#something is wrong and I’m not dealing with it

[rottenk1sses]

Dilf art but with a bigger focus on the age gap. He feels SO guilty like he's doing something wrong even though you're both adults. Idk idk.. and maybe he gets really embarrassed with himself cos he's not like 'older bf dom daddy' and maybe even lets a quiet "mommy" slip when yall fuck and and and

cw : dilf!art, implied large age gap, choking (18+)

the guilt chews at art’s limbs like a hungry wolf. a wolf that’s so starved for sustenance that it resorts to consuming the flesh of a man as disgusting as himself.

he tries not to bully himself with the fear that he might have an intrinsically problematic attraction to younger women, but it always creeps back into his chest in the dead of night. he didn’t seek you out, he just happened to connect with you and you just happened to be young. that was all.

you’re over eighteen years old anyway, so what’s the big deal? right? it’s legal. it’s moral ethical somewhat socially accepted. so he shouldn’t let himself feel too bad.

but god, you make it worse with the way you make him feel.

it’s bad enough that he’s decades older than you are, but the fact that you make him feel like an innocent little lamb is a whole other pandora’s box of issues.

the people that can get over the age gap also seem to be the ones who can’t get over the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger. they want him to be your protector; your knight. so when they realize that he withers pathetically into the ground the second you’re nearby, they’re ready to deem the relationship ‘gross’. he thinks it’s laughable that they’d rather you have an electra complex than him be your boy-toy. but whatever.

whatever!

it’s all traditionalist bullshit.

.. but damn if it doesn’t make his insides squirm when he thinks about how objectively perverted it all is.

he even thinks about it when you’ve got him trapped underneath you, choking him with two hands wrapped around his throat as you fuck yourself on his cock. he’s still strong enough that he could easily push you off and take over, but he’d never in a million years want to do that.

he likes it underneath your pretty body. it’s where he belongs.

so he moans raggedly and brokenly when you pull another orgasm from his shaking frame, your cunning smile only fueling his pleasure as the lack of air makes his face tingle.

“that’s my boy,” you growl, rocking your hips at an agonizingly quick pace as if you’re trying to kill him, “fffuck, artie, you’re gonna make me cum again—“

your hands are off of his throat in the next second, letting him pull a hearty gulp of oxygen back into his lungs, and then you’re guiding his palms up to squeeze your tits. he keens, coughing around a hoarse whine. he’s crying. (typical.)

“fuck, fuck fuck, i’m gonna cum-!” your head tips back as the words spill from your mouth, and he uses all the strength left in his lower body to shove himself as deep as he can go, punching the spongy spot buried in your walls.

you see stars; burning waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins and lapping at your cunt from the inside out. art shudders at the way you squeeze around his length, and he grips your thighs tight because he thinks he’s about to black out.

this should be considered elder abuse.

you continue riding him through your climax, ignoring the gush of your fluids over his convulsing pelvis. your hand drags up his chest and then slides to play with his short locks.

“still with me? i’m not done with you.”

he nods up at you; brow pinched and tongue heavy in his drool-filled mouth. he can only manage two whiny, desperate words.

“yes, mommy..”

[httpvomitello]

fred weasley x y/n

Enemies to lovers trope but she uses George to get Fred jealous and it worked but make it seem that George doesn't like y/n too but agrees to do it thanks !!

Oooh, that's evil... And i loved 😈. Hope you like it ~ ♡

Red-Handed *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: You and Fred Weasley have never gotten along. Ever. You’re convinced he exists solely to annoy you, and he’s convinced you’re the most frustrating person alive. But when you start spending more time with George, something shifts. Fred is acting differently—more irritable, more possessive, more… jealous. And that’s exactly what you wanted. The only problem? You might have underestimated how far you’d go to get his attention.

fred weasley x f!reader

Fred Weasley had a way of getting under your skin.

Maybe it was his constant teasing. Maybe it was the way he always had a smirk on his face when you were annoyed. Or maybe—just maybe—it was because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Whatever the reason, your rivalry with Fred was legendary at Hogwarts.

“You do know there’s an easier way to mix that, right?” His voice came from behind you as you stirred your potion in class, his tone dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth but didn’t look at him. “And you do know there’s an easier way to shut up, right?”

George, sitting beside him, stifled a laugh. Fred, however, only grinned wider. “Feisty today, aren’t we?”

You ignored him. You always ignored him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing his endless torment.

Until one day—you got an idea.

A stupid idea.

An idea that was destined to go horribly wrong.

You were going to make Fred Weasley jealous.

And George? He was going to help.

"Are you mental?" George asked, arms crossed as he stared at you.

"A little," you admitted. "But mostly determined."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "You do realize that messing with Fred’s head is like poking a sleeping dragon, right?"

You smirked. "Good. I hope he burns."

George gave you a long, calculating look before shaking his head. "Alright, fine. But I’m not actually interested in you. You get that, right?"

"Crystal clear."

"And when this backfires spectacularly?"

You shrugged. "We’ll deal with that later."

He sighed. "Merlin help us."

It started small.

A lingering touch on George’s arm. Sitting closer to him during meals. Laughing at his jokes just a little too hard.

Fred noticed almost immediately.

His usual teasing became more aggressive. His jokes at your expense were sharper. His glances toward you and George lingered longer.

One afternoon, as you and George sat in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, eyes narrowed.

"What’s this, then?" he asked, gesturing between you two.

George leaned back lazily, playing along perfectly. "What’s it look like, dear brother?"

Fred’s jaw twitched. "Looks like someone’s lost their bloody mind."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Why do you care, Weasley?"

His mouth opened, then shut. For the first time ever, he seemed… lost for words.

Oh, this was too fun.

The next few days were even better.

Fred was spiraling.

He was glaring at George constantly. He was snappier than usual, even with his own twin. And—most interesting of all—he had stopped teasing you entirely.

But the real victory came one evening at the Gryffindor common room.

You and George were sitting close—too close. Fred, across from you, was gripping his quill so hard it looked like it might snap.

"So, Y/N," George said loudly, nudging you. "Tell me again how brilliant I am at Quidditch?"

You smiled. "Oh, you mean how you’re the best Chaser on the team?"

Fred’s quill did snap.

That was when you knew you had won.

The next day, Fred cornered you outside the library.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You blinked up at him innocently. "What am I doing?"

"With George," he snapped, stepping closer. "Since when are you two so—" He gestured vaguely, as if the idea physically pained him.

You smirked. "Does it bother you, Freddie?"

His jaw clenched.

"You know what?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. If you want to waste your time with him—"

"George is a great guy," you interrupted, tilting your head. "Better company than you, at least."

His eyes darkened. "Bullshit."

You raised a brow. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

His chest rose and fell, hands clenched into fists. Then, before you could process it, his hands were in your hair, and his lips crashed against yours.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

You barely had time to react before he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"Happy now?" he muttered.

You stared at him, heart pounding. "Not even close."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Good."

And then he kissed you again.

Fred Weasley was an idiot.

A complete, bloody idiot.

Not only had he kissed you, but he had kissed you in a jealous rage, right after you had spent days parading around with George. He had played right into your hands, and now he was completely at your mercy.

And you knew it.

Which was why, the next morning at breakfast, you sat across from him with the smuggest look on your face, twirling a piece of toast between your fingers like you owned the world.

"Good morning, Freddie," you said sweetly.

Fred gritted his teeth, stabbing at his eggs with unnecessary force. "Don’t call me that."

"Why not?" you mused, resting your chin on your hand. "You seemed to like it last night."

George snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Fred shot him a glare.

"You know," George said, wiping his mouth, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over a girl before, Fred."

"I’m not worked up," Fred said immediately, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just enough for only him to hear. "Then why do you look like you’re about to explode?"

Fred choked.

George howled with laughter, clapping him on the back while you simply sat back, smug as ever.

Fred avoided you for two whole days.

Which, honestly? Was hilarious.

The same Fred Weasley who lived to irritate you, who thrived off your annoyance, was now too much of a coward to even look at you.

So, naturally, you decided to make things worse.

"George," you sighed dramatically in the common room that evening, stretching your legs across his lap. "Do you think I could ever find a decent man at Hogwarts?"

George, playing along perfectly, hummed in thought. "Hmm. Tough question."

Fred, who was sitting nearby but definitely pretending not to listen, stiffened.

"You know," you continued, tapping a finger to your chin, "I did hear that Cormac McLaggen is interested—"

Fred’s head snapped up so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

"Absolutely not," he said immediately.

You blinked innocently. "Excuse me?"

Fred scowled. "McLaggen? That arrogant twat? You could do better."

You smirked. "Oh? And who exactly do you think is better?"

Fred’s mouth opened. Then shut. His ears turned red.

George bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"That’s what I thought," you said, standing up and dusting off your robes. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to arrange."

Fred stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. "Y/N—"

But you were already gone.

Fred found you before you could even think about talking to McLaggen.

It was late, the castle dimly lit as you walked back. And then, suddenly—

A hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you into a hidden alcove.

You gasped, heart racing. "What the—"

"Enough," Fred growled, pressing you against the wall.

You blinked up at him, a little breathless. "Enough what?"

His jaw was clenched, eyes burning with something fierce. "This. The games. The flirting. The McLaggen nonsense. You’ve made your point, alright?"

You stared at him, expression unreadable. "And what point is that, Fred?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That I—I can’t stand seeing you with someone else."

Your stomach flipped.

Finally.

You tilted your head. "And why is that?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "You know why, Y/N."

You did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch—barely, but enough to make your chest tighten.

"Say it, Freddie."

His breathing was uneven. His hands tightened at his sides.

"I like you, alright?" he muttered. "You drive me absolutely mad, but I—I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s infuriating."

You smiled. "I knew it."

Fred groaned. "Merlin, I hate you—"

And then you pulled him down into a kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, kissing you like he had been holding back for years. It was hot, desperate, needy—and, bloody hell, if you had known it would feel this good, you would’ve done it ages ago.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Fred rested his forehead against yours, hands still tight around you.

"No more games," he murmured.

You smirked. "No promises."

He groaned. "Merlin help me."

You laughed, pulling him back in.

"Game over, Freddie," you whispered against his lips.

"And guess what?"

