#And it feels like it’s so trivial and stupid and that’s making it worse

[teamfortresstwo]

Eughhh,,, feeling like shit cause I suck at Hades now because I stopped caring about improving in the game but I didn’t think it would make me backslide so much…

[yanderestarangel]

Wesker has consumed my mind entirely, so could I leave an request for him?

Albert wesker as the father of readers boyfriend, at first he didn’t pay much attention to them but the more often reader came by, the more his thoughts started to become intimate and every time reader would have a fight with his son, wesker would use it to make them doubt their relationship with his son.

Really love your fics, if you won’t do this request it’s fine, but really can’t wait to read more of your story’s! Hope you’re doing alright and take care of yourself 🫶

— HEADCANONS RE || WESKER FATHER-IN-LAW X SON-IN-LAW READER

TW ┊dark smut, ftm reader, aggression, toxic relationship, age gap, v!sex, cheating, eat out, blowjob, 69, sexual recording, sensitive themes, dead dove.

WARNING : no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content, block me and move on with your day<3

— SFW AND NSFW

In Wesker's eyes, at first you were just another toy for his son, you were already the third boyfriend his son had in less than three months — so the scientist didn't even look at you, just greeting you out of politeness and isolating himself again in his office to continue his work."It won't last long, I bet." Albert said to himself, referring to yet another boyfriend of his son, but he didn't get involved in matters... After all, he was a man too busy for trivial things.

You obviously tried to be a polite boy and get along with your father-in-law, but all your attempts failed as the blonde didn't even look at you — and if he did, you couldn't speak because he simply wore those sunglasses 24 of the day. It was frustrating for you every time you received a rude and rude response from your own father-in-law, making you give up on getting closer to him.

But despite his attempts to avoid you out of pure disinterest, he couldn't deny that you were getting into his routine much more than he wanted to admit. His son always brought you to spend the weekends and have lunch at his mansion, so finally the older man's eyes noticed you.

You were a kind and sweet man, different from his son who was always the same as his personality — only a little worse considering his extreme elitist upbringing. But not you, you were simple and sweet, it even surprised him how stupidly innocent you could be sometimes.

And his also knew that it wouldn't take long for his son to start a fight with you because of his stupidity.

The older blonde started to have unhealthy thoughts about you, your presence was like a balm for him, but also like an inferno that threatened to burn everything and everyone around him.

He began to wonder what it would be like to squeeze your thighs, how your soft skin would feel in his big, calloused hands — how beautiful you would look moaning and begging him to go deeper into your beautiful body... How he would be better than his son being a companion to you.

He really tried to push those thoughts away and tried to approach you like a real father-in-law would, apologizing for his previous behavior and that he was just stressed about some company matters.

But the way your face and doe eyes lit up at simply being treated well by him made the heat in his core gradually rise — every fiber of his being was pulsing and burning like a fire... Only he knows how much he controlled himself to doesn't push you against the nearest wall and make you his right there.

Albert tried to suppress the feelings of lust that were slowly threatening to rot his mind, but every time he saw your smile, even those caused by his son, he wanted to do some crazy things and take you for himself. "Fuck, I'm too old to act like a dedicated man controlled only by his desires." Wesker thought as he rested his temple on his closed fist and watched you on the other side of the room, in his mansion, hugging his son and watching a movie. But he knew that moments of peace like that would end soon, especially with his son's toxic behavior — he had already predicted this, but he never thought it would take a considerably longer time compared to other times.

Even though it took a while, it happened, you fought with your boyfriend and practically the entire gated community heard the screams. Wesker was still trying not to interfere in your two lives because of the feeling of wanting to have you for himself — but after the fifth fight where you were slapped in the face by his son, he felt obliged to break up the heated argument and take you to a safe place away from there.

Before you said anything he just took off his sunglasses and for the first time looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. "No no, you don't need to say anything kid... I know my son was a horrible man and an asshole to you. I'm on the right side, just because he's my son doesn't mean I'm going to blind myself to the horrible things he did you hear." Albert said it loud and clear, then his cold, rough hands found your face and made you focus on his face.

"Listen to me, pretty boy, you deserve someone better than him." He spoke with a tone that made you feel goosebumps, the nickname "pretty boy" came out practically erotically from his thin lips and the look with the older man's dilated pupils didn't help much with your confused feelings.

With each fight that happened in your relationship, you felt closer and closer to your father-in-law. Even starting to frequent Wesker's mansion when your boyfriend wasn't there, purposely just to be alone with the older man.

Between smiles, conversations and not-so-unconscious looks, you quickly found yourself sitting on the older man's thighs while both of you were breathing faster — unable to hold back any longer, Wesker had given in to his desires and finally kissed you, his lips on yours, in a warm and desperate kiss — his hands going to your ass squeezing the soft flesh and quickly soft moans coming out of both of you, the erection in his pants wouldn't let him lie that he wanted more than just kissing his own son-in-law. "Come on lad... I'll show you how much you need someone older who really knows how to take care of you."

Wesker's cock was thick and pulsing enough to make your brain shut down with each thrust, moaning and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as your legs trembled around his muscular torso — your pussy dripped onto his bare, skin-tight member. skin made you feel the thick, dirty tip of precum kissing your uterus and threatening to fill you at any moment. "Fuck--! open that pussy wider for me, good boy..." Wesker moaned as he grabbed your thighs and squeezed the soft flesh there, leaving marks all over it.

Having sex with your own father-in-law was dirty and wrong... But it was incredibly hot. Unlike your boyfriend, the older man really focused on your pleasure.

He smiled huskily as he saw you turn into a trembling mess barely able to suck his dick while you did a 69 in his office. "You have a charming and pretty pussy, boy," He moaned, licking and wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he felt your hand on his cock, stroking it gently. The light pressure on his dick was pleasant and arousing as it also fueled his desire to make you feel as good as he could. He kept alternating between his fingers inside you and his tongue on your clit, and every now and then, he'd let a finger slip into your ass, and a moan from your lips encouraged him to continue doing so. "Fuck, you're tight, so, so tight..." Wesker's moaned, his hands squeezing your thighs, wanting you to hold onto him, to let him know that you were enjoying it. "My son is an asshole for letting such a needy and bitchy boy like you run wild, I'm glad I got you for myself, right?"

The two of you fucked like two animals in heat, even with your boyfriend at home — every time you waited for him to sleep and ran to Wesker's office. "Do you want me to help you with this my angel?" The scientist laughed as he fingered your pussy with two thick fingers, rhythmically thrusting into your g-spot and making you roll your eyes and hold on to the wooden table that you were leaning against, making the tall man laugh.

"Shhhh, don't make any noise, be a good slut and keep those beautiful moans bottled up ok? You really are sensitive boy- holy shit, it's just my fingers and you're already squirming for me to touch that cute pussy of yours." He snapped his fingers against your pussy, a sting, but not enough to make you shudder too much as his attention was diverted to your clit, flicking it with his thumb, trying to tease you even more and make you beg for him. him again. "You want me to fuck you don't you? Then you better beg for it boy." Albert pronounced each syllable fiercely, unbuttoning his pants and once again exposing his thick, pulsing member — you could smell the musk and the heat radiating from his groin, making you drip even more and barely be able to think beyond begging him in a slurred manner to fuck you soon.

"My son should see what a whore his boyfriend is for me, you know?" He teased as he buried himself without warning into your wet heat, covering your mouth with his hand as his thrusts were animalistic but with a concern that his cock would hit all the right spots on your sensitive wall.

Fingers, tongue, dick, sex toys, everything you wanted he used for your pleasure, taking you to orgasms that you didn't even know could be so pleasurable. Besides his look conveyed more than a simple desire for you — he wanted more, a lovers' affair wouldn't satisfy him, he needed to steal you from his son.

And how to do this? Simple, record a short porn video and send it to him later — cruel? Sure, but your father-in-law was sick and obsessed with you enough to not even care about his own son.

"Look at the camera, come on my prince, be a good slut and fix your eyes on the lens." Wesker pulled your hair as he made you look at the recording instrument with your face messy and flushed with pleasure — your pussy squeezed and milked the older man's cock as he made sure to record you from every possible angle.

"Smile darling... Tell him who you belong to." He grunted in your ear, hearing you moan his name repeatedly as he increased his thrusts to the point of making your groin hurt and hot, mixing your juices and his cum that made your thighs even wetter. He held his head tightly to the camera, as a cruel smile spread across his own face. “It looks like you lost quite a boy, I never thought you were so stupid, son... But you can leave it, daddy will take good care of your... Ex-boyfriend." The blonde laughed as he came again inside your pussy, seeing you moan drunk of pleasure for him — Wesker loved you in a distorted way, but unlike his son, he really saw a future with you by his side. Like his boy, as it had to be.

[arieslost]

waking up from a nightmare, literally gasping for air and in seconds charles is by your side and holding you close. he’s whispering in your ear, trying to soothe you and is wiping your tears with his thumb bye i love my little precious leclerc

“my little precious leclerc” actually made me tear up i hope u know. i adore him

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

wake me up | cl16

you wouldn’t call it a recurring nightmare. more like a nightmare that started one night, years ago, and kept getting worse and worse as time went on, layers of hurt and fear and heartbreak settling on top of each other every time your subconscious displayed it in all its horrid glory. you can’t even pinpoint what the worst part about it is anymore.

it used to be waking up alone. by yourself, in your pitch black room, was almost as bad as being asleep and experiencing the nightmare. there was never anything to distract you from the feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks, your heart still racing from fear, your eyes conjuring up flashes of the nightmare even though you were awake.

now it’s waking up next to charles, wanting to wake him up, desperately craving the comfort that only he can give you, but refusing to do so because of how hard he works. you won’t deprive him of his sleep, certainly not for something as trivial as a stupid nightmare. especially because he has trouble falling asleep most nights; always thinking about things he might have forgotten to do, his schedule for the next day, the next race weekend, when he can get you your all access pass.

you always tell him not to worry about you, that he has enough on his plate and you knew that when you said yes to being his girlfriend. this, your nightmare, is certainly much more trivial than making sure you have a paddock pass for a race weekend. this isn’t even real. it doesn’t matter.

so when you sleep horribly because of it, and charles notices (because of course he does), you just brush it off, saying you couldn’t get comfortable, you were too hot, too cold, whatever excuse you can think up on a whim.

“you should’ve woken me up, amore.” it’s what he says every. single. time.

and you know he means it. that he truly wants you to wake him up so he can care for you in whatever capacity he possibly can. you just can’t bring yourself to do it because of this.

this time, though, you don’t have a choice.

there’s another terrifying layer to your nightmare tonight. you’re lucid to some degree, enough to know that you should have the ability to wake yourself up from this subconscious plane, but you’re incapable of doing so. you tell your eyes to open, but they’re glued shut like they have to see this through to the end, even though you know how this ends.

you fight, and fight, and fight, until finally, your eyes fly open, tears flooding your vision and a ragged gasp tearing its way out of your throat as you scramble into an upright position. the commotion wakes charles immediately, and he doesn’t even ask what’s going on before he springs into action.

“breathe, baby,” he murmurs softly, gathering you into his arms. “listen to my heartbeat.”

you’re trembling, trying your hardest to calm down as you instantly melt into his embrace, his warmth spreading into your limbs and working to ease the tension you didn’t know they were holding.

“i-i—” you try to say, your mouth struggling to form the words.

“shh, it’s okay. i’ve got you, i’m right here.” he whispers, kissing your forehead and running his hands along the backs of your own.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, nuzzling your face into his neck and breathing in his comforting scent.

“don’t apologize,” he replies firmly. “is this why you’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

you nod slowly, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“why didn’t you ever wake me up?”

“i just...” you sigh, shifting closer to him and tilting your face towards him as he reaches to wipe your tears. “it’s stupid. i’ve been having this nightmare for years now, and it just keeps getting worse. this time, i couldn’t wake up. usually i just wake up and deal with it. you work so hard every day, and this really isn’t important—”

“i’m going to stop you right there, amore,” charles interrupts, cupping your face with both hands. “i don’t ever want you to say that anything you’re going through isn’t important.”

“but—”

“yes, i do work hard. i have a lot going on more often than not. but out of everything, i work hardest for this. us. do you know what the most important thing in my life is?”

“ferrari?” you answer immediately, only half joking.

“no, ma drôle de fille,” he laughs, “it’s you. i’m going to retire from racing one day, but i’m going to be with you until the day i die. and even after that.”

you feel yourself tearing up for a whole new reason.

“so don’t tell me that it’s not important,” he continues, leaning back into the pillows and bringing you with him. “if it’s bothering you, it bothers me too. you hear me?”

you nod.

“and you���ll wake me up next time?”

you nod again.

“good. now close your eyes. keep listening to my heartbeat. i’ll fight off the nightmares for you, okay amore?”

“you are so cheesy, cha,” you grumble, snuggling into his chest.

