop, and then the various hops it takes to get home. So yeah, Leon's probably feels very lost right about then.

Thank you!

[number63liveblogs]

The Last Graduate, Chapter 4

I knew he hadn’t come up with the idea on his own. 

No, but it’s quite clear that he genuinely would have wanted to go on a road trip with El and whoever else. He just didn’t think of the implications.

And the power-sharer he wore only went one way, so he had to go round killing them if he wanted mana[.]

Wait, did I miss something? Shouldn’t Orion be able to make mana the normal way, like exercise and doing something tedious? Because sure, the amount he would get that way wouldn’t be the same as what he gets from killing mals (the time he gave El ten times the mana she can hold can attest to that) but it isn’t nothing, and considering that everyone else manages their school work without getting mana from their kills he should too.

Or are his spells that badly optimized? Is he that bad at controlling when he uses mana?

I wonder if there are any physical or psychological symptoms from him not having access to the same amount of mana as he’s gotten used to. He seems like he’s distracted, but that might just be that his enclave has protected him from the consequences of his actions thus far, and he hasn’t had to actually pay attention to anything before.

I’m also very interested in the “crispiness” that Orion sees in El. Especially because they started interacting basically at random at the end of, like third year. Why didn’t Orion talk to her before, if she’s different like that? Is he just that antisocial normally?

[deusexlachina]

Antisocial DAO Part 7 (Denerim 1): Corner the elfroot market and become powerful enough to have a gay awakening

In which I corner the elfroot market, solve a mystery that I didn't know was a mystery by ignoring social cues, lose at cards and form a relationship with my coworker because I am the only other queer woman around.

It's time to move onto other quests, but, while I'm among my own people, I should spend my hard-earned gold. The Brecilian Forest is a great quest to do first, because it's relatively easy and gives a ton of treasure to help with the remaining quests. You can spend it on all kinds of things: Perhaps some better equipment. Or maybe a training manual to refine your skills. Or SEVEN THOUSAND ELFROOT.

Once you recruit each army, you can give them corresponding supplies to make them stronger in the final battle. For a more immediate reward, you also get experience. Most of these supplies are relatively scarce: runes, gems, or - with a fairly poor rate of return, gold. The elves want elfroot. They also SELL elfroot. And their stock is infinite. I am, in effect, buying seven thousand elfroot from the Dalish and giving it back to them for free. I buy elfroot until my inventory is full. Then I sell or gift most of my worldly possessions to make room for more elfroot. I dump a lot of gifts on Leliana, who doesn't have very high approval because I am openly against the Chantry.

Since elfroots are a medicinal ingredient, I like to think of this as an abstraction of me single-handedly bankrolling and supplying the elves' healthcare for post-werewolf complications, because that is substantially less stupid.

Even though going between my camp and the Dalish camp doesn't involve world map travel, I decide I'm only allowed to make one trip, or else I'm taking too much time away from the Blight. Honestly, I could have easily gotten away with making numerous trips and putting my elfroot economy into the five-digits. But I've spent long enough looking at this particular screen:

Next up is the mages, but the road to Lake Calenhad comes from Denerim, and I have business there. I need to visit Brother Genitivi to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes so I can heal Arl Eamon so he can supply me with an army. I find his apprentice, Weylon.

It's actually an imposter trying to cover up Genitivi's disappearance, but I can't tell because I Am Socially Inept - the amount of Cunning needed to figure this out would let me pass at least some checks, and we can't have that.

This is horrible because the imposter wants to take me on a wild goose chase to Lake Calenhad, which wouldn't be a problem because I'm going there anyway, except then I'd have to go all the way back to Denerim to confront the imposter and learn where Genitivi really went. I Am A Grey Warden, and I have no time for such a detour.

Being reluctant to go searching for Genitivi without more leads, I tell the Real Legitimate Weylon I'm just gonna poke around his house for clues. He tells me it's rude to poke around stranger's houses, but what do I know of social niceties?

