#and all of the students will know that if they deviate from the kind of answer they *should* have

[violexides]

the American education system needing to be improved and more accessible because as it stands a lot of people lack access to adequate schooling and it has the potential to address really important subjects and provide social support for people

coexists with the idea that societally we should not be trying to pull every piece of information from the American education system because it is not equipped even remotely to address the knowledge that can come from a person's individual lived experience nor provide the information (en masse) that goes against the state that created it.

this is something i thinka bout a lot and try to re-articulate a lot because i am resistant to answering the question "why are you only studying abolition now, through a university?" but i think a lot of things can come out of that line of questioning. because it's not just about academia it's about the people forming those communities to have those dialogues and that is key that is critical. but that doesn't negate the fact that we should have school as a starting place, and a meeting place, for all of that.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

to be fair the further left one side goes the further right the other goes and vice-versa, the two phenomena don't have nothing to do with one another

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[badboydevotee]

Dancing Through the Frost: Jin’s Special Day

Today, however, was a rare anomaly—a day that deviated from his meticulously controlled routines. It was his birthday.

As he stood in his room, surveying out the window, the subtle chill in the air was less about the temperature and more about the solitude he embraced. Frostheim’s corridors and halls, usually brimming with the hustle of its students, were eerily quiet. Today was different, though. Whispers floated through the icy halls like snowflakes in a storm—today was Jin Kamurai’s birthday.

You, on the other hand, were busy in the shadows of the school, preparing for what was perhaps the most challenging task of your time at Frostheim: orchestrating a birthday party for Jin. It wasn’t that you weren’t up to the task; in fact, you had always admired his aloof demeanor and the enigmatic charm that came with it. But Jin was a force of nature, one whose icy exterior made even the thought of approaching him daunting.

“Jin, I need to talk to you,” you called out as you entered his room, holding a list of meticulously planned details for the evening. His gaze, as sharp as ever, met yours with that signature icy coldness that seemed to be his natural state.

“A birthday party?” Jin’s voice was laced with a trace of incredulity as he glanced over his shoulder. “This has Tohma written all over it. That asshole’s always using me to—”

“It’s not Tohma,” you interjected, your voice steady despite the chill that seemed to permeate the room. “I’m planning it.”

Jin’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something different—curiosity, perhaps?—flashed in his eyes. The aloofness that usually defined him seemed to waver for a moment. He turned fully towards you, his posture no longer the embodiment of distant royalty but something more attentive.

“You?” he repeated, his voice softer than usual. There was an odd quality to it, almost like he was trying to wrap his head around this new piece of information.

“Yes,” you said, holding your ground. “I thought it would be nice to do something special for you. If you don’t want to—”

“No,” he cut you off abruptly, though his tone was not harsh. “It’s just... unexpected.”

The evening arrived with the subtle grace of a snowfall, each flake adding to the tapestry of the party you had so carefully prepared. The grand hall of Frostheim, usually a cold expanse of unadorned ice, had been transformed into a warm, inviting space. Twinkling fairy lights, delicate snowflake decorations, and a table laden with every conceivable delight now filled the room. The guests, carefully selected from among the students who were willing to brave Jin’s typical coldness, began to arrive, their chatter a warm contrast to the usual silence of Frostheim.

Jin entered the room, his expression a mask of controlled surprise. His icy blue eyes roamed the space, taking in the scene you had crafted. It was the first time anyone had seen him like this—at a loss for words, his usually unshakeable demeanor softened by the unexpected warmth of the celebration.

“You did all this?” Jin asked, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and something more vulnerable that he rarely showed.

“Yes,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I wanted to make it special for you.”

Jin’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, the ice around his heart seemed to thaw. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied with a gentle smile. “Just enjoy it.”

The party unfolded with a series of surprising moments for Jin. The usual aloofness that characterized him gave way to a genuine smile, a rare and beautiful sight. As the evening progressed, he found himself enveloped not just by the warmth of the celebration but by the warmth of your presence. Your unwavering support, your kindness, and the effort you had poured into making this night special had broken through the barriers he had so carefully constructed.

When the time came for the final dance—a tradition that Jin had previously only participated in as a formality—he extended his hand towards you. “Would you care to dance?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of something softer than the usual command.

You took his hand, feeling the coolness of his touch contrast sharply with the warmth of the room. As you danced together, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. The ice that had once seemed so impenetrable around Jin was now melting away, revealing a side of him that was tender and genuine.

“You know,” Jin said softly as you danced, his breath warm against your ear, “this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You looked up at him, seeing the true Jin Kamurai—vulnerable, appreciative, and undeniably more human than the Ice King everyone else saw. “I’m glad,” you replied, resting your head against his shoulder.

In that moment, under the soft glow of the fairy lights and amidst the warmth of the celebration, you both understood something profound. The ice that had once defined Jin Kamurai was melting, not just because of the warmth of the party, but because of the warmth you had brought into his life. He was no longer just a figure of authority and aloofness. He was simply Jin, a man who, despite his cold exterior, had a heart that could be touched by genuine affection.

Jin held you close, his touch both firm and gentle, as if he was trying to express everything he couldn’t say in words. And as the evening wore on, with laughter and music filling the air, you knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful—something that went beyond the ice and into the heart.

" A birthday party? This has Tohma written all over it, that asshole's always using me to─ You're planning it? I'll think… about it." ─Jin's birthday voiceline - A03 vers.

[vorfreudevortex]

a portrait of us - nine

a nanami x reader smau

masterlist

warnings: angst lol, slow burn, swearing, a little ooc, a typo or two

notes: 1.6k words and i am only a little sorry

nanami kento had no idea what he what he was doing.

he was not the kind of man who pursued a woman from a relationship that had ended over a decade ago, nor the type to follow one who vanished without a goodbye and hadn’t spoken to him since. in truth, he wasn’t one to chase after any woman at all. his life allowed no time for such foolishness, and he had yet to meet anyone else worthy of that time.

he also wasn’t the type to deviate from his usual schedule and activities. for nanami, saturday evenings were reserved for a leisurely stroll through the park near his apartment, ending in a visit to the grocery store for fresh meat and produce. then, he’d return home to cook himself a hearty dinner, usually indulging in a favorite recipe but sometimes experimenting with a new one.

he’d relish his meal with a glass of expensive, but not too expensive, wine before indulging in a hot bath. his favorite ritual was finishing the bottle with a few chapters of a book while soaking in bath salts and lavender until the water turned cold.

if the book captivated him, he’d continue reading in bed; otherwise, he might watch a nostalgic movie in the living room. saturday nights were his sanctuary, a time to indulge in simple pleasures: fresh air, a home-cooked meal, wine, a book, and a restful night with no morning obligations.

that was absolutely not the case for nanami tonight.

he suspected he might be coming down with something, as he felt unusually off while scrutinizing his freshly trimmed hair in the mirror. this afternoon, he had an impulsive urge to tidy up his undercut and hairline. earlier that morning, he felt strangely compelled to invest in new clothing—a sage green linen blazer and ankle-length slacks, to be precise.

he donned his new outfit, carefully combing through his hair one last time. He wore his usual brown dress shoes, watch, and leather holster over his white shirt, carrying his blunt sword. nanami decided to forgo his beloved spotted necktie, instead folding it neatly into his blazer’s inner pocket, just in case. the outfit felt unfamiliar, and he wondered if the men in fashion magazines felt equally peculiar in such short pants.

nanami was now convinced he had caught a strange cold or flu. why was he wearing sage green? why had he purchased it, knowing he’d likely never wear it again? why was he grabbing a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite, before locking the door and heading to his car? and although he loved art, why was he preparing to attend a sumptuous gallery opening, filled with wealthy patrons he didn’t want to be around?

as his trembling fingers unlocked the car door, he made a mental note to schedule a doctor’s appointment later in the week.

———

the director placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as he handed you the microphone. over 250 hands applauded, but their sound was merely a distant murmur. you took a steadying breath as the applause faded and prepared to speak.

“i'd like to thank you all for attending my gallery tonight,” you began. “i never imagined my art would one day be in a museum gallery, and i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity.”

as the audience applauded again, you searched for satoru, shoko, and the students. you finally spotted them in the middle of the crowd—shoko waved, satoru and yuji gave a thumbs-up, and the other students smiled warmly. you grinned in response, comforted by familiar faces among a sea of strangers.

“i've always gravitated toward modern pieces with bold traits and colors, but i also create works inspired by famous art. i love re-imagining poses, emotions, and other elements from those pieces to capture the redefined aura i perceive from them. i've never settled on a single style, so you’ll notice my art incorporates elements from neoclassicism to impressionism, all on one canvas.”

you silently scanned the audience, gauging their reactions. you noticed the woman from malaysia, with whom you’d spoken with earlier, listening intently with a gentle smile. nearby stood an older gentleman from london, whose questions about your work had left you unsure of his opinion. his bored expression unsettled you, but you took a deep breath and continued.

“um,” you paused. “i want to express my gratitude to all of you, the museum, its patrons, and the director, with a collection of pieces created especially for my first major gallery opening. these have never been seen before and are unlike anything i've ever done. they hold deep personal significance for me…"

you turned to join four staff members, each standing beside an easel draped in black cloth, and positioned yourself next to the largest one in the center. you nodded to them and began unveiling the canvases. gasps and murmurs from the crowd turned to smiles and applause, bringing relief. your eyes met satoru's once more. he stared back, sunglasses in hand, his bright blue eyes piercing into you, mouth hanging open.

the first painting depicted him.

reminiscent of michelangelo's david, your artwork portrayed satoru with rigid, alabaster skin. one hand held a galaxy of stars, while the other formed a circle with his thumb and middle finger connecting. at first glance, the background seemed a deep, black abyss, but closer inspection revealed the painstakingly small, barely perceptible eyes you had meticulously added with matte paint.

this symbolized satoru's unparalleled power in the universe, a singular masterpiece constantly revered yet scrutinized, along with his inability to move and act freely as he wished.

the second painting featured suguru.

inspired by caspar david friedrich's wanderer above the sea of fog, it depicted suguru, his jet-black hair blowing in the wind, standing on a cliff gazing out over a misty landscape of blurred, colorful spheres. it was the dead of night, with no stars, except for a small moon shaped like an eye with a blue iris. unlike the original, your painting allowed the viewer to see suguru beginning to step off the cliff with a relieved smile.

it symbolized suguru's internal struggle with purpose and responsibility, ultimately deciding to take control and let go, as you always knew he would.

the third painting portrayed shoko.

inspired by frida kahlo's the broken column, it depicted shoko with waist-length hair, her face turned skyward, tears streaming down her cheeks. her thin, frail body was torn in half by hands reaching into the frame, revealing her spine replaced by a large surgeon’s scalpel. the background featured a familiar, glowing, traditional japanese door, blurred by smoke.

this represented shock's duty to the jujutsu society, always giving but never taking, until all that remained were her tools and an unrepairable broken body.

the fourth painting was of yu.

you replaced the woman in lawrence alma-tadema's pandora, with the painting ending at the waist. his body was strong and flushed, gazing down at the box with a familiar smile and wide, curious eyes. instead of a floral crown, you encircled his head with a halo of stars, and the background depicted him resting in a serene, lush meadow.

you couldn’t resist creating a more joyful piece for him, symbolizing the grace of his death and much-needed rest while unknowingly wreaking havoc on those near him. only later did you realize the extent of the pain his peace would bring when you first painted the portrait.

the final and largest painting was a portrait you began shortly after leaving japan many years ago and only recently completed. it was inspired by frank bernard dicksee's la belle dame sans merci.

you and nanami.

you sat on a muscular, snowy white horse, anxious and impatient to move on. instead of a pink gown like the original, you wore navy with gold buttons on the chest, torn and splattered with bright crimson blood. your expression held a pained smile, tears streaming down your cheeks.

nanami stood on the ground beside you, one hand clutching your tattered gown, the other ensnared by blades of grass and flowers climbing his wrist and forearm. tears welled in his eyes, but his face remained blank and unreadable. he wore a suit of armor like the knight in the original, but it was dull, dark, and littered with dents, holes, and bloodstains.

this was your most prized work of art, embodying the unspoken goodbye between you and your first love. the anxious horse represented your urge to flee, while the tattered, bloodied gown symbolized the physical and mental toll of jujutsu. your expression showed the relief of leaving and the guilt of doing so. nanami's face masked his betrayal with stoicism, yet tears betrayed him to reveal his grief of losing yet another loved one. the flowers and grass symbolized his responsibilities in tokyo—the lives he needed to protect, the elders to please, and the peers to support.

you looked out at the audience with a bright, confident smile, scanning the patrons’ faces to see if their applause matched their thoughts. you started with satoru, shoko, and the students, all clapping happily, with satoru and shoko waving with flushed cheeks. the bored man from london now appeared intrigued, especially by the painting of suguru.

your eyes skipped over a stiff figure near the back of the audience.

i hadn’t noticed that man here before, you thought.

no.

he’s all too familiar.

your gaze landed on the man with broad shoulders clad in a dusty sage green blazer over a crisp ivory shirt, sandy blonde hair neatly cut and parted. hollow cheeks framed a strong jaw, and soft, coffee-brown eyes bored into yours. 

it simply couldn’t be him… 

no- it simply couldn’t be anyone else.

nanami kento.

next: part ten

tag list // @bubybubsters @sad-darksoul @corvid007 @kenqki @ikon-teen

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[lalalian]

I always think to myself, "I'm out of ideas... I'm out of actually cool, creative ideas, will I have to shut all my shit down? How am I supposed to continue posting if I've got nothing..." but then, the next second I'll come up with something that genuinely could be a whole ass dr

...

here's a dump of some of the drs I've been wanting to make into filled scripts for awhile now, but I haven't even started designing the scripts for them yet.