“shh, go to sleep,” he coos quietly, stifling a laugh as he pets your hair.

you shut your eyes dutifully, focusing in on the steady beat of his heart, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

you dream of him.

word count: 907

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: every charles leclerc request i get makes my heart soar because not only do i get to write about my favorite driver but i also get to improve on said writing THANK U ANON

ma drôle de fille = “my funny girl” (i hope)

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Rindou x Reader

wc: 1200

angst, fluff

not edited

Rindou loves you. You know he does, but he has this annoying habit of not listening to you sometimes. Especially when it comes to recommendations. You recommend him food? Yeah, he'll try it. spoiler alert: he forgets. what about a movie you watched the other day and liked so much that you told him to watch it immediately? "Yeah, when I have time I will" is his answer. However, he'll only watch it if someone else recommends it too not even remembering you mentioning anything about it. And then he has the nerve to tell you all about it while you listen to him unimpressed. Sometimes it makes you feel like your opinion matters very little to him but you've never told him this. Part of you doesn't want to seem like an insecure girlfriend while the other part thinks there is no deep meaning to this.

This war in your mind ended when you entered your bedroom after having a bad day and saw Rindou sitting on the bed leaning his back on the headboard and "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" in his hands. You remember telling him how you cried reading it. However, you're surprised he's reading what you recommended. sensing your presence Rindou removed his glasses and looked at you.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted" you sit beside him "Do you like it?" you ask indicating the book.

He shrugs

"I've only read 20 pages yet. But Kakucho said it's really good"

You roll your eyes. thinking that you should've seen this coming you mumble "Of course he did" which wasn't as quiet as you expected because Rindou turned to you with a confused hum. You just shake your head as in "nothing" and try to get up but Rindou grips your arm and makes you sit back down. You sigh not having enough energy to deal with this.

"What is it?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Should I be?"

He closed the book setting it aside as he turned to me with narrowed his eyes as if sensing the trap.

"I... don't know. What did I do?"

"It's nothing Rindou, let me go"

Your words had the opposite effect as his grip tightened.

"That's not my name" His voice got low

"Uh it actually is"

"Not for you. Did I fuck up that badly?"

Now that you think about it no he didn't. It's probably you who's overreacting and creating a problem over nothing. You sound ridiculous even to you and you hate yourself.

"It's really nothing. I've just had a bad day so... I just wanna sleep"

After a moment of hesitation, Rindou let you go, his eyes following as you got changed and got in bed turning your back to him. As you lay in bed your overthinking got worse. The fact that he doesn't know what he's doing affects you this badly means that he's not doing it on purpose. But that's even worse. Does that mean that he doesn't even value your opinion enough to think about how neglecting it would affect you? Maybe he thinks you don't care about it so he doesn't too. Or maybe he just forgets. This also means he doesn't care. Every version you think about leads to you thinking he doesn't care and that feels really shitty.

On the other hand, Rindou was watching you lying silently with your back to him and he knew then he definitely did something wrong. You get in bed and do not snuggle up to him planting your head in his neck? Yes, something is terribly wrong.

"C'mon love, tell me what's wrong" he snaked his arm around your waist, and turns out this is all it took for your tears to run free. You bite your lip to stop it from trembling feeling so stupid for crying over something so trivial.

"And don't you dare to say it's nothing bec- are you crying?"

Rindou could swear he heard his heart crash. He turned you around to face him. tucking your hair behind your ear he quickly wiped your tears.

"Hey, don't cry, i- I'm sorry okay? Whatever I did, I didn't mean it just don't cry"

Even though he thought, and has told you this plenty of times, that you looked pretty when you cried, he hated when you cried. Even more, when he was the reason behind those tears.

"Talk to me please?"

Looking anywhere but at him, you opened your mouth to speak.

"It's really stupid"

"So stupid that you're crying over it? I don't care, tell me."

You don't want to.

"It's just... sometimes you don't listen to me"

Rindou was confused. You sound so crazy to him right now. He doesn't listen to you? You have him wrapped around your finger. Your word is a fucking law to him and you have the nerve to say that he doesn't listen to you? He only listens to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything I suggest you just forget until someone else suggests the same thing. Like-" You sniffle between speech "Like this book. You're reading it because Kakucho told you, but I told you to read it weeks ago"

The more you talk the more you want to shut up. Dreading seeing Rindou's expression you focus on your hands.

"It feels like you don't care about my opinion. It's so stupid I know..."

"I don- What?" Rindou couldn't help but exclaim. His mind processing thousands of thoughts right now. You think he doesn't care? How long have you been feeling like this? And you didn't tell him? Is there anything else you're not telling him because it's so "stupid"? "Listen, love, I'm so sorry, I didn't know- Of course, I care, Who do you think I listen to if not you? Ran? Fucker used to think Julius Caeser was named after the salad."

That made you chuckle and it was like a rainbow after the storm for Rindou. A sound he never wants to stop hearing. smiling at you he continued.

"I do listen to you okay? I remember every little detail you tell me. Starting with the shows you watch to the drama going on at your work. By the way, Rika got what she deserved, she was being the bitch first."

"That's what I'm saying" You exclaim and Rindou was so happy he could see you smiling again.

"I don't want you to doubt your value in my life okay? You're the best thing ever happened to me and I'd be a dumbass if I didn't appreciate you. And don't ever try to hide things from me again. No matter how stupid you think it is. Nothing is stupid to me when it comes to you. So no more tears, alright?"

You nod scooting closer.

"alright"

Rindou wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

"By the way, I started reading this book because you suggested it. Kakuchou saw it in my car when I bought it and told me it was good"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Sleep now"

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight, love"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

got the idea from modern family's one episode

might delete this one too later, not sure. just felt like sharing

[mrsshabana]

𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨'𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro hates Valentine's Day, but he doesn't hate you. So he decides to do something he thought he'd never do. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, modern au, fluff, Gyutaro is a delinquent and a bit of a pervert ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.6k words. Happy Valentine's Day!! ♡

Gyutaro despises Valentine's day.

Everything about that day makes his skin crawl. So much so that he always skips school on that day so he can avoid being reminded of it.

The only good thing about the day is when Ume comes home with various assortments of chocolates and candies that she shares with him. They munch on the sugary treats while making fun of the pathetic letters she received from the boys in her class.

But deep down Gyutaro wishes he'd receive something for Valentine's Day. That a cute girl from one of his classes would give him a box of chocolates, or even a note confessing her love to him. But he knows that would never happen. He's far too ugly and disliked.

Gyutaro has a reputation for being a delinquent. Skipping class, smoking cigarettes, and getting into fights. Most students avoid him, especially the girls. His appearance is off-putting and his personality is even worse. He typically only harasses the boys though, leaving the girls alone unless his sister has a problem with one of them.

The only time he's ever talked to a girl was when he was forced to be her partner for a biology project. Of course, he didn't contribute anything to the project. But the girl didn't complain. She was kind to him anyway and got them both an A, never telling the teacher she did all the work by herself. Gyutaro thought that girl was sweet and really cute too, though she was a bit of a nerd. Sometimes when he sees her in the hall she'll wave to him and he'll smile and nod back.

Besides the other delinquent kids, that girl is the closest thing Gyutaro has to a friend.

And now that it's senior year and he's about to graduate he feels like he has nothing to lose. So why not give a Valentine's gift to that cute nerdy girl? Out of everyone in the school, you're the only one that makes him blush when he thinks about you.

He knows you'll reject him, there's no doubt about it in his mind. But he's a firm believer in debts and he feels like he owes you one. You did get him that A in Biology after all. This is the only way he can convince himself that it makes sense to give you something for Valentine's Day. Just to get rid of his debt to you. Nothing more than that.

The day before Valentine's day he decides to skip his afternoon class and go to the convenience store to find you a gift.

The aisles are filled with flowers, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, and cheesy stuffed animals. Looking at the pathetic displays makes him scoff. He doesn't want to be like everyone else and get you something stupid and trivial. But he doesn't know anything about you, so how is he supposed to pick a gift that you'd like?

With a groan, he walks up and down various aisles in the convenience store - stopping when he sees a wall of gashapon machines. And that's when he sees it. A little character on one of the machines that looks so familiar, every time he sees it he's reminded of you. He has no idea who this character is or what show they are from, all he knows is that you like them. When you were studying with him for that stupid project you wore a graphic t-shirt with this character on it. He remembers them so well because their face was plastered on your left tit. He may or may not have been staring while you were busy working on the project.

A grin tugs at his lips as he pulls out some change and walks over to the machine. First try, and it's not the character you like. Second time, it's not them either. Neither is the third try.

"Goddammit!" He grunts, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in frustration.

"Sir! There's no smoking allowed in here!" The cashier yells at him.

Gyutaro glares at him from the corner of his eye, without saying a word. The coldness in his deep blue stare is enough to send shivers down the employee's spine. He gets a cold sweat and quickly turns a blind eye to Gyutaro.

He brings the cigarette up to his mouth and breathes in deeply. Exhaling as he inserts more coins into the machine.

He plays the gashapon twenty-one times before he gets the character you like.

"About fucking time," he growls - shoving all of the capsule toys into his backpack.

He makes sure to flip off the employee before he leaves the convenience store. Lugging his bag full of capsule toys home, making sure to keep them hidden so his sister doesn't notice.

The next day, Gyutaro skips all of his classes. Only coming into the school building to put your gift in your locker. He walks up to your locker, looking around suspiciously to make sure that no one is around, and tries to open it. But it's locked.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Of course, it'd be locked. Is he an idiot?

He furrows his brows as he tries to think of a way to open this damn locker. Looking over at the clock he sees that there are only two minutes left until the bell rings.

"Shit!" Without thinking he kicks your locker, creating a large dent in the spot where the lock is, making it completely unusable now. "Whatever, I don't have time!"

He hurriedly puts the capsule toy in your locker with a sticky note reading, "Happy Valentine's Day - G," and leaves the scene.

.˚₊┈ ꒰ఎ ♥︎ ໒꒱ ┈₊˚.

When class ends you immediately walk towards your locker, eager to get your stuff and leave for the day. Not wanting to be around all of the other girls who received Valentine's gifts from boys in their classes. You feel insecure and embarrassed. You never receive anything from the boys in your class so it's nothing new. But since it's your senior year you had a glimmer of hope that you'd receive something.

Not only did you receive nothing for Valentine's Day, but it appears that your locker has been vandalized. "What the hell!" you shout as you run over to your locker.

"Who would do something like this?" you whimper under your breath as tears begin to form in your eyes.

You hesitantly open your locker, fully expecting to see that your belongings have been stolen. But it's quite the opposite. Everything seems to be in place except there's something new.

A gashapon capsule accompanied by a sticky note.

"What the..." you reach inside and grab the items. Taking a closer look at the note and the capsule toy, "G?"

You open the capsule to see a cute chibi keychain of your favorite character from your favorite anime. Tears begin to prick at your eyes again but for a different reason this time. Who could have been so thoughtful to do something like this for you?

You take the keychain and hold it against your chest, smiling like an idiot because you received a Valentine's gift for the very first time. You're so happy that you don't even care about your locker anymore.

"But who is G?" You think to yourself. Who in this school has a name that starts with the letter G and would vandalize your locker to give you this gift?

There's only one person that comes to mind.

.˚₊┈ ꒰ఎ ♥︎ ໒꒱ ┈₊˚.

During lunch the next day, instead of sitting by your friends in the cafeteria you rush outside towards the natatorium. Finding Gyutaro in his usual spot behind the building smoking a cigarette. All alone.

"Um, Gyutaro?" you say shyly, walking up to him hesitantly.

The permanent scowl on his face instantly disappears when he sees you and is replaced by a blush across his cheeks. But he tries to play it cool, "Uh... wh-what do you want?"

"Well, I wanted to thank you for the Valentine's gift. I really love it," you look up at him with eyes full of admiration and appreciation.

Gyutaro tosses his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his foot to put it out. He exhales a puff of smoke as his blush deepens, "I dunno what you're talkin' about."

You ignore his denial and step closer to him, "How many tries did it take you?"

He looks away shyly and mumbles, "twenty-one..."

Your eyes widen when you hear his response. He must have spent at least 50 bucks trying to get this specific character for you. And you can't hide the smile on your face as you realize how much he must really like you to have tried so hard to get something that you'd like. He's so much more thoughtful and caring than anyone gives him credit for.

You lunge forward and hug him tightly, "Thank you, Gyutaro! This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me..."

He doesn't know what to say. This is an outcome that he never in a million years would have expected to happen. All he can manage to do is awkwardly hug you back.

His body feels firm and rigid against you, but you don't mind. Despite that, the embrace is filled with so much warmth that you wish you could stay in his arms forever.

Gyutaro stands there, internally freaking out, as you hug him for far too long. But eventually you pull yourself away and look up at the delinquent boy one more time.

"Would you like to hang out with me this weekend?" you say with a newfound confidence in your voice.

"R-Really?" he mutters back, unable to believe his ears.

"Yeah! There's a new arcade downtown that I've really wanted to go to. They have lots of gashapons and claw machines!"

"Alright," he huffs, "But no more gashapons. I hate those fuckin' things..."

You giggle, "That's fine by me. So... it's a date?"

"It's a date," he agrees with a smile.

[adhdnursegoat]

Have fun!

Per usual, link to full story beneath teaser!

Warning: blood play, obviously, and oral sex in full length fic

?

This is too much.

You’re overwhelmed by the sensory overload—the smell of sweat and fear, the sounds of pain and terror, the suffocating heat trapped beneath the blindfold and gag. Every little thing adds to the weight pressing down on you, and you feel like you’re smothered by it all. The fear, the disgust, the helplessness—it’s all too much to bear. You want to scream, to cry out for someone to help you, but the gag reduces your voice to nothing more than muffled sobs and desperate whimpers.

