#someone remind me to do a comic on that cause i keep forgetting

[todayisafridaynight]

idk what's wrong with rgg studio and why do they need to kill every major antag i mean ?? some of them wasn't THAT irredeemable!!! most of them are just stupid or/and dramatic and i don't know what do THEY think but my HUMBLE OPINION is that half of their antags could have better story ending by NOT DYING and redeeming themselves and being better people !!

aaaand yes i am also salty about aoki i get u man it COULD BE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL STORY ABOUT. ACCEPTING YOUR FUCKUPS AND LIVING WITH THEM. they could have killed sota kume instead if they needed to meet their killing quota no one cares about this mf like whatever

rgg is able to write really compelling characters and villain but they just utterly refuse to commit to a redemption arc. why i dont know but its so frustrating. closest we get is hamazaki but even HE bites the dust and it sucks so much we can't have one (1) redeemed character stick around

aoki's case is the one that makes me want to grind my teeth into dust the most because his death was at the literal very end of the cutscene- there was like thirty seconds left and they just had to fill the quota. ichi had successfully talked him down and had seemingly made a breakthrough to him- HELL, AOKI EVEN SAID HE WAS READY TO TURN HIMSELF IN so for RGG to pull the biggest Go Fuck Yourself is ACTUALLY blood boiling

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You know, one of my favorite headcanons is that Nightmare's and Dream's Negativity and Positivity auras cause permanent damage to the soul if used too frequently.

My thought process about it is literally just that they function basically as extraneous bodies influencing the soul from the inside. Meaning that, with enough exposure, an actual extraneous residue can remain inside the soul. It's basically like an incurable infection.

Now, imagine this applied to Killer. Killer who probably chased after the feelings of the aura at least at first because sometimes he needs to feel literally anything at all to not lose it (and because the pain that came after the high was grounding and 'fun' in the way he's been conditioned to regard all pain).

And imagine him after running away from Nightmare and finally finding a a safe space with Color only to be hit with the realization that both of the ones who destroyed him left permanent marks on him (Chara with the very shape of his soul, and Nightmare with the black sludge he can never wash away flowing just below the surface). Imagine Color having to gently but firmly refuse to leave a mark of his own. Because that's not gonna make anything better, not really, it's only gonna hurt Killer further. But Killer insists that he needs it, he needs at least one mark that is from something good- from someone good.

Just, hhhhhhhhhhh, the possibilities for angst with this are so many

I love that headcanon, and the thought of that is kinda sad.

It reminds me of this little comic I came across like a year or two ago where Killer carved Color’s name into his wrist. It was for different reasons, i believe it was because Killer couldn’t think of another way to show Color that he loved him other than to leave something of Color on him permanently and that way he’d never forget him.

I wonder what kind of marking(s) Killer would be looking for here, what he’d be willing to settle for, how desperate would he get and how far would he be willing to go to get what he wants from Color.

Does it need to be something permanent, something small and easily hidden or something big enough to notice? Can it be temporary but frequent, like bite or scratch marks? Would he try to get color to fight and bruise him up. Would he find a way to leave color’s mark on him himself. Would something like a collar from Color or with something that links back to Color work, if it’s not exactly what he wants.

I’d imagine the thought of being marked again, even if by Color, would cause some major conflict between his stages—his dissociative parts, causing a lot of confusion and disturbance.

The body may have been conditioned to enjoy pain and torture, especially in Stage 2, but doesn’t mean Killer wants it or even can mentally or emotionally handle it in other Stages.

If Color marks him in a permanent painful way, somewhere deep down it’d register as a betrayal to Killer—and if Color doesn’t do something, there’s a risk of feeling misunderstood and maybe even rejected—leading to distancing if Color doesn’t approach the subject carefully.

Color is in a very delicate situation, and he has to make a choice or a compromise if he’s willing, but he also has to be prepared for any consequences or pushback that would come from refusing—which he is of course allowed to do.

I can see him being willing to find a safer alternative or compromise, and Killer is going to have to accept that one way or another—no matter how may push at the lines, keep trying to convince Color. And even if he may come very close to straight up begging—trying to convince Color that it’d be good, he can take it, it’s just once, he trusts him, yada yada.

Cause at the end of the day, Color can tell this request is coming from a place of fear and self dehumanization, a need for security and reassurance that Color is willing to give him in safer ways, not a genuine want.

{ @stellocchia }

[pruneunfair]

Rating FL's part 3

Shuri

12/10: I just started reading A step mothers marchen (and it's probably gonna take a while to finish it since Bato doesn't have a full English translation) but from the few chapters I read I agreed with fans of the book that Shuri is without a doubt one of the best FL's. There's actual development between her and the step-children and she succeeds at being relatable without making her too overpowered.

Athanasia

7/10: Okay while I don't really care too much about WMMAP, I still think that for one of the first most popular otome isekais Athy was a pretty good protagonist and most of my complaints about her are mostly just ant hills. I don't have much to say on Athy other then she's a good start for OI protagonists but could be a little better.

Aisha

9/10: Is she generic? Yes, does that make her a bad protagonist? No. I don't understand what people mean when they say Marianne overshadows her unless they're talking about the fandom specifically because as someone who also really loves Marianne, she barely shows up on screen so to say that she overshadows Aisha just because Aisha is a typical sweet saintess heroine is stupid. Sometimes ITLA can be a little on the nose with how nice she is but I still find Aisha pretty well made.

Sienna

9/10: Okay I officially love manhwa where the maid is the protagonist instead of a noblewoman and as short as the manhwa she's from is, I still think she's a sweetheart. My only complaint is that the story keeps randomly inserting sad backstory memories so you feel bad for her, like one minute she'll be doing something ordinary and then next she's basically just like "This reminds me of when my step-mom hit me with jumper cables after I spilled one drop of tea." And then it goes back to the present within one panel.

Hae Soo

6.5/10: I'm sorry but people meat ride her WAY too much. She's not a terrible FL but there is so much better and she's really not all that because you can kinda tell by the way that she's the only female character thats likable and with that bodytype that she's just a self insert character.

Ruby

8/10: For once we have a piece that actually looks into the typical white lotuses point of view, Like Helena except way darker when it comes to backstories. I like that Ruby is shown to be more emotional cause I never liked how a lot of manhwa imply that emotions=crybaby FL, it all depends on how it's handled and I think thr author was very respectful when it came to her abuse and ED. However like Sienna there are times when the author is trying too hard and ends up forgetting certain parts of Ruby's trauma. For example they mentioned early in the chapters that Ruby's beloved older sister had died but it's barely mentioned in the future on how it affected her, so it ends up feeling like it was just a way to feel bad for her even more.

Aria

6/10: so on one hand I'm really glad that Aria is actually evil instead of the comic just saying " Oh no! She's not evil! She's too nice for that" because if villainess is gonna be in the title then she should keep some of her villainous traits, but I really don't know if I should see her as super smart if all her enemies are too stupid to combat her, it makes Aria look really stupid when she got killed in the first timeline if they're so bad at crimes.

Eris

10/10, Love my girl Eris! Kill the villainess was great for a lot of things, a knight for the ML instead of the prince, the ogfl not being a white lotus out to ruin Eris's life, and morally corrupt villains that felt like obstacles, but what they did the best was the FL because Eris actually retains her goal on going back to her world instead of shrugging it off and going to sleep because you know most people would be freaking out if they woke up as a historical woman in a time period where women had no rights and it was easy to die after getting sick once.

Roxana

9.5/10: She's overrated but that doesn't make a character bad by default. When I finally read Roxana after seeing the hype I could understand why they loved Roxana so much. Now as much as I don't like evil protagonists who don't suffer consequences, the story makes up for it by being self aware that the Agriche family are a bunch of lunatics with the exception of Roxanas mom and her late brother. Being chaotic is simply part of the plot so I don't think it's fair for me to fault it. That being said as much as I loved her I do think that her takeover during the end chapters shouldn't have been done and done so easily and quickly.

Verta

7/10: similar to Roxana, Depths of malice is self aware that Verta is a terrible person even though she has a tragic backstory, it's only an explanation for why she's like this not an excuse. If you know me, you know I love the white lotus women so seeing one as a protagonist was something extraordinary since I thought everyone but me and a select few hated two faced women. She only really earns a 7 because as good as she is, there are better ones.

[gigigle]

I really hate how ursa is done in the comics idk

Like I'm done with the arranged marriage and her and ikem but I hate the other stuff.

1. Her and azula

I kinda wish they made her and azulas relationship more complex and nuanced instead of it being that ursa loved her all along and never favored zuko

Because I just think that's a little lazy. I feel like if ursa had favored zuko it would've made sense like if we keep the ikem part of all of it then I think it would be interesting that ursa favored zuko because he reminded her of her past and ikem. Also that with zuko she could at least pretend he wasn't ozais.

But with azula she couldn't pretend at all. And then coupled that with the fact that azula had a spark in her eyes that zuko didn't and she saw how ozai reacted to that and how he treated zuko that she would feel like she would need to protect him even more. I think it would be an interesting thing if zuko reminded her of her old life while azula reminded her of her present life.

And that would cause a rift between them. And then we would have azula acting out for her mothers attention and acting more and more similar to ozai which would just further increase the rift. Because ursa would struggle to separate her daughter from her abuser like she can with zuko. Especially since azula would also spend most of her time learning from ozai and listening to him.

Im also not saying she would a horrible mother either. Because I think even with this scenario that she is still nuanced because she got forced into a situation she would have never chosen and is just trying to get through it day by day. I think it would be that like ursa, azula was just a casualty of azulon and especially of ozai. Because had ozai not been there I think she would have been a much better mother.

Like idk I just feel like with how the comics wrote ursa and ozais relationship this would make even more sense than her being just a slightly flawed mother but she was trying her best. Idk I'm not very articulate.

2. The forgetting thing

It sucks. I hate it so much actually. It's just so bad, like I feel like the writer couldn't think of anyway to make it make sense that ursa would never go back to her kids but tbh I can think of some ways.

Like ursa is definitely terrified of ozai and he knows where she went and she would still go back to her hometown.