Some of them are literally just titles, but idk I just know I can work with it yk?

since I finished some prototyping hw today, I'll put in a little more effort sectioning this post

some of the ideas in question

cloud catcher: steampunk reality based on a cloud city, you've got a job as a cloud catcher, your job is to catch and sell different kinds of clouds, have a cloud shop

inedible edible cafe: inedible things here (in our OR) would be edible in this dr.. Initially I only wanted to include slime as a dish, but now I want to make dishes with different ingredients, like puffy sticker cereal or sum shit

shifting school dr: okay so this actually was a trend on shifttok for a sec, it was called a 'mysterious school' idk why. anyway, this school was supposed to be it's own dr, but I think i may include it in my dreamscape dr

magitech engineer dr: ngl this idea was in the fucking basement of my mind-- ain't nobody gonna wanna shift here besides for someone that actually likes crafting things. idk i just feel like it’s a niche idea

number magic: uh so no, that's not the title for this dr-- I just really wanna make a dr with this kind of system. idk I was just in world lit class and I realized the poem I was reading was repeating the number 5. we were supposed to analyze the poem, but my dumbass just started daydreaming... anyway, next idea

fantasy cosmetic makeup maker dr: so like imagine handmaking make up with like... mermaid pearls or like ground unicorn horns (sourced ethically of course-- unicorns will shed their horns like baby teeth throughout their lifetime. I cannot imagine depriving a unicorn of its horn... imagine doing that... what a psycho😨) you could make like a mermaid line, a sky beauty line, IMAGINE THE PACKAGING. STOP. WAIT. FLOWER KNOWS. AHHH.

guardian flame: I have so little down for this DR lmao 😭😭 essentially like you're some sort of being that's been assigned to protect another, probably someone who isn't as strong as you. the kinda oddball part about your drself in particular is that you have to go to school to train how to be a good protector, but like you've already got a person you need to protect. nobody is assigned to protect anyone until affffftteeerrr graduation, but ur stuck with an idiot

futuristic skater/futuristic biker: self explanatory! I also wanted this to be in a high school setting. this idea stemmed from me just wanting a high school futuristic dr, cuz like yk I was curious about what high school students would need to learn. what would be considered important to learn about? would all students be taught about how to make technology we would find difficult to make today? what about psychology class? what new theories would arise? what would students think about our generation (in our CR) today? would they think we're stupid, crass, or selfish? anyway, initially I just wanted to go to school and walk around... but, I had a dream about living in the future, more abt that in the next idea (this idea is getting long). Instead, I think I wanna deviate a bit from what I would usually do here and in literally every other school dr I have-- I want to experience what it'd be like to be a... deliquient? idk, growing up i kinda just was just that quiet girl that listened to her parents... soooooooo why not do smth different? I'm still not gonna drink or do drugs tho, boooooooo ik so boring 🙄🙄 oh also I was gonna have a group of friends that were also skaters or bikers and compete in definitely legal biker/skater competitions

futuristic entertainment district: anyway more about that dream, essentially everyone was wearing these levitating rocket boots that looked a lot like roller skates (they had those wheels at the bottom of the shoes). the city was like a huge pot hole filled with stores on the side, but like it seemed like parts of the land was broken apart and floating around-- even those had advertisements and people singing and dancing on them. like this pot hole city was filled to the brim with advertisements, shops, stores, entertainment places, literally I remember that there was a huge section of like idol shit. there were a lot of people darting around the place using those levitating boots I was wearing, but there were also futuristic floating cars. imagine cyberpunk but if it was located in a big ass pot hole. yah, that. idk i just wanna explore

dystopian futuristic dr: similar to cyberpunk in the fact that it's a world dominated by companies; I want to join an underground group that wants to overtake the gov and make the world less ass

singles inferno - introvert ver: I actually have all the contestants scripted + designed a script for this DR, but I haven't worked on this script in a whiillleeeee. I wanna be song jia. not literally, but like I want to have her charm, yk? ok so the introvert part-- a lot of the game will take place in a group chat room. you do challenges in-person and in this chatroom to get a date, sometimes it's a random date, but most of the time it's like your choice. very heavily inspired by a game called picka!

a minecraft roleplay dr: I know at least one of yall cringed so hard at this, trust me, I knooowwwww-- but I really want to be like the next aphmau or smth. oh except I don't want to make kid vids, tho I'm sure yall knew that right. I want to recreate aethergarde academy in minecraft (ALSO ALRUNA TOO OMFG) but then I also wanna do other things that aren't dr related. idk I just know that this DR's gonna be sooooo fun. I haven't even decided on a channel name yet 😭😭

...

uh so I prob got more, but these were just the ones that came to mind

I'll prob make a part two when I'm lazy with posting

if anyone wants to use these ideas, please do credit me! if one of yall see someone using my ideas without credit, plz plz tell me, ty!

[shinynewboots]

Hazbin Hotel Characters as Medical Specialties

Charlie: Pediatrics

You're telling me can't imagine Charlie with Bluey stickers in her pocket and saying "oh I see a dog in your ear. Woof!" When using an otoscope on a child with an ear infection? Be so for real rn

Vaggie: Emergency Medicine

This woman thrives in chaos, she grew up on a battefield. The ED is the Wild West of medicine and Vaggie thrives under the constant stress and variety

Vaggie: "what do you mean you were woodworking while drinking, are you fucking stupid"

Vox: Nephrology

Okay, okay this one is less based in personality and more based in the fact that I need to see a pissing competition between Vox and Alastor (as a cardiologist) about fluid status and renal function

Vox: *decreases lasix dosage in a patient with poor renal function*

Alastor: *punches Vox bc that patient is also fluid overloaded and has heart failure with a reduced ejection fraction*

Velvette: Dermatology

Listen you can't tell me that she didn't have amazing skin when she was alive. I can see her moving more towards the cosmetic side of dermatology with occasional biopsy or Mohs bc who doesn't love a procedure every once in a while

Cherri: ICU/Crit Care

Like Vaggie, Cherrie also thrives in chaos and things in the ICU can go from 0 to 100 in less than a minute. I also feel like she would have pretty good empathy and separation of work and home to be able to not let the job get to her too much

Angel: Psych

This just feels perfect to me, more based on my own experience but everyone I've met in Psych is kind while also being the coolest person you've ever met. I also think Angel would really be able to empathize with his patients based on his own history with addiction. He really likes to listen and offer support and advice.

Alastor: Cardiothoracic surgeon or Cardiologist (to get into a pissing contest with Vox about fluid and sodium)

Look, I know Al is like the perfect surgeon. He's intimidating, meticulous, and calculating. And I don't disagree, I think he would thrive as a CT surgeon...however, there's just something about him arguing with the nephrologist that just gives me the giggles

Lucifer: Internal Medicine

Listen, he's done it all and seen it all. He will spend hours rounding because he just wants to make sure he gets everything right (he's also avoiding going home alone but that's a different story). He also loves working with medical students and will give rousing lectures on first-line antihypertensive and diabetes medications (while also getting all of the students and residents names wrong).

Lute: OBGYN

Listen, I love Lute but if I knew her in real life she would intimidate me so badly. Much like the OBGYN attendings I worked with. She's amazing at her job and beloved by her patients for her blunt yet realistic recommendations, but in her L&D room or operating room, that is her domain and there is no deviation from that. Medical students and residents should exercise caution, but she will teach them the most out of any rotation

Adam: Orthopedics

This man is an ortho bro if I've ever see one. He is the attending who will pimp medical students on the playlist he has playing in the OR instead of the surgery in front of them. (What do you mean you don't know what artist this is? It's the fucking Eagles. Go home and study up, we're playing Led Zepplin tomorrow.)

Niffty: Pathology

Listen I have no explanations for this one. It just felt perfect, tbh

Husk: Anesthesia

This man is like every anesthesiologist I've ever met. He is there stereotype and sits behind the current with his sudoku in hand. Don't let that fool you, this man has knowledge and skill and is not afraid to use. The second your patient starts de-sating or coding, he's the one you wanna listen to

Rosie: Family Medicine

Rosie is the picture-perfect family medicine attending. Kind, empathetic and offers great advice. From cradle to grave, she's got you covered with primary prevention and screening and will be there for you for whatever comes next

Lol this is meant in good fun, so there are a few stereotypes about the different specialties and a lot of it is based on my own experiences on rotations. Let me know what you guys think. I know I missed some characters so let me know if y'all want me to come up with more.

[twstfanblog]

*~Toddler Chronicles-3rd Years Starter~*

A/N: I've been wanting to write this series for MONTHS. but if Im gonna do this, I'm gonna do it in ORDER no matter how much I wanna do certain ones more than others. I hope you guys enjoy the starter for this series! It's gonna be LONG. Word Count: 5K Pairings: Alluded to Vil/Rook Warnings: Children, Me trying to type out a country accent lord help me...

Starter, Pt 1

“I don't think this is a good idea…”

A cloaked group of Night Raven students stood around a cauldron, the only light in the room coming from the bubbling liquid and the moonlight shining through the windows. They all wore masks to hide their identities from the nosey paintings lining the walls.

One of the figures scoffed, their accented voice coming out mockingly as they continued to stir the potion and whispered, “Oh, don't get cold feet now. This whole thing was your idea anyway…”

“I said we should think something up to knock those guys down a peg! Not brew a-”

“Shhhhhh.” Another figure quickly silenced him, turning to look at one of the eavesdropping portraits before addressing the group with a gruff whisper, “We agreed on not saying anything too damning while doing this! Those portraits would sell us out the second anyone asked them if they saw anything…Let’s just finish the damn potion so we can get on with this plan…”

The accented figure nods, reaching over and grabbing a jar to pour the contents into the cauldron.

Another figure reads the jar, tilting their head, “Wait… ‘Powdered Moon Petals’? Didn't the recipe call for ‘Powdered Moon Crystals’? Why are we deviating?”

“Are you insane?” The figure pauses in his stirring to flick at the other in annoyance, “Crewel keeps stuff like that under such heavy lock and key he'd have us expelled for even looking at the cabinet out of class hours. Moon petals are weaker but still have the same effect as moon crystals…” The figure looks at the potion, then adds another generous pour from the jar, “We just need to mix in a bit more than written…”

As the figure stops pouring, the potion gives a flash of light, slipping into an eerily calm shade of blue before fully turning translucent. The group all looked into the cauldron before sharing a smile.

“Now we just need to find a way to slip it to them.”

The nervous figure hummed, bringing his hand to his mouth in thought, “I think…I know the perfect way to do it…”

The sound of a gavel hitting a desk echoed in the semi-empty classroom, Vil sitting at the grand desk in front, “I call this meeting of ‘Juniors Against Freshmen’ to order.”

Cater calls out from his seat, smiling playfully as he raises his hand, “Vil~. I still think we should call ourselves ‘Judicious Juniors’-”

“We aren’t calling ourselves that.”

“Oh, come on.” Cater pouts, “The firsties get their cute little group of Freshest Firsties. We should have a cool group name, too.”

Trey chuckled a bit, raising an eyebrow, “You know this is a support group and not a club right?”

Rook hummed, looking to the side at the small gathering of party platters and large juice dispenser on a lone row of desks, “Are you sure, mon Chevalier des Roses? Though, maybe you are correct and this is more of a party between scorned mentors…”

Idia scoffed, tapping at his phone and tilting it slightly to allow Lilia to watch his game, “I'm not sitting in here for another four hours complaining about our freshmen without any kind of rations. Being around you guys is already like running a dungeon without healing items…”

Lilia perks up, giggling as Idia fails to dodge an attack, “So stimulating and fun?”

Leona sighs, lazily picking at his plate of various slices of meat from the platters, “More like aggravating and torturous…”

Vil bangs the gavel again, rolling his eyes, “Back on subject, please. Idia, you requested to be the first to speak tonight; what was your grievance?”

Sighing, Idia passed his phone to Lilia to continue his dungeon run, “Who's representing Yuu this meeting?” Seeing Malleus and Rook raise their hands, he nearly sat back down, “Oh, of course…Ah! Nope, I'm doing it. I move to add another crime to Yuu's file.”

“Noted. Please state the crime.”

“I want to add on the crime of Yuu teaching my brother the phrasing of ‘Deez Nuts’. I recommend we place another life sentence.”

Malleus frowns, ignoring Lilia's snort beside him and raising his hand, “I object! We have no evidence that my beloved is the one to teach your brother such a phrase.”

Vil raised an eyebrow, leaning his jaw against the back of his hand, “Who else would teach Ortho?”

Gesturing to his side, Malleus deadpans, “Lilia for one.”

Lilia fumbled Idia’s phone as he stammered, managing to just barely flip the device into a still-standing Idia’s hands, “Slander! I regret to inform this court that I do not speak to the Shroud youngling one-on-one often. Our cuteness would simply be too much.” He turns to Malleus, nose wrinkled as he raises an eyebrow in question, “Do you even know what ‘Deez Nuts’ means Malleus?”

“...” Malleus nearly copies Lilia's expression, turning his nose up at the older fae and looking away from him, “I do not. But it sounds eerily similar to something you would say.”

Lilia pouts toward Vil, crossing his arms, “I did no such thing…” He hums, casting a side eye to Cater across the room and raising a hand to tap against his lips, “Ace on the other hand…”

Cater perks up from his texting, slamming a fist onto the desk and yelling over to Lilia, “Why do you always bring up Ace’s crimes when I'm defending him!? Why not when Trey’s his third-year parent!?”

Trey hummed, sitting calm and relaxed knowing he'd have a smooth meeting acting as Deuce’s defendant, “He would though…”

“Trey, Ace is our baby. We have to protect his name!”

“This is your weekend; sorry.”

Cater groaned, rolling his eyes before standing up and pointing to Leona on the other side of Trey, “What about Jack, huh!?”

Leona stopped picking at his fangs with a claw, sucking on his teeth before he raised an eyebrow in question to Cater, “What about Jack?”

Vil spoke up, resting his chin on his elegantly folded hands, “Yes. Do tell, Cater. What about Jack?”

“...” Cater quickly turned back to Lilia, pointing to him instead of trying to place the blame on Jack, “What about Sebek!?”