And then you hear it—a voice that slices through the suffocating darkness, male, sharp, and clear. It’s a voice that, against all odds, makes you feel oddly calm. Not calm enough to stop the silent sobs racking your body, but it doesn’t bring the same paralyzing terror that gripped you when the henchmen spoke. This voice is different.

"Ah, quite the pitiful selection you brought me this time."

The voice is confident, dripping with haughty arrogance. There’s a cocky undertone, a showmanship that tells you this man enjoys the sound of his own voice. As the speaker moves closer, each word is a note in a cruel symphony, and you can almost see the smirk on his face. You’re not sure why, but the sound doesn’t send chills down your spine the way the others did. It’s unsettling, yes, but in a way that makes you want to listen more closely, to hear what comes next. And, for some reason, you feel like you’ve heard the voice before.

"They all look dumb, don’t they?"

His tone is casual, almost playful, as if he’s discussing something as trivial as the weather. You can hear his footsteps now, the rhythmic clomp of boots against the floor. The sound grows louder, closer. You and a teammate knock elbows every time one of you moves, a stark reminder that you’re all lined up like cattle. There is a faint rustling, maybe the others shifting uncomfortably, or maybe just the thugs making sure none of you try anything stupid.

The speaker hums a tune, one too cheerful, too lighthearted for the situation. The absurdity of it all almost makes you laugh, if it weren’t for the tears still streaming down your face. This whole thing feels like a twisted joke, a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

"Ugly, too… I’m doing the world a favor by culling the rabble."

The way he says it is so nonchalant, as if human lives mean nothing to him. You can hear the disdain dripping from his words. He is mocking you all, taking pleasure in your fear. The footsteps stop, the sound dying away right in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat, the air around you suddenly thick with tension.

And then, after a heartbeat of silence, you feel his presence looming over you. The air feels colder, the space around you narrowing, suffocating. You brace yourself for whatever comes next, muscles tensed, heart racing.

"Oh my…” His voice drops into a silky purr, dripping with something dark and sinister. “Except for this one~"

There is a shift in the atmosphere, an almost palpable change. You don’t know why, but you feel like a spotlight has just been turned on you, like he’s zeroed in on you and no one else exists. You cannot see him, but you can feel his gaze, a weight pressing down on you, stripping you bare. He is close now, too close, and you don’t know whether to scream or stay silent.

Your mind races, trying to decipher his intentions. What does he mean by “except for this one”? Is it a compliment, a threat, or something worse? You’re paralyzed, unable to move, unable to think clearly. You try to tell yourself it’s nothing, just more of his sick game, but there’s something in his tone, in the way he said “this one,” that makes your blood run cold.

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can feel his eyes on you, like a predator sizing up its prey. The sobs you were trying so hard to suppress start to bubble up again, fear mixing with confusion, making it hard to breathe.

The sound of boots scuffing against the floor cuts through the thick air, signaling a shift in the predator's attention. He’s right there, standing over you, and you don’t know what he’s going to do next. Then he’s moving, twisting his weight to face you, and with a rustle of fabric, you sense him lowering himself closer. The space between you evaporates, his presence invading your personal bubble, suffocating you.

All you can do is wait, your heart pounding in your chest, and the voice that once brought a strange calm fills you with a new kind of dread.

And then, without warning, a hand clamps onto your chin—a grip so cold, it feels inhuman. The sudden contact against your burning, sweat-soaked skin sends a shock through your body. There is a texture difference between the skin of his fingers and the palm of his obvious fingerless gloves. The chill of his touch seeps into you, freezing your breath in your throat. You start to pant, struggling against the vise-like grip, your body’s natural reaction to the overwhelming fear and discomfort. The gag forces your drool to spill out the sides of your mouth. The more you squirm, the tighter the hold becomes until you swear you can hear the faintest crack of your mandible straining under the pressure.

A pitiful whimper escapes you, filtering through your nose in a desperate plea for mercy. But the hand doesn't relent. Instead, the person twists your head from side to side, tilting it up and down as if examining a prized possession. You feel utterly powerless, reduced to an object under their control. His cold thumb rakes firmly across your lower lip, dragging the flesh in a way that exposes your bottom teeth as you bite down on the gag. The touch is slow, deliberate, and it sends a shiver of dread down your spine. Your breath comes faster around the wet gag, each movement of air accompanied by a moist hiss.

Your chest tightens with each huff and pant, the fear clawing at you from the inside. What are they going to do to them? To you? The questions swirl in your mind, but there are no answers, only the increasing sense of doom that coils around your heart and mind.

"Quite the little snack, aren’t you?" the voice coos.

The words slide out of his mouth, smooth and sensual, a stark contrast to the situation. It’s as if he’s toying with you, savoring the moment, relishing in your fear. You can only whine in response, the gag muffling your voice, reducing your defiance to a pitiful sound. The lilting tone of his voice feels out of place, too intimate, too wrong for what’s happening.

He finally releases your jaw, the sudden absence of pressure almost as jarring as its presence. His fingers tap your cheek lightly, almost playfully, as if sealing some unspoken agreement.

"Yes, you’ll do nicely."

And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he moves away. The space he occupied feels actually warmer in his absence. Panic wells up inside you, and you try to speak, try to ask the burning question that gnaws at your mind.

"Nicely for what?" you attempt to say, but the gag distorts your words into a garbled mess. "NIthly her mut?!" you repeat.

There’s no answer, no clarification. Instead, a rough hand—much less gentle than the last, which is saying a lot—grabs you by the upper arm. The henchman’s grip is strong, unyielding, as he drags you to your feet. You fight against him, kicking and thrashing with all the strength you can muster, but it’s useless. He doubles down, grabbing you with both hands, and you feel yourself being hauled away. Your screams fill the air, high-pitched and cracking with fear, each screech echoing off the walls as you're pulled into the unknown.

?

Read the full length piece on ao3: In Vein

[cinnamonest]

Cyno trying to fight off his sexual desires for darling... 🤭

This reminds me of the post I did for guilty sadist Kazuha... consider guilty sadist/rapist Cyno...

Cyno seems like the sort of boy who has absolutely zero history too, so the thing is, he's never really had to practice controlling these kinds of urges before. He's always been so busy with his responsibilities, he's sort of put the idea of romantic relationships to the side, with the idea that he'll get to it one day.

And, partially, he also knows deep down that he's avoiding it because he's intimidated by the thought. See, urges themselves aren't his only problem, the other issue is, for all his sternness and stoicism, he's horrifically awkward with anything of a romantic or, gods forbid, sexual nature. His face feels hot just thinking about it. Oh, and when he's super nervous, his face and voice get extra stern and serious-sounding, which comes off almost like being angry or irked, which does not work well for him.

The one time he tried to approach you and speak to you with specific intent, talk to you in a way that was unrelated to his role, he was so tense and focused and anxious that you stiffened up the moment he said your name, you asked if something was wrong. Then he panicked, and when he tried to explain himself (realizing how stupid it was to have walked over to you with no plan beyond a greeting), he ended up stumbling over his words, making up something about asking if you've seen someone else, keeping his shaky arms folded, and just when he thinks he's pulled off an interaction at least somewhat smoothly, his words of departure go over as-

Well, I'll see you arOUND—

-And he bites down hard at the voice crack, clearing his throat before trying to repeat himself as if nothing had happened, turning around and summoning his utmost willpower to walk away normally and not take off running. And then proceeded to lay in bed face-down for several hours, wallowing in frustration and humiliation.

It's a combination of those factors —a very odd, mismatched combination at that. The awkwardness over so much as a very simple interaction, yet at the same time, deep urges to do unspeakable things to you. He'd be fairly nervous about even doing something normal, and much more so the actual things he so deeply desires for.

Even if he could get over the feeling of guilt for the things he thinks about doing to you, all the depraved fantasies he's long since given up on trying to refrain from allowing his mind to conjure and instead now jerks off to several times a day, he'd still be so awkward, just thinking about it frustrates him.

However, said combination of factors is itself what makes it exponentially worse. It would be one thing if he was struggling to summon the balls to just talk to you and to start something normal, but that's not what he wants. He's self-aware of the fact that his urges are unusually violent and depraved.

He knows exactly where it started, too. He used to not have such depraved thoughts. Previously, he would have thought of himself as fairly normal in terms of tastes and urges, mostly using the occasional piece of adult material he's managed to get his hands on, books and prints that he keeps insistently hidden in a storage bin under the bed somewhere. All that was normal, nothing more than images of nudity with lewd posing.

But you just had to go and present an issue. It was so trivial, it's almost irritating that the inconvenience presents itself, forcing him to use valuable time to handle it. And it turned out to be a misunderstanding, too. Repeated absence, some professor claimed you hadn't showed up all semester, it led to a gradual increase of strikes to your conduct record and eventually, seeing as there were no bigger issues for him to handle that day, they sent him off to deal with something usually left to lower-ranked individuals. Turns out you'd registered for a different section of the same class, forgot to officially turn in the form to unregister from the former, and apparently fail to check your assigned mailbox at all. Admittedly, it was a bit irritating to have time wasted on something that was preventable, had you not been so airheaded, so his tone certainly reflected that.

—and in the future, *please* try to remember things like this.

I know! I know, I'm really sorry....

And if you'd checked your mail, you would have gotten all the letters the office has been sending you.

I know...

It was frustrating. At first, it was just pure irritation being taken out on you. But you just kept apologizing. Bowing your head, clasping your hands together.

I'm soooo sorry, I'll be more responsible in the future, I promise! S-so... please don't get me in trouble...

That was it. He can still hear those exact words in his head, exactly as you said them. The trepidation and nervousness in your voice. The way you bit your lip. The pleading look on your face.

A completely non-sensual interaction. Unpleasant, even. Something someone would have to be some kind of lust-obsessed pervert to find anything remotely sensual about, to think anything of beyond the plain, simple reality of the exchange and situation itself.

That's why it felt so bizarre, suddenly becoming aware of an increasing heartrate. The sudden sensation of heat across his body. A fuzzy, tingling sensation in his abdomen. And at first, he could have, albeit with some embarrassment, admitted to himself it was because yes, you did immediately strike him as pretty, and was ready to chastise himself for not having better control over himself, to let that influence him. In his conscious mind, he intended to merely tell you what you wanted to hear, that it was fine. After all, such a trivial misunderstanding would be unfair to hold against you, and he had every intention on just letting it go and taking any notes of the incident off your record. He was going to just tell you that it was all fine and to forget about it.

That's not what came out of his mouth, though.

I can't afford to have you making more unnecessary inconvenience in the future. You'd be more incentivized if you had some deduction of some kind.

No, really, I don't -- that's not necessary. I mean, it can't be that big of a deal, it's just a form...

It felt strange. Like it just came out of his mouth without thinking. He's normally not that much of a stickler, he's reasonable, and usually forgives first-time unintentional mistakes.

And now you're trivializing it?

N-no! No, I didn't mean it like that, I just...

To you, he comes off as irritated, but in truth his heart is beating so fast, there's this weird swelling feeling in his chest. That swelling feeling surges when your eyes widen and you start to apologize and stammer. The look of sudden panic on your face, the nervousness in your entire demeanor.

You're intimidated and nervous. The little things he says control and change your entire demeanor. Speaking harshly and coldly makes your panic worse. What happens is dependent on what he decides, and you're standing there pleading with desperation. And when he agrees, you sigh a huge breath of relief, thank him just as profusely as you were apologizing moments before.

You're very lucky I'm willing to strike this off your record entirely. Normally, I'd at least make a note of past negligence to fulfill academic responsibility.

I know, I know, thank you...

He thinks about that initial interaction a lot. For the rest of that day, it wouldn't leave his mind, even at night when he laid there, looking up at the ceiling. Unable to determine why he said all that. Drew out your suspense and worry.

But he's perceptive enough that he can figure it out, after some reflection. It just felt nice, to have that degree of control over you. Amusing, endearing even, how you reacted to it all, and a sort of exciting buzz at the awareness of having so much control over someone. That should be something he's fairly used to, but he's never felt this sensation when dealing with anyone else. It's usually just a responsibility that he doesn't have any particular emotions about.

And maybe, seeing your intimidation and dread and pleading was, in and of itself, entertaining. Pleasing. A sort of egotistical rush.

You now recognize him, smile and wave when you see him, despite the unpleasant nature of that situation. He's not at all resentful of you or anything for it. In fact, he's taken a sort of fascination with you since then... not that you'd really know, given it's all from a distance, aside from that one aforementioned time he fumbled the attempt to talk to you normally.

He can't look at you without feeling shameful about the thoughts that begin to sprout — as dumb and forgetful as you apparently may be, you're so sweet to him when you see him, and seem so kind and pure-spirited, and here he is wanting to do horrible things to you, it makes him feel so guilty and ashamed and he sulks for hours... usually before jerking off to the thoughts again, unable to resist the urge to do so. Admittedly, he's hoping that expressing the urges that way will make him more rational and less prone to impulse in real life.

More importantly, he can't look at you without stripping you down in his head. He hates that, keeps trying to chastise himself for it. It's the sort of behavior that's reserved for rapists and perverts, not people like him. But it just keeps happening. Every time he looks at you, he keeps imagining all the pieces coming off, tries to envision your skin, the curvature of your body. It usually serves as a preceding thought to far worse ones.

