#I literally want to study all of them in a lab right now

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 10: 100%

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Explicit language (literally one word)

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The lab was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that brought peace, but the kind that buzzed beneath the skin. A held breath. A pause before the fall.

Yn stood at the diagnostics table, her face lit by the glow of the console. San’s core lay open beneath her fingers, a gleaming lattice of memory conduits and neural threadspreads precisely aligned. Every piece had been placed with obsessive care.

The latest test result pulsed on the screen:

[TEST 12 COMPLETE – ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL] [NO ERRORS DETECTED. CORE STABILITY: 97%] [REBUILD APPROVED]

She stared at it, unmoving.

Behind her, Seonghwa finally broke the silence with a breath. “Ninety-seven. That’s incredible. You did it.”

But Yn didn’t answer.

Her jaw tightened.

Then she shook her head. “It’s not good enough.”

Seonghwa blinked. “What?”

“I want one hundred percent,” she said, backing away from the console. She paced once, turned sharply. “If we’re sending him out, if this is it, he needs to be perfect. No weak threads. No missed fragments.”

“You’ve already run twelve full diagnostics.”

“Then I’ll run thirteen.”

And she did.

She ran them all over again. She re-scanned the emotional mapping circuits, re-threaded two fragile neural stems, and adjusted three logic conditions that didn’t technically need adjusting. But they might someday. That was reason enough.

For hours, she didn’t stop.

Her fingers blurred across the interface. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. But she pushed on, calibrating until the system hesitated before starting the thirteenth pass, like it understood the weight of what was coming.

It took longer this time. Every code check moved slower. Every metric triple-checked itself.

And then

[TEST 13 COMPLETE – ALL SYSTEMS OPTIMAL] [CORE STABILITY: 100%] [REBUILD CONFIRMED – UNIT READY]

Yn exhaled like a wave finally cresting and breaking. Her shoulders slumped. The screen blurred for a moment before her vision refocused.

A hand settled gently on her shoulder. Seonghwa.

“You got it,” he murmured. “One hundred.”

She nodded slowly. “He’s ready.”

Seonghwa’s gaze drifted to the memory thread packet still queued at the side of the console, San’s archived experience log.

“I’ll start syncing the memory,” he offered.

“No,” Yn said sharply. Then, softer, “Don’t give it back.”

Seonghwa turned toward her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “His personality code is too empathetic. He’d torture himself for something he doesn’t even remember. He’ll still feel guilty without context. He always does. But maybe without the memory, he won’t let it define him.”

“You want a clean slate.”

“I want him to have a shot,” she said. “And I want this launch to go right.”

Seonghwa studied her for a beat. Then nodded and slid the memory file aside. “No memory restore. San goes out clean.”

Twelve hours later, the lab was silent and immaculate. Every cable was sealed, every pod humming in standby. The diagnostic board blinked green across the board.

Seven synced prototypes.

And one freshly rebuilt core, confirmed at 100%.

Yn stood alone at the control panel, the soft glow of the pods reflecting in her eyes. Inside them, the boys stood motionless in containment cradles:

Hongjoong, then Yunho, then Yeosang, then San, then Mingi, then Wooyoung, then Jongho

And finally, Seonghwa.

He’d entered his dock that morning, looked at her one last time, and said, “You’ve got this. I'll see you soon.”

His pod sealed with a quiet hiss. She hadn’t looked away until the vitals lit green.

San’s pod was last.

Whole again. Chestplate sealed. His core, once fractured and bleeding corrupted code, now pulsed in perfect rhythm with the monitors.

He was ready.

He just wouldn’t remember.

And that, she reminded herself, was the point.

The lab doors slid open.

Vira entered, heels echoing across the smooth floor, arms clasped behind her back. Her gaze swept over the row of stasis pods like someone admiring fine art.

“Amazing,” she murmured. “Still gives me chills. This is what we’ve worked for.”

She stopped briefly in front of San’s pod, eyes narrowing with approval. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Yn straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”

“All systems green?”

“Every diagnostic cleared. Final test at one hundred percent. Launch is ready.”

Vira smiled. “Perfect. Let’s get them moving.”

As she turned to log the final clearance, Yn stepped to the master console.

Seven names blinked in sequence:

SEONGHWA: SYNCED HONGJOONG: SYNCED YUNHO: SYNCED YEOSANG: SYNCED SAN: SYNCED MINGI: SYNCED WOOYOUNG: SYNCED JONGHO: SYNCED

Eight in total. Flawless.

She hesitated only once.

Then tapped CONFIRM.

The convoy pulled into Hala City just after sunrise. A sleek line of matte-black KQ transport trucks cruised beneath the silver morning haze, escorted by armed drones flanking their sides.

Inside the head truck, the prototype containers were strapped down to avoid damage from transport. Eight original models. Sealed. Silent.

By the time they reached the factory, the sun hovered low behind the towers, casting long shadows across the loading yard.

The bay doors hissed open.

Technicians in deep navy uniforms stood waiting, rows of women already in motion, synchronized like machinery. No chatter. Only focused execution.

“Unloading team, bay six,” called the shift lead. “Secure pods to glide rails. Confirm vital scan pings before replication.”

Fog rolled from the trailer interiors as containment pods were revealed, lined two-by-two like honored relics.

One by one, the workers slid them onto hover-gliders.

First pod. Second. Third.

Each was scanned and cleared.

Then came the fifth.

A younger worker, new to the rotation, moved too fast. Her glove caught on the stabilizer hook.

“Careful!”

But it was too late.

The pod slammed sideways against the edge of the bay floor, then thudded back into place upright. The sound cracked through the air like a fault line forming.

“Shit,” the worker breathed, scrambling to check the seals. “I—It’s fine, the lights are still steady. No external breach.”

The supervisor rushed over, tapping the readout on the side of the pod. After a moment, the indicators returned green. Containment secure. Internal systems registering stable. No outward signs of damage.

“Move it into bay six,” the supervisor said after a beat. “Just watch your handling next time.”

The girl nodded, still breathless, and wheeled the pod back into line. It slid into formation without fanfare.

No one noticed the brief flicker in the internal diagnostic bar. No one questioned the single red pulse before it faded.

Not yet.

Inside the replication chamber, rows of scanners glowed beneath sterile light. Each original prototype was slotted into its bay, data siphoned and copied, physical blueprints, behavioral programming, and synthetic bio-rhythms all mapped and mirrored.

Spun into five flawless duplicates per model.

Forty clones.

Identical in charm. Identical in beauty. Identical in code.

Later that evening, the final log closed.

Production complete.

The new units were prepped for shipment to the Build-A-Boyfriend flagship store in Sector 1, elegantly staged behind velvet curtains for the official unveiling.

The originals?

Re-sealed. Returned to pods. Gently slid back into the trucks.

Back to KQ Labs.

All was perfect.

Almost.

Because one pod, indistinguishable from the rest, carried something no scan had caught.

A barely visible fracture curled along a neural joint, hidden beneath gel layers and armored plating. And deep inside the casing, behind insulated code and light-matter buffers, a single diagnostic light blinked red.

Just once.

The lead technician glanced up, sensing the flicker.

“Hm. That’s weird,” she murmured. “Glitch in the system?”

She tapped the glass.

The light turned green again.

Satisfied, she moved on.

The pods were locked in place. Immaculate. Uniform. Silent.

As the truck door closed and the latch sealed, the internal feed caught a final glimpse.

A tiny shift. A subtle fault.

And the tag on the container?

Model: ATEEZ-HWA-ORI

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

@halloweenbyphoebebridgers @herpoetryprincess @ari-da @lixhoe777 @yoonginorout

@raicecakes-and-buldak @chanscappuccino @fyolovrr @green-moon @clmstorm

@flambychan @woosmaid @sweetweetyss @reidswifeyyyyyy @auroramirage

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[sweetiechenle]

sleepyhead ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ mark

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!mark x afab!collegestudent!reader

summary: your friend and classmate mark helps you out in class after accidentally sleeping in, but the hint of a scribble in the notes he lends you threatens to rewrite your relationship.

w.c: 7.2k

warnings: mdni 18+, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, it's all fluff with a dash of light angst, reader is oblivious to marks advances, but he's kinda dumb too, idiots in love, mutual pining, kissing, confessions, soft smut, love making literally, oral (f receiving), porn with plot, unprotected sex (dont do this), praising, pet names, soft!dom!top!mark (god i need him), crack/humor, lots of time skips im so sorry, if i forgot anything oh well lmk, i used this idea for a different fandom YEARS AGO, i am too embarrassed to admit what fandom but if you find it and think i'm stealing i am not. promise. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality

you yawned big and loud, trying not to give yourself away too much, you kept your limbs from reaching outward. mark, your seatmate, and kind of friend?, gave you an inquisitive look. as if to ask if you were okay. truth be told, it was all rock bottom. papers upon papers, presentations, reading, and a lab took up all of your time this semester. you met Mark at the beginning of the year in your ‘major writings of the european tradition I’. you sat near the front because of your bad vision and the brown haired boy came next to you saying the famous ‘is this seat taken?’ line to which you said no. this left him to plop down in the said seat he pointed at. you studied him hard, clad in a semi-tight shirt and worn jeans, his white tube socks poking out once he sat down. it was hard not to notice the dirty and distressed black converse, probably wearing them every day since he could fit in them. he had a boyish grin when he turned to you and asked about how your day was going, you blushed noticing how handsome he actually is. his bright eyes shown under the fluorescent light as he now asked you about the book you were reading. ‘the picture of dorian gray’ sat atop all of your other books from various classes. it was apparently his favorite book too. his lips curled into the brightest smile, excitingly talking about his other favorite books and authors. it was endearingly cute.

you both shared socials in order to stay in touch in case either of you had questions about the class. you two would talk occasionally, keeping a calm distance. sharing literary memes on instagram, sending book recommendations on tiktok, or texting each other late at night when one couldn’t sleep. you would periodically meet up with him to study, or whenever you were too tired to read whatever was assigned in class, mark would read it for you out loud in the comfort of his apartment. it was easy to consider him a friend. at the end of the semester you told him you signed up for major writings of the european tradition II. he pumped his fist in the air earning small giggles from you due to his overreaction. telling you how happy he was that you’d be in the same class again. that’s where you are now, with mark still sitting next to you, listening to the same boring more advanced lecture. you loved literature and being an english major, but sometimes you don't know how many more reading and analysis’ you can take of the odyssey.

glancing at the clock you sighed, an hour left of class. pain was all you knew at this moment, you underslept last night, working on an essay for a speech writing class, trying to get it all down perfectly in order to impress your professor. you didn’t realize it was well past three in the morning when you finally had finished, all you wanted to do right now was go back to your apartment and nap until your next class in four hours. you drowned out the professor and whatever was being said about odysseus and what he got himself into this time. placing your chin on your closed fist, your vision drifting in and out of blurriness, and before you knew it you fell asleep. you gasped when mark nudged you awaken eyes going wide in surprise making him laugh a little bit.

‘dude, you fell asleep, class is over y/n’ mark said once you looked over at him, still in his seat next to you, almost everyone had already left.

you sighed running your fingers through your already messy hair, ‘ugh, i’m sorry, i didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.’

mark laughed, ‘oh, i can tell’

you scowled at him, earning another laugh from the taller man as you both stood up. at least it was friday, and you’d have the whole weekend to catch up on homework, and sleep. ‘want to go get coffee since you’re such a sleepyhead? need to keep you awake somehow’ mark asked, scratching the back of his neck, nervously rocking back and forth. you smiled at how red his ears were, waiting for your response. when you first met, he would occasionally get nervous around you, to which you never knew why, never thinking of yourself as anything special. but you noticed he got anxious around almost everyone after first meeting people. much like yourself, after a while mark started to get more comfortable with you, becoming more confident, and increasingly charming, however he could never hide the facade he tried to put on when asking to hang out outside of class. he would suddenly become a meek and shy, not the confident, outspoken boy you saw almost every day. 

‘yes, that would be perfect’ you answered, ‘caffeine is much needed right now’ mark smiled and led you to the open door of the classroom, motioning you to go through first. it was pretty pathetic when butterflies erupted in your stomach, standards weren’t high for you, obviously, the smallest gesture from mark made you turn to putty. you didn’t have a lot of relationship experience, most of the time boys would lead you on, only to tell you they were never ready for anything. only a few longer relationships would end up in flames, men too toxic for you to continue on any longer. every time, earning a vow from you that you would never talk to another boy ever again. you could tell mark was different from anyone you had ever met, he was genuinely sweet and always helped whenever he could, profusely apologizing when he was too busy to come and help you study. you’ve always liked mark more than you should, it was really hard not to, anytime you ever talked about mark to anyone else, only nice things were discussed. you would never admit to harbored feelings for him, he was lovely to everyone, how could you be any different?

after a while, he started walking in front of you to the coffee shop on campus, stealing glancing at you just to make sure you were still following him, making your heart ache so hard the caffeine you were about to consume would probably kill you. entering the coffee shop turned your tired state into total bliss, a welcome and much needed break. ‘oh! there’s johnny, let’s go sit with him’ mark exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you near the table in the back. before you knew it, a tall man with raven black hair was standing up and greeting you and mark. he was older than you and mark, a senior that your friend had met during his freshman year of college. you had met johnny before, a handful of times, and for brief moments. mark would always talk about his other friends with you. he’d tell you that ‘you just have to meet them’, but whenever the time would come it would be short meetings, a hi and bye.

mark brought out your chair and gestured for you to sit down, saying that he would go order you both coffees, leaving you with johnny. he turned to you and smiled, to which you returned, trying to register what mark had just done for you. god you really need to get higher standards, hard albeit mark being your standard. johnny asked you about school and how you are doing with all of it, you asked him similar questions, watching mark disappear in the line for coffee. you didn’t notice johnny calling your name over and over, only when he had gotten up close and personal in order to get your attention. you jumped slightly after the fifth ‘y/n!’

you quickly looked over at him, calming him down, ‘jesus y/n, where did you go? staring at mark? i know he’s pretty but-’

you cut him off, ‘would you keep your voice down!? i wasn’t staring at mark, i was just thinking…’ it was hard to keep the blush from creeping up and having it wash over you like a tsunami.

johnny gave you a knowing look, ‘... thinking about mark’ 

you glared at him, ‘can we stop talking about mark, please’ desperate to leave this conversation behind, but speak of the devil and he shall appear.

‘why are we talking about mark?’ you and johnny whipped your heads up in surprise, mark standing there with a grin on his handsome, stupid face. holding two coffee cups in each hand, asking in the third person as to why you were both discussing him while he was away.

‘n-nothing, we were just talking about our english class’ you explained quickly trying to save yourself from embarrassment.

johnny just nodded while mark, handed you your coffee and sat down, joining you both at the table in extreme awkward silence. mark broke the ice, ‘y/n fell asleep in class today’ he smirked and looked your way, catching your reaction of groaning and hiding behind your small coffee cup as you took little sips.

johnny laughed along with mark, wishing that the ground would open you up and swallow you whole, ‘it was so funny, the professor didn’t even notice!’ the older boy laughed along with his friend at your plight to fall asleep so easily in class. ‘you even snored a little bit, oh my god, it was so cute!’ he squealed. CUTE!? your eyes went wide, ignoring the embarrassing part about snoring in class. mark called you cute. johnny turned to give you that knowing look again, this caffeine was definitely going to give you a heart attack. this was going to be a long weekend.

monday morning rolled around, the weekend was spent writing papers, reading epic poetry, and sleeping. and also the occasional mental breakdown when you recall that mark called you cute. sunshine hit your face, and that’s when you figured you couldn’t stay in bed any longer. you rubbed your eyes hard and stretched your body out in bed, dreading the fact that you’ll have to get yourself up and ready to learn about some new epic now that the lesson over the odyssey was over. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, your bones practically jumping out of your body when you realized you had only an hour left of class. you had overslept and missed the first hour of class, fuck. you hurried to get ready, not giving any mind to your appearance, jeans, and a hoodie would do. you texted mark ‘i overslept ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡), just woke up, i’ll be there soon. my chair still open?’ closing the door to your apartment, you marched out into the warm weather, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassment you were about to face once you walked into class late. eyes peeled to your phone, the delivered immediately turned into read, mark texted back ‘always, sleepyhead’ you rolled your eyes, too much in a rush to get flustered by the nickname this time, shoving the phone in your pocket you continued walking to the humanities building.

you slipped in through the door in the back, making sure it wouldn’t slam shut, praying to any god who would listen to not get called out. thankfully, your prayers were answered, no one said a thing for the rest of class, only mark who gave you a smile once you sat down. you were lost the entire rest of class, the professor going into depth about the cantos and then switching very rapidly to beowulf then to dante’s inferno. maybe you should’ve stayed home. once class ended, mark started putting everything in his backpack, grabbing his wrist to stop him, he turned towards you with his eyebrows up in question and surprise.

‘can i borrow your notes mark? please? i literally had no idea what was going on since i was late’ you were practically begging at this point, but before you could grow any more desperate, mark chuckled and handed you his notebook for this class that continued to lay on the table.

‘i guess you beat me to it, why do you think i left my notebook out?’ mark smiled and handed you the red, worn out notebook. you let out a thankful sigh, some weight lifting off your shoulders, your standards were fucked by now.

‘thank you so much mark, i really owe you one, i’ll have it back to you by tomorrow.’ you reassured, giving him a genuine, thankful smile.

later that evening, back at your apartment, you took mark’s notebook out from your backpack. you had finished all the work for the classes you did attend today and now it was time to move on to the bane of your existence. opening up his notebook to find the most recent entry, your eyes finally landed on notes about dante’s inferno and whatever gibberish the professor was spewing when you showed up. reading about the layers of hell and how it has to do with the other epic’s was further explained by mark in his notes. flipping the page, your eyes caught something in the corner. taking a closer look, you sat up from the couch and moved towards the light. you gasped upon seeing what was written, erased, and written and erased again over the left side of the page. poorly drawn hearts with the words ‘sleepyhead’ written inside littered the far left corner of mark’s notes. this surely wasn’t about you… could it? you singled out the piece of paper, moving it into the light in order to see through it, double-checking your suspicions. and sure enough, there they were clear as day. it looked as though mark drew them on the paper and had tried his hardest to erase them, yet still somewhat visible, you didn’t have four eyes for nothing after all. ‘fuck’ you cursed out, staring at the faded drawing and words. this was your own personal inferno.

the next day was like no other, barely any sleep and when you woke on time you contemplated not going at all. however, you promised you’d bring mark his cursed notebook back. the very notebook that had been plaguing your mind since you discovered its hidden contents last night. that's what kept you up so late, you couldn’t simply forget about it and let it go. you debated asking him about it, but if it had nothing to do with you, then you’d probably have to change your name, face, and leave the country all together. but after all how many people did he call ‘sleepyhead’… probably 5, max. you had to investigate, test the waters and see what this was truly all about. you had to come up with a plan.

you got up and started walking around your room, getting ready, you put a lot more effort into your outfit, jean shorts and a cute baby t-shirt you think would catch any person’s attention. walking to class, it was brisk, the wind nipping at your arms and legs. you shuddered, bringing your hands up and down in order to try to redistribute your warmth. you finally got to class and the nervousness had taken over your system, totally forgetting about the cold and now terrified to face your friend. your body shook, shuffling to your seat, seeing mark on his phone waiting for class to start. you let out a tense breath, trying to settle your uneasy heart and stomach. you pulled out the chair, startling the boy next to you, his soft hair jumping slightly and moving away from his face, his eyes shining up at you. his mouth curls into a smile, going from ear to ear, it was infectious, you gave him a small smile back despite your stomach churning in the worst way possible.

‘you finally decided to come to class on time’ he joked, poking your shoulder lightly.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, getting everything out for class ‘i barely even slept last night, i closed my eyes, and then boom my alarm was going off…’

mark’s smile faltered and eventually dropped upon hearing your confession of getting little sleep. ‘by the way,’ you grabbed the wretched notebook from your bag, handing it to mark, ‘here’s your notebook back, the notes really helped, thank you’

mark took it from your hand, ‘it’s no problem, if you need any more you can always ask’

you smiled, and turned towards the front of the class as soon as the professor walked in. putting any thoughts of mark in the back of your mind and bringing forth your plan. every once in a while you could arrive late, it's not like you’d be penalized for missing class, your professor never took notice. it would just be on you if you never showed up and somehow failed the semester. but with marks help, there was no way you could fall that far behind.

over the next couple of days, you and mark would hang out sporadically, studying together or watching movies. after a couple of days, you finally decided it would be time to try and be late to class again. to be fair, you had an essay to start that was due in two days, so staying up and working on it and accidentally sleeping in would be the perfect excuse. silently hoping this wasn’t going to come back and bite you in the ass.

flash forward to the next day: it did. you woke up with only 30 minutes left of class, less than what you originally wanted. thankfully, you did finish the cursed essay at four in the morning, you woke up to your alarm blaring, not even realizing how many times you snoozed it. grabbing your phone from the night stand you stretched and got up, getting changed for class and heading out.

opening up your messages you internally groaned, seeing about five messages from mark reading:

‘dude, where are you??’