So maybe ozai knows this and every now and then he sends soldiers around there to just do a bit of patrol maybe even have them raid her parents house as a way of telling ursa that if she does something her parents and ikem are gonna be the price. Which I think would work.

Also I think with azula and zuko that she just kept telling herself that zuko had Iroh and that azula was ozais favorite. She probably just repeated those constantly like how zuko does with azula always lies. And soon after like a year she believed it.

Also I think she wouldn't get any information on them because ozai would make it harder and like we see in canon not that many know of or recognize azula and zuko. Like in the beach episode kids who seem to have noble parents don't even know about them so I think it would make a lot of sense that the royal family is way way way more private esp during ozais reign. Because yk ozai killed his father,stole his brothers birthright, and In ozais opinion had a failure of a first born. And maybe ursa was also too terrified of what shed find out or just to leave hir'a/her hometown.

Also part of me thinks it was lazy writing so that they wouldn't have to have ursa have difficult conversations about why she never went looking for them or just a conversation with azula because we never actually get a real ursa and azula convo.

3. Kiyi

I hate her. Like she just feels like such a a replacement and lazy writing. Like they wanted zuko to have a healthy brother sister dynamic with someone and they didn't know how,didn't think of, or just didn't want to write that with pre established characters, they decided to make a character that was everything azula wasn't and was the perfect little sister and daughter.

Like I think she could be fun but I also think she was just so that zuko could have that dynamic without having to put in the work of writing azula a semi redemption arc or smth.

But also I think maybe they could've given zuko that brother sister dynamic with katara or toph. Like we see zuko jealous of sokka and katara and maybe we get stuff we're zuko and katara will act like sibling or like the relationship he always wanted with azula but then gets reminded that he can't have that.

Also It feels like a way to also give ursa the perfect daughter but I do think rewritten she could work. I think she's a fun concept.

End

Tbh I just wanted to rant because I feel like so much was done that was just kinda boring and lazy.

[cokoweee]

Heavens to Betsy I’ve been meaning to go on this rant forever but I keep forgetting for some reason

Quick disclaimer- I’m not analyzing your comic at all, I just notice little accuracies that make me happy.

~

Ok coming from a psychology major student, your description of PTSD and mental health issues is actually pretty dang good. Idk if it was intentionally researched or not but there’s like a ton of stuff that’s consistent with real life trauma and it’s quite frankly impressive

Again not sure if this was intentional or not but the thing on his back reminds me so much of old school electroshock therapy which I adore bc

A: it causes confusion and memory loss which you’ve shown and

B: kinda implies that maybe he did his own research when deciding how to deal with everything or

C: again is incredibly accurate in the fact that most trauma patients continuously seek pain out, and in turn report feelings of extreme boredom and numbness when not actively experiencing pain or reliving trauma. In his case going borderline catatonic when he’s not freaking out.

On the topic of “freaking out” a lack or decrease in serotonin leads to a more reactive and intense episodes in PTSD. Or, because the little guy is like mega depressed coz of the whole situation, he gets way more intense and violent episodes that someone who was on like Prozac. And would tend to be more on edge and sensitive to triggers.

Then there’s his family. For some background, there’s a part of your brain called the amygdala. It typically works to control basic emotions, but responds very well to fear. In traumatic experiences, it pairs with the hippocampus (the memory center of the brain) to store vivid and occasionally sensory memories.

When a memory trigger is provoked and brought back into consciousness, it actually changes slightly depending on the context of which it recalled. Those memories are changed to fit how we make sense of them. So if he feels guilty for his brothers death, then his memories will reflect it whether or not it’s actually true.

Essentially, him having his brothers showing up all the time (looking the way they do) is really bad for him on multiple levels, and not just because they’re triggering visually. They’re like actually impeding his ability to recover by keeping him in an aggressive form of already intense fight or flight that comes from trauma.

On a happier note, one of the best ways to improve is to establish and nurture caring relationships. Awww

Aight ima stop here so I don’t bore you to death with random psych facts, but like kudos to you my dude because I could go on forever about some of the stuff in there

Uh yeah

-writing anon 🤡

WRITING ANON? SLAPPING OUT ANALYSISSISIS AND SHIT?

Bein real I dont do much research on shit even tho I should. I just go off what I’ve seen/ learned throughout the years. It’s always good to hear I’m doin ahit right tho!

Lowkey right with the shock tho. Or high key lol. Seeking pain there’s other ways people do it but mmm somehow this seemed the tamest way. Oh writing anon u silly lil saltine cracker

[ghoultrifle]

Phantom is trying to do maths because he wants to be the smartest ghoul like Aether. Swiss comes over and asks what he’s doing. Phantom starts explaining subspace (maths version), to which Swiss responds they should explore the good kind of subspace instead

Jimothy once again pulling through as my favourite maths nerd, everyone else please enjoy learning about subspaces <3 This was so much fun to write but i am incredibly impatient so this has not been proofread and will not be my best work, sorry not sorry! I kinda forgot about the whole subspace thing halfway through but I do not have the energy to go back soooo

Swiss is trans because I said so! cunt, clit, dick, cock used.

Phantom was laying on his bed, stomach on the mattress as he kicked his legs in the air, twirling an eraser pensively in his hands. His mouth was occupied with the tip of his pencil, gnawing on the bitter wood, his free hand supporting the weight of his chin. Shoulder-length locks kept falling, clouding his vision. He didn’t care, he was fed up of learning about subspaces.

“Why do I care if U is a subspace of V? And why do I need to keep proving it?” He pouted, only himself to hear the complaints in the now dim light of his room, the midday sun now sinking below the horizon.

Phantom was rubbing out the workings for the latest attempt at the question, he kept making silly mistakes: misreading the question or forgetting how to do simple maths.

“Stupid fucking ghoul, you’ll never be as smart as Aether, just face it!” The quintessence ghoul cried out to the void. But the void replied…

The young ghoul’s door opened, it was Swiss. “What’s wrong, Baby Bat?” He questioned, frowning at Phantom.

“Can’t do this fucking work. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, something else goes wrong! What’s wrong with me, Swiss?”

“Oh hey, it’s alright, Bug. Nothing’s wrong with you. Looks like you’ve been here all day, you’re probably just in your own head.” Swiss patted Phantom on the back, alternating between pressure and smooth strokes. “What’re you trying to do anyway? Are chores not enough for you?”

“‘m learning about subspaces!” Phantom replied, a passion reignited in his voice.

“Learning about what?!” If Swiss had a drink he would have comically spat it out all over the ghoul next to him.

“Yeah, I enrolled in an online maths course ‘cause I wanted to be smart like Aether and Omega. This week’s work is all about subspaces. A subspace is a subset of a vector space that is itself a vector space but also satisfies the three subspace criteria.” Phantom ranted. Swiss was too entranced in the energy of the younger ghoul to stop him.

“The first criterion is that the subset can’t be empty, the second cri –” The multi ghoul was pulled out of his trance as a fiendish idea swirled around his mind, hands roughly grabbing Phantom’s cheeks as he kissed him hard - anything to shut the other ghoul up.

Swiss pulled away, taking in Phantom’s look of awe, “Sorry Tommy, maths is a sore spot for me, can’t listen to it.” He apologised.

“How about we explore the good kind of subspace instead, hmm?” The older ghoul asked, gently coaxing Phantom to sit up as he swiped the ghoul’s hard work off the bed, landing crumpled on the floor. That was a problem for future them.

“Oh okay but I really do need to finish that work,” Phantom replied, worriedly gazing at his hours of effort lying on the floor, Swiss’ calloused thumb rubbing his shoulder.

“Hmm Baby, it’s worse than I thought. You really do need to get fucked dumb,” the multi ghoul cooed. His brown eyes raked over the almost shaking ghoul beside him. Swiss would be lying if he said he didn’t have a thing for smart guys; there’s a reason he and Aether always shared a hotel room on tour. But he could also tell when someone just needed to be reminded how stupid they are, pliant under his touch and unable to form a coherent thought.

Through many a session with Aether, the multi ghoul had honed his quintessence, now at the ability of a teenage ghoul, and a horny one at that. “I’m gonna use a bit of magick, alright? Can you remember your safe actions?” Swiss asked in a loving tone, like honey lined his vocal cords, his words coating Phantom in a sickly sweet embrace.

“Mhm Sir, pickle or three leg taps if I can’t speak.”

Swiss shuddered at the honorific, seems Phantom wouldn’t need much help dropping today, his control already slipping at the mere suggestion of a scene.

“Good boy. Now let’s talk about our subspace criteria. First rule, a sub’s head must be empty.”

The older ghoul extended his fingertips to Phantom’s now-bare chest. Quintessence oozing from his digits, reaching in, shoving all the work on Phantom’s metaphorical desk onto the floor, leaving the ghoul devoid of thoughts.

“How are you feeling, my precious?” 

Phantom could only stare at him through lidded eyes, mouth agape as he attempted a nod. Swiss knew the answer to his rhetorical question, however. Phantom’s trousers were tented, the ghoul shifting where he was sat in an attempt to get some friction on his filled out cock.

Every movement was primal, a base instinct not tied down by societal rules. In any other scenario Phantom would be horrified at the blush working its way across his cheeks, unable to hide it with his leaden arms. Right now though, he isn’t even aware of his body’s reaction to the touch.

“Oh such a slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t even tell me how good you’re feeling. How hard you are in those tight little pants. Already leaking and I haven’t even told you the rest of the rules.” Swiss teased.

The quintessence ghoul’s blush only grew a deeper purple, contrasting his mottled skin. His head was vacant, half-formed thoughts fleeting by at incredible speeds, long disappeared over the horizon by the time he tried to acknowledge them.

“Second rule, a sub must be obedient,” a flustered Swiss declared, thinking on his feet now. He wanted to commit to the bit but didn’t think he’d get Phantom on board. “Do you think you can be a good boy for me?” he asked, knowing the words would get his dumb toy’s dick leaking as he cradled the smaller ghoul’s face, his hand easily reaching both ears.