You're so nice, you've never done anything wrong to him. You have such a cute smile. Your heart is pure and sweet. That makes it so much worse, makes him feel a knot in his chest, whenever he tries to keep the fantasies wholesome and normal, if he can't fight them off entirely — only to fail at that too. It makes it so much worse that, no matter how much he tries to envision you smiling and moaning and encouraging him, once he gets hot and into a lust-crazed haze, it always drifts. Before he can even stop himself, the images become you whimpering and teary-eyed, looking scared, trembling. He sees your arms straining hard against restraints, feels your body squirm against his, hears little gasps and hisses of pain when he reaches down to bite your neck and digs his nails into your hips and so many other things, oh, so so so many other things he could do to you, things to make you squeal and squirm and clench and sniffle and beg and cry. He can hear it, a side to your voice he's never heard in reality, higher in pitch and strained, stop, stop, I'm sorry, please—

And the fantasy always breaks there, because once he gets to the part he can hear your voice in his head is always what pushes him over the edge. His eyes bolt open and his muscles tense as cum splatters onto his stomach, and he's left to lay there panting and staring up at the ceiling, wallowing, feeling like he's the worst person in the world.

It's getting harder. He starts to get jittery, like some sort of psychological itch that can't be scratched except for one specific way, one he can't do. He can't.

He can just barely justify it to himself with the notion that fantasizing helps. As long as he does this, he won't do anything to you. At least, that's his hope...

But splashing cold water on his face whenever he feels weird is getting less effective. He feels a sense of dread, worried about his own self and his own mind, when he finds himself spacing out and absent-mindedly wandering around, but just so happening to make a direct path for your residence. He feels a nagging sense of sickness when he gradually caves to one urge after another -- first following you around, then increasing the amount of time he spends doing so, then using the master key he's provided with to break into your room and lie on your bed and inhale your scent for over an hour, then to start stealing clothes out of your room. It makes him feel sick to his stomach, makes him feel shameful and dirty, but it's overridden by the haze of arousal and lust and desperation.

He knows it's getting worse, and that his self-control is rapidly waning. He comes to acknowledge that he's lying to himself when he reasons that doing this will satiate the desires, prevent him from doing something worse. That it will only accelerate it instead. That it's a matter of time and circumstance from this point forward, and that he's just a step away from going out of his way to create the right circumstances. That he's going to commit a crime, and not because it's the only way he could obtain the physical act itself, but because he wants to, because he wants it to be forceful and frightening and brutal. As much as he wishes he didn't want that, he knows his inner mind does, his body does, he wants that, craves it, needs it.

Maybe he could break into your room while you sleep. Put a hand over your mouth. Keep you in the dark, only whisper so you can't recognize his voice. Then you wouldn't know. Ah, but then, if he had that once, if he could experience that once, there's no way he'd be able to keep it at only once. There's no way he could just walk out and leave you there and live without ever getting to do it again. He has to do something, but there's nothing he can do that isn't a terrible idea for anything but the immediate few minutes it would take place.

What if he just... did it? Without even concealing his identity? Would you tell anyone? Would you not, because you'd think no one would believe you? Would you be too afraid of him to do that? Would you allow it over and over and over, to the point that you would just accept it as your fate? Would it eventually break your mind into accepting him, too?

He doesn't end up having to think it through, or plan it out, or even finally give up resistance to the urges enough to make an active effort to go through with it. No, he gets something much easier. So much so, so coincidental and perfect, it feels like some kind of joke, like it can't even be real, when he gets that knock on his door late at night, freezing up entirely when he sees your sheepish, apologetic face.

I'm so sorry sir, it's just... I locked myself out of my residence hall, I don't know anyone else I could go to this late... I thought maybe you have some kind of key that can get into the halls...?

For a moment, he doesn't respond, and you're almost afraid you've upset him. He stands there slowly blinking, expression blank, staring forward at you, completely still. The silence carries for just a few seconds, just enough to feel awkward, before he speaks — that is, lies on immediate impulse.

No, I don't. Sorry.

There's an odd dullness to his eyes, it almost makes you feel uneasy, but you deem it easily explicable as tiredness due to the late hour.

O-oh, alright, sorry to bother—

You can stay in here.

There's a few seconds of pause. He seems to recognize the somewhat surprised look on your face, and adds,

I have a chair I can sleep in. You shouldn't be outside so late at night. I'll allow you to stay here for the night. It's probably best for your safety.

The words come out of his mouth before he can think them through, impulsive, and hopefully not so instantaneously after you just barely finish your own words that it came across as odd. He can't really tell how he's coming across, too deep into a daze. He can't read the expression on your face either, as if his brain is short-circuited, unable to focus on or process anything. It takes another moment for him to realize he's still standing in the doorway, and takes a step back.

And you know it's strange, sure. But again, it's reasonable, it's late, he's tired. And he's extending such a kind gesture for someone he really doesn't know all that well, you'd feel bad for rejecting it, and thereby obligated to agree. It's only natural that unsavory ideas briefly cross your mind, but for someone like him, both in character and in position, you don't really worry about something like that, you trust him far more than you would a regular guy.

Thank you so much!

He doesn't even nod in acknowledgement, merely steps to the side as you make your way in. You're taking in the predictable neatness of the room around you as you listen to the click of him locking the door back up for the night, and then, the slow, heavy sound of each step taken from behind you drawing closer and closer, as you set down the things you had on you, a jacket and a bag. Your lips part and you inhale just before asking if it's okay to put them where you did, but a hand slams down onto your throat before you can speak.

[hum-suffer]

We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 19

The last taste of love on her tongue is bitter and sour, like a rotten gooseberry. It's pathetic, the way she still craves love.

Gauri wants nothing more than to curl up and be held but she doesn't have that option right now and it feels worse than the fact that someone dared to make her feel so. She feels like a wretched girl, eighteen years and all she's managed to gain in the respect that comes from being of royal blood.

Her fingers and arms drip in the gold chain that clinks with every moment of hers, colliding with her armband and bangles and rings. The small dangling rubies at the end of the chain, that rest on her collarbone, make her throat appear bloodied. Gauri curls her fingers in a fist and imagines hitting Vijay with this hand, the gold scraping off his skin, the rubies becoming redder.

It is with this thought that Gauri swipes her tongue behind her teeth and walks out of her room to attend to Vijay's request for a walk with her. She hasn't bothered to change the saree she'd been wearing the whole day, and neither has she done up her hair in any other way than she usually does. She doesn't wish to give him any special attention nor does she wish his attention on herself.

Vijay is waiting for her on her doorstep, and Bhairav is stoically standing there, face impassive. Gauri notices a red bloom on the jut of Bhairav's jaw, wondering what exactly had happened within the span of an hour that she'd been in her room. She raises an eyebrow at him and he looks down with a minute shake of his head. Unsatisfied with his wordless reply, Gauri purses her lips but she knows not to push the topic in front of Vijay.

"Your highness," Vijay greets her, with a nod. Gauri usually doesn't wish to be arrogant, but a splash of arrogance has always been in her and it sparks and burns, at his audacity to not bow. If only she could kick his legs from him and make him kneel.

Gauri smiles wanly. "Mahoday. How may I help you this evening?"

"Be less formal, for one," Vijay smiles like he's cracked a joke. Gauri doesn't bother changing her expressions. He quickly backtracks. "May I have the pleasure of your company for a walk?"

Ideal etiquette would dictate that she say that his company is her pleasure. She forgoes it.

She nods, for she doesn't think she wishes to lie about such trivial matters, and steps forward. Vijay promptly turns and begins to walk out of the Royal wing.

He's not even making sure that they're walking parallel.

When she does reach enough to walk parallel to him, he eyes her. Ah, she thinks sarcastically. So, the man follows the ancient misogyny of not allowing the woman to walk parallel. Her ego grows wings.

"Royal family members are supposed to walk ahead, you know?" She says, almost purring with how low her volume is. "To show you the way, of course."

Vijay smiles at her, that dim smile that she's come to despise. "Well, I am about to be your husband and hence a royal, am I not?"

A shudder goes through her spine at the mere thought. "Unless you plan to stay at Mahishmati and become Princess Consort, the same rights as a Royal do not apply to you, Mahoday. I thought you'd know this. Since, you seem to know everything."

Vijay puffs up a bit at that and Gauri seriously wishes she could smack him over the head. Goodness gracious, she wonders how on Earth did the man survive.

Gauri wonders how she will survive the day with him.

Behind them, she hears a sound from Bhairav that she can think of as a scoff. He's never made a noise before, in regard to any private conversation she might be having, in all of their years. It tells her just how stupid Vijay is.

Vijay talks about his preferences and routine, back at his home. She notes him as a man of routine, who never strays. A man of plans. She wonders how predictable he might be. She wonders how easy it may be to slip him poison between one of the meals, before he goes for exercise. How it may seem like an accident when he chokes while exercising.

Gauri suppresses a sigh, and lets her breath cool in her chest.

"One day, you will be a part of the same routine," Vijay says, almost soft in his speaking.

Gauri once again thinks that had he not been so misogynistic, he would have deserved love. In another universe, Gauri might have helped him find that love with someone else too. But Gauri isn't kind enough in this world.

If her love is not enough, neither is she.

Vijay will have to die.

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Amar was taught by his teacher that a human heart is slightly bigger than the size of one's fist.

The first moment when he experienced love, is the moment he doesn't remember, but is told of. That moment when Maa lifted him in her arms and named him Bahubali, held him in her arms as she sat on the seat of Rajmata, with Bhalla on the other half of her lap.

With a breathlessness that is dizzying, Amar wonders today, where was Gauri, if not in Maa's lap? Where was Gauri? Where was Gauri?

When he thinks again, he knows he doesn't remember it, but he thinks that perhaps he experienced love first when he was in his mother's womb, with Gauri. Katappa Mama tells him that his mother was sure that she will bear a boy and his father was sure she will have a girl and god granted them their wishes together and it takes his breath away again to realise that the first time his mother must have talked to her pregnant stomach, talking to herself, she would have only addressed him.

It leaves a taste of ash in his mouth.

He wonders if the first love he experienced was the moment he was born. When Gauri wouldn't stop sobbing and screaming until she was put beside him. They are the same age, and he's barely older than her by mere minutes and yet, all he can think of her is that she is his little sister.

His baby sister.

He remembers the first time he lifted her up in the air and she squealed and he realised she was too light. He remembers the times he made her eat something throughout the day for a month to train her body to demand for more food. He remembers seeing the jut of her wrist bone and collas popping and he remembers an assassination attempt on her and he remembers the way his breath caught in his chest as he began running towards the river— uncaring that he did not know how to swim.

Amar remembers being held back by Katappa as Bhairav jumped in the river instantly and he remembers the way she moulded herself to him as soon as he had his arms around Gauri.

The instant trust, the feeling of home that he has for her, that feeling that she too had for him.

Now, he isn't sure she has the same feeling for him.

Gauri doesn't glare at him or any of the other family members. She doesn't say anything. More than anything else, her silence lodges itself in his throat like a shard of ice. Amar doesn't remember feeling so pathetic in his life.

When he sees her walking with Vijay, he realises why she hates Vijay. It's not just about her autonomy. They both know that one day they will have to marry and it might not stem from their own choice. But seeing the casual disregard Vijay has for her, the way he treats her like something he owns.

Amar is surprised that Bhairav hasn't unsheathed his sword yet. Amar knows he wants to. Hell, he's even seen Bhalla break a spoon in half just because Vijay presumed to call Gauri by her name alone.

"Tell me, Gauri," he hears Vijay say,"have you ever been to the West?"

Gauri shakes her head. It's rude, not to reply in words, and yet, Amar only feels vindictively proud of her for not speaking. She holds her stand, even if he can't.

He feels indebted to Maa, for loving them. He knows what might have happened to them, had she not held her ground and loved them in equal to Bhalla. Her love and protection has him kneeling on the ground and Amar can do nothing but watch as she decides to marry Gauri off to this oaf.

"I wish I had a brother like yours," Vijay says, looking away to the palace grounds. "Bhallaldev and Bahubali both are mighty young men."

And Amar remembers again, just how old Vijay is. A dozen years older than them. He calls Bhalla and Amar as young men and yet he wants to marry Gauri, who is of the same age.

"Do you think we would have sons like them?" He asks her.

The mere thought that this man might touch his sister is an abomination. Amar grits his teeth and very pointedly keeps his hand away from the hilt of his sword, knowing that his impulse control is next to none currently. The audacity of this man makes Amar want to commit several crimes.

Bhairav has no such regards. He goes rigid and from the distance, Amar sees Bhairav put his hands behind his back and take hold of the hilt of his own dagger.

(Amar can't keep track of that bloody dagger. It's either on Gauri or on Bhairav. Or perhaps both of them have the same commissioned dagger. He doesn't know.

And the mere thought of not knowing this trivial fact aches him in a way that he cannot explain. Not knowing something about his sister, his precious darling sister. Unfathomable. And yet, true.)

He can't see Gauri's expressions from here, but he hears her clearly enough. "There cannot be another Bhallaldev or Bahubali. Legends happen once."

