#it's either too oily or too dry

[lilithofpenandbook]

...Well I guess I've got Snape's hair then.

[morgenlich]

remembering a post on here that was talking about the evils of the skincare industry and mentioned being a camp counselor who regularly goes a few weeks a year without really even washing their face, talking about how they can literally be covered in dirt for days and their skin doesn’t react at all and it’s like. ok.

you can do that.

[swagyna]

moving on

my friend convinced me to buy a little bit of skin care products, and ive noticed a huge improvement :v so.

[liviawildrose]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

take yourself seriously. every inch of you. every dream of yours. every damn thing.

this isn’t just a pep talk; it’s a full-on life shift. if you’re not taking yourself seriously, no one else will either. i’m actually kinda irritated how us women in general don’t value ourselves enough cause bitch it’s a privilege to have a woman in your life like please, we have the power to create a life inside our bodies so best believe we also have the power to change our entire lives. it’s you versus you, babe, and it’s time to step into the main character role you’ve been putting off. here’s how you shift the vibe:

1. start by loving yourself to the fullest

every single inch of you deserves to be loved and respected by you. you want someone to love you? you want people to respect you? start by loving and respecting yourself first. how you treat yourself sets the tone for how others treat you. the mirror won’t smile unless you do. seriously like what’s stopping you from loving, cherishing and prioritising yourself? it’s your body, mind and soul ITS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO TAKE UTMOST CARE OF IT.

take your body seriously. work out, not because society says so, but because your body carries you through this world. strengthen it, nourish it, adore it.

do workout, stretching and yoga to strengthen your body. eat good quality food, healthy food to nourish your body and speak words of affirmation to adore that work of art aka your body. cause why the fuck not? go to a dermatologist, gynaecologist, dentist etc get your check ups done become the most hottest version of yourself. this will keep you strong and healthy ensuring a healthy and fulfilling long life while achieving your body, beauty and physical goals would be just an added benefit (the best possible benefit is your body will thank you when you’re old cause all this workout, yoga regular check ups led you to age like a fine wine without any health concerns)

take your appearance seriously. it’s not about vanity it’s about self-expression and confidence. dress like you care, because you should care. look in the mirror and know you’re that bitch.

do yourself a favour and stop following trends and start becoming more you, pro tip start wearing clothes and makeup according to your venus, rising or mid heaven to suit you better, take your skin care, body care, hair care seriously too. take your time to understand your style, your self care routine. understand your body type, face shape and get clothes that suit you, understand your skin and get skin care that suit you and your skin concerns, understand your hair type and develop a great hair care routine too. do you colour analysis and understand which colour palette suit you the best. START TAKING YOUR APPEARANCE SERIOUSLY.

do your colour analysis done for free with the help of chat gpt

understand your body shape and proportions to dress accordingly

figure out your face shape and get your haircut, eyebrows, eyelashes done accordingly (even getting the best shades or reading glasses)

understand your hair porosity and hair type (even your scalp type) and your hair issues to buy hair products accordingly

understand your skin type and issues you’re facing to buy skin care products accordingly

understand you body too, sometimes you face is oily type but body is dry (like me) so different products

experiment and see what suits you over time (another reason to start using journal, check if certain products are actually showing results if not replace) even certain workouts

2. take your goals seriously

whatever you want to achieve, treat it like your life’s purpose, because it is. no one else will believe in your dreams until you do. stop waiting for validation from the outside.

take your career seriously. what are you doing every day to move the needle forward? no more procrastinating or making excuses. schedule your time. commit to your craft.

become the best at everything you do, dedicate time to becoming better everyday single day. become addicted to getting better becoming the top 1% develop a mindset of getting better everyday single day. keep developing your crafts your passion and practice daily

take your learning seriously. every book, every lesson, every skill it’s building the future version of you. treat your studies, hobbies, and passions like they’re sacred, because they are.

one thing that i’m doing these days is taking my learning seriously, be it academic and school stuff but also watching youtube videos on manifestation and learning better my top recommendation for understanding manifestation better is this channel called nero knowledge. now the thing all of his videos are long videos surpassing 30 mins average easily but that’s one way up putting it i’m trying to get my attention i’ve lost to short term 1-2 mins content back (and you should do it too) learn new skills, cooking, baking, new language, or whatever seriously why? cause this will help you get better as a human and as a player in the game of life. no skill is a waste or not that great like someone told “cooking is not that great of a skill” but guess what it is. you can use this skill to feed yourself but also this is such a flex skill it’s a patriarchal world unfortunately and just because we as women hate it doesn’t mean the patriarchy will go away. knowing how to cook is a survival skill which is important for both the genders but for some weird reason when women do it it’s “hot” and “ domestic” so let’s just use this skill to use and throw men and society in general. similarly drawing is a skill that you can use to show off too. skills is not just about learning language or coding etc

3. curate your reality like it’s your personal museum

your life is your masterpiece. everything you consume; what you eat, what you watch, what you listen to, who you hang around is shaping your reality. be intentional about it.

• what are you watching? is it inspiring you or draining you? binge less nonsense and more content that pushes you to grow.

again, if you haven’t made your mindmovie, please make it. ask chatgpt to make you a beautiful story where you have everything you desire and read it every single day. listen to subliminals. watch long form educational content like nero knowledge. be very intentional with whatever put in your brain. i’m not even kidding. your brain will shape your reality, so be very intentional. with whatever things you say to it, movies you watch, songs you listen to. everything. also be very intentional with your friends and people you surround yourself with because they can also influence you a lot. you are the average of five people you spend your most time with so be very fucking intentional.

• what are you eating? fuel your body like you care about living long enough to see your dreams come true.

as i mentioned earlier, eat your food intentionally and eat your food. if you’re planning to lose weight, eat food accordingly, if you’re planning to gain weight, eat food accordingly. (make a meal plan and get a nutritionist too if needed) if you’re like me who wants to become a singer, stop eating ice cream and stuff that will affect your throat. eat your food like your medicine or you have to eat medicine as your food. be intentional with your food as well. don’t eat unhygienic food either eat home-cooked food. and if you’re eating outside, make sure that the food is hygienic and the ingredients are also good quality being very mindful with whatever the heck you are putting in your body my love. 

• who are you around? energy is contagious, babe. surround yourself with people who make you want to level up, not stay stagnant.

i’m not saying, cut off all your friends. but i’m saying that distance yourself at least with people who are not ready to grow. people who are way too comfortable in their own comfort zone. and people who are not ready to see anyone else grow. people who constantly put other people down. and people who try to undermine you. be friends with people who want to grow. if you are at a certain level get friends who are also at your level, but are willing to change. or get friends how are at higher level than you who can help you grow too. and is that means you have to cut ties with your old friends it’s okay

4. respect yourself enough to show up

it’s not about perfection; it’s about consistency. every single day is a new chance to prove to yourself that you’re worth the effort.

• wake up earlier. give yourself time to breathe and plan before the world starts pulling you in every direction.

half of the game is literally to show up every single day. most of us fail to do so. consistency is what matters the most. so show up every single day respect yourself. don’t disrespect yourself by showing that “oh i am just a lazy bitch.” no, you’re not. respect yourself enough to show up every single day. for example you respect your professor and that is why no matter how drained you are, you will still show up to the class or at least hand in the work on time because you know that professor have the power to deduct or increase your marks just like that in your life, the professor is all your goals and in order to please this professor (goals) you need to show up every fucking day so that the professor aka your goals, give you the results that you want 

• set boundaries. protect your peace. say no to what drains you, and hell yes to what fuels you.

respect yourself enough to set boundaries and protect your peace, no matter what. this is actually the very first step of levelling up and i have mentioned this in the first steps. have enough courage to say no to things, people and circumstances that are not aligned with who you wanna be and the goals you have. for example, if a friend asks you that or do you wanna drink? say no. especially if you’re like me, and you wanna become a singer, alcohol damage your vocal chords, and i cannot take that risk. start saying no to plans that do not align with your goals and the person you are trying to become. it’s a way of showing respect to the person you’re trying to be. again if your show respect to the person you’re tryna become or the reality your chasing you will not have it, your actions and beliefs should be in alignment with the reality you seek

• prioritize self-care like it’s non-negotiable. rest, hydrate, and treat yourself kindly.

again i’ve mentioned this earlier too in the first steps so please read that, no matter how much you train and hustle you need to give yourself enough time to recover even athletes do this after intense training, they do spend some time recovering so that they muscles and overall stamina get used to everything. if you’re only working like a robot and you refuse to give yourself time to rest, it’s not gonna work. moreover, it’s not healthy. give yourself time to rest. hydrate and do self-care. treat yourself, kindly. as i mentioned in my become your own mother blog. you have to become a mother to your own self, who says. “i want you to work hard, because you deserve a better life” but also a mother who says “you should rest and take some moment to relax because you’ve worked hard and you deserve it” it’s all about balance. even in my game of life blog, i mention fun and recreation category, because having fun and treating yourself kindly, relaxing all these things matter too. because you just can’t keep on working and not have fun and relax in your life. that’s not how i want you to live this life. i want you to hustle hard and the party even harder.