‘no way you overslept again( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)’

‘don’t worry sleepyhead, i’m taking notes for you’

‘also, the professor mentioned a project and let us pick partners’

‘i told her you were my partner .. if that’s okay •⩊•’

you squealed into your hoodie sleeve, trying to keep a hold on yourself, but this was too much, the cute aggression getting to you so bad you punched the air. after getting some weird looks you hurried to class, slipping through the big double doors you immediately spotted the brown haired boy, silently cheering that no one was sitting with him you moved towards him and your seat. once you made yourself known to his presence, he gave you a small smile that made your heart crescendo, brought on by the growing feeling of love coming to a climax.

‘hey’ he whispered beside you, keeping his eyes on the professor who continued to lecture.

‘hey’ you answered back.

‘late again?’ he tsked, shaking his head slightly, ‘what am i gonna do with you?’

your hand covered your mouth, trying to hold back a giggle, ‘i stayed up later than i should’ve last night, i had an essay to finish’

‘oh, of course,’ he slide his notebook to you, ‘i got some notes for you about today’s lecture and about the project. we should plan on when to meet up to work on it… the professor has been ranting about plato for the last hour, so you haven’t missed much’

you nodded and grabbed his notebook and slid it into your backpack, trying not to show much nervousness over such a simple gesture. once class ended mark turned to you.

‘i have to meet with johnny, so i’ll catch you later’ you nodded and he smiled, his lopsided lips curling up complimented his boyish charm, making your insides twist and turn. ‘i’ll text you later about the project’

he moved to grab his backpack from the floor, without thinking you grabbed his shoulder softly, he whipped his head around, eyes now wide from the sudden touch, backpack forgotten. ‘uh-h, ha-ave a good day mark’ you said, giving him an innocent smile. his features immediately softened, that tender smile coming back on his lips.

you let go, watching him stand up from his seat, now staring up at his gorgeous face, ‘you too, pillow poet’

the new nickname felt like whiplash, like a 20 car pile up in your heart, every emotion crashing into each other, hard to make it out alive. glued to your seat, you stared at nothing now, the ghost of where mark once stood. you didn’t move until your professor knocked on your desk, promptly telling you to get the hell out.

later that night you had to build up the courage to actually open up mark’s notebook this time, his texts blowing up your phone going left unanswered. your roommate, yeri, had came back from class and asked why the hell you were staring at a closed notebook on the coffee table in the shared living room.

you sighed, ‘its complicated’

she dropped her bag and deadpanned, lips formed into a straight line as she rolled her eyes, ‘its a notebook’

you dropped your head into your hands, admitting defeat, ‘it’s not about the notebook,’ you sighed dramatically, pouting, ‘it’s about what’s inside…’

yeri gave you another eye roll and moved towards you, grabbing the notebook from the coffee table, she opened it and started flipping through the different pages, you looked up after hearing the rustling of pages, ‘it’s just notes!’ she cried.

you groaned and stood up, now facing her. you grabbed the notebook out of her hands, you found the most recent section of notes and scanned the pages, chest beating profusely. you stopped once you finally found what your heart was searching for, half erased hearts with various words inside, you took the page closer to the light on the ceiling.

‘sleepyhead’ ‘cutie’ ‘bedbug’ okay, not that cute, but the sentiment was still present.

yeri, now questioning if you really had lost it or not, grew concerned. ‘what is it?’ she moved closer to you, trying to decipher what it was you were so intently looking at. you grabbed her by the arm and brought her closer to you, nodding up to where you were holding the paper in the light, ‘look’.

‘y/n, what the hell am i looking at? stop being weird, it’s freaking me out’ she pouted and took a closer look.

‘mark…’ you trailed off, ‘i found them last week, i asked to borrow his notes because i was late to class, and he drew all these things and looked like he tried to erase them… i don’t know, oh my god, i sound crazy’ you handed the notebook to her and went to sit on the couch again and grovel.

yeri stood near the light, doing the same thing you were and tried to find what you were talking about, ‘oh’ she said, lowering the notebook and moving over to you, ‘do you think these are about you?’

‘i don’t know, if they were don’t you think he would be trying to hide it better? but how many people does he know that are late to class and oversleep!?’ you cried.

yeri’s eyebrows crease in deep thought, then it hits her, ‘maybe… he wanted you to find them’

‘why couldn’t he just tell me all of this himself?’ you questioned, second-guessing everything.

‘i’ve only met mark a handful of times and let me tell you,’ she placed her hand on your shoulder, ‘he is the most awkward person, ever, this could just be his way of flirting’

you didn’t say anything and continued to stare at your roommate, still standing with mark’s notebook. ‘you should talk to him about it’ she said, you stood up abruptly, eyes going wide.

‘no way dude, i can’t’ you tried justifying yourself but yeri cut you off.

‘ugh’ she groaned, ‘i forgot you are almost as awkward as he is, you like him though, don’t you?’ you gave her a little nod, embarrassed by the sudden interrogation. ‘next time you see him, just ask him about it, the worst thing he can do is say no and you both move on with your life, just a little misunderstanding’

you sighed and nodded again, agreeing to ask him about it so yeri would get off your back. you grabbed your phone, knowing mark had texted you earlier you finally decided to bite the bullet and answer him. four messages from mark went unread:

‘y/n, will you be free tomorrow to work on the project?’

‘y/nnn where did you go, i know you are awake’

‘or are you? smh, damn sleepyhead’ your mind screamed ‘AGAIN WITH THE NICKNAMES’

‘u better not be late tomorrow, i can only take so much european writing without you (  •̀ - •́  )’

you wrote and deleted your message to him about ten times before settling on a basic:

‘sorry mark! i (surprisingly) did not fall asleep, just talking with my roommate, i should be free tomorrow to start the project („• ֊ •„)’

three text bubbles popped up and he immediately texted back

‘gr8, c u tomorrow, get some rest’

the next day was an off day from classes, you and mark had discussed meeting somewhere in the library. but that would hinder you from asking him about his little drawings so you told him to come to your apartment, perfect knowing yeri would not be there. yet, it was as imperfect as perfect could get, the setting would be right, but your thoughts were all over the place. not planning out how this could go, most, if not all of your ‘plans’ were half-assed. you’d just have to wing it this one time.

mark showed up when he said he would, which was exactly a mark thing to do, you were just unprepared. stressing out as the minutes counted down, you opened the door and let him inside, he smiled and walked towards the couch, placing his things on the coffee table. ‘shall we get started?’ mark said, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

‘so, the project is over any story of our choosing, did you have one in mind?’ he asked, turning towards you on the couch. fuck, he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek, it smelled like mint and coffee.

‘oh yeah, i thought we could do icarus’ you answered, hoping he would agree, the story just hitting a little too close to home right now. in a sense, mark was your sun, and you were icarus, flying a bit too close every time you were near him. getting burned with reaching to conclusions that he actually liked you, getting your hopes up that he felt the same way, hoping to not fall to your death and lose him as a friend if this all was just a misunderstanding.

‘that's a great idea! i think we should be able to get through this project quickly with all the information we can get on the story’ he beamed, and you smiled back, slightly faltering from the nervousness running through your body.

‘are you okay? you seem out of it…’ he asked, more so concerned with you than the project.

you sighed, terrible at keeping your emotions from coming out, mark took notice to your anxious behavior. it was now or never. ‘mark’ you said his name like you both were already in a relationship and about to give him the ‘we need to break up talk’, you could tell he felt the exact same when he started fidgeting beside you. ‘can i ask you about something?’

‘of course, anything’ he answered, voice wavering in concern. you knew he was staring but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look anywhere in his direction, fearing that if you did, you would chicken out. you mentally screamed at yourself to stop and not do anything to jeopardize your friendship with mark. you had to remind yourself ‘the worst he could do is say no’.

‘oh, by the way, i forgot to ask, do you have my notebook?’ you could tell mark was trying to ease the tension, but because of the mention of that damn notebook, it only made it worse.

‘yeah about that…’ you started, having no idea how to ask about this, ‘i uh, wanted to ask you about something i saw in your notebook…’

mark, tilted his head to the side in confusion, ‘like some of the notes i left? i tried to be as thorough as i could…’

you picked at the skin on your fingers, ripping away the flesh in order to try and calm yourself down, ‘erm, no, something else i saw… some, um, drawings…’ you wished for nothing but this couch to swallow you whole and never spit you back out. you couldn’t tell what mark’s reaction was since you refused to look at him, but the silence gave you more answers than what you initially asked.

you peeked to the side, mark now had his head in his hands, rubbing his temple, cheeks dusted pink, you knew you caught him in something. ‘dude… this is so embarrassing’ he laughed. you didn’t say anything in response, just wanting him to continue explaining himself. ‘i thought i erased those, oh my god. how much did you see?’ he asked.

‘i think almost all of them…’ you rubbed the back of your neck, picking at the hair back there.

‘oh’ he said, his mouth turning into a perfect o. ‘that was not the way i wanted to tell you’ mark stated, still acting shy next to you. if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, it would’ve been endearing.

‘tell me what?’ you whispered, turning away from him so he wouldn’t notice the pink dusting over your cheeks.

mark stared at you, now sitting up and his shoulders straight, ‘that um, that i like you’ he said, ‘i don’t know i got bored in class and doodled in my notes, after i realized how stupid and cheesy it felt i erased them and tried to forget… guess i didn’t erase them hard enough’ he smiled at the memories of it all. ‘i wanted to tell you, but i didn’t know how to go about it, i’m not good at things like this, i don’t know, confessing i guess… i wasn’t sure if you felt the same, so that’s why every time i tried to tell you i liked you, my plans always fell through’

mark grabbed your shoulders and lightly forced you to face him, taken back by surprise your ears grew hot, now staring into his eyes he smiled, ‘but you’re here now and asking about my lovesick doodles, and i want to tell you… that i like you… i like you so much y/n, studying with you and being with you in class and outside of class, you are cute, funny, caring, and you work so hard for your classes i wish i had the will to stay up at ungodly hours to finish any of my essays, we like the same books and we talk about the nerdiest stuff no one else would… i think you’re perfect’. he stopped, his eyes looking into yours trying to search for any reaction, he looked desperate. ‘sorry, i, uh, got a little carried away there’ he cheeks bloomed into a deep red.

‘mark’ you felt wetness pool at the base of your eyes and roll down your cheeks, not even realizing you were crying mark reached out and whipped the tears away with his thumb. ‘i really like you too… that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me i-’ he cut you off, throwing himself onto you in a huge bear hug, making your back crash into the couch due to the weight now on you.

he got up, now hovering over you, he stared deeply into your eyes, ‘y/n… i want us to be a couple or something? whatever you are comfortable with, i want to be able to read you any stupid 100 year old story any time you’ll let me’

your eyes softened, gazing into his it was like a thousand stars shining in the night sky, you could see and feel every emotion he was talking about. pure love. there was no doubt, no sun to scorch your waxed wings, withstanding fear and questioning. with him you could now fly as far as he would take you.

‘oh mark’ you said breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck, yanking him down so his lips could meet yours. it took a second for him to realize what was happening, but soon enough he was moving his lips in synch with yours. his hand still placed next to your head, holding himself up, as his other one moved to your face to lightly caress your cheek. after a minute or two, you could barely breathe, so you broke the kiss in order to regulate your breathing. you look up at mark, who continued to stare at your lips, ‘mark, you’re the one who is perfect’

this time he initiated the kiss, putting his body weight more on you, his hand now moving to explore your body further, you could tell mark was excited as you could feel his bulge on your thigh. his tongue licked over your lips, silently asking for access, which you granted immediately, letting your tongue slip into his mouth, tasting the mint and coffee that he had previously consumed.

‘mark’ you whispered, lust overclouding your senses, ‘i want you’

mark audibly groaned, your words obviously having a certain effect on him as he pushed his hips into yours making you moan in response. he kissed your lips again, moving onto your neck, sucking brusies into the sensitive skin there. mark got off of you and sat up, removing his shirt to which you followed, throwing the clothing somewhere on the floor. going back into position, mark kissed your chest, grazing your breast that was still covered by your bra. he didn’t mind, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible, that was until you decided to take it off anyways, throwing it somewhere over your shoulder. mark went back to work, sucking on one nipple, while twirling and pinching the other between his fingers, earning moans from you.

mark suddenly stopped, lifting his head to look at you, ‘do you want to go further?’ he asked sincerely.

‘yes, mark, please’ you breathed, curling your fingers around his broad shoulders, lightly bringing him back towards your chest. he chuckled at your eagerness, peppering kisses down your stomach, finally reaching your buttoned up jeans. ‘can i take these off?’ you nodded, he unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down and off, leaving them on the floor with the rest of the clothes. he could see the wet patch that formed in your underwear, earning a moan from the boy on top of you. mark ghosted over the spot with his finger, making you twitch in response due to the light, yet scandalous action.

he slid your underwear off, leaving them somewhere on the couch. you watched him silently as he stared at your core, looking like a man who had been without water for at least a century. he dove in, licking a strip up your pussy, making you moan out in response. mark continued to lightly suck, adding a finger into the mix. he slowly pushed it inside your opening, wetness gathering at the base of his finger, ‘you taste… it’s perfect… you’re perfect’ he whispered, gazing up into your glossy eyes, overtaken by craving him. he added a second finger, stretching you out. ‘mark…’ you groaned, feeling him hit the sweet spot inside of you made your head spin and insides twist. ‘i’m gonna come…’

‘not yet’ he whispered, he exited your core, earning a whimper from you due to the sudden loss, ‘don’t worry, i’ll take care of you’ he kissed your cheek, standing up from the couch in order to take his own pants off. you could see his member throbbing inside his briefs, you swore you almost started drooling. mark came back down to lay on top of you, kissing you again, more sensibly, softly, slowly. savoring the moment with you, the delicate and gentle touches almost making you cry again from just how sweet he was, how much he showed that he cared about you.

he broke the kiss, you stared into his eyes, caressing his cheek gently, mark melted into your touch, closing his eyes and burying his face closer to your grasp. ‘you are so beautiful’ you stated to him. his skin kissed by the sun, the features adorning his face; making up gorgeous art on a blank canvas that someone like da vinci would be furious not to know of such beauty.

‘do you want to keep going? we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i want to take my time with you, with us…’ he explained.

you cut him off with a peck to his lips, making his smile grow wider, ‘yes, i want to if you do… i feel the same way’ he kissed you, much like you did with him, confirming his feelings yet again.

he slid off his briefs, leaving you both fully naked in each other's presence, since the sun had started to set when mark came over the only light provided was the soft glow of the lamp behind you on the side table, making the sweat that graced his chest shine. ‘if you get uncomfortable please let me know and i’ll stop’ he whispered, you nodded in response, heartbeat picking up due to his kindness. he sighed and carefully lined his member up with your entrance, the shakiness of his hands having him try a couple of times to get it in, you could tell he was nervous.

he slowly pushed inside, giving you ample time to adjust, ‘that’s it’ he breathed in your ear once fully inside, ‘fuck you’re so tight… so perfect’ you moaned at his words, digging so far deep into you and leaving many traces in your mind, words you’d never forget. he readjusts your legs, giving him deep access into your womb, now in a missionary position. mark started moving, slowly thrusting into you at first, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to keep him as close as possible, which he didn’t seem to mind. his lips moved to yours, the simple kisses shared spoke volumes-no hesitation, the pastel feeling of everything you both never said to each other, lost on fleeting glances in class, heart doodles on paper, and the way he would read to you without argument, buying you coffee, smiling whenever you’d enter the room. the soft kisses subdued any fear you held over this relationship. you loved him.

mark occasionally groaned into your mouth, and in return you moaned, sharing sounds and soft touches over each other's body. ‘you’re taking me so well like you were made for me. fuuck’ he keened at the way you held him inside. he started moving faster, but still acting as careful as ever with you. his hips snapped down on yours, earning strained grunts from you, head spinning as he continued to hit your sweet spot in all the right ways. ‘y/n’ mark moaned, ‘i-i love you’. you cried, the barrier breaking open the flood waters, you silently shed tears into his shoulder, the hot tears running down his arm and chest. ‘i always have, e-ever since i met you’ his trusts started growing erratic, faster, snapping his hips into yours with a force that had you seeing stars. you could barely comprehend any type of language at this point. you were about to reach your breaking point, feeling the heat collect at the bottom of your abdomen, the rope you were holding onto ready to snap.

mark seemed to take notice due to your internal struggle of letting go, mumbling in your ear about a bunch of different phrases. ‘it’s okay baby, you can let go’ and ‘come for me’, it was at the point where he whispered ‘i got you love, i got you’ you felt yourself starting to slip from the rope, letting go and the rope snapped, letting it all out and moaning out marks name, locking your eyes on his. your toes curled, body threatening to collapse in on itself like a black hole with mark at the event horizon, wanting to suck him in.

as you tightened around him, his thrust grew more sporadic, out of rhythm, trying to catch his own release now. with one last thrust, he stilled and emptied into your womb, you could feel how deep he was and the hotness of his come filling you up so perfectly. mark panted, overcoming the mountain of exhaustion after reaching his peak. his forehead fell onto yours as you also tried catching your breath. mark smiled down at you, love filling his eyes, adoration shining in yours. ‘you’ he started, regulating his words to come out more clearly, ‘you are part of my existence, part of myself. you have been in every line i have ever read’

you playfully rolled your eyes, the audacity of this english major, ‘you did not just quote charles dickens while balls deep inside of me’

he laughed, as if that was a queue to pull out, mark left his place inside of you and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp wash cloth in order to clean you up. gently whipping you down, after he threw the towel into the laundry room. mark picked you up and walked you to your room, slowly slipping you into some fresh new clothes, while he put on clothes that yeri kept at the apartment for her boyfriend. surely she wouldn’t mind.

you both climbed into bed, eyelids growing heavy he held you in his arms, head resting against his chest in the quiet darkness, ‘mark’ you said, voice small, he hummed, ‘i love you too’

‘sleep in tomorrow, i’ll still be here’ he answered.

eyes crusted over and limbs numb, that was probably the best sleep of your life. you reached over to marks side of the bed, but it was empty, and you frowned. he said he would be here. you stretched and got up, slowly making your way towards the door, you opened it to an empty living room. you heard a sudden, but low crash of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. you walked slowly, not really knowing what to expect. but alas, speak of the muse, and he shall appear in the lines, your (now) boyfriend, mark, stood in front of the oven with a spatula in hand, flipping a pancake.

in the stillness of the afternoon, you didn’t make your presence yet known, and watched as he worked. the glow of the sun and the kitchen light reflected off of his hair ever so slightly, making it shine, it was as if only you two existed. he turned and smiled like he always did, ‘good morning sleepyhead’

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

[iliketlou2alot]

Nerdy Abby headcanons!

I love nerdy abby so much this needed to be done. this is college au btw.