Fred smirked. "I think I won."

[cherriesforheaven]

On one hand you're right. DA4 doesn't take a neutral stance on anything, things are either good or bad. Rook cannot make morally bad choices, or have a bad relationship with the companions because that's not the story they are trying to tell. The story is about a hero who saves the day with their new "found family". 

However, I don’t believe this was an intentional narrative shift on the part of the writers/devs. This is the product of the game languishing in development hell for 10 years, it was rebooted twice, work being cut at the last minute (rip the ideas they had in Joplin). The writers just had to make do with what they had, and what they had was a Rook who is always the funny everyday hero, with a team of ready made friends to help them, the world they inhabit is never complicated by the morally grey conflicts or anything that can make people uncomfortable, like racism and slavery. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In terms of DATV being a devolution of the previous games, and less complex- I'd say yeah it pretty much is. Inky, like rook, cannot make overtly evil choices, they both have a predetermined personality, and their relationship to the companions does start off like work colleagues.

However, faithful versus skeptical inky's get different dialogue choices for quests, faithful inky's can absolve Ser ruth of her wrong doings and have her sing the praises of the chant through thedas, but the only salvation an agnostic Inky can give her is an early death in the Deep roads. The only expression of faith I remember from DATV was my Rook telling harding "Don't worry I still believe in the Maker lace" after we found out the whole chant of light is false.

In DAI, you have an actual approval system, your relationship grows over time or it could get worse depending on your choices. There is a low versus high approval ending scene with Solas in tresspasser. You aren't handed Solas friendship by virtue of loading up the game you have to work for it, like real life relationships. Yeah, You don't have approval system for the advisors, but the relationship still changes based on your actions. Cullen's greetings start off as "Did you need something?" to "I was hoping you'd stop by" when you romance him.

Minrathos Versus Treviso choice- plays out the same, you save one city but lose the other to Ghil. The only long term consequences are losing out on Lucanis' romance and personal quest by picking Minrathos. If you save treviso you cannot choose who becomes archon it defaults to Dorian. You'll either get help from the Crows or SD in the two dragon fight in Wiesshaupt. You get ~poison~ ballistas from crows or regular ones for the SD.

Templar verus Mages choice in DAI- First off, CotJ and IHW are two completely different quests. One of them has you fighting an envy demon, the other has you sent to the bad alternate timeline where Cory wins. In the mage route you get Samson as a mini antagonist, a separate quest with Cullen about it, red glowing lyrium pops up all over Thedas, instead of dealing with just Venatori mobs you now have templar behemoths to fight. If you sided with the templars, you get Calpurnia as a mini antagonist, your war table missions are different. Both choices affect you elect as pope.

You say, "DATV is about what kind of world you want to build" but is it? In DAI, If I want a Thedas without circles, I can chose enlightened Lelianna as divine, if my inky thinks circles need to be reformed then I pick Cassandra. If i want mages to hold a position of power in the south with the templar order reinstated I make Vivienne the new Divine. The epilogue slides in DATV say nothing about how our choices affected the world. It just restates the choices we already made for the companions. DATV is the world the writers want to make, not us. I’m never going to be able to save the south from the blight not even if my grey warden HoF and Alistar sit on the Ferelden throne and I didn’t exile the grey wardens in DAI.

"It moves the subtext into text; it’s no longer a possible reading of the game but an obvious one. It doesn’t just make the political elements explicit; it also adds a value judgment. Being a bigot is just bad."

Finally, this way of storytelling is incompatible with making a good rpg. The choices people make in video games don't reflect back on the moral integrity of the player.  I think the trouble dragon age has, is that since the metaphors are reflective of real world problems, some fans tend to assume that it does. I would not murder an innocent person, I don't believe mages should be treated the way they were in DA2, BUT what if I want to role-play my Hawke siding with Meredith to purge the circle of "would be" blood mages, because they were so traumatized from seeing thier mother turned into a zombie sex doll by a blood mage necromancer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I would never tell a recovering meth addict to get back on it, but what if my Inky is an asshole?, or what if they think the benefits of keeping Cullen on Lyrium out weigh the risk of him dying from withdrawal ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The best rpgs imo, play into the moral ambiguity. They present the player with a choice that on the surface seem good, and hide the negative outcomes of it until later. Harrowmont versus Bhelen, my naive circle mage made Harrowmont king because he seemed like the morally upstanding choice at the time, he's not trying to play dirty like Bhelen is, but this choice dooms Orzammar. If you wanted someone who is progressive, who challenges the caste system you need a dirty political player like Bhelen- if I had brough Zevran with me, he would have pointed this out, if i had played the dwarf origin story my choice in this matter would have been SO different. This is engaging because the player can reflect back on why they decided they would make this choice, what does it say about their Hof? It adds to the replay value. When the choice you make is always good there is no reflection, you don't need to think very deeply to know bigotry is bad the only thing it says about your character is that they are good.

Anyways, I think DATV should be studied by aspiring game devs and writers for how not to make an rpg.

So my radical take on DA1-3 vs DA4 is that all the games are political, but DA4 takes a sharp turn towards the personal. It moves the subtext into text; it’s no longer a possible reading of the game but an obvious one. It doesn’t just make the political elements explicit; it also adds a value judgment. Being a bigot is just bad. It explicitly states that the heroes of this story are decent people, not just Rook but the companions themselves.

All the factions we met before have good people to offer, and it’s presented as a hopeful new beginning—one where unity is possible despite ideological divides. This isn’t a case of simplifying the world or erasing conflict; it’s a shift in focus. Instead of moral ambiguity for its own sake, the game leans into the idea that choices still matter, but some choices—like choosing to be cruel—aren’t morally neutral. It’s not just about survival or political maneuvering anymore; it’s about what kind of world you want to build.

Some people are really pissed off, and some are trying to overanalyze Veilguard as “less than.” The change in making a statement is condemned as a devolution instead of a change in narrative priorities. But is it really less complex, or just unwilling to hide behind the veneer of neutrality? The previous games invited debate about systemic oppression and power structures, but DA4 takes a stance, and many don’t want to investigate why they’re so irritated by this.

[247-diaperboy]

Scott couldn’t believe it. He accidentally peed his pants when he crashed over at his buddy’s place the night before. Yeah they had some shots and a couple drinks so Scott just thought it was a one-time thing. However, his boyfriend Gabe wasn’t so sure. What if it was something more? Gabe said he should wear a diaper the next night, just in case. Scott said absolutely not. That was not necessary. It was a one-time accident and the alcohol was to blame.

Gabe said, “How about we make a bet? Wear as diaper just for tonight. If you keep it dry, then you’re right. It was just a one-time accident. And I’ll give you the money so you can get that new pair of Jordans you keep talking about. If you wet the diaper though, then it means this isn’t just a one-time accident. That means you have to wear diapers 24/7, that means day and night for one full month.”

Scott’s jaw dropped. What? That sounded ridiculous. Of course it was just a one-time accident. A diaper? What the hell? Why would he need to go through all this? Why is his boyfriend Gabe even suggesting this? However, he did want those new Jordans. They looked awesome. Scott slowly debated.

Scott responded with doubt. “Why do I need to wear a diaper? Are you just trying to make fun of me? Where would we even get a diaper?”

Gabe brought him into the other room with some Halloween costumes and stuff. “I have this random pack of adult diapers from the frat initiation I went through. I kept them thinking they might make a good baby costume for Halloween or something,” Gabe responded, pulling out an open pack of adult diapers. Gabe reached in and took out a diaper, handing it to Scott.

Scott took the diaper in disbelief. The diaper was not just a white pull-up thing. It looked like a real baby diaper with bright baby blue and pink print on it. It was plastic and had tapes. It crinkled in his hands as he stared at it. It looked humiliating.

“No way. Hell no! I’m not wearing anything like that!” Scott objected.

“Hey, Scott. Just listen to me. It’s just for one night. If it really was a one-time accident, then great. If it’s something more, then the diaper will make sure you don’t wet the bed. And we can try to figure out what’s wrong. Plus, if you’re right and it was a one-time thing, then you get that pair of Jordans.”

Scott thought. True, wearing this for just one night was a small price for those Jordans. “Ummm… this is weird. You really will pay for the Jordans?”

“Absolutely. We’ll go tomorrow. As long as you don’t wet the diaper,” Gabe assured him.

“Im not gonna wet the diaper. I just need to wear it for bed tonight?” Scott asked.

“Yup. You put it on before you go to bed and you can take it off when you get up. If it’s dry, we go get the Jordans. If it’s wet, then you need to wear these diapers every day and night for the next month and we can try to figure out what is wrong,” Gabe confirmed.

“Okay, I guess. Seems like a weird deal. But getting those Jordans will be worth it,” Scott agreed cautiously.

“Great!” Gabe said smiling.

***

That night, Scott went to go to bed.

“Wait, remember the deal,” said Gabe.

Scott sighed. He was not looking forward to putting on the diaper. Scott started trying to put it on but struggled to get it on right. Gabe helped him put it on and adjusted the tapes.

As Scott looked down, he was in shock and disbelief. It was so weird but there was something comforting about it. Without realizing it, Scott reached down and felt the shiny puffy diaper that wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop feeling it, feeling the smooth plastic and hearing it crinkle with every touch.

“Are you coming to bed or are you gonna stand there touching your diaper?” Gabe asked jokingly, breaking Scott’s attention from his diaper. Scott walked over to bed, aware of every crinkle as he walked and got into bed. The diaper seemed so noisy as he tried to get comfortable in bed.

***

Scott woke up. As he shifted in bed, the diaper crinkled and Scott instantly woke up, remembering everything. He reached down and was ready to take the diaper off. However something was different. The diaper felt different. He threw off the covers, sat up and looked down. To his horror, his diaper was thicker, yellow, and obviously wet. How could that be?

Gabe walked in at the moment. “Hey, Scott. Good morning! How’s the… oh. It looks like you needed that diaper after all,” Gabe said looking at Scott with a mix of emotions in his eyes, comforting, concerned and loving.

Scott was in a panic. “No. Wait. This can’t have… why?” As he said that, he starting peeing in his diaper, filling it even more and making the diaper swell. It felt weird, both foreign and yet somehow comfortable. Scott was on the verge of tears, not knowing what to think.