5. start dating yourself

no, seriously. treat yourself like the love of your life.

• take yourself on solo dates. dress up, and go somewhere that makes you happy.

ask yourself, when you’re in love with someone what do you do? you try to become better to get their attention (my sister aka me changed her entire music taste to get validation from this guy, yeah i know embarrassing) but seriously you take care of the way you dress, what you post on social media, your words etc. so now put that same “im obsessed with you” energy towards yourself. workout get a better physique FOR YOU, better your conversation skills FOR YOU, score good marks FOR YOU, become rich FOR YOU.

• journal your thoughts and dreams like you’re getting to know someone deeply because you are.

start journaling, shadow working etc to understand yourself better cause that’s exactly what you’d do if you’re the love of your life, understanding yourself your flaws, your dark side, your patterns, your attachment style etc why? cause you love yourself. do scrap book journaling to honour your life. paste photos of your achievements etc (i’ll make a post about my journals too) but y’all got the idea. start journaling you thoughts and feelings, you don’t need a “how was your day?” text to write about your day in your journal

• spoil yourself. don’t wait for someone else to buy you flowers or treat you to nice things. do it for yourself.

stop letting life happen to you, go live your life yourself, go audition alone, go start a business alone do things alone and be okay with that, if you do have a friend who is in this journey of growth with you together that’s great but please don’t wait for a man or a friend to start living your life be okay with doing with on your own and as well as in a group

6. heal for the little you inside

your inner child is still here, waiting for you to show her the love and care she deserved

just read become your own mother. i have explained this topic in detail. but seriously, one way to honour yourself is to honour your inner child too

7. your energy will mirror back to you

the way you treat yourself is the way the world will treat you.

• if you neglect yourself, people will neglect you.

it starts with you, babe. how you show up for yourself sets the standard for how others show up for you. if you don’t take your boundaries seriously no one else will. if you’re not putting effort in showing up for yourself no one else will, that is why one way to manifest your dream life (your dream reality) is by wearing what your alter ego (your higher self would wear) i have written about alter ego in first steps and the game of life so read it if you’re new here

• if you don’t respect yourself, people will disrespect you.

as awful it may sound, but you have to earn your respect. why do you think your professors will take you seriously? if you don’t score good marks it’s not like they will treat you like a piece of shit, but they won’t take your opinion seriously because you haven’t improved yourself enough for that yet i’m not even kidding. if you really wanna be heard, you have to do something that is remarkable. i know it’s a hard to swallow and it might feel like what the heck?. everyone should deserve respect equally. and that’s true. i agree with you. i personally would never look down on someone just because he or she haven’t done something remarkable, or they aren’t as rich or pretty. i would never do that, but that is not the same case with how society thinks if you wanna step up, you have to do things and show the world that: yes, i am capable. for that, you have to respect yourself enough to take the first step in order to achieve greatness. and then people would respect you more because the energy you’re putting will mirror back to you.

• if you don’t take your dreams seriously, no one else will.

i mean, seriously, just start taking your dreams, seriously. no one else will take your life, your dream, your looks, your income, seriously, if you don’t. it’s not like other people owe you success. you have to do that. you have to become your own knight in the shining armour. and change your life completely. because if you’re not taking your dream, seriously, why will anyone? you have to take initiative. you have put yourself up there. and get that bag. 

8. stop waiting for permission

you don’t need someone to tell you it’s okay to go after your dreams. you don’t need a cheerleader to remind you that you’re worthy. you have to affirm it to yourself, every single day: “i am capable. i am worthy. i am doing this.”

• stop hesitating. the perfect moment will never come. just start.

for example, i want to become a singer. but that doesn’t mean that i will wait for a label to notice me and change my life upside down. no, i will start making covers. i will start practising my craft, i will email managers and people in that field to notice me because it’s on me. i have to do that. i’ll have to do the research and look up for any audition. and by the time, i am gifted with a perfect moment or opportunity i will be ready to snatch that opportunity because i kept on levelling up my skills, so when the opportunity comes, i will be more than qualified for it. 

• don’t wait for external validation. be your own biggest hype squad.

there are gonna be days. no one is gonna hype you up, and you have to do that. actually, you have to do that every single day. if you wake up early and get your morning routine done give yourself a pat on the back every. single. day. tell yourself, “i’m so proud of myself.” you studied for three hours? give yourself a pat on the back. like come on, if no one else gonna appreciate you, you can! you can appreciate yourself every. single. day. and yes, every single day, i’m not exaggerating. i want you to keep on hyping yourself up every fucking day. and i’ll keep hyping you up too because i love y’all

9. get 1-2% better every day

you don’t need to overhaul your entire life overnight. just focus on being a tiny bit better than you were yesterday.

• drank one more glass of water? better.

• walked an extra block? better.

• studied for an hour extra? better.

those small wins add up, babe. before you know it, you’ll look back and barely recognize the person you used to be. it’s me vs me

10. make yourself proud

this is your life. your story. your masterpiece. stop living like you’re a side character and start owning the spotlight.

• take yourself seriously because you’re worth it.

i think i have explained this quite a number of times throughout the blog. but I’ll say it again. take yourself seriously. take your thoughts seriously. take your mental health seriously. take your body seriously. take your mind seriously, your spiritual beliefs seriously, your presence seriously, your ideas seriously every single thing i mean it every single thing seriously and get rid of anything that is trying to come between you and your goals (your dream life)

• work for your inner child, your future self, and the person you’re becoming.

be intentional with everything you do, the people you hang out with if the same people have hurt you or you’re inner child get rid of them. if these people will affect your future and your future self, basically, the person you’re trying to become get rid of them. similarly, if a thing or particular circumstance is affecting you, please get rid of those things. be intentional with how you talk to yourself and the things you listen, to the videos you watch, the food you eat, the songs you listen to, all of them should align with the person you’re trying to become. start aligning yourself in the same frequency as your dream self i.e your future self by wearing clothes that she might wear, by talking and watching videos that she might watch and basically embody her habits, believes and mindset. while doing all this, keep working on your shadow self (do shadow work) and healing your inner child simultaneously. (healing is a daily practice)

• every single thing you do for yourself now is setting the foundation for the empire you’re building.

also, the same thing be intentional with whatever you’re doing. if you wanna become a millionaire, your habit should look like one. if you are trying to become a good person, a loving person, your habits should look like one. If you’re trying to become a singer, your habits should look like one. It’s all in what we do daily and our habits literally.

if you want to join me on this journey of becoming my higher self. please comment, like, reblog, and follow let's embrace the glow of together.

[reverie-starlight]

skincare with keigo bc I'm never not soft for him and want to take care of him forever. happy birthday !!!!!!!!

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, lots and lots and lots of fluff. he is my baby. also I don't have a real skincare routine, so I'm apologizing in advance for how lackluster it may seem. this is in the pre-moving in together stage of your relationship, but not too early on either, if it matters to you!

keigo watches you curiously through the doorway that leads to the master bathroom as he sits on your bed cross-legged. he doesn't want to disrupt whatever it is you're doing (you seem very focused), but he's extremely interested in what you're putting on your face.

he thinks you look stunning with the fluffy animal headband on and some shorts paired with one of his old shirts. he thinks he could look at you like this forever, actually.

he watches you smile slightly and lean over the counter to get closer to the mirror. "I can feel you staring at me, you know."

his heart flutters and he tries to ignore how hot his face feels.

you stand up straight again and turn your face towards him, beckoning him over with a wave of your hand. as if he's been waiting for you to do just that, he gets up and saunters into the bathroom.

"so... what exactly is all this?" he asks, settling behind you with his arms around your waist, inspecting the different bottles and containers.

"they're skincare products. see?" you hold up one of the tubes for him to read, going back to spreading the cream over your skin.

"hydrating... morning and night use... huh."

you pick up on the curiosity in his voice and look at him through the mirror. “do you want to try my skincare routine for yourself, keigo?”

he hesitates and you give him a moment to decide, though you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say. eventually keigo does nod and you peck him on the cheek. “I’ll get you a headband, just a second.”

moments later you're sitting on the counter, shoving a white headband with panda ears over his head. he stares at himself in the mirror, watching you adjust it so his hair is pushed back from his forehead.

"you're so cute," you murmur, smiling at him and resisting the urge to press kisses all over his face. "okay, brush your teeth before we start. I've heard doing it after messes things up."