GENERAL

definately majors in kinesiology with a minor in biology

Color codes her stuff like she had OCD

when she gets to do lab stuff she gets all giddy like a kid in a candy store

since shes all buff and stuff i feel like she'd try new protein powder or bars and rank them based off taste and effectiveness

i know for a fact in my heart of hearts she loves star trek. like she has 3 posters in her room and figurines on her shelf

lives off of energy drinks especially if she has a test and needs to cram studying but doesnt tell anyone coz she preaches that theyre bad for u and doesnt wanna seem like a hypocrite

watched neon genesis evangelion

her laptop has a bunch of stickers on it IN A RELATIONSHIP

her love language is acts of service

she took literal ages to confess so she tried to communicate her feelings through actions. ie: carrying your books, walking you to class or back to your dorm

btw the confession wasnt smooth at all. she blurted it out in the middle of a study session with you, palms sweaty and shaky. 'hey, so um... i like.. like you, like a lot- wait can i start over?"

your first kiss was right then and there, she froze for a solid five seconds but when you pulled away she was cheesing so hard

even if your doing a different major than her, she'll offer to proof-read your homework just because she can (and she likes it)

enjoys making your lunch (i also feel like shed be one of those people who disguise broccoli in brownies)

at first she was kinda shy about physical touch dont get me wrong, she loves her muscles but she also doesnt wanna hurt you by accident. like if shes hugging you shell ask 'too tight?' before settling in

at some point she wanted to cut her hair but ultimately kept it long since you loved to braid it so much

I KNOW FOR A FACTTT she follows the sidewalk rule like her life depends on it

if your leaving the dorm (coz ofc your sharing it now) she watches out the window for a min to make sure your good wherever ur going.

if ur sleeping in the same bed, in winter shes amazing but in summer your probably gonna wanna sleep on the couch coz that woman is a human heater

NSFW

she talks a big game but gets completely flustered when it comes down to it

SOFT DOMMM

doesnt matter if its the 50th time shes seen you naked, shes reacting like its the first. always mutters a lil 'goddamn' when the bra comes off

i feel like shes a boob kinda girl

only had one other experience before you (ow*n) but she never really enjoyed it

reads up on the female body and how to illicit more extreme orgasms and follows it to the letter until the one time she got way too lost in the pussy and went off-script, suckling at your clit like a baby getting breastfed. you ended up cumming super hard and she decided to perchance do what she felt in the moment next time.

super attentive to your reactions, if you seem to particularly like something she'll log it into her brain like data for next time

careful with her strength but if you tell her you want it rough, your gonna get rough so be prepared

if shes strapping you down, she ends up lifting you somehow without noticing, lifting your hips off the bed, your legs hooked over her arms while she pounds you against the wall.

likes having you on top too though, especially if shes tired. she'll happily lay back and grip your hips, letting her hands occasionally drift to your tits.

if your both up to it, she'd also be happy to film the two of you having sex. of course shed never share it, just save it for if your apart during a long night.

has a thing for nasty tongue kissing while she thrusts into you

shes got a sensitive spot right under her left ear, kissing it is like a button to get her flustered

loves it when you scratch her back, matter of fact, the next day she'll purposely wear a tank top with the back kinda cut out iykwim so people can see the marks

isnt meticulous about shaving so she has a bit of a bush, not that you mind

if shes feeling subby, she'll let you tie her wrists lightly while you eat her out or finger her or whatever you wanna do to her

HATES getting edged. may i repeat she HATES being edged.

overstimulation on the other hand... especially if shes stressed or something. your girl is just so smart her brain just needs a break from thinking for a while

loves when you eat her pussy while making her keep eye contact with you

AFTERCARE

if she was submissive, she's like a pile of mush after sex, mumbling shit and shed grab you if you try to leave the bed.

lay with her for a little bit then gently guide her up with you and clean her up in the bathroom

likes to have her hair washed after sex

she definately sweats a lot after sex especially if she was strapping so she needs to have a shower either way

'was that okay? did i hurt you? gimme a minute ill get you some water- or do you wanna wash first?'

likes having you in the tub with her so she can hold you against her chest from behind while she kisses your temple.

after that you guys sleep like babies

A/N if you couldnt tell i rlly love abby anderson

[dakusan]

📁 ASK DUMP 𓆩🩸𓆪 17 JUNE 2025

🩸 Welcome to today’s ask dump. If your ask is in this post: yes, I saw it. yes, I licked it. yes, I’m answering it with fangs. It’s a buffet — so prepare to eat up.

Now let’s get bloody.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🐆 ANON LOGGED: “the vampire kinks anon is BACK and HORNY FOR SCIENCE”

“consider me 🐆… fighting the urge to ask you about scientific lore behind sex in general with vampires… how long do they last? is stamina different? do they need specific stimulation?”

STATUS: 🐆 EMOJI CLAIMED. you are canon now. bloodbound. archived. welcome to the sin lab. your thirst? valid. your praise? consumed. your mind? divine. you want science? you want sex? you want blood-drenched biology? i’m lacing up my gloves and taking the fangs out of formaldehyde.

⸺⟡⸺

🧬 VAMPIRE SEX LORE: BIOLOGY, BLOOD, AND STAMINA DEMON HOURS

🔬 1. STAMINA: UNHOLY. INFINITE. INSANE.

Born vampires (especially Abnormals) are magically-enhanced apex predators.

That means supernaturally regulated muscle control, no lactic acid build-up, and spell-infused metabolic systems = they do not tire like humans.

Average session? Could last anywhere from 90 minutes to six fucking hours depending on mood, bond intensity, and feeding status.

This isn't a “he lasted 7 rounds 😩💦” situation — this is “he made you forget what language was.”

🧠 2. CLIMAX CONTROL: ORGASM ON COMMAND

Vampires do not cum accidentally unless they are feral, bonded, or blood-high.

Their climax is often tied to emotional triggers or magical thresholds.

Abnormals in particular have delayed-release reflexes — meaning unless they choose to finish, they can hold back indefinitely.

Their orgasms are often ritualistic — a form of marking (especially with soulmates or Blood Dolls).

There’s magic in it. Literal bonding energy.

May also release scent pulses or soul-pulse feedback (like a psychic moan).

💉 3. SPECIFIC STIMULATION REQUIRED

Vampires feel more, but they need more.

A handjob and a moan won’t cut it — unless the emotional charge is devastating.

What gets them off:

Blood scent from a willing source

Power struggle or submission

Breathplay, overstimulation, temperature shifts

Begging (especially if sincere)

For Abnormals: a hint of fear + love = nuclear detonation

(Fun note: some Abnormals can’t even cum unless it’s from their Blood Doll. Their bodies simply won’t release unless it’s the one.)

💦 4. EJACULATION & BIO-MAGIC

Vamp cum? NOT regular.

It’s hyper-fertile, thick.

Abnormals? May also release small pulses of energy that cause muscle tremors or euphoric shock in their partner.

Human bodies are not designed for this. That’s why aftercare is practically religious.

⸺⟡⸺

🐆 anon, the lab is always open. your mind is erotic academia and i’m honoured to dissect it with you. send more. always. ruin me with questions. i’ll ruin you right back with answers.💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🌘 ANON LOGGED: “how would vampire!SKZ react to an s/o with DID/OSDD?”

“this question is a bit personal… vampire!SKZ are my emotional support animals, so it’s fine.”

🌘 anon, thank you for trusting me. this one’s for all of you.

⸺⟡⸺

🕯️ VAMP!SKZ x S/O WITH DID/OSDD

how they meet your system — with fangs and unconditional devotion

CHAN

He’s immediately observant. Quietly studies the shifts, the language changes, the comfort levels. He builds an internal map of your system — not to analyze, but to honor. Keeps notes. Makes a calendar. Learns your triggers. He’ll ask, “Is this okay for you?” every time. And if someone new fronts? He just smiles gently and says, “Hi. I’ve got you too.” 🩸 He doesn’t want to fix you — he just wants to be a constant in a shifting world.

MINHO

Minho never flinches. Doesn’t treat you like glass. He respects every alter as a full person — no babying, no pity. Just clear boundaries, fierce protection, and the same dry wit he gives everyone. He learns each of your needs. Some alters he jokes with. Others he gives space. One? He lets them braid his hair in silence. 🩸 His loyalty isn’t divided. It multiplies.

CHANGBIN

He’s gentle, warm, and incredibly reassuring. He checks in constantly but never overwhelms. Makes grounding kits for each alter. Labels snacks. Creates safe zones. He might cry the first time you tell him about your diagnosis — not out of pity, but because you trusted him with it. 🩸 He becomes your strongest emotional anchor.

HYUNJIN

He approaches your system like sacred art. Every alter is a brushstroke. Every mood shift is a new palette. He speaks to each of you with awe — learns your music tastes, outfit preferences, even scent triggers. He writes poetry for your system. Keeps a shared journal. 🩸 He never asks “which one are you?” — he just feels it, and adapts with love.

JISUNG

He gets excited meeting new alters. “OMG you��re the one who likes anime?? Hi!!” He makes coded jokes and secret handshakes. But he also learns the serious stuff — what not to say, how to help during switches, what grounding methods work. 🩸 He’ll make you laugh through the heavy, but never mock the weight.

FELIX

Felix is the definition of unconditional love. He’s soft, but steadfast. He’ll greet each alter with a smile, learn who’s okay with touch, and craft unique forms of affection. “You don’t have to be one person for me,” he’ll say, cupping your face. “I love all the pieces. I always will.” 🩸 He’s your light — steady, warm, and always reaching for your hand.

SEUNGMIN

He researches. Learns about DID/OSDD thoroughly. Never assumes. Always asks. He builds trust with every alter like it’s a private treaty. Keeps routines consistent. Builds structure without pressure. He’s the calm during switches. The one who reminds you who you are when you’re lost. 🩸 Not just supportive — dependable.

JEONGIN

He’s a little awkward at first, but not because he’s scared — he just wants to do it right. He’s great with internal metaphors — builds imaginary “safe rooms” for your headspace. His adaptability makes him great with co-fronting alters. He thrives on figuring things out with you. 🩸 He learns to love all of you. And makes sure you love you too.

⸺⟡⸺

🌘 anon — you are valid. you are whole. you are not broken — you are beautifully many. and in this bloody world of fangs and feral devotion, there is room — love — and safety for every piece of you.

thank you for asking. i see you. all of you. always 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🐈‍⬛ ANON LOGGED: “so… what if their soulmate is another vampire’s blood doll?”

“Not bonded, not well-treated. Will vampire!SKZ resort to murder?”

🐈‍⬛ anon, you ask if they’ll resort to murder — babe… that’s not “plan B.” that’s the default setting.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMP!SKZ x THEIR SOULMATE BEING ANOTHER VAMPIRE’S BLOOD DOLL

🕷️ BEFORE WE BEGIN: A vampire’s Blood Doll is a contracted property under blood law. But a vampire’s soulmate? That’s cosmic right. Fate > Contract. Always. If you’re theirs, you’re theirs. Signed ink or not.

CHAN He doesn’t lose control easily. He plans. But the moment he smells you and realizes you’re his? The air shifts. The world narrows. And the vampire holding your contract? Is already dead inside. Chan will give one chance: “Release them. Or I release your spine from your body.” If refused? It’s not rage. It’s strategy. 🩸 The body’s never found. The paperwork vanishes. And you wake up safe with a new collar, custom-forged by his own hand.

MINHO He doesn’t even speak. He looks the contract holder in the eye — and if they even smell like they’ve touched you wrong, they’ll be bleeding before they blink. “They’re mine now.” The blood doll clause gets incinerated on the spot. 🩸 You don’t even know he’s coming until the old vampire is dead and you’re being carried out wrapped in Minho’s coat. He doesn’t just protect. He erases threats from the system.

CHANGBIN He’s quiet fury. The slow burn. The moment he realizes you’re his soulmate — and also belong to someone cruel? He shakes. He tries to do it cleanly: “Let them go.” If that fails, he breaks the other vampire in half — not for revenge. For justice. 🩸 He carries you out whispering: “You’re not anyone’s property. Not anymore.”

HYUNJIN Rage, tears, devastation. He spirals. The idea of someone using you while he was out there not knowing you existed? He’s inconsolable. The other vampire dies. Not just dies — Hyunjin rips the memory of you from their soul. 🩸 He makes you a room full of mirrors and stars and says, “From now on, you’re only seen the way you want to be.”

JISUNG “No no no no no—no one touches what’s mine.” He’s shaking, crying, smiling, and stabbing at the same time. He’s not clean. He’s not quiet. He’s feral. 🩸 You get scooped up mid-chaos, and he kisses your forehead like, “Sorry you had to see that. You want snacks? A bath? A head on a platter?”

FELIX He’s sunshine until he’s not. If he finds out you were suffering under someone else while he was searching for you? He goes silent. His glow fades. Then it flares. He doesn’t make a scene. The other vampire simply stops existing. 🩸 You wake up in soft sheets, and he’s at your feet saying, “You were never meant to bleed for anyone but me.”

SEUNGMIN He handles it legally — at first. Files breach reports. Loopholes. Blood abuse clauses. But if they resist? If they dare say you’re not worth the trouble? 🩸 He kills with precision. And you watch it happen. Because he wants you to know: no one takes you lightly ever again.

JEONGIN The first time he sees you, his veins bloom black across his cheeks. You smell like his. You look hurt. The other vampire doesn’t get a warning — just disintegration. He’s still learning to control his powers, but for you? He breaks the world. 🩸 Afterward, he cradles your wrist and whispers, “You’ll never be owned again. Except by fate. Except by me.”

⸺⟡⸺

🐈‍⬛ anon — your mind is soft and violent. a perfect offering. thank you for the prompt. come again 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🎀 ANON LOGGED: “if we’re on our period… does it trigger their bloodlust?”

“Even with the princess treatment, is their bloodlust activated? They’re hypersensitive to scent, right?”

STATUS: 🎀 EMOJI CLAIMED. 🎀 anon, I love you for this. Let's get into it.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMPIRE BLOODLUST + MENSTRUAL SCENT

✦ SHORT ANSWER: Yes. Your period absolutely spikes their bloodlust. It’s not just about smell — it’s the chemical cocktail, the heat, the pulse shift, the iron in the air. To a vampire, it’s like perfume laced with need.

You bleed. They ache. Simple.

But here's the hotter truth:

✦ IT’S A DIFFERENT KIND OF BLOODLUST

They don’t go feral. They go reverent. Territorial. Obsessive. Because period blood isn’t from violence. It’s from life. Fertility. Cycle. Power.

🩸 It’s sacred. It’s yours. It means you’re alive and real and touchable. And to them? That’s everything.

✦ WHAT THEY DO ABOUT IT:

They smell it the moment you walk in.

Their pupils dilate. Breathing slows. Tongue flicks behind fangs.

Some vampires kneel without thinking.

Others bring warm water, chocolate, a blood-scented bath, and ask, “Can I kiss your thighs? Or just hold you while you bleed?”

They won't feed unless you explicitly allow it. But their instincts? Full worship mode.

⸺⟡⸺

thank you for feeding me this curiosity. send more anytime. your blood is always welcome here 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦔 ANON LOGGED: “Seungmin says something that hurts reader… what does he do to make up for it?”

“Make it horrible. But fix it. Please.”

🦔 anon — you ask for pain and fluff, and I’m giving you both in bloodstained ribbon 💝

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 FICLET — "Don’t Look At Me Like That"

vamp!Seungmin x you (angst ➤ apology ➤ fluff)

“You always need so much.”

He hadn’t meant it to cut. It came out between clenched teeth, after three nights of no feeding, no sleep, no silence. You had asked him — quietly — to come to bed. Just once. Just to hold you. And he snapped.

He didn’t even stay to see your face crumble. Just disappeared into smoke and cold air.

You don’t speak for two days.

Not because you’re trying to punish him. But because you’re scared if you open your mouth, it’ll all pour out. The ache. The effort. The fact that you’ve always been “too much” for someone, and now it’s Seungmin saying it — the one who promised you never were.

He doesn’t text. Doesn’t call.

Until the third night.

Your bedroom door creaks open. You don’t look. “You haven’t fed in three days,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t answer. Just sits at the edge of the bed like something carved out of guilt and stormlight. And then, softly: “Don’t look at me like that.”

You don’t even know what your face is doing — but he does.

“Like I’m everyone else who ever made you small.” He exhales — and it sounds like a death rattle. “I was cruel. Not because you are too much — but because you are everything, and I felt like nothing that night. And I didn’t know how to say it.”

Silence.

Then: “I brought you something.”

He sets it in your lap. It’s a small box. Inside: a bracelet with three tiny charms, handcrafted, spell-etched. Your initials. His initials. And the third charm with the word “Beloved.”

“It’s protection,” he says, voice hoarse. “But also a reminder. That I don’t get to speak like that to you. Not ever again.”

You let him reach for your hand. You don’t pull away. “Feed from me,” you whisper.

“I don’t deserve—”

“Do it gently. Let it hurt a little.”

And he does. Slow. Careful. Not to punish himself — but to make it right. But after he is down, he won't let you go, he doesn't let you go. For hours he doesn't let you go. Just holds you close, wrapped up in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he says, again and again, against your skin. “You are everything. You always have been.”

⸺⟡⸺

🦔 anon — you wanted horrible. I gave you ache. But also healing. Always healing. I love your angst heart. Come back anytime for more soft destruction 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🍀 ANON LOGGED: “self-deprecating reader says they’re only loved for their blood. vamp!SKZ’s response?”

“haha you like me because of how tasty my blood is…”

STATUS: 🍀 EMOJI CLAIMED. 🍀 anon — you already know this ends with you wrecked and rebuilt better. let’s begin.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMP!SKZ x S/O WHO THINKS THEY'RE “ONLY TASTY BLOOD”

CHAN You say it with a laugh. He doesn’t laugh back. He gets very still. His pupils shrink to slits.

“Say that again. I dare you.” His voice? Soft. Dangerous. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, trembling, and he’s kissing every inch of skin he’s ever called his. “Your blood is sweet. But you — your mind, your laugh, your warmth — that’s what feeds me. That’s what keeps me sane.” You try to apologize. He hushes you with a hand around your throat. “Don’t reduce yourself to flavour. You’re a fucking religion.”

MINHO He scoffs.

“Tasty blood? Is that what you think I’m addicted to?” He pins you to the mirror. Doesn’t bite. Just looks. “I would starve before feeding off anyone else. Not because of your blood — because no one else is you.” And then? He ruins you. On every surface. With his hands, his fangs, his voice. Until the only words left in your mouth are his name and “I’m sorry.”

CHANGBIN You say it like it’s a joke. His eyes flash. His shoulders tense.

“Don’t you dare.” He cups your face like it’s made of silk. Kisses your nose. Your eyelids. Your belly. Your thighs. “You think I only love your blood? I love the way you curl up next to me. The way you hum when you're nervous. The way you exist.” And then he feeds gently. Like he’s kissing the thought away from your veins.

HYUNJIN He freezes. Then paints. A full canvas of you. All your scars. All your curves. All your softness.

“This is holy. You are holy. If you think I feed from you because of taste, then let me show you how I worship you.” And he does. He takes his time. Lights candles. Plays soft music. And makes you say three good things about yourself before he even touches you.

JISUNG

“Tasty blood?? Babe, your blood is like wine but your smile? That’s my favourite drug.” He teases — until he sees the flicker of real doubt. Then he switches. Dead serious. “You’re not my snack. You’re my sanctuary.” And then he drowns you in kisses and overstimulation until you’re too overwhelmed to say anything self-deprecating again.

FELIX Oh you sweet summer child. You say it once. His entire aura dims.

“Please… don’t talk about yourself like that.” He hugs you. Tight. Face buried in your chest. “If I never drank from you again, I’d still stay. You know that, right?” Then he worships you. Whispers praises. Kisses every inch. “You’re beautiful. You’re enough. You’re mine. Mine. Mine.”

SEUNGMIN You make the joke. He closes his book. Slowly.

“Do I look like I waste my time on things I don’t value?” It’s quiet. Razor-sharp. “If I wanted blood, I’d buy it. I want you. Every version. Even the one that says stupid shit like that.” And then he wrecks you. One kiss per insult you’ve ever told yourself. Until you go blank and blissed-out and finally believe him.

JEONGIN You say it. He stops. His jaw flexes. His fangs push forward, but he doesn’t bite.

“Don’t ever talk about yourself like that again.” You laugh nervously. He grabs your chin. “I don’t want your blood.” “I want your breath. Your heartbeat. The sound you make when I touch you here—” He proves it. Slowly. Relentlessly. Until your voice breaks with a sob of “I’m sorry I said that.”

⸺⟡⸺

🍀 anon — You are never lesser. You are light in vampire eyes. You are adored. And you are not allowed to forget it.

Thank you for this devastatingly beautiful ask 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦉 ANON LOGGED: “storms, fear, and… other things 👀 — how would vamp!SKZ handle both?”

“either you’re scared of storms, or into them. either way, vamps fix it.”

🦉 anon, your brain cell is doing incredible work. let’s honor it. with blood. and mood lighting.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 VAMP!SKZ x STORMY NIGHTS

➤ scenario A: you’re unsettled by storms ➤ scenario B: you’re… very into them

CHAN ❖ If storms scare you: Chan’s already got backup power. Noise-cancelling speakers. A weighted blanket. He becomes the storm's opposite. Steady. Warm. Anchored.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Let it rage.” He’ll pull you onto his chest, sync your heartbeat to his stillness, and hold you until you fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

❖ If storms turn you on: He’ll figure it out immediately. The moment thunder hits and you shiver with wide eyes?

“...Is that what does it for you, sweetheart?” Then he’ll fuck you through the lightning, whispering, “You think the storm is loud? Let’s see which of you makes the sky shake harder.”