I insist and I get into a fight with him and kill him, then discover the real Weylon's corpse along with Genitivi's notes pointing to a place called Haven. I have solved this mystery completely by accident. For all I knew, I just killed the real Weylon over an argument because he wouldn't let me into a room.

Being suddenly level 17, I can pick another subclass. But the only one I can get is Shapechanger, which is terrible. Blood Mage is excellent, but can only be unlocked by making a deal with a demon. You can make it a very one-sided deal with a very difficult Intimidate check, but I Am Socially Inept, so the only way to be a Blood Mage is to sell a little boy's soul. Gross. I decide to dedicate myself to the lofty path of a healer, since there is literally nothing better for me to do.

I spend nearly all funds that were not invested in elfroot to buy a Tome of the Spirit Healer. You'd think I could learn how to be a Spirit Healer from Wynne the Spirit Healer I'm going to visit. Unfortunately, Wynne is such a bad teacher that her one pupil ran into the forest. This Tome is the only way to be a Spirit Healer yourself.

Leliana also needs another specialization, but I'm cleaned out. I'll need to get one for free. I can get one at the Pearl. Is that allowed, with my rule against World Map detours? I decide I can, since the Denerim map is separate from the World Map, and on that map it's clearly like a block away from the entrance. The biggest city in Ferelden is tiny!

I head off to the Pearl, but am accosted by a Loghain Loyalist, who accuses the Grey Wardens of intentionally killing the King. This tense situation can be immediately and smoothly resolved with your choice of social check.

So, of course, there is no choice but to kill this man.

Even if you refuse to kill him, if you can't back it up with a social check he just sneaks up on you later. I ask to do it in single combat to spare his men. Thankfully, that doesn't take another social check. This is the first victim of my lack of social skills (Danyla not counting because she dies no matter what). His men take their friend's death surprisingly well, saying that he couldn't have had a more honourable death rather than "Oh Maker! Oh fuck! My friend just got his head smashed in by a rancid elf with a huge hammer!"

At the Pearl, there are some mercenaries being gross to the sex workers. I use my social skills to defuse the situation, a phrase which here means pissing them off so much that they forget about bullying people and just try to kill me.

I focus fire their leader, so he quickly surrenders. I make him leave and give me all their ill-gotten gains. Or maybe it was their paycheck. If so, they don't deserve it. Bloody cops.

With them out of the way, I speak to Isabela, the most beautiful woman in the world. Well. She is a few years later. Take it from me, a few years can do a lot for a girl's appearance. Pre-everything Isabella is impressed to see another trans woman who answers to no one, a comment I can only assume alludes to my sui generis hairstyle, lack of decorum and weapons-grade Miasma (the second-worst smell in this Sexytime House). I am glad she approves.

I saw her single-handedly defeat several men, so she will make a great teacher for Leliana. She will teach Leliana, but she wants something in return. I offer her my beautiful filthy body. This does not work because I Am Socially Inept.

Thus, I have to beat her in a card game. For a refresher, I am doing this to maximize Leliana's combat potential to stop the Blight, which threatens to destroy this city, along with the entire region. And I have to play a fucking card game. This is quite possibly the worst indignity in my entire career as a Grey Warden...

...not least because I lack any skill that could possibly help me play cards. I don't have Dexterity because I don't need it, I don't have Stealing because that's for Leliana, I don't have Stealth because I'm not a rogue, and I don't have Cunning because it would make me socially adept [bad]. I lose round after round. Eventually, Leliana takes pity on me, interrupts my card game, and takes me aside to explain that, sometimes, people cheat at cards.

With Leliana's help, I am able to beat Isabela at her own game (Wicked Grace/cheating) and she agrees to teach Leliana how to duel.

After seeing me attempt to seduce Isabela, Leliana sees a fellow queer. She knows she has to make the first move, because I Am Socially Inept. So she compliments my hair, since I clearly seem to be quite proud of it. She calls my enormous twintails a "simple" style, which says a lot about Orlesian hair fashion.