"really?" he sound skeptical.

you shrug. "I dunno if there's any merit to it but I've seen enough people mention it, so I just do it this way now."

he nods and reaches behind you to grab the red toothbrush you keep for him whenever he sleeps over. you sneak a kiss against the corner of his mouth when he's close enough and it makes him grin.

once he's done brushing his teeth, he steps away to spit into the sink and wipe his mouth before returning between your legs. "alright, what's first?"

you grab a tall tube and present it to him the same way he's seen people online do it in those viral review videos. "face wash. it helps get all the dirt and grime out, and it's good for sensitive skin."

you wet your hands in the sink and raise them to his face to dampen it. "this one suggests using it on slightly wet skin for better results."

he lets you pat him until you're satisfied, and he watches as you put some of the gel on your hands. "close your eyes."

you don't need to tell him twice.

keigo happily lets you massage the product into his face and you giggle a bit when he leans into it. "does it feel nice?"

he nods a bit. "so nice."

"alright, it's foamy now, you can wash it off."

he blinks, returning to reality, and does what you say. once all the face wash is gone, you tap a towel against him, careful not to rub. "okay, would you say your skin feels dry, oily or a combination of both most of the time?"

he thinks about how his skin can get a bit itchy and wind burnt from all the flying he does while on patrol. "very dry."

you nod and grab the tin he was looking at earlier. "this helps with that."

you scoop a bit onto your index finger and smooth it over his cheeks, forehead and temples. "there," you smile softly and cup his face in your palms. "now you'll be even softer, which I honestly didn't think was possible, but here we are." he's certain his pupils are heart-shaped at this point. your entire aura is tinted pink and red and there's cartoon hearts bubbling up around you. he wonders if you have a secret second quirk he doesn't know about or if the mind really is as powerful as they say.

he doesn't know how exactly to filter the intense emotions running through him as you continue to dote on him, so they just well up inside of him until he can't stop the quick and sap-filled "I love you so much," from bubbling out of his mouth.

you pause a little at how... thankful he sounds. you know that he isn't used to being pampered- not that he's ever explicitly stated that, you just kind of put two and two together based on his career and what he's told you of his past- but you hadn't realized how much it would affect him.

so you smile at him and tilt his face down to kiss his head, careful not to get any product on your lips. you return the sentiment, happy to be of service to him for once, and ignore the way your insides are turning to goop at his expression.

you'll have to dote on him more often. not only because you want to see him like this more often, but because you want- no, need to make up for all those years he must have felt discarded and used and overworked... he handles it well. he's accepted his duty and thrives in his field. you know he does, otherwise he would have snapped long before he met you, but... it hurts to realize that something as simple as skincare is enough to toss him into unknown territory.

once you're done with the moisturizer, you slip the panda headband off of him and blink away the tears threatening to fall. he's still wearing that appreciative expression, heart eyes and all, so you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"I love you more than you will ever know, keigo," you mumble into his neck. "don't ever doubt that, okay?"

his arms find their way around your waist and you feel him nod against your head. you reveal your face to him and press your forehead against his, gently nudging noses.

comfortable silence lingers for a bit before he whispers "you smell good."

you snort and pull back. "it's the moisturizer, it's pear scented. do you want to head to bed now? the counter is cold."

he nods again and picks you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him despite the fact that the distance from the washroom to your bed is only less than twenty steps.

as soon as you're both under the covers and he expels one of his feathers to turn the light off, you beckon him over to lay on your chest.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and tailing down to scratch the nape of his neck. he lets out a content sigh and he presses soft, sleepy kisses to any bare skin he can find without moving too much. you almost laugh at how quickly you're able to get him relaxed.

you know you'll miss his weight on your body by time you wake up- he'll be long gone for an early morning patrol. even so, at least you'll be comforted with the knowledge that he was able to get a good night's sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love him :(

[asexualsinner]

Ghoul Hair Headcanons

This wouldn't leave my brain until I put it out into the world

Dewdrop/Sodo

Pin straight corn blonde that goes to his mid back

Very thin

Dry and damaged from his fire transition (Cumulus bullies him into letting her put oils and serums in it to help. He won't admit that he likes it)

Will wash his hair everyday/every time he takes a shower. This is sometimes multiple times a day. (Cumulus and Rain cry in despair)

Cowlick at the front part. Annoys the shit out of him when it dries funny

Let's his hair air dry after a shower

His hair used to be normally oily pre fire transition from the ministry's lake but noticed that if he swims for long periods of time his hair will be greasy and gross

Leaves hair EVERYWHERE. In the shower, on the furniture, clothes, you.

Uses everyone else's shampoo and conditioner bc he's too lazy to get his own

Will wear it up in a spider clip when practicing

Doesn't like people touching it, will let the other ghouls braid/style it on occasions or if they give him their best puppy dog eyes long enough

Somehow manages to not have bed head. Wakes up and his hair is fine. The pack considers this the 8th wonder of the world

Gets annoyed when his hair gets caught in his mask/balaclava bc he was too lazy to either tie it up himself or let one of the others do it for him preshow

Rain

Wavy hair that curls up just under his ears, blackish almost dark blue in certain light

Hair defies logic, will curl/wave in patterns that don't make sense

Uses 837+ products in it to make it glossy and soft after swimming (screams internally after Dew leaves barely a squirt of shampoo left in the shower and doesn't replace it)

Sleeps with a silk pillowcase

Will pin his hair back with pearl barrettes that papa gifted him

BEDHEAD. The WORST BEDHEAD out of all the ghouls. Wakes up looking like he lost a fight with a moose

Will let anyone run their fingers through it/brush it/style it. He will make you wash your hands beforehand though

Dries it using a cotton T-shirt. Usually the one he was wearing pre-shower

Washes his hair every 3-5 days

Mountain

Brown 3b curly mullet/Mohawk

Shaves the sides bc he finds the hair tickling his ears and horns annoying

Usually has leaves or flowers caught in his hair

Bangs cover his eyes

Cowlick at the crown of his head

Oil? Seums? Who is she, bc Mountain has never heard of her

His horns make headbands impossible so he will use bobby pins to keep his bangs out of the way while in the greenhouse or practicing

Bobby pins are everywhere. In the greenhouse, the practice room, living room, kitchen, EVERYWHERE

Consequently knows how to lockpick doors with said Bobby pins. No he will not tell you how he knows how to do this

Wraps his hair in silk handkerchiefs to sleep

Will wash his hair once a week if he remembers

Shakes his hair out like a dog to dry unless one of the others corner him with the Dyson hair dryer. (He won't admit that he hates the sound it makes)

Will throw in leave in conditioner overnight

Let's Phantom and Aurora put in cute clips that he forgets about

Once showed up to practice with a head full of colorful butterfly clips bc he forgot about them. Copia didn't say anything, wanted to see how long it would take Mount to notice while head banging. He didn't notice the entire practice until one flew off and hit his drum set

Swiss

Dark brownish black locs, sometimes will braid in colors if he's feeling like it. Mostly dark colors like burgundy or purple. Has been convinced to do gold before tours by the others

JEWELRY!!! LOTS of metal rings, cuffs and jewels. Loves being the shiniest thing in the room

Has as many if not more hair care products than Rain. Takes care to make sure his hair doesn't get damaged and is healthy

Sleeps with a silk bonnet to protect his hair

Has done fun style like space buns with his locs but will usually leave it down or in a top knot

Will wash it every 7-10 days or so unless it gets super dirty

Will take care of the rest of the packs hair, is the pack mom about it

Dew/Sodo frustrates the HELL out of him. What do you mean you don't use conditioner??

Will chew on the cuffs like a fidget toy

Takes great pride in his hair, will spend forever in the bathroom if you let him

If his hair isn't cooperating with him, that's it for the day you will not see him

Has injured himself/others while practicing from all the metal in his hair while headbanging/throwing himself around (was forced to wear a cone of shame during the rest of that practice)

Phantom/Aeon

Very wavy almost curly black hair with white streak on the left side

Hair thins out and curls around his shoulders with whispy bangs

Wolf cut girlie ✨

Soft and fluffy, loves to have his scalp scratched and hair played with. Will absolutely fall asleep while it's being done

Has tinted his hair with purple bc he likes the aesthetic

The others have found him in the bathroom at 3am with scissors bc he saw a trend on TikTok and wanted to try it (he was banned from scissors for 3 months)

Swiss cried when he saw it in the morning (what did you do??)

Forgets to wash his hair but is still better than Mountain about it

Washes every 5-7 days

Originally would use a towel to dry until he found the Dyson and now is a menace

Will chew on his hair until it's brought to his attention

Headbands, headbands, HEADBANDS! LOVES THEM.