Lilia and Malleus both gasped, Lilia placing a hand over his mouth and Malleus's fanned over his chest while the older fae said, “Sebek would never.”

“W-well!” Cater sputtered, frustrated at the turn of events before rounding on Vil, “What about Epel!?”

Vil instantly opened his mouth, a finger held up to properly chastise Cater but he sat frozen. He closed his mouth, a pinched expression on his face as he put his finger down and looked to the side. After a moment, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “He…wouldn't…he…knows better…”

Rook cooed from his seat, raising an eyebrow, “Oh…mon roi. Did that hurt to say?”

“Moving on.”

Idia stammered, raising his hands, “I would like a verdict on my case, please!? Ortho is aggressively good at setting me up, I'm getting really sick of it!”

Vil rolled his eyes and gestured to Rook, “We will choose after a small break. Rook, please bring me something from the vegetable platter and a drink.”

“Oui!”

Though mildly by force, the group of juniors decided to take a break. While only a few of them grabbed food, they all grabbed a cup of juice. Nearly in sync, they all take a drink.

…

Leona looked into his cup, squinting his eyes in offense at the liquid, “Who was in charge of the punch?”

Malleus pouted, looking into his own cup in confusion, “I was…”

Rolling his eyes, Leona slid his cup away from him, “Oh, that fucking explains it.”

Trey was quick, grabbing Leona's cup before it spilled onto the classroom floor. Standing up he took both his and Leona's cups to the trash, “Don't start a fight. I'm sure Malleus tried very hard…”

The fae in question turned his sour expression toward Lilia. When Lilia said nothing, merely continuing to drink his juice with a smile, Malleus breathed out a small fireball at Lilia's face.

“Ack! My bangs!” Lilia finally pouted at Malleus, expression confused, “Why are you fussing? The juice tastes fine!”

Cater passes his own cup to Rook as the blonde also collects Vil's unfinished drink, “Lilia, it has the aftertaste of dishwater…”

“...” Lilia took another sip of the juice, smacking his lips as he fully concentrated on the flavor, “...Well, that's not dishwater, I can say that with utmost certainty.” he looked into his half-empty cup, “What is that…?”

Leona coughed slightly, still trying to dislodge the taste from his mouth, “The taste of Draconia fucking up…”

“I will have you know I collaborated with the Asim child on what would be a delightful mix for our meeting.”

“Oh, so we need to sentence Kalim to death alongside you then?”

Idia groaned, digging through his pockets for an emergency piece of hard candy, “Maybe it was…like a ‘phantom flavor’, or something?” He cheers under his breath, quickly unwrapping the candy and shoving it into his mouth.

Vil finishes wiping his tongue on a napkin, “Explain.”

“Oh Seven, um? Yuu told Ortho about it and he's been researching it for a while. It’s the idea that you can load something up with so many flavors you just…make a new flavor that you can't place…not sure how concrete it is, but that's my best guess…”

Malleus hums, glaring into his cup before letting Rook take it to the trash also, “Asim did bring a large variety of syrups and sprites…”

Cater hummed, “Yeah…I love Kalim but I'm not so sure about putting him in charge of drinks…Jamil handles the food for their parties for a reason…” 

Trey smiled, giving Malleus a thumbs up, “But other than the aftertaste, it was really enjoyable, Malleus.”

“I can see your attempts to pacify me, Clover. I shall accept your pity only this once.”

“Okay?”

Vil sighs, banging his gavel on the desk, “Moving on-”

“Um!?” Idia waved a hand around, his hair barely flickering red, “The verdict of my issue, please!?”

“Oh. Right. We sentence Ace to death-”

Cater sputters, looking around the room before tilting his head at Vil, “AGAIN!?”

The meeting continued as normal, though no one could get the phantom taste of the punch free from their mouths, the third years parted ways at the end of the night.

Epel groaned, stomping down the halls of Pomefiore in the early morning. Vil had yet to make an appearance in the dining hall to the rest of the dorm. The house warden made it a habit to always give a morning announcement on the weekend like clockwork, only for neither Vil nor Rook to show up at the normal time.

If he had the choice, Epel wouldn't have even bothered seeing where they were, opting instead to just get his weekend started and hang out with his friends. Sadly, the other third-years had been concerned enough to basically bully him into checking up on their dorm head and vice. ‘You're their favorite, after all…’

Clicking his tongue, Epel ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “Even if ah was their favorite, ah don’ wanna see whatever they're doin’ together...”

He couldn’t fight the unease that welled inside him as he came up to Vil's door, seeing it cracked open but still dark inside. Vil never left his door cracked to sleep…Epel quickly jogged to the room, swinging open the door only to growl in anger at the scene.

The room was dark because the curtains were still drawn and Vil's bed wasn't made, the covers thrown off and half dragged onto the floor as though Vil had crawled out of them. What was pissing him off the most though was the fact Vil's silk pajama pants were also laying on the floor.

He slammed the door closed, making a beeline for Rook's room thinking of nowhere else for them to be, “Ah swear ta the SEVEN. If those two are late because they rolled too hard in the hay-AY! 

Epel banged his fist against Rook's closed door, hearing nothing but silence he started to pound both fists against the door and yell. Hopefully, they had woken up and at least tried to put clothing on, “You two shits better be DRESSED or Ah’m gonna-...”

He had swung the door open, expecting to find a scene of a flustered Vil trying to put himself together and an all too proud Rook sitting in the bed. Instead, he looked at the image of two toddlers on Rook's bed. A bold gold blonde with a messy haircut and green eyes stood on the bedspread, a hand reaching out to the bow and arrow placed on a wall display. Behind him was a second blonde child, large purple eyes peeking past the second child in fear. The longer he looked the more familiar the children appeared.

Epel closed the door, staring into the open air of the hall as he tried to let his brain catch back up. That…that couldn't be…

Taking a deep breath, Epel calmed himself before opening the door again, “Um-AH!” He slams the door back closed, backing away just in time as an arrowhead pierces just slightly through the door.

The look was brief, but the children were clearly Rook and Vil. The fact Rook had quickly gathered a bow in the few seconds Epel had closed the door only cemented the fact. His juniors…were toddlers…why were they toddlers? What was he supposed to do with two potentially homicidal toddlers!?

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, gently knocking on the door and calling out softly, “Ah…Ah'm sorry if ah scared y'all. Ah'm gonna go get ya some grub and clothes that'll fit, okay?”

After a beat of silence, a tiny voice spoke, “I don't want to eat bugs…”

“...” Epel pinched the bridge of his nose. That…had to be Vil, “Grub is food. Ah'm gettin’ ya food…”

“...Oh. Okay. I want fruit and toast, please, thank you…Rook says he wants eggs and bell peppers.”

“Shakshuka!”

“Got it! You two youngings just hang tight, okay?” What the fuck was a Shakshuka?

He didn't have time to worry, dialing Ace’s number and running back to the Pomefiore dining hall to alert his still-grown juniors. He needed all the help he could get.

Epel spoke over the phone, “Ah need ya to get Trey and come to Pomefiore. ASAP.”

Biting into his poptart, Ace responded with a full mouth as he leisurely walked through the halls of Heartlabyul, “For why?”

“Can ya please just not be a fucking bastard fur 5 seconds-”

“Maybe, what's wrong? It's like 8am?”

“...” Epel sighed, the visual of him pinching the bridge of his nose clear in Ace’s mind, “...They're…They're toddlers-”

“I'm sorry. Who’s, what?”

Ace listened to Epel's rant over the phone, claiming both Vil and Rook had somehow turned into toddlers. They didn't seem to have any recollection of who anyone was or how they got into NRC, leaving the dorm in a weakened, panicked state. Through the chaos, missing both their dorm head and vice, various students stepped forward claiming they were the proper ones to take over until this curse was dealt with.

In the moments of strife, Epel had been given the title of babysitter. ‘Since he was the Favorite’.

“How the fuck do you…become a toddler?”

“Ah. Don't. KNOW. Just get Clover over hur to HELP. The third-years are fighting over who gets to wear Vil's crown while he's like this, and everyone else is freaking out like we're about to be under siege any second now. Ah just need an actual component Junior who isn't trying to usurp Vil while he's a defenseless fucking infant right now…”

Ace muttered under his breath but agreed, changing course to go up the stairs to the third-year’s room. Over the line he could hear Epel directing the other Pomefiore students what Vil and Rook had asked for breakfast and if anyone had clothing that could fit children or how to make them fit. Knocking against Trey’s door, Ace realized that he hadn't heard from the third-year yet today either. Normally, Trey would have been up already and making some basic breakfast pastry for the dorm to nibble on until that day's scheduled tea time.

“Trey? You in there man? Something happened in Pomefiore and Epel needs you there like, now…” his brows furrowed at not receiving an answer after another knock, turning the knob to open the door, “Trey? Yo, Trey-...”

In the full-sized canopy bed was Trey, only much smaller and seemingly struggling to place his now too-large glasses on his face. Tiny hands trapped in the sleeves of his button-up sleep shirt.

“...” Ace closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before pulling the phone from his ear and speaking to the toddler in the bed, “Give me a second buddy, I'll come back and help you in a hot minute.”

Large topaz eyes blinked in surprise, Trey held his frames over an eye and closed the other tightly to see Ace clearly, “Who are you?”

“Be back in a minute.” Ace closed the door, putting the phone back to his ear, “ Hey, Epel? Um…we also got a fucking situation over here.”

“What!?”

Ace saw Deuce walking up the stairs, the spade soldier barely getting a greeting out before Ace pointed over his shoulder to the other third-year rooms, “Go check on, Cater. I'm…I got a bad feeling.”

“A bad feeling about what-”

“Just go check, I gotta talk to Riddle!” Ace rushed past Deuce, giving the other first-year no time to question or properly reject his command. 

Deuce sighed but decided to wait on taking his shower after checking on his senpai. Maybe he should have followed Jack's example and stayed at Ramshackle after their morning run…

Ace really didn't mean to slam the door open, but hearing it bash against the side table against the wall only made him pause briefly before addressing Riddle, “Hey, house warden, something happened…”

Riddle didn't look up from his paperwork, sighing and clicking his pen back into an active magic state, poised to fire his collaring spell at Ace, “Someone had better be gravely injured if you're slamming my office door open without even knocking…”

“...” Ace looked to the side, quietly contemplating before looking back to Riddle, “Define injured.”

“Ace-” a jaunty tune started to play from Riddle's phone, making the second-year sigh and hold up a finger, “One moment, Deuce is calling me.”

Ace watches as Riddle answers his phone, both of them jumping in surprise hearing the piercing cries of a child through the receiver. Epel spoke frantically, asking what was going on as Ace shushed him over the phone.

Riddle quickly puts the phone on speaker, calling out in concern, “Deuce!? What's happening, is that a child in the background!?”

“Rosehearts-senpai, help! Cater’s, like, a little kid!?”

The crying voice on the other side calls out, “Go away! You weird guy! I don't know you!”

“Is Ace there!? I need help, he's trying to run out of the room and he kicks surprisingly hard!”

“You SMELL!”

Ace pointed at the phone, catching Riddle's bewildered expression, “Yeah, that…that's what happened to Trey…”

“...”

“So, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Trey Clover, and Cater Diamond have all turned into young children and retain no memory from their appropriate ages?”

“None, seemingly. We've managed to get Cater to calm down by giving him his phone though. I also casted a resize charm on Trey’s glasses but I would still appreciate if Idia could produce a proper pair after a brief eye exam.”

Ortho nods at Riddle's report, floating down the halls of Ignihyde to reach his brother's room. The house warden had called him since Idia wasn't picking up his phone, so he had to contact the next best person. Idia was possibly still asleep since he gamed much later than normal last night.

“Do you have any information on the Pomefiore third-years?”

“Epel has stated they're both fairly calm after the initial surprise. As far as I know, they’re being fed and clothing is being gathered.”

Ortho reaches his brother's door, “That's good. I will contact our dorm advisor to let him know of the current situation. You should focus on attending to your afflicted dorm members while Nii-san and I work with the teachers to reverse this.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ortho. I will keep you posted- Ace put Trey down! You're upsetting him! I must go, keep me informed, please.”

“Will do, Riddle Rosehearts! Farewell for now!” Ortho taps his ear, ending the call. Turning to the door he knocks, “Nii-san! It’s me, please open the door!” hearing no reply, Ortho pressed in his override code to open the door himself and turned the lights on in the process, “Nii-San, we need to-...”

His brother’s room was messy as it always was. But laying on the bed, swimming in his now truly oversized hoodie, was a very small version of his brother sleeping. He was starfished on the duvet, one hand managing to escape the large amount of fabric to suck on his thumb contently.

“...Idia?”

The child whimpered, brows furrowing before he rolled over and snuggled deeper into his pillow, “Five more minutes, mama…”

“...” Ortho turned the light back off, “Five more minutes…” he barely registered the sleepy ‘thank you’ before he was closing the door back, pressing in another code to lock it from all access other than his own. He tapped his ear, redialing Riddle. Once the house warden answered, Ortho spoke, “Something happened…”

Yuu and Jack stood in the Ramshackle kitchen, both leaning over the island and looking at each other in silence.

Stirring their cup of now lukewarm latte, Yuu pondered for a moment before pointing at Jack with a raised brow, “Hollandaise?”

Jack shrugged, shaking his head in disbelief, “Of course I’ve had hollandaise. Everyone’s had hollandaise!”

“I have never had fucking hollandaise; that shit was so far out of my tax bracket.”

“Hollandaise is just a fancy word for mayo.”

Yuu snorted, “I’ve been around Trey and Vil way too much to know for a fucking fact, hollandaise and mayo are different.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack huffed and took a sip of his own cup of coffee. He waves at Yuu, “Give me another one…”

“...” Yuu hums, tracing the edge of their cup before pointing at Jack again, “Charcucci?”

“...” Jack sneered, eyes glaring at Yuu’s all too pleased smile, “Charcuterie?”

“You aren’t beating my allegations on you being a snobby rich kid, Jack.”

“Actually knowing what things are called doesn’t make me a snobby rich kid.”