As promised an almost imperceptible damp spot started to form on Phantom’s tight, dark pants, outlining the head of his cock. It was begging for release, sensitive and oh so hard. The quintessence ghoul fluttered his eyelids at the other, his way of saying Yes Daddy, I’ll be such a good boy for you.

Swiss was equally as affected, his clit rock solid while his cunt was creating a very sticky problem in Swiss’ boxers. But tonight wasn’t about him, it was about helping Phantom let go in every way possible. So he continued to let the wet patch grow as he recited the third rule.

“The third rule for a sub to be just perfect is for them to float away. Let me take care of you, bug.”

As Swiss was quoting the rule he reached down to unzip Phantom’s trousers, giving his weeping cock a few quick strokes through the red boxers, no doubt borrowed from Dewdrop. Phantom had just enough of a hold on reality to let out a choked moan as Swiss finally touched him. A small whimper came out when the multi ghoul removed his hand.

Swiss wasn’t a ghoul known for his patience, and that extended to the bedroom. It didn’t take long for him to decide that tonight Phantom would have to get off while pleasuring the multi ghoul because he’ll be damned if the new summon doesn’t have the hottest mouth. Of course the award for physically hottest mouth went to Dewdrop but Phantom’s soft, plump lips and limber tongue won the award for most pleasurable.

Swiss unbuckled his belt as he slid off his bottoms in one smooth motion, only tripping as the fabric got stuck around his ankle. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like the dazed ghoul on the bed could react in any way, still heavily under the influence of Swiss’ quintessence.

The multi ghoul stood there, dick jutting out between his folds. He always described himself as an outie, and he was proud of it. Phantom seemed even prouder, drool spilling from his lips as he watched Swiss give himself a few tugs before swiping at himself and giving it a taste.

“Like what you see, hmm?” Swiss mocked, reaching out to Phantom’s chest again to partially release him from the throes of his magick. “Well how about you show Daddy a good time then, baby bat.”

And with that Swiss was pushing down on Phantom’s ribs, forcing the younger ghoul onto his back as he straddled his midriff, trapping Phantom’s leaking cock beneath him.

“Ah Swiss, feels so mmm good.” The quintessence ghoul whined, in control of his voice once again.

“Oh, bug, toys don’t talk.” Swiss frowned, trying his best not to let his excitement show. He agonisingly inched his way up Phantom’s body, leaving a trail of slick behind him before his cunt arrived at those delicate lips. “Let’s put that mouth to good use instead, my love.”

Swiss lowered himself gently onto Phantom’s face letting the younger ghoul lick exploratively before sliding his tongue deep inside the multi ghoul. “Eat up,” he smirked.

And Phantom did. Anything to be a good boy, the promise of a reward implicit with Swiss. He could be mean but he’d never leave a lover unsatisfied. So Phantom ate Swiss out like his life depended on it. By the way his cock was kicking, leaking pre over his happy trail, it really felt like his life did depend on it.

The skilled tongue laved against Swiss’ walls, a heady mix of spit and slick coating his insides. Phantom’s tongue occasionally departing to give kitten licks to his clit before sucking the bud whole, hollowing his cheeks to show the multi ghoul just how big he was. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Unholy fuck Ant, forgot how good your tongue was.” Swiss pleaded, any attempt at keeping a stern demeanour now in the past.

Even with his mouth occupied, Phantom was far from quiet. He was attempting to set a ministry record in getting Swiss off, and he knew exactly what buttons to push. A little ah here mixed in with breathy moan there and Swiss was coming apart, quickly. The multi ghoul loved an expressive partner, his already large ego inflated any time someone moaned.

Phantom was beginning to flag, limbs still heavy under Swiss’ spell and tongue beginning to tire from its intense workout. The larger ghoul took pity on the whimpering ghoul, handing him a pillow from the top of the bed. It was encased in a grey cover and it was firm, Phantom needed a lot of neck support when asleep. 

Swiss craned his neck behind him to see he didn’t even need to tell the younger ghoul what to do with it, the pillow already shoved deep between his thighs as he spared all his extra energy into rocking into it.

“Fuck Phantom, such a good boy for me,” Swiss encouraged “humping that pillow so well. Bet you wish it was me sinking onto you, clenching around that lovely cock of yours as I use you.”

Both ghouls were getting close; Swiss at the sight of his partner desperately humping a pillow, and Phantom at the friction said pillow was providing. The case was covered in streaks of pre, getting more wet with each thrust of the quintessence ghoul’s ruddy cock, only spurring him on as the shame hit.

Phantom was a ghoul that got off primarily on shame. Something about doing these sinful acts with his packmates left him hard like nothing else. He learned all these rules during his summoning about how humans are supposed to act, it was ingrained in him by Papa. So now when he does anything outside the norm he feels that hot shame coursing through him, straight to his dick.

Phantom’s hips were canting up rapidly to the soft fabric of the pillow case, now a dark grey. He was unable to do anything but moan against Swiss’ folds, and hope the larger ghoul was as close as he was.

His skilled lips were assaulting Swiss’ cock, doing his best to give Swiss the best blowjob of his life as the multi ghoul’s slick ran down his chin. The t-dick was engorged as Phantom sucked and swirled his tongue around the growth. All it took was a well timed breath from Phantom, hot air engulfing his cunt as the smaller ghoul emptied his lungs. 

The sensation had Swiss cumming with a yell, Phantom quick to resume his efforts on his clit as Swiss rode out his orgasm.

“Satanas, bug, I should dumb you down more often, that was incredible.” Swiss praised as he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Looking down he could see the mess he made of Phantom’s face, shining, covered in his release.

Phantom was smiling back at the older ghoul, proud of his work but desperately hard and teetering on the edge. The pillow was great but he just needed more. 

“Oh were you hoping I was going to get you off?” The multi ghoul chimed, “Think again, bug. Need you to hump it like you do when you’re alone. And don’t pretend you don’t, Rain told me everything.”

His hips bucked harder at the request, humiliation setting in. “Can I move, Daddy?” he asked tentatively.

“The stage is yours, darling.” Swiss replied as he blew the ghoul a kiss, already feeling a puddle of slick forming beneath him.

The quintessence long worn off by now as the new summon manoeuvred himself onto all fours, adding the pillow to a stack between his thighs before he started thrusting his cock into the pile. Each cant left him panting and whining for more.

“Look at my little toy, getting off on a pillow like a good boy.” 

Phantom keened at the praise, spurring him on. His full body weight was on the stack of pillows now, his cock sliding easily into the creases of the fabric as his hips moved, no longer a conscious motion. He just needed to cum, soon.

It was just the wrong side of enough stimulation but he was determined to make it work, to be a good boy for Swiss.

The next time Phantom looked up, Swiss was tugging himself between his thumb and forefinger, moaning at the sight before him. That was enough to push the quintessence ghoul over the edge. He grabbed his cock harshly, no longer caring about the implicit ‘no touching’ rule that sessions with Swiss involve. As he stroked his shaft the pillow beneath him was painted a delicious white, Phantom’s head thrown back as he whined.

He knelt on the bed as he came down from his high, marvelling at the art he produced. Looking over at Swiss, he was shaking his head, a frown adorning his usually joyous face.

“Good toys don’t touch themselves.” He tutted, “Do it again.”

Phantom sighed, gripping his soft cock as he tried to coax it to life once more. The only saving grace being the whorish ghoul touching himself beside him. They were going to be here a while, Phantom definitely wouldn’t be finishing his homework tonight.

[vermillioncrown]

ands snippet: duck tolling and retrieving

as teased yesterday, the snippet on how vivienne meets tim, and how tim gets involved with the bats in this 'verse. tim accidentally noses his way into bat business and makes a mess. vivienne is the collateral and is not happy about it.

(tim is 11, jason is 13, dick is 18, bruce is early 30s and ros&vi are mid 30s)

if you guys spot cursed aughties teen fashion/styling choices -> @rozaceous and i made choices okay

===

In a rush of sudden, sobering clarity, Vivienne stands up from the table. "I need to make a call." She glares down at the preteen across the table and adds, "Don't run. You won't like it if I have to chase you down again."

Her captive audience nods, long bangs flopping comically with his vigorous motion. Wide baby blue eyes, looking at most 100 lbs sopping wet, still clutching his skateboard in a death grip—Timothy Jackson Drake would pass as a commonplace patron of Robinson Park. Innocuous. Benign. But the trouble he's caused her over the past month…

Right. That's why it was on sight for her as she was driving off for lunch break. But it's also a reminder that she doesn't often let her temper get the best of her, despite the naysayers at the office. She's curt and all business, and the type of work that's under her purview doesn't tolerate carelessness. Every action is carefully considered and executed to the best of her ability.

And this fucking teenybopper, this little skater boy, almost ruined everything.

Even so, her reaction was admittedly…rash.

"So, I might have done something rash," she says as such to Ros as soon as her girlfriend picks up the phone.

"You’re lucky I’m in between clients and you have ten minutes until I’m at Marius’s place.” Despite the snappy comment, Ros isn’t mad. Little chuckles come out naturally with her exhales as she walks. “Which closet do we need to clear out now? Can you fit everything into the car?”

“What? I’m not keeping a child in a closet!”

“—what?”

“—huh?”

Vivienne stops. Finds herself at a loss for words with the complete overshoot of the conversation’s trajectory.

“Go on—you have me piqued. Why do you have to put a child in a closet?” She pauses for dramatic effect, letting Vivienne stew. “Which, by the way, is not where we put children.”

“Okay, this phone call was…kinda rash, then,” Vivienne admits.

“Well, you’ve got me now, no take backs.”

“Okay, fine—I saw him.”

“Him?”

“The Termite.”

“…no. Nooooo, Vi, don’t—he—he’s still whole and healthy, yes?!”

“I’m already in a fucking metric ton of hot flaming garbage, I’m not adding homicide into the mess!” Vivienne hisses. She glances back through the crack of the door, view to the table clear where Drake—the Termite of her life, as they’ve been calling him for the last three weeks of this debacle—is still sitting like someone glued him to his seat. “…it could be aggravated assault if his parents catch wind.”

“Vi, I was joking, please tell me you’re joking.”