Has demon horns ones, cat ear ones, regular ones, even those zig zag ones that hurt he doesn't care he loves them

Will use whatever's in the bathroom but prefers softer smelling products

Hates hairspray with a passion

Doesn't sleep with any special pillow cases, etc

Double cowlick where his bags sit and at the crown

Gets really REALLY bad knots at the base of his skull. Will cry when Swiss or Cumulus has to brush them out

Aether

Strawberry blonde short hair and shaved on the sides

Slicked back fade, likes the greaser look from the 50s

Do not touch this man's hair

Not only is it slicked back with 50lbs of product he will also bite you

Has sideburns

Somehow still uses 3-in-1 despite being picky about how his hair looks

Will sing into the hair dryer while using it

Hair is dry, not damaged but definitely not hydrated/healthy enough

Doesn't wear any accessories except for a beanie in the winter

Looks like a peacock in the morning, hair is just everywhere. Sticks up in every direction when he wakes up

Washes it everyday due to the product he puts in it

Fell asleep on the tour bus once and there was a grease spot left from his hair gel

Uses hair pomade that smells like vanilla and sandalwood

Goes through a jar of pomade every two days. The ministry's budget is crying, shaking in their boots bc of this ghouls usage of hair gel

Is a walking fire hazard from the gel

Cumulus

4b curl pattern, rocks the afro with bangs

Natural color is a dark reddish brown but dyes it fun colors like sky blue

Loves to tie it up with a cute designed handkerchief or bun, etc

Will accessorize with butterfly clips or spiral hair wyrms/Jewels

Washes it once a week but uses hair oils/serums daily

Bullies Dew/Sodo into letting her care for his hair

Is the go to for hair advice after Swiss

Uses a silk bonnet and silk pillowcase to sleep

Will use a cotton T-shirt to dry it/scrunch it and then finishes with the dyson

Second biggest hair shedder after Dew/Sodo

Will style it like Rosie the Riveter for practice

Doesn't like it when people touch her hair unless they ask first

Even then the answer may be no

Likes floral scented shampoo/conditioner

Aurora

Straight flat hair with choppy bags

THICCCC hair, goes to the bottom of her shoulder blades

Platinum blonde but dyed underneath

Enjoys the shocked gasps she gets when she pulls her hair up to show the rainbow underneath

Doesn't hold a curl for the life of her, she's tried

Usually keeps her hair down, will do a low ponytail for practice

Twin braids on sides framing her face

Likes playing with the others hair since hers doesn't hold different styles well

No cowlicks but her hair knots horrendously. After show care includes at least two other ghouls trying to help her unknot her hair from her balaclava

Washes it once a week,prefers cinnamon scented soaps

Super greasy if she uses too much product

Is in love with the Dyson hair dryer, fights with Aether on who gets to use it as a mic

Cirrus

Thin, straight dark black hair to her mid back

Twinning with Dew/Sodo except she takes care of her hair ✨

Shorted whispy hair framing her face

Her hair looks blue in certain light, almost like an oil slick

Split ends? Couldn't be her

Favorite shampoo scent is mint

Will spend hours combing her hair

Prefers combs over brushes

Doesn't get bad bed head but her hair is super static-y.

Will wear twin braids when practicing or pin the braids to her head with clips

Hair always looks super elegant

Like Aurora her hair can't hold a curl

Doesn't use anything special to sleep with

Will wash every 3-5 days

Uses serums as needed but her hair is super hydrated

Very soft

Prefers not to be touched but will allow certain ghouls to braid it if asked

Is the one who bought the Dyson hair dryer, is super amused by everyone's feral reactions to it.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 8: FM Static

Bearblr Promptober Day 8: Autumn Leaves

Summary: In which Carmen has a panic attack in front of his girlfriend for the first time.

Warnings: Panic attack, swearing, trouble breathing, mentions of vomiting, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described) in mind, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

GIF by @hotch-girl

08 Oct 2024

The wind sounds different through autumn leaves.

It’s high pitched, crisper. Bit like an out-of-tune radio. Less an adagio, more an allegro. The skittering sound they make as they somersault across the sidewalk has quickly become one of my favorites to pick out among street noise, so much so that I’ve begun walking home without headphones in, something my girl isn’t thrilled about because car horns and sirens will fuck up your hearing pretty bad. But it’s just for the fall, while the leaves are crunchy and tumbling around. Not like a kitchen is a quiet place to work, either.

She tucked my hair behind my ear.

“I’d love to know what you’re smiling about, sweetheart,” she said.

“Just. Sound of the leaves,” I said, gesturing to the few cartwheeling across the trail in front of us.

We were taking a walk in the park near my apartment on a Sunday morning, before it got too busy. She does this thing where she hugs my arm and intertwines our fingers while we’re out. At first, I thought it was to stop my nervous fidgeting, but she likes tracing her thumb back and forth over the inside of my wrist, over the scar on my palm, so I think it’s sort of her form of nervous fidgeting, you know?

“Yeah?”

I could hear her smiling.

“Does it help at the restaurant, sweetheart?”

“Finding sounds to focus on?”

“Mmhm.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know? I-I still get really wound up. I still forget to breathe. Sometimes, it feels like my stomach is turning inside out. Sometimes, it feels like I’m going to explode, but I don’t, but then I hurl after service.”

Her eyebrows crinkled together. “Oh. Oh, honey, that sounds terrible.”

I nodded, tried to say something about the leaves to keep the conversation moving, but the words got caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut. Wriggled my hand out of her grasp to press my palms to my cheekbones as the sights and sounds of the kitchen invaded. Doors. A dropped plate. Refire these steaks, 8 minutes behind, get the fuck back to work, call outs, chefs, keep the pace up, every second counts. My chest tightened, throat killed, head swam, and the leaves—they sounded too far away. And it was too warm, it was always too fucking warm. Pressure on my shoulders that I yielded to. Someone was talking to me, who the fuck was trying to talk to me?

“…can hear me, you’re in the park,” she murmured. “You’re not at work, sweetheart. It’s Sunday, you’re taking a walk in the park.”

Something about her voice didn’t seem real, okay? It was this ethereal, weightless thing, not because of its pitch or volume, but because of how effortlessly it flowed. It existed separate from the grimy, gritty, loud, bright, boiling world, from my dry and oily skin, from the callouses on my hands from the knives, from the jagged pain that threatened to burst through my spine. It was somewhere else. She was from somewhere else. My sky would fall on her. I was the other shoe.

This is where she leaves, right?

Cold hands clamped around my wrists. “Carmen? Carmen, baby, you’re not breathing. I need you to breathe.”

That prompted me to empty my lungs and heave for air. My heart pounded so hard, I was convinced she could see it, my head spun, I couldn’t seem to get enough air in, it was a million degrees, my teeth hurt. She pried my hands back, something rough and papery hit my fingers.

“Can you tell me what that feels like, Carmen?”

“Don’t call me that, Nat!” It hissed out between my teeth before I could stop it. A vice clamped on my throat, and then I couldn’t breathe. Fuck. Why couldn’t I breathe? Why was the world still dark? Where the fuck even was I?

Hands sized my jacket lapels and shook me. “Breathe!”

I gasped for air.

“Good. Good. Keep breathing, sweetheart.” Something dull and cold on my chest. Her hand? “You’re okay. You’re okay, I promise. You’re safe.” The papery thing touched my hand again. “Keep breathing. There you go.”

It hit me that I’d just had a panic attack in front of her, and my stomach flipped. She kept the thing pressed against my hand while also rubbing circles over my chest. I pinched it between my fingers. Tried to. My hands were trembling so bad that I couldn’t tell if I was holding it or if she was. Some kind of a ridge. Another. Another.

“Uh, ridges?” Fuck me, I sounded like I was about to cry.

It took her a second to respond. “Mmhm. Ridges. What else can you feel?”

I felt along the edges. Skittering sound of the wind blurred into my periphery. “It’s a maple leaf.”

“Mmhm.”

It snapped when I bent a lobe of the leaf. Disintegrated into nothing when I rubbed it between my fingers. I blinked my eyes open, squinted against daylight. Then realized the ground took up too much of my view. How long had I been crouched on the gravel?

“S-sorry. Sorry. Shit, um…” Where. The fuck. Are my words?

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m-I’m-I’m getting better, I promise.”

“I believe you.” She finger-combed my hair off my forehead. “Do you want to take your jacket off for a few minutes? You’re really warm.”

Yeah. Yeah, that was a good idea. I hauled myself up, she followed, I shrugged off my jacket, cold air slammed into me like a physical thing because I was sweaty, and, as if abruptly awoken by my alarm, the rest of the world snapped into focus. Distant traffic, arguing birds, a barking dog, conversations that I couldn’t make out, solid ground, frozen spots on the backs of my shoulders, my sides, singing of a wind chime. FM static from the leaves. I needed to hold her? Don’t know what came over me, but I needed to hold her, and it took her by surprise because she made a cute little squeak when I pulled her in for a hug. She smoothed her hands over my back, pressed a kiss to my neck. Her nose was cold.