Yuu sips their latte, looking to the side and mumbles into the cup, “No, but skiing in the Shaft Alps every winter does…”

“Shut-” Jack’s ears flick as his phone starts to buzz. He quickly pulls it out, seeing who was calling before answering the phone on speaker, “Ortho?”

Yuu perks up, smiling and calling out, “Morning Ortho!”

“Good morning Prefect Yuu! And good morning to you, Jack Howl. I have an urgent request for you.”

Jack’s expression turns concerned, “What is it?”

“I need you to contact Ruggie Bucchi. I’m still unable to figure out how it happened, but select members of the junior class have been turned into what I estimate to be four-year-olds.”

“...” Jack blinked, looking to Yuu to make sure they heard the same thing as he did, “Why…do you need Ruggie-Senpai for that?”

“Well…I actually need to reach Leona Kingscholar, but his phone seems to be out of service…”

Yuu hums, looking around the kitchen for their own phone to make a few calls, “Yeah he does that when he sleeps, so his phone doesn't even think about ringing.”

“So I tried to call Ruggie Bucchi, but his phone isn't allowing my calls either!”

“Yeah, Ruggie blocked most of our numbers. He says ‘We know what we did’...” Yuu pulls a face at their phone, seeing their call to Lilia had gone to voicemail.

Jack sighed, “I'll call Ruggie-Senpai. Is…everyone okay? Who was turned?”

Ortho sighed from his side of the line, a beeping starting to sound in the background, “My brother for one, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit-”

“Vil!?”

Yuu cooed, sending one-word texts one after the other to Lilia, hoping the constant vibrating would alert the fae his phone demanded his attention, “Aw~. We should tell him his dad sold him to the school.”

“Fucking why- Ortho, I'll call Ruggie-Senpai and keep you posted.”

The beeping in the background suddenly grew to a blaring alert, though Ortho's voice remained chipper, “Thank you, Jack Howl! I must go now. I believe my brother has awakened and is attempting to hack the system in an effort to leave his room. Farewell for now!”

Once the line cut, Jack sighed and started to dial Ruggie. Noticing Yuu also on their phone he raised an eyebrow, “Who are you calling?”

Yuu was growing increasingly frustrated, Lilia wasn't answering his phone and their chain of texts clearly wasn't getting his attention. They'd try to call Malleus, but the horned fae barely remembered owning a phone, much less actually charging it properly; so it was more than likely dead in his side table drawer again.

“I'm trying to get in touch with Lilia since when Leona inevitably says ‘Fuck them kids’ we can get Malleus to help instead.”

“...Fair plan.” The phone finally stops ringing, Ruggie’s annoyed voice coming through the speaker, “Ruggie-Senpai! There's a strange occurrence happening among the third-years. Some of them have been turned into 4-year-olds and Ortho is asking for Leona's help.”

“...” Ruggie starts laughing, hiccuped cackling and choked snorts before he speaks, “Damn! You gotta be desperate if you guys are asking Leona to help with a bunch of kids. Who got turned?”

Jack sighs but feels mildly better hearing Ruggie moving on the other side of the line, “As far as I know Idia-Senpai, Trey-Senpai, Cater-Senpai, Rook-Senpai, and Vil-Senpai…That's all Ortho said.”

Yuu and Jack wait in silence, Ruggie going quiet over the line but starts muttering under his breath. Neither of them heard much past Ruggie repeating the names, double checking the date and noting how 'They had a meeting last night'. The two first years look at each other before Jack calls out, “Ruggie-Senpai? Is everything okay?”

The two freshmen wait with bated breath, listening to Ruggie suddenly swear and the sound of him running. A door is slammed open and Ruggie swears again, only louder, “Ruggie-Senpai!?”

“He's not FUCKING HERE! FUCK-”

The call cuts out, leaving Yuu and Jack in silence past the dial tone.

Yuu perks up, someone finally picking up their call, “Sebek? Yeah, hey, shut up. Yes, I did change my contact name on your phone to Malleus, that's not the important part right now. I need you…to check up on Lilia and Malleus; I think something…happened to them…”

Silver and Sebek walked briskly down the hall toward Malleus’s room. Lilia's had been empty, yet full of uncharacteristic traits. His computer seemed to have been on all night, the death screen of his game displayed over the monitor. The bed was empty, so he hadn't fallen asleep suddenly either. Sebek had suggested that Lilia went to check on Malleus in the night, falling asleep in his room instead.

Silver hummed, “Still, he didn't even pause his game…I'm just concerned…”

Scoffing, Sebek rolled his eyes, “There is nothing to worry yourself over! Lilia-Sama and Waka-Sama are the strongest mages on campus; there's nothing that could waver their-”

The sound of a piercing scream echoed in the hall, the voice painfully young and terrified as it trailed off into sobs.

The two guards sprinted, slamming the door open and blanking only for a moment at the scene before them.

Halfway up one of the banisters of the canopy bed was a horned child, a chubby black-scaled tail barely poking out from the bottom of a far too large sleep shirt. He cried and struggled to pull himself higher from the black mass of a hissing and jumping creature below him.

Their brief moment of hesitation faded and Sebek sprung forward to sweep who he could only conclude to be a de-aged Malleus away from the danger of the unknown beast. Silver quickly drew his wand in its sword form, trying to cast a stunning spell on the now skittering mass.

Sebek manages to pull the crying child into his arms, standing on the bed and looking him over, “Waka-Sama! Have you been harmed!?”

Malleus wailed, rubbing his eyes in an effort to clear his tears, “Baul! I woke up and this monster was here! I want grandmother!”

Oh, that was…Sebek wasn't sure if he was prepared for this. He looked over to Silver, hoping his sophomore had some insight into how to calm their liege.

Instead, he got to watch the second-year bob and weave around the bedroom, caught in a dance with the unknown creature as it continued to dodge his spells and new efforts to simply grab it. Luckily, the beast made a break for the window. Unable to properly launch itself out due to its size, it struggled on the ledge long enough for Silver to grab it by its small pale legs.

Silver held the still hissing creature upside down by the legs, the long hair falling away to reveal a hissing naked child with bright red eyes and tiny fangs.

“...” Sebek looked away, covering a sniffling Malleus's eyes, “Is that-”

“Oh lord, this is my father.” Silver tried to gently place the seemingly feral child on the ottoman, only to have Lilia grip onto his wrist and pull himself up to bite into Silver's arm, “Ow? OW, OW!”

Sebek watched in mild horror as Lilia's child form started to bite at any exposed skin on Silver, tiny fang marks left behind to slowly bleed as the sophomore struggled to restrain the child.

He feels a tug at his collar, looking in his arms at the sniffling fae princeling.

Malleus looked around the room with a cautious eye, seeming to realize this was not his bedroom in the castle, “Baul…where are we? Where's Lilia?”

“...” Sebek quickly pulled his phone out, heartbreakingly ignoring his liege’s tearful questions and redialing Yuu.

“Yo, Sebek, you called back quick. Can Malleus and Lilia help-”

“SOMETHING HAPPENED!”

[slut4thebroken]

Assorted characters x stalker!reader hcs

For some reason I’ve been obsessed with stalker!reader ideas. Like for any of my current hyperfixation crushes lol. So here are some unofficial head canons I guess

(Jason Todd, Jonathan Crane, Jackson Rippner, Spencer Reid, Stiles Stilinski, Bucky Barnes)

Jason Todd - You met him one day on the street. Some guy was being a dick and not taking no for an answer. When he started yelling, Jason intervened. And you’ve been in love with him ever since. You know that he obviously loves you too, that’s why he was so kind to you that day— that’s why he leaves his blinds open and let’s you watch him change after taking a shower. That’s why he was “careless” enough to let you find out his alter ego. Why else would he have trusted you so much to share that secret with you if he wasn’t in love with you too?

Jonathan Crane - Along the same lines as Jason. But you’re a student in his class. Everyday you sit in the front, your chin resting on your hand as you stare at him, mesmerized by his smooth voice and pretty face. You like the reaction you get when he makes eye contact and you don’t look away— he stumbles over his words and forces his gaze somewhere else while clearing his throat. His day to day life wasn’t particularly exciting, he spent most of his time on campus or at Arkham. But the one night he deviated from his usual schedule, you got all giddy and followed him eagerly. That’s how you found out your professor was the infamous Scarecrow. After learning that, you wondered if he’d ever want to test his fear toxin on you, leaving you a writhing mess for him.

Jackson Rippner - (I actually started a one shot with this plot lmao) You don’t know how a professional terrorist who stalks people for a living didn’t realize you were following him. It’s not like you’re very good at it. But you watched him watch other people, swooning when he became particularly violent on an assignment. You wondered how he’d react when he found out. Would he be flattered— impressed? Would he try to kill you? Or maybe— and this was your preferred option— he’d fuck you instead, making fun of you for being so desperate that you resorted to stalking him. He seemed like the kind of man who would enjoy degrading and humiliating you and you couldn’t wait for when that would finally happen.

Spencer Reid - Your genius professor with an IQ of 187 and three phds was entirely fascinating to you. You read anything and everything about him, including all of the cases he’s worked and any interviews he’s done. Once that wasn’t enough, you started following him around. He was so intriguing and captivating— the way he just ordered a coffee and handed the barista the money had you swooning. The first time you followed him, he had noticed you— made eye contact with you— so you made sure to be more careful. On days where he wasn’t teaching because he was away helping the BAU, you were incredibly bored and almost depressed. You missed seeing him every single day.

Stiles Stilinski - Stalking him was how you found out literally all of his friends secrets. You liked watching him talk animatedly to Scott from across the library, getting scolded by the librarian several times before being asked to leave. You liked watching him by himself, the way he fidgets with anything he can get his hands on and struggles to focus on whatever task he’s trying to complete, it’s endearing. What you didn’t like, however, was how he looks at Lydia. Every single time, you have to physical restrain yourself from walking over and bashing her head in, telling her to back the fuck off and leave him alone. Especially because she usually ends up making him sad. If he were with you, you’d always make him feel loved and appreciated. You wouldn’t act like some spoiled, airheaded tease (not the internalized misogyny lol).

Bucky Barnes - Stalking Bucky was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. He’s so in tune with his surroundings, knows when there’s a threat before anyone else does. He also knows when he’s being followed. So you resorted to casual stalking— going to the gym when he’s there, sitting in the living room when he’s there, arguing with Sam about what to watch, etc. You also liked watching him through the security cameras in the tower. It wasn’t as good as the real thing, but you could see the true, genuine Bucky. Not the Bucky he pretends to be around everyone else. This was the Bucky who likes romcoms, listens to music, does his best to cook, walks around in just sweatpants, not worrying about having to hide the gruesome scarring on his shoulder at the base of his metal arm— or any other scars for that matter. He has a lot of them and you ached to kiss every single one and tell him that you still think he’s incredibly handsome and pretty.

Part 2 with their reactions when they find out lol?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you don't have to answer this if you don't want to but what do you think about Yuu who alr knows Disney and is a bit of a better strategist than canon!Yuu? Like this Yuu would know from the first dream-vision they had that they mirror reality the next day and so whenever they wake up the next day after having these dreams and write down IMMEDIATELY about what happened and try to correlate it as much as they can to reality so they can strategize this way?? Added bonus if they know they're perceived as a weak, helpless magicless student and use it to their advantage so that others constantly underestimate them too!!

Well firstly, I think someone has most likely written this kind of fanfiction before. It’s pretty common to “novelize” the main story but specifically featuring one’s own Yuu variant and/or to do a “fix” or canon divergent story. Not my thing so I just skip over those, but I’m certain I’ve at least skimmed fic summaries of this nature.

Secondly, I don’t think it would make sense narratively (even for a more intelligent and proactive Yuu that has knowledge of Disney lore) to automatically suspect that their dreams correlate with real life events and that they should be alert for parallels. It’s assuming a lot of them, including that they’d have the hindsight before their first dream that their dreams are somehow prophetic. (I’m not counting time travel or time loop theory here, only what we know is canon right now.) That’s not really strategizing then, it’s jumping the gun and assuming that they’re a seer without enough cause to believe in it. Has this happened before to them in their original world? But dreams are rarely ever so closely associate with the things playing out 1:1 in the waking world. Why would Yuu develop this belief then??? I think they’d realistically start putting the pieces together maybe book 3 because 1 time (book 1) may just be coincidence + they wouldn’t be suspicious of anything, 2 times (book 2) is establishing a pattern, and then 3 times (book 3) would be enough times to firmly establish said pattern. It wouldn’t happen right off the bat.

I also feel like this kind of Yuu would not work for the current (canon) story TWST wants to tell. Having all of this information and/or going out of their way to prevent things from happening because of their foresight might just cascade into many events not playing out at all, even if only halfway through the main book. It means they’d be highly wary of many characters and could successfully avoid the pitfalls they glimpse in their dreams. They could seek out the “villains” of their dreams, deduce the issue, smooth things out sooner, prevent OBs altogether. Very, very different events might play out. (And if the main story manages to stay roughly the same in spite of all the measures this Yuu takes, then what was the point of telling it all with this intentional smarter and more actionable Yuu to begin with???) Diverging from canon happens all the time in fan creations, as I’ve said earlier—and again, there’s nothing wrong with this. I just don’t know of this would “work” with the current set up without deviating considerably at a certain point.

As for Yuu being perceived as a “weak, helpless magicless student” who “uses it to their advantage so others underestimate them too”… I feel like this is already done in canon, but very subtly and definitely relies a lot on player interpretation of what “kind” of Yuu they want to be. It’s already implied that Yuu is the strategist for battles, so they offer support in this way. Additionally, many characters recognize them for talents which lie beyond their magicless status. This includes the headmaster, who declares that Yuu has the makings of a beast tamer, and Rook, who gives Yuu the nickname “Trickster” for their cleverness. I believe that Yuu was even chosen to go for the harp in Beans Day because Jade was aware that the Monsters would underestimate Yuu and prioritize going after him, who is the more obvious threat. The world and its characters seem to constantly be telling us about Yuu’s strengths outside of a magical context, but they leave how Yuu actually makes use of their helplessness open ended for players to project as they like onto them.