I press her on this bizarre claim, and she insists that my hair is simpler and nicer than hair with live, shitting birds in it.

This makes sense, but now I'm distracted, wondering why someone would put birds in their hair. Is this a human thing? Seeing as I seem to be hung up on the hair issue and not really getting it, she lays out all her cards, just like she laid out Isabela's cards earlier today. She hasn't felt this close to anyone in a long time, perhaps because my Miasma makes everyone hyperaware of my presence whether they want to be or not.

I respond well to this flirting, and we hit it off, because being in a relationship with Leliana doesn't require a social check - she knows what to expect from me at this point.

A wonderful woman has taken a chance on me! Keeper Marethari would be proud. I sure hope this relationship goes better than my other social interactions!

[lakesbian]

@tessa-tumbls

he's keeping being heartbreaker's child a secret from everyone, but brian, lisa, and rachel are all aware of what his powers actually do. the only reasons taylor doesn't find out until arc 10 are

he's refraining from using the full extent to lay low--whipping them out for the fairly low-level crime the undersiders are doing would draw a lot of forms of unwanted attention to him and the team as a whole

lisa is intentionally lying about his power to taylor to avoid scaring her off, because "we have someone on our team who can turn people into puppets" is a lot more morally intimidating for a wannabe-hero undergoing a corruption arc than "we have someone on our team who trips people." this is most blatantly demonstrated in lisa's interlude when she intentionally lowers her voice while speaking to alec and calls it his "secret weapon" because taylor is in vague proximity

as for "intentionally the inconveniently, annoyingly honest one," that's not it, no. alec is not an intelligent manipulator. the full extent of his background-obfuscation is just, like, not talking very much and sometimes telling mundane lies to make himself sound more normal if someone asks about his life prior to the team ('dropped out' of school vs 'never went'). if this was some calculated ploy he did on purpose he wouldn't be fervently insisting that at least he Knows he's an asshole in his interlude. he is just genuinely trying to be a person who doesn't Bullshit, likely as a differentiation from other people in the vasil household. i think there's also likely the element of, like, he's not great at the whole Moral Compass thing, and "being honest/real about shit is good, or at least respectably upfront about being bad" is a fairly simple edict even he can follow. sometimes it leads to him doing dumb shit like backtalking the bomb-wielding madwoman holding them up or going "mindrape? you mean you mindraped your sister? maybe we can turn her into a bug-borg i bet shed love that" to amy while everyone else is actively trying to make her less distressed, but, y'know. they can't all be winners. it's honestly fairly impressive on his behalf that even w/ how irony-poisoned and repressed he is he still always intentionally tries to explain undersider jokes + conversational references for taylor. so far the only time he hasn't clarified intent is when he hasn't realized she's misinterpreting. hes a good little prince!! hes doing his best to not be antisocial!!

“What was that with Faultline and you?” I murmured to Tattletale, “History?” “Nothing important,” she replied. Regent leaned forward.  “She and Tattletale have been feuding a little.  Faultline upped the ante when she poached Spitfire from us when we were in the middle of trying to recruit her.  Can’t say why Faultline doesn’t like Tattle, but I know Tattletale hates it when people act like they’re smarter than her, and Faultline is smarter than her.  Ow.  Fuck, that hurt.”

huh. interesting pattern that keeps occurring here where when taylor asks a question or does something awkward that leads to the other undersiders refusing or being hesitant to explain something to her directly, alec is always the one who pipes up to explain. Inchresting. i'll have to send that to the alec analysis labs and report back later

[c-is-for-circinate]

C3 E23 post-ep!

Oh what a fucking ending on that one!

--I love this show a bunch you guys

--That fight was delightful and they all have really fun new stuff to play with, which is great. Also, headcanon that Ashton's new level-up powers come partially because, now that he remembers the stuff in his head, he's more aware of it and can do shit with it further.