“Do you feel like talking about it?”

“No.” I responded too fast. “No, I’m-I’m gonna freak out again.”

She kissed my shoulder. Swayed me gently. “That’s okay. Maybe we try decompressing for now, hm?”

I nodded. Turned the broken leaf over and over in my fingers as she held me.

“Um, tell me a story?”

Another kiss to my shoulder. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Um. I don’t know, something that makes you happy.” It still came out sounding like a question.

She drummed her fingers along my back for a few long moments while she hunted for one. “So, my mom has this dog, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“She’s a rescue, so we don’t know what breed she is, but she’s tiny. Minuscule. She’s like 8 pounds soaking wet, right?”

“Wow. Really tiny.” I watched some leaves flip around as they blew by.

“She loves the fall because, uh, my mom will rake up the leaves in the backyard into this big pile.” She wandered a cold hand into my hair, and my eyes drifted closed. Fuck, it felt good. “And she has to go barreling full speed into the pile,”—I started laughing—“like not jumping into it, she just sprints through it, and they go flying. And she’ll just do that over and over and over again, having the time of her life. And then my mom will rake them back into a pile the next day, and off she goes. It is. So fun to watch.”

“It does sound fun.” I squeezed her tighter, almost felt like we couldn’t be close enough, almost like I needed her hands on my skin. Maybe she understood, because moved her hands to either side of my neck. Stroked my throat with her thumb.

She pulled back enough to meet my gaze. “You’ll have to visit her, yeah? See Cookie running through the leaves.”

“The dog’s name is Cookie?”

“Yes. She’s teeny and she’s got sandy colored fur with some brown spots like a chocolate chip cookie. So, we named her Cookie.” She kissed my forehead. “My mom’s cool. Promise. But feel free to mull it over.”

I nodded.

Tried not to think about what meeting her mother meant for us because if I did, then it meant something horrible would follow. It always did.

[justpoliteconversations]

Morning Grind [Chain + Reader]

Adventuring is difficult. Mornings are worse.

Another one for the pile, surprisingly enough!

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

There's hair piled up in a tangled heap across your face and neck, sticky and damp where it pressed against the flushed heat of your sleep-warmed forehead and cheeks. Oily slick and grimy to the touch. Stale sweat and musk emitting an unpleasantly bitter scent right into your face (sweet too, like overly ripe apples. but unpleasant nonetheless).

The mass of bed head shifted, dragging across your drool sodden face in slow, halting jerks. A groan rasped from the lump the hair begun bundling around, and your eyes opened (sticky and crusted and deeply unhappy) to the sight of Wild turning in his sleep.

Still groggy from interrupted slumber, you stared listlessly at the man's face. Dazed and half conscious. Eyes stinging against the wet press of your (irritating) eyelids and (even more irritating) lashes.

Wild was handsome for sure. Delicate, noble-borne features crafted tenderly around a fine, bold facial structure. Plush lips, high cheekbones and a narrow chin that belied the strong jaw supporting it. And lashes for days. Perhaps the most striking of the Chain, beaten out only by Twilight (who didn't count in your opinion, because the man was a walking fur coat even when Wolfie wasn't present) and Sky (who had the pretty boy role down to an art form and managed to woo over a Goddess' incarnate with it. so he didn't count either).

None of these things caught your attention though.

No. What caught your eye (out of everything. out of all the features a man such as a Link could offer to the world) was the little red bumps lining the underside of his jaw and across one sleep flushed cheek. The ruffled little turf of brow hair twisted in the wrong direction on one side. The uneven stubble shadowing his upper lip and chin and crawling a fine line below his ears.

Your eyes lingered mindlessly on the crack (healed now, but you vaguely remembered how it'd bled and bled when it first happened) on his dry lips, and the white, flaky corners of his mouth.

His breath reeked of onion and vinegar when he breathed (open mouthed and snorting) into your squinty-eyed face. Pulling a frown to your lips as you hazily wondered why it smelt different from dinner the night before.

Wild snorted again. More vinegar and onion (and now garlic too. the garlic was what was different), and your blurry, sleep-deprived eyes narrowed in sudden realization.

You reached out (fighting the cold sting of early morning to do so. the heavy drag of fatigue), put a firm hand on Wild's shoulder and pushed him with all your might (just managing to roll him out of his bedroll).

"You sneaky little bastard! You said there wasn't any more garlic!" You huffed grumpily in betrayal, feeling naught an ounce (well, maybe just a tiny smidge) of pity as Wild whined pathetically and reached tiredly for the warmth of his covers.

Which you pulled away (spitefully). Eyes brimmed with hellfire. "Freeze to death and die, betrayer!"

A groggy groan from Wars, who was unfortunate enough to have been sleeping closest to you both last night (Wind having kept him up late the night prior as well. fitful and energetic, even in his dreams). His hands and pillow sadly unable to block the (rather heartrending) pleas for forgiveness (and his bedroll) from Wild.

At least Wind slept like the dead through it. (Ornery little sea mutt.)

Across the camp, a wild fluff of unruly blonde and pink had bolted upright at the exact same time as your indignant accusion. Wide-(and far too awake to have been sleeping)-eyed and crazed in the steep angle of his brow.

Legend pulled Hyrule upright by the front of his vest (because of course the little wildling slept fully dressed). "Rulie! I fucking knew it!"

Hyrule whined, eyes glued shut with eye gunk and nose stuffy from sleep. Weakly pulling at Legend's clutched hands. "Le~gs~. I'm ti~r~ed~."

If possible, Legend's brows took an even deeper dive. But before he could open his mouth a truly activate rant mode, he was interrupted by a very, very unhappy Sky.

"Stop yelling or I'll give you a reason to be screaming this early."

Dead quiet. The crickets begun their song once more. A bat swooped over head, just skimming the firelight's reach. The camp now a moth less than before.

A sigh of contentment, and Sky eventually drifted back to slumber (no doubt he'd forget all this next he woke).

"Goodness," Red hummed softly, just above a whisper as he chewed on his coffee (if the black, pulpy sludge could be called that). "I thought Blue woke up grumpy."

Across the fire Time chuckled, half-lidded eye watching with fond amusement as Wild finally managed to kiss ass back into your good graces (and his bedroll). And Hyrule managed to get back into Legend's by nuzzling his side and whimpering pathetically until he was forgiven and petted back into light slumber. "When we visit my Hyrule next, I'll let you meet the Beast of Lon Lon Ranch."

Red stopped chewing his coffee and blinked owlishly up at the older man (question clear in his eyes). And Time just smiled, taking a mouth full of coffee and chewing past the bitter grit and sting. Smiling mysteriously into the fire.

Only to choke a few moments later.

"It gets worse the longer you chew." Time whispered in something like horror, staring at the coffee(?) with morbid curiosity.

Red just smiled. "When Vio comes back, I'll have him brew you 'Shadow's Spite'."

Time blinked at him in disbelief, and Red just smiled (mysteriously).

And so begins another morning.

---

I retreat back to the shadows.

[sopreciouslife]

3  𝒢𝓁𝑜𝓌  𝓊𝓅  𝒯𝒾𝓅𝓈

𝟏. Hygiene: This key for any glow-up, and it doesn't have to be super extra, just the basics to stay fresh. You should be showering at least once a day, preferably at night (and if you work out in the morning, definitely shower after that). When you're in the shower, PLEASE don’t just use your hands, grab a loofah, sponge, or washcloth, anything! But hands alone? A big no. Shaving is optional, but do it as often as you need. Some girls can get away with a couple times a week, others might need to every day, it’s totally personal. Lastly, exfoliation is your everything. You only need to do it 2-3 times a week, but girl, it’ll give you that smooth skin by scrubbing away all the dead skin cells. Trust, your skin will be glowing!

𝟐. Hair: Keeping up with hair care can be such a struggle sometimes, especially depending on your hair type, but trust me, it’s 100% worth it. I’ve been through a whole hair journey myself, so I get it! There’s a ton I could say, but here’s the tea-- first, you need to know your exact hair type. This will help you figure out how often to wash it and which products will make your hair thrive. It’s all part of getting that soft, long hair faster. Oh, and don’t forget—there are certain hairstyles and cuts that are perfect for your face shape, so do a little research to find what suits you best. You’re already gorgeous, but the right cut will take it to another level! 

𝟑. SkinCare: If you're ready for that glow-up, it’s time to get serious about your skincare! Start with a bomb cleanser, something that matches your skin type (oily, dry, combo, girl... you know the drill). Exfoliate 2-3 times a week to get rid of those dead skin cells, and trust me, your skin will feel brand new. Hydration is everything, so find a moisturizer that leaves you dewy, not greasy. And don’t even think about skipping sunscreen, UV rays are NOT your bestie. Finish off with a glow serum and watch yourself literally shine. Glow up season is officially ON.