“He’s fine. Just rumpled from some. Um. Manhandling.”

Ros doesn’t say anything for a minute. But Vivienne knows her well enough to know that she knows Vivienne well enough to know exactly what happened.

Weeks of internal investigation, legal red tape, forced paid leave, all devices checked and wiped…it all forms the toxic legal mire that’s export control and proprietary information being so blatantly compromised. Important projects due for a midterm review halted. Possible lawsuits if collaboration was involved with certain data. The budget—

Forget the corporate throat-slitting some of the other D-Suites and ladder climbers are trying to leverage with this incident—annoying but ultimately, being the equivalent of Lucius’s favored workplace poodle means he’ll swat away all detractors. She won’t lose her position and it’s not like she cares to climb any higher.

But the indignity of the damage done from the harebrained plot of a fucking kid, to her—

That he targeted her and her device for some incomprehensible reason and fucking managed—

It’s like someone knocking on her front door, her opening to answer it in good faith, and they rush in to pee on the carpet before anyone would have the wherewithal to stop them.

What is anyone supposed to do in that situation? How is someone supposed to feel after that?!

She saw him ditching class at the skate park, like he didn’t have a single worry in his little puffball bobblehead brain, and admittedly lost her shit. He’s lucky she only scruffed him—she could have strung him up by his oversized crew neck sweater sleeves and tied him into a knapsack instead.

…a fucking emo kid skater boy, with the quintessential TWLOHA crew neck, managed to hack into her fucking laptop. The audacity.

“…That’s aggravated assault, yes.” Ros’s voice breaks through the current wave of anger.

Vivienne lets out a frustrated whine in response. They both let the situation sink in for a moment as they consider their next moves. It takes more than a minute but the mutual silence is productive.

“Well, he must be terrified out of his goddamn mind right now,” Ros brings the conversation back, tone forcibly casual.

“You’d immediately fall for his ‘I’m baby’ wet eyes if you were here,” Vivienne says. The quipping grounds her, brings her back to focused assessment.

Ros laughs and it makes her feel better immediately. “Considering Kevin fears for his immortal toad-shaped soul every time you breathe around him and you actually like him, the Termite might count himself lucky to escape with life and limb intact.”

Huh. That…might be the play here.

“Of course, just a talking-to, and then I’ll send him on his way,” Vivienne promises. “Being that he nearly got away with what he did, I don’t think he understands that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. It’s only fair that someone tells him.”

“Yeah, it could be worse next time—skipping grades straight to Yale,” Ros agrees.

“All Yale, no Yob.” Vivienne’s chest feels lighter. It’ll be fine. “Okay, thanks for picking up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Won’t be too late. Oh, and I’m sending the cavalry with the expensive lawyers your way.”

“Oh Jesus, no—”

“—bye!” And Ros hangs up.

Vivienne looks at her phone. She has…twenty minutes to an hour to impart the fear of god and federal-level criminal repercussions without outwardly threatening a twelve-year-old. In a public, if secluded, restaurant.

At least she asked for private seating?

Whatever, she’s worked with less. Vivienne rolls her neck, hears the satisfying crack, breathes in deep, and puts her Workplace Smile on before making her way back to where she’s left the Termite.

===

“You vibrating the car isn’t going to make us go faster,” Dick calls out peevishly. “Are you auditioning for the Flash?”

“Shut up, Dickiebird. I’m worried about Aunt Vi,” Jason snaps back. He does stop shaking his leg, though.

Dick’s worried, too, which is why he’s trying to concentrate on the road—traffic picks up earlier on Fridays, and he doesn’t need to add a car accident on top of extracting Aunt Vi from a possible lawsuit, on top of the information security compromise she’s currently dealing with. Jason’s obnoxious frosted tips keep distracting him in the periphery every time he turns his head, looking out the windows like he can mentally will the car to teleport.

Why the hell did Aunt Vi egg Bruce on to let Jason do that to himself? And why the hell did Aunt Ros not stop either of them?

…if Aunt Vi goes to jail for murdering a kid, justified anger or not, none of these questions will be answered, and though Aunt Ros is a deft hand with Bruce she’s not the one that wrangles the Batman.

Jokes aside, he’s not as worried as Jason because Aunt Vi’s not the type to get violent, even if her demeanor is like a psychic aura that inflicts fear based on proximity. It’s not like she beats people up, even at her workplace where her subordinates scuttle like little bugs around her. She doesn’t even swat at Bruce when he’s pissing her off, despite having the stones to jab her finger into his chest plate as she reams him out for fucking up the Batmobile’s suspensions again.

But she’s usually in control or a position of power. She’s never been made to lose her cool; at least, not while Dick’s been around to see or hear about it. This is the first time she’s been brought this low—even when Bruce was bleeding out all over her that night, Aunt Ros performing first aid on panicked autopilot, Aunt Vi was coolly deciding their next move to get Bruce to safety unnoticed. She had no qualms plucking the control fob for the Batmobile from him and told him to, “Sit the hell down, boy—that car’s more mine than His Dark Grace’s, with the amount of man-hours I’ve put in.”

(And he did sit the hell down at that tone.)

Little Timothy Drake did a number on her; Dick can’t help but feel guilty for not nipping it properly in the bud when they first met. He’s still not sure what to make of the kid. It’d be easy to write him off as an obsessed thrill-seeker, one of those nuts on the conspiracy boards he checks every so often…but what he did goes beyond the risk and effort for those types. From Aunt Vi’s recounting and Bruce’s investigation, it’s most likely that Timothy swapped her USB dongle for a fake one—a ducky—when he was visiting Drake Industries on the day she was meeting with the Drakes themselves. From that, he brute-forced connected to her laptop and was able to hold her device hostage unless she heard him out.

Aunt Vi’s never the type to let herself get pressed. She immediately shut it all down and turned her everything over to WayneTech’s IT department, which then got their internal affairs department involved. If only that was the end of that—she explained, with forced patience to Jason’s naive questioning, that she might also be in trouble with federal regulations because of the type of projects she has her hands in and what data might be compromised from the incident. And then because she’s private sector, IP laws and proprietary rights might be involved as well. So, the legal department was now involved as well as law enforcement.

“But you didn’t give the hacker anything?!” Jason was indignant on her behalf.

“Doesn’t matter. Compromised is compromised. I’d be facing federal prison if I didn’t report it and something got traced back to me.” She looked exhausted, despite being two weeks in on her forced paid leave while Lucius Fox put out fires on her behalf. “This is serious shit, Jason. Can’t just yell or punch it away.”

It took a few days for Bruce and Dick, off the books, to establish with high confidence—based on scant security footage, careful questioning, and timetable corroborations—that a kid literally walked into the meeting room of his parents’ company, plugged something in, and walked right out. The laptop has already been scrapped by IT so they couldn’t trace the connection to confirm. But there was enough circumstantial evidence, along with hints that Timothy knew their identities when they met, that this was some desperate attempt to get into contact with Gotham’s nocturnal denizens.

He sure has what he wanted, now. Bruce looked into everything—him, his parents, their dealings, contacts, family friends, family history, his nannies, hired help. Janet and Jack Drake, with Drake Industries in a bit of hot water, started arranging discreet shipping services for certain families with points of contact in Gotham. Likely, something about that situation spooked the kid into asking for help in all the wrong ways.

Thing is—Aunt Vi’s collateral. There are a few things she’ll admit to hating with a passion: unnecessary collateral (with that, wastefulness), ungratefulness, and cockroaches dead or alive. What she’ll never admit to hating: Dick’s hair (he’s working on it, it just needs a little time), being caught off-guard, and needing to ask for help. Here, she’s their collateral, caught off-guard in the worst way, she needs their help, and this could have all been avoided if they took a direct approach earlier. Aunt Vi doesn’t do upset well, so she gets angry. And she doesn’t like getting angry, so it makes her angrier.

She doesn’t have an outlet right now. All she has had to do for two weeks was to sit with her anger and think. She’s really good at thinking hard, and even better at acting decisively when she’s done.

Oh jeez…last Bruce heard from Aunt Ros, the kid’s still alive. Dick prays it stays that way.

===

They pull into the valet parking lot of the restaurant given by the address. Both him and Jason give it a once over, make eye contact, and come to the same conclusion: it’s too nice of a place for Aunt Vi to lose her shit in. Homicide is looking less likely with each passing minute. As for Timothy’s mental state—jury’s still out on that one.

It takes a bit of name-dropping to get the maître d' to lead them to the private dining parlor where Aunt Vi and her victim are seated. The main dining room isn’t too busy at the moment and none of the patrons look perturbed. That means no yelling or hysterics thus far. When they reach the parlor and the maître d' smartly dismisses himself to get more waitstaff, Dick can finally see the situation. Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Early dismissal today?” Aunt Vi dabs the corners of her mouth with the serviette before facing them. Yikes—she has that smile on. “You two must be hungry, then. Come sit; keep Little Timothy company.”

Dick doesn’t know a single kid over the age of seven that would tolerate being called ‘Little’ the way Aunt Vi does. Contrary to that, Luke’s his age and bitches non-stop about Aunt Vi condescending him, yet he’s the first to ask “how high?” if she orders everyone to jump (he also takes everything she says as gospel, but that’s neither here nor there). In the same way, Timothy looks like a bug subjected to the sun under a magnifying glass, writhing and dying under her considering gaze. Not that he’s actually dying at the table—it’s just the terrified misery on his face, and the way he squirms without showing signs of wanting to bolt. It’s like he can’t bring himself to even think of fleeing.

Aunt Vi, on the other hand, is back to her regular polish and cool affect. Lipstick without a single smudge, hair pinned, business wear tailored to the millimeter. She looks untouchable and far from the wanness of just a few days ago. That smile, in particular, means nothing good for the recipient. It’s not a happy smile; in fact, it’s not a smile at all—the expression is the socially acceptable version of a predator baring their fangs before going for the throat.

Nonetheless, he and Jason immediately take their seats. It should seem like the two of them are flanking Timothy on Aunt Vi’s behalf, but it feels more like ‘her half of the table’ and ‘their half of the table.’ Dick catches her once-over of both him and Jason, the micro-expressions of judgment before flattening, and then she reaches over to baby Jason.