--Still having thoughts about the NPC nature of the party, and what that means, because instinctively I absolutely agree with that designation but it's interesting to think about why! And you know, I do think the Hells' just sort of general, "...yeah, sure, this makes as much sense as anything" accept-any-weirdness nature is actually part of it. I'm not putting the words together properly in my head, but...there's a certain degree to which, in order to let stories move along and not get too caught up in minutia, Matt's NPCs have to just notice the inevitable weirdness of any well-rounded PC party, and just sort of nod, and go about their business, and decide Not To Ask. Why does that woman have antlers and that other one have a bear? Those sound like great questions for somebody else. Is that one a goblin? Didn't she used to be a goblin? Is that a completely different accent than that guy had last time he came through? You know what, we're just not gonna bring it up. Weirdness which directly impacts the NPCs or the things that those NPCs are created to care about, gets noticed/reacted to/commented on. Assorted weirdness that happens out of those NPCs' direct line of sight or area of focus just...doesn't get commented on. And this is exactly the spirit of the Hells' general laissez-faire attitude towards each other's assorted oddities. If it matters, it'll come up! We'll be supportive! Otherwise, eh, you know what, we in no way have time to unpack all that, so I'm just gonna let it go and forward the plot.

--Having feelings about Ashton "don't like anyone" Greymoore immediately lunging for the chain gun as soon as the last manta ray is down, and having way more feelings about him scooping Orym up to put him inside to bed. And the way he told Laudna to get to cover. And the way he clearly had no idea what to do with FCG's whole 'you're our leader!' thing, but was willing to at least nominally try. (I am maybe still a little salty about some of the meta going around a couple of weeks ago about how Ashton's chip-on-his-shoulder antisocial tendencies were obvious and complete, his only loyalties were transactional, and anybody suggesting otherwise was bringing their personal biases to bear in inaccurate ways. I am going to remain a little salty about said meta throughout this trip to Ashton's hometown and as we continue to get more and more evidence of how much he cares about people and tries to tell himself he doesn't.) Anyway, I very much appreciate Orym, who is always instantly the guy trying to get in the way of the blow and shield his teammates, being the one who gets rescued by the two flimsy glass canon girls, and then being picked up and carried to bed with encouraging words by the other tank who purports not to care about anybody.

--I have been avoiding talking about that final scene because holy shit that final scene but just. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

--I am going to hate it if Imogen decides not to believe Laudna (who's telling the truth!), and further isolates herself, and this causes a rift. I will hate it! I will also absolutely devour any resolution that comes when they reconcile over such a thing. On the other hand, if they decide to subvert that tropic expectation -- if Imogen gets a good night's sleep and remembers that, oh right, she trusts her best friend! with anything! she knows better! -- then oh fuck I am gonna be all over that.

--Delilah why did you eat the magic rock. Delilah what did you do. Delilah are you trying to rebuild yourself a living body by eating magic rocks. Laudna you might want to do something about this before it becomes a habit--

--I am so, so fucking interested in seeing whether and if and how the Hells' collective minding-their-own-beeswax, gray morals, but mostly not actual murderers thing is going to break upon the reveal of what Chetney gets up to when they're not there. I am fascinated by how Chetney does and doesn't fit in with the rest of the group, because he's straight-up not a team player in ways that feel like they specifically invoke a particular shitty classic kind of toxic ttrpg character/player, which I can only imagine is on purpose! Going off on your own, hiding loot from the rest of the party out of general selfishness rather than plot stuff, murdering or threatening to murder average townsfolk while the rest of the party's backs are turned...like, that's a stereotype. And it's not one I could ever even imagine Travis Willingham (who's an extremely generous team player in a D&D setting, we've seen him) falling into by accident. So I'm very very curious about how this is going to break, because there's layers to this one, and I'm eager to unpick.