Gabe sat down next to him. “It’s okay, Scott. We will figure this out,” reassured Gabe as he pulled out the pack of diapers. “Let’s change the diaper. Good thing we have these other ones,” Gabe said as he reached for another diaper. “I’ll order some more diapers right away this morning.”

Scott looked down at his first diaper since he was a baby. His heart raced as he realized now that it was going to be the first of many diapers in his future.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 21: Put on Display

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: sorry if I’m wrong about the statistics on women drivers. It’s 11:30pm. If you let me know how I’m wrong, I’ll gladly fix it!

Masterlist | Taglist

y/n_rb

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, familymember, user, and 1,283,923 others

y/n_rb: I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do anything right enough for you guys…these are just a handful of posts that talk about me like they know anything about me. Like they know what kind of stress and pressure a driver is under — to perform, to make it look good and easy, to please the sponsors and the team and the fans, to succeede...

No. Instead I’m just put on display and picked at and prodded and judged…it’s not something new to me — but I finally have enough of a platform to speak out against it.

You’re not a fan of me, of the sport, if these are the kind of stuff you post. Because if you can casually post these kinds of things about me — I have no doubt you’re willing to start posting that about other drivers when they start to displease you. It’s not fun for anyone to see this and surely it can’t be fun for you either — to have people you claim to hate living rent free in your mind.

So how about you just stop?

(And for some clarification? In order — me after a Saudi Arabia (my first full f1 race where my water didn’t work — I was so dehydrated and tired, it was all I could do to not pass out), me talking to my niece who knew I was probably going to be called away at any second and understood, a photo shoot for sponsors where I was specifically told not to smile as to promote a serious atmosphere, me and yourbff where I was congratulating her after a successful FP1 where we were the first 2 females to race in formula 1 cars simultaneously (making history), and lastly — yes I look like a model there BECAUSE it was part of a photo shoot helping promote the sport to the wider FEMALE audience)

view all comments

user1: go OFF queen

↳user2: literally gagging the haters 🙏

yourbff: at least they got our good sides…

↳oscarpiastri: neither of you have good sides…

↳yourbff: you’re rude as fuck Aussie…

↳y/n_rb: don’t worry babe. I’ll deal with him

user3: just how fucking rude are people???

↳user4: a lot — it’s a damn cesspool over there

↳user3: damn am I glad I’m not on that platform anymore then

alex_albon: very well said y/n

↳y/n_rb: thanks albono!!

↳alex_albon: I’m guessing the chances of that nickname going away is impossibly low??

↳logansargeant: yup

lewishamilton: extremely well said y/n and I’m glad that I’ve had the chance to race against such an inspiration for others

↳y/n_rb: I really should be saying that to you Sir Lewis Hamilton!

↳lewishamilton: Lewis is fine

↳y/n_rb: it is not but thanks!

familymember: your niece wants to say hi!

↳y/n_rb: hi baby!

↳familymember: hiiiiiii auntie y/nnie!!

↳y/n_rb: my beautiful girl 😍😍😍

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @yawn-zi @1-of-my-many-obsessions

[seaslugfanclub]

What sidekicks made it to the park? Iago? Lucifer? Abu? Flotsam and Jetsam? Or did Disney not see it as worth the effort for smaller characters

*Sigh* I Miss My Sidekick, Disney. I Miss Them A Lot.

—————————————

The biggest factor of whether or not a Disney character will be brought to life depends on how monetizable they are.

While this isn’t a big issue with the main characters, due to there always being a sizable fanbase for each of them, the same cannot be said for sidekicks.

For a sidekick to be brought to the Disney parks, they’d either have to a popular enough to be a standalone character (like Kronk) or be so iconic to their villain that it’d feel like something was missing if they weren’t there (like Captain Hook and Smee)

Do you really think anyone would pay to go to the Disney parks just at to see Lawrence? Yeah…. Exactly.

It also depends on if the sidekick could live in the parks, I don’t think Disney would care enough to pay for an entire aquarium for Flotsam and Jetsam.

Because of this, a good chunk of sidekicks were left behind. The only characters that made it to the real world with their villains were; Smee, Kronk, Iago, Gideon, Lefou, the evil stepsisters, and Lucifer the cat.

While the sidekicks were brought to life along side their respective villains, It’s obvious that the company didn’t put much care into their well being, leaving them to the responsibility of the villains.

Despite them being seen as nothing but servants at best, hinderances at worst, the mass loss of these characters was heavily felt amongst the antagonists, and this made the villains that did have their sidekicks become for possessive clingy with them.

These villains were stripped from their realities, the only physical proof of their past lives being nothing but the clothes on their backs. So to have someone that you knew, lived through the same experiences and memories became more valuable than any magic or money. Basically the textbook definition of trauma-bonding.

This is made obvious through the treatment of the sidekicks. Hook is less quick to anger with Smee, and much more patient with the older man’s stumbling. Gaston is rarely seen without Lefou, and while he’ll say it’s to boost his ego, it’s more about finding Lefou’s presence grounding. Iago, despite joining Jasmine and her family in the movies has been forced to bunk with Jafar, and even though there is tension between the two, Jafar is silently thankful that Iago made it. Kronk is allowed to move between both protagonist and villain quarters, he’s long forgiven Yzma and tries to interact with her whenever he can. I’m pretty sure Honest John sewed his and Gideons gloves together seeing as how the duo aren’t seen a foot apart from each other around the park, the fox is very paranoid about losing Gideon.

Lady Tremaine’s become much quieter around her daughters. Instead of picking apart their appearances like she used to, she’ll give them backhanded compliments, which for someone like Tremaine is the closest thing toparental love.

The other Villains, the ones who were brought to the parks alone have all been dealing with their own troubles of loss. Ursula has been quietly stewing in the loss of her eels, her poor little poopsies…. Hades, while never previously enjoying Pain and Panics presence, will admit to himself that he felt some sentimentality for them. And while they weren’t his sidekicks, Hans went from being one of thirteen brothers, to just… him. Even though he hated most of them, they were still his family, he’s the only existing Westergaard now and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

Every character lost somebody being brought to life, and it didn’t stop with the Villains.

Most of the Protagonists were brought with their love interest and animal companions, that’s it.

All of the Disney princess’s who had fathers are going through the process of losing a parent all over again while having to act like nothings wrong.

Rapunzel went from finally being reunited with her parents to losing them again. Now she only had Flynn and Posco…

Pinocchio, who is still very much a child, wasn’t just brought to life as a puppet again, after going through an entire journey to discover his humanity, but was also reanimated without Geppetto. And Jiminy Cricket is not a proper replacement for a father figure.

The Darling children also are basically orphaned now, there’s actually a lot of technical orphans at Disney….

All of this has caused some…tremors amongst the protagonists. The Disney Villains are allowed to act out, expected to even, while the protagonists have to smile and interact with others like their entire family wasn’t torn apart .

While these losses are still being felt, some of these characters realize that they’re not the only ones from their universe… maybe a few hero and villains might make some compromises for the sake of companionship…

[callikari]

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

7. am i COOKED!!!

you were sitting in the living room, your phone in your hand as you scrolled absentmindedly through social media. the conversation with your friends earlier weighed heavily on your mind. it was the first time you had openly admitted to them that you were falling for riki, and the more you thought about it, the more the words haunted you. how long had you been in denial? how long had you pushed down the feelings because you were too scared of messing things up?

it all felt so complicated, especially now that riki was flirting with leeseo. and the fact that he still thought decelis anon was her? that made it worse. you sighed, tapping away on your phone again, your fingers hovering over the screen. but you didn’t send it. you just stared, trying to calm your nerves.

you were distracted, though, not realizing that your phone was left open on the couch when you stood up to grab something from the kitchen. riki, quietly returning from the hallway after a meeting with the committee, wandered into the room. he stopped when he saw your phone screen—your confession to your friends was staring back at him.

idk if i like riki because it would be weird if i do since we were friends since FRESHMAN YEAR!!! and hes talking to leeseo when im talking to soobin AS FRIENDS ??? its soo wrong to see him in this way and its soo hard to even face him whenever im in the dorm with him

he stared at the message for a moment, blinking in disbelief. his mind was racing. she likes me?

there was no mistaking it now. his heart skipped a beat. and before he could second-guess himself, he looked up to find you coming back from the kitchen, completely unaware that he had just read your text.

“yn,” he called out, his voice soft but loaded with curiosity.

you froze, your heart sinking. “riki…?” you asked, feeling the tension rise in the air.

"is this true?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm as he walked closer to you. he pointed at your phone, his gaze focused on you now. “did you just say you like me?”

your stomach dropped, the words you never intended for him to see now hanging in the air like a weight. “riki, it’s not—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupted, taking a step closer. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be mad. i promise.”

you were torn between wanting to avoid this conversation and needing to let it all out. this is it.

you sighed, your gaze softening. you couldn’t lie anymore. “yes,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i like you, riki. i have for a while. and… i don’t know what to do about it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, but here we are.”

riki stood there, frozen for a beat, as if trying to process what you just said. his lips parted, but nothing came out. you shifted nervously under his gaze, unsure of what to expect.

the silence stretched between you two, suffocating.

finally, riki spoke, his voice low. “i… i don’t know what to say.” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, still processing. “but you— you like me?”

“yes,” you whispered, feeling the words hit you harder than you expected.

riki looked at you again, and for a moment, it felt like everything was suspended. his brow furrowed slightly, and he let out a quiet breath. “this is… a lot.”

you looked at him, your heart racing. did he not feel the same way?

he hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “i don’t want to mess this up, yn,” he muttered. “but… i’m not sure where to go from here.”

you nodded, trying to make yourself as small as possible in that moment. “it’s fine,” you said quickly. “i understand.” you hated how vulnerable you felt, but this was what you needed to say, even if it didn’t end the way you hoped.

riki, however, shifted closer to you, a softer expression on his face. “i don’t want to make things weird,” he said, voice gentler now. “but i’m not sure how to deal with this either.”