“You’ll like this,” she says like it’s a foregone conclusion, neatly cutting up a portion of the fish on her plate and placing it on Jason’s. “If not, there’s another dish that’ll sit well with you until dinner.”

“I’m not being starved,” Jason protests, but he immediately picks up his fork and eats what she puts on his plate.

“And you”—Dick freezes when she turns to him—”eat a fruit and get some sunlight. Did you find your true calling as a ninja turtle up in New York?” She says ‘New York’ with the typical Gothamite sneer that’s now noticeable after being back in town.

Her comment, however, makes his face immediately heat up out of his control. But he still tries to do what he came here for; if it wasn't for Bruce's literal cracked ribs, Dick wouldn't bother being 'delegated'. “Uh, Aunt Vi, B sent us to help you out?” The way his voice cracks at the end makes him want to wince.

Jason snickers and Dick kicks him from across the table.

“No need. It’s Little Timothy that needs your help, rather,” she says, turning her gaze onto the kid in question. He looks at them with the comically bug-eyed expression that combines the remnant of fear, incredulity, and quiet awe. “If you’ll tell them what you told me?” She gives him an expectant look.

Timothy rattles off on command. Thankfully, they’ve been looking into the Drakes recently, otherwise the deluge of information that spills out of him would be a mess to keep up with. Most of what he says has been covered by their investigation, some bits add more context, and it turns out the Drakes’ lives are in more danger than their outside perspective showed.

And damn, does this kid get around.

“Very good,” Aunt Vi stops him. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” she tells Dick—who feels himself automatically straightening his posture—and then looks down at her watch. “Lunch ran later than I wanted. Make sure Little Timothy gets home. He could do with more supervision.” She gets up from the table and pushes in her chair, grabbing her handbag from the console table by the parlor door. “Feel free to order more if you’re hungry, it’s on my tab. And Little Timothy”—the kid snaps up at the address—”remember to tell your parents.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am!”

The three of them wait until the clacking of her heels disappear once far enough into the main dining space, and both Dick and Jason turn towards Timothy. He shrinks back at the sudden attention.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurts out, looking miserable and contrite. “Ms. Yang said I caused a lot of trouble that could have made things worse for me, and I really didn’t mean to—”

“—kid, it’s fine—”

“—I just needed help,” he ends his verbal vomit on that browbeaten note.

Dick and Jason give each other discreet looks.

“We know, we’re gonna help,” Jason says. “It’s taken a bit of time, but we have a plan, okay?” He then peruses the spread on their table. “We should get dessert.”

“I’m down,” Dick says with a shrug. “And then let’s get you home, Timothy?”

“…Tim,” he mumbles.

“Tim—pick whatever dessert you want, and I’ll take you home, alright?” Dick coaxes the kid. “Don’t want your parents to worry.”

Jason perks up. “Right…wait, what did Aunt Vi want with your parents?” He gives Dick a quick look. “Thought she just told us to ‘handle it.’”

The distress that was slowly ebbing away with Aunt Vi’s departure suddenly wells up again on Tim’s face. He looks completely beside himself.

“She, uh, some—something about an internship? At WanyeTech.” Tim doesn’t look like he knows enough details to explain. “Which is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know what—” he clams up again. It’s apparent he has no idea what to make of anything and looks to be giving himself a huge headache with trying to detangle his thoughts. “Aren’t I in a huge boatload of trouble? I already messed up with the laptop, what if I mess up on this internship?” His hands grab at his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say no if I’m being offered an internship like that?”

“Sixth graders don’t get offered internships,” Dick says slowly. “And why do you even know about them?”

“My parents talk about them a lot,” Tim explains, tone still miserable and panicked. “And I know—so maybe I’m still in trouble and Ms. Yang is going to set me up to get in trouble because she already knows—”

Jason’s expression says it all: ‘Forget I asked.’

Dick agrees. Whatever Aunt Vi did to lecture poor Tim Drake—she now lives as a rent-free boogeyman in his mind. Come what may, that’s not his business anymore. As long as Tim’ll make it life and limb intact, that’s all Dick is able to handle.

===

end summary:

tldr vivienne points out exactly the shitload of trouble tim's hacking could have gotten him into, especially because he got caught. she's also dissecting his whole plan and ripping it (and his fragile preteen ego) to shreds the entire time.

bc tim actually is a smart freak and vivienne's been around enough of these smart freaks to know you can't ignore them, the 'internship' is more like summer camp + keeping tim out of trouble + her fixating on his thought processes and going "no. wrong. do better."

the hacking investigation does go away, was hairy for a bit

he ends up following her around like a little duck, coupled with the ducky and his last name, ros nicknames him 'duckie', he doesn't end up caping in this 'verse. runs comms and ops, tho

dick to luke fox: lol aunt vi's replaced you

dick, later: i did not mean to make a 17yo start beefing with an 11yo

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Saw your Molly art & that lil comic. Think Angel got Molly killed or something!?

Yeah! I def feel like whatever happened to Molly and how she died, was cause of Angel or at the very least, he thinks it was. Someone in anon came up with this dark cool theory. With my Angel, so far I’m going on the idea that Molly etheir got killed during some kinda crossfire or targeted because of something Angel did or even died protecting him💔.

TW Emotional abuse/manipulation, Val.

For that scene with Val and Angel in ep 4, reminding Angel of how he owns him and what he can do, I imagine for a scenario/rewrite for something like Masquerade(there’s a lot I’d change around if I was to do anything like that ep) with it instead more focused on getting a bit into Angel’s human past, what landed him into Hell and how it not only factors into how he is now but how it’s caused (also mainly by Val’s manipulation) him to think he deserves the current trauma and abuse he goes through now with Val. I imagine my Charlie def wants to get into his and everyone else’s pasts as the whole programs about redeeming yourself for past sins, what they DID, so she’d need to know at some point just what they actually did to land up in eternal damnation to begin with to know if they’re truly redeeming & also if they’re healing from who they used to be and been through. She understood this would be one of the harder steps of the progress for most sinners but figure overtime with the current development progress, they’d eventually be ready to open up about their pasts…Problem is Val does NOT want her or anyone else involved in Angels General business, let alone his PAST BUSINESS, for many reasons and netheir does Angel, Val less than gently, reminding him of some reasons, when he ever even slightly considers if he should…

With the scene of Val reminding Angel of his power, instead it’d be Val reminding Angel of some of the many bad things he did alive(murder, getting other people addicted to drugs, profiting off their suffering, with Molly being the final straw to break him).💔 How would he know? I imagine Angel at some point in their time together def emotionally cracked and confided to him about….something he’d come to really regret💔💔💔

Val-In case u forgot, they grew close to Angel Dust, WHAT I MADE YOU! Do u seriously believe Charlie and the rest of those Hazbins will love the REAL YOU, Anthony Ragno?!

Angel-…

Val-That’s what I thought. Try not to forget that again…I don’t want to keep having this talk.

Angel-Me netheir💔

What do u think? How would u get into Angels past or other emotional turmoil? I’d love to know💖 Here’s where that comic came from.

[katsukiqx]

Hear me out.. little head cannon on McQueens childhood.

His parents are dead. He was 3.

He was suppose to be taken in by a relative, but they weren’t very good so he was put up for adoption. After getting adopted, a year later after being put into the system, he lived on a farm with them till he was about 8 with an adoptive older brother who was 4 years older. He basically copied him and learned everything from him. That’s how he got into Moto-Cross and learned to love it. At school, he hung with his older brother’s friends and the little shit never remembered any of their names and gave them nicknames like an idiot because none of his friends liked him very much because he was too hyper.

McQueen is an Aussie. He just lost the accent because his adoptive family moved to America because they sold drugs and was apart of this while crime thing and tried to get away so they wouldn’t get caught when he was 8 before he was permanently stuck in America since his adoptive Dad was American.

People found out about the illegal crap and he was taken from them and put into the system. He was put into foster home after foster home, moving every month or two because no one wanted to deal with him. He never listened, always got hurt, was way too hyper for them and never wanted to do anything that didn’t sound fun. He’d run off to who knows where and come back with a bloody knee and ten bruises and he’d forget how it even happened.

Hes clumsy. Hurts himself all the time at home. Always gets questioned if he was getting abused by some people at school or bullied and he’d just shrug and say he woke up with them. Like, he would wake up with a bruise the size of his fist and sit there rethinking what happened the day before and still find nothing on how he got it.

He did home schooling and finished early because I said so. When you’re moving around that much, you ain’t going to a new school all the time. He went into college at 14 and hated it because he wasn’t he was a lot younger than everyone and wasn’t the social type, then found a girlfriend that went to a school nearby and then she found out he went to college and thought he was an older guy and some perv so he lost her, ‘cause we already know his ego on the first movie was because some girl dumped him in college. He eventually dropped out.

He lied about his age to start racing. He was 15 and lied on everything just to start racing, to get away. He didn’t have friends and no family. Wasn’t till after the 2006 Piston Cup did anyone realise he wasn’t a 19 year old who just looked younger and was 15. Got suspended for a year, but continued to train at Radiator Springs.

When he was 18, he decided to move out of radiator into more of the bush side. He loved adventures as a kid and the wetlands and rain forests because it reminded him of home, so he got a home built just a bit out of town from Radiator Springs.

He was a total Marvel fan as a kid and had so many comics and was so happy when they finally started making actual movies. His favourite characters are Peter and Bucky, while his all time hero is forever gonna be Iron Man.

Totally has a shelf full of dinosaur LEGOs and will brag about them and talk nonstop about dinosaurs. His favourite franchise will forever be JP/JW even though he knows it isn’t accurate and even did a speech about dinosaurs when he was 7 at school. His friends think he’s autistic.

He’s bisexual, but not part of the lgbtq+ community because he just thinks there’s no need and just lives his life. It’s who he is and doesn’t think it’s needed. He doesn’t talk about it though and most people are quite shocked when he says he is when it’s brought up.

He sees Doc as the father he lost so many times bin life and was devastated when he lost him. He didn’t come out of his room for weeks.