Note: This is my first post which is why I didn't make it too long. if you want me to make a post one a specific thing (or you wanna ask me a question) either dm me or ask in my inbox and ill answer! love ya <3

[deadbydangit]

Hiii! I wanted it request a story with Oni, Knight, Huntress, Trickster, and Wesker, where you set up a bath for them after a stressful trial, and then you two just have a calm bath together. Thank you in advance ❤️❤️

I can totally do that. Since my limit is three characters per post, I'm going to pick three.

Taking a bath with them

Oni, Trickster, Mastermind

Oni

He often comes back from trials stressed and wound up.

Kazan takes his job seriously.

You can suggest meditation, and he does.

But he's often too clouded in anger to sit still with his own thoughts.

When you suggested a bath?

You were surprised when he agreed to it.

He'll give you a whole history lesson on how Japanese people take baths.

A whole health thing and...

Eventually you'll stop listening.

Because he will go on and on about how wonderful Japan is.

First hurdle is finding a bathtub that will fit both of you.

Let alone him.

Once you do, the second part will be getting enough steaming hot water.

Because that's all he'll bathe in.

Some health thing.

Nothing fancy either.

He doesn't want any fancy candles or bubbles.

All he really needs is soap and water to get clean.

Expect him to want his space at first as he soaks in the bath.

Watch how his shoulders relax and the creases in his face soften.

Then you can make a move and get closer.

Again, he prefers his space.

But you can sit beside him.

He won't fall asleep in the bath.

But he certainly feels relaxed enough to.

Once the water starts to cool, he'll insist you both get out.

He won't let you get sick.

After you both dry off, he'll be a lot more willing to give and receive affection.

For once, his world is at peace.

Trickster

A bath?

"Like, a spa day?"

"Why did you ask sooner?"

And with that he'll pull out baskets full of the fanciest bath supplies.

Soaps, bubble baths, bath fizzes, spa masks, fancy lotions.

Don't forget all those fancy candles.

He even has a rubber duck that looks faintly like him.

He bought fan merch of himself.

Ji-Woon has been waiting for this moment.

He loves to spoil himself.

But getting to spoil himself with you?

Sign him up?

He knows exactly what each item does and when to use it.

Clogged pours?

"This is what you want for that."

Oily skin?

"Use this."

Just need something to unwind?

"Lavender is great for that. Pair it with this camomile mask."

He'll want you in his arms.

Your head has to be leaning on his chest.

He won't try anything though.

He's in his zen moment.

"This is the high life."

After you both dry off, he's going to show you all his different lotions.

You can tell he's really enjoying this.

Not just because he gets to pamper himself.

But because he gets to do it with you.

"Only the best for you, my dear."

Mastermind

Wesker is always wound up.

You can't remember a time when his shoulders weren't hunched forward.

Give him a break.

He has a very stressful job.

You can ask him if he wants to take a bath.

"A bath?"

"That's a waste of time dear heart."

"I'm very busy."

"I don't have time for that."

You'll either have to beg him enough till he caves.

Or, you'll have to really bring up how stressed he is and how worried you are about him.

"Fine."

"Seven minutes is all I can spare for this."

He doesn't like anything fancy.

A simple warm bath will do.

He's going to sit there, rigid, the entire time.

So you're going to have to help him.

If you really want to make him melt, massage his shoulders.

Don't be afraid to really dig into his shoulders either.

He'll melt into you.

Don't point that out though.

He'll go right back to being rigid.

Once you've got him to relax, he'll lean back against the bath.

And you better believe you'll be snuggled into his arms.

Look up.

He's actually dozed off for a moment.

This is probably the most relaxed you've ever seen him.

He's even smiling!

Don't bring that up later.

Otherwise, he'll never take another bath with you.

And he would secretly hate for that to happen.

Because he wants to do it again with you.

[cyber-dump-171]

Chapter 5: Call a doctor!

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

← Chapter 4 | Masterlist | Chapter 6 →

Word count: 6.5k.

WARNING: brief mentions of injuries, and various diseases.

Note: We're starting with Heartslabyul's arc!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You awoke while the night sky was still dark, gray clouds blending together as they covered the round silver moon. Your skin feels cold to the touch, and the tips of your fingers are numb from the freezing weather. 

As your teary eyes scan your surroundings, a vague feeling of disappointment combined with dread grips your heart. Despite everything you experienced the day before, a small voice in your brain had convinced you this was a dream. A bad nightmare, fueled by stress and sleep deprivation from your insomnia, had created this elaborate and fucked-up scenario. 

Unfortunately, the small blades of grass that prickle your back tell you that you're still trapped in this world with no way to go back to your home.

Feeling the sleepiness leave your body, you groan as the bones of your stiff back crack loudly as you stretch your arms above your head, and like a chain reaction, your movements inadvertently wake your other two roommates who were snoring soundly next to you.

Fígaro is the first to open his eyes, slowly removing his right hand that had accidentally landed on your stomach while tossing and turning in his sleep. Man, he moves a lot. While he sleepily runs a hand through his tangled locks, Yuuken rises next to him, some dry leaves and twigs stuck into his hair as he rubs his eyes using his fist. “Mornin',” he grumbles with a yawn, and you both reply with an incoherent string of words along the same greeting.

You kick off the heavy sheet; your skin feels sticky and oily from exposure to the dirt and the ungodly heat emanating from Fígaro. “Somebody has the time?” the Finnish man mutters beside you, turning to his side as he snuggles further into the pillow. Yuuken drowsily stares into the distance, ignoring the conversation. “I’ll go check,” you reply with a yawn.

Your legs feel like jelly as you get up and wobbly make your way to the Ramshackle dormitory to check the hour ticking away on the miraculously still-alive wall clock you found yesterday during your “cleaning” spree. As you grumpily open the dilapidated door, you encounter three particularly annoying faces.

“Ooooooh, good morning, child!” the chubby ghost greets you happily, the other two semi-invisible dumbasses behind him giggling annoyingly as if the prank they were playing was so hilarious. Too tired to argue with them, you push past the cold figures and squint to see the clock hands moving behind the dirty, yellowed broken glass. 4:18 a.m. Well, at this point it might be best to just start the day… you highly doubt you’ll be able to go back to sleep.

“Awwww, leaving so soon, friend? We hope you come back alive! The dust misses you,” mocking laughter echoes through the rotten walls as you leave the house without looking back, you feel something pulsing in your brain trying to give you an unnecessary headache. You’ll deal with the ghosts when you return, for now, it’s best to get a move on.

The howling wind from last night has died down to a light breeze, but the temperature has dropped considerably, as little puffs of warm steam leave your mouth with every breath you take. Judging by the dead leaves littering the ground and the bare branches, this place is either in the middle of autumn or approaching winter. 

Unfortunately, as you return to your makeshift campsite and feel the sharp wind cut against your skin, you're made painfully aware of the lack of sweaters, as your world was still in the middle of summer when you were abducted. Shivering from the cold, Yuuken steals the blanket that was lying on the ground, wrapping himself in the fabric to protect himself from the air. Fígaro doesn't seem to mind the temperature, lying in a star position while looking at the sky. 

At this point, it's best to start the morning routine.

So the three of you unanimously decide to check the “lost and found” first for any kind of warm clothing or other items that might help you get through the next few days. Since Crowley covers food and water, you suggest using your first paycheck to buy some underwear, toiletries, and maybe some cleaning supplies. You want to avoid repeating the events of the previous day and be able to sleep comfortably in a bed without worrying about bugs or dirt.

Fígaro adds, with a yawn, that to speed up the process of getting more money, it would be wise to sell any valuables you have with you, such as jewelry and watches, unless they have some sentimental value. You gently nudge the Kendo student walking sleepily beside you, pointing out the sad expression on the Finnish man's face as he stares at his decorated fingers.

Though you and Yuuken quickly intervened that he shouldn't feel pressured to sell his valuables, the blond man simply shrugged you off, having already taken off most of his jewelry except for a silver ring with a small chalcedony stone that sits on his index finger.

“Thank you for your concern, both of you, but most of these were from sponsored merchandise or gifts from acquaintances. This is the only piece that is very precious to me,” he whispers as he lovingly looks at the ring. Without much thought, you step forward and deposit any loose jewelry that you had little to no attachment to, only keeping a black leather wristwatch that you bought with your first salary.

While it hurts to sell what had been hours of part-time work, at this point surviving and seeing your family and friends are the only thoughts that drive your decision. Yuuken seems to think so too, as he drops a sterling silver thumb ring on the pile.