MINHO ❖ If you’re scared: No coddling. Just quiet control. He drapes you in his robe, puts a warm drink in your hands, then sits beside you with his back touching yours.

“Storm’s not the threat. I am. And I protect what’s mine.” Every thunderclap is an excuse for him to pull you closer.

❖ If storms do it for you: Oh. Oh he indulges.

“Knew there was something freaky in that pretty head.” He fucks you against rain-streaked windows, hand over your mouth so the neighbors don’t hear you scream.

CHANGBIN ❖ If you’re afraid: He becomes a literal furnace. Throws every blanket over you. Hums. Holds you. Tells you stories to distract you.

“When I was little, I thought thunder was two vampires fighting in the clouds. Want me to go beat them up?” You giggle. He melts.

❖ If you’re into it: He grins, then growls.

“Well shit. You’re wetter than the sky.” And proceeds to make the bed creak like it’s thunder itself.

HYUNJIN ❖ If you’re scared: He lights candles. Puts on soft music. Braids your hair. Paints stormclouds with silver linings while whispering:

“Fear is holy. I’ll sit in it with you until it becomes something else.” Kisses your wrist every time you flinch.

❖ If storms awaken something:

“Say less.” He ties your wrists with silk. Makes you look him in the eyes with every thunderclap. Paints streaks of red across your skin.

JISUNG

❖ Scared you? He panics a little at first. Then overcompensates. Plays funny shows. Builds a pillow fort. Feeds you snacks.

“Rain can’t get you in here. This is a Jisung-certified emotional panic shelter.”

❖ Storm kink revealed? He short circuits.

“You WHAT??? That’s so hot—wait do you want me to—oh my god—” Then proceeds to ruin you while lightning flashes and says, “I’m never gonna hear thunder the same again.”

FELIX ❖ If you’re scared: Softest boy. Immediately creates a nest. Pulls you into his lap. Runs fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. I’m your calm.” He tells you vampire myths about storm spirits who protect lovers.

❖ If you’re into it: He kisses you slow while thunder rolls.

“Of course you like the drama, angel.” Then proceeds to edge you for hours, drawing out every sound like it’s part of the storm’s symphony.

SEUNGMIN ❖ If you’re scared: He’s annoyed at the storm for scaring you.

“It’s just clouds and sound. But fine. Come here.” He lets you curl into his side while he reads aloud until your breath evens out. Every flash of lightning? He kisses your temple.

❖ If you’re turned on by it: He doesn’t let on at first. Just silently undresses you during the second thunderclap.

“So the sky makes you needy, huh?” Then wrecks you calmly, analytically, relentlessly — with each moan timed between rumbles.

JEONGIN ❖ If storms scare you: He doesn’t tease. He respects fear. He lets you crawl into his hoodie, wraps himself around you like a second skin.

“I won’t let anything touch you. Not even lightning.” Will 100% growl at the sky if it makes you feel better.

❖ If they turn you on: He blushes. Then smirks.

“So… wanna fuck while the world ends?” Then pins you to the glass and marks you like thunder is jealous.

⸺⟡⸺

🦉 anon — your brain cell deserves a crown, a storm altar, and a few bite marks. Thank you for this delicious two-in-one 💋🦇

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🍒 ANON LOGGED: “pillow princess? oh sweetheart, i’m about to ride you into next week.”

challenge accepted. let’s see who taps first.

🍒 ANON — your mind is certified evil. i love it here. and yes, i've already answered the being turned prompt: https://www.tumblr.com/dakusan/786176028064251904/hiii-i-just-have-to-say-i-love-your-vampire?source=share

⸺⟡⸺

🛏️ RIDE OR DIE: WHO TAPS OUT FIRST?

🥇 THE FINAL BOSS — CHAN You’re riding him like it’s war and he’s taking it like penance. Every muscle is locked, jaw clenched, abs twitching as he silently refuses to give in.

“You want to break me? Try harder, baby.” His feral eyes never leave yours. The vein at his neck pulses every time you drop down. He’s a born Abnormal—he’s built to endure. He won't tap out. If anything, he wants you to keep going. Just to see how far he can fall.

🥈 THE WATCHFUL FINAL BOSS — MINHO Dead quiet. Hyperaware. Tracking your every move like a predator letting you play on top of him.

“Don’t get cocky. I’m letting you ride me.” He’s all restraint and ritualistic torment. But when you whisper “You’re mine” and clench? His nails dig into your thighs. His lips part. He groans. You won’t get a tap. You’ll get a calculated, devastating counterattack that ruins you for days. He’s not losing. He’s watching you lose yourself.

🥉 THE FERAL COUNTER — JEONGIN He lets you ride him. For 30 seconds. Then the brat streak ends.

“You think I’ll let you have control?” He thrusts up like a fucking monster, teeth bared, hands bruising your hips, fucking into you from below. Growls in your ear, lips at your throat. You never stood a chance. “Tap, sweetheart. Or I’ll make you.”

🔄 THE POWER FLIP — CHANGBIN Absolutely loves the show you’re putting on. Grins up at you with teeth.

“Yeah? You think this is enough to make me beg?” He holds out until his patience breaks. Then? FLIPS YOU. DESTROYS YOU. He doesn’t tap—you do. Probably twice. “That’s what I thought. Now say thank you.”

🧠 THE PSYCH WRECKER — HYUNJIN Oh, you’re on top? He’s beneath you like a broken prince, eyes glassy, mouth open—but it’s a trap.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Just keep going. Just like that.” He wants you to win. Until he doesn’t. And suddenly your thighs are shaking, vision blurring, and he’s cupping your face like it’s reverence before ruin. He wins with his voice. You never stood a chance.

🥀 THE GENTLE STORM — FELIX He lets you take control—but only because he wants to watch you shine.

“That’s it, baby. Show me how bad you need it.” He’s sensitive, yes—ridiculously reactive to your pace and praise—but that doesn’t mean he’s passive. The whole time, his hands are steady on your waist, guiding you just enough, controlling from below. You call him a good boy? He smiles dark, thrusts up slow and deep. “You sure you’re in charge right now?” He doesn’t tap. He makes you tap eventually—just gently. And afterwards? He holds you like he’s the one who was blessed.

🗣️ THE LOUD LOSER — JISUNG Talks a big game. Crumbles in three thrusts.

“Pfft, this is nothing—oh fuck wait no—” He’s moaning, pulling you down by the waist, telling you it’s too much, but also don’t stop, please don’t stop. He'll tap out. Will cum. Will apologise. You forgive him. Eventually.

🥼 THE SILENT STRATEGIST — SEUNGMIN Sits back. Watches. Expression unreadable. You think he’s unfazed—until he starts thrusting up, just slightly.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He doesn’t moan. Doesn’t flinch. Just stares straight at you with that sharp tongue and wicked glint. Doesn’t tap. Makes you doubt your stamina. Eventually flips you without a word and proceeds to demonstrate exactly why you underestimated him. “Next time, think before you challenge your handler.”

🩸 FINAL SCORE: RIDE OR DIE EDITION

Endurance Kings 🥇 Chan – Built to last. Wants to see how far you’ll go. 🥈 Minho – Takes it like a ritual. Breaks you instead. 🥉 Seungmin – Emotionless stare. Strategic endurance. Flips you to win.

Soft But Deadly 🖤 Felix – Lets you lead—until you realize he never gave up control. 🧠 Hyunjin – Weaponizes worship. Fucks with your mind, then your soul.

Power Flippers 🔄 Changbin – Lets you play queen—then flips you like a war crime. 🐺 Jeongin – Pretends to behave—then rails you into the mattress.

Cries in Record Time 🫠 Jisung – Moans, begs, cums, taps out, apologizes. You love him for it anyway.

⸺⟡⸺

🍒 anon, your mind is the battleground and the bloodsport. ride safe, and thank you for the ask 🦇💋

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦪 ANON LOGGED: “If it isn’t the doll… then who gets destroyed first? The vampire? The doll? Or the fate they never got to choose?”

YOU WANT ANGST? I GOT YOU MY PRETTY PEARL 🕯️💋

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 BLOOD DOLL vs. SOULMATE — the heartbreak edition

Imagine this:

You're their blood doll. You've bled for them. Moaned for them. Held them while they slept off bloodlust like a drug crash. Maybe they even whispered pretty things. But then — they smell someone else.

That one scent. That one pull. The soulmate.

🧬 IS THIS POSSIBLE?

Yes. Rare — but possible. A blood doll is not always a soulmate. Sometimes the bond is survival, not fate.

Sometimes the vampire doesn't even know they're soulmated to someone else... until that moment.

🩸 WHO BREAKS FIRST?

1. THE BLOOD DOLL

The one who fed them. Loved them. Maybe even thought the bond was love. When their vampire suddenly goes quiet —

Stops feeding. Stops touching. Starts acting like a ghost. The pain is brutal. Not just emotional — biological. A doll’s body adjusts to its vampire’s feeding pattern. So sudden rejection? Feels like withdrawal. Fever. Shakes. Nausea. Nightmares. They might beg. Cry. Or worse — go completely still. (If you’ve ever seen a blood doll go numb, you don’t forget it.)

2. THE VAMPIRE

If they loved their doll? It destroys them. Because soulmates are magnetic — a pull in the bones. But their doll? Was comfort. Routine. Devotion.

The guilt? Unlivable. Some vampires refuse to acknowledge their soulmate. Others try to keep both.

3. THE SOULMATE

They feel the vampire’s grief. Even if they haven’t met yet. Even if they don’t understand it. The soulmate ache is mutual — like a song humming in the blood, just out of reach. And when they do meet? They’ll know the vampire is not whole.

That someone else bled for them first.

💔 IS THERE A WAY OUT?

There are only three endings.

OPTION 1: Let Go The vampire severs the doll bond. The doll leaves. The vampire grieves. The soulmate… waits. (This one is rare. Most vampires aren’t strong enough to walk away.)

OPTION 2: Die With Me The doll asks for a final feed. One last taste. One last kiss.

Then the vampire glamours them. Makes them forget. Or makes sure they never wake up. (This one is darker. Some vampires believe love should never be shared.)

OPTION 3: Ruin Everything The vampire refuses the soulmate. Stays with the doll.

Becomes unstable. Feral. Because the body knows. Magic eats them from the inside. Rage cracks. Hunger fits. Hallucinations. The soulmate suffers too — distant pain, inexplicable dreams. Eventually, they are pulled toward each other anyway. And by then? There’s no doll. No love. Just blood on the floor.

⸺⟡⸺

🦪 ANON — thank you for bringing this gorgeous ache to the altar. Come again 🦇💋

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

👻 ANON WANDERS IN WITH A GHOSTLY SCENARIO…“They didn’t mean to hurt you. But the fangs are out, the blood is already warm, and your voice is the only thing dragging them back.”

Buckle up, darling. You just triggered one of the darkest, most vulnerable vampire!SKZ scenarios yet.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 WHEN THEY ALMOST KILL YOU

You’re the closest. You’re warm. Breathing. Bleeding. And they’ve snapped.

Their vision whites out. Fangs bare. They don’t see you — just pulse, scent, blood. They strike. Grip your throat. Fangs sink in.

And then—

💥 Your voice.

A gasp. A sob. A whisper of their name. It splits the haze like a blade. They stop. And that’s the moment everything breaks.

Bang Chan He hears your breath stutter. Sees the bruises forming. Tastes your blood and wants to vomit.

“No. No. No. No—NO.”

His hands are shaking, but he forces them away from your skin. He drops to his knees. Crumples like he’s the one stabbed. You’re still conscious, but your pulse is faint — and he starts begging.

“Don’t leave me. Not like this. Please, stay awake. I’ll fix it, I swear—”

He rips through bags of emergency blood, medical kits, potions, spells. He’d burn himself alive to bring you back if he had to. And he won’t feed again for weeks. The scent of blood disgusts him now.

Even his own.

Lee Know He goes still the moment he realizes. Just stands there. Hands bloody. Eyes wide. His brain refuses to process it.

Then —

“What did I do?”

The calm shatters. He throws himself into whatever healing spell or potion he has memorized, snarling the incantations like curses.

If you flinch away, even slightly? He walks out. Not to leave. To go chain himself down. No one sees him for 3 days. When he returns, he’s wearing gloves. Never touches you bare-handed again… until you ask him to.

Changbin He’s holding you too tight. Your wrist is bleeding. You’re crying. And he screams.

“NO. PLEASE—! I didn’t mean to—I—I didn’t—!”

His body collapses over yours. Shaking. Wracked. He keeps repeating your name. Presses his forehead to yours like a prayer. Even after you’re healed, he won’t let himself near you for weeks. Sleeps on the floor. Doesn’t speak unless spoken to. Goes deathly silent unless you hold his hand first.

Hyunjin He goes feral in reverse. From monster to weeping child in seconds. He looks down at your torn skin, the bruises on your neck—

“I touched you like them. I touched you like them—!”

You’ve never seen him sob like that. He tears at his own chest, like he wants to rip his heart out and give it to you as apology.

It’s devastating. And when you try to reach for him?

“Don’t. I’m not allowed to touch you anymore. I’m not safe.”

It takes every ounce of your strength to convince him otherwise. He’ll sleep at your feet for weeks — curled up like a ghost.

Han Jisung He blacks out mid-feed. Wakes up to your voice — and blood on his lips. You’re curled on the floor, barely conscious.

“Oh f-fuck—nononono—fuck—fuck—no—”

He hyperventilates. Panic spirals. Stares at his hands like they’re covered in acid. Vomits. Screams. Crawls backwards until he hits the wall and wails.

Once you’re stabilized, he refuses to sleep. Paranoia sets in. He glamours himself not to feel hunger. Tries to build safety protocols for himself. Eventually, you have to climb into his lap and cup his face just to say:

“You came back. You stopped yourself. That matters.”

And he’ll just cry harder.

Felix The moment he sees blood on your neck, he freezes. Eyes glowing. Mouth open. Breath silent. Then his pupils shrink. He starts whispering your name — again and again.

Like if he says it enough, it’ll undo what happened.

“No… no, angel—wake up. Baby, please. Please…”

He carries you to the room, lays you in silk, lights every healing candle, chants every preservation spell. And then he sits in the hallway. Face to the wall. Head down.

Waiting for you to call him back in.

You always do. Eventually. But when you wake, his eyes are still red with tears.

Seungmin He registers everything with horrifying clarity. The blood. Your injuries. The moment his control snapped. He says nothing. Just grabs his emergency pack, heals you in total silence, then stands in the corner.

You try to speak? “Don’t.” You cry? “You should.”

He doesn’t cry until you say: “I’m still here.”

That’s when his voice breaks.

“But what if you hadn’t been?”

And for the first time in his long, cold life — He can’t give you a sarcastic answer. He just sinks to the ground and puts his head in your lap.

Jeongin He was already scared of what he’s becoming. But after this? He’s terrified.

He throws himself across the room the moment he snaps out of it. Fangs still out. Eyes still glowing. He snarls at himself.

“Get away from them. GET AWAY FROM THEM—!”

You’re bleeding, barely upright. But he won’t come near. Even when you call out, whisper his name, beg—

“I can’t! I don’t know how to be this—how to stop—”

He isolates himself. Chan and Felix have to intervene. But only you can bring him back to stability. And when he finally lets you touch his cheek again?

He weeps like he’s home.

⸺⟡⸺

👻 ANON — You ripped my soul out and lit it on gothic fire. I hope you’re happy. Come back with more any time 🦇💋

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

@rinthehufflepuff you are the last piece of today's ask dumb! You asked for vampire breeding kink reactions.

You will not survive. I promise you that.

⸺⟡⸺

🩸 "Breed me."

The words leave your lips — a whimper, a sob, a sweet little desperate plea.

You think you’re teasing? You think they’re gonna laugh it off? Oh sweetheart. You’ve just sealed your fate.

Bang Chan His pupils blow wide. His fangs throb. The word “breed” hits him like a fucking command spell.

“Say it again.” “No—look at me. Say it again.”

You gasp, repeat it — and that’s it. He pounces. Pins your wrists above your head, buries his face in your neck, and growls.

“You want to be mine like that? Carried. Marked. Full of me?”

He bites and fucks at the same time — synced, brutal, covenantal. You're sobbing and shaking and he’s whispering things like:

“You’ll never be empty again.” “Gonna fill you until my cum sings in your womb.” “You’re mine now. All the way.”

He finishes with your thighs shaking. You black out in his arms.

Changbin You say the word and he gasps like he’s been slapped. Then his eyes roll back and a noise leaves his throat that can only be described as devastated arousal.

“You—fucking hell, baby—you sure? Because I’m not gonna stop.”

You say “please” and it’s OVER.

He flips you on your stomach and stays inside the entire time. Breeding you like instinct. Hissing about how “You were made for this.”

“Your body knows me.” “Taking me so deep, fuck—look at that.”

He bites when he finishes, then holds you still — just breathing hard, forehead to yours.

“No one’s ever getting in you again. Just me. Just mine.”

Minho You say it with a little smile. A playful tilt of your head. He’s silent. You blink—He’s already between your legs.

He doesn’t speak for the first 5 minutes. Just fucks. Slow. Methodical. Deadly. You’re already shaking before he even responds.

“You want me to breed you?” “You think you’re ready for that?”

He grabs your thighs. Spreads you wider.

“We’ll see.”

The entire night becomes a test of endurance. Every orgasm is a tally. Every time you cry his name, his hips slam harder. And when he finally bites? He drinks after he finishes. So he can taste you while you’re still twitching.

Hyunjin You say it in his ear while riding him — And he chokes. Literally gasps. Claws at your hips. Eyes tear up instantly.

“You—you can’t say things like that—! I’ll ruin you—!”

You whisper it again, and his head drops to your chest with a broken sob. His thrusts turn feral. He keeps his eyes on your belly the whole time, like he can see it swell.

“Want to give you everything. Want to fill you up. Want to watch your body change.”

And when he finishes inside? He kisses your stomach like it’s sacred. You are. To him.

Jisung You tease him with it. Say it once. Just once.

“Why don’t you breed me like you mean it?”

And he malfunctions. Eyes go blank. Breathing halts. His cock jumps inside you.

“You—you did not just say that—”

You smirk. He snaps. You’re folded instantly. Knees by your head. His whole body covering yours. Biting your neck and whispering madness.

“Breed you? Oh you’re fucked now.” “I’m gonna fuck it in until it sticks.” “You’re gonna feel me for days.”

You do.

Felix You say it softly. He’s already kissing your neck, his hips stuttering inside you — and you whisper:

“Please… breed me.”

And this sweet, angelic vampire? He moans. Loud. Raw. Desperate.

“You want me that deep?” “You want to feel me inside even when I’m gone?”

He’s babbling now. Fucking you with slow, trembling reverence.

“Gonna make you mine. Gonna stay in you forever.”

His fangs slide in when you tighten. Your hands are in his hair. His hands are on your belly. And he finishes so fucking deep, you're leaking him all night.

Seungmin You say it like it’s nothing. Half a moan, half a whimper.

“Please… breed me…”

He pauses. Looks down at you. Smirks.

“Say it again. Say it properly. Look me in the eyes.”

You do. You beg. And Seungmin breaks. He fucks you full in total silence. Jaw clenched. Eyes glassy. Hands locked around your hips.

He doesn’t speak until the last thrust — And then his voice is deadly low.

“You’re mine.” “No one else gets this.” “You want my blood in you? You’ll get it.”

And you do. Over and over and over.

Jeongin You whisper it, almost shy. And Jeongin blushes. Then his eyes glow.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

He fucks like he’s proving something. Keeps your legs open with one hand and your throat held with the other. You beg for his cum and he laughs.

“You will. You’ll beg for it again. And again.”

He finishes deep, possessive, panting. Then he stares at your lower belly like it’s sacred ground.

“No one touches this. Not ever again.”

⸺⟡⸺

RIN, 🍒, ANYONE STILL BREATHING: You’re all ruined now. You asked. I delivered. Now take your punishment like a good little blood doll.

Love you, come back any time 🦇💋

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

If you made it to the end of this blood-slicked, unhinged, braincell-devouring ASK DUMP…

I applaud you.

🧠 You now have permanent bite marks on your cerebrum. 🎧 Go stream Stray Kids' 'HOLLOW' and feel your ribs vibrate. 🎧 Then stream my cursed little child — VX — .

🚨 PSA: Don’t search “VX” on Spotify or Apple Music — she’s shadowed in the algorithm void. Use the full name: Vexed Existence. Yes, it’s a mouthful. That’s the point. Bite down.