"Well, then, I suppose it's not too much to hope there will not be another Gauri too?" Vijay says. Bhairav pulls the dagger half way out and Amar has the temptations to join him. There are only three more guards and Katappa here. No one will need to know where Vijay ended up. Vijay continues speaking, unaware of the danger he has drawn for himself. "I need heirs, you see. And a girl..."

Gauri shrugs delicately. "I do not claim to mould the future."

"You can do anything you put your mind to, is that not true?"

And Amar may not know his sister as well as she knows him, and he might not understand her as thoroughly, but he hears the bloodlust in her tone when she speaks. "Yes."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Bhallaldev doesn't claim to be all knowing, but the one thing he knows for sure, is that Vijay will die soon after his marriage with Gauri.

Gauri will marry him, if only for the state, and will make him live enough for him to name her as his heir and then, he will die. It will seem like an accident, a horse going into madness at the wrong time, a dagger slipping from his hands, falling from wet stairs. Anything. And everyone will know but none will be able to prove it.

Bhallaldev finds that he does not care about Vijay being dead. It is true, that to marry Gauri, Vijay had promised that the whole of West province would support Bhalla's claim to the throne, and Bhalla had made an error in judgement and said yes to the man's proposal— not realising that he was dealing his sister.

Now, as they sit at the evening tea, Vijay talks about his childhood. Bhalla hasn't heard Gauri say a word.

He discreetly glances at Bahu and lifts his eyebrows after gesturing to Gauri with his eyes. Bahu cringes and gestures to Vijay with a grimace. It's enough explanation. Bhallaldev wonders if this is what the future shall hold for them— a silent Gauri, who isn't herself at all.

He knows that his father and him are the biggest to blame for her silence, and it burns away at his chest.

Bhallaldev might get the throne, but at what cost?

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Just after she retires from the dinner, Gauri sees the expression on her cousin and her brother and she ignores them.

The walk to her room is silent except for her anklets tinkling and the silver of them shining even more brightly under the caress of moonlight.

When they stop in front of her chambers, Gauri sees the stoic look on Bhairav's face. "What is it that you are thinking, Bhairav?"

"My princess," he swallows behind the words, as if he were about to say something else but reigned himself in. He drops to a knee before her, the empty hall making so that the only witness to them is the air between them. "I beg of you. Please, whatever happens, do not relieve me of my duties to you as a protector. I do not trust that man. I must be with you to protect you."

So pretty on your knees for me, she thinks abruptly and dismisses the thought instantly. She will not make him beg for anything and relish in it. She knows how important his self respect is to him and him kneeling for her makes it all the more important.

He's never knelt for anyone else.

Gauri uses her knuckles to tip his chin and make him look at her as she leans down. "You have heard me multiple times, soldier. You are mine. You're mine to protect and you are mine to command. No one will make it otherwise. Where I go, you will be beside me."

Bhairav's eyes fall shut, as if her words are his absolution and salvation wrapped in one. Gauri leans back up and forwards a hand to him. His calloused hand makes way into her own rough hand, painted with alta, and she pulls him up.

"You are mine to protect, my princess," he tells her,"I cannot bear to see you for even one more day as I have seen you today— withdrawn and quiet. My princess is a woman of power and fire. She needs not to keep silent and let some oaf speak for her. You can command the entire nation with one sentence alone. He does not command you."

____________________________________________________

A shorter chapter because I've been stuck in a slump for this and i have no inspiration nor the proper encouragement for this story anymore. Let's see tho. Idk if I'll abandon this yet. I love Gauri Bhairav too much

Tagging: @alhad-maharani @vijayasena @allizzprobablynotwell @nerdreader @voidsteffy

[idensgarden]

you guys seemed to like my last au ranting post so. here we go

some more takes on classic gravity falls aus because i like reimagining things. Here's my 2 cents on reverse falls, which. i havent seen the visual novel if thats considered canon or anything to the au. i think uts like batman now where everything you apply to it is canon if it vaguely follows the premise

from what i've seen, it's more of a situation swap than a personality swap, so most parts of the au will follow that. but pacifica didn't come to gravity falls for the summer- she had to move here because her stupid dad got involved in a scandal or something and had to lay low. the northwests have inherited enough money to last them a good while, but apparently they can't go spending it on "trivial things", like pacifica's very important designer clothes. so she has to get... a... a... god, i can't say it without gagging, a JOB!!! at a worn down car sales shack!!! hold on. let me add a cut here.

okay im back. alright. at her job, pacifica meets gideon gleeful, who's basically gideon but less entitled, and surprisingly a bit like mabel. he's immediately the most annoying person pacifica has ever met. but he's the only company she has, besides mr. gleeful, who is way too cheerful to be pleasant and gives off major discomforting vibes, and mrs. gleeful, who makes her reflect on the lack of affection she receives from her actual mother and creates a deep pit of sorrow in her heart. just girly things.

(since gideon is much more pleasant in this au, his mother is much more stable, and takes the role of the primary caretaker since bud is too normal for me to write about)

the other employees are bad, but could be worse. the sleepy cashier with eyebags for eons and ROBERT written uncaringly on his nametag, and the overachieving pink-haired errand-girl who seemed to have a different name each time you asked her and a cartoonishly large bow on her head.

the longer pacifica works at her new summer job, the more fond she grows of it. when she's not hearing about gideon's annoying ramblings about wanting to be on broadway and the melancholy of settling for a mascot gig, she's actually feeling this gross sense of pride after actually working for something in her life, and getting sandwiches made for her by ms. gleeful (eventually nicknamed aunt agnes). pacifica hates to admit it and it keeps her up at night, but she's happier here than she's ever been. which is why she doesn't leave when she notices strange things happening around gravity falls.

ms. gleeful denies it, but gideon totally agrees with her- something weird is going on in this town. pacifica, going through an old car with an undefinable model much too damaged to repair, finds a journal in the glovebox, embedded with an X over an eye, and from here, the show plays out a bit like normal gravity falls. give it that unnerving, darker touch that the northwest manor episode had. some early episode ideas:

a full episode based on the what's-his-face comic, obviously without the mystery twins. pacifica gets a pimple, and thinks that since she's starting to get older, she's losing her adolescent beauty, and thus becoming less of a 'valuable asset' to her family. what choice does a girl have but demon magic? i hope this one doesn't backfire!!!

after the last episode, the effects of pacifica's fear of not meeting the beauty standard linger. after catching pacifica staring at multi level marketing get-pretty schemes, ms. gleeful decides to revoke her phone and take the kids camping, saying that technology is evil. it turns out she's right, as pacifica's phone has grown restless after it's abandonment and transformer'd into a beast, which is hunting them down in the forest slenderman-style.

pacifica doesn't believe in the tooth fairy- she's almost 13! it takes her a terribly long time to be appropriately afraid when it gets one tooth from her (gideon convinces her to just TRY putting one under her pillow) and becoming obsessed with harvesting her perfect teeth. inspired by ckret2's goldilocks au!! :)

and then comes episode four...

on her break (thank god!), pacifica sits down to watch some trashy tv, but can't stop seeing ads for this flashy tourist attraction called the mystery shack. at first she rolls her eyes, but the lights and the colors and all the cool effects just look to awesome to pass up. this town must be getting to her, because she'd never indulge herself with something like that before, but now she just has to go. she works overtime for money to see the shack, and gideon uses his allowance to go, too. (pacifica is surprised. why is he spending money on this? he said he doesn't even want to go!!! (gideon just wants to get closer with his first friend)).

the shack is run by a professional conman, who collects and shuffles the money dramatically at a fancy desk, called stanford pines (not actually, this is pre-ford). his employees were vigilant, and yet always exhausted- a goth girl with a sharp tongue and a bodyguard who always seemed uncomfortable in his suit.

but customers really came for the twins; mason and mabel, psychic slash drama slash comedy duo. the townspeople practically (sometimes literally) threw money at them. they were the same age as pacifica and gideon, but had this air of disconnect to them. in all their posters they had the same matching yellow earrings, contrasting their bedazzled blue outfits. their hair also seemed to be greying, even at such an early age.

pacifica was not happy to have spent her 45 dollars on watching two kids read fortunes more vaguely than a cookie and tell dumb jokes and do stupid dances, but gideon seemed jazzed.

the next day, there's a knock at the office door. the twins came to visit! pacifica is pissed. mabel asks to chat with gideon, and pacifica tells her to screw off, but gideon rushes out of the door with mabel, 0 hesitation. he probably has a crush on her for a bit like in canon, but it doesn't go anywhere.

dipper invites himself in, offers that pacifica could offer him some tea free of charge, and pacifica almost thanks him. she lashes out at him, and quickly learns that he is all bark and no bite, curling up like a scared kitten in the recliner. she picks on him a bit, barely noticing the glow of his earring, before mabel comes back out with gideon.

"alright, that'll be all! hey, can gideon take work off today?" she says. "we want to go get makeovers! you know, since we're best friends now and all."

for some reason, pacifica feels a strong pang of rage. but she doesn't act on it, just standing there dumbfounded as mabel doesn't wait for an answer, and gideon skips out of the shop with his new best friend.

it keeps pacifica up at night. she should be important to him!!! wasn't she his first friend?

wasn't he hers?

when gideon finally comes back, pacifica is still angry, but she's relieved. at least that wacko girl is gone- nevermind, she's back, and she's taking gideon out for tacos and pedicures.

it goes on and on and on. pizza night this, karaoke night that, arts and crafts here, a cool party there... pacifica knew that she should be mad. she should be frustrated- she was pacifica northwest! she should be the center of everything, she should be invited to these stupid get togethers, she deserved it!

but she wasn't angry about that. she was angry about gideon. and above all else, she was lonely.

so she did the responsible thing and communicated with gideon about how she felt and I'm lying I'm lying to you right now. she actually hunts down mason, demands that he spill the ulterior motives of mabel pines, and yanks him up by his shirt collar like a cartoon bully. at first, mason won't talk, but pacifica drops him on the ground and gets a good look at his stupid dumb constellation birthmark. she asks him about it.

"it's... not actually a birthmark. it's,, like a tattoo." mason confesses. "it's a long story. with a really gloomy sleep paralysis demon at the center of it. please don't tell anyone."

pacifica has no idea why it's that important, but utilizes her leverage, and blackmails mason into telling the truth because shes kind of a dick. he tells her that the whole mystery shack is a con made up of conmen and conwomen and conpeople, and mabel is trying to make gideon another cog in the cog-powered con machine and swindling him into giving up his family's business in order to expand the shack, showering him with attention and taking advantage of how gideon has never had any friends.

pacifica is outraged. yes he has, she decides.

she barges into mabel's backstage room in the mystery shack just in time to dramatically yell DROP. THAT. PEN!!! before gideon signs a waiver.

gideon is disgruntled, confused, and angry. "you're just upset that mabel is treating me like a real friend, something you never did for me!"

"i didn't know how to do that for you, i never... i'd never done it before!"

gideon squints and softens at pacifica's confession. oh. so she's not actually that mean, she's just repressed and lonely. she's just like me for real!

the two make up and hug, before the sentimental scene is destroyed by a loud "ENOUGH!!!" from mabel. mason dashes into the room to come to her aid, a bit sorry for leaking her plan, and the two use their cool crystal earrings to beat the shit out of pacifica and gideon.

"YOU WANNA HAND OVER YOUR PROPERTY TO ME SO BAD, IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUUUPID!!!" (cool psychic fight)

eventually, gideon manages to snatch the amulet from mabel, asking her what the diddly darn she's doing. mabel sighs.

"come on, gideon! i have braces! those mess with girls' emotions and hormones and stuff!"

"d-... do they really?"

"no, but you wouldn't know, you never had friends!" she towers over him. the whites of her eyes become a ghastly blue, her pupils shifting to a shape akin to a goat's. "come on, gideon! what's it hurt? your dignity? your family? your life's work? we both know you need approval. need to feel normal. like you're not a freak." her words are venom. "i can give you that. there's no reason for you to miss this opportunity. there's no reason for you to miss me."

pacifica is restrained by mason, reaching out for gideon. "don't believe them," she sputters. gideon looks up at mabel.

"you're right. it's just nonsensical. to miss this. miss you..." he takes her hand, as he speaks again.

"not when my aim is just getting better."

he takes his free hand and SOCKS mabel in the face and unclips her earring because i decided theyre clip ons and ripping it out is a little extreme!!! he throws it on the ground and stomps on it, and mabel is FURIOUS. she turns to mason.

"come on, bro bro!" she huffs. "do something!"

mason is still for a second. and then he shakes his head. "mabel, we need to talk."

"NOW!?"

as the twins begin to argue, gideon and pacifica take the opportunity to flee the shack and run back to the car shop. before ms. gleeful makes dinner, gideon asks if he can actually stay at pacifica's tonight.

ms. gleeful is okay with it, but pacifica quickly dismisses the topic. it's the thought that counts, but she didn't want to see her parents at the moment.

"you don't mind if i stay here tonight, though, do you, ms. gleeful?" pacifica asks.

"please, sweetheart, call me aunt agnes. i have a sleeping bag 'round here somewhere!"

she and gideon smiled at each other.

[i520u]

star-crossed ✩°｡ ⋆⸜

twenty-one. today

Your heart was banging against your chest as you reached the quiet playground again. The same playground where you saw Gyuvin for the last time. That was 3 weeks ago. It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen Gyuvin, almost a month since Gyuvin started sabotaging himself. Almost a month since the guilt started eating you from the inside out.