[impzone]

Could you tell me more about solar austus, max, and jackson if possible? :3c

of course, i'd be happy to! all of those characters are currently npcs in a dnd campaign i'm running (players have met two of them) so i'm putting their info under a readmore. my dear players i am asking you to look away from this ask 🙏

-- SOLAR AUSTUS --

Austus is their name, Solar is their title. They're a holy warrior of the sun, with their body capable of harnessing the sun's power due to a divine transformation they're undergoing. This gives their body a glowing, warm appearance. Their current quest is to bring light into dark places, and they commonly fight back against shadow monsters and accompany adventurers in their nighttime travels. They want to travel all of Kyor and feel the sunlight in all its high places, with their final goal being to become a vessel of the sun itself. This process of becoming the sun involved a ritual, with a magic tattoo being placed on them to slowly mutate their body into a vessel. They can speed up this process by using more of their sunlight abilities and furthering their quest. Austus is odd in their mannerisms, but as friendly as can be. They enjoy helping others, but also won't miss the chance to stop and rest. Their strange nature and dedication to their quest make them quite lonely, so they treasure the time they get to spend with other parties. Their story is currently unfolding in the dnd campaign, so we'll see how their quest goes!

-- MAX --

Max is an exiled Vaness, who now travels the country taking bounty hunter jobs with his partner. He was exiled because he killed his own brother when he was a teen, but this was due to a curse that was placed on him before he was born. The curse fills with him an insatiable lust for blood and flesh, which while makes him an excellent fighter, it keeps him from stopping before the other person is mangled to hell. The Vaness are fighters, but in a sport sense. They admire fighting as an art but condemn senseless bloodshed, so when Max killed his brother they sent him away. Lucky for Max, there is a way to cope with the curse. He found out that if he eats raw animal meat (that due to the curse he can process) that need for killing completely goes away for a while, its just a matter of eating it every week, like a medicine. Him and his partner will go on hunting trips to keep this condition managed. :) Writing out his backstory now makes him seem really edgy, but he's quite upbeat, playful and outgoing! He's the kind of person who's presence uplifts a room. He loves to wrestle and generally goof around, as guys do.

-- JACKSON --

Jackson is a hitman/bounty hunter that is currently working for the Order Church. He feels no actual affiliation with their ideology, but he works for them because the pay is good and it keeps him out of trouble with the law (since, well, they are the law). Jackson is an antisocial weirdo who got himself possessed by a demon in hopes of it making him more sociable and charismatic. The demon he got himself into a deal with, Sonia, is a mirror demon. Mirror demons make special pacts with people to act as a sort of 'coach', in exchange for the person engaging in the demon's vice. For Jackson's case, his demon makes him more assertive, charismatic, and confident, while he's supposed to kill and cause violence for the demon. Right now, the demon and Jackson are two semi-separate people, with the end goal that their personalities, traits, and consciousness merge until there is no distinction and they function as one entity, both internally and externally. Because Jack does not normally crave incredible violence, and because of his lack of ability to control the vices of his demon, this process of becoming one is not going super well. Unlike Max, Jackson does act a bit edgy. He's aloof, tries to act cool and badass, but often just comes across as strange and like a bit of a loser. With the demon helping him, he comes across as much more intimidating and fills the role of 'badass hitman' better. Though, under all that, all Jackson really wants is to fit better into society and make some real genuine friends.

[scientifically-strange]

New Kid

The new kid wasn't anything special, Rogue decided. Sure, he got along well enough with everybody, but he didn't have a big presence. Since he got to the institute, he's maybe said two words.

Mr. Logan said that he's a friend of his, and that they should respect him and give him space. How Mr. Logan made friends with a kid outside of the school, Rogue would never know.

To be honest, Rogue was a little creeped out by Danny. he was always watching them, and anytime anybody moved to quickly he would always flinch. He couldn't trust them enough not to hurt them. They never would, not unless he started it, of course, but it was still annoying to be thought of as a villain.

On top of that, he like, never sleeps. The bags under his eyes are huge, and he always looks so exhausted. She thinks he has some kind of ice power, because anytime she's near him the temperature drops at least ten degrees. At night it's even worse. She swears to Kitty that she saw frost creeping up on the wall that separates their rooms.