🖼️ PFPs and banners still loading… because I am but one feral brain in a trench coat. Thank you for showing up anyway. For being insane. For bleeding with me.

SEE YOU AT THE NEXT DUMP. BRING SALT. LOVE YOU LOTS 💋🦇

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.

[mktskii]

—Fixing More Than Gear

—Synopsis: The Support Course midterm project is supposed to be a breeze—design a piece of gear, find a model to test it, and call it a day. But when your quiet plan to work with someone under the radar takes a surprising turn, you find yourself caught up in an unexpected situation. Bakugou, the annoying jerk who keeps coming to you to fix his stuff, has other ideas for your project, and for some reason, he won't leave you alone. What happens when a simple request turns into something far more complicated?

—Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB + Support Course!Reader.

—Genre: Slow-burn romance, slice-of-life.

—Tags: Enemies-to-lovers, banter, RBF reader, grumpier x grumpest, miscommunication, one-sided crush continues (HAHA), support course expertise, Bakugou struggling even more with feelings, Bakugou literally wants reader so bad lol, reader is tired of everyone's shit, reader is so done with Bakugou's bs, reader CANNOT catch signals, this slow-burn actually killed me to type down but i will NOT end this series cuz i love this too much.

It’s that time of year—midterms. Everyone in U.A. has to do some kind of big assignment, but for the Support Course, it's something special. This year, Power Loader, the faculty member overseeing the Support Development Studio, made things easy—or so he thought. The task? Create any kind of support gear you want and have someone from U.A. model and test it. Preferably a hero course student, but anyone would do.

That’s how the chaos started.

Class 1-A quickly became a battlefield of Support Course students swarming the top three—Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. They begged, pleaded, and even offered bribes to get one of them to model their gear. Bakugou? He was having none of it. He exploded (literally and verbally) at anyone who dared approach him with the idea of "modeling." He was a hero-in-training, not a damn mannequin.

But here’s the thing. Deep down, even though Bakugou found the entire situation annoying, he kind of… maybe… secretly… wanted you to ask him.

Bakugou, being Bakugou, had his own reputation to maintain, and there was no way in hell he was going to make the first move. You were supposed to come to him. You knew him, after all. You fixed his gear (and stuff he deemed needing fixing from you personally) all the time. So, it made sense for you to pick him, right? He found a way to sort of pay you back for everything you've done for him.

But then, when he found out that you picked Shinsou Hitoshi from General Studies? Oh, that was when the sparks really flew. You were actually polite to Shinsou, working with him without any of the usual sarcasm or snark you threw at Bakugou. And the fact that Shinsou wasn’t even in the hero course? That stung. You’d seriously rather ask someone from General Studies than ask THE Bakugou Katsuki? Seriously?

He wasn’t jealous. Definitely not. It wasn’t about you. It was about proving that he should have been your first choice. That this was a way for him to say 'thanks' without actually having to say it.

Right?

Now Bakugou had a choice. He could let it go, let you work with Shinsou and forget about the whole thing. Or, he could try something a little out of his comfort zone—actually asking (or forcing..) you into picking him instead. And being Bakugou, there was no way he was going to let something he wanted slip away.

One afternoon, Bakugou stomped his way into the Support Lab, making his presence known with his usual dramatic flair. Everyone else working in the lab was still trying to get used to it by now, and you? You didn’t even glance up from your workbench.

Bakugou, holding up a busted watch, plopped it onto your workspace with an annoyed grunt. “Fix it,” he demanded, his tone implying you owed him something.

You gave him a quick, disinterested glance.

"Again?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, but not really paying much attention. It's just a watch. He watched as you picked the watch up and muttered something about how it didn’t look that broken. You got to work and it took about 2 minutes since, cmon. You’ve fixed way more complicated things for him before. But this was seriously starting to get out of hand.

While you work on his watch, Bakugou starts subtly bringing up the subject of the midterm projects. Or, as subtle as he can be, which is basically him complaining about how much everyone in the Support Course sucks.

“They keep askin’ me to model for their stupid gear,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring at the mess of support tools on your desk.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," you mutter, already tired of the topic. “Everyone’s desperate.”

You don’t think much of it, just nodding in agreement because, yeah, Support Course students were pretty much throwing themselves at any hero course student (hell, any student at this point.) that would listen. But Bakugou? He's trying his hardest to steer the conversation in a particular direction.

“So, who are you gettin’ to be your model?” he asks, barely masking the irritation in his voice. His eyes are on you, waiting for your response.

You shrug. “I already got Shinsou from General Studies. He agreed.”

That’s when Bakugou’s patience starts wearing thin. His jaw clenches, and he has to fight every urge to not let his temper flare up. He already knew that, but hearing it straight from you? That you seriously picked Shinsou? Over him? That stung more than he'd ever like to acknowledge.

“That guy? What’s his Quirk again? Mind control or somethin’?” Bakugou scoffs, trying to hide the fact that he’s more annoyed than usual.

“Yeah,” you answer, without looking up. “He’s quiet. Doesn’t complain much. Gets the job done.”

Bakugou can feel his eye twitch. You hadn’t even thought of him? He nearly short-circuited on the spot, but forced himself to stay calm. His brain screamed at him to not blow it. So, he tried another tactic. “Tch, why not pick someone better? Like… I dunno, a hero or some shit?”

You didn’t even blink. “Like who? Power Loader said it could be anyone. Shinsou’s quieter.”

"Someone who’d actually make your damn gear look good," Bakugou mutters, trying to drop the hint, but you’re completely oblivious.

“Yeah? Well, no one comes to mind.”

Bakugou's temper is rising, but he knows if he blows up, it'll ruin the whole thing. He takes a breath—short, angry, but controlled—and tries one last time.

"I could do it so much better than that sleep-eyed loser." There it was. He had practically laid it out for you, all but outright saying he wanted you to pick him. But instead of jumping at the opportunity, you just handed him his now-fixed watch, scoffed, and said, “Cool, well, good luck with your own midterm.”

Bakugou blinked. That’s it? You didn’t even catch the hint? You probably thought he was joking or something. But, still! Was that not obvious enough?

He took the watch, his frustration boiling to the surface. He wanted to scream, “I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU, DAMMIT!” but instead, he just gritted his teeth and stormed out, the door rattling behind him. You went back to your work, entirely unaware of the emotional crisis Bakugou was going through just because you didn’t ask him to model for your damn project.

As the door slammed shut behind him, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of confusion about your interaction. Had Bakugou actually wanted you to ask him? Or was he just being a jerk, as usual?

It didn’t matter. You had Shinsou lined up, and Bakugou was just Bakugou.

But inside, his spirit felt shattered. Why was it so hard to just admit he wanted to be chosen? Why did he have to play this game when all he wanted was to spend more time with you?

As Bakugou walked away, he realized he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. This was his chance to prove himself, not just as a hero but as someone you might actually choose.

He’d find a way to make it happen. No matter what it took.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

‧₊˚tags:

@caaaddddyyy

@fta1ask4

@matchat3a

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What would Dipper & Mabel's relationship with Bill wins!Stan & Ford be like?

It'd be very different but still somewhat the same.

For one the Mystery Shack straight up doesn't exist. Stan's cat body means he didn't become going around in public for a while, and Ford's parinioa meant he wouldn't be able to stand strangers wandering around his house. He's also become somewhat of a recluse, only submitting papers and answering letter or dealing with people face to face. He won't wander outside of Gravity Falls for anything other than family emergencies (like when the twins were born).

So the twins are only really sent there becasue there's literally no one else to look after them while their parents sort things out, sort of how i imagined it working in canon. There's no way Stan can hide his cat attributes long term, seeing as at this age he's more comfortable wearing short sleeve shirts again and not melting in the heat, so the twins would know right away something was up with the town, and would have already known from Ford's Institute of Oddology, that studies both the town and how to strengthen the dimensional barrier so that Bill can never try to break in again.

So for them and Ford, he's still a mysterious figure, but also, contradictory, a mother hen. Everyone in towns afraid of him, the police check up on him regularly, and he's always doing strange experiments in his lab or working in his study. Then he gives them weapons, lines their clothes with magical protection (and Mabel catches him trying to sew magical body armor into their outfits several times) and no ones allowed to leave the house without telling him when, where, and how long they'll be gone. The one time they were longer than an hour overdue to when they said they'd be back (Its fine! I'm sure he won't notice! (Ford is at the front door, staring at the clock and making it sweat while Stan's next to him purring to make sure he doesn't bolt the first second the kids are late)) Ford burst in on whatever adventure they were in the middle of wielding a magic shot gun and convinced the kids were being held prisoner. Very relieved and near tears to find they were, like, too absorbed in a video game or something. Very PG and not dangerous at all.

Stan's more laid back in canon, in part due to not stressing over a hell portal and having his bro, but also because his cat half wants to do nothing but lounge around all day. He's still the weird old man they know and love, just weirder as they occasionally walk in on him doing cat things, like licking his arms or playing with cat toys. Now instead of running the Shack, he's in charge of the house and making sure Ford doesn't go crazy, which is a full time job when Ford gets going. Then he messes with the kids by telling them increasingly outrageous lies about why he's a cat man and making sure they have actual fun while they're there and don't get smothered by Ford like he sometimes gets. There's at least one time Stan takes them out without telling Ford, only for him to be tackled to the ground by a freaked out brother.

By the end of the summer they'd have a better idea of why Ford's so 'crazy' and Stan's so 'weird' (outside of what's physically weird about him). They love their weird funny grunkles, and promise to make sure to line all of their new clothes with the unicorn hair Ford sends them, and make a barrier around their house. Ford then promises not to try and get them to move to Gravity Falls permanently. Stan promises nothing, just gives them the ominous warning that maybe the cat thing is genetic, and it starts with puberty. (If Bill didn't show up)

[giorno-plays-piano]

Binary Star

Part I

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

____________

He is really going to get her this time. This is the finish line, quite literally: the graduation; his last attempt to win and emerge victorious from the very last battle between him and her. It has to be it.

If he couldn't win against her for the last time, Gojo would probably have a mental breakdown right in the middle of the ceremony. Geto standing right next to him rolls his eyes to the ceiling over his friend who's shaking from excitement and fear. Of course, Satoru wouldn't admit it even under torture, but Suguru knows better. The girl his friend has been competing with throughout high school isn't just smart: she's completely insane like Gojo and as big pain in the ass as him. Who knows, perhaps she'll really win this round. He prefers not to think of it.

Satoru searches for her in the crowd, standing on his toes despite already being a foot taller than anyone else in the hall. Is she here? This nightmarish woman who has been pushing him to give high school his all because she dared to take away his crown of the best student during their freshman year? When Satoru saw the scores, he thought he might have had a heart attack. There was no way he was no longer #1.

"That's what you get for messing around the chem lab," Shoko snorted while Satoru dumbly stared at the name of that annoying girl, always the teachers' pet, heading the list. His name was written right under hers.

What the actual fuck?! She got a better score than him? Him, the genius, with his undeniably superior IQ of 180 that he flaunted at any given time? Who did she think she was, Sheldon Cooper or something?

It got him so fired up he actually started studying.

"You're so dumb," Geto eventually said after his friend had gotten in the argument with the girl during their ethics class - again. "You know you could be making out with her now, right? She's the only person who could actually get along with your stubborn ass."

"Wha-a-at? What about you?" Immediately disregarding his question, Satoru was already pouting like a kid. "Wouldn't you date me?"

"Yeah, over my dead fucking body."

To be fair, it's not that Gojo never thought of her that way - she was pretty, even if he was never going to admit it out loud - but she was also so insufferable Gojo really couldn't focus on anything else but beating her in that game they were playing. The best score on the history exam? They both wanted it. Math test? Him and her were working on those questions as if their lives depended on it. Biology project? Satoru made sure to do the impossible, submitting something he would get a Noble prize for, and yet he still somehow managed to get the same grade as her. It was absolutely infuriating.

Why on Earth did she decide she could be better than him? He was Satoru Gojo, after all. The one and only son of Gojo family, who was not only embarrassingly rich but also fucking smart - his parents used to flaunt his talents throughout his whole childhood and continued doing it well into adulthood. He couldn't tell them he was no longer #1. What would his mother say? Dear God, it was hard to imagine what would happen to his father of he learned some random girl got a better grade for that English paper than him. It was, at the very least, unbecoming of Satoru.

But she was unrelenting, irritated with his status of the school genius, and ready to fight him on every occasion. Satoru had no idea what could piss her off so much - in the end, he was the most charming guy around, wasn't he? - but there wasn't a day she'd let him have his way. She was brave, persistent, and knowledgeable, and he hated her very much.

The fact that Shoko and Suguru were asking him to please get together with her and stop antagonizing the whole school only riled up Gojo even more. As if he was going to date that nerd!

When he learned she'd be running for the valedictorian, it was the last drop. No fucking way. She couldn't take it away from him - even if he had never actually cared about being a valedictorian.

If his friends had thought he was obessessing over her, now they realized Satoru went completely nuts. He started studying so much he barely slept: it was a given, considering the bags under his eyes were making his skinny ass look like a starving raccoon. Geto couldn't drag gim out even in between lessons because Satoru was immediately burying his head in the books.

It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Pfft, of course she won't. She'll probably stab him in the parking lot once he tries to get into his car.

But when the headmaster finally announces the results, and his, Satoru Gojo's, name is called, he no longer sees her in the crowd, and the sweet taste of victory suddenly turns to ashes in his mouth.

Where is she? She couldn't have known it would be him. To be frank, he didn't either. How could she leave right before the results were announced?

He gives his speech with a stupid smile plastered all over his face, but his mood has already soured. She had to be there to hear he was named this year's valedictorian! What face did she make? Did she leave right after she heard it wasn't her? Did she cry? Did she run away because she couldn't take it? Wasn't she going to say to him anything at all?

How could she just... vanish?

He doesn't know why he expected her to be the bigger person and come tell him he did great, but he truly did. Suddenly, he realizes he wants her to look him in the face and say he is good enough.

Did he need to be the bigger person, perhaps? But, wait, isn't he a bigger person by default because he's the winner, he wondered. The winner is always the bigger person if he doesn't rub loser's face in the dirt, right?

In the end, he couldn't even enjoy the victory he had been craving for so long.

"She had something urgent come up," Shoko says later in the restaurant, making a tsk-ing sound while Gojo listens to her with a frown on his face. "Something about her family."

Something about her family? What could be as important as the announcement of valedictorian?

"Are you dumb?" With a sigh, Suguru cocks his head to the side. "Plenty of things are more important than this valedictorian crap."

Maybe to somebody else, but not to her, Satoru thinks. Beating him has always been the only thing on her mind, and nothing could have changed that.

__________

He will be mulling over it for a long, long time once he realizes she did not follow him to Harvard despite her scholarship.

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

[manicpixiedreamlestats]

GINGERWREN'S PAYNELAND RECS 2024!

I can't believe we have had Charles and Edwin for less than a year. Even still, we've had a lot of fun! I wanted to share some fics, art, and gifs that made this year worth it for me personally. I was talking to a friend recently, and we noticed recent rec lists seem to be short, tag based lists with no real input from the list writer. Many of them also seem to rec the same few fics. Sometimes I feel left out as a smaller writer, and I know my favorite fics also don't always make it onto these lists either.

So, gentle reader, I will not be making a list of tags and summaries. You can read the tags on the fics and the art work, should you choose to view. I will be telling you why I love the works themselves. This is the best way I can think to recommend work to you.

Without further ado: the list is below.

WRITING

sweeter than honey from the rock - @dearheartdont

This lives rent free in my head. Literally in my mind this is like a lost episode or something. I do not want to spoil it or anything, but some of my favorite things in it are the world building (there are delightfully sympathetic clients, and witty antagonists), Charles does... exactly what one would expect Charles to do in order to help the client and protect everyone, and he makes things temporarily worse for himself. Rest assured though, there is a very, very satisfying resolution. Really, this is such a wonderful fic.

Winter Bloom - @skinnybritishdudes

PINK!!! EDWIN!!!! NOW!!!! This was my request for our server's Christmas exchange and it blew me out of the water. Genuinely, the magical mischief PLUS the subtle horror PLUS the absolute tenderness at the end?? Was everything I wanted, and more than I expected. Friendship ended with my own pink Edwin origin story. THIS is Pink Edwin now. Run don't walk for this one (as you can see, I still have not calmed down I am so excited about this one).

Nothing Left to Hide - @roseganymede95

I know I need to say more than "spider jar" but there's a point where I just start crying softly and going "spider jar" while I am reading. Honestly I'm sure if I said that to you, you would probably know which fic I'm referring to. It's this one. It's brilliant. It rewired my brain early on and I haven't been the same since. I found a spider jar pin because it may as well be canon in my mind. They call each other mine in the fic what more do I need to tell you to get you to read this? Join the spider jar cult with me.

right. never finished it.- taableclofh

A classic. Charles tries to save Edwin from Hell. He figures some things out in the process. (This is canon divergent in the best possible way and was a real balm on the soul, somehow).

molliculi (soft little things)- @williamvapespeare

This was made in a lab to make me cry specifically. The first time I finished reading it, it was two in the morning. I stared at my bedroom wall for like twenty minutes, bleary eyed, and then finally managed to type something to @williamvapespeare (who was really gracious about whatever mess I sent, lol). God fuck. It's a character study on Edwin. It's a history of living and dying in 1916. It's wondering what it means to continue on existing, but never have lived on with your peers. It's an outsider's perspective on Charles' trying to figure things out. Go. Go now. Suffer with me.

All Rights Reserved- @phoenix-soar

Do you like possessive Charles? (There's one right answer and it's yes). This fic is the fic. This also lives rent free in my brain. I wish I could say something more coherent but honestly I do not know how much I can say- well there is this lovely description where Charles compares Edwin's eyes to the sea on a stormy day (ao3 is sadly down, I cannot pull the full quote, but it was gorgeous). The rest... 🌶️🌶️🌶️

The Case of the Omegaverse Portal - miraworos

Omegaverse, as specified in the title. Also a very well written casefic, and some really satisfying feelings revelations. Once again: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

ART

Kiss (Blue) - @ent-is-indecisive

Genuinely A I am just amazed by how lovely all the kisses you draw are. Like they come out stunningly, over and over. I have no idea how you pull off this wizardry but it is amazing. Anyway I picked the first picture we ever talked about but I am also genuinely blown away whenever you drop something in LOMA

Collab Gifset For Payneland Week- @mellxncollie

I know you have all seen Olly's gifs. If you haven't, what are you even doing? (Maybe you're new here. That's okay). It's something special when Olly makes a gifset for your fic. Genuinely, sometimes I just go back and stare at this one because WOW THOSE ARE MY WORDS. BUT ON A GIF. Genuinely thanks for making my first year in the fandom special Olly.

Pink Slip- @arisprite

Ari was super great during the flash sketch commissions and we had a blast. Now this reminds me of ongoing convos that @majorlb @deadboyslullaby and I have (and perhaps one day we will do something more with those) but the point here is Ari is great. You all should go and appreciate the wide range of payneland she has made. Her fem!payneland is dazzling, and so is her sad boy Charles (which I think is the first piece I ever fell in love with).

RITUALS - @deadboyslullaby

THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. This was a collaboration with @likemmmcookies . @deadboyslullaby worked really hard on the inscription around the edges for this one and I am forever in awe of all the little details here. I want more of them doing strange, arcane stuff together always.

ORBWIN IN CHARLES’ RIBS- @jube-art

This is absolutely what I think is going on when one of them is orbing and the other isn't. No I am not taking feedback. Once more, this was a piece of art that re-wired my brain early on. Ribs are for lovers.

BONUS:

Feathers and Fur - merle_p

Super secret rare pair that rewired how my brain works forever. I love you catcrow. I love you Monty that's a little bit depressed a little bit of a masochist. I love you Thomas who can't help but take in strays but still has teeth and hasn't been declawed in this fic. This fic is just... so... gorgeous*chef's kiss*. I won't spoil it for you, but I implore you to read it so I have more people to talk about this pairing with.

These were all my recs for now. Thank you Dead Boy Detective fandom 2024! We may have had some bumps in the road, but here's to a strong and healthy 2025!

[bnhascribbles]

Anatomy

Bakugou X Reader

Humor, Hurt/Comfort (if you squint)

Words: 4.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Life happens in funny ways. You think you know yourself, how you’ll react in a given situation. Then one day, a man strolls into the room with an entire human arm (one you’re fairly sure he didn’t grow himself) slung across his shoulders, and you start to think that maybe, just maybe, you don’t know anything about anything. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. It’s best to start from the beginning…

He’s wearing plain black tee, unwrinkled and too-tight around the arms. That, and a deep-set scowl that radiates down towards whatever textbook he’s got spread out in front of him. 