You knew his sobriety is not your responsibility, but you couldn’t help but feel like the change in his demeanour was somewhat your fault. Maybe if you never did the stupid intervention? Maybe if you had just sought him after he kissed you and properly talked it out? Maybe things that may look trivial like these to you in the past could’ve stopped him from becoming whatever he was now.

Summer was coming to an end, the night breeze was no longer hot, but rather gentle. You slowly approached the playground with Ricky, your hands turning colder the closer you reached the playground. You could see a familiar silhouette sitting on one of the swingsets quietly, both you and Ricky exchanging looks before approaching him.

You didn’t have to say anything, Gyuvin was already looking at you. The night was dark, it was 8 PM, but you could clearly see how sombre your friend had looked like. Exhausted, famished, and sombre. You had to stop yourself from running towards him and pulling him into a hug, you so badly wanted to hug him — he was right in front of you, but he felt so far away.

“I thought you would’ve come alone.” He sighed, his eyes falling to his shoes, the rustic noise of the swingset slowly creaking as Gyuvin’s body swayed ever so slightly. Your eyebrows slightly furrowed, you didn’t want to pity him — you knew pitying him would make him feel worse about himself — but you couldn’t help it. You felt sorry for him, and you deeply missed him.

Three weeks.

Three weeks and he looked so different.

“How are you, Gyuvin?” Ricky was the first to break the silence between the two of you. He left your side as he stopped in his tracks to stand in front of Gyuvin. He avoided Ricky’s gaze, but you were unsure why. Was he uncomfortable? Or scared? He exhaled, blinked a few times as if he was thinking of a way to answer Ricky’s question.

It felt like you were frozen in time, you stood there at the same spot, just looking at Gyuvin. A wave of emotions had crashed onto you, and you didn’t know why. You worry for Gyuvin — he was clearly not in a good mental state. But why? He sounded sober, but was he really? Is it your fault he became like this? Was it the kiss? Or the intervention? What do you tell Yujin?

Gyuvin darted his eyes towards you, his gaze felt unwelcoming. “You asked us to meet. Why are you so quiet now?” He asked, completely ignoring Ricky’s question after purposely leaving it to hang in the air for a while. Your eyes widened slightly upon realising that the question was targeted at you.

You didn’t understand why you were so stunned now that you were standing right in front of the person you’ve been having sleepless nights over. You felt tongue-tied somehow. You glanced over at Ricky as he stared at you, he made sure to give you a small smile and a little nod as a non-verbal way to give you reassurance.

Gyuvin let out a scoff, his head dropping once again as he waited for your answer. Standing up, he had a condescending look on his face. “Hey.” He called out, slowly walking towards you, “let’s meet up again when you have something to actually say. Wasting my fucking time.” He spat out, the last sentence was quieter, as if he was mumbling it to himself.

You pressed your lips together. Your legs backing away as you helf your hands up to stop him from walking any further. ���Gyuvin, you don’t look well.” You finally said, your voice wavered a little, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t want him to think that it was a waste of his time to meet up with you. He let out a dry chuckle, nodding to your statement. “No shit.” He whispered, making sure that it was just you who could hear him. “Did you make me come all the way here to comment on my appearance? That’s it?” It wasn’t really a question, and you knew that. It was a taunt.

Yujin used to have similar tantrums like this, you were used to enduring it. Though, it did hurt a little when it came from a friend. “I wanted to meet up with you because I missed you.” You sounded breathless somehow, it didn’t feel good to admit it, and it was also one of the many things that you didn’t understand why. Telling the truth always makes you feel better. Except this time.

Gyuvin had a smile on his face, not the good kind. The smile was more like he was in disbelief, turning around to catch a glimpse of Ricky, before diverting his attention back to you again. “Missed me? You?” He asked, using one finger to poke your shoulder harshly. Your face morphed into a look of disbelief as he jabbed at your shoulder, shocked that the Gyuvin before you now was reduced into some asshole.

Ricky made his way towards you, pushing Gyuvin back and making sure you stood behind him instead. “I don’t know if your brain is all fucked from all those drugs you’ve been taking, but don’t touch her like that.” Your eyes widened in shock, the sight of two friends threatening the thinning patience between them both wasn’t something you wanted. If they wanted to fight, you didn’t want to witness it. You weren’t sure how much more emotional baggage you could endure if they did. “Wow. Making fun of my struggles? You’ve stooped so low.” Gyuvin spoke with a condescending tone as he provoked the two of you even further.

Ricky was visibly angry, his lips parted as he was about to say something just as harsh in return. You tugged him by his arm as hard as you could in an attempt to stop them both before it escalated. “Stop picking a fight with him. You told me that you wanted to talk and fix your friendship with Gyuvin, which is why I let you follow me in the first place.” Your voice was stern as you reminded him, the grip on his arm was as tight as ever.

Gyuvin shook his head at the sight of you and his friend. “And what about you, Y/N?” He voiced out, the sound of your name made your head snapped towards him. “Did you just come here to give me sorry looks and to make me feel small and pathetic?” He continued.

You clenched your fist at his question, your gaze automatically falling to the ground as you were once again at loss for words. “I came here for you.” You muttered quietly, through gritted teeth. “Because I care about you.” You finished, although your gaze remained on the dark ground. “If you cared about me you would’ve come to me sooner, don’t you think so?”

“If you cared, you wouldn’t have shunned me out. I mean, come on. Restricting Yujin from playing Animal Crossing and like, what? Fucking Roblox because you think I’m dangerous?” Ricky sighed, upon hearing Gyuvin’s rant, it was getting obvious to him by now regarding Gyuvin’s mental state. He wasn’t sober — which wasn’t the slightest bit surprising to him — and he was also just spewing whatever. Maybe it was pent up anger, but Ricky knew it was about to get hurtful.

“You would’ve done the exact same thing, Gyuvin, and you know that.” He said, his hand slowly found yours to give it a light squeeze. He wasn’t sure if it was going to do anything, but he just wanted give you some reassurance since he was aware of how guilty you felt for not letting Yujin see Gyuvin anymore.

“It’s kinda funny. Yujin was genuinely the only person that actually showed any sign of concern for me. Not you, or you, or Gunwook. Just some little boy that I was tutoring. It kinda makes me sick.” He chuckled dryly, looking at Ricky, “you see me doing shit that can get me killed, and what do you do? Nothing. For months on end, if possible.”

He kicked the little pebble on the ground absentmindedly, swallowing down the lump that had surprisingly built up in his throat. “You never do anything. Not then, not now, not ever. But you want me to believe that we’re equal?” He deadpanned, his features broke into a sorrowful one.

Gyuvin frowned, he no longer had that cynical expression on him, and it was once again the same exhausted, and sombre face he had when you first looked at him. “If you were in my position, I would’ve done everything and anything to help you. And I did, again, and again, and again, a million times. Gunwook would’ve helped you. Maybe she would’ve too. Why can’t any of you do the same to me?”

His voice had a hint of hurt to it. Hurt, and a mixture of anger. His pupils were dilated, and he was gritting his teeth. Your mind went blank for the first time that night. You came to a realisation — all Gyuvin ever wanted was to be wanted, to feel reciprocated.

“I’m just tired. It’s tiring to be your friend, Ricky. You seem to always suck in everyone around us, and you leave me with nothing. You’re always the star of the show, and I’m always in your shadow. You say that you care for me — that I’m your friend, but I haven’t felt that way for a while. Am I just not worth any of your efforts? You never seem to be there when I need you the most. None of you were.” He sighed.

Gyuvin was less hostile now, what was left of him was purely sadness, “I guess Y/N was the last straw for me. Of course you managed to win over Y/N too. It didn’t matter that I’ve known her for longer — of course Y/N was going to open up to you the same way she opened up to me in such a short time. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you, and you.” He glanced over to you, the glance was only for a second, but you felt the weight of it.

“Gyuvin, I’m sorry–”

“If you’re sorry, promise me this.”

Ricky blinked a few times as he stared at his best friend. Guilt was hitting him like a sudden big ocean wave. “Promise what?” He asked, his voice was soft. Gyuvin looked at both you and Ricky properly for the first time that night. His expression was stoic, but his gaze remained despondent.

“Promise to leave me alone. It was a good friendship, but I want to live a life where I don’t feel like I’m constantly standing in someone’s shadow. Constantly the first to apologise, constantly the one to prioritise your feelings over mine.”

He waited for an answer, Gyuvin’s hand reached out to Ricky’s shoulder, lightly squeezing it. “I’ll do as you say, only if your promise to be clean?” Ricky’s question turned out to be more like a statement as he stared at his friend. Gyuvin retracted his hand slowly, flashing him a sincere smile for the first time, nodding his head. He stood there for a moment, waiting. It was his silent plea, hoping Ricky would say something more, but he never did.

His smile faded, and the hand on Ricky’s shoulder was slowly retracted. Gyuvin walked past Ricky, he kept his gaze ahead. Ricky turned around as he watched his friend slowly disappearing into the night, a small frown on his face as he knew it would probably be the last time he was ever going to talk to Gyuvin.

You didn’t know why Ricky didn’t say anything — why he didn’t try to oppose Gyuvin. He looked like he had a lot to say, but you didn’t feel like you were in the position to ask him. He knew Gyuvin more than you did, and maybe he would be fighting a losing battle if he argued with Gyuvin’s terms.

The blonde boy sighed, looking over to you, flashing you a bitter smile. “I never realised how badly I treated him.” He forced a chuckle out of him, but there was no humour to it. You caressed his back gently as a way to comfort him, “fall outs happen all the time.” You reassured him.

The two of you stayed in the playground even though Gyuvin had left hours ago. None of you felt like going home, and you knew Ricky probably didn’t want to be alone at that moment. He didn’t mention Gyuvin again that night, nor did he mention anything that happened just hours ago. As if it never happened. You didn’t want to bring it up either, respecting his silent decision.

You two finally decided to walk home when the night breeze started getting colder. Ricky had an arm around your waist as you continued talking about many different things. Some trivial and some were more personal. “Can we be together tonight? Can I stay over?” He asked suddenly. You stopped on your tracks, looking over at him.

He had his usual pleading widened eyes as he waited for your answer. With everything that had unfold, you didn’t see a reason to say no. You’d like to be accompanied for the night as well. You nodded your head to his answer, which resulted in Ricky bending down to give you a kiss. 

His warm breath was a contrast to the cold air, the hand on your waist immediately pulling you closer to him. You ran your fingers through his hair as you returned the kiss, as it deepened when you tilted your head to the side so it would be easier to match the rhythm of his lips.

It was sweet as usual, Ricky’s kisses always felt romantic and sweet. But it felt desperate too, the hold he had on your waist was strong, like he wanted to keep you by his side, like you were going to escape. The other hand was holding the side of your neck, to gently guide you so that the kiss would be a proper one.

When he pulled away, his cheeks were slightly flushed, a shy smile on his face as he looked you in the eye. You grinned at him, gently caressing his cheek. “I love you.” He mumbled as the two of you resumed walking again, your house already visible from where you were standing. “Ricky, are you sure you’re okay?” You finally asked, you couldn’t stand it any longer. The amount of times something bad turned worse due to unspoken words — you’ve had enough of it.

Ricky inhaled a deep breath, once again the hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly. “I feel so many things right now, I don’t think I’m okay. For now at least. I had so many things I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t. If that’s what he wishes, the least I can do is to respect it, right?” It was a genuine question, Ricky wasn’t sure if he had dodged a bullet or if he had lost his best friend with the choice he had made.

You hummed at his question, you thought carefully on what to say for an answer. A part of you was also sad that the two had a fall out like that one, you didn’t want to encourage Ricky to stay quiet, but you didn’t want to push Ricky into doing something he doesn’t want either. “It doesn’t matter what your choice was. I think it’s never too late to fight for your friendship. I think the seven years that you two shared would hold a lot of weight if you ever decide to break the promise you made with Gyuvin one day.” You flashed him a smile, which made Ricky smile too.

“And you don’t have to fix this immediately either. Maybe when the timing is better, you’ll know what to do.”

He leaned in once more, this time to kiss the top of your head, “thank you.” He mumbled, the grip on your waist loosened this time, his muscles relaxing for the first time that night. “Thank you for being here with me right now.”

masterlist | previous | epilogue

synopsis ↯ in which you are paired up with ricky shen, who fully convinced himself that you purposely became his partner in order to date him.

𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹ nara’s note: hii i’m sorry i took a while to post this i got really busy! but anyway, let’s wait for an epilogue +++ EXTRA CHAPTERS (you guys can send me requests on who you want me to write in the SCCU <star-crossed cinematic universe>, but if no one sends a request then i guess the series will just end after the epilogue) AND THEN we’ll might have a gyuvin spin off (CROWD CHEERS)

🏷️ ; @shiningstar-byulxx @jiaant11 @justemalove @okkomi @jeonghyeonsgf @blaycke @lvieee @softyminhee @starhyeon @rikislady @raeewe @se0ngmins @i-yeseo @aariiil @daydreamer5006 @ahnneyong @jayujus @girlokarina @aerxz @rikimylove @jisunglogy @pleasantgardendetective @mposkyje @ilovechanhee @livelaughlovelicky @igotkpoops @moonlightjungwon @imthewon @wycure @sunoosluvr @dumb-cxm-slxt @partiallyderived @sparklingsjy @jinkiseason @444yizhuo @wave2love @wtfhyuck @satoreu @huipinkhair @keilovr

[writersdare]

In the Hands of Two | Bang Chan 방찬

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan was grateful for Y/N gifting such strong feelings, but at some point it became unbearable to carry them alone.