Currently he was sitting near the window where Mr. Logan was sitting as he read the morning newspaper. He was looking down at his food, but not really eating it. He did, however, down his coffee in record time. It hadn't even cooled down yet. Logan looked over briefly as he set the cup down a little too hard, and rolled his eyes.

--------

Danny knew he was being weird. He knew he was being as antisocial and he should at least try talking to someone other than Logan, but he just didn't have the energy to do so. He's been there a month and has barely slept a wink because every time he closed his eyes he saw his mother standing over him, a flash of silver in her hand, and then-

No. not here. Not anymore. He wasn't going to let what they did to him stop him from having a somewhat normal life. In a school full of other people like him. Except they weren't really, were they? They were all born with their powers, they have the special gene. He was just stupid enough to get into a lab accident. He's not a mutant, he's a freak.

He stayed in the kitchen until everybody but he and Logan filed out. He enjoyed the quiet only when there was somebody else with him. If he was alone without a distraction then he would start thinking about them, and he really, really didn't want to do that.

"You know, you can talk to them," Logan said from his place on the windowsill.

"Sorry, was I brooding to loud for you?" Danny shot back. His snark was reflexive, and it was the only thing he had going for him at this point. Logan though, he just raised an eyebrow at him. There was no judgement, just an understanding. Danny supposed that if anybody was going to, it would be Logan. "Sorry," he said for real this time. "It's just...Hard."

"I know, Casper."

-------

"Woah, is that a new suit?" Nightcrawler asked as Danny finally stepped into the Danger Room with them. Danny nodded. Professor Xavier really outdid himself with this one.

His new suit was the simple black and white he preferred, but it was short sleeved with protective armor added in, and a pair of fingerless gloves. There was a bright green X on his shoulder pads and chest.

"Yeah. Pretty cool, right?"

"For sure. You ready for your first trip in the Danger Room?"

"Let's get started."

----

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise.

Danny had gotten knocked down, and Rogue, who had just finished borrowing Kurt's power, helped him up. He had reflexively tightened his grip, and he couldn't let her go. She just kept taking and taking and taking until the edges of Danny's vision started turning black.

There was a grip around his wrist and his hand was suddenly empty, but there was a grip around his wrist and they wouldn't let go, they wouldn't let go-

Then there was a pulse in his head, and his whole world went dark.

-------

When Danny woke up, the lights weren't the blinding, fluorescent lights he was used to. In fact, they were all off, save for a small lamp sitting on the nightstand.

"I had them turn it off," a voice said. Danny turned his head weakly. Rouge was sitting there, twiddling with her gloves. "I...I know why you don't like them."

"You do?" He asked. His voice was quiet, weak. Rouge only nodded, not meeting him in the eye.

"When I touch people, I can gain their physical abilities...And also there memories. I...I know what happened to you."

"Oh," Danny said, because what else was there to say? So you know about my parents ripping me apart molecule by molecule? How do you feel? Do you wanna talk about it? Somehow Danny figured that wasn't really gonna work out.

"I won't tell anybody. I know that's what you're worried about," she said, finally meeting his eyes.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, anytime. But I do have one question."

"Yeah?"

"Did you really meet Wolverine by falling on top of him in your underwear?"

For the first time in a month Danny smiled. It wasn't one of those big ear-to-ear grins, but it felt real, and that was more than he could ask for. He chuckled a little as he sat up, turning to Rogue because it was a hilarious story.

"Okay," he said. "So this natural portal dropped me off somewhere in the bumfuck of Canada..."

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

I'm so glad the ENTP personality type for Gojo was brought up. It's so misleading for people to say Gojo has a God complex/narcissism/high functioning antisocial personality disorder/psychopath/no feelings, etc.

People think just because Gojo has a few symptoms like being arrogant, talking excessively, impulsive, reckless, and lacking empathy, etc means he has some sort of complex/disorder.

HOWEVER, the reason 🤔 anon brought up ENTP is because some people are NATURALLY like that, and they don't necessarily have any of those issues! There's a reason ENTPs are so misunderstood!