“yeah, i get it,” you said, giving him a small smile. “i guess we’re both confused.”

he chuckled, but it was a little strained. “yeah… but please don’t shut me out, okay?”

your heart fluttered a little at his words, even though there were no clear answers. “i won’t,” you said, trying to sound as steady as you could.

riki gave a small nod, his hand brushing against yours. it wasn’t much, but it was a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

previous | masterlist | next

AUTHORS NOTE — ooo whats next !!!!

TWEETS TO RiKi — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @annybah @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @pkjay @nishikio @rairaiblog @stta-princess @haechology @aerijns @miniw0nz @httpzsho @athenaisonlinee @rikiscupid @starbyeol1512 @sunooqvrlsx

[del-thetiredwriter]

Warning: yandere stuff, stalking, gender-neutral reader. English is my second language.

You woke up to the annoying sound of your phone alarm. Another day, time to go to work again. As an ordinary Gotham resident, you had a mostly monotonous life, at least until the last few months. As you got ready and stepped out the door, a cheerful voice called out to you.

“Good morning Y/n.”

Your opposite neighbor Richard Grayson, had his usual bright face on, and you didn’t want to deal with him in the morning.

“Good morning.” You replied.

“Are you going to work? Do you want me to drop you off?”

Oh no, definitely not. However, before you could refuse, your next door neighbor suddenly opened the door in a hurry.

“I’m late! I told you to wake me up earlier! Oh good morning Y/n.”

Your next door neighbor blushed slightly as he noticed you. Dark circles under his eyes, a coffee in his hand, untied shoes…Yup your next door neighbor Tim Drake was on his form again. While Dick laughed at the situation, you simply said good morning.

“Thank you for the offer but it’s really not necessary.”

You tried to decline Dick’s offer but this guy knew how to convince you.

“Come on, are you going to walk to the bus station at this hour? It’ll be faster and more comfortable.”

-

Okay, Dick had convinced you again with his excellent persuasion skills. You took a deep breath as you got in the car. That pressure was on you again. The feeling of being watched down to your bones… The feeling of being watched had been on you for the last few months. At your home, at your workplace, on the street… A paranoia that you couldn’t understand why you felt had taken over you. Especially your new neighbors who had moved in all of a sudden didn’t make you feel comfortable. You mean, it’s wrong to think like that about your friendly, helpful, smiling, nice neighbors for no reason, but you swear that whenever you looked into their eyes for more than a few seconds, you felt that weird feeling. Trapped? Suffocated? You couldn’t name it.

“You don’t seem to be able to sleep, is there a problem?”

Dick asked worriedly.

“Hmm? I guess so.” You answered.

“Is there a problem?” Tim turned around to make eye contact with you in the backseat.

“Nightmare.” You answered. Dick laughed at your answer.

“If there really is a problem Y/n, tell me. Other than that, be careful about your sleep or you’ll end up like Tim.”

You told the truth but didn’t answer back and Dick’s joke had lightened the mood a bit.

-

“Dear passenger Y/n, we’ve arrived at your drop-off point. We Grayson transportation would like to thank you for choosing us.”

“Thanks for the ride.” You got out of the vehicle.

“Of course it was an honor for us. We wish you a good shift.” He blew you a kiss through his open window, and Tim started scolding him from behind.

You nodded and headed towards your workplace. The strange journey was finally over. Oh, by the way, he was going to stop by on patrol tonight, right? You could have asked him about this ‘nightmare’ thing.

-

“You got a lot. Are you going to make a cake or something?” Jason Todd, your neighbor next door to Dick , asked while carrying the bags. To be honest, he was the least annoying of the neighbors. He was very polite despite his tough looks . But sometimes he could be annoying.

“Uh huh. I’m going to make cookies.”

You answered. Literally five minutes ago you nearly screamed when he suddenly appeared behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Well, will you send me some too, right ?” He asked with that mischievous grin of his.

“I’m having you carry them so your muscles can be useful. Think this as a workout . But if I do extra, I’ll send them.”

Jason laughed.

“You’re the best.”

-

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wanted to stop you in the middle of your patrol, but I’ve had the feeling that I was being watched for the last few months. And last week, when that thing was watching me at night…”

“No problem, but are you sure?” Robin asked while eating one of the cookies you made.

“I’m not sure since it was night. I thought I saw its silhouette in the dark but I couldn’t open my eyes completely because I was scared. But its face was so close. I swear I could feel its breath. If you have free time, it would be nice if you could take a look.”

“We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” Batman replied reassuringly.

-

…

“We dropped them off at work. But they looked tired.”

“I helped them carry the bags. They were going to make cookies.”

The day’s report was being given in the bat cave after the patrol. Batman and Robin had finally returned.

“One of us got caught.” Bruce got right to the point without beating around the bush as he got out from the Batmobile.

“I think it’s either Todd or Drake who got caught.” Damian got out of the Batmobile with a plate of cookies in his hand.

“Wait, are those the cookies that Y/n made?” Tim pointed at the cookies.

“Yes. And I emphasize, they’re all mine because they were made for me.” Just as a fight was about to break out over the cookies, Bruce intervened.

“There is a more important matter. Y/n noticed one of us watching them at night. We need to change plans.”

“Perhaps it is time for them to move into the manor , Master Bruce.”

[dollfaceie]

۶ৎ Typical.

۶ৎ Summary: He never admits when he’s wrong. It’s never his fault, never takes accountability, it’s yours and yours alone, do typical for him.

۶ৎ: angst | scenario | narcissism(?) | bad boyfriend

“Maybe, you’re just insecure.” He spat back at me in response from one side of the room. The glare that rested on his face never left, as he eyed me with a look is distinct rage. I stare at him, the same anger on my face, I sneer in disbelief. “Me? Insecure? I wouldn’t need to be insecure if you didn’t do the shit you do!” The words left my mouth with a quickness, the harshness in my tone never lowered as I hissed my response out in annoyance.

“Don’t pin shit on me. None of this is my fault.” He was quick to utter a lie. Typical. “If you weren’t insecure you wouldn’t feel the way you do. And that’s not my damn fault.” His words bounced off the walls of the room as his tone of voice slightly shifted.

The expression on his face however didn’t move an ounce. “It is your fault! The entire thing is your fault! The way you act, the constant flirting, berating, arguing! All of it, it’s your fault!” My voice rose to match his tone. Each word that left my mouth felt overwhelming to me. We’ve had this conversation multiple times, each time it’s always the same: it’s never his fault. Nothing is.

“Oh, so you’re just fucking perfect?” He took a step forward from his position by the wall, the once angry expression deepening into something more serious. “I never said I was,” “But you think you are. Don’t you.” He muttered with disgust cutting me off.

The look of love and admiration that was once radiating from his eyes, the look that could be seen by anyone was now gone. And was replaced by pure and utter disgust. I never thought I was perfect, never said I was. I replied with nothing more to his response. My face contorts into a look of annoyance.

“You think all of this is my fault? I’m the so called problem, huh?” The sentence held no emotion, I was over it, the conversation, the relationship. Everything. “Maybe you are the problem. Maybe you are the main problem.” The world ‘main’ was hissed out with aggression as he looked at me. I felt judged. I always felt judged with him, never a moment where I wasn’t judged. “The fuck do you mean ‘the main problem’.” Repeating his words back to him felt like looking into a mirror, and seeing myself in his place.

His face shifted, the look of anger was replaced with a blank look of annoyance, or simply just indifference. “You are my main problem. Everything has to be about you. All your insecurities, your feelings, everything. You are the main problem.” He spoke once again every word was emphasized. The words hit me hard. Too hard, the once angry expression on my face was replaced with hurt and shock. I’m his problem? The question rung in my head like a bell.

“You’re my boyfriend! You’re supposed to care for my feelings, you’re supposed to love me! Or was that some lie you made up for the past three years?” By now I was done with this whole situation. As I spoke my throat felt dry and scratchy, my mouth felt like cotton. “I never said I didn’t love you.” He murmured, I shook my head at his response. “I find that hard to believe.” The look I held on my face was one of betrayal.

I couldn’t deal with this anymore. When he opened his mouth to say something I cut him off. “I can’t do this. All the arguments, I’m over it. I love you .. but I can’t keep going back and forth with you.” It was silent for a moment before he spoke. “You’re breaking up with me.” It was more of a statement than a question, all I did was nod. “I have flights to catch.” That was the last thing I said. Then we parted ways.

Rindou Haitani | Ran Haitani | Kazutora Hanemiya | Hanma Shuji | Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano | Izana Kurokawa | Taiju Shiba | Keisuke Baji | Hajime Kokonoi | South Terano | Kisaki Tetta | Sanzu Haruchiyo | Kakucho Hitto | Satoru Gojo | Suguru Geto | Toji Fushiguro | Sukuna | Light Yagami | L (Lawliet) | Osamu Dazai | Chuuya Nakahara | Fyodor Dostoevsky | Ken Kaneki |Touka Kirishima | Tsukiyama Shuu | Thorfinn | Askeladd | Aki Hayakawa | Makima | Reze | Rin Itoshi | Sae Itoshi | Shidou Ryusei

[blushsturns]

hii could you like make something where like matt or chris (you can choose) and where the reader gets into a little or big car accident and they come to help the reader out while she's freaking out or maybe hurt?

title: wreck and rescue

warnings: mentions of car accident! if you are not comfortable with this theme, please do not read.

w/c: 1816

It all happened so fast. One minute you were on your way to a meeting for work and listening to your new playlist you made, and then next minute your car was colliding with another (much bigger) car pushing you off to the side of the road. Luckily, you weren’t severely hurt, but you were pretty shaken up. Your shoulder was sore from hitting your back against the seat when it abruptly happened, but otherwise, you were lucky not to of gotten hurt even worse. The other driver was somebody older than you, an older woman who was super angry (even though it was her fault) and already on the phone calling the cops.

You stayed in your car, your hand shakingly grabbing your phone with tears streaming down your cheeks and your heart pounding in your chest from the nerves and shock rolling through you. On the third ring, Matt, your boyfriend answered the phone. “Sweetheart? I thought you had a meeting. What’s wrong?”

All it took was hearing his voice and you broke down in tears. You could hardly breathe, choking out sobs and cries as you tried to speak out the words, but you couldn’t. He was telling you to breathe on the other end and to take your time explaining, but that he was really worried. After a couple breathing exercises that he walked you through, you had calmed down enough to be able to actually use your words. “A l-lady pushed me off the s-side of the road and c-collided with my car and now she’s c-calling the cops now.” You choked out a couple sobs, trying to take in deep breaths as you finished explaining. “Please come. I n-need you.”