Warning: friends to lovers

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1 510

Author’s Note:  I miss describing emotions and deep thoughts of characters, so this one is rather special. I hope you'll like it ♡ Remember, your engagement helps so-so much!

To love someone… was it a blessing or a curse? Chan couldn’t exactly figure it out. The guy was grateful for Y/N gifting him such emotions. The feeling like everything was possible, like he could do it all at once and never get tired. He genially was happy to finally go through something that he only read and fantasised about before, and Chan could bet his life that it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. However, even the most perfect things tended to have their “buts”. In fact, the “but” was a big one, the size of Seoul’s skyscrapers — Y/N was his friend. The constant thought of that fact made Chan’s heart fall on the ground and never come back to a normal beat. How could he mess up so much? It was the most basic and trivial rule the guy shouldn’t have broken, yet, he did. 

Chan couldn’t exactly recall the moment when he realised he fell for her completely. It was happening gradually and then collapsed to the idol suddenly, with all the weight of those unbearable feelings. Funny how love could be so easy when was held by two, and how heavy it was once it was in the hands of only one person. 

The guy’s mood was swinging worse than seesaws he used to like so much as a child. One morning he’d be determined to spill everything out, beg Y/N for forgiveness and maybe for a little chance. Another sleepless night Chan would scold himself for being such an idiot, for overlooking the time when he still could stop himself. As if it was possible to control the feelings… As if it was just a silly anger or nerves, tickling the stomach. The problem of love was that it consisted of all feelings at once. Happiness, pain, fear, joy… The guy looked in her eyes and believed he could fly. Another second, when she wasn’t smiling at him but someone else, the feeling was eating him up like worms on a fresh grave. 

Chan couldn’t control his emotions. He’d hate himself for snapping at his members simply because Y/N suddenly paid a bit more attention to them than him. The guy would hate the fact that she was his friend, and that he was so blind in the beginning, when they first met. If he had known it’d be that way, he’d confess right away, avoiding the stupid friend zone. However, all those thoughts of the past didn’t make things any better or easier. The past was the past, and Chan, unfortunately, couldn’t change it.

Could he change the future, though? Could he actually make another dream of his come true? After all, the guy knew how determined he was, always being able to get what he wanted. With the career, no matter how hard it was, the musician usually — well, most of the time — knew which direction to follow. With Y/N it was completely different, and the guy was lost. He used to believe that he liked taking risks, and yet, when it was coming to the confession, his whole body would go numb just thinking of it. 

It became sort of a tradition to be occupied with that mess in his head, days and nights; even when the girl was around. Or especially when she was around. It was harder to keep a secret, and it felt as if Chan was going to burst up any second. 

"Coffee," he smiled and placed a cup of latte with coconut syrup on a table, next to Y/N. The guy felt ridiculous for being so whipped for her, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

"Thank you. Are you reading my mind?" the girl looked up at the friend and smiled. Chan had always been rather attentive, so such gestures were not exactly surprising, however, they did become more frequent recently.

At that moment Chan was ready to give everything to read Y/N mind, indeed. Just to know if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Or at least if she liked him not just as a friend. He wished he could read her mind…

"Not exactly, I just know you well enough," the guy grinned and took a seat next to her, trying to look as casual as it was possible. Chan couldn’t stop smiling, though, once Y/N’s pretty lips touched the edge of the cardboard cup carefully. She tasted the drink, trying to figure out the flavour of the syrup, and he wished the girl could know how adorable she looked. With her he started to dream more. In fact… what was stopping him to let Y/N now how wonderful she was?

"You’re so pretty," the guy suddenly mumbled. Once the words left his mouth, the idol couldn’t believe he really said it.

Y/N, though, just smiled again and friendly petted Chan’s shoulder.

"You’re always so nice to me."

The musician was ready to scream. No, he needed to scream. To hell with the voice, he needed to let it all out, otherwise he’d just explode. 

"Right," was his only reply. The guy’s ears turned red, and he looked at the screen of his laptop, trying to concentrate on a song. Y/N joined him in the studio that day to be the first listener of a demo. Most of the time Chan’s head was full of music, but at that moment he didn’t feel so creative.

The guy sighed heavily and stood up sharply, starting to walk back and forth and trying to reason himself – he needed to calm down.

"Chan, what’s wrong?" Y/N chuckled, although wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. No matter how cute the friend looked, she could read anxiety on his face, too.

The idol suddenly stopped and simply spilled out, staring at Y/N.

"Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints," he growled, getting angry at Y/N, at himself, at basically the whole situation he happened to be in. 

"What?" Y/N blinked, and the heart skipped its beat. She was staring back at Chan and couldn’t believe her ears. Literally, as once the words of confession were uttered, it became very noisy, her ears were ringing.

"I like you, Y/N," Chan whined, throwing hands up to the ceiling, being simply desperate.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he simply couldn’t. "If she was going to scream at me or ask how could I, how could I break the basic rule of the friendship," he thought. "So be it." It was worth it all. One more day with that huge secret in his heart, and he’d go crazy. 

However, once he let it out, a wave of fear covered the guy from top to bottom. He messed up again, maybe even more than before.

"Y/N…"

"Chan…"

"No-no… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have," the guy squatted down in front of Y/N and covered her palms with his. "Please, just forget it. Just forget it, we still can be friends and–"

"I don’t want to," the girl interrupted, looking in the eyes.

"You don’t?…" Chan mumbled, and his face became paler than usual.

"I don’t want to be just friends," Y/N continued quietly and broke the touch only to change the position of their hands and to cover his palms with hers instead. "I like you, too," she whispered, feeling how everything was shaking inside. Only after saying the truth, Y/N realised that she wasn’t even looking at Chan, being too nervous.

"You do?…" they guy echoed after some time, as if wasn’t sure if he heard her right. Then his lips stretched in a wide smile. "God, I’m such an idiot. I freaked out… Y/N," he giggled anxiously. Chan couldn’t believe that it was real; that finally the love for her wasn’t so heavy. Cause she took the part in her hands, too…

"I was scared, too," Y/N admitted. "We were always… close, but I know how career is important to you, and I didn’t… think… us, being more than friends, would be possible."

"It is. It is possible," Chan hurried up to reassure, looking at her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he almost whispered, feeling the warmth spreading all over his body.

The only one regret the guy had was not being brave enough to tell Y/N everything earlier. The fear and worries were long gone, as if he had never experienced it at all. Funny how things could be easily forgotten. Not the feelings, though. They stay in the hearts until the very end.

"You threatened me with it twice today, but still didn’t do it," she teased him, but not for too long. Another second the guy took a seat next to Y/N and, pulling her closer, simply pressed the lips against hers in a tender kiss. 

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found them here @gnabnahc –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Main Masterlist | K-POP Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

[lobautumny]

So like, there's some really shitty video that this toy saw a while back about QoL mods in Terraria and how if you install all of them and then crank all of their settings up to the maximum, then the game basically plays itself. The whole video was weirdly hostile and vindictive and effectively just made fun of the concept of QoL features/mods as a whole. But it stuck in this toy's mind, not because the video itself holds any value, but because the core topic of how quality of life & accessibility features have a tangible impact on a game's design is really interesting and nobody talks about it with any kind of nuance.

So like, Terraria is obviously a very different game from what it used to be. But all of the raw content (hardmode, bosses, biomes, weapons, NPCs, etc.) that always gets the spotlight in updates only makes up a relatively-small portion of that outside of, like, the tinkerer’s workshop from 1.1, and damage classes being added in 1.0.6, both being relatively-early additions. The plethora of things that were changed/added to make the game look nicer also aren't the core thing responsible, obviously. So what is the biggest reason modern Terraria feels so alien when compared to 1.0.X versions, or even 1.1?

It's the quality of life features. Inventory management got exponentially easier/more efficient, you have a minimap at all times, smart cursor lets you expend far less effort mining and dealing with backwalls, there are special equipment slots for grappling hooks and light pets, grappling hooks are bound to a hotkey instead of being an item that you need to manually select and use, you can use items directly from your inventory instead of needing to place them in your hotbar and then select that hotbar slot, you automatically walk up 1-block inclines and open/close doors as you walk through them, there’s a plethora of features to make getting around the world trivial, the start of the game moves way faster due to the player getting access to better equipment faster, block-swapping exists… This toy posits that this is all why Terraria feels like a fundamentally different game. In old versions, it felt like you had to fight tooth and nail to get anything accomplished, but nowadays, everything feels all buttery-smooth. The main friction you encounter in progressing through the game is with boss fights, as Re-Logic obviously intends.

Now, obviously, it would be insane and stupid to claim that Terraria is a worse game, right now, than it was all the way back in the 1.0.X era, and it would be even stupider to claim that it’s worse because it has QoL features. However, this toy does not believe that every single QoL feature added to the game was inherently objectively positive or correct from the game's inception. Rather, they were natural, smart conclusions for Re-Logic to come to with the direction they decided to take the game in as it continued development. But this was not the only direction Terraria’s development could have taken.

There’s a very unique feeling to old-ass Terraria versions, and it sucks that tracking down and playing these versions is so goddamn hard. You only ever have a vague idea of where you are because there’s no map to use as reference so you’re heavily encouraged to keep most of your stuff on the surface, and to build infrastructure to connect important things underground/in the sky so you don’t get lost. Everything is so unwieldy that building a simple house and making it look remotely nice feels like a herculean effort, enemies kick your ass way harder earlygame due to decent gear being much harder to access, and there’s a lot more gravity to the choices you make in what gear you use, because it’s a lot harder to hot-swap your armor and accessories when you're not actually at your base, which is harder to get to/from due to the world being far more difficult to navigate, as a whole.

This all leads to an exponentially slower game than modern-day Terraria is, where every single thing you do needs to be deliberate and well-thought-out, and everything takes a much longer time to do. This toy remembers spending weeks as a kid building housing for the meager number of NPCs that were in the game back then, alongside farms for all of the potion-making herbs and a big obsidian generator, and all of that could be accomplished in a single play session in 1.4.X.

There is a universe in which Terraria saw minimal QoL updates and instead leaned really hard into this direction, making a slow, exploratory game where the player’s power level very slowly increments upwards and you’re encouraged to build largescale infrastructure rather than the (relatively) fast-paced boss rush where your power balloons out of control immediately and your infrastructure is a fast-travel teleportation network that takes minimal effort to set up that the game currently is, and that version of the game would not have been wrong, inherently. It would’ve been more niche, for sure, but it wouldn’t have necessarily been bad, or even worse than the current game is.

This is what makes this toy sad that old Terraria versions are so difficult to get ahold of, as well as what fascinates it so much about the retro Minecraft community. Speaking of, let’s switch gears and talk about Minecraft for a bit.

Minecraft, as it’s sure most of the people reading this are well-aware, has recently been having something of a renaissance in its retro community, the people who prefer alpha and/or beta versions of the game to the modern game. A handful of complete overhaul mods have come out for these versions (notably, Better Than Adventure and ReIndev) that put interesting spins on the game’s design, basically asking the question, “What if Mojang decided on a different direction for Minecraft to take from this point in time?”

A lot of these mods cast aside the instant-gratification convenience and linear progression of modern Minecraft in favor of slower-paced, more survival-ey gameplay, placing more emphasis on the act of exploring your world and gathering resources as the core gameplay loop as opposed to… Well, modern Minecraft really doesn’t have much of a core gameplay loop to speak of, and that’s sort of the problem, now isn’t it? This toy doesn’t want to get too far into all of this, though, as its thoughts on Minecraft’s game design are not the focus of this essay. Rather, it wants to put the spotlight onto Minecraft’s community.

An ever-increasing number of people have been growing more and more critical of Minecraft over the last 5 or so years. It’s obviously always had its detractors, but in recent time, there have been more of them that have gotten more vocal, and it’s become pretty normal to have the take that Minecraft has been getting worse lately. And a big culprit that people keep pointing to is QoL. One of the most common criticisms of Minecraft online is that quality of life features have made it way too easy to trivialize the process of blasting through the game’s content, getting obnoxiously overpowered enchanted diamond (or netherite) gear, reaching the End, and getting access to elytra and shulker boxes.

Despite both being excessively popular games that have been made far easier through their QoL changes and overall polish, that have both been in constant development for over a decade at this point, the critical responses to those features in Terraria and Minecraft could not be more different. This is amusing, and gets at something deeper with regards to game design that this toy doesn’t know it’s ever heard anyone actually say: Quality of life features are fantastic tools for reducing the noise that gets in the way of a game’s vision, but when you add them haphazardly and/or with no real vision for what you want your game to be in the end, you can very easily wind up accidentally removing a large portion of what could’ve otherwise become compelling parts of your gameplay loop. They need to be used intelligently, or they can, in fact, harm your game and make a significant contingent of your playerbase enjoy it less.