It’d definitely be interesting to see a Yuu that leans into and plays up their weaknesses, but I also think that it would require a skilled writer to successfully pull that off. If not done well, the Yuu may come off as more whiny/desperate or too pompous and locked in their own self-aggrandizing head space. Maybe we’ll get a Yuu that strategizes with their deliberate helplessness in a future installment of the manga? Could be interesting!

[lillaluna]

tea

Pairing: Wriothesley x f!Reader

Tags: deviations from canon, dramma, hurt\comfort

Standing at a table with tea accessories, you brewed Wriothesley's favorite tea with precise and precise movements. Always at the right temperature, always with the right amount of different herbs, always with two tablespoons of sugar, which you bought at the market from the same seller, always on the second day of delivery.

You yourself asked Wriothesley to teach you how to make tea because you wanted to be able to do something special for your lover. A sad smile touched your lips when you remembered how scrupulously but patiently the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide taught you how to brew his favorite tea properly.

"Just start all over again," the blue-eyed man said with a deep sigh and pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes in what seemed to him hopelessness. "I just don't understand," you whined, throwing your head back to the ceiling and twisting your lips in a sad grimace. You were on the verge of crying, because it seems like you've been hanging around this tea table for ages, and this damn tea didn't turn out the way it should and Wriothesley detected it by the smell, standing behind your back! Hearing the sound that the duke's heavy boots made when walking behind you, after a moment, you felt two large palms on your shoulders, but despite this, this gesture was full of tenderness. Wriothesley gently rubbed your shoulders. "You will succeed," the man said, "I believe in you, you are a capable student, I know that," the Duke continued with a smirk in his voice. You smiled shyly, and tilted your head, offering your cheek for affection. Wriothesley immediately responded to this gesture by touching your soft cheek with two fingers. "Let me be a diligent student in something else," you murmured, rubbing your face against the tips of His Lordship's rough fingers. There was a soft barking laugh behind you. "Sly fox, this won't do," the guy abruptly took his hands off your shoulders, "pour it all out, let's start over". You moaned, but instead of pity, the Duke of Meropide slapped your ass with his big and strong palm as if encouraging you.

Emerging from your memories, you found that all this time you were standing with your eyes closed, clinging with all your might to His image, trying to keep in mind as many details as possible. Of course you remembered what kind of tea He liked. And this brewing of the drink became a tradition for you, with furtive kisses. You measured the portions, steeped them. Sounds, smells and ordinary movements became part of this ritual, which created an atmosphere of trust and intimacy. Every spoonful of tea was a reminder of Him, of His presence, of the love you shared.

"I learned," you said faintly and these words disappeared into the room, "I learned everything," you continued even more quietly, but the answer was only the silence of the walls of Meropide.

Tears were already coming to your eyes, but to cope with them, you sharply inhaled and took a cup of hot drink from the table, you went to your workplace.

His dark coat, with black fur, hung on the back of His chair. You sat in it as you placed the cup of tea on the table with shaky hands. As always, next to His favorite photo, although it was difficult to call it that. Wriothesley just cut out a picture from the newspaper, in which Charlotte captured you and the Duke at one of the Fontaine fairs. In the picture, you were laughing fervently, Wriothesley was hugging you around the waist, and you were gently holding your hat so that it would not fall off your head. You couldn't remember what amused you so much, it seemed like it was a million years ago, somewhere in a previous life.

The aroma of the tea mixture gradually filled the room, while you relaxed more and more. You knew that eventually the next tea would get cold, and you would pour it out so that you could brew a new portion with meticulous precision, as Wriothesley taught. After all, this ritual has become your way of experiencing grief and realisation.

You were a little startled when there was a knock on the door.

"May I come to you, Your Grace?" the guard asked, peering cautiously into your office.

You sat up straight in His chair, and lifted your chin proudly.

"Come in," you commanded in an icy tone, stealing a glance at the cup of tea.

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 3

Propaganda:

Gene -

"Has a special interest in film and almost works himself to death because he doesn't think his film is as perfect as he wants it to be. He completely botches a project on purpose, an action blockbuster, because he felt like it wasn't respecting the thing he loves the most."

Kei -

"It was the scene in which Makoto and Nao discover that he was able to stuff so many wild plants into his bookbag bc there was literally nothing in it that sold it for me. I can't put it into words. I just see that and I know. I know that boy is autistic."

Arthur -

"His powers are literally fueled by his special interest in knights and chivalry."

Euini -

"I relate a lot to his social anxiety, especially his performance anxiety that occurs when he's being watched by people, particularly due to his stress at needing to follow the plan/do things the "proper" way in order to not feel like he's a failure. he also stands like a lil autistic kid and i appreciate him so much for that.

(LIGHT SPOILERS) basically, he has a test that he needs to take in order to advance as a witch, and he keeps failing it because he cant perform properly while being watched by other people, even though he knows the "right" spells to use and why he's supposed to use them. on his third attempt of the test, he's prepared a "script" to use so that he can follow it and not worry about failing in the moment (in this case, his script is a hand-written book of the proper spells to use and the order in which he's supposed to use them), but when a part of the exam changes, he's no longer able to follow his script. because he's been taught all his life that there's only one proper way of doing things, his way of thinking is very rigid and he's not able to deviate from his plan without panicking. luckily, one of his fellow examinees (richeh from the autistic anime girls poll 💕) is able to convince him to try and change the way that he does things to something that is more attuned to his personal needs- basically change the way that he casts his spells and which spells to use so that he doesn't need to struggle with doing things in the way that everyone says that he should; the way that he cant seem to manage. but, even before richeh helped him with that though, he was still finding way to modify the "proper" spells a little bit to better suit his weaknesses. he was trying so hard to fit in to the mold that witch society gave him, but it just wasnt right for him and he was making it work however he could."

Westar -

"something something Westar's entire character is an anomaly amongst the other denizens of Labyrinth in that he's a big goofball in a world where everything is dictated to the extreme by its ruler. if that's not an autism metaphor of some kind I don't know what is."

Sousuke -

"Sousuke Sagara is an ex-child soldier turned teenage special ops who has to go undercover at a high school to discreetly bodyguard another student. The only problem is that he has no IDEA how to act like a "normal" teenager. Sure, you can say that a lot of his mannerisms come from the whole "raised as a child soldier" thing which, fair, you could make a decent case for (C)PTSD. However, he's also extremely serious and has notorious flat affect and does not understand when other people are joking at all. He's incredibly literal; there's several scenes where he misinterprets what someone says, like the time he asked the art teacher what a model was supposed to do and got a rambling flowery metaphorical response about "becoming one with nature" so he ran off to hide in the woods. Another thing, his social skills are… lackluster at best. He's very blunt, and also a terrible liar for an undercover agent, when the student in question confronted him his strategy was to repeat the same phrase over and over again. One time he's challenged to see if he can pick up any girls, and after a brief misunderstanding his "improved" flirting tactic was to jump in front of them and say "Hi! Would you like to know the names of defense agency spies?" Speaking of, Sousuke has an obvious special interest in the military tech and giant robots he works with. He reads their magazines for fun and was able to rattle off the specs for a model Russian tank. The first time he actually looks happy is when he accidentally starts infodumping in front of the class while introducing himself. One time he got distracted on a mission (and need I remind you, Sousuke takes his job VERY seriously) because he found someone who was also interested in the giant robots and got into a full-on conversation with them and completely forgot what he was doing. It is IMPOSSIBLE to read this boy as allistic. And sure, he might be a little stiff, but he's also very caring in his own awkward way. One time he gave a girl flowers as an apology gift…because they were poppies and he told the girl she could get rich by selling opium on the black market. The "picking up girls" challenge mentioned earlier ended with him helping a grandmother pick out a toy for her grandson. He agreed to pretend to be someone's boyfriend for a day (it went exactly how you'd expect, but it's the thought that counts). In conclusion: stan Sousuke Sagara. and vote for him too."

Katsuhira -

"His entire thing over the course of the entire show is that he doesn't feel pain or emotions like other people. He isn't 'interested in himself' or other people (low empathy) and doesn't realize that the things that happen to/because of him do effect other people, he doesn't realize when people have a crush on him or want to be friends, and all of this is stuff he kinda comes to realize as the show progresses. He struggles to care for himself physically because of the lack of physical and emotional input he experiences, and his friends canonically often cook for him and have to remind him to eat, and is a bit picky about what he eats. He cannot read social cues to save his life and is very blunt and honest when communicating with others, and doesn't talk with much tone or emotion in his voice."

John -

"Is very loud and passionate and says everything he thinks out loud, not understanding why others may see that as weird. Has difficulty controlling his volume, so he's almost always shouting."

Yuuri -

"So he models his entire life around the first celebrity he gets a crush on. He's takes up that celebrity's hobby, he gets the same kind of dog that his crush has, and he definitely has his bedroom wallpaper with his crush's face. But then, he actually meets his crush. And his crush likes him back. Naturally he panics over this and proceeds to deny it for months until his crush straight up kisses him. Then like a day later, he just, buys a ring and proposed to his crush on the spot. He's the guy ever. He's so socially awkward, yet somehow still incredibly cocky."

Yoshimori -

"Baking special interest but does Not Get math my beloved."

[bioticlaw]

Symbiosis

( yandere geto suguru x female reader )

It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. Dr. Geto becomes your lifeline.

content: yandere Geto, drug misuse & non-consensual drugging, dependency, past familial trauma, mental health issues, introspection, mentioned past overdose, medical malpractice. contains sensitive content. not a love story. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — 5.5k words

notes: please keep it mind that my intention is not to romanticise or glorify these experiences, it is a personal narrative, so it's based on my experiences and feelings at the time. otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story and please, be kind. <3

divider by cafekitsune | cross-posted on ao3

You coasted through your life.

You moved on autopilot, you never questioned or thought about anything, and you had a routine you followed without deviation. You’d been in a state like this for as long as you could remember. You used to wonder how it all began. You used to feel hurt as you were thrown into a deep spiral when you realised that the joyous child you were was now a puppet on its cruel maker’s strings.

You wished you could have saved her.

You knew it was illogical to think that way. You can’t change a story that has already been inked and carved into permanence. Still, it didn’t stop your mind from wandering. Sometimes you’d think of what would’ve been if you could go back in time and save her from her father. If you could have escaped from your captor who saw you as collateral and not his child. Your grandmother used to believe that men were meant to lead and protect their families, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Was it protecting you when he’d forbidden you from reaching out to the outside world?

Was it protecting you when he’d lock you in his room, away from anything you could use to call for help?

You liked to insist that you didn’t care anymore. Maybe you were a liar. You’d been dishonest far too often in your life, after all. Maybe, in a fucked up spin on the story of Narcissus and his reflection, you fell for your own tricks. You liked to believe you didn’t care, but sometimes, you’d find yourself feeling like that child again—alone and afraid as he gave more love to his stepchildren than you.

You might not have known anything at six years old. He was still your father. But as much as you loved him, you needed to break out of the chains he placed on your life. When he fell asleep from all the drinking he did, you took your chance. Called the number you weren’t allowed to call, decided on where to meet her the next day. Pretended like everything was normal when he woke up. Your mother took you back to your real home from school, and just like that, you were finally free. He cared too much about his public image to start a fight in public. It was the luckiest you had ever been.

You ended up forgetting about it all. You were happy. You were home. You might have spent more time with another relative because your mother was always busy, but you were loved. You felt loved. At least, that was how you remembered it. You weren’t quite sure if your memory was truly failing or if passivity had just been present for all your life. Your memories were in vignettes, burnt and broken, a film reel that was cut and couldn’t be put together. You’d given up on trying to remember. You were fine with leaving yourself in the dark and you were fine with being oblivious. You wouldn’t know if your memories were real, but it didn’t matter anymore.

High school was a blur. You fell asleep, skipped class, and still managed to stay one of your class’ best students despite it all. It was all you could do, anyway. It was just another obstacle you had to get over. As soon as you left the graduation ceremony, you left everyone behind with your memories. The teachers, the staff, your ‘friends.’ You didn’t know them that well. You hadn’t been all too honest with them, just like you weren’t honest with your doctor. The pills he gave you helped—you knew they did. For once, you felt like you were back on earth. You needed the feeling to stay with you. You needed to feel alive, to be alive again.

You liked the moment of bliss you’d get when you came to, so much so that you’d taken it all to die with a smile, but death never came.

Instead, the white light you saw was from the fluorescence of the ceiling, and the angelic choir you wanted to hear was instead the slow beeps of your heart rate on the monitor. What the doctors were talking about over your half-unconscious form didn’t feel like words but nonsense. You couldn’t remember what the nurse said to you, either. All you knew was that in your trance, the state where you teetered on the line between life and death, you saw shadows in that hospital. You saw the ghost of your grandmother in the corner, watching as charcoal flowed down your throat and into your stomach. You felt your father’s indifferent gaze, the same one he had when you drifted too far from shore at the beach.

You heard your mother crying, felt her guilt as she went through the whirlwind you had inadvertently put her in. It was perhaps your biggest regret of all; not the taking of your happy pills, but letting her shed tears over you. Your grandmother used to tell you this was the greatest sin you could ever commit. That scared you enough to force yourself to be better. To be as normal as you could be, as normal as your mother would want you to be. You didn’t want her to cry anymore.

But strength was never your best suit.

Your regret turned into something worse—anger that you let them take your salvation away from you. You weren’t always an angry person. It was hard to get on your nerves that much, you thought. You’d like to think you were carefree (or careless?) and resilient, but the craving in your system and the need to feel something again was all you could think of. You wanted your control back.

You had to get it back. Now that you were on your own, thousands of miles away from home, you had more autonomy to do as you liked. There were no vigilant eyes on you, no more obstacles to overcome, and no more people you had to lie to.