You ended up sobbing again, not able to form any more words as your body was shaking tremendously from the shock rolling through you. You’ve never been in any car accident before, so you weren’t completely shaken up and didn’t know what to do. Luckily, nobody was severely hurt, but any kind of car accident is paralyzing and traumatizing no matter the accident or if you were driving or not.

You were a safe driver, always making sure to pay attention to your surroundings and drove the speed limit, but you can never trust other drivers on the road.

“I’m already out the door. From your location it looks like you’re 10 minutes away. I’ll be there soon, baby. Just hang tight, please. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. I got you. I love you.” His words were soothing, reassuring, and put you at ease instantly.

You took in a couple deep, shaky breaths and nodded your head before resting your head against the seat and closing your eyes tightly, wanting to shut everything out around you, wishing that none of this even happened in the first place. “Thank you, Matt. I love you.” Your voice was shaky, but you managed to get your words out before hanging up the phone and throwing it back in your purse. You look over to your left to see the woman who had collided with you was still on the phone, probably with the police. Her hands were on her hips and she was yelling about something, but you couldn’t hear anything which you were thankful about.

The damage to the back of your car was probably pretty bad, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. You were safe and you weren’t hurt, but having Matt here by your side would make you feel instantly better. He was always there for you no matter what and you were insanely lucky to have him. He was your safe space and he always knew what to do or say to make everything okay again.

Your heart was still pounding rapidly in your chest and your body shook from the nerves radiating through you. It’s bad enough living with anxiety on a daily basis, but now having to deal with something like this was something you didn’t need to happen to you. You wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Thank goodness you had car insurance and that it wasn’t your fault that the bitch who was driving rear-ended you.

What felt like hours was only 10 minutes later, but a car pulled up behind you. At first you thought it was the police, but then you knew the car would’ve had their flashing lights on. You looked in the rearview mirror and saw a familiar figure approaching your car. You could recognize that walk, and that face anywhere and spot him in a crowd. Matt.

Your passenger door opened and without any words, he immediately pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your fully and you began to cry, hard. You gripped the back of his hoodie to hold onto him. Matt’s hand ran up and down your back in a slow, comforting motion, whispering reassuring words into your ear as he let you cry it out. This wasn’t the first time he’s witnessed you this upset, but you’ve never been this shaken up, let alone been in a car accident before. Your body was shaking as he held you as you trembled against him, resting your head against his shoulder and getting the fabric of his hoodie stained with tears.

He let you cry until you couldn’t anymore, but you continued to hold onto him for dear life, your fingers still holding onto his hoodie. He pulled you away only slightly to level your head with his so your eyes can lock together. You took in a couple shaky breaths, choking on a sob. You realized you probably looked like complete shit with your mascara running down your face, but Matt didn’t seem to think so, or even notice. He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the excess tears that have spilled over against your cheeks. “I’m here, princess.” He reassured you in a soothing, calming voice.

He brought one of his hands up to run throughout your hair, his other hand stayed onto the side of your face. You nodded your head at his words, your body still trembling and your heart still pounding hard, but luckily you have calmed down since Matt got here. “Thank you.” You whispered softly, pulling your gaze away from him for a moment to look out the window to see the woman still standing out there, but she was texting away on her phone with no police in sight yet. “It all happened so fast.”

You used the hem of your sleeve to wipe your nose, feeling like an absolute mess, but Matt didn’t seem to mind one bit. He brought his hands down to find yours and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing your hands gently and placing them in his lap. He boxes his head at your words, using the pad of his thumb to rub against your palm to help you relax. It was working because your breathing had steadied. “I know, sweetheart. I wish I could’ve been here to protect you and keep you safe. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay and not hurt. That fucking woman..” His voice and face turned into anger for the driver who caused it all, his gaze moving over to stare at her out the window who was obviously not worried about you one bit.

You allowed a couple more shaky breaths to exhale from your chest, your head resting upon his shoulder and closing your eyes. If only you could drown out everyone and everything and only focus on Matt and get away from all of the madness that just ensued. “She obviously wasn’t paying attention to where she was going.” You said softly as you wrapped your arms tightly around his body to keep him close against you. You could smell the rich, indulgent scent of his cologne and body wash that made you swoon and feel easily comforted.

“She wasn’t at all and damn near almost hurt my baby. I hope she has to pay millions of dollars and gets her license suspended.” Matt’s voice was full of sincerity as he squeezed your hand tightly, continuing to run smooth circles against the back of your palm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, letting out a couple more shaky breaths to let yourself fully relax. “I’m okay, I promise. It could’ve been much worse.”

Before you knew it, the police came to handle the situation. They filed a police report with the questions they asked you and you explained everything as bravely and confidently as you could with Matt by your side and not letting go of your hand the entire time.

You were able to check the damage of your car where she rear-ended you and it was pretty bad, but it could’ve been a lot worse. You took pictures of the damage on your car, and hers (which was far worse) and exchanged contact information and insurance information from her. She wasn’t happy, but after speaking with her, you realized she wasn’t mad at you, she was mad at herself for letting it happen. Turns out she was already having a bad day and lost control of her car. It could’ve been way worse, but you’re glad that she wasn’t hurt and you weren’t either.

When all was set and done, you followed Matt back to his place and called your job once you got inside and explained what happened and that you were too shook up to come into work. Thankfully, they were okay with it considering you were one of their best employees and you almost never miss work.

Matt didn’t want you to be alone after what happened and you were grateful because the whole thing really shook you up and put you on edge for the rest of the day. Luckily, you were able to spend the night at Matt’s place and he made sure you didn’t leave his sight. You both ordered take-out, watched trash reality TV, showered together, and cuddled in bed.

He held you tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around you securely with no plan on letting go. You comfortably rested your head onto his chest, your eyes closing as you take in his intoxicating, comforting scent. Your hands cling onto the back of his hoodie to hold him even impossibly closer to you. Your legs began tangled together in the sheets, the only noise in the room being each of your steady breaths falling slow, comfortably.

You were safe now with Matt protecting you, loving you, taking care of you and you were forever grateful for him and the love and trust you two have built together that you hoped would last a lifetime.

notes: thank you for the request! if you have any more requests, don’t hesitate to send them to my inbox.

i’m sorry this isn’t my best work. i haven’t been doing great mentally, but writing helps me and i wanted to get this out there for you guys.

i love you all.

taglist:

@strangelife122 @jessie-essie @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @poppingit4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @strawberryghost3 @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniolochrismatt

-nessa :)

[caffeinated-binturong]

Corrective Maintenance

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: You thought no one would notice the sudden decline of your prosthetic but are caught and forced to get fixed up. Genre: Fluff POV: Second Warnings: None Word Count: 1.9k

—

The problem started a few days earlier with the occasional hitch in your step. Nothing serious or out of the ordinary, just an annoyance, but you made a note of it all the same for the next time you went to a mechanic. It progressed faster than expected, though. You could still compensate at the moment but it was getting harder and more painful to do so, and you could feel the difference not just between days but from when you started a shift to when you were done.

With growing anxiety, you were forced to accept this wasn’t something you could ignore or put off. Not that you had the money or anything worth bartering with to get it fixed immediately but this wasn’t sustainable. You couldn’t even say what was wrong, only that something was clearly not right.

In the meantime, you kept being a cog in the Shimmer empire. Officially your job was personal courier employed by a shell company of Silco’s in case anyone was sniffing around. Unofficially it was the same work but for the drug network instead. The irony of barely being able to walk while being colloquially known as a runner wasn’t lost on you.

It wasn’t thrilling work but at least it loosely put you under a chem-baron’s protection.

The Last Drop served as a central hub, the centre of a surprisingly vast network. You could and did take things directly between different outfits as needed but you assumed what you moved required a certain amount of oversight or keeping people in the loop. Not that you thought too hard about it—getting too curious is how you wound up with this job to begin with and you weren’t going to make the same mistake as your predecessor.

How often you appeared made you a familiar face no one noticed, background noise long since tuned out. It wasn’t unusual to be in and out in under a minute with only a few words exchanged. Not even the regulars tried talking to you anymore, which suited you just fine.

What was unusual, though, was Sevika roughly grabbing your upper arm while the bar keep was telling you where to go.

“The hell’s going on with you?” she hissed.

Without anything more specific, your only response was to give a quizzical, albeit alarmed, look.

“Don’t think I haven’t see you trying to hide that limp. You’ve been doing it every time you come in.” Her voice was a low growl and her vice-like grip on your arm was tightening. “If you can’t do your job…” The threat hung in the air.

Around you, a few people were watching the show with interest while others were acting too hard as if nothing was happening. The poor man behind the bar looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Oh, that!” you blurted, recognizing what she was referring to. “My leg���s been acting up and I haven’t been able to get it checked out yet.” You give a half shrug with your free shoulder, playing it off as no big deal.

“… Why didn’t you say so? Follow me,” she said after searching your face and eyeing those watching. She let go and the sudden release sent blood you didn’t know was missing rushing back into the limb. That will be a nice bruise later you thought, flexing fingers as you trotted up stairs after her.

That’s how you found yourself in your Boss’ office with your superior hunched over your leg.

Various tools were spread out on the table that was also helping prop up your leg. The couch you sat on was plusher than you were used to and who even framed their paintings and hung them in such a lavish manner? The room itself even smelled important. Everything screamed you weren’t supposed to be here and your face must have reflected that.

“Relax, Silco’ll be out all day,” says Sevika, elbow-deep in machine guts.

“I’m not supposed to be up here.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was almost done for the day anyway. I’ll go.”

“Now that… that’s not fine,” she sighs with exasperation. You couldn’t feel it but you saw the way Sevika’s mechanical hand flexed around your metal shin, locking you in place if you tried to bolt. You were stuck here and it did nothing to calm you down. Sevika mutters to herself about something and grabs a different tool, seemingly forgetting you, but her hold doesn’t lessen just yet.