It's like trying to pick a healthy herb from a poisonous one. There are herbs that look almost EXACTLY the same, but one of them will kill you and the other is safe to eat. You have to notice certain key differences between those herbs to make sure you don't die.

That's why 🤔 anon said Gojo is just an ENTP. Those "symptoms" from those disorders are common personality traits for ENTPs. It doesn't make them bad people. In fact, if you notice, even tho people assume Gojo is always messing around, he's always working in the background to make sure everyone is safe, especially Yuji (which has been discussed before so I won't repeat). Even Nanami knows that behind Gojo's act is someone who works tirelessly and is giving so much of himself to Society that he can't catch a break to even stroll through town without working. Notice how Gojo always boasts that he's the strongest (something OTHER PEOPLE have dubbed him. He personally always said "WE are the Strongest until... Ya know). Gojo never boasts or even tells anyone how he goes on business trips just to find someone to care for Yuji, or how he goes out of his way to fight the higher ups to save one life. Plus, if he was boasting to gain praise, why does he say that to Nanami and Utahime and his students? They always insult him. If he wanted praise, he'd go to strangers and make them tell him how handsome he is.

The truth is, he only brags to annoy people. Because why would he go to people who obviously dislike being with him to get self assurance? Because he doesn't need it. He just likes poking fun at his friends.

People want someone with a God Complex? Someone who thinks he's better than everyone else, and only cares for himself? Someone with a complex/disorder? A huge narcissist with an ego? Who only seeks power even if everyone around him gets hurt?

You got Naoya Zenin.

You got most Zenins.

Not Gojo Satoru.

And we all know how much people hate the Zenins.

You can't tell me Gojo and Naoya are the same 🙄

They may look the same on the SURFACE, but like with the poisonous herb and the healthy one, though they are similar, one of them will kill you and one of them is safe to eat.

I honestly have a hunch people are romanticizing people with disorders too much and willing to have a toxic relationship because they purposefully make Gojo pretty much OOC just so he can abuse them. I'm not kinkshaming or anything, but it's annoying when people try to make your kink canon and people actually believe Gojo would go out of his way to hurt someone by cheating on them and playing with their feelings. People who've been cheated on know how much effort and sneaking around cheating actually takes, and Gojo has better things to do 🙄

Also I love your blog, and I'm glad I can text all my feelings out here to share with everyone. Thank you 💘💖💗💕💝💓💞

Ohhh mann I really enjoyed reading your thoughts and I COULDN'T AGREE MORE! 🔥you explained really well that I don't need to add on anything else. Gojo is truly a misunderstood character and it's sad to see that some people actually believe hes just some egotistical dude. Theres so much behind his actions if only people took the time to look into him more. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON NAOYA my gawd now that dude I swear 😤 hes good looking but look at his personality people look past that just because he looks hot smh

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts my blog is always welcome for discussions or thoughts 💖

[darling-leech]

Angus Peyton Everston’s Fallout Character Sheet

I used DarthSuki’s Fallout OC Meme 2.0 and I used this Font.

Here’s A Blank version if anyone wants to use it(Remember to credit DarthSuki tho)!:

ANYWAYS Let’s begin his background!

Name: Angus Peyton Everston(Registration AU-500PR)

Race: White

Religion: Agnostic

Gender and Pronouns: Cisgender Man and He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual. Also is Polyamorous.

Age: 37

Birthday: December 11, 2236

Birthplace: The Hub

Height: 5′9 FT 

Weight: 150 LBS

Hair Color: White(#FFFFFF). His EYEBROWS/EYELASHES are Black( #000000) tho. But his BEARD/HAIR ON HIS HEAD are WHITE(#FFFFFF). (I used Zella’s Hair Dye Collections mod for his hair color and eyebrow color).

Hairstyle: Rebel

Facial Hair: Lone Wanderer

Beard Color: White(#FFFFFF)

Eye Color: Dark Brown(#331900)

Skin Color: I think it’s called the Pale option in Fallout 4(Like #F1C39F).