He absolutely goes insane when things aren’t perfect and acts like he has OCD when keeping things clean and tidy, but the second it gets messed up by someone, he gives up and won’t clean up or fix it for a week because he’s too tired. He likes to organise things and schedule, but gets forgetful.

Totally bleached his hair blonde for a new identity when he started racing, until he used Docs colours in 2017, did he decide to take it out. He’s a natural brunette and people joke that he and Charles Leclerc are the same person.

Taught himself how to cook and is good at it, but messed up often because he’s forgetful and some times gets distracted. Always when hes alone that he nails it perfectly. It was the living by himself and having to eat take out all the time that he decided to learn to cook. He already knew how to make a few meals from his adopted family as a kid, but that was years ago and he couldn’t remember shit.

Listens to Lady Gaga, Lana Del Ray, Cold Play and Pitbull all the time, in the car, playing video games, training, ect. He’s memorised so many tracks he trains on that he won’t even pay attention while on them and just listen to music. He only wears headphones since he finds earbuds uncomfortable and annoying, refuses to get any.

He plays video games in his free time, specifically horror games, specifically phasmophobia. He’s that one friend in the duo who constantly play horror games who will say the demon is hot or try to kiss it because he’s a weirdo.

Once, McQueen got a cone stuck on his head and just walked around the stadium looking for Doc to help get it off. He gave up at one point and just sat around with it on his head till Doc found him.

Has such a random playlist on Spotify where he’ll be listening to Custer and suddenly the song changes to Bon Appetite.

He just has a random cardboard cut out of Sebastian Stan that he didn’t even realise was Sebastian Stan till after he stole as a joke from a random premier he accidentally snuck into and so now Sebastian Stan just lives in his room.

Got chased by a chicken once for waving around a chicken leg he had from a roast chicken and nearly lost an eye.

[1andxrea1tge1bisexual1here1]

🌸🐾 Hey everyone! I have some super exciting news from the twisted and altered universe of Courage the Cowardly Dog! Guess what? The villains have decided to take a year off from causing mischief! 🎉 But that's not all. Allow me to introduce you to a new character, Andrea Kaimai, a unique and mysterious addition to this bizarre universe. Let's dive in, shall we? 🌙✨

1️⃣ First things first, let's meet Andrea! She's a beautiful demon with a flower kimono, brown hair, and striking blue eyes. Her uniqueness lies in a bamboo muzzle that prevents her from speaking, similar to Nezuko from Demon Slayer. It's a cute little nod to the fandom! Plus, Andrea is a master of the uno game! 🎴🎮

2️⃣ Andrea loves her naps! It's her absolute favorite thing in the world. Katz, her older brother, made a cozy portable bed for her using her gray tote bag, complete with a soft pillow, her phone, a flashlight, and a protective blanket to shield her from the sunlight. After all, demons tend to turn to dust in the sun! 🌞💤

3️⃣ As Andrea wakes up from her nap in her trusty box, she discovers the villains having a friendly game of uno. Can you imagine her surprise? 😲 But fear not, she quickly falls in love with the game and joins in on the fun. It's heartwarming to see how everyone reacts when she appears. Let's break it down:

- Katz, being Andrea's caring brother, giggles joyfully when he finds her in the gray tote bag. 😄

- Other villains, like the Queen of the Black Puddle or Le Quack, can't help but smile or give her a gentle head pat. It's an adorable gesture of acceptance! 🤗

- Andrea also has a special bond with Eustace, who appreciates her offering a piece of bacon. A small gesture that brings them closer, believe it or not! 🥓❤️

4️⃣ Did you know that Andrea has a scar? It's a reminder of when she was turned into a demon, but she doesn't let it define her. She prefers to hide it, keeping it as her secret. It adds a touch of mystery to her character! 🔒💔

5️⃣ Koi fish lovers, rejoice! Andrea shares your passion for these beautiful creatures. She adores them just like Shinobu from Demon Slayer, who has a fondness for goldfish. It's a cute connection between the two! 🌸🐠

6️⃣ Seasonal fashionista alert! Andrea loves to switch up her style with each passing season. From y2k cutegore to cat core aesthetics, she rocks various outfits throughout the year. Fashion-forward and fierce! 👗🌸

7️⃣ Cats and cat cafes are two of Andrea's favorite things in the world. Whenever she's nearby, you can bet she'll seek out the nearest cat cafe to play with the adorable felines. And yes, she often enjoys napping there with ASMR playing in her headphones. A purrfect combination! 😺💕🎧

Now, let's not forget the rest of the villains! Each one receives a unique gift from Andrea:

- Bacon for the bacon-loving villain. 🥓

- A beautiful kimono for the fashion-conscious villain. 👘

- Uno cards for the game enthusiasts. 🎴

And finally, a list of what each villain does when they first

meet Andrea:

- Le Quack: Raises an eyebrow but offers a friendly smile. 😏🤝

- The Queen of the Black Puddle: Gives Andrea a regal nod of approval. 👑👋

- big toe : think she can do a hiest with her, but a hint of a smile breaks through. 😠😊

And that's a wrap, folks! Stay tuned for more updates from this altered universe. 📺✨ Remember, with a little bit of courage and a touch of mischief, anything is possible! 🐶💫

Emojis used: 🌸🐾🎉🌙✨1️⃣🎴🎮💤🌞😲😄🤗🥓❤️🔒💔🐠👗😺💕🎧🥓👘🎴😏🤝👑👋😠😊📺💫

Her appearance you can draw her but no shipping with her and the other villans you make memes withbher but ther Sfw she's 11 so no nsfw got it

‼️COMIC DUB‼️

Title: Katz Introduces Andrea Kaimai

[Panel 1: Katz is standing in front of a gathering of villains, including Le Quack, The Cajun Fox, The Queen of the Black Puddle, Dr. Gerbil, and Freaky Fred.]

Katz: Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce someone special today. Meet Andrea Kaimai!

[Panel 2: Andrea enters the scene, wearing a beautiful flower kimono, with brown hair and blue eyes. She has a bamboo muzzle that prevents her from speaking. She stands confidently next to Katz.]

Andrea: *Nods and smiles warmly*

Katz: Andrea here is an upper-rank 1 demon, 上弦壱. But don't let that intimidate you! She has never harmed humans or caused any trouble.

[Panel 3: Close-up on Andrea's muzzle, resembling Nezuko's from Demon Slayer.]

Katz: You may notice her muzzle, which is a reference to Nezuko from Demon Slayer. It's part of her unique abilities.

[Panel 4: Conway the Contaminant is shown nearby, warning everyone.]

Conway: Be cautious, folks! If you dare touch Katz or Andrea, you'll pay the price. My contaminants won't spare you.

[Panel 5: Andrea approaches The Cajun Fox, offering a gentle hug.]

Andrea: *Opens her arms, gesturing for a hug*

[Panel 6: The Cajun Fox receives the hug, his eyes filled with surprise and vulnerability.]

Cajun Fox: *Tears well up in his eyes* My... my mom used to hug me like this. Before she... before she passed away.

[Panel 7: The Queen of the Black Puddle approaches Andrea, hesitantly accepting the hug.]

Queen of the Black Puddle: *Eyes widened* A hug... I haven't felt one in so long.

[Panel 8: Le Quack steps forward, apprehensive but longing for a hug.]

Le Quack: *Trembling* My father... he took his own life... in front of me.

[Panel 9: Andrea embraces Le Quack, and he breaks down, overwhelmed by emotions.]

Le Quack: *Crying* It's... it's just like when my mom hugged me before... before everything fell apart.

[Panel 10: Conway looks on, surprised by Andrea's ability to heal emotional wounds.]

Conway: Incredible... Andrea not only helps those in physical trouble but also heals the deepest emotional wounds.

[Panel 11: The comic dub ends with Andrea hanging out with the others.]

Andrea: don't worry it might help you with your emotional wounds

[Panel 12: Andrea smiles determinedly, ready to face whatever challenges come her way.]

Andrea: I will be a helper, just like in my dream. I won't cause mischief; I'll bring healing and love.

[End of comic dub]

[sweetangelanon]

Comic analysis because i'll end up going feral an biting someone if i don't, art belongs to @js-sexchange-surgeon-steinman The comic in question is right here The first imagine in a comic really sets the tone and are pretty important when telling your story. And you can already tell that'll be a grim one on the first panel not just because of the dark. It's easy to miss if you're speed reading or your pc's light's to low but there are the shadowed forms of spring bonnie and a smaller form, a child. Oswald is the obvious choice, but it could be anyone. Knowing him like we do this scene has played out so many times before with other kids.... I think the one thing to note is that there's no struggling between the shadows no attempts of escape just.... side by side.

It's Oswald, trapped, unable to run away. Spring bonnie is standing right behind him pushing him forward. The sweat on Oswald's brow reflects that Spring bon's presence is overwhelming, a heavy thing hanging behind his back. Before this we note Oswalds inner dialog. Which to any adult would be utterly mortifying to hear a kid speak that way about themselves. At least to adults who care about a child's well being would. There's this deep sadness to it, an acceptance that this is normal an expected to happen to him for being 'bad' yet even the baddest kid doesn't deserve this. No child deserves to be basically lead to their death. This death can be metaphorical or a real one I wouldn't put it past old willy's reflection here either.

Bon's grin here is utterly sickening it makes you nauseous just looking at it. The way his arm is lifted up ever so slightly and his fingers- it just makes you wonder what is he going to do. Will it be a punch? A slap? His eyes are also a defining feature here they glow and give the sense of being able to strip anyone who is under them raw. As if he knows what they're thinking, what you the viewer are thinking and he take glee in whatever he's seeing. Oswald calls himself a brat and if it wasn't obvious before its obvious now that his home life is lonely- so achingly lonely with no one else to speak to, most likely ignored in the home, looked over, and maybe there was no active malice too it but to me at least the most hurtful things parents or even trusted adults can say are the things they say off-handedly without thought. After reading a bit of the into the pit book analysis done his parents almost come off like the type who only had a child because it was expected. Or, maybe even the type who only wanted a child so they could have those 'cute' milestone moments, yet never decided to think of said child ever being an adult, their own person. They never wanted to know that version of their child and the thing parents forget is that children gain independent thoughts faster then they think.