Tempted as you were to resort to such tactics again, you did initially come to the medical centre for a harmless reason. You were running low, and going through another withdrawal episode wasn’t something you were particularly thrilled about. You only wanted—needed—to keep yourself functioning; this was just part of the conditions that came with it. You hated dealing with these things for too long, so begrudgingly, you booked an appointment just to get it over with. Then you could go back to whatever your life was this time.

That feeling of emptiness would continue to persist, fading from one day to another, but you would live. It wasn’t anything worth celebrating. It was just a duty you gave yourself. Even if you didn’t want to, you had to.

Your leg bounced up and down as you sat in the waiting room, idly watching the second hand of the clock tick little by little. It was quiet and surprisingly not too crowded like you assumed when you looked at the appointment times. Other students you didn’t recognise scrolled through their phones, waiting for their names to be called just like you were. You sighed into your face mask. You were bored out of your mind and nothing on your phone could fix that. You’d still zone out anyway.

You glanced down at the paper in your hand. The letters seemed to burn themselves into your eyes the more you read them. You didn’t have to print the appointment details, but you valued your routine and habits no matter how mundane they were. You liked doing things in order. It kept you sane, you thought.

You didn’t quite recognise the name Dr. Suguru Geto. You were to meet them in—you took a glance back at the clock—2 minutes but you were dreading it more than anything. It would be your first time meeting them and if things went well, they’d be someone you see regularly. Apprehension and annoyance simmered at the pit of your stomach. Sudden changes were something you hated, even more so the fact that you had to tell a stranger your history all over again. Suffocated couldn’t possibly be the only word to describe how you felt about it. It was their job to know and help you, you knew that, but you still hated having to muster up the words to talk about how you were mentally and physically.

You didn’t like how vulnerable and paranoid you felt every time you sat in a doctor’s office. Anyone could use your weaknesses against you at any moment. Walking on eggshells around everyone had become second nature to you, irritatingly. It wasn’t as if you wanted to; it was more of a reflex, an instinct. You learnt to hide behind a character you built for yourself and grew used to it. To break that down and expose yourself again wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Your name was called. “Dr. Geto is ready to see you now. Please follow me.”

The nurse’s heels clicked against the polished floors and the low buzz of the air conditioning was all that accompanied you as you followed her down the hall. Even the air was dreary, and the anxiousness you were feeling only seemed to grow as you got closer to the doctor’s office. It was colder at the end of the hallway where you stood. The nurse gently opened the sliding door, catching the doctor’s attention with a soft lilt of their name.

“Thank you,” you muttered and shuffled past her, tentatively making your way to the chair that was across Dr. Geto’s desk. As the door slid shut, the doctor greeted you, his voice far too jovial for a situation that could be the worst thing to deal with.

“Good morning,” he said. “How can I help you today?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling oddly more uncomfortable under his gaze. “I need a new written prescription. The one I brought from home doesn’t work here.”

“Ah, you’re a foreign student?” He scanned over the paper you handed him, a low hum vibrating in the back of his throat. His lips tugged into a frown. “I don’t think we have this variation in our pharmacy. I’d have to prescribe you a different one entirely.”

“W-What do you mean?” The words came out of you before you could think. “It’s pretty common, isn’t it? I could just buy it from pharmacies at home. What do you mean you don’t have that here?”

Geto raised his eyebrows. It was only then did it occur that you’d spoken too much and might’ve just attracted some suspicion as to why you were here. You pretended not to see how his expression changed, staring down at the floor instead.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine. I understand your worries,” he replied, eyes crinkling as he smiled once again. “How do you feel about starting a different one?”

“But…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t like how it felt being watched by him. It was like you were getting reprimanded for something, even if there was nothing in his visage that implied that at all.

“It won’t be that different. I can prescribe you something with a similar composition,” Dr. Geto explained. The way he spoke was soft and calm. It didn’t take too long for that to affect you, making the tension in your shoulders lift away and your fists unclench. “I assume you know enough about drugs, don’t you?”

You weren’t here for that reason. You just really needed a refill, you weren’t falling back, you weren’t—

“Yeah. Just enough,” you replied hesitantly. “I’ve been seeing psychiatrists and doctors for years, so I just picked it up from them. And I read a lot, so…”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The answer seemed to placate the doctor enough for him to lean back and scribble something down on a piece of paper. The sound of the pen scratching against the surface felt more grating than usual. You thought it was all done, that he’d give you that damn paper and you could leave. But then he crossed his arms over his chest and stared you down, and you realised that wasn’t the case at all. Why was he holding this back from you? Why wasn’t he helping you? All he had to do was click a few buttons, hit print and send you on your way. Why wasn’t he doing any of it?

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything.”

“I have been telling you everything,” you argued, exasperated and flustered. You didn’t understand why he was being so pointed at you. You didn’t remember exactly what you just said to him either. It had always been that way. “Doctor, I just don’t want to go through withdrawals again. That’s it.”

He didn’t seem convinced. What made him change his mind so quickly?

“I want to help you,” he said, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “I can’t do that if you don’t help me, too.”

You didn’t like the way he was speaking to you. It reminded you of being back at that wooden house, hiding behind the door as you anticipated when your father’s patience would burst. You shook your head, trying to clear the thought away.

“I… would like it if we could wrap this up soon. I have another appointment in half an hour,” you lied, hoping it would strike some urgency in him and that he would just hurry up. “I’m already running late. I need to be on my way.”

Dr. Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding my request.”

“I-I’m not!” you stammered. “Please, doctor, I only have two days left on that bottle. I’ll take whatever it was called that you talked about. I’ve always responded well to medication, it won’t be a danger to me.”

He didn’t respond, only continued to watch you as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk. The sound was overloading your senses—you felt cornered, you could hear the blood rush in your ears, you could hear ringing, and the taps of his fingers were making it worse.

Hunching over, dejected, you relented. “I was never really told what was wrong with me. They just gave me antidepressants and I never saw the psychiatrist again.”

“You said you met several, no?”

Did you?

“I won’t make assumptions about you,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can trust you with a month’s worth of pills. I’ll only give you a week’s worth of them, then we’ll have a follow-up next Saturday to see how you feel. ”

“I don’t know… Changing medications is scary.”

You cringed at how the confession came out of you so easily. Sometimes it felt like your mind and your body weren’t in tune with each other. There was a gap between the two and you could never manage to get it to close.

Suddenly, the stern demeanour melted away and the friendly doctor was back. His brows were no longer furrowed. His face relaxed as he leaned back against the chair and smiled at you.

“It’s only a bit stronger than what you used to take. There shouldn’t be a drastic change.” The printer whirred to life as it ejected a small piece of paper with words you didn’t really recognise on it. Medical jargon was one of the things you could never memorise well. “Alright. Come, I’ll lead you to the pharmacy.”

You blinked. “You don’t have other appointments?”

“We’re understaffed. It’s only me and two other colleagues working here.”

It didn’t answer your question, but the hope blooming in your chest took your mind off of it. You could finally leave this creepy clinic—well, you were exaggerating, you thought. The clinic was actually well-maintained and populated, but there was just something that felt a little off about this place. You decided you’d blame it on your nerves.

“Please wait here.”

You watched him move between the shelves with an air of familiarity and grace as he murmured something you couldn’t hear. He came back with a small pouch that was labelled with your name and the general details (you knew the gist, you’d done this for years) and placed it on the counter between him and you.

“Like I said, this is a bit stronger than what you used to take, so I want you to start by taking half a pill every morning first.” The pills didn’t look anything out of the ordinary. It was a small, standard white tablet with a line etched in the middle for easier splitting. You gingerly tucked it into your bag, instead rummaging through the mess to look for your wallet. Before you could take out a bill or two, he stopped you. “The university has that covered, remember?”

You blinked. “Oh, right. Yes. Thank you.”

“Come see me if you have a bad reaction to it.” He gave you another friendly smile. It was starting to grow on you. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. You had a knack for being a bit paranoid, after all. It was just one of those days. You felt a bit bad for judging him so harshly before you even properly spoke to him. “That’s all. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

There was a sense of discomfort nagging you in the back of your mind, but you shook it off. You were prone to overthinking things; this was just one of them. Relieved, you thanked him again and left the clinic. The weather was nice today and you didn’t have overdue assignments. You could recharge for as long as you wanted to.

While you knew not to underestimate these little things, you also weren’t sure how effective taking only half of the pill would be. It wasn’t the first time being on a dosage that would gradually increase, but you were still guilty of constantly worrying if something would work out. You didn’t think you had anything left to turn to if it didn’t.

You’d just have to take Dr. Geto’s word for it.

—

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care. Something like that was simply not on the forefront of your mind. You were more than accustomed to being in a perpetual state of lethargy. You didn’t think you ever had a time in your life when you weren’t tired. Despite that, you felt the changes in your behaviour and demeanour. It was hard not to.

In the first half of the week, you felt sluggish and ill, as if your immune system decided to go haywire with the hormones in your brain, but you quickly recovered. It was nothing a little caffeine couldn’t fix (or worsen, but you didn’t want to think about it). He wasn’t lying when he said the medicine was stronger. The side effects weren’t as bad as you assumed they’d be, which you were glad about. Your appetite died down a little, but that was fine. You didn’t eat regularly anyway. As the days passed, you felt less anxious. It was somewhat easier to concentrate and follow along with your professors, even if you remained easily distracted.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing, but you weren’t one to shy away from your impulses, either. A thought popped into your mind. If you could take only half of the pill well, surely it would be fine to take another for a minor boost? You had a presentation later in the afternoon. Embarrassing yourself in front of the whole class was not an option. Your mother was working overtime to keep you in this position. You couldn’t fail her.

But as you picked up the blister pack, you found that it was empty.

“What?” you breathed. He prescribed you enough for seven days. Where was the last one? Had you accidentally double-dosed without knowing it? You wouldn’t put it past yourself to do something like that. The presentation slipped out of your mind entirely as you seemed to move purely on instinct, tugging the drawers open to also find nothing. When you crouched, you couldn’t find anything under the bed. There wasn’t anything in your luggage. Not even the closet where you’d habitually keep your pills hidden.

Your breathing was getting faster. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, overwhelming you in white noise as you paced back and forth, shaky sobs leaving your lips as you clutched your hair in a firm grip. Just where was it?

Did Dr. Geto forget to give you enough?

No. It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. It made no sense why he would screw you over like this. This was on you, you thought. You were responsible for keeping them and taking them per instruction. A doctor wouldn’t make a mistake like this. Dr. Geto wouldn’t make a mistake like this.

Your nails dug into your palms as a broken wail escaped you. You needed it. You had an important class later, it was almost exam season—you needed to do well. Your eyes scanned the room once again. Your old ones had already run out; the new pills were your only option, but both of them were gone.

You cursed and harshly wiped away your tears with your sleeve. You were going to be late. You’d just have to run to the clinic as soon as your next class ended. That’s right, you echoed in your head, nodding frantically. That was all you had to do. You could do this, you could. This has happened before. You just needed to try to keep yourself together.

“I can do this,” you repeated to yourself. “I can. I can.”

Tugging your hood over your head, you grabbed your bag and hurried your way to class, trying to ignore the dull ache at your temples. You could take a painkiller later. For now, there was no time—you had to go.

Your breathing was going back to normal by the time you stepped inside the room with a couple of minutes left to spare. Though you weren’t the only one late, humiliation still washed over you. It felt like an omen. You somehow lost or accidentally double-dosed on your pills, you arrived past your self-designated time, and all eyes were on you. Things were all going downhill from here, you just knew it.

You meekly shuffled to the back of the class instead of taking a seat at your usual spot. Maybe the professor would be less likely to call on you that way. The student beside you smiled in greeting and moved his bag for you. You didn’t know his name, but he was nothing but friendly to you the whole semester. It was embarrassing, being in front of someone who recognised you while in such a pitiful state, but there was nothing you could do.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. His brows furrowed, brown eyes looking at you in concern. “You wanna go to the infirmary? I mean, Fushiguro’s great at taking notes, we can just copy from him.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just overslept.”

Thankfully, he seemed to buy it.

“Oh man, I totally get you. I actually ran here a bit before you did.” He patted your back, the action more awkward than it was comforting. Before he went back to chatting with his friends, he smiled at you. “Glad you’re okay.”

You returned the gesture. Though it didn’t quite reach your ears, he didn’t seem to notice or mind it that much. Luckily enough, the conversation ended there. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The last thing you needed was for anyone to see you in a state like this. It was better to stop it as soon as it happened.

“Today we’ll talk about transference…”

The voice of your professor eventually became muffled as the ringing in your ears grew louder. The headache was getting harder to ignore and you felt cold, your hands trembling under the desk as your mouth felt like it had just dried up. The world seemed like it was spinning and fading into a blur, and you swore you could hear the boy next to you call out in concern, but you felt heavy like you were falling—

You collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, raising gasps all around you as the boy next to you froze for a moment. You traversed between the light and the dark, barely registering the voices speaking over your weary body.

“—you’re the strongest out of all of us, Yuji, carry her!”

“Shit, yeah, okay—”

“—her friends? Take her to the doctor.”

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands loosely gripping the front of his shirt as he carried you in his arms, swiftly making his way across the campus. Tears sprung to your eyes as you blubbered, latching on to him to help keep you grounded. Nothing else was registering in your mind, only the cold and tremors that got worse the more you cried.

As your sniffles quietened down, you heard a familiar voice—the doctor—talking about something with someone while you felt yourself sink into a soft surface. Queasiness held you in its grasp, left your stomach churning. It dragged you deeper and deeper, distracting you from the sharp prick in the back of your hand before you fell into nothingness.

—

The fluorescent white light was unkind to your vision as you slowly blinked awake.

You felt… strange. Like you were floating. Like you weren’t in your own body. You felt weary, incredibly so, that just forcing yourself to sit up felt impossible. The world was coming back to clarity the longer you kept your eyes open. You were no longer in the lecture hall but in a doctor’s office. Your seatmate must have carried you here, you thought. You parted your lips to speak, tried to call out for anyone, but your voice wouldn’t come out.