Without being able to leave and not having anything useful to say, all you can do is watch your senior deftly rummage around your leg. The rhythmic tapping of metal against metal, the occasional curse under the breath, and cigar smoke wafting in and out ends up lulling you into a trance despite your unease. Without noticing, you start to nod off.

You jolt awake when you notice Sevika fully turned on her stool as she looks pointedly at you.

“Uh, sorry. Say again?”

“I asked,” she turns back to do something with your ankle joint, “when did you get this?”

“Oh, a few years back.” You could still remember every detail from when that ceiling collapsed and crushed your lower leg. You could still feel it if you wanted to, not that you wanted to.

“Looks older than that.”

“Might be.” It definitely was. It had happened before you started working for Silco, back when you still lived in a particularly destitute part of Zaun and worked mines deemed too unsafe to work. Sevika lets it drop there and you’re glad for that. It’s not that you were still raw about the subject but you were used to snide comments about the tech, as if it was so easy to get where you’re from or you weren’t aware of how ancient it really was.

Silence on the matter instead of prodding questions was a nice change.

“Don’t you have to keep an eye on the bar?” you ask, realizing the time and not wanting to still be there when Silco returned.

“The others can handle it for now. It’s a slow day and won’t pick up until later,” she shrugs.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Boredom?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation but that’s how it comes out. Your stomach drops.

Sevika slowly turns to look at you, not quite believing what you said. Her harsh gaze alone is enough to lock you in place this time.

“I’m doing this because some fool thought they could still work despite barely being able to walk,” she snaps. “You put others at risk with your stunt and I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” A dangerous energy hangs in the air.

“Sorry,” you mumble, averting your eyes and feeling redness crawl up your neck.

She huffs at that—at you—before turning back once again. You expect to be kicked out, fired, banned from the bar, something. People had lost their heads for less and there was no reason to think you were an exception.

But nothing happens. It still feels too combustible in the room, as if one wrong word would ignite everything, but it’s clear you’re allowed to stay.

Truthfully you’re glad for what Sevika was doing even if you would have preferred it to be somewhere else—even the leers and commentary from downstairs would have been better. You had never been mechanically inclined but even if you were, the prosthetic couldn’t be disconnected and working on it yourself required more flexibility than you possessed. You learned early on to grit your teeth and deal with any problems as they came up.

You had even had issues before while working for Silco. Not as serious as this but no one ever said anything, it’s why you thought you could get away with it this time. That and you had to keep working if you wanted to get it fixed, and it’s not like you could request desk duty in the meantime.

“Hey, Sevika,” you carefully broach once the tension dissipates enough.

“Hmm?”

“I just wanted to say thanks. Formally and all that. It would have been a bit before I could have seen someone.”

“You’d have been lucky to make it a couple more days without the whole thing giving out. Shit’s busted in multiple ways.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No shit. It’s more patch job than original.”

“Makes sense. I got it as a teen and it wasn’t new then.” It still amazed you that you got it at all when you thought about it. Prosthetics were a luxury where you grew up, it was far more common to see people missing body parts completely.

She gives a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was old. Can’t say how much longer it will last.”

“It’s not like I can afford a new one,” you sigh, knowing how this conversation will go

“If those mechanics you’ve been seeing weren’t so eager to take your money, you could,” she says. “It’s clear there’s no point continually repairing it at this point.”

You frown at the idea you’ve been swindled all this time. It wasn’t like there was a new problem every month and obviously something so old with daily wear would have issues… It didn’t sit right but you couldn’t deny it either.

“I don’t mean to push,” Sevika continues, “but you really should consider a replacement.”

You only grunt. It’s not your fault the finances never work out.

“Besides, if you don’t I’ll have to pull you. Can’t have a courier who can’t walk.” She slaps the compartment shut in victory. “See how it feels.”

After carefully standing up, you tentatively see if it will even support you but it holds without complaint. Emboldened, you to risk a few steps, the catches and grinding you were used to were gloriously absent—your gait was smooth, the actuators properly adjusting.

And it held.

“It works!” you exclaim, unable to hide the grin on your face.

“You doubted me?” Sevika raises an eyebrow. Her posture is casual but her eyes are all business, assessing the result of her work.

“No!” you’re quick to respond but Sevika’s eyebrow only arches higher at the obvious lie. “Okay, maybe a bit,” you add sheepishly.

“It wasn’t easy,” Sevika responds with a chuckle. Deciding you weren’t going to fall over any time soon, she switches to the formality you were used to. “Come on, we should head back down. You aren’t done yet, either.” Without waiting for a response, she’s out the office door.

Back in the main area, the two of you go your separate ways. The bartender hands you a sealed folder for the second time and reminds you where to take it, unsure if you remembered. With new orders, you go to head out but not before giving Sevika a small nod—she’s back at her usual table—but she barely glances at you. What she does do, however, is give a brief swirl of whatever was in her glass. It was small and might have been coincidence but you want to think it was a response.

Out on the street, you allow yourself to smile. You weren’t done for the day and the sun was already setting behind the evening haze but a growing weight had been lifted.

—

A/N: So many Mechanic!Reader fics about fixing Sevika’s arm and Mechanic!Sevika AUs, how about one where she fixes Reader? That’s it, that was my thought process.

[shanklin]

Okay but for the sad relavitvity au,

I’m incredibly interested in Stan closing himself off, emotionally from Ford, Mabel and Dipper.

He’s a kid who’s hurt, and his life is a mess,

I think Mabel and Dipper would feel extremely guilty about what they unknowingly taught Stan.

There’s lasting consequences, and the damage has been done.

And trust definitely has to rebuilt.

ALSO CARYN!! I wonder if she’s sees what has become of her son, her son who looks back at her with jaded eyes, shaped by the world that hurt him.

Does Stan after he murders Filbrick, live on the streets for a while? Does he meet Rico?

How angsty can we make this? Hehehehhehe!

The Context

"There’s lasting consequences, and the damage has been done."

I definitely agree with you there. 

And even without the extra baggage of them teaching Stan the exact wrong lessons, Stan would be an absolute mess after years alone with Filbrick. 

Stan would’ve still at least tried to downplay it, maybe only opening up to Ford.

But as it is now? He’s sure they would agree with Filbricks methods and even welcome them. It was all for Stan's benefit after all. He needs a strong guiding hand and lots of discipline.

[Dipper and Mabel of course have no clue what's actually going on and make it worse by believing Filbrick and having next no actual communication with Stan]

Shameless Plug for @emiliens fic where this whole miscommunication mess is written out perfectly

If they were to find Stan and get him back, they would need so much therapy to get through this.

But who needs therapy. We’re in fanfic land! Drama and Angst is the only way to move forward ♡.

Stan would just have them make an appointment and never show up and Mabel and Dipper would still need some time before they realise they should probably try therapy as well.

Uhh, what if they realise they fucked up in letting Stan stay alone with Filbrick and not checking up on him, but they still have no clue that their whole shtick about projecting themselves on the younger twins is the root cause as to why Stan never reached out. Not even to Ford.

Hell, maybe they mess up again and accidentally blame Stan for not asking his friends for help.

Stan just stares at them blankly and leaves the room.

He barely talks to and avoids them. 

They think he's annoyed at them for trying to help and apologize. And that's quite rude actually. They're doing their best! 

[Or maybe they just can’t deal with all the guilt right and want it all to be better immediately, not realising there is no quick fix for something this broken.]

Stan of course doesn’t want to be a bother. He’s also scared of messing up and has no idea what to do with himself. The flashbacks and nightmares he hides from everyone are eating him alive.

And he’s angry all the time. Angry at his father, his family, the world, but he’s not allowed to be angry at home. He mustn’t lash out or shout or punch. The last time he did that it ended with a dead father and a murder investigation. So he goes outside and gets himself into fights. 

Being beaten up and sore all over, now that’s the only therapy Stand needs! It’s the only thing that helps him fall asleep these days. He needs to be punished for what he’s done and how he’s behaving. And if Mabel and Dipper won’t do it, Stan has to do it for them. So he keeps getting into fights and doesn’t dodge as many hits as he could.

[All of this would also be so fun to explore in a version where Filbrick is just in a coma, Stan is not suspected of anything and he’s only in Gravity Falls until Filbrick leaves the hospital. Stan has an undetermined deadline and somehow that deadline feels more literal than it should.]

"ALSO CARYN!! I wonder if she’s sees what has become of her son, her son who looks back at her with jaded eyes, shaped by the world that hurt him."

As for Caryn… I’m always a bit annoyed when there is yet another fictional Mom who is perfect and just loves her children and her hugs can make anything magically better ♡. I want more bad or flawed mothers in fiction. But dear Caryn just had to be the only person in canon who asked “What about Stanley?” and actually came to his funeral so I can’t have her be too awful. Unfortunately :(

She was left with a choice during the divorce proceedings. Either take Shermie or Stanley. 

She chose Shermie. Stan wasn’t surprised. No one ever chooses Stan. He wouldn’t chose himself either. And his little brother needs their mother more than he does. Stan will be fine and they can still talk over the phone.

Only Caryn never calls or at least that’s what Filbrick tells Stanley. Phone privileges are to be earned and Stan is very bad at being good enough to warrant those.

Caryn on the other hand choses to believe Filbrick when he tells her that Stan doesn’t want to talk with her anymore. She did leave him behind after all. And when she hears from Ford that Stan didn’t want to meet him either, it just proves her right.

She refuses to consider the alternative that Filbrick is isolating her little free spirit and forbidding him to see his loved ones.

So she lies to herself that Stan’s just a teenage boy going through a phase and puts all her effort into raising Shermie right instead.

When it all comes crashing down and they find Stanley and take him back to Gravity Falls she rushes to meet him and is horrified by what she finds.

He just stares at her blankly and won’t lift his arms when she moves in for a hug.

That's not her Stanley! That’s an impostor. He’s possessed. WHAT HAS HE DONE TO STANLEY!

Long story short: She’s not taking it well, leaves Gravity Falls and is in denial for a while longer until it hits her just how much she’s really been lying to herself all these years 👍

"Does Stan after he murders Filbrick, live on the streets for a while? Does he meet Rico?"

There are so many different things as to how it could go for Stan after he runs away. 

Will he get a break and find himself some good old found family? 