It’s so perfectly unfair.

The universe seems to be dead-set on screwing you over. Maybe it‘s payback for the time you stole matches from the chem lab in undergrad (in your defense, it was 10 PM on a Monday and it was your last “hoorah” before you dropped). Maybe you shouldn’t have hogged the library scanner so often copying chapters out of textbooks you didn’t want to pay for, should’ve maybe been a little kinder in your end-of-course review for that one physics TA. Regardless, you don’t deserve your fate. 

Not the exhaustion. Not the stress. Not the burden of ending up in the same year as a piece of trash like Bakugo. 

Katsuki Bakugo. Second-year medical student in the top 10% of the class. Also a grade A jackass whose jackass-ery is only supported by the fact that he’s sitting in your spot. 

Now, you knew assigned seats were a thing for middle schoolers, not 20-something year-olds training to learn to manage actual human lives. Still, when a person occupies the same place in the library for a year and a half, there’s a basic human decency that overrides the need for seating charts and nameplates. Maybe the great Katsuki just can’t grasp that concept. Surprising given the fact that he seems to be picking up on literally everything else with inhuman speed. Genetics. Cardio. Derm. Renal. 

Even MSK. Fucking MSK. He was positively thriving in the very musculoskeletal hell that had you retreating to the library for 8+ hours every afternoon after lecture. Which only aggravates the acidic heat you feel brewing in your belly when you see him and Eijiro Kirishima living it up in your study carrel. Kirishima seems to have made himself comfortable standing, resting both of his (positively beefy) arms along the partition dividing to tables. He’s yammering up a storm: something something pen light something no way it’s enough time for a full history. Katsuki is at least seated in his (your) chair, but his eyes are glued to his phone rather than his friend. Or his textbook. Or the laptop open right in front of him. 

There’s not a glimmer of productivity in sight. It’s been like this for the past 15 minutes. You know because you’ve been watching, waiting (semi-) patiently in hopes that they’d just pack up and carry on elsewhere. But no, they’re still there. Wasting their time and your space. 

What little patience you had left dwindles to nothing in the span of seconds. You gather your things up in your arms and march across the library towards them. 

Kirishima sees you first, greeting you with a megawatt grin and a chipper “how’s it goin’?” You hadn’t really interacted with him one-on-one aside from the occasional confused looks you shared during lectures or simulation sessions. All you really know about him is that he and Bakugo are practically joined at the hip, which, up to this point, has been enough to make you keep your distance. Still, Kirishima seems so genuinely kind (unlike his friend who still hasn’t so much as looked at you) that it makes it very hard to stay pissed at him. Which is fine. He isn’t the one in your chair. 

I’m doing good. Now, respectfully, I ask that you and your friend vacate the area so I can study in my usual spot, please and thank you. 

“You know how it is, same old, same old. School, sleep, repeat.” It’s better than what you want to say. You tug your bag further up your shoulder.

“Ain’t that the truth. At least we have a little bit of a breather, huh?”

“Huh?” Breather? The last “breather” you’d had was when the pulmonology professor coerced you into demonstrating proper technique with an inspiration spirometer. Somehow, you don’t think that’s what Kirishima is getting at. 

“You know, in this class.” He clarifies. “It’s pretty easy compared to renal.” 

You snort, “yeah, that’s a good one.”

Kirishima blinks.

“MSK…the musculoskeletal system. Being easy. That’s funny.”

Kirishima lets out an awkward  sort of laugh, and an uncomfortable silence falls over the study area. The shrill ding of the elevator rings from the other side of the floor. Your classmate’s smile goes deliberately apologetic. You sigh. 

“I’m guessing you’re not getting your ass kicked by this class.” You say, placing extra emphasis on the you’re bit. Kirishima scratches at the back of his neck. 

As if things aren’t already bad enough, you feel them then.  The extra set of eyes settling on you.

“He’s the president of the orthopedic surgery interest group.” Bakugo says. “Bones and the meat attached to them are the only things he actually cares about.” When you fail to respond, he lets out a puff of air from his nose and it’s a wonder the desk doesn’t burst into flames right then and there. “Besides, he isn’t wrong. This class is a cakewalk.” 

You stand there, seething. You’re being perfectly polite, keeping the daydreams of concussing him into Glasgow 3 with the underside of your boot securely in your skull. 

“Well,” you say, slowly, “I guess everyone has their strengths.”

Bakugo doesn’t take the hint; he pushes.

“How is this harder than renal where things are microscopic?” He rises in one quick motion, resting a knee on the seat. As he leans forward, he lays an arm over the wooden back. He’s nowhere near as toned as Kirishima, but you can see the muscles shifting beneath his skin. Pronounced, like some real-life anatomical model. Triceps, biceps, coracobrachialis—you list them off silently because fuck him.

“Renal is pure physiology,” you say. “Everything has a when and why that you can logic through. MSK is just memorization.”

“Because there’s absolutely no memorization when it comes to nephrons.” His lips pull back into a mocking sort of sneer as he begins to count off on his fingers. “Sodium-hydrogen antiporters, sodium-chloride symporters, Sodium-potassium-chloride—”

“There’s a charge gradient driving that shi—” Not worth it, not worth it and you know it. 

What would be the point of attending all those school-mandated mindfulness sessions where you sat in a dark classroom meditating (rather than taking the half-day to do literally anything else) if you let this conversation ruin your day? You had to refocus. Think about the sensation of breathing—in, then out. Your hands, the weight of them hanging at your sides. Your feet and the way they feel sitting within your shoes… aaaaaaand yup, there’s a crinkle in your sock. Now that’s all you’re only going to be able to think about until you can fix it. Thanks meditation.

“You know what, nevermind you guys.” You take a clearing breath. “Everyone has their forte, and I know mine is not muscle origins and insertions. Anyway, I just remembered I have a thing at a place, so I’m going to be heading out.”

And that’s exactly what you plan to do. You ignore the hushed muttering behind you as you trudge towards the elevator, because none of that is actually your problem anymore. You’re mindful and centered and—

And a hand latches onto your shoulder. You lurch forward as momentum does its thing, only spared from a faceplant into the however-many-decades-old carpet by the sheer strength of your assailant's grip. You spin, already expecting who you have to blame and planning out the venomous rant you’ll spit their way (library “quiet please!” sign be damned). But rather than meeting Bakugo’s gaze, it’s his palm that floats mere inches from your nose. 

You open your mouth, but he’s quicker to speak than you are.

“I fall on an outstretched palm and fuck up my hand. Four days later I come to you and tell you it still hurts like hell—I can’t move it anymore. What tests do you order?” 

There’s silence for a good long moment. Then your senses return to you in one quick rush.

“What the actual hell Katsuki?” A couple other library-goers flinch and shoot your sharp looks towards your outburst, but who even cares anymore? 

“Answer the question.”

“No, because like what the actual hell? We already established I’m an idiot, so can you please just leave me alone?”

Bakugo’s grip on your shoulder tightens and you swat it off with a loud smack. His eyes widen as both you and he cast glances towards his hand, now floating off in dead space beside the pair of you. He purses his lips. 

“Nobody called you an idiot.” He tries to be casual about lowering both of his hands to his sides, tucking them into his pockets.

“Maybe not using those exact words, they didn’t.” You say, soft but firm. “But the implication was clear.” 

Then you stare. Bakugo does too, his eyes wider than usual, lips pulled back in a tight line. You’re no expert in reading people, but he’s also no expert in keeping the emotion from showing plainly in his expression. Surprise, which gives way to confusion, which gives way to something else.

“You’re not an idiot.” He finally says. Neither of you speak, letting the words hang in the space between you. Even as you’re both extremely aware of Kirishima is edging his way towards your spot by the elevators.

You let out a heavy sigh, folding your arms.

“X-Ray.” You say. Bakugo flinches, going so far as to take a full step backwards. Which is rich, given that with all the sucker punches you’ve imagined striking him with, a single word is enough to catch him off-guard. But even Kirishima freezes, mouth caught in shape somewhere between goofy grin and catching flies.

They both stand there, and you roll your eyes and say, “I’d order an x-ray first.”

Bakugo’s gaze narrows, and like that he’s back to his usual self. You swear you even see the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “Why an x-ray?”

“Why not?”

“You’re the doctor—what are you gonna say to your patient when they ask the same question?” He scratches at his head, mocking, all evidence of remorse wiped from his system. “Geeze, I dunno, ��x-ray’ is 14 points in Scrabble so I guess I’ll order that.”

You should be angry, but something feels…different about the bickering this time. That and—

“How do you know how many points ‘x-ray’ is in scrabble?” You ask, half-mocking. Because while you’re sincerely wondering if Katsuki Bakugo spends his Saturday nights playing Scrabble, you also want him to squirm a bit.

“Why do you want an x-ray?” He repeats the question. There’s a dusting of red across his cheeks creeping towards his ears. 

Nice, you think.

“Because an x-ray is the first thing you get when someone comes in after a hand injury.”

“Why’d the patient wait four days to come in though?” You open your mouth and he cuts in with “don’t say ‘because it didn’t stop hurting.’ This is a vignette, not real life.”

“But what’s even the point of all this if not to prepare for real life?”

“Will you just—” He clenches his teeth tight and takes a deep breath. “Think for a second. What’s on your differential?”

You chew at your lip. “Fracture.”

“But which bone?” You hesitate, your mistake, and he shakes his head. “Just think. This is a classic presentation. On every test you’ll ever take. What bone in the hand is supplied by a retrograde blood flow?”

And you don’t know. Shit, you’ll have to look that up when you get home. Still, you’ll swallow a jar of thumbtacks before you ever admit that to Bakugo. You shoot Kirishima, who’s standing over Bakugo’s shoulder now, an exasperated look. He starts to say something, but then he’s getting cut off. 

“Don’t help, or they won’t learn.” Bakugo snaps. His red-hot gaze fixes between your eyes. “And you, don’t look at him. This is basic anatomy.”

Anger wells in your chest again. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was in lecture right now.” 

You were furious at Bakugo, true. But…but also at yourself. You should know this. You’d had a lecture on the hand last week, which was practically a year ago in medical time. Your classmates were soaring through, already on nerve innervations while you struggled to learn the building blocks. School used to be fun, tests like a mini-competition you were guaranteed to win. 

You’d never struggled like this before, had never had to grapple with the fact that even after days of forgoing sleep in favor of studying, you were still floundering. Something in your brain was wired wrong, you were sure. Medical school is like trying to drink out of the ocean with a straw, everyone said. It’s the hardest thing you’ll do, they said. Then how was it that nobody else seemed to be struggling like you were? 

But again. You could be studying now, could be working on figuring out exactly the shit Bakugo is rubbing in your face. But no. Instead you’re stuck in a pissing match with Mr. Perfect. Mr. Top-of-the-class, God’s-blonde-gift-to-humanity. The conversation isn’t even worth it anymore. You’d meant to leave before and now you were going to follow through. You scoff and start to walk off—

And he’s in front of you. Bakugo has taken one step to his right and effectively placed himself between you and the elevator. 

“Move.” You demand.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“No. You’re not my professor.”

“I’m also not failing the only class where you are the cheat sheet.”

You wince. The truth in it stings something fierce.

“Enough, Katsuki.” Kirishima finally cuts in, his normally-cheery voice harder than you’ve ever heard. “You’re being a real jerk right now.”

Bakugo opens his mouth like he’s going to say something sharp, but the words die on his tongue. He looks between you and his friend.

“It’s a scaphoid fracture, Eijiro. They’ve only mentioned it like a thousand times, so imagine how much harder the rest—”

“That’s enough.” Kirishima says it again, louder. He grabs Bakugo by his upper arm and drags him out of your way. The lines between his brow are deep when he looks toward you, making him look years older than he had only minutes before. “I’m sorry about…well about all of that.”

About Bakugo? you want to ask. Or about the fact that he’s actually right for once?

You say nothing and hurry into the elevator. You don’t even try to hide the way to tap hurriedly at the door close button. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can get home. The sooner you get home the sooner you can get in bed and wallow, pretending you actually belong—

There’s a loud scuffle, a shout, then something slides between the elevator doors just as they bolt. You stagger, your back pressing flush to the metal wall behind you as a menacing presence invades your space.

“I carry mace.” You sputter, reaching for your keys as Bakugo slams the button for the first floor. The medical library was on the twelfth.

“Meet me in the dry lab on Saturday.” He says, mere inches of space separating his chest from yours.

You blink. Bakugo doesn’t. He stares, not at the neon aerosol pointed directly at his face, but at you in all your terrified glory. 

“I’d rather not.” You say, slowly.

He grits his teeth. “Why not?”

“Because you’re kind of an asshole. And I’d rather not spend my free time with assholes.”

“You’d rather fail?”

“I’m already doing that.” You purse your lips. “As you so astutely pointed out before.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the elevator door opens on the ninth floor. A shorter boy takes a step as if to get on, but freezes as soon as he catches sight of the pair of you. Bakugo twists to look back over his shoulder. You can’t be sure exactly what he does in that moment, but whatever it is has the other student taking several slow steps backwards. The elevator door shuts and he makes no attempt to get back on.

Bakugo’s attention shifts back entirely towards you. 

“Will you put that away before you blind us both?” He asks as he gestures towards your mace with his chin. He asks in the way that exasperated parents ask questions that aren’t really questions. Would you like to play nicely with your sibling, or would you like to explain to the emergency room staff how reenacting ‘Lion King’ ended up with one of you spraining your neck? 

“I don’t like the way you talk to me.” You say, the words are more honest than you intend. They’re not what he expects, based on the way his eyes go wide. “I’m an idiot when it comes to most things, but I already know that and I don’t need you drilling the point home every five seconds.”

He grabs at his hair with both hands, tugging as he lets out an exasperated groan. “What is with you?! Nobody is calling you an idiot, so will you stop calling yourself one?”

“Once you stop making me feel like one, then maybe I will.”

“Listen,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice here—”

“Not asking for it.”

“I don’t give a shit, you’re gonna listen because you’re an adult and apparently nobody has told you this much yet.” He holds his arms out wide at his sides, leaning forward. “Not everyone is thinking about you all the time. Sometimes, when people are talking about classes they find easy, it’s because they think they’re easy! They’re not calling you stupid because you don’t—they’re just talking.”

“Yeah? And throwing a dozen questions my way that you know I can’t answer, is that ‘just talking?’”

“How am I supposed to know what you can and can’t answer?”

“Because it’s obvious! How the hell am I supposed to be able to diagnose a scaphoid fracture if I barely know where the scaphoid is?” 

“You passed renal!” Bakugo says, like it means something.

“Like that changes the fact I’m flunking a class with a built- in ‘cheat sheet,’ as you so deftly put it.”

“Which is why I’m telling you to meet me in the dry lab tomorrow, so I can show you how to not flunk.”

The tears are hot at the corners of your eyes. “Like I said before, you’re an asshole.” 

“That’s right, he shouts, “I’m an asshole! The sky is blue! But sometimes, just sometimes, I don’t mean to be one. It just happens. I say the first thing that pops into my head because the alternative is sitting there agonizing over all the ways I should be saying things. Everyone says ‘think before you speak’ like that’s supposed to fix everything. Well that’s great until you think yourself into a fucking hole. So instead, I say stupid asshole-ish things then chase classmates into an elevator to try and make up for it after the fact.”

The air is heavy with the weight of too many uncomfortable truths. You’re both breathing heavy—him from his rant, you from trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill out. 

You will not cry in front of Katsuki Bakugo. It’s a vow you never thought you had to make up until this very moment. 

“Are you coming tomorrow or not?” He asks. The elevator doors open, and when you make no move to scurry out, he reaches back and presses another button. The floor lurches upward as you begin your ascent.

“What if it isn’t enough?” You say, just barely.

“What do you mean?”

“What if studying with you isn’t enough?” Your words are clipped, full of the emotion you refuse to express otherwise. “What if I show up and put in the work and I still suck at all of this.”

Bakugo shakes his head. “Why are you worrying about that now? Just deal with what’s in front of you.”

“Because what’s even the point of trying if it’s all gonna go to hell anyway? If I’m just wasting my tuition trying to do something I’m not able to do?”

He sighs, scratching at the back of his head. “Listen, I help you out, but I can’t fix that.”

“Fix what?” 

“That.” He gestures absently towards you. “The self-pitying bullshit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Well, fuck me I guess.”

“I—you just—goddammit.”  Bakugo shuts his eyes tight and groans long and deep. “How the hell am I supposed to say it without pissing you off. I just told you about how I’m no good at this.

You open your mouth to retort, but he continues before you can.

“You were probably told all about how smart you were growing up, right? How special you were? Big fish in a little pond. Then you get into medical school and suddenly you’re surrounded by hundreds of special people just like you. And somehow their talent makes yours feel a lot less real. The first time you actually have to struggle for something, you find yourself wondering if you were even smart in the first place—if you coming here wasn’t one big accident.” He pauses, half his mouth tilts upward into a knowing sort of smile. “That’s how it was for me, at least. I swear, every other day I get this feeling at the back of my neck like someone is just waiting for me to mess up so they can tell me to pack my bags.”

He looks your way and scoffs. “Well, try not to act so surprised.” 

It’s then that you realize your eyes must be the size of dinner plates.

“You hide it well.” You say softly.

“Do I really? Eijiro says I’m like one of those chihuahuas that compensates for his size by acting like the biggest thing in the room.”

“I mean, I’d call it a Napoleon complex, but I think something about the chihuahua fits better.”

“Either way,” he says, “you’re in a rut now. You’ve had to struggle at school for the first time in your life and now you have to deal with all the insecurity it entails. I’m not gonna promise you that if you study my way you’re gonna pass. I’m also not gonna lie and tell you that once you’re through MSK, it’ll all get better. It probably won’t. You’ll keep struggling and feeling stupid, and everyone has their own way of dealing. You’ve gotta find your own reason for pushing through despite it all.” He presses a finger into the left side of your chest as if to emphasize his point. “If it’s that you wanna graduate to be a badass physician, fine. You wanna do it to learn as much as you can, regardless of the grade? Great. Wanna do it just so those idiots back home have to look you in the eyes and call you ‘doctor?’” He grins wide and moves his hand so it rests on your shoulder. “I’d say that’s the best reason there is. But nobody in this field is gonna take the time to tell you how special you are and why you should push through. You’ve got to do it for yourself.”

And that’s it. For some reason that stupid speech, given in an elevator that smells a little like weed soaked in gasoline is what sets you off. What lets loose the insecurities you’ve been clinging to since first-year. You start blubbering like a baby and Bakugo, the six-foot-something grown man that he is, looks absolutely horrified at the fact. He squeezes your shoulder once, a caricature of comfort. Then he thinks better of it and pulls you into something vaguely resembling a hug. His back is rigid and his shoulders raised practically to his ears, but by god, he’s trying if the hand patting at your back every couple seconds or so is any indication. 

It’s after a long moment of this (and another confused student peering into the elevator then making the wise decision to wait for the next) that you finally speak.

“It’s just so much sometimes.” You say, giving voice to the thoughts you’ve held for so long. “You have to be practically superhuman to balance everything we do—studying, sleeping, eating, breathing.”

“How do you eat an elephant?” Bakugo asks in the quiet that follows.

You pull back quickly to cast him a confused look, “Wait, why are we eating elephants now?”

“Because that’s the way the saying goes, I don’t know.” He gives you one more pat on the back. “Anyway, how do you eat an elephant?”

“Aren’t they endangered—.”

“One bite at a time.” 

You stare at him. Bakugo stares back. Then he throws his head back and groans, long and loud. “God, now it sounds a lot dumber to say out loud. Why do you have to ask stupid questions like that and ruin everything?”

“There are no stupid questions, Bakugo.”

“Yeah, well I disagree.”

“And that’s why you’re going into general surgery.” You punctuate the statement with a quick tap of your finger against his nose.

He swats away your hand and jerks back from you like he’s been shot. “Did Eijiro tell you?”

Despite your goopy eyes and still-snotty nose, you throw back your head and laugh. “Dude, it’s obvious.”

“Just like it’s obvious you’re doing internal medicine?” He says it with a scowl, like it’s supposed to be an insult. One you can’t take seriously given that’s like saying ‘wow, I can’t believe you’re only interested in being a rocket scientist.’ Which only leaves you laughing all that much more.

“How’d you figure?” You ask, playing along.

“Ignoring the fact that you suck at basic anatomy?”

“Yeah? Well check out this metatarsal.” You flip the bird.