[sidgeno-ficrecs]

this delicate place by @ljummen

sidgeno (2019, explicit, 32.8k) **content notes: mental illness, anxiety attacks, depression, trauma and its aftermath

“Are you?” Taylor asks unexpectedly. “Am I what?” Looking up from the stove, Sid finds her watching him with an odd look on her face. “Happy.” It should be an easy question to answer. Sid has escaped back to Canada after a career ending injury. It doesn’t dawn on him exactly how much early retirement has affected him, until Taylor introduces him to a YouTube channel where a firefighter talks about his own struggles with his mental health.

Hey Geno,

I just watched this video and realized that I’ve had several panic attacks over the course of a few months. I had one a few hours ago. I haven’t experienced anything traumatic, but anxiety (I assume, based on your description in this video) has been sneaking up on me. A week ago, I bought two plants, like you suggested in another video. Today’s panic attack was triggered by me noticing that they were dead (the plants, I mean).

I feel stupid for reacting to something so trivial. I haven’t watched that many of your videos, but from what I understood, you actually experienced something bad. So why am I broken for no reason?

this is a hard time of year.

it's dark, it's cold (if you're in the northern hemisphere), and for me at least, it always seems like the post-holiday winter stretch is when bad things happen. it's easy to get lost in your own head and spend hours dwelling on what's gone wrong, or what might go wrong, and get stuck in a negative feedback loop that can be so, so hard to break out of.

i've mentioned before that i don't love fics that diagnose sid (or geno, but it's usually sid) with certain neurodivergencies because in my experience it leads to people talking about him like he actually has x or y and it makes me uncomfortable, but i re-read this fic last night because i've been feeling down recently and i think it deserves a moment in the spotlight.

this story is a very raw, honest look at what it can be like to deal with depression and anxiety, from the perspective of someone who never has before and doesn't know what's going on and needs an extra push to see what's happening and get help.

depression is a lonely, isolating experience, and that's part of what makes it so dangerous. it's so easy to not notice that you're withdrawing and losing yourself until it's almost too much to climb out of, and on top of all that you've lost all motivation to take steps to get better. it's a vicious, evil little trick the brain can play on you, and @ljummen walks us through sidney's experience with it with care, honesty, and compassion.

this fic made me feel seen. it can be hard to read—sid has panic attacks and we as readers experience them right along with him, along with the other symptoms of depression—but if you're in a space where reading about it won't make you feel worse or trigger anything, i really recommend it. we see sid struggle, we see him be in denial of what he's dealing with—what does he have to be depressed over, after all? what trauma does he have to deal with?—and, crucially, we see him turn a corner and start to get better.

i think that's the magic of this story. sid manages to step outside of the black pit he's stuck in long enough to take steps to get help, and he meets someone who knows him and understands what he's going through, and they fall in love despite the obstacles in their way. it's a story about someone whose life isn't going the way they thought it would, but who manages to see that's not necessarily the end of the world, and for me at least reading this story gave me comfort and hope.

yes, it can be dark at times. life can be hard, so hard that it seems easier to just go back to bed and try and wait it out. but you also might meet someone who sees you, and knows you, and is there for you, and who you can see and know and support in return. there's light out there, if you can peek outside the curtain to look for it.

i hope you're all taking care of yourselves. be gentle with your own mind if you've been having a difficult time. reach out to the people who love you—they want to be there for you, even if you're hearing that little voice that says you're just a burden.

and if you're up to it, read this story, which will hopefully provide you a little comfort and escape and hope, like it does for me when i'm having bad days.

read it here on ao3!

and don't forget to leave a comment!

[mitamicah]

I am in a bit of a paradox right now where I want to talk about something that worries me especially because it has reached the point where I find myself in a freeze like state (you know like fight-flight-freeze-fawn?). My mind is racing and alert but my body is paralyzed ...

And yet at the same time I don't want to talk about it because it is so trivial and stupid and silly and unimportant compared to everything else that is going on.

The short version is that I have to let my internship know that I have been given permission to take a break December 2-4 and again December 16-18. Since there's less than two weeks until the first of these dates I am freaking out because they should need to know sooner rather than later but also I have rescheduled twice already - this week and the next - because of two doctors appointments so part of me want to at least have one of the doctor's appointments to be over with before I throw them another bomb like 'hey your intern is asking for way more than they are worth again by taking a break in one of the busiest months of the year' especially since I just learned today that we have two weeks of break during christmas already so I'd basically have one whole and two half weeks in the upcoming month (originally the plan was that my internship stopped in midnovember but then it got prolonged to late november and now january hence why I had to drop announcements like this in waves ... I had litterally planned as if I didn't have a job to then now deal with the consequences aka being put in a very bad spotlight and omg I have been ranting again I am so sorry making this all about me when you have it way worse.

I should just freaking do this thing but I am so scared of looking like a ungrateful brat that is immature and bad at planning for the future and the internship directly or indirectly rejecting me because of this.

Not helping the fact that I am struggling a bit with body image and negative self talk especially around keeping myself in line for the upcoming appointments about possible top surgery either in sweden or in denmark plus the appointment I have with a study about the physiological effect of hrt where I have my one year check in next week and I am not in a place where I like to be with my weight and that terrifies me because I keep imagining people commenting on my appearance or my weight with a tone that indicates that I'd failed and so it's game over for me and I am not being allowed hrt or surgery anymore and I know this is not how the world works but the thoughts keeps spinning and I am very much not having a great time rn, and I should because how fkn lucky and privilegded I am.

I have had Everybody's Waiting [Joker Out's angsty 'maybe I need therapy' song] on repeat in my mind and litterally for days and while typing this out I definitely feel like we were getting scaringly close to an Autiomaa Light.

Please tell me I am just an overdramatic teenager and tell me what to do. I need somebody to take control of my life just for one minute so I can make a decision then deal with the consequences tomorrow (also great, another day without me drawing anything - another part where I am feeling like a failure)

[wendytestabrat]

the episode that ruined changed kyle's character

i swear we gotta talk abt the episode “toilet paper” bc i feel like s7 was the season that rlly changed kyle’s character, and it’s ESPECIALLY evident in this episode. prior to season 7 (mainly seasons 1-3) kyle was a toxic piece of shit with no guilt or remorse whatseoever and was even worse than cartman LOL. like there was soooo much terrible shit kyle did in the early seasons like threatening to break cartman’s head open in “cow days” and forcing him to ride a bull AFTER HE JUST GOT OUT OF THE HOSPITAL over some terrance and phillip dolls and then in “fat camp” him and stan torment and exploit kenny by making him do all this gross shit to make money off of him and i could go on and on. but then out of nowhere in s7 they changed kyle to the sanctimonious up his ass person he is today who only cares abt taking the moral high ground and stopping cartman above all else. it’s like bruh how did kyle go from being a sociopathic maniac who has no problem harming others to getting upset over literally just TPing someone’s house? LOL i swear in the episode kyle is deadass LOSING SLEEP and can’t live with himself over something so trivial and stupid. ok yeah it’s wrong to TP someone’s house but he acts like this is the worst possible thing anyone could do to someone, when it’s just harmless prank a lot of kids pull (at least back in the day when kids used to actually know how to have fun, now all of them are on their phones). like oh nooooo this family has toilet paper all over their house and has to get it all off it’s TRAGIC. it’s like kyle has done way more atrocious shit that actually harmed people so i don’t get why that’s the one thing that breaks him and makes him go through a moral dilemma LOL. AND ALSO there was this moment in “the ring” when i had re-watched it not too long ago of kyle TPing a house with stan and cartman and he’s all happy and doing it with 0 hesitation. so yeah that was inconsistent AF and just makes the “toilet paper” episode look dumb.

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

Glasses (Stiles)

***Stiles reminds me of the type to constantly be losing his glasses only to find them in the most obvious place, so thus this story was born. He also reminds me of the type to have the worst temper you can imagine if his buttons get pushed enough. So please enjoy a very angry Drew Stiles.***

“Aiello, have you seen my glasses?” Of course Drew Stiles went and lost his glasses again for the third time that week.

“Unless they’re on your face where they’re supposed to be, I have no idea,” Aiello mumbled in his half-asleep state, not even bothering to roll over on his cot in his direction.

He was certain he put them on the crate next to his cot. If he didn’t find them real quickly, he was in deep trouble- not only with Pierson but because he couldn’t even see a foot in front of him without them.

“Come on! Help me!” he whined. It wasn’t like he could just go out and get a new pair somewhere. Everything looked like his baby cousin’s finger paintings without his glasses. If he couldn’t see, he’d probably step on a land mine and get himself or someone else killed.

“Ugh! Fine,” Aiello groaned, rolling out of his cot. “If it’ll make you shut up, I’ll help you. I can’t believe you interrupted my nap for this.” At that moment, Zussman and Daniels entered the tent.

“What’s going on in here?” Daniels asked Aiello, who was furiously shaking out his blankets looking for the lost glasses.

“This lousy mug went and lost his specs again,” he mumbled, nodding in Stiles’ direction. Of all times when he decides to take a nap it gets interrupted. He was beginning to catch a cold and just wanted to sleep it off before it got any worse.

“Where’d you have them last?” Zussman asked, glancing around the tent. They had to be around there somewhere.

“They were on the crate next to my bed, and now they’re gone! It’s not like they grew legs and walked away!” He was getting angry now, which he hated. He had had a bit of an anger problem when he was younger and although he mostly had it under control now, he could still lash out at people when he was mad enough.

“Alright, just calm down. We’ll look for them,” Daniels said, trying to calm the man. He’d already had his head bitten off by him once, and he would prefer it didn’t happen again.

“Have you looked under the beds yet?” Asked Zuss, getting on his stomach to check for lost spectacles under the cots.

“How am I supposed to look for my glasses when I can’t even see where I’m going?” He yelled.

“You could always look for them by braille,” Aiello snickered. He enjoyed making fun of the man’s near-blindness.

“I don’t know braille, you moron,” he replied rolling his eyes. He was already in an awful mood from not being able to see, and Aiello’s jokes at his expense were not helping matters. One more joke and he’d probably use him for target practice.

“Well considering you need your glasses to find your glasses, I’d say you should probably learn,” Aiello quipped. That was the last straw for Stiles, and he immediately began laying into the man.

“This is why your father doesn’t write you, Aiello! You’re so damn annoying all the time! Your girlfriend dropped you because she couldn’t stand to deal with you or look at your ugly face anymore! I’m so sick of you! Everyone who’s every cared about you is deeply wrong, and should have their head examined!”

“Calm down, College. He was just messing around. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Zussman soothed. He’d never seen Stiles fly off the handle this bad before. Sure he’d watched him let out a string of curse words and perhaps throw a rock once in a while, but he had yet to see him yelling at his friend over something this trivial.

“Screw off Zussman! This doesn’t concern you!” He turned and continued his tirade at Aiello, who at this point was very taken aback by the man’s outburst.

“I feel sorry for your ma and sisters! No matter what they do they can’t get rid of your stupid self! They’re stuck with you for eternity! When you die, I doubt you’ll go to heaven, because your presence there will make it hell for everyone else! The fact that I have to breathe the same air as you, disgusts me!”

Daniels was shocked. Stiles hadn’t laid into him this bad, and he had spilled hot coffee on him and the book he was reading. He didn’t know whether to help Zussman contain Stiles (who was still on a rampage), or console Aiello who looked like he was ready to burst into tears. Before he could decide, Pierson burst into the tent.

“What the hell is going on in here? I could hear the yelling clear across the camp!”

“He’s yelling at me for no reason, Sarge,” Aiello sniffed, from his cold or from being close to tears, Daniels couldn’t tell.

“It’s not no reason! You were making fun of me!” The nerve of Aiello, not taking responsibility for the debacle he caused.

“Stiles, lost his glasses, sir, and Aiello was teasing him. Then he just, flew off the handle and started yelling at him.” Zussman explained, trying to play the part of peacemaker.

Stiles glared. How was it his fault when Aiello never knew when to shut up?

“Stiles,” the Sargent said with a sigh, “Look in your pocket.” He covered his face with his hand. How could a man who possessed two college degrees be this stupid? How could none of the other men not notice what was there in plain sight? Stiles reached into his pocket.

“Oh,” Stiles whispered. He pulled the glasses out of his pocket and put them on. All along they’d been there on his person. He felt bad for yelling at Aiello now, who was beginning to look more ill by the minute and still looked like he wanted to cry.

“Stiles, you’re coming with me,” Pierson said, opening the tent flap. “And Aiello, get yourself over to the medic. You look like death.”

“I wonder if they’ll be able to stitch my pride up too,” Aiello joked as Pierson left with Stiles. He started to laugh but it was soon overtaken by a coughing fit. He was feeling worse, both physically from his cold, and emotionally from the verbal lashing courtesy of Stiles.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Stiles, don’t you ever let me catch you acting like that again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again. I apologize.” He’d just gotten laid into by Pierson for letting his temper getting the better of him. Now he was first shift on watch duty for a week as punishment. He hated watch duty.

“Just my luck,” he muttered to himself walking back to the tent he shared with his friends. All this over a stupid pair of glasses.

***I hope y’all enjoyed this one. The lowest a soldier’s vision could be in WW2 was 20/200 correctable by 20/40 prescription eyeglasses. And as someone who’s prescription is 20/40, I like to imagine Stiles being just as blind as I am.***