You fell back against the pillow, your eyelids fluttering closed again. It wasn’t until the door slid open did you finally feel more alert, bottom lip quivering the moment Dr. Geto stepped in. How could he still smile at you after what you’d done? After you broke his trust?

He took a seat next to the bed you were on. You whimpered out his name, blindly reaching for him with what energy left you could muster. You wanted to apologise, to try to explain yourself, but instead—

“You didn’t give me enough,” you whispered, the rest of your words dissolving into soft and incoherent whines. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do or how you were supposed to feel. Anger? Regret? Ironically, emotions seemed like the least of your worries when he was right next to you. You stared at him, your eyes glazing over with tears. “‘m sorry.”

You barely felt a warm hand clasped on top of yours as he sighed deeply, taking a glance at the heart monitor by his side.

“It was my mistake,” he said. You shook your head weakly, a quiet no leaving your lips. “I’ve failed you as your doctor.”

“No,” you repeated in what you hoped was a more assertive tone. It felt useless to wish for something like that. Maybe you should just stop thinking overall and let whatever this was play out on its own. You were so tired, but slumber was falling out of your hands and replaced by a burden upon your shoulders, guilt. “No, doctor…”

You wanted to tell him it was your fault. That this was just another lapse of memory, just like the last time and the time before that. There was a sense of fear clouding your mind, a flash of a warning that disappeared as fast as it came. You felt like there was something you should tell him or even ask him, but you couldn’t think of what it was.

“You’ll be alright now,” Dr. Geto reassured you. “How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t answer.

Just why were you nervous? There was nothing wrong here. He took care of you while you were unconscious, made sure you’d survive. You mumbled something under your breath, tears building up at the corners of your eyes the more you tried to speak. Bringing your hands up to your face, you shake your head again, this time allowing yourself to cry freely.

He softly shushed you, gingerly urging you to look at him. You let out a choked sob as he pried your hands off your face, saying your name in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“You’re okay now,” he said, “Don’t cry.”

You weren’t sure how long he comforted you. All you could do was cry and cry until there was nothing left, until all your sobs became sniffles and exhaustion crawled into your bones, finding a home in your being. A rustle of fabric and you were being lifted in his arms, your head dropping as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I’m cold,” you exhaled shakily, nestling closer to him in an instinctive search for warmth and comfort. “I wanna go home.”

You couldn’t hear what he said as you succumbed to fatigue, further and further away until you came to again. You’re not in the clinic this time but in someone else’s room on a softer, warmer bed. The haze you’re trapped in overpowers the warning alarms in your head, replacing them with a sense of longing for the doctor who’s been taking care of you so well. Your wish is granted as the mattress dips with someone’s weight. Dr. Geto sits at the side, gently clasping his hand over your thigh as he says your name, soft as the wind.

“I don’t…” you trail off. What were you going to ask him? Were you just anxious that he was gone? “Something… Something’s wrong.”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I don’t know.”

You turn on your side, bringing your legs to your chest as you curl deeper into the blankets. You glance up at him. He’s not wearing his doctor’s coat anymore. Is he going somewhere?

He gently brushes stray hairs off your face before cupping the side of your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. When did you start crying? You don’t know why you still feel so tired, or why you keep forgetting things the moment you think of them. But maybe you don’t have to know. Maybe you just need to trust him and just fall.

There isn’t any strength left in your system. Briefly, you’re reminded of how this is just like when you were in the emergency room years ago, alone and confused and helpless. Still, you force yourself up and crawl to him before resting your head on his lap. Like he’s in tune with you, his fingers card through your hair, comforting and familiar. You don’t think you’ve felt that in years.

You’re in a daze and you’re starting to enjoy how it felt. You don’t have to think anymore. Don’t have to worry, don’t have to feel afraid. Still, you can’t help but call for him again, as if you were worried he’d disappear if you stopped looking at him.

“Doctor…”

“Suguru.”

“Suguru,” you echo. Something feels wrong. He’s your doctor. This isn’t the hospital or the clinic. You should get up and run, get away as far as you can, but it feels so good to be held by him. Your mother used to do the same thing until you fell asleep and got lost in a dream. Dr. Geto—no, Suguru—is warm. He loves you. He cares for you.

You don’t want it to end.

“I can’t do this without you.”

You stare into space, completely missing his smirk as he coos in reply, voice sweet like honey, “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

He urges you to sit up properly before handing you two pills and a glass of water, comfortingly patting the top of your head when you take them from him. Your body moves on its own, far too used to this routine—take the pills, take a sip, swallow. Your limbs feel like jelly as you slump against him, resting your head on his chest. Strong arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you close to a steady heartbeat.

Soft whines and whimpers leave your lips without you realising it. He’s so warm, a stark difference to how cold his office is, and the longer he holds you, the more you feel like you’re drifting away, sinking deeper, deeper…

“I do.”

And you let yourself fall into the ocean’s depths.

[alekthefox]

Which Domino Falls First?

Golden Ratio/Aventio/Ratiorine/Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, they both need a hug, past trauma(Aventurine), insecure Ratio (trust me), pining, resolved emotional anguish (not completely gone, that takes time to heal), Post-Penacony, suicidal Aventurine, Ratio SIMPING SO HARD, author is crying.

Aventurine awoke, alive. Anyone else would call it a miracle. Aventurine would call it a last minute choice. The note from the good doctor... It made his mind spin in spirographs. Ave was aware of the "mutual respect" they had, and Ratio never strayed from the rocky road Aventurine paved for them all. Yet this simple, short note had given him... "hope" if he can call it that. It was difficult to believe the kindness. Not because the good doctor is incapable of it, far from the truth, but simply due to the fact that the message was aimed at Aventurine.

He emerged from the dream pool, hearing commotion out in the halls. Yet he stood over the doctor's advice, eyes tracing each word, trying to decipher the meaning. It didn't make sense in the slightest. The first part about Death and Dormancy did, unsurprising that his doctor-- his? No. It was unsurprising that the doctor figured it out. Maybe he knew from the start, just how Ave knew death wasn't real in the beautiful dream. Dr. Ratio would never solve an equation for a student of his, he'd give guidance. The second part however... It was so sincere it hurt. In a moment of impulse he felt the need to destroy it. Yet he didn't. Still, he wasn't going to fall for the bait. Aventurine is an investment, a tool, not a person someone could care for. If someone, even the doctor, would make that mistake... Aventurine would let them have a taste but no more. Just enough to satisfy them, just a little bit of honey in their tea. Once that itch is scratched people often move on.

Aventurine's flirting wouldn't be out of character by any means, however now it wouldn't be for fun and the act... Now it would be a shield meant to crack slightly before shoving the... 'friend' away.

Veritas waited, pacing the room. He did everything as he was told, however much it pained him to see that damned gambler tear himself apart. And, oh Aeons, did it hurt. He shunned himself with every clouded thought. The gambler would never settle for him. Him, a man who cannot grasp the one goal he has. He is no genius. Despite the hard work, the Aeon didn't spare him a glance. Why should Aventurine? The gambler needed someone who could steer him away from the danger and Veritas had failed time and time again. He could have deviated, however that would either doom the gambler or... knowing him, anyways go to his advantage. Aventurine's mind was vast despite the lack of proper education, and by no means a void. It was frustrating, it was beautiful. No matter what Ratio did he would have seen it coming, surely. "Luck" he called it. Yet another lie. No, not a lie... a careful misdirection.

His act was nearly flawless. The way he seemed deeply hurt at the 'betrayal', how he toyed with Sunday and everyone else... Aventurine wasn't a player, no, he was the game master. The players had input, yes, but Aventurine was dictating the pace, secrets, clues, the when and the where.

Nearly flawless. The only thing the gambler didn't take into account was Veritas being aware of the hurt behind his confidence. Yes, he was told the plan, but even as it was explained to him Aventurine was acting. A never-ending layer after layer of masks. But Veritas saw through it all. Aventurine was scared. Terrified even. He longed for that death yet never managed to fail at fleeing from it. But it wasn't just fear behind those pretty eyes. It was resentment for himself and others, it was vengeful, hurt. Veritas understood all of those far too well. Yet he couldn't resent himself for... wanting to hold him. Though that would never happen in honesty. It was clear. If Ratio were to pursue him, Ave would allow it and think of him as nothing more than another person who wants to use him. Yet he longs for those eyes to look at him with anything but faux emotions.

"Doctor~"

Ratio stopped his pacing and turned abruptly, looking him over where he stood in the doorframe. A peculiar sight it was. Ratio was extremely relieved and glad, but one thing struck him as odd. Aventurine didn't walk into the room fully and close the door. He used the public's eye as a shield. Therefore the doctor didn't dare approach him.

"You survived afterall."

"All thanks to my friends, including you, dear doctor."

The tone of his voice was the same as always. Ratio prayed to every Aeon that perhaps this Penacony situation might change him even in the slightest for the better. Once he saw he'd learned nothing, but still felt those eyes draw him in, that is when he hated both of them. Mostly himself. Aventurine was a victim afterall, a willing victim, but one nevertheless. He couldn't blame him as much. It was still disappointing.

"Doctor, don't tell me you didn't bet on me! Your face seems displeased. I thought you'd be happy to see me~"

Now he didn't understand him. After everything, he hadn't learned... although change takes time. Another thing didn't make sense. He turned his head away, eyes unfocusing. Why did Aventurine come find him in the first place? What did he want now that the job was done? Did the note actually have an effect on him? And if so why is he playing the same role as before?

"Ratio, are you alright?"

His head turned at an incredible speed, eyes wide. Ratio knew he was silent in thought for too long, as he does when solving a particularly difficult problem, but for the gambler to sound so raw and even use anything other than 'doctor'...

"Yes. I assume you read my advice."

"It was quite helpful indeed! I knew I could count on you, Doc. But don't let it get to your head~"

And there it was again.

"Will you stop that? It's infuriating."

"What ever could you mean?"

"Do you really take me for a fool?"

It hurt deep inside his chest, just like failing a student for the first time. Ratio was ruthless with his grading yet always hoped it would push the student to try harder. It was only fair to offer the gambler the same treatment.

Aventurine couldn't believe his own blunder. He was not one to make such a significant mistake. 'Ratio, are you alright?' So incredibly idiotic. His walls were built anew. Who was to fall first?

"Well~" Aventurine swallowed the unease and took a step in, closing the door without turning his back to him as if Veritas would pounce the moment he did.

"Well what?"

"I know what you want from me, doctor~ It was obvious from the very start. I waited patiently for you. Don't I deserve a reward?"

"And what is it you think I want from you?"

Aventurine swallowed hard as he approached him and placed a hand on his chest. He didn't expect his wrist to be grabbed and yanked to the side. Did he misunderstand? No, surely not. Ave got closer still, looking up at him, flashing his eyes.

"Don't you want to thoroughly examine the sweetness of the last avgin? Isn't it tempting?"

"Your hypothesis is incorrect, zero points."

"You grade me before I've tested it? It hurts~"

Ratio sighed in frustration, trying not to yell some sense into him.

"No, you know what truly hurts? Watching you strap bombs to yourself and eagerly walking alone, waiting to be blown apart."

"So you do care~"

"More than rationally reasonable."

That's it. Veritas fell first, setting off the entire line of dominos. But Aventurine was never in that line, he was the hand to push him. Ave watched the fury in his eyes. How delightful. If he can make the doctor hate him, that will be an easier victory. Before Aventurine could answer Ratio continued.

"I am fully aware you do not want me so spare us both the trouble. Either you will be honest with me or you will walk out and close that door," they both know Veritas would leave it slightly ajar, "and the choice is yours alone."

Despite the disgust in his gut, he did want him. That feeling was out of anxiety that Ratio will be just like everyone else. Aventurine didn't drop his faux happy before getting on his toes to kiss him. But Veritas let go of his wrist and took a single step back. Ave barely managed not to stumble. Ratio couldn't hide his irritation.

"I will not allow you to make a fool of me any longer. Make your choice, gambler. Leave and continue playing games... or stay and fold."

Aventurine thought he understood at least slightly. Now though Ratio's grading was deserved. What did he want then? He laid down an all-or-nothing bet, showing all of his cards, but what he wanted Aventurine to bet in return was unknown to him.

"You want honesty? That's all? You're a terrible businessman."

"I already know your past, for the record. What I want to know is who you really are, not who you used to be or pretend to be. Your mind is on the level of a genius. Something I cannot achieve or even begin to translate."

The praises didn't feel empty. Why? Flattery never affected him. They were always hollow words, sweet nothings. Veritas was far too honest. His shield cracked slightly and now was the time to push him away. He couldn't. Why? Why couldn't he?

"Who are you?"

"A hopeless man."

Hopeless. That is something they shared until recently. Until the reverse suicide note written for him.

"And what if I'm honest and you hate me?"

"I doubt that's a possibility."

"But you do not deny it."

"I don't fear the unknown, I long for it."

Kakavasha bit his lip, bruising it. Not in an attractive, playful way. It was to remind himself this wasn't a fabricated dream bubble. He longs to know him? Not to touch him, not to be touched, not to use him? How could anyone want that?

Now that Kakavasha missed the opening to push him away that would not shatter himself... he let the tears flow. The bitter tears that he's held in his entire life. He covered his mouth and crumbled to the ground, choking on sobs. He didn't know what to expect but all the same Veritas' arms hovering around him, asking for permission wordlessly... they terrified him. Kakavasha was the one to pounce, throwing himself into the good doctor's arms, the good doctor. Those arms made him feel more safe than his Aeon's shield ever did. He couldn't believe himself. His hands clutched at whatever fabric he could reach.

Veritas held him firmly. Ave may be hurt, but he was not fragile. He wasn't a flower wilting. He was a grand temple of Preservation, enduring more than many could, standing tall despite the cracks. So many years he stood, a pillar of endurance. And even so near the ground, seeking comfort desperately, he was still standing.

He learned.