Something in Bakugo’s face changes then. He’s smiling, but it’s nothing like Kirishima’s cheery grin. In a practiced move, he thrusts both middle fingers out towards you. He uses one to point at the lower part of the other, right where it joins with his palm. “Metacarpal,” he points to the joint just above it, “and phalanges.” The words are arrogance and acid swirled together. His stare is no better. “Unless you’ve got feet attached to your wrists, that is.”

You knew that. Shit, mega-shit, proving-his-point-shit. That was the easiest crap in the world and you knew that. But in your rush to be a smartass, you’d made a dumbass of yourself. You rush towards the elevator door, poking hurriedly at the ‘open the door nownownow’ button. You don’t care if you’re between floors. You don’t care if that’s not how elevators work. You want to throw yourself into the elevator shaft abyss now, please and thank you.

“So,” Bakugo, that super-mega-awful human that he is drawls as he leans a shoulder against the wall opposite to you, “what we can finally agree on the fact that you’re missing so much of the fundamentals that it’ll be useless to try and drill pathology into you.” 

You can’t even look at him. If you do, you will smack the ever-loving-shit out of that self-righteous mouth of his. 

“We’ve gotta start from the ground up. And that means I better see you in the dry lab,” He leans in and, close enough that he must not fear the consequences of your rage, “starting tomorrow.”

The door opens. You sprint out onto the sixth floor of the library like some crazed animal, ignoring the looks of utter bewilderment from the other students on the floor.