Game of Origin: Fallout 3(I say Fallout 3 even tho he technically dies before the events of Fallout 3 start)

BEHAVIOR/TECHNICAL:

Voice Actor: Jason Simpson

Karma: Neutral

Aggression: Unaggressive?

Confidence: Brave

Assistance: Helps Friends and Allies

S.P.E.C.I.A.L Stats: Strength 5, Perception 5, Endurance 5, Charisma 8, Intelligence 8, Agility 3, and Luck 3

Perks/Tagged: Educated, Energy Weapons, Gun Nut, Medicine, Repair, Science, and Speech to name a few.

Weaknesses: Locksmith, Pickpocket, Sneak, and abit of a Workaholic.

Affiliation: Brotherhood of Steel 

BOS Rank: Scribe/Proctor for Order of the Shield/Order of the Quill.

Role: Engineer/Scientist? NOT THE SOLE SURVIVOR OR LONE WANDERER(So PLEASE DON’T tag him as either).

Most Liked Companions: N/A

Least Liked Companions: N/A

Preferred Weapon Type: Laser/Energy  

Primary Weapons: Laser Rifle

Secondary Weapons: Laser Pistol

Preferred Armor Type: N/A

Primary Armor: Brotherhood Scribe Robes

Power Armor?: NO

RELATIONSHIPS:

FAMILY:

Parents: *I’m leaving this blank for now because I haven’t gotten that far into Angus’s background yet, I’ll update this when I do*

Siblings: None?

Friends: SEVERAL. Leif Axel Gunnar, Carmen Renee Ruth Everston, Aito Jun Tsukiya, Jin Kyoko Tsukiya,  Courtney Nicole Stevens, Elder Owyn Lyons, Sarah Lyons, Reginald Rothchild, Scribe Peabody, Elizabeth Jameson, Scribe Bowditch, Squire Maxson to name a few.

Lovers: THREE?. Carmen Renee Ruth Everston, Aito Jun Tsukiya, and Leif Axel Gunnar

SPOUSE: Carmen Renee Ruth Everston(They’re Married and have a Open Relationship)

Rivals: N/A?

Enemies: N/A?

Children: Felix Sebastian Everston and Eugenia Alexandra Everston “Alex”

Pets: Has/had two Rad-Ferrets. One is all White named Ghost. One is a Glowing One named Biscuit. Had a Sphynx Cat(Family Pet lol) named Frankie growing up. 

Background(Note: I’m still in the process of writing this so it’ll seem like a mess til I get it finished all the way so please bear with me): Grew up in The Hub(Him, Carmen, and Leif grew up together) and when he was 18 he joined up with the Brotherhood of Steel(Lost Hills). He and Carmen had Felix when they were 17, right before they joined the BOS. In 2254/2255, he was one of the Scribes that went with Elder Owyn Lyons to the Capital Wasteland. Him and Carmen feel in love, and married(They have an open relationship). Also is in a relationship with Aito Jun Tsukiya and Leif Axel Gunnar. One day in 2264, him and Carmen were out gathering technical documents and were attacked by a Deathclaw(It was only Him and Carmen on this scouting trip), hence why Him and Carmen have the scars on their face(Carmen took the majority of the hit tho trying to protect him, hence why she has more scars on her face). July 31, 2268, Him and Carmen had Alex. He and Carmen die when Alex was 5 years old(2273, so 4 years before Fallout 3 starts), they ended up getting attacked by a Super Mutant Behemoth while scouting for more technology/technical documents, leaving Alex in the care/as a ward of Sarah Lyons/Elder Owyn Lyons and Leif Axel Gunnar. Has Antisocial Personality Disorder(aka ASPD) and Autism. Also has some Vision Loss in his left eye and Migraines. 

Languages Spoken: English(Native Language), American Sign Language, Latin, German, Mandarin Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Spanish, Norwegian, and French.

I guess now’s a good time to share his RefSheet.Net as well!

[modern-inheritance]

I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly.  Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh? 

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns. 

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures​ for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!