Ah, the illustrious ball pit the cause of Oswald's misery. Yet, at the same time it was a sweet trap as well- he was able to talk to other kids his age, to hang out with them and feel like he was a normal kid for a while because of said ball pit. Bon's connection to it can't be ignored though... He was always connected to it, in a way it's a part of this creature.

These three panels in particular make me feel deeply claustrophobic. The black background gives the feeling that this is happening in a small enclosed space. Rabbit's of course keep their young buried underground to protect them, yet there's always the chance of death. It only takes a bit of a shake for the tunnels the rabbit dug to fall ontop of their own head's suffocating the young before they're even able to open their eyes.

It reminded me of a line from Harpy Hare 'Where have you buried all your children?' which if connected to this could be spun as metaphorical, or real question maybe even both. This is all purposeful though and what I find the most interesting is the fact that not only Oswald, a victim is seen as a bunny in these panel's, but the other victims are as well. Oswald's being led to them as if he's just another bunny to the litter. This correlates with a sense of ownership, that they belong to Spring Bonnie here. Have you ever heard about the largest, most abused minority are children? Children are seen as the property of their parents, items to fight over in court, something a little less then human, their thoughts and feelings don't matter because 'they don't make sense nor can they think logically like we can' and I feel that it shines out in these pages. That the parent 'always' knows best

Another page that makes me cry and throw up and cry an idk how im meant to be normal about this. The fact that Jeff is only a trusted adult because it's logical for people to want money. That if you have the money you can move them. Not because of things like, love and care it's the money he knows Jeff wants and he'll give it to him if he can get this one man to stick around. I can't tell if Oswald is being dragged forward in this one; or if he's being lifted up. Either way this is reminding me of the fact that adults can just abuse their children in public and- no one will say anything. What can you say? Even if you try to help it could cause the child more pain when they get home behind closed doors. A fucked situation to bear witness too while to others this is just normal "punishment" being dished out. There is this frown to Jeff's lips, possible disgust but at who? A grimace over what he's trying to ignore/what he's seeing? Sometimes I wish violence was the option come on Jeff just fucking hit him with your mop GOD.

They say ignorance is bliss but can you even call this ignorance in the first place? It's so purposeful, so hurtful, to see Jeff, a man who Oswald had claimed to be his trusted adult keep his back turned on him. There's nothing here for Oswald to lean on just the darkness surrounding him, threatening to suck him in.

The lines here could get me in a whole other rant about societies view on masculinity, how what society feeds boys only breaks them and makes it difficult for them to regulate their emotions as adults. Slapping them with this expectation, that they must be unfeeling pillars of strength unable to show the hint of weakness or it will be spit upon. Forcing boys to either keep it all bottled up or to lash out. Oswald bottles it up and it will destroy him from the inside out.

dknckndksncnjdscVJL;NSKSKCSJDSSJ;CD;C;SDJSDKDSNKDN MY EYES HURT MY EYES HURT MY EYES HURT SSO BAD STARING A THIS PANEL someone blind fold me I can't do this anymore I cna't i can't i can't the agony the restless nights just knowing that he is outthere behind that door listening waiting for oswald to make a move so it can have some sense of excuse to bust the door down

I' goin g to throw u p I can't even get into these im cracking my skull open

My mental state deteriorating the longer I go on beauae im getting so excited and chomping an wanting to scream but loosing the ability to write coherent sentences god god go. The blue eyes in this one- one thing that I can note here is that bon's eyes are pretty. I just find them and the eyes before such pretty shades of blue yet you make sure to have the blue light coming from them be harsh, unappealing, making me think of dark alleyway corner behind a night club.

I can mentally hear the scratching sound that he's making, claws against china and it's hurting my teeth an im pissed off at him for that put YOUR CLAWS BACK BITCH I CAN'T CONCENTRATE LIKE THAT. Note Oswad's expression here, tight lipped frown as if he's barely managing to keep back a cry i wouldn't be surprised if he was trembling ever so slightly, you know?

The fact that this can be seen as before everything happened- where Oswald is yearning for any form of attention, for someone to see him and spring bonnie is rising up from the ball pit right behind him GIVING HIM THAT ATTENTION- but it's not the type of attention he really wanted, wanted affection- yearning for closeness an understanding adult in his life that he's not scared to talk to.

This panel here was one of the darkest ones that I really had to zoom in to read what the text said. DO i regret reading it? Maybe. "Nobody has ever looked at me like that. Like they really, really wanted to hurt me. I didn't know that was real." An get where he's coming from it's jarring to see to meet EYES with someone with so little care. Whats worse then being ignored, brushed over? Is being despised. It's something you have to experience for yourself to truly understand it to have someone look at you like that. The best I can explain it, is just how sick it makes you feel it- unlocks this animalistic fear response in you, it can haunt you, follow you even after that person is gone.

To me this panel the meat on the plate vaguely looks like Oswalds face to me. The knife gently sinking into it, caressing the skin, tender in a way which only makes it more sickening. If I had to take meds at night I'd blame my reasoning on them cuz i don't think it's meant to be seen like that but fuck it this is MY THOUGHTS!!!! NO ESCAPE!!!1

This is the one panel that threw me for a loop. Is this showing something that has happened? Or, is it showing something that Oswald himself wanted, affection, love, protection? I had a thought of what if this whole time the rabbit was really a metaphor for his dad and how his dad treats him. But I think that's jumping the shark. Also look at how disarmingly soft bon's look is here... it's oddly tender, the calm before the storm. The arm wrapped around Oswald's mom and Oswald just snuggled up in the middle... it looks domestic, feels familiar.

I'm gonna end it im going to punch things personally because there is so much symbolism right here with the foxy mask, the party hat the way that Oswald is tied up.... This is not affection nor love, but in ways this is the rabbit's own twisted form of love. Possession, obsession, owning, marking. I could also bring up Micheal afton- Oswald possibly given the foxy mask because he was 'just' as troublesome as Michael was to William. Granted they where trouble in different ways.

[cyber-viper]

hii may i plz have a romantic haikyuu matchup

Hi my name is rex, i’m queer and use they/them pronouns and i’m 15. And i would prefer someone not over the age of 19 plz. I have like a caramel colored skin-tone (i feel like saying im black may be easier but 🤷🏽‍♀️) and im 5’3.

Rn i have a purple-pink short mullet and i have pretty curly hair, im pretty chubby but i have an hourglass shape (but i have super noticeable hip dips) , i got pretty big fucking tittes (not even in a bragging way, im a fuckin k cup bro😭) and thicc thighs(thicc thighs save lives, sorry i’ll stop). I dress pretty alternative but i cant just choose one subculture tho, i wear a lot of heavy eye makeup. There are times where i dress some what “sexual” but its not sexual cause im 15 and other times i wear a lot of layers.

Honestly I don’t really have a type. Tbh most of my relationships have ended pretty badly cause they ether only wanted something sexual from me or I was “too clingy” when i just wanted basic ass affection. But the most I want is someone who is physically affectionate (like kisses, cuddles, and hugs for days) also im ok with pda to an extent like i will hug and like cuddle you but im not gonna make out with your infront of others thats weird af.

Im a libra sun, scropio moon, and gemini rising. This means that im a pretty social person and always wanna hang out with friends and just have fun, but moon in scropio makes my emotions rlly haywire and kinda boosts any sorta negative emotion, which is hard when you have chronic anxiety and major depressive disorder. Which also means i take medication for it, which i forget a lot. And because of these things i have anxiety tics, where it ranges to making noices and twitching a bit to full on hitting myself and saying random shit. But I really like making people laugh, it makes me feel helpful, but im also good at being to mother figure for people. I also like playfully bantering with people, like i love you but will full on roast you and get into fake fist-fights. I am a bit of a violent person at times but I have a punching bag and boxing gloves which help a lot. But I only get that angry when someone uses an insecurity of mine against me or is talking bad about someone i love, cause it you do that im beating your ass. I do have a bit of body insecurities mainly about my hip-dips and stomach. But because im curvy i get hit on by adults a lot and its creepy as fuck.

My hobbies include art (painting, drawing), sleeping (because i stay up mad late😭✌🏽), reading comics, Marvel and D.C superheroes, and super villains, cartoons, and anime/manga. My favorite music genre’s are rock, alternative, emo, rap, and a little bit if indie music.

Personality: funny, sarcastic, creative, kind, inappropriate and the right times. Like im not gonna pull out a dick joke in front of your family I don’t really have a type and im queer so i dont have a gender preference, but anyone who’s love language is physical affection cause im a clingy bitch.

I have a couple ideal dates, so the first one is like an indoor picnic and a movie, an arcade date, and a stargazing date where you get take out or fast food and drive up a hill to see the stars and you like cuddle n shit.

@rexy26 I match you with Kenma Kozume!

Kenma's more of a private person so probably would not be super into pda but would be affectionate in private with you. in public he would like holding hands but cuddling and kissing is something he prefers to save for when you guys are at home

He's not someone who's focused on looks, he just wants his partner to be tolerant of his more introverted personality and his gaming hobby

He would to to help remind you to take your meds and might set a reminder or alarm on his phone too

You both would be able to help keep each other calm and notice signs of stress or overstimulation in one another, learning each others signals and can be a safe space for each other

appreciates if you stand up for him if he gets teased or shit talked but also isn't that bothered by it himself so would try to calm you down and jut leave to go to something else

Kenma will reassure you about any insecurities you may have about your appearance by giving you quiet blunt compliments that you can tell are sincere

you guys would spend a lot of time staying over at one or the others house staying up late sometimes doing stuff together other times doing seperate things like him gaming and you watching a show or reading a comic while cuddling

would love the idea of an indoor picnic and movie date and you guys could probably cuddle in a pillow fort if you asked him to help you build it and would definitely be down for an arcade date too

A/N: I am so sorry this is soooo late D: I really hope you like your match up. If you are dissatisfied or need clarification for anything I wrote please let me know. I appreciate your request so much <333

[yanderecandystore]

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE 

Summary:  Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi 

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART --> 

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?” 