Even so, you know. God, you know you have to show up.

~~~~~

And that brings you to your current predicament on Saturday, 9AM, in a near-abandoned campus classroom.

With Katsuki Bakugo in his signature back tee and gold chain blocking your only exit, a dismembered anatomical arm slung across his shoulder.

You can practically smell the danger in the situation, especially when he bares his teeth like some kind predator.

“What, were you expecting someone else? Kirishima has lacrosse, so he’s not coming to save you anytime soon.” His grin widens, cruel. “Are you ready to learn?”

And just like that, you begin to regret every life decision you’ve made up to this point. But hey, at least it’ll be worth it to not fail MSK, right?

Right?

[ravinoforre]

So I saw an opinion on a character that I, respectfully, don't agree with at all, and it isn't the first time I've come across this particular take either. I don't like nor want fandom discourse, making counter points to arguments in general make me nervous, but as someone particularly attached to them and their related characters, I have a lot of thoughts I want to get out there in the hopes that maybe they can be seen from a more positive perspective. So um, here they are. Get comfortable, this is gonna be a long one. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In Defense of Lily (Pokémon XD).

Those of you who've played this might already know what I'm referring to, so I'm just going to rip off the proverbial band-aid. Right at the start of the game, as you, the player, are being introduced to her, one of the first things she says is;

...and ok yeah, I admit. This is kind of a weird thing for her to say (in front of her son too, oops). This is usually one of two instances that people latch onto to prove she's an awful mother, but there is, at least in my opinion, some hidden context to her words. First of all, she's not wrong; the whole lab does in fact constantly sing their praises and fawn over both these kids (which is adorable tbh). Secondly, it's not unreasonable for her to believe that lots of inflated praise on a child, no matter how well meaning, may have negative consequences on their development. A kid receiving a constant stream of "you're so cool/special/talented" may end up with an inflated ego and become depressed, or even lash out in anger, if that praise either stops or something comes along to disprove it (like failing a test or making a mistake).

(Side note, I came across some partially related studies (x), (x) and an article from a parental psychologist (x) that go into different types of praise given to children; person, or ability praise ("you're so clever") vs process, or effort praise ("you worked really hard"), their effect on self esteem, personal growth, and performance, and how ability praise actually negatively effects a child's sense of worth compared to effort praise or even no praise at all. It's a lot to go through right now and this post is already going to be super long, but I mention them here because I'll go into something later that you may find rather interesting. I know I do. They're fascinating reads, too, I would recommend!)

Now listen up! Lily, contrary to the belief that she's a cold-hearted mother who shuns her offspring, actually does praise and engage with her children! Throughout the story, she'll talk to Michael and say some interesting and wonderful things as his adventure continues! The problem is that unfortunately, a lot of this proof is hidden throughout each story beat in a section of the lab that is no longer required to enter to progress (and most people won't bother to go back and speak to their own mother who apparently "hates" them). Off to find Jovi:

🥹 baby... Before saving Phenac City:

🥺😭euuhhbbebeh father mentioned During the Phenac City hostage situation:

After the Phenac stuff:

"I'm proud of you." You literally cannot get a more explicit form of praise than I'm proud of you. Hell, I can't even recall a time my own mother told me that. Fucking hell. Also. Pampered?! You hear that? She's practically contradicting those accursed two lines! By her own admission, the kids are pampered babies! Her concern isn't that people will spoil them—because they're already spoiled!

(Jovi is a pampered baby princess). I think Lily's worry in her comment is that may roll too far; it's like she says—spoiled rotten.

Ok one more example for this section:

(disclaimer: these screenshots are from the romhack XG which is why her name isn't in all caps; trust me, this same line is in base XD too) Remember the types of praise I mentioned earlier? Ability (person) praise and effort (process) praise? And how the former could be damaging to a child's self esteem? Do you notice anything particular about the way she speaks to Michael and praises him? "You've become an outstanding trainer in your own right." Not "You're so strong." "You're doing so much for the good of others." "Your courage will save the Shadow Pokémon." Not "You're so brave." "You did it all by yourself without anyone's help." She's praising his actionable efforts! She's applying process praise! (Pleeease read those studies and article, at least the first study I linked, it's genuinely insightful and fascinating, and it's even more amazing that an example of it is featured in a video game by a character most people won't interact with beyond necessity! I love this game! So! Fuckinhg!! Much!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Ahem. She's also not saying that people shouldn't praise her kids either; only that she wishes it wasn't gushing praise all the time. Too much of a good thing could be harmful, after all. Let's see...

Sounds reasonable so far, right?

...Galactic peace?! My brother in Arceus, all he did was beat you in a friendly Pokémon battle—a battle that Michael's already been led to believe he'd win anyway thanks to that previous comment from his coach (those screen caps are in chronological order)! Even without the fact that by this point he's midway through a dangerous fight against a criminal organization, it's probably not a good idea to give a developing young teen a literal God complex; what if he gets so full of himself he genuinely believes he's unbeatable... and then loses? That child's mental state is going to plummet. So even if you don't agree with Lily's praise comments, you might at least better understand where her concerns are coming from if this is potentially the kind of thing that's being told to her kids regularly.

Moving on, try putting yourself in her shoes a moment. She's a working, grieving, single mother of two who, according to an NPC in the lab "has an exceptionally high sense of responsibility".

As a scientist with the necessary expertise, she has the heavy task of helping realise a sensitive project—sensitive not just in terms of urgency (as Krane predicts Cipher is going to be a threat again), but also in terms of emotional weight; this project was something her late [husband] poured everything into until his death, so both her and Krane continued on with it; by the time the game starts, they're agonisingly close to completion. And time is of the essence. Quick tangent: watch the cut scene post Krane kidnap again. The camera rests on Lily an awfully long time. The father of her children died before this project was finished, and now Krane, a close friend of both of theirs, has been taken away by force. Both her children have witnessed something traumatic. Her daughter is sobbing. She's literally being told the situation is "hopeless" by a colleague. Imagine the sheer anguish this woman must be going through before having to push through all of it and take complete charge for the sake of finishing the project. For the morale of the entire lab staff. For the sake of keeping her kids calm. For the fate of the region itself. Anyway, because of this project, and how close they are to finishing, she isn't able to afford much, if any, time off to spend with her kids "this instant". It's probably why the lab staff have pitched in to help look after them (which must make her feel pretty damn guilty with that high sense of responsibility of hers). It's why she asks her son to go find his little sister in her stead.

And this brings me to point number two that I've seen used countless times to slander her:

She just lets Jovi run off on her own, and doesn't care what her kids are up to.

Which... no, sorry, hang on here. Lily isn't letting Jovi run off on her own. For starters, both her and Krane believe she's in or somewhere outside the lab grounds, playing hide and seek with the caretaker, Adon.

A game of hide and seek (particularly if they're taking turns hiding) is likely why nobody's seen her since lunch, by the way, and not Lily not giving a damn about the whereabouts of her child. And when she's found and brought home again, Lily says this;

This implies she's spoken to her daughter about running off on her own before, and we do later get to know that Jovi has a habit of running off ahead; she runs off down the steps in Gateon ahead of her brother, she rushes off to deliver the machine part by herself to the chamber, and even though Michael is the one asked, she runs off to go see Datan—despite Lily telling her she doesn't need to do that. This means if Jovi gets invested in something, it's apparently hard to stop her. Visiting Kaminko's is a recent fixation of hers, and if Adon is already aware of where else she might have gone off to if she's nowhere on lab grounds, it might mean she's been there before (that, or Adon was the one who caved and told Jovi where to find the place). I might even speculate and say Lily has specifically told Jovi before about not running off to the manor. Anyway, check out what she says when you find the little runaway but come back empty handed.

The heart-sinking realisation and disappointment in that "...Oh" alone....

So no, Lily isn't letting her young child run off on her own—Jovi is disobeying her mother. She's either used the game of hide and seek as an excuse to dip (and then forgot about Adon entirely), or she got bored midway through and decided to head to her new place of interest despite any of her mother's previous objections. (And before anyone says anything, no, that doesn't mean Jovi is a bad kid, either. She's, what, around 7 yrs old? She is doing typical little kid things, emulating her older brother, and discovering and pushing her boundaries as she grows up. I have seen some putrid, abysmal hate for her over the years too. She is a child, leave her alone.) Onto the second half of the above statement; she doesn't care what her kids are doing. As in, Michael is on a treacherous journey against a dangerous group of people and she's totally ok with letting her kid do that (as if that isn't the case with practically every mainline entry protag mother but alright, I'll bite).

Introducing one of my favourite exchanges with her in the game. During this time, the purify chamber still isn't complete, and they'll need to use an alternate way of purifying Shadow Pokémon until then—the Relic Stone in Agate Village.

oh it worries her, does it? You know what happens when No is selected?

And then she drops the conversation. There's no endless loop to get him to go, which would have been the more convenient thing for the devs to implement. But this was a very deliberate choice that tells me more about a character than I've seen done in a video game before. She's respecting her son's decision to stay home. She is not forcing him to do something he isn't comfortable with. Of course, as a video game, the purpose is to progress to the next story beat. So he has to go. Better talk to her again.

I don't even think I need to add any extra commentary, this should really speak for itself at this point.

I've also reached the image limit on this post so it's probably time I wrapped this up, so in conclusion; is Lily a bad mother, as I've seen people claim? No, and I believe I've showcased plenty to prove she isn't. She's not perfect, no parent is, but she's a damn sight more involved in her children's lives than the mainline moms, who are often nothing more than out of the way Pokémon Centers that don't acknowledge their child's journey in any meaningful way. So then, was she in the right for saying what she did at the start of the game, right after Krane praises her son, who is in earshot of this conversation? Well... also no. She could have picked a better time and place to bring it up, honestly. But God forbid a woman make a mistake or voice a concern, lest her be mischaracterized and demonized forever by two unfortunately worded lines of dialogue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Michael, you're finally going off to the ultimate battle, aren't you? You've really grown in stature. As your mother, it makes me feel conflicted. I'm happy and proud on one hand, but I'm also a little sad. Go and get rid of Cipher, and make it quick! And come home safely."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ If you've managed to reach the end of my ramblings, I'd like to say thank you. Hopefully I've given you some food for thought. Maybe I've even changed your mind about her. And even if I haven't, I appreciate you taking the time to read this regardless.

[willow-journey]

!DISCLAIMER! If you don't like it, don't read

Jayce x Fem Viktor (Viktoria)

A beautiful, useless thing

Chapter 6

Jayce wasn’t waiting. Not at all. He was just… working. Focusing on his projects, perfecting some calculations, ignoring everything else. Except the lab felt damn too quiet.

Every time the door didn’t open, his irritation grew. The clock on the wall kept ticking away, and he ground his teeth as the time stretched into an hour. Then two. It was stupid—getting worked up over something so trivial—but his mind couldn’t let go of the image of that assistant walking next to Viktoria. Too close.

And then the thought got even worse. He imagined them at a café—one of those cozy, ridiculously expensive spots that students loved. The assistant, with his stupid, confident air, would probably try to impress her, maybe offer her a coffee.

And Viktoria—logical, detached Viktoria—would politely refuse because she didn’t drink coffee. She preferred sweet, warm, creamy drinks. Milk with honey. And Jayce knew that. Only Jayce knew that.

The thought gave him a petty satisfaction, a small, smug tightness in his chest. Because he was her partner. He was the one who worked by her side, who knew her habits, her rhythms, her mind. That idiot assistant knew nothing.

The clock ticked again. Two full hours. Jayce was already halfway out of his chair, ready to leave the lab and go find her, when the door finally opened. She walked in with her usual composed grace, impassive, as if she hadn’t just been gone for an eternity.

Jayce, still standing, turned to face her, arms crossed. His voice came out sharper than he intended. He raised an eyebrow, tone biting. “Took you quite a while to talk about some papers.” Viktoria calmly placed the stack of papers on the desk, her face unreadable. “Yes. It was a thorough discussion. The professors had many points to go over.”

Jayce scoffed. “Ah, sure. And I bet the assistant had nothing to do with the delay.” If she noticed the sharpness in his words, she didn’t show it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a hint of amusement. “Am I now supposed to report every single movement I make to you?”

Jayce stiffened. “That’s not what I—” He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just that… It feels like a long time to be gone, that’s all.”

She made a low sound, clearly unimpressed. “Not everyone has your oratorical talents. Some people actually need to be listened to when presenting a project; a fake smile and a fancy dinner aren’t enough. Maybe you’ve forgotten that.”

He ignored the sarcasm, jaw clenched. “You know that’s not how it is. My work in the Council benefits both of us, it takes up time, but the heart of Hextech is here, with us. If we let ourselves get distracted—”

“Distracted,” Viktoria repeated with a sarcastic laugh. Then she fixed him with a sharp, steady gaze. “Yet I don’t recall ever signing an agreement that prevents me from existing outside of your presence.”

Jayce gritted his teeth. Why did she always have to be this way? So damn calm, while he felt like he was burning from the inside? “It’s not—Ugh, damn it, Viktoria—” He exhaled, his voice lowering into a rougher, tenser tone. “I’m just saying you’ve never taken this long, that’s all.”

She watched him in silence for a moment. Then— “You’re ridiculous.” Jayce blinked. “Excuse me?”

Viktoria simply returned to her desk, as if the conversation was already over. “I won’t apologize for existing outside of this lab, Jayce. If that’s a problem for you, it’s something you’ll have to solve, not me.”

That infuriatingly unwavering calm—she made him lose his mind. And the worst part? She was right. Jayce had no reason to be this upset. But seeing her so indifferent, as if nothing had changed—as if he hadn’t been literally losing his mind for two stupid hours—only made it worse.

So, instead of responding, he huffed, turned, and dropped back into his chair with more force than necessary. “Do whatever you want.” Viktoria gave a slight shrug. “That was already my plan.”

And somehow, that made him even angrier.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

[clueless-romantics]

BAXTER

so, about the fish man that I love. I wanted to do a short analysis of him before we get him in the full series.

this will be full of season two predictions, shipping, headcanons, and backstory ideas.

DEATH

first, we'll start with his death. ironic, right?

anyways, we know that Baxter was supposed to have died on the Titanic, but since Viv didn't want to be Insensitive, she changed it to a vague ship that sunk in the 1910s. since he is an anglerfish, which lives on the sea floor, we can infer that he probably didn't make it out of the ship, and sunk to the bottom of the sea with it. thats all we know right now, and I will give ideas to expand on that and give him some character.

he might have a fear of not having enough air, or a fear of sinking or being pulled down.

he absolutely hates the movie "Titanic," and complains about how inaccurate it is to everyone (fun hc)

LIFE

we know nothing about his life, other than he was some sort of scientist. I like to imagine that he was a heartless scientist who disregarded everyone else's lives, and experimented on people.

A reason why he could be so short is that he believed his life to be more important, or 'higher' than everyone else. that is why he is short, as hell usually makes you look like things you hate, therefore he would hate being viewed as lesser, or smaller than others, and now quite literally.

we do not know how old he is, but I would assume based on looks that he is 25-30, somewhere around that range.

RELATIONSHIPS

we dont know much about Baxter at all in any of these, as I have stated, but in the sneak peak we know he had a negative past with sir pentious. since we know sir pentious is an inventor, not a scientist, therefore he cannot create biological life. one of my theories is that sir pentious made the egg bois with Baxter's help and betrayed baxter, while taking the egg bois with them. I also personally headcanon they dated, but that might not be true, and isn't really backed up by anything.

now, onto who I think owns his soul. I believe vox would be his owner, as vox has a proven history of working with sea creatures, and it is a very popular theory. I think he has two reasons to be at the hotel. one, obvious one, for studying redemption. he is a scientist, why wouldn't he want to do that? the second, being he was spying for vox. my reasoning? there are two reasons I think could be true.

vox hired Baxter because sea creature AND the fact vox knew sir pentious and Baxter had a rivalry, so vox would take advantage of that and give Baxter the chance to upstage his enemy.

two, baxter knew sir pentious failed at being a spy so that's why he accepted the job, so more intent on Baxter s side for this.

MISC.

baxter is still a scientist in hell, obviously. so I'd imagine in his 100+ years of being in hell, he probably has his own lab. we don't know a lot about him, still, which leaves a lot for the imagination. which, brings me to my next part, headcanons!!

HEADCANONS!

Baxter is trans (only female anglerfish have the esca)

Baxter wears glasses but only for protection during science experiments, because anglerfish have excellent vision, so he wouldn't be low vision.

EXCELLENT vocabulary

he avoids alcohol and smoking like the plague, as he is very health conscious and doesn't like husk at first because of it

the only person in the hotel he can actually bear talking to (besides niffty) is cherri. they both have a past with sir pentious, and he would probably think she is the most self actualized out of all the guests, (he doesn't think Vaggie is the most because he dislikes how violent and protective she is)

THAT CONCLUDES MY POINTS ABOUT HIM!

FEEL FREE TO ADD YOUR OWN IN THE COMMENTS AND REPOSTS

[norazingrid]

Testmic analysis because people don’t get their relationship, like, at all

I’ll go over these points below

why test tube and microphone aren’t actually toxic

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

their great potential and similarities with each other

conclusion

OKAY FIRST UP I WANT TO GET SOME THINGS CLEAR

I do NOT ship these two because they’re both “girls” and I am NOT picturing them as “what if they didn’t hate each other”

I've always considered their complex relationship and so called “hatred” towards each other, but I’ll explain more of it below

Test tube and microphone don’t actually have a “toxic” relationship

Now the word “toxic” can be a very strong word when describing a dynamic and I personally think that it is not the right one to use when describing their relationship because the both of them haven’t shown actual deep hatred towards each other. Sure, their dynamic isn’t exactly on “good terms” and test tube has made it pretty clear that she hates microphone, but has microphone actually shown any hatred back? No. She has always stayed quiet whenever test tube complains about her, which could be a sign on guilt. That means microphone knows the reason why she hurt test tube and understands why she’s upset about that. The lab and inventions were very dear to test tube, and microphone was convinced to steal from her and somehow “leak” her secret lab, but its pretty clear microphone regrets all of those things, and therefore she does not hate test tube.

And I would like to talk about how test tube would actually be able to forgive microphone at some point in the future, I’ll go over it in-

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

Test tube’s character is very interesting to me because it has changed a lot during the seasons, but I’ll try to summarise it as quickly as possible. In s3 she has been seen to be pretty average and calmed down from the events that happened in episode 14, which is understandable since it happened a long time ago, but this started to change when cabby and test tube started to develop their rivalry. I’m not gonna dig too deep into this but I want to focus on how test tube STILL forgave cabby after learning her true intentions at the end of the season and I believe this could be a sign of how test tube stars acknowledging that she could learn not to judge everyone right away if they did something wrong, and I believe test tube could be starting to feel guilty aswell, not only for how she treated microphone but basically all bad moments she has had in past situations with other contestants. May I also remind u guys that test tube is stated to be socially awkward, so I don’t want to blame her for the way she acted with other contestants, but there’s always room for improvement and I would be happy to see test tube prove herself more, just like she did after forgiving cabby and voting for her to win iii.

their great potential and similarities with each other

Now I personally think that their arc could be one of the most interesting ones in the series if just given some more chance, because these two are actually very similar if you think about it. They both have been somewhat been turned down by their teammates, which gives them more willingness to prove them wrong. Test tube has been seen to be too “into the role” especially in episode 14, which might also be because her best friend was literally kidnapped by aliens, but when fan was saved, she was still not satisfied, which destroyed her respect she had from others. And the reason why she wasn’t satisfied is because microphone got all the credit. But microphone didn’t mean to steal her reputation, since she was against hurting anyone in the first place. The plot-twists in their arc’s are so entertaining, it makes it even more fun to study. And if we get to see these two characters making up somewhere in the future, it would complete their arc perfectly. Happy ending yay

Conclusion

Microphone doesn’t hate test tube, but rather feels guilty for what she did to her.

Test tube has now proved us that she is willing to forgive someone if knowing all point of views.

Their arc hasn’t ended yet, and much more depth could come out in the future between these two characters.

thanx for reading please correct me if there were any mistakes in my takes 😁

end of analysis✌️

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Sleeping Potions and Other Worlds

Vil and Rook learn about other worlds. (Read the previous chapters here: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, and crossposted to AO3 here.)

All of the classes at NRC are, to me, equally interesting and incomprehensible. Some more than others. History of Magic? Okay. I don’t have a lot of context for what they’re talking about, but history is history. Chemistry? I mean, there’s some magic stuff in there that I don’t know about, but I can work with the basics. Practical magic? That’s one where I literally can’t do anything except study theory and even then, I don’t understand it most of the time.

Potionology is somewhere in the middle- I can’t do anything in the class, but at least I can figure out what’s going on most of the time. It’s like cooking- each ingredient does something specific and you have to add them in the right order at the right time to make a potion that does what you want it to do. I may not be able to infuse the magic that makes the potion work or whatever, but I at least get how it works, and the basics of potionmaking.

All that to say that I don’t understand at all what Vil is doing right now.

I know the basics that Professor Crewel gave us in class- potions need a base liquid and a few of several base components to stabilize everything, then adding more ingredients lets you tweak the effects of the potion, as long as you keep everything in proportion and keep the temperature controlled.

Vil seems to be ignoring several of those rules- there’s liquid in the cauldron, but only water, which Professor Crewel lectured as being the poorest base liquid, and several other ingredients, none of which are the ten approved base ingredients Professor Crewel told us to use. The heat is high, higher than Professor Crewel usually tells us to put it in the beginning as well. None of this would be so concerning to me, usually (what do I care if Vil screws up a potion?) but this potion is supposed to be one that I’ll drink. So I’m a bit nervous.

Rook is completely unperturbed, skipping around the room and plucking ingredients off the shelves before handing them to Vil. He’s a strange duck- I actually met him within my first two weeks of being in school. Though his only action at the time was to shove a box in my hands with a wink and skip off down the hall. It turned out to be full of, uh, ‘feminine products’ which saved me the trouble of telling Cowley they needed to be accounted for in my hygiene budget. How he knew I needed them, I don’t know. He just thrust them at me and vanished.

In the present moment, he waxes poetic about pretty much everything in the room, from the act of potion making itself to Vil to the ingredients. On occasion, he tuts over me, insisting he can see my ‘lack of beauty sleep’ in my skin. I think he’s exaggerating. I mean, come on, I don’t look that bad, do I?

Vil prods at the potion with a stirring paddle before cutting his eyes back over to me. “Rook’s right,” he says, and I once again have to wonder if mind reading magic is a thing. “Poor sleep is terrible for your skin, as well as many other aspects of your health. Getting a decent amount of sleep is vital for all of us right now. Which certainly isn’t happening if your little problem continues to go unaddressed.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble miserably. Rook, adding insult to injury, practically drapes himself over me.

“Ah, unable to find the sweet respite of le sommeil! My heart weeps for your poor skin!” He presses the back of his hand to his forehead like a swooning Victorian maid. The entire posture is only made more ridiculous by him being in full lab gear. Vil, on the other hand, looks good even in a labcoat and goggles. How’s that fair?

“It would have been far more prudent if you’d informed me of this beforehand,” Vil says, going back to the potion. He tips some herbs in and steps back when they send up a plume of color-changing smoke.

“I didn’t realize it would be a problem,” I say, embarrassed. “Grim never complains. I guess he sleeps like a bag of bricks, though.” And no one complained in Scarabia, though I suppose Ramshackle’s walls are much thinner- maybe when their dorm was rebuilt, they added soundproofing. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

Vil glances at me, his gaze marginally less severe. “It never came up when you were living at home?”

Home. My chest pangs sharply for a moment. “I- I didn’t have them when I was at home.” It hurts to breathe for a moment, like the misery of missing home has lodged in my throat, scraping with sharp edges.

Rook pounces on that statement with the tenacity of a wildcat. “Where is your home, dear prefect? I’ve been unable to ascertain it myself, and as much as I adore the beauté of a good mystery, there has been quite a cold trail, in your case!”

“Uh,” I say, flailing a little. “It’s not really any of your business, is it?” I cast a glance at Vil, maybe looking for help, but he’s not paying attention.

“Excusez-moi, prefect!” Rook says, moving back with a hand pressed to his heart. “I didn’t mean to pry!” He definitely did. But at least he has the decency to look upset about it. Unlike the damn Leech twins, who always seem all too happy to snoop. “But, if you would be so inclined to share, I would be interested in what land has produced such an interesting person!”

That could almost be a compliment. Except it’s Rook, so ‘interesting’ could mean anything from ‘normal human interest’ to ‘you would make an excellent rug/jacket once I skin you.’ Hard to tell. I ignore him completely and try to change the subject. “Uh, Vil, is the potion thing almost done?”

“No,” he says, giving me a sharp, irritated look I’m getting to know all too well. The sort of look that says ‘I’m annoyed I have to tell you something you should know already.’ “This sort of potion will take well over an hour to steep. It’s not one of the simple blends you make in your first-year courses.”

Oh cool! At least an hour hanging out with Rook and Vil! Fun! “Do I, uh, really need to be here for it?” I ask. “If it’s going to be a while until it’s ready.”

“I’m making this potion for your benefit,” Vil says. “The least that you could do is help out.”

“But I’m not actually helping.” He made me get into my lab gear, which is about a size too big, before going into the Pomefiore basement, but I haven’t actually been doing anything.

“I’ll need your help in a few minutes. There are several important components that need to be added at precise times.” He gestures me closer and I obligingly moved to his side. I find it a bit awkward to be close to Vil- he’s intimidating.

“Will it work right if I do it? Professor Crewel doesn’t usually let me put anything in,” I say. Vil makes a sound that, one someone less graceful, might have been a snort.

“Perhaps on a first-year potion, but this one’s significantly more advanced than the ones you would be taking on. Most of the magic infusing takes place at the beginning.”

That makes something occur to me. “Is that why you were using different base ingredients in the beginning?”

Vil nods. It might be my imagination, but there’s a faint crease of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Yes. I’m not surprised Crewel has been having you do potions that have even magic infusion throughout. It’s not an easy technique for beginners.”

“And that’s what the water is for?” I ask.

“Mm. It encourages a more even infusion of magic. Though it works poorly in potions where magic is infused throughout, as it can be somewhat diluting.” Vil continues stirring, eyes fixed on the potion. “Get me some bristleroot.”

For a moment, I think he’s talking to Rook, but then he glances at me and goes, “Well?” I scramble to obey, hurrying over to the shelf of ingredients.

And then pause, because the shelf of ingredients is a bit hard to sort through. Everything’s labeled, but some of the labels are a little worn, and a few of them are even facing the wrong way, so I have to rotate them around to check the label. I don’t know what bristleroot even looks like- all the names of plants in Twisted Wonderland are blurring together in my head.

I panic for a moment before Rook leans over me, grabs a jar, and tosses it to Vil without so much as a backward glance. Vil catches it almost effortlessly. “Hm?” Rook hums, looking at me with his patented ‘I’ve figured something out and you don’t know it’ gaze. “Did you not recognize the bristleroot? I was thinking perhaps you hailed from the Shaftlands, but perhaps not, if you cannot recognize its most prolific weed!”

“I just didn’t see it,” I protest. Rook quirks an eyebrow.

“Non? But I saw your eyes move over it at least twice before moving on.” I grind my teeth. He’s not wrong. In my defense, I was looking for something bristly, but the jarred bristleroot is all big, soft flowers.

Rook continues. “You are a most intriguing puzzle, prefect! Not from the Sunset Savannah, for I would know any fellow countryman of my own by sight. I thought, perhaps, the Queendom of Roses, given your proclivity for Heartslabyul, but there isn’t a hint of their accent in your voice!” He leans a little closer, which is impressive because we weren’t that far apart to begin with. “No trace of Scalding Sands accent either. Perhaps the Land of Dawning? Or maybe a Sage Island native? Though have seemed quite unfamiliar with the landscape when we’ve left campus.”

I recoil. “Have you been watching me?”

He’s not even ashamed. “But of course! Why, I could hardly bear to take my eyes off such a strange quarry. One must know their prey, after all, but you have quite a capacity for being unknown!”

I glance back at Vil for help, but he barely seems to be paying attention. Maybe he’s used to Rook being like this. “Uh. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Ah, but that makes it even more enticing to solve!” Rook crows. “Many people attempt to hide, but how much more fascinating is quarry that does not seek to, but does so anyway?”

He’s beaming at me, and I don’t know what to say to throw him off. Except, maybe, some portion of the truth. “It’s personal, and I don’t really want to talk about it. Okay?”

Rook considers me for a moment. I don’t know if that’s actually thrown him, but he isn’t saying anything and isn’t coming closer to me, so it’s sort of a win.

Vil says, “One of you, I need the barriard beetle wings,” and there’s a jar thankfully right next to my elbow, so I gab it and hurry over. Rook’s gaze follows me, but his body does not.

I pass Vil the jar and he carefully sprinkles a small amount into the potion before stirring a few times one way, then a few times the other and aiming his magical pen at the fire to lower the blaze to embers. “The potion looks complicated,” I offer, trying to turn the conversation off me. “If all we needed was a sleeping potion, how come you didn’t just use your signature spell? You can put people to sleep with that, right?”

He lifts a single, elegantly maintained eyebrow at me, his entire expression screaming ‘what are you, some kind of idiot?’ “That would be an extremely inefficient use of my spell, to put a single person to sleep for one night, and doing it repeatedly would be even more of a waste. The sleeping potion is complex, but keeping a cursed object around for the sole purpose of a good night’s sleep is foolish and leads to unnecessary blot accumulation. Not to mention, the sleeping potion will administer a much healthier sleep than my curse would allow.”

I peer at the shifting blue-green liquid in the cauldron. Vil and Crewel were the ones who came to me with this idea, and Crewel stated that he had put everything through the ‘proper channels’ and that Vil was ‘approved’ to give me the potion, but it’s still weird to me, coming from somewhere where this kind of thing is strictly regulated, to have another student making me a sleeping potion.

“I recognize that you don’t have magic yourself, but that’s no excuse to not understand the basics of blot accumulation,” Vil says, and I realize he’s launching into one of his lectures. I pay attention, since getting caught not paying attention is just asking for it. “It should have been discussed within the first few weeks of practical magic.”

Oh. I don’t really remember the first few weeks of practical magic. Between Riddle’s overblot and trying to understand the sudden influx of magic info, some things slipped through the cracks. “Probably,” I say. “I must have missed it.”

Vil gives an irritated little ‘tch.’ “If you’re going to attend Night Raven, you should put a little more effort into your studies. How can someone have their nose buried in a book half the time and not understand blot accumulation in potion making versus spell casting?” He doesn’t even sound particularly mad, just annoyed, but it’s needling. “Even if you are a partial student, you should at least put in the effort to-”

“The effort?” I didn’t even realize I was pissed, but something in me snaps. “I am putting in effort! More effort than anyone here! It’s not my fault my home had no magic and I’m stuck trying to play catch-up while babysitting a bunch of- of-” I realize what I’ve said a moment too late. “Whoops.”

Vil looks stunned, for the first time I’ve known him. His eyes are wide, hands frozen on the stirring paddle. Rook, across the room, looks similarly startled. “I’m sorry,” Vil repeats, tone incredulous. “Did you just say that there is no magic where you come from?”

Crap. This is why I hate the reveal bit. The questions are always so awkward. “Uh. No?”

“Gray.” Vil draws himself up, hands on hips, expression stern. It’s like standing under the full force of a laserbeam. “Explain yourself.”

“Ugh.” I rub my forehead. My brain’s whirring, but I can’t think up a convincing lie fast enough, and I don’t know if even a convincing lie would trick Rook. He seems like a human lie detector. “Yeah, the place I come from doesn’t have magic.”

There’s a pause. “I’ve never heard of a place like that,” Vil says. His tone’s a little gentler, if skeptical. He looks at Rook, who shakes his head. Rook’s gaze never leaves me- I can tell he’s waiting for the next part.

“You probably wouldn’t have. Crowley hadn’t heard of it either. I’m from Earth- it’s a different world.”

Vil’s barely paying attention to the potion anymore. He’s just staring at me. I consider crawling under the bench, just to get away from his and Rook’s stares, but that would probably be more embarrassing. After a moment, the silence gets so awkward, I just start rambling. “Er, even Crowley’s not sure why it happened. I just woke up in the coffin at the entrance ceremony like everyone else. And then the mirror couldn’t send me back home, so I’m just here now, I guess.”

“That’s why you’re staying in Ramshackle,” Vil says. “I was under the impression Crowley had put you there to keep an eye on Grim.”

“No, he put me there before Grim was actually enrolled in the school. Technically I was supposed to work here instead, to pay for my stay-” Vil’s expression goes momentarily weird and hard to read. “-but there was an incident with Grim and Ace and Deuce and I ended up getting enrolled as a student. Well, a partial student.”

Rook is suddenly across the room and very in my personal space. “You have traveled across worlds! How fascinating!” He stares into my face like he’s trying to see traces of home on my features. “With no magic, you say? Our world must be quite the new experience for you! Ah, I’m almost jealous of you being able to view such a different place from your home.”

“It’s not that much to be jealous of,” I say, shrinking back under his gaze. He retreats a little, his expression going ever so slightly softer.

“Oh, yes, I imagine how terrible it would be to be torn from your home with no way to return!” he says, expression dropping into one of maybe slightly overexaggerated misery. “As grateful as I am for your lovely presence, I would hate for your time here to be the cause of your distress, nor would I wish for you to be trapped, as a rabbit in a snare, in a place that is not your own.”

“Ah, well, Crowley said he was looking for a way for me to go back, but he’s also, you know, Crowley, so I don’t know how well that’s going.” I’ve stopped asking him about it. He dodges the question every time. In truth, I don’t know how much I trust him to get this done- after winter break, I think there’s a part of me that doesn’t think I’m ever going home again.

I bite the inside of my lip, hard. I don’t want to cry in front of Rook, and I certainly don’t want to cry in front of Vil. Nobody at Night Raven seems like they’d react well to a show of weakness.

There’s another long moment of silence. I really wish Rook would launch into one of his long, flowery tangents, because it would be a good way to cover up the fact that I’m about two seconds away from bursting into tears and I keep sniffing so my nose doesn’t run.

“Rook,” Vil says. “I need the chamomile. And the mint.” Rook wheels away and the clattering and sizzling of ingredients being moved and added gives me enough space to choke my emotions back into the nice secure pit in my chest. Vil stirs the ingredients into the potion and then turns his attention back to me.

“I’m sorry.” The words hang heavy in the air.

“It’s fine.” I don’t know what else to say. “It’s… nice here. Usually.”

“Hm.” Vil’s lips thin. He keeps stirring. “Rook. Take our guest upstairs, please. She should be given some Pomefiore hospitality while she’s here, yes?”

Rook draws himself up like a taunt bowstring. “Of course, my Roi du Poison! Come along, Trickster.”

“Wait. Didn’t you want me to help with the potion?” I ask.

“I can handle it from here,” Vil sniffs. “Most of the time-critical ingredients have gone in already.” He looks down his nose at me. “I am perfectly capable of completing this on my own.”

I feel myself droop a little. Did the revelation that I’m from a world without magic make him see me as so incompetent I can’t even hand him potion ingredients anymore? I guess I can’t entirely blame him, since I clearly can’t identify anything. Rook gestures me toward the stairs with a little half-bow and I go. I glance over my shoulder at Vil as I go- he’s staring intently into the depths of his potion, brows furrowed in a frown.

Rook practically drags me into through Pomefiore, insisting on giving me a steaming cup of tea and several of those tiny, fancy cookies you serve with tea. I’ve never been much of a tea drinker, but I sip on it to be polite. The cookies are all right. There’s a sandwich cookie with apple butter that makes me wonder if Epel contributed to it. I mention offhandedly about liking the pattern on the drapes and Rook launches into a thirty-minute explanation of the pattern’s history and importance to Pomefiore specifically.

We’re many minutes deep into his rant when Vil returns to the room, no longer wearing his lab uniform. Rook and I changed out of ours before we went to the kitchens. His purple cloak sweeps around him as he sits next to me. He still looks haughty, but there’s something ever so slightly gentler around the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Have you ever taken a potion before?”

“Er. No.” Vil’s expression gets tighter. Wrong answer. “I assumed it was like taking medicine?”

Vil’s jaw relaxes a bit, though the stern lines of his eyes do not. “It’s not entirely dissimilar. The effects will come on faster, though, so I suggest only taking when you are ready to fall asleep.” He passes me a tiny vial of potion, only slightly bigger than my thumb. I stare at it for a moment, then look back at him.

“This is a lot less than what was in the cauldron.”

“I’ll give you as much as you need per day while I’m staying at Ramshackle. We can reassess once the VDC is over.”

I rotate the bottle in my hand, holding it up to catch the light. The potion’s dark, but when the light catches it, I can see that it’s indigo. “There aren’t any side effects?”

“No. It’s not poorly made.” Vil’s lips quirk into a small sneer. “It’s designed for a full eight and a half hours of sleep per dose.” His expression grows stern again. “Which means that if you take the dose later than your bedtime, you won’t wake up in time for class. And I will know. I will administer the doses myself, if you can’t do it on time.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “And it’s not…” I hesitate. Vil raises his eyebrow at me, clearly impatient. “It’s not dangerous at all, is it?”

He snorts. “I’m not trying to poison you. If you take too high of a dose, that could cause excessive sleep, but I know how to measure the dose. You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I tuck the vial into my pocket. “Thank you, Vil.”

His expression softens again, only slightly. It’s strange how just a little quirk of his eyebrows and a shift in his lips makes his whole expression change. Maybe it has to do with him being an actor, or maybe it’s the way his makeup is clearly designed to emphasize his features. “You’re welcome. Though I could hardly allow you to wake every night with your screaming- not only does our manager need to be in good shape to properly support the rest of the team, but you were also waking up everyone else as well, and all of them need a full night’s sleep.” Vil leans back, folding his arms over his chest. His expression fixes on me with his arrow-sharp intensity again. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

I blink. It’s a question I’ve been asked before, but not from Vil. Mostly just from Deuce, Ace, and an over-concerned Kalim. “No. I remember… being afraid? And maybe something hot? But I don’t remember anything specific.”

Vil hums. His gaze remains fixed on me, scanning my expression with deep intensity. After a moment, he sighs. “All right. The potion should allow for a dreamless sleep, but if it fails, then I need to know.”

“I’ll tell you,” I say. He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods.

Rook, on my other side, claps his hand on my shoulder. “How lucky you are, to sample the lovely works of Roi du Poison’s labor! I’m certain it will soothe your troubled sleep.” He squeezes my shoulder, and the gesture is surprisingly comforting.

“Thanks, Rook,” I say and he beams.

“But of course! It has been quite lovely to get to know you more, Trickster!” I don’t know what he’s talking about, since he’s the one that’s been talking the whole time, but I don’t question it.

Vil rises to his feet, tugging his cloak in around him. “We should be heading to practice. Come along, Rook, Gray.” He starts out of the dorm, leaving me and Rook to catch up. The vial in my pocket thumps against my side with every step. I’m relieved to have it. I can’t remember the dreams, like I told Vil, but it’s still unsettling to wake up with my throat raw and my trembling body soaked with sweat. Hopefully this tones them down.

At the very least, I hope it will stop Deuce and Ace from giving me the pitying looks they’ve been shooting me ever since they moved into Ramshackle. I avoided talking about the nightmares for that reason specifically. I don’t want people pitying me. Not at Night Raven, anyway. That’s just asking for trouble. And I’m so damn sick of trouble.

Read the next chapter here.