Will he embrace the criminal life? Will he get forced into it? 

Join a biker gang? 

Get captured and go to prison where he starts drawing comics again and becomes a best selling comic book artist? 

Will he be a drug runner for Rico as a necessity to survive and replace one awful father figure with another? 

Or is Rico an evil drug lord but also a fantastic father who loves and supports his newly adopted son very much and Stan will see Ford again when they both accidentally get assigned the same room at West Coast Tech?

Will it all go more or less like it did in canon and Stan receives a postcard over a decade later asking him to please come because Ford built a doomsday device and needs someone to hide his journal?

Or will Ford go investigate and find signs of supernatural interference at their home. As a result he obsesses about solving the mystery and becomes a world renowned private detective specialising in the occult with the goal of finding his brother and clearing his name. But as the years go by the evidence against Stanley Pines becomes more and more damning, Ford has to struggle with the fact that maybe Stan really went dark and joined the very thing Ford is trying to fight against. Or maybe nothing is as black and white as Ford's triangular partner wants him to believe. <- that one is just my pitch for a TV spin off series 

What I’m trying to say is, please don’t make me choose just one idea XD. Tell me yours if you have one! 

How angsty can we make this? Hehehehhehe!

yes.

[jessthebaker]

By the Gods

This is for the gorgeous @beefrobeefcal 's Half Bricked, Wrong Time February Prompt Challenge!

I've never written for Oberyn before, this is barely titled, no beta, minimal editing, I don't know if it's crack or serious or both, but I'm yeeting this out into the world and running away again. Enjoy!

word count 1.6k

rating: Mature (duh, it's Oberyn)

“Oh, Seven, not again.” Oberyn mutters as he opens his email and sees a message from HR waiting for him. It’s right at the very top, with the little red exclamation marks to denote High Importance. Oberyn hates those exclamation marks. They only seem to turn up when he’s done something that he deems (personally) perfectly appropriate. But HR never seems to think so.

The head of HR is a man Oberyn loathes but can’t seem to get away from. Oberyn doesn’t hate his job, rather he quite likes it. He likes what he does and he’s good at it. But dealing with HR is another story.

The HR manager, Ty Lane, is an older man with a bad case of resting grump face. He constantly looked as if, if he wore glasses, he’d be glaring at you over the top of them. Quietly, Oberyn thinks Ty looks like an angry, elderly lion.

Oberyn sighs as he skims over the details of Ty’s email. Date, time, place, all the usual. Current infraction: ‘Inappropriate workplace relations’. What else was new? Oberyn has a feeling he knows which particular circumstance this one was referencing.

Last week he had been daydreaming at his desk when he noticed you walking past his cubicle. Of course he noticed you. He found you incredibly attractive; the way you walked, the confidence with which you moved, the defiance in your eyes that said “I’m here and if you don’t like it, fuck off.” Oberyn appreciated confidence.

You were fairly new in the office. He hadn’t seen you around before about last month, yet you had already made a name for yourself though with the quality of the work you turned in. The management were impressed with your quiet efficiency and the way you didn’t overtly call attention to yourself. But somehow you demanded respect and by the gods, you got it.

On this particular occasion, he couldn’t take his eyes off your ass. You’d caught him staring, given him a wink and a little extra swish of your hips as you passed.

So how could anybody reasonably blame Oberyn for admiring such a perfect specimen of a human ass? Yours was perfect. He had to get a better look. You had practically told him to look.

And yet, apparently someone blamed him for looking. Because now he has that damned email from Ty Lane sitting in his inbox, waiting for that Read Receipt, confirming his appearance at the next mandatory workplace training.

He clicks Accept with another sigh. Then he gathers his thoughts for the rest of his workday.

At the appointed day and time, Oberyn finds himself sitting in a half-circle made of uncomfortably straight-backed chairs with a few other co-workers who, he supposed, had been dobbed in for similar infractions as he was. And...you. Why in the Mother’s name were YOU in here too? Oberyn’s mind wandered as he let himself imagine the myriad reasons you might have been called into this awful torture session.

Mr Lane was droning through his PowerPoint presentation detailing all those things you were and weren’t supposed to do in the workplace. And all the things you were and weren’t supposed to do with your coworkers. And...was that...was that? Celine Dion’s voice singing as background music?

Where does my heart beat now? Where is the sound That only echoes through the night?

Oberyn is trying to pay attention, he really is. His mind wanders again. To you. You’re just so...sexy. Confident. So perfect. So sultry as you just go about your day. The unwitting reason he’s in this room in the first place. He tries to keep his eyes to himself, but he can’t resist glancing over at you for a peek. Fuck. You’re openly watching him, not even trying to be subtle. You give Oberyn a wink and flick your eyes forward again. Pretending to pay attention to Ty’s boring slideshow.

Next time Oberyn looks over to you, he’s ready. You’re looking at him again and this time, he drops you a wink of his own. He sees your cheeks darken slightly and your eyes flash momentarily.

Where does my heart beat now? I can't live without, without feeling it inside I've need someone to give my heart to

Oberyn’s imagination strolls off again at what you might be thinking about. He only comes back to himself as he hears someone saying his name. Mr Lane. It sounds as if it’s not the first time he’s said it. Shit.

Oberyn senses a dreadful feeling of his pants growing tight. And he feels the unmistakeable tingling of his cock making itself known.

I feel it getting stronger and stronger and stronger, yeah And I feel inside Hearts are made to last till the end of time

His cock is definitely growing harder and he can feel it pulsing to the beat of Celine’s song. Shit.

Ty is speaking now. “Mr Martell, would you join us to role-play out the scenario we’ve been discussing. Please come up to the front. Your partner will be --” and he said the worst possible choice for partner: your name.

Oberyn’s brain stops briefly. His cock is at full mast and he knows it’ll be visible through the soft linen pants he prefers to wear. There’s no way he should be standing up right now, in front of a room full of people at a fucking sexual harassment meeting of all times. With YOU.

He puts on his most sincere face and attempts sanity. “Mr Lane, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ty’s eyes narrow. “Oberyn, you are here and participation is mandatory. Get up here.”

“Mr Lane….being reasonable, this isn’t something you really want me to do right now.”

“Martell. NOW.”

Oberyn sighs. “Alright. Just remember, this is what you wanted.”

He stands and walks to the space at the front of the room. Ty’s attention has turned to you now as you walk up to join Oberyn, so he misses seeing the obvious tent in Oberyn’s pants. As you and Oberyn reach the front together and turn to face your audience, a gasp breaks the silence and a few snorts erupt from those watching. Oberyn’s mouth half-lifts up in a smirk.

Ty is not having it.

“People, we are all adults and we are here for a reason. Settle down, please. You two,” He gestures to the two of you with an exasperated wave of his hand. “continue. Now.”

In the scenario you and Oberyn are attempting to recreate, one employee is making unwanted advances toward the co-worker. The other is supposed to be shutting it down and ending the interaction before reporting it to HR. Oberyn expected he would be taking the role of the unwanted aggressor, given his reputation, but you surprise him by immediately starting with that role. Forcing him to take the receiving role.

“Well, hell-oooo gorgeous, how have I never seen YOU around here before? Where have you been hiding this incredible body?” You step closer and riffle the collar of his shirt, which (as usual) was barely hanging on to his shoulders due to its missing top three buttons.

He’s stunned. He can’t tell if you’re just a very good actor, or if you’re being serious. He hopes it’s the latter. His cock desperately adds its vote for the latter too.

Ty is silently shooting daggers at Oberyn as he tries to catch up and deliver his expected lines. “uh, why, hello, I don’t really -”

You continue as if he hadn’t said a word, and take another step closer. “You know, it’s really a shame we don’t work in the same department. We could be spending a lot - more - time - together,” as your first two fingers walk down the front of his buttonband and pause just above his waistband.

Oberyn didn’t think it was possible but his cock is growing even harder. You’re up close in his space, he can smell the scent of your hair, and the gleam in your eyes is practically shouting at him to bed you. He’s so hard it aches. He can’t think straight. What have you done to him? He’s supposed to be the office rogue, but here you are practically fucking him with your eyes in front of a room full of people.

He takes a breath. Finds his control. Takes a step back and grasps your hand and gently moves it back down to your side.

He says the lines expected of him, “This is neither the time nor the place, and I’m afraid you are making me uncomfortable. Please stop.” His voice is serious, but his eyes are locked with yours in flirtatious challenge. His hand is still holding yours and he’s making no effort to let go now that the act is over.

You’ve both fallen silent, standing stock-still, your eyes are still locked onto each other. A frission passes between you and suddenly the tension ebbs as Ty’s voice floats out as if from a distance. “Finally, thank you. You may sit down now.”

You and Oberyn startle back to your senses with Ty’s voice. Your glance flickers down at Oberyn’s crotch and his cock jumps in response. Oberyn squeezes your hand with another smirk. You take the obvious invitation and practically drag Oberyn out the door by the hand. You’ve both bolted so quickly that the door slams and bangs back open, swaying with the breeze of your passing.

Ty stares after you, dumbfounded, while the remaining participants in the room are giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

Poor Mr Lane. He can’t decide whether to follow you both and start proceedings now, or let you get it out of your systems first. He shakes his head and shuffles his paperwork before sighing to himself, “fucking Martells.”

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do a fic where the sister is like 14 and the triplets notice she’s acting off and they take her to a psychologist and he diagnosed her with bipolar disorder and depression and they help her through it

yep

“Through the Highs and Lows”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : bipolar.

The Sturniolo triplets had always been protective of their little sister, Y/N. At fourteen, she was the youngest, but over the past few months, they noticed something was off. She wasn’t acting like herself. One moment, she was full of energy, talking a mile a minute about random things, barely sleeping, and throwing herself into hobbies obsessively. The next, she wouldn’t leave her room, barely spoke, and seemed drained of all energy. It wasn’t like her usual moods; this was different.

“Have you noticed how Y/N’s been acting?” Nick asked one night as they sat in their living room.

Chris nodded, fidgeting with his rings. “Yeah, I thought she was just having a rough time at school or something, but it’s been months. She’s either too happy or too sad—there’s no in-between.”

Matt sighed. “I tried asking her what’s wrong, but she just says she’s fine. I don’t think she even knows what’s going on with herself.”