Kakavasha didn't stop sobbing until he passed out in his arms, tears staining Veritas' clothes. He carried him into the bed, Ratio's bed, and walked away. Or rather he would have until he hear that pained, soft voice.

"Don't leave me, please, Veritas."

Ratio had no doubts in his mind. He held Kakavasha, both in the same bed, no intentions from either of anything sinful. Unless holding each other was sinful. Then they both were to suffer together.

Curssed be the Aeon who rejected him, for someone higher than THEM had chosen him. If Veritas could have taught Kakavasha that he can be cared for, that he is not unwanted... that would make all his efforts worth the torment. The tossing and turning. The sleepless studies. Everything. Because he saved a life and he improved it. If only slightly. Yet Veritas doesn't expect a PhD, a reward, compensation. Simply the fact that Kakavasha could continue on with these facts is enough. And if those eyes ever look at him with honesty, whatever the emotion, it would feed his starving heart. He is willing to wait a lifetime even if it never comes.

Veritas was fully aware that this wasn't all that Kakavasha was. He wasn't just a victim, just hurt, just his past. He looked forwards to witnessing all of him if he would allow it.

As Veritas felt Kakavasha's breath stabilise and slow, his tense body relax in his arms... His mind was clear.

[linkemon]

Kyōken (Kyōtani Kentarō x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴀᴛ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ, ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴍᴀᴋᴇʀ…

— [Reader]-chaaan! — A loud, sweet voice came from the end of the corridor. — Here you are.

— Good morning, Oikawa-senpai.

The girl was honestly surprised. The king of the school was usually surrounded by his fan club. This time, he came alone. Moreover, they didn't know each other very well. Third graders rarely had any contact with the lower grades outside of club activities.

— You have to come to our match — he blurted out.

This made her even more surprised. She didn't know how to get out of the situation. In theory, senpais were not to be refused. However, she had heard about the flirt's exploits and had no desire to get involved with his fans. Every suspicion meant jealous glances. It could also lead to later unpleasantness.

— But I don't like volleyball — she cleared her throat nervously.

— You've already been to our... AAAAAH — Oikawa howled.

[Reader] recognized the person who hit him in the head. It was his teammate, Iwaizumi.

— Are you bothering kouhais again, Shittykawa? — He pulled him by the ear.

— It's not like that, Iwa-chan — he sobbed as if on cue.

The girl wondered how tears could be summoned so quickly. She had no doubt that Aobajohsai Captain was a master in this matter.

— I just wanted Kyōken-chan to play well...— he sobbed.

— I apologize for him. — Hajime bowed, forcing his friend to do the same.

— Apology accepted — she replied.

She felt awkward. After all, it wasn't every day that two older senpais apologized to her at the same time.

— We'd appreciate it if you came to training anyway.

— Where is this invitation coming from? — She started playing with her fingers nervously.

The students were already heading to their classes. She couldn't be late for calligraphy. Yamahama-sensei took her work very seriously and did not tolerate any kind of deviation.

— I'll be honest with you — Iwaizumi started, dismissing Oikawa towards their classroom. — Kyōtani-kouhai seems calmer when you're in the stands. With his explosive personality, we may have serious problems in the next match. Help us. — He bowed again. — You can take someone with you if you want, just please come.

It was strange for [Reader] to accept that the boy could be short-tempered. They were in different classes but when they met, he always seemed rather calm to her.

— All right. — She nodded. — If it's to help him... I mean, help you win, then fine.

— Thanks a lot. We start at four p.m. in the hall! — The boy disappeared around the corner.

A stack of boxes filled with books covered [Reader] the entire school corridor. It was inevitable that they would collide with someone sooner or later.

— Be careful how you walk…— Kyōtani stopped mid-sentence.

The boy would normally yelled at anyone who bumped into him. It didn't matter whether it was a third-year or a teacher (though in the latter case he usually ended up cleaning the classroom as punishment).

This time, however, the situation required restraint. [Reader] was lying on the floor, among a pile of textbooks. They were in different classes but Kentarō had been watching her for some time. So far, there has been no opportunity to talk to her. He was stopped from taking the first step by information he accidentally heard during a breakfast break — apparently the girl liked calm and polite students. He had no way of knowing if it was true but he decided he didn't want to ruin anything. Especially since he was aware of his rather difficult character.

Without a word, he held out his hand. It was received with gratitude, accompanied by apologies and bows.

— Don't worry about it. — He scratched the back of his neck.

He introduced himself and then offered to help carry the boxes.

— Kyōtani-kun, you don't have to carry everything. I can take some from you.

— How much can such a frail girl like you carry?

He knew that sooner or later he wouldn't be able to stop himself. His character always came out in the end. He felt like punching himself in the face for forgetting.

To his surprise, [Reader] laughed.

— Not much probably. You're right. I heard you play volleyball. With muscles like that, you might as well carry it all.

He felt heat rising to his cheeks and covered himself with the cardboard. He hoped nothing was visible.

— Do you like volleyball?

— No. To be honest, I don't really like sports but my friend is a fan of the school team. She goes to every match where Oikawa-senpai plays.

— You can come to our training sometime. We usually play after three o'clock.

— Seriously? It'd be great.

— We're here — he said, wishing the classroom was at the other end of the school.

— Thanks for the help! And see you tomorrow.

— I'll be late... come on...— The girl pressed the buttons of the machine to no avail.

It had already swallowed a lot of yen and the metal springs didn't move.

The second grader didn't want to stay hungry. She had a difficult test ahead of her. Her growling stomach wouldn't help her at all.

— Stand back — she heard behind her.

Kentarō swung and kicked the machine with all his might. The equivalent of all the money that [Reader] put in was gone.

The boy turned around, waiting for a reaction. He was horrified by the sight of the girl standing there with her eyes wide open. He was afraid that she would scold him for destroying the machine. However, nothing of the sort happened.

— Wow! Just like in the movies. — Delighted, she took out candy bars and carbonated drinks. — Take the can as a thank you.

— Thanks but it's nothing. — He cleared his throat. — It always gets stuck. If you ever have a problem again, hit  really hard. Or... you can stop by my classroom and I'll come help you.

— I'll remember... Kyōtani-kun, aren't you going the wrong way? — She raised an eyebrow.

Only after asking did he realize that his legs were carrying him away from the room he was heading towards.

— It just so happens that I'm heading in that direction too...

— Why are you so calm today? — Yahaba asked, practicing his receive.

— Because [Reader]-san is in the stands — someone from the team replied.

— I'm always calm! — Kentarō hit the ball with such force that a loud slap against the hand could be heard.

He felt pain burning in his hand. He got used to venting his anger on the pitch. Volleyball was perfect for this purpose.

— Yes, yes... But you better get over this anger because your girlfriend is watching — the setter laughed.

— She's not my girlfriend! — He served towards Shigeru.

He was going to wipe the smirk off his face. At the last moment, however, he remembered to behave himself and eased the pressure.

He gritted his teeth.

The start of the match has come. He didn't feel good about being limited. The whistle blew, signaling that it was time for him to serve.

To the boy's surprise, between the screams of the fans he heard a loud:

— Kyōtani-kun, knock'em!

It was [Reader] who was screaming very loudly, waving at him.

He smiled.

— That's my intention! — he replied, jumping high into the air.

— Ace for Aobajōsai!

— Did you come up with the idea that [Reader] likes — Hajime drew quotation marks in the air — nice boys?

— Iwa-chan, I'm the captain of this team. I told you we would win this game, no matter what. — Oikawa winked at his friend and then went back to warming up.

— Sometimes I wonder if you're that brilliant or that stupid...

[isfjmel-phleg]

Random OC Facts: Delclis (Revised and Updated)

Since the two previous lists were old and contained some ideas that no longer work with what I'm going for, I've recompiled them into a new list, retaining most of the facts, but adjusting some, replacing others, and adding more.

Has possibly a better relationship with his plants than he does his family, judging by which party he speaks to and plays gramophone records for more.

Named his dog Canis familiaris (the scientific name for the species) less because he’s a nerd and more because he didn’t trust himself to remember anything else. He’s not good with details.

Goes in enthusiastically and even ruthlessly for traditional hunting and shooting, one of the few interests he and his stepfather Talfrin share. Will not look at or have anything to do with the carcass, because he is squeamish.

Is, at age fourteen, in a committed relationship with Science and finds the thought of romance for himself incredibly awkward and off-putting. This does not stop him from privately being an avid fan of the works of his world’s equivalent of Jane Austen. It's a very intellectualized interest.

Has had his entire life mapped out from an early age and has made few deviations from The Plan ever since (until he unexpectedly inherits the crown and everything is ruined).

Soft-spoken, with a tendency to speak as if he were reading his words off cue cards.

Is usually polite if approached but doesn’t go out of his way to seek people. In fact, he goes out of his way to avoid them. He doesn’t hate humanity. He just likes quiet and privacy more. (And you probably would too if you had had to grow up with his brother.)

Will tell you that plants prefer marches. At least, that's most of what he plays for them on his gramophone.

Can ride a horse reasonably well but is ridiculously inept with bicycles, cars, anything that's machinery. He's a botanist, not an engineer.

Produces broadly-depicted but technically accurate botanical sketches in the margins of his schoolbooks. All of them.

As a child, mostly got in trouble for not asking permission. It wasn't (always) willful disobedience; he just would take notions in his head to go off and do something by himself and then just do it without notifying anyone.

A bundle of nerves inside but outwardly almost eerily detached, to the point that most people don't want to find out what might happen when he finally reaches the breaking point.

Has every reason to be an excellent chess player. Cannot win a game to save his life, a fact his brother enjoys reinforcing.

Terrible at recognizing faces of people whom he doesn’t know well. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but he’s far-sighted and doesn’t see anyone close up well enough to memorize features. His pince-nez help, but he’s not always allowed to wear them in public.

Well-versed in not just the science but also the language of flowers. If he gives you a plant, it’s not just a kindness but probably some sort of code.

Both stubborn and nonconfrontational, which means that his life has been a series of passive-aggressive power struggles.

His mother gave him a microscope for his thirteenth birthday. His immediate response was to leave the room. She was upset that he apparently hated it. He was actually quite touched but embarrassed about reacting in front of her.

Surprisingly quite an attentive, if not especially empathetic, listener. Unless your name is Elystan.

Will say he doesn’t care what you think of him. He does. A lot. Specifically in regard to his knowledge and competence.

--

Although a good student overall, has always considered history his worst subject, on the grounds that he finds it pointless to learn all those meaningless details about people and events so long ago that they don’t matter much anymore. Prefers to concentrate on where Corege is going, instead of where they’ve been. This attitude can’t possibly cause him any problems later.

Received his wire fox terrier, Canis Familiaris, as a Christmas present from his stepfather, who felt the boy needed a hunting dog, and from his mother, who thought it would do him good to have a live creature to care for. It was one of the very few times Talfrin and Bethira have agreed on anything.

Before becoming King, used to go on surreptitious walking excursions to villages near Endean (the estate where he and his brother lived), accompanied by his tutor. They would explore old architecture, search for local flora on the way, and chat with villagers. No one recognized him, since he was typically absent from the royal family’s public appearances and official photographs, but for additional security, he would pose as his tutor’s son and use the alias Gearalt Davell.

Consequently is an experienced outdoorsman who can make camp and cook over a fire in the woods whenever necessary–i.e. as often as he can get away with it. (The estate has never been large enough for him to completely avoid his brother.)

Ever since he was six, has presented his mother on her birthday with a portfolio of flowers he has pressed and labeled himself, with increasing complexity. It went over well the first year he did it and he’s stuck with it ever since because it’s effective and he’s unsure how else to relate to her.

Developed his interest in plants in early childhood from a habit of tearing apart flowers and grass to see how their insides worked. The gardener at Endean got tired of this and solved the problem by teaching and encouraging him to cultivate his own plants. And it escalated from there.

Keeps his books arranged not by author or subject but by theme in the order he believes they flow from each other. No one else can make any sense of it, but it works for him.

At age twelve, dismantled and put on an entire suit of armor from the long gallery after Elystan dared him to. After getting in, found he couldn’t get out, and at that point Elystan made himself scarce and Delclis had to go clanking in shame through the house looking for help.

Has a mild interest in the sport of wickets and has accompanied his stepfather to the annual Hollingham v. Christleton match for quite a few years–and enjoyed it. Has played the game a few times with village teams during his excursions, but isn’t much good at it, especially fielding, during which he tends to daydream.

Spent most of his first day as king exploring his wing of Rhosemore Palace with the intent of evading all the people who now expected things of him. Managed to elude them for a good five hours, with the consequence of learning that A) there were several prime hiding spots but they were almost impossible to reach without being noticed and B) being king does not exempt one from scoldings for avoiding responsibility.

Has strong religious beliefs, influenced by his tutor and his mother, and this informs his interest in science. Despite his faith in the goodness of God and meaningfulness in the universe, he struggles with cynicism in his views toward his fellow man.

Not a generous person by nature, but if he likes someone, he will tend to spontaneously give them things. Odd things, but always with some kind of personal symbolic meaning that's clearer to him than to the recipient.

Has never been outside of Corege. His mother and stepfather never brought their boys along on international travel (Elystan was always too young or too ill, and it was politically inexpedient to take Delclis anywhere in public), and as king, he is too busy to leave town most of the time, let alone leave the country.

Is conscientiously tidy and orderly in some aspects of his life but messy in others. His room tends to be in disarray, while his desk and plant stands are spotless.

Has never had a friend. The closest he ever came to it was on a walk through a local village when he was about eight. A local boy initiated an impromptu game of Association football with him. They didn't talk much, but they enjoyed each other's company enough to play every time Delclis passed through--until the boy stopped showing up. Delclis never knew his name or what happened to him.

Seldom got the opportunity to interact with other boys of his social class, because of a combination of living in an isolated location, inability to have many visitors because of fears of exposing Elystan to disease, and Talfrin's deliberately keeping him from forming bonds with anyone with political influence/connections. Officially, though, it was because he himself was not interested in socializing, a trait that Talfrin always encouraged.