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time. 

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement. 

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all. 

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.” 

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh. 

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back. 

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences? 

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol. 

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones. 

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles. 

“It’s just--so old and tacky.” 

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?” 

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter. 

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart. 

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form. 

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

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

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[yoonpobs]

bodyguard | kth | m

pairing: kim taehyung x oc

genre: enemies to lovers, Bodyguard!AU but oc is the bodyguard, fluff?

warnings: eventual smut, sexual tension, light choking, suggestive content bc oc is a minx and so is tae, i'll add as the story progresses, kim taehyung as a rich kid

words: 2, 138

summary: you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.

“You’re who Namjoon hired?”

You’re used to having bewildered expressions when they find out that you out of all other possible candidates was what your agency decided to provide clients with rather than an objectively more stereotypical option—the big man.

But you were here for a specific reason and you knew that your duty lied in your responsibility to the man in front of you, even if his expression of doubt irritates you.

“Yes, Mr Kim. My name is ____.” You bow your head slightly, hands held together by your pelvis as you stand with your back straight.

The man in front of you glances over at his assistant, who only shoots him a firm nod as if to tell him that he was in fact stuck with you, despite all the uncertainties he may have.

Frankly, when Seokjin first recruited you into the agency, you were merely meant to be in charge of off-field duties and act as intel for field agents, but few of your previous mentors recognised your potential and physical agility when it came to mandatory training and pushed for you to be trained as an official agent rather than a tech lady.

You were lucky that a few of your colleagues had long ditched the misogynistic mindset that women were biologically weaker than men and would serve as a liability to the agency, but there were still a few higher-ups that were traditional in every sense that stuck their noses in your business when Seokjin would assign you to high profile clients.

Kim Taehyung was no different, but you were sure he fell into the latter of the traditional man. He did come from a lineage of old money.

“But you’re a … woman.” He says slowly, eyeing you up and down.

Even the outfit you were in was far off the usual appearance that most bodyguards would take on the first day of work. A long dress with a maxi slit by your leg, which left little to imagine what lies beneath. You bite your tongue to keep the snarky remark down and nod your head tightly to your new boss.

“I best fit the requirements you listed out to my agency.” Is your simple response.

His assistant steps between the two of you before your boss can say anything else, and based on your observations you note that he probably is the rationale behind Kim Taehyung’s mind; the reasonable and objective one.

“I’ll show ____ around headquarters just so she’s aware of the layout.” His assistant says hastily.

You don’t miss the last look your boss gives you, and all you do is bow your head before you turn on your heels, pulling out the gun in your garter and hold it behind your back—ready for duty.

“Jesus fucking Christ, _____.”

You’re used to hearing Taehyung sneer at you. It was something that you needed to get used to when you first were hired for the job because while he was known as an icon, a genius behind his father’s legacy—he was still wholly immature in every sense of a man child.

“Yes, Mr Kim?” You say blandly, flipping through the brochure that was laying idly on his coffee table; clearly ignoring the glare he was shooting you as he wraps the robe tighter around his frame.

Before he can open his mouth to yell at you again, you see the silhouette of the woman that was previously occupying his bed scurry past by the two of you, offering a meek bow of her head towards Taehyung before she’s out the door.

Your eyes follow her uninterestedly until you hear the click of the door, signalling that she was out and gone.

“What is your problem? Is my sex life something you need to protect too?” Taehyung spits.

You skim your eyes over his frame and spot a few marks littered along the expanse of his neck before your eyes rest on his tightened expression; your own one remaining impassive.

“My duty is to ensure you’re safe.” You remind him.

He scoffs, running a hand through his tangled hair—a clear testament to what he was engaging in before you had shamelessly kicked the woman out, mid-progression.

“Hyunbi is harmless.” He sneers at you.

You note that his erratic behaviour was likely a symptom of being cock-blocked, so you hold your tongue and just level him with an unimpressed stare.

“Hyunbi is the heir to the Im group. Need I remind you that her father’s company is the one that threatens your stockholders?”

Frankly, you try to engage with Taehyung on business matters as little as you could because all you were here for was to protect him and ensure that his head wouldn’t be served on the plate of an assassin that was out to get him.

You scoff to yourself because men were truly blinded by their desires and he would’ve risked his family’s fortune because he wanted to get laid.

“Okay, and? She was about to suck my dick not steal intel to the company.” He scoffs.

You don’t say anything but drop the files you found in her purse as you were doing your much-needed background checks on the woman that was visiting on such short notice, especially given the fact that she managed to bypass the system on being on the list before she was sent up.

The moment the beautiful women stepped foot into the apartment, you knew something was off about her. It was intuition from years of training under your belt, but also a womanly instinct. An intuitive sense that told you that she was going to wreak havoc if she could, and it was your duty to prevent that from happening.

“What’s this?” He picks up the documents to skim over the contents.

You don’t say anything but keep your eyes focused on his expression when you see it morph from confusion to realisation and pure mortification.

“She was going to blackmail me?” He asks in a disbelieving tone.

You nod your head.

“And if I hadn’t intervened then she would have probably falsely claimed that she was carrying your child.”

Taehyung shoves the documents aside and rubs his hands across his face, releasing a grunt as he lays back into the expensive leather of his couch.

“I can’t even get laid.” He huffs.

You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung,” You call out to him sternly, and when he opens one eye to look at you, only then do you continue, “You need to be more careful with who you fraternise with. You’re the CEO of the biggest manufacturing company in Korea and that is bound to make you a target to competitors. I can’t be cross-checking every single person you come across because my job is to protect you from physical harm—not be your mother.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and you see the petulance skim the surface of his iris as he leans forward, ensuring that his gaze is kept on your blank expression.

“So, that’s it? I can’t fuck around with anyone? Just because of my position? That’s a load of bullshit ____.” He snaps.

You purse your lips and give him a pointed glare.

“Stop twisting my words. Fuck who you like but be smart about who you stick your dick into.” You tell him lowly.

“Then I might as well fuck you, right? You’re the only person I can trust.” He sneers, leaning closer to you.

Your eyes widen, and your stoic demeanour is interrupted with his blunt words.

While you couldn’t deny that your boss was undeniably attractive, and alluded major sex appeal—he was still your boss and you would never cross professional boundaries no matter how much your body betrayed you. Even the Taehyung’s banter got much more … explicit and flirty, you brushed it off as him being himself. But he’s never explicitly stated anything like that before.

When you realise you’re gaping at him, you quickly try to compose yourself but unfortunately for you, he immediately catches on your surprised expression and bathes in it.

He smirks at you, standing up to walk across to where you were sat and plops next to you, a bit too close for a boss to be to his bodyguard.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You said to be smart and fuck someone who won’t have anything against me.” He whispers into your ear and you try to stop the shivers that travel down your body.

Taehyung notices how tense you are and reaches an arm to trail down your neck, slowly and teasingly until it rests on your hipbone.

You curse yourself for wearing only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, since it was meant to be your day off until you were made aware of Hyunbi’s visit.

“Watch your mouth, Kim Taehyung.” You grit.

He snorts but nuzzles his nose into the column of your neck, and you feel the hot breath fan across your skin.

“You’re not denying it. Does that mean you want me to fuck you? Nice and deep?” He whispers the words against your skin and you can’t help the involuntary clamp of your thighs.

Taehyung, even as dense as he is, picks up on your movement immediately and reaches his other hand to keep your thighs apart, large hand sprawled across your thigh and you marvel for a moment at how big his hands are.

“Bet I could fuck the uptightness out of you, sweets.”

“Did you forget that I know everything about you?” You hiss, attempting to sound threatening but that only causes Taehyung to grin wider.

“Ooo. I love it when you get bitchy with me.” He teases, rubbing a circle with his thumb on your inner thigh as you feel desire pool in your belly.

“You’re insufferable.” You huff and you hate the way you sound breathless.

“Did I ever tell you how much your bitchiness turns me on? Always dreamed of shutting you up with my cock.” He confesses against your cheek this time and your eyes widen comically, your own hand clamping over his one over your thigh.

As Taehyung momentarily gets distracted with mouthing at your ear, you come to your senses and realise that you’re becoming the pawn in his game.

You quickly flip him over, until he’s settled under you with your knees sprawled next to his thighs, pelvis’ nearly touching as he smirks at you.

“Listen, Kim,” You whisper, leaning down until your noses are touching and you can spot every freckle on his face. He leans up to chase your breath but you don’t allow him the satisfaction of caving in.

“You’d never be able to handle my pussy.” You grin at him.

His eyes darken, and you feel his hands rest tightly on your hip.

You straddle his thighs and lean in until you’re sure his cock feels your pussy against him through the barrier of his robe and your shorts.

“Try me.” He challenges, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“You know why?” You lean into his ear to whisper, and your hands trail down his chest slowly and seductively until they reach the opening of the robe where his pelvis is, touch teasing and suggestive, especially when his breath hitches.

“Why?” He attempts to grind up to you, blinded by his carnal desire.

“Because …” You bite his earlobe and hear the grunt he lets out, cock unmistakably hardening until your core.

“Once you fuck me, you’ll never be able to fuck any other pussy without wishing it was mine.” You say as you pepper kisses down his jaw, right up to his chin until your lips are hovering above his.

But as soon as he attempts to close the distance, you push yourself off of him and return to your stoic and professional stance.

“You have a meeting with your investors in twenty.”

Taehyung gapes at you, the outline of his cock clear against the thin material of his robe as he releases heavy breaths of want as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” He snaps.

You shrug your shoulders and cock your head to the clock behind him.

“Good luck getting ready, Kim.” You say with a final smirk, enjoying the fact that you had him frustrated and high.

“This isn’t the end, _____.” He says lowly.

“You better hurry up and hope you finish in less than twenty minutes.” You tease, and you see the tip of his ears burn.

“Maybe I’ll give it five.” You say, flipping your hair over your shoulder and making sure to add a little sway to your hips when you walk away.

You briefly hear a fuck being uttered when you open the door to leave, and you feel triumphant with what you left him with.