That was the breaking point. They knew they couldn’t ignore it any longer. The next day, they sat Y/N down and gently brought up their concerns. At first, she was defensive, insisting that she was just dealing with normal teenage emotions, but as they talked, she broke down.

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” she admitted through tears. “Sometimes I feel like I can do anything, like I don’t even need sleep, and I’m on top of the world. But then, all of a sudden, I just… crash. And I can’t get out of bed. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Chris pulled her into a hug. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’re gonna get you help.”

They scheduled an appointment with a psychologist, who, after a thorough evaluation, diagnosed Y/N with bipolar disorder and depression. It was overwhelming, but at least they had an answer.

“Medication and therapy will help,” the psychologist explained. “But most importantly, she needs a strong support system.”

The triplets took that to heart. They helped her stay consistent with her therapy, kept track of her medication schedule, and learned everything they could about bipolar disorder. They made sure she had someone to talk to, whether it was a late-night drive, a movie night, or just sitting with her in silence when words felt too heavy.

Some days were harder than others. There were times when Y/N would snap at them, feeling irritable for no reason, or nights when she would cry herself to sleep, feeling hopeless. But her brothers never wavered. They were patient, understanding, and never made her feel like a burden.

One night, as they sat on the roof of their house, looking at the stars, Y/N spoke up. “I’m really lucky to have you guys.”

Matt nudged her shoulder. “Nah, we’re the lucky ones. You’re the strongest person we know.”

Chris smiled. “And we’re always gonna be here. No matter what.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed them. She wasn’t alone. She had her brothers, and with their support, she knew she could get through anything.

[the-meme-monarch]

I'm gonna explode one of these days and all that'll be in my melted brain is your DW art/silly

Not technically an ask, but I just wanted to say that the English dictionary doesn't have enough words to describe how much I fucking LOVE your art >< THE WAY YOU DEPICT ARTHUR AND DELILAH IS SO AWESOME AGDHDHHDH I also really like how you don't care abt ships, because DON'T GET ME WRONG I love me some fruitcake content, but it's so refreshing to see art that's lore-driven yet also so cool and silly ehehehe Sorry if this makes no sense I'm writing this all at 6:18 in the morning because I just scrolled through your entire page and went feral over everything in it @∆@ Proceeds to disintegrate

HEHE I’m glad to see other people care about like The Lore And World Building And Characters Themselves over the shipping. and Similarly nothing really wrong w caring abt the shipping but like idk. the thing I don’t get is how people can care about Only the shipping time after time in every media they consume. doesn’t that get boring. and w this fandom how Widespread the shipping is, it feels like that’s all there is/it’s all anyone here cares about. i know this isn’t true but oh my god can we get More that Isn’t ship content. there’s been a fucking “malfunction incident” and to me it seems like someone might be dead because of it. the toons are kind of in a nightmare scenario trapped in a building with monsters and they’re acting like nothing is wrong. there’s black sludge named after god’s blood just In the building in machines like it’s normal. what are arthur and delilah’s Deals. there’s Something to talk about here but you guys only want to see these two or more characters kiss/worse? ddint you do that with the other media already NDSJJSJSJSKAK

[burningembers91]

Broken Glass - Kim Gun-Woo x Fem!Reader

Follow up to:

The Dance Teacher

Synopsis: Faced with financial ruin, you take out a loan with Smile Capital. By the time you realise your mistake, the damage is already done.

Please note that this fic features violence against the reader. I have kept details vague.



For as long as you could remember, you’d wanted to be a dancer. Your parents always said that as a baby, instead of walking, you’d dance everywhere. You were enrolled in ballet classes from the age of three, spending every spare second you had practicing your pliets and arabesques. You danced on your way to and from school, you danced while studying, you danced while cleaning the house. You enrolled in contemporary and lyrical classes, along with hip hop and even ballroom. You couldn’t get enough of the way it felt when you gave your body over to the music, getting lost in the emotion that came with movement.

You’d been desperate to start up your own dance school, to teach others to love dancing as much as you did. You’d spent years saving, squirrelling every penny away to fund your dream. But you hadn’t counted on losing it all, your hard earned cash being taken by the man who was supposed to love you. Your ex had a gambling addiction, one that tore through your life like a wildfire, taking everything with it. Your dream of a dance studio had been so close, but it was ripped from your grasp overnight. You only just managed to keep your apartment, having to sell your car to pay back some of your ex’s debt. He had left when the debt collectors turned up, abandoning you to deal with the fallout of his selfish actions. Your dreams were in tatters, but then someone offered you a lifeline.

A representative from Smile Capital approached you, offering you a sensible sounding loan so you could get back on your feet. The monthly repayment options were affordable, the upfront cost minimal. You saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and you took their loan without a second thought. You opened your studio, your classes selling out as people scrambled for a slot. For a while, life was good. Until it wasn’t.

As you closed up the studio one night, a group of men approached you. You recognised one of them as the man who had offered you the loan, his once smiling, kind face now set into a stony grimace.

“Do you take us for fools?” He asked you, blocking your path as you tried to leave. “We offer to help you, and you laugh in our faces?”

“I’m sorry?” You said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

All the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your fight or flight kicking in, urging you to run. Something was wrong, and you needed to escape.

“You dumb little bitch,” he laughed, lunging towards you, gripping your hair with such force that tears welled in your eyes. “You think you can get away without paying us?”

You looked around wildly for help, but the street was empty, all other businesses long closed for the night.

“The first payment isn’t due for another 2 weeks,” you squeaked, trying desperately to escape his vice-like grip.

The group of men laughed, and the very blood in your veins turned to ice.

“I’m not talking about the monthly payment you dumb fucking whore,” he spat. “Did you not read the terms and conditions? You had 7 days to pay the upfront costs. And yet, we’ve received nothing.”

Your mind whirred as you thought back to the contract you’d signed. You’d read every page, and had seen nothing about upfront costs. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you started to panic. These men could do whatever they wanted to you in this darkened alleyway, and no one would hear you scream.

“Please,” you whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You were thrown to the floor, the contract you’d signed flung unceremoniously at you. Scanning the pages again you noticed the tiny fine print on the last page, so small you could barely read it. With a sickening realisation, you understood what had happened.

“You tricked me,” you sobbed. “How could you?” The sum they had asked for up front was completely beyond your means; it was beyond any normal person’s means.

“You have 24 hours to get me your cash,” the man hissed in your ear. “Or you can say goodbye to your studio.”

His breath was hot on your ear, his fingers once again entwining painfully in your hair as he flicked his tongue along your neck. You shuddered at his unwanted touch, pushing the man away from you. You watched them leave, too scared to move from your crouched position on the floor until you could no longer hear their footsteps. You were done for, your dream and life once again lying in tatters around you.

You didn’t sleep that night, thinking of everything you could to try and get out of the contract. You couldn’t contact the police; after all, you’d signed the contract willingly. Your friends and family didn’t have money to loan you, and you had too much credit card debt to get a loan from the bank. You thought about running, but where would you go? You had no doubt that these people would be able to track you down, and that they’d use the people you cared about to get to you. You’d have no choice but to beg, to ask for forgiveness and more time. But you knew now that they weren’t those kinds of people. Smile Capital didn’t care who they hurt; you were nothing more than an ant underneath their shoe. So tiny and insignificant, and they wouldn’t hesitate to step on you.

***

It was late as Kim Gun-Woo made his way back home, jogging through the darkened streets, the stars in the sky illuminating his way. Practice had run late, but he’d told his mum he’d stop by the cafe on the way home to pick up the purse she’d left behind. The chill in the air was biting, his breath visible as his feet pounded the pavement. He didn’t hear the commotion until he rounded the corner, the street littered with broken glass. He could hear the faint sound of crying, a female voice pleading with someone. Gun-Woo instantly recognised the voice; it was you.

Disguising himself in the shadows, he crouched low, sneaking silently round the corner for a better view. Your studio was in tatters, the glass frontage completely smashed, the furniture and equipment lying broken on the pavement. He could vaguely make out your body lying in between the debris, your pleas going unanswered as you begged for your assailants to cease. Gun-Woo couldn’t stand to see you like this, couldn’t bear to hear you in such distress. If he didn’t step in, there was no telling what might happen to you.

“Leave her alone!”

You heard Gun-Woo’s voice behind you, saw him emerge from the shadows just as one of the men lit a match. The smell of gasoline burned in your nostrils, your voice hoarse as you begged for him to stop. They’d arrived an hour ago, dragging you from your studio and beating you until you could no longer stand. They made you watch as they destroyed your livelihood, smashing glass and mirrors, hacking away at your ballet barres. Your t-shirt was covered in blood, your face sticky with the congealed substance. At this point, you didn’t care if they killed you; there was no coming back from the damage they’d inflicted.

“Gun-Woo, no!” You begged, too weak to stand, your hand outstretched in a feeble attempt to stop him. He was one man against a dozen; he didn’t stand a chance. But you hadn’t seen him fight before, had never witnessed him take down an opponent in the ring in under 2 minutes. He was lithe and agile, but impossibly strong as he made quick work of your assailants. You heard cartilage crunch as his fists made contact with their noses, watched as blood and teeth spurted from their mouths. You barely had time to register what was happening before he picked up off the floor, hoisting you over his shoulder as if you weight nothing. You kept your eyes on your destroyed studio as Gun-Woo carried you to safety, your only solace knowing that now these men were physically hurting as much as you were.

Gun-Woo didn’t stop running until he was safely back at his apartment, you cradled in his arms.

“What happened?” He asked you, laying you down on the sofa as his mum rushed over. You told them about Smile Capital, about the impossible clause you hadn’t read until it was too late.

“My studio is gone,” you sobbed. “They destroyed everything.”

“We can help you rebuild,” Gun-Woo insisted. “You’ll come back stronger than ever.”

“But what about my classes? My students? How am I supposed to make a living? I owe Smile Capital more than I’ll make in a lifetime. I just don’t see how I can come back from this.”

It broke Gun-Woo’s heart to see you like this. Your beautiful face, so beaten and bloody, your usually sunny attitude ground down to nothing.

These men had destroyed you, and Gun-Woo would make them pay.