Fígaro stores the jewelry in a well-worn cross-body bag he found in one of the sheets the ghost had used to prank him the night before. It had seen better days, with pieces of fabric torn off in various places and several indentations on the black leather straps from stress. Although the blond man complains about the quality, he insists that it will work. He gives you a small smile before gently ushering you to continue your path.

The rest of the way is quiet, except for a few yawns and some brief but awkward banter. Back inside the huge building, you lead your two roommates to the library, remembering the twists and turns on the map you examined yesterday. 

You highly doubt that you'll be able to find so many clothes or useful materials in there, after all, the "lost and found" is usually a big cardboard box that the secretary sticks under the desk, right?

You were dead wrong.

As the friendly ghostly librarian led you through the room where the bookcases were so high you swore they touched the roof, the last thing you expected to find was a utility closet labeled “lost and found”. Even more impressive was the fact that every single shelf in there was filled to the brim with various items.

“Feel free to take anything. Most of these articles have been in here for over a year and no one has come to claim them. I'm sure you'll make good use of them!” with a cheerful farewell, the sweet ghost disappears, leaving the three of you staring at the room with open mouths and owlish eyes.

“Well then, let’s give these things a good home,” Fígaro states as your hands and fingers begin to dig through the shelves, picking out various items, examining them, and either taking them or putting them back in their place. You're able to find four sweaters in good condition that could help protect you from the cold.

You end up taking other items like a scarf, a (surprisingly) clean water bottle and a thermos, a portable sewing kit that was missing a few threads and needles, and a small fiction book. But the most valuable item of all, and the one that you could hardly believe had not been claimed by anyone to this day, was a tablet with a shabby charger attached to it.

“I call dibs!” you announce quickly before grabbing the rectangular device, feeling like a gremlin as you chuckle mischievously and eye it like a piece of gold. Yuuken lets out an “aw” behind you, disappointed that you beat him to it, while Fígaro gives you a dirty look, questioning your behavior before shaking his head with a chuckle. “I think we’re good, I don’t know what else to take,” the Kendo student mutters under his breath while doing one last look over the shelves.

“If we’re missing something, we’ll make a mental note and return here. But, we should get a move on, or else we won’t have time for breakfast,” you indicate while gazing out of a nearby window, observing as the twilight merges with the sunny colors of the sky. “Goodness… let’s first head to the showers.”

As you hurriedly leave the library, Yuuken and you exchange some jokes while Fígaro quietly laughs at your childish banter. You fail to notice a pair of green eyes curiously examining you from the dark. Again.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You’re absolutely, 100% sure that what you’re currently doing is illegal.

This has to violate some type of law, right? You're well aware that Crowley could potentially be sued for violating child labor laws, especially since even though you're 17, your parents have to sign a contract and the crow can only make you work a certain amount of hours.

Also, even though you have some first aid certifications, you don't have a medical permit to work, much less administer medication. Holy crap, you don't even have supervision! What if you screw up?

Well, the headmaster of this institution didn't give a damn, because after showing you how to work the system, he gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder and quickly left the infirmary.

You feel a little nervous as you’re left alone in the office, but you lift your spirits as you promise to do your best to take care of the students.

And here you are. The warm, bitter liquid touches your lips as your fingers type away on the tablet’s screen, opening a new email account. It's a moment of peace since you began your shift, and by God, you never imagined how reckless some students at this place could be. You expected them to be more rowdy than usual for an all-boys school, but treating over twenty different injuries in four hours is a cause for concern.

It started pretty normal, with headaches and scraped knees that weren't that big of a deal. Just some medicine and a note to rest and avoid exercise for the day. Then it went up a notch when two students in white and red suits stormed into the infirmary, holding their hands as they'd suffered first-degree burns while making tea. All that was needed was to place the reddened skin under cool water, apply and prescribe petroleum jelly, and bandage the wound.

And then it got weird. 

A boy had crashed into a tree while riding his broom and required help removing the splinters. Then, two students were suffering from the effects of a faulty spell and needed to be prescribed a special concoction (thank whatever deity for the digital medical encyclopedia installed in the infirmary's computer). Another student was accidentally turned into a monster during a fight, and you had to subdue the creature until the spell wore off.

And now, you're currently dealing with a person who has contracted "fisherman’s fever" from a failed experiment performed in potionology class.

The device in your hand vibrates as a shrill but catchy tune plays over the speakers, indicating the timer is up. You place the dark green ceramic coffee mug that has the cringeworthy inscription "Adulting is hard AF" on the white desk and take a look at the potion brewing in the glass pot. 

According to the medical encyclopedia, to treat the disease, the scales that appear on the person's skin must be delicately removed using a sharp object. Then, to cure the internal effects such as the transformation of human blood into cold blood and the appearance of gills, the person must drink a special tea made with a bizarre combination of ingredients three times a day for a week. 

You sigh softly, the scent of mint and mandrake permeating the air as the rays of the morning sun stream in through the window, adding some color to the gray infirmary. As your weary eyes watch a series of hot bubbles appear and quickly burst at the inner corners of the pot, you grab the metallic spatula spoon and carefully stir the liquid, which has taken on a muted cyan hue. A voice behind you coughs, drawing your attention, but you keep your gaze on the tea.

“Is he going to be okay?” the student's friend, whose name you learned is Kyle Blackwood, asks from the side of the bed, worried eyes watching his friend's tanned skin turn an awful shade of pale green. 

After straining and then pouring the scalding liquid into a ceramic mug, you approach the stiff bed, avoiding the metal bucket on the side with the remnants of the shiny green scales you removed with a scalpel nearly half an hour ago. You softly nudge the shoulder of Hyde Sage, the sick student, to wake him up from his stupor. 

“He'll be fine so long as he doesn't skip his tea. If he gets worse, like his skin turning blue or you see some gills on the side of his neck, take him to a hospital,” you indicate with a stern tone, hoping that the threat of a hospital visit might scare the first year into not skipping the medicine. 

Unfortunately, the rumor that you and your roommates are magicless people spread faster than you had expected, as such, some of the students you had attended decided to disobey your instructions, refuting under their breath that what would you know, being from another world and without magic.

You are grateful for your interactions with customer service that you gained from your many part-time jobs. Despite being bad and even traumatic memories, you learned quite a lot on how to deal with stubborn people. This was no exception; instead of giving in to the anger or being intimidated by their comments and mocking grimaces, you kept a neutral expression and listed all the possible side effects of what would happen if they didn’t get their injuries or sickness treated.

Of course, you never lied, after all a small wound can develop into a catastrophic disease. It worked most of the time, their faces turning pale at the large list of infections and illnesses, and they quickly snatched the medicine from your hands, consuming it as fast as they could before they exited the office. Some quietly thanked you, others didn’t say anything. 

Other times, when they were particularly argumentative, they were scolded by friends or classmates who brought them into the infirmary, telling them to shut up and just take the pills. You silently thanked them with a small smile, and they returned the gesture with a nod.

As you place the mug on a nearby table, both Hyde and Kyle let out a gasp as their eyes widen at your words. Still, many of the students are relatively nice or are too preoccupied with schoolwork to bother you or deny the treatment, such as the two teenagers sitting in front of you. Sensing their distress, you shake your head, gently patting Hyde's shoulder to ease their panic slightly.

“Don’t worry, it’s a worst-case scenario. Your fever has gone down, and your skin is starting to return to its normal color. Just, make sure to not skip the tea,” your lukewarm fingers gently press against the student’s forehead, a sigh of relief slips past your lips as you feel the earlier fever has subsided. Your free arm slides under his back and pushes, silently instructing him to sit up.

Kyle jumps at the opportunity to help him up as well, fluffing up the pillows and tucking them behind his back to make him more comfortable. As you hand the freshman the hot cup and tell him to be careful, you chuckle to yourself as you watch his nose scrunch up at the strong smell. “Bottom’s up, bud. Unless you want to become a fish.”

Hearing your words, he panics momentarily before judgmentally staring at the rather viscous liquid and bringing it close to his lips. As soon as a drop sneaks past his open mouth and lands on his tongue, Hyde physically recoils, a shiver shakes his shoulders and makes his skin crawl. He almost places the mug down in disgust, but pushes forward, remembering how much a trip to the hospital costs. Kyle gingerly pats his back as a sign of support and comfort.

Meanwhile, you return to the desk, moving your attention to the enormous metal cabinet that houses a variety of pills and medicines. You crouch down and open the compartment underneath, the door sliding open with a loud, unpleasant squeak, giving way to rows of glass bottles of various sizes and other medical paraphernalia.

Your fingers brush gently against the various containers as you calculate how much liquid is left in the pot. After a few seconds of mental calculations and the clatter of glass, you successfully locate and pull out a bottle to store the remaining tea; your ears perk up as you hear the clink of a ceramic object on a table and the rustle of sheets and clothing.

In one swift movement, you uncork the bottle, place the strainer over the opening, and begin to pour the liquid into it with ease. You unconsciously hold your breath as all of your mental concentration is focused on avoiding spilling as much as possible, although a few drops do escape and gently run down the side of the crystal. Two pairs of footsteps approach you as the last few drops of the tea land inside the bottle.

“This should give you 7-8 cups of tea. Drink it at a temperature of 65°C and don't let it cool down, it will lose its effects,” you screw the cap on as tightly as you can to avoid spills and turn around, running into the two students. Hyde's complexion looks much better, and a small smile is now appearing on his face instead of a terrified expression.

Gently, you hand him the bottle and your free hand grabs two small notes you wrote while the tea was boiling. One has a checklist written in blue ink, while the other is a more formal sheet of paper. "Here are the instructions on how to make the tea and this is your excuse to skip the rest of your classes today, deliver it to the headmaster. Then, return to your dorm, set the alarms for your tea, and try to rest today to regain your energy."

Both students nod eagerly at your instructions, gently taking away the notes from your tired hands. You’re relieved to see Hyde in a much better condition than when he arrived, remembering Kyle's panicked yells as he dragged him to the infirmary office. He was limp and couldn’t stop shivering, his skin was clammy and his eyes were constantly rolling to the back of his head. As you dismiss both of them, you’re taken aback when the two of them suddenly bow with big, happy smiles on their faces.

“T-Thank you very much, Mx. (Y/N)!” you scratch your head sheepishly at the way Hyde addresses you, not expecting such a reaction. “Don’t mention it… just doing my job. Also,  (Y/N)’s fine. No need to be so formal,” the two return to their original positions before nodding merrily. As they walk towards the door, they wave again, the crimson and yellow ribbons tied to their left arms fluttering slightly as they move.

Soon, the door to the infirmary closes softly, and the office is plunged into a comfortable silence as the footsteps and lively conversation of the Scarabian students fade into the distance. You sigh as you lazily throw yourself onto the swivel chair, which creaks loudly under the sudden weight, and bring your fingers to massage the temples of your forehead.

‘That should be patient number #21… I better fill out the form and get to cleaning if I want to finish opening my accounts.’

Your hands land on the gray keyboard that sits in front of you, several of the letters blurred or missing, showing the constant use of the device. The monitor comes to life as you move the mouse, the cursor hovering over the “+” symbol and opening a new window, displaying an empty patient form. Without wasting a second, your fingers tap out different combinations, forming words to fill the empty boxes.

Time passes; outside, the birds chirp a happy tune and the clouds dance in the sky as you click the “Send” button and a message appears on the screen informing you that the form has been successfully accepted. As you stretch your arms over your head, your bones cracking stiffly, the rectangular device that’s been sitting idle for nearly an hour vibrates and the screen turns on to reveal a new notification.

Beyond satisfying your dire need to consume technology and geek content, the tablet is a key factor in your survival. In an unfamiliar world, where you don't know its customs, let alone its politics, the most important thing you need to do is nourish yourself with information on how to navigate this new labyrinth. Therefore, the moment you reset your device to its factory settings, you opened several accounts on various social media sites.

Strangely enough, many of the sites looked like bootleg copies of the ones you had back at home, right down to the bizarre similar yet different names. You almost burst out laughing when the words “MagiCam” appeared on the screen, immediately understanding what the application should be about. Thankfully, this also meant that you'd be able to navigate it much more easily since the UI was the same as Instagram’s.

In the brief respites of peace you’ve had during your turn, you’ve also understood a little more about how Twisted Wonderland works. Feeling calmer now that you know more about Night Raven College and the island where it resides, you then examined the world map and learned about the various continents of this world and who inhabits them.

You’ve also started to delve deeper into the magic of this world, but the concept still feels rather foreign and confusing, so, you’ve decided to wait until you’re in a calmer environment to pay closer attention to the details. Still, in your opinion, you’ve made good progress, and you make a mental note to share this information with your new roommates when you reconvene at lunch or later in the day.

You throw your head back, and the upper half of your body languidly lies against the chair's comically small backrest. You still feel a bit sore from yesterday's events, even after taking a hot (almost boiling) shower and replicating some of Yuuken's stretches. It also doesn't help that you've been running around for most of the morning.

You're tired... you want to go home.

As you stare blankly at the false ceiling, your mind wanders to the dark places you tried to avoid yesterday...

Will you ever be able to go home? Are your parents okay? Is Momoko okay? How long have you been gone? Does time pass differently here than it does in your world?

... Are you actually dead? This world feels so real, but you can't help but wonder…

Thought after thought flashes through your mind, as the earlier feeling of dread comes back with a biting force, stabbing at your stomach and tearing at your brain, making you feel sick. “Stop,” you silently beg to yourself, wanting the cursed string of detrimental questions to just end. And yet, your inner self continues to produce more and more, completely ignoring your desperate pleas. 

Fortunately, you don't get to lose yourself for long as you're jolted awake by a hasty banging on the door to the infirmary. It startled you so much that you nearly fell out of the chair, the tip of your shoe smacking against the underside of the desk, followed by the clanking of glass, reminding you of the dirty dishes you didn’t wash. “D-Doors open!” you stammer with a shaky, feeling your heart pounding against your chest as you wobble out of the chair.

In a matter of seconds, the door opens, and a familiar man with orange hair peers in, his eyes widening in surprise as they fall on your figure. You instantly remember him from the entrance ceremony, a phantom feeling of warmth still lingers on your shoulder. 

“The fu-!? H-Hey! Long time no see~!” he attempts to mask his shock with a cheerful tone before opening the door further and standing awkwardly at the entrance. “Um… do you know when the nurse is coming back?”

Without saying a word, you raise your right hand and point your thumb at yourself, swaying slightly back and forth, making the lab coat you wear over your navy blue sweater rustle. “I’m the temporary nurse. Do you need help with something?” even though his face is one of happiness, you notice that he is nervous due to his pale complexion and a slight tremor in his hands.

“O-Oh… Cool! Uh…” the orange-haired man stutters, sticking his head out of the room once more and whispering unintelligible words to someone standing outside. The exchange continues for a few more seconds, each one more confusing. Finally, with a frustrated groan, he returns and opens the door wider. “Sorry for that! We need a consultation!”

A bit weirded out by his behavior, you silently point toward one of the beds, ushering him to enter the room. You hope this consultation will be fast. As he opens the door wider and signals for the other person to come in, you turn around back to the computer and quickly open an application that pulls out a screen showcasing the list of all the students of Night Raven College. 

As a precaution, before you can do a consultation or even prescribe medication, you must ensure the student isn’t allergic to any specific ingredients, takes some type of chronic medication, or has any important medical history. That way, you avoid any mishaps and save yourself a possible heart attack and a phone call to the hospital. Thankfully, the school has a nifty medical system that allows you to check for these kinds of things, all you need is a name or ID number.

Behind you, the shuffling of feet and the hushed voices weirded you out even more. ‘What’s up with the secrecy?’ Ah well, time is precious, and you want this consultation to be over quickly, so there’s no point in beating around the bush. With your gaze still focused on the screen, you click on the search bar and speak to the people. “Alright, what’s the name of the patient?”

As the question leaves your lips, a tense silence follows. You suddenly don’t dare to turn around, an uneasy feeling settles itself in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the answers. As the clock on the wall quietly ticks away the seconds that feel like minutes, somebody finally clears their throat and speaks. “Uh… Riddle Rosehearts.” 

An eerily familiar voice speaks out, and you promptly turn around to watch a guy with green hair and glasses enter the room, a small and thin arm slung around his broad shoulders. And you feel the world fall apart and tear itself at its core as a head of red hair wobbles beside him, gray, piercing eyes turning to observe, widening at your figure before a recognizable scowl etches at his face.

"What in the Seven's name are you doing here?" fucking great, the last person you wanted to see, the tiny tyrant has come back to torment you again. Was the yelling match of yesterday’s night not enough for him? You take a deep breath, repeating to yourself that you won’t win showing your annoyance; you need to be a professional. Instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, maintaining an apathetic expression.

"Beats me, dude. Ask the crow man, not me," as you quickly type in his name into the application, Riddle scoffs as he’s helped to walk further into the room. "Do not address the headmaster in such a way. Have you not been taught to respect your superiors?" you roll your eyes at his comment, focusing more on his medical profile as he settles in one of the beds. Good, everything seems in order.

You don’t waste much time, reaching over to one of the desk drawers and pulling out a black bag containing a diagnostic kit and a clipboard with an empty consultation form. “I have, thank you very much. But I find it justifiable to insult the man who thought it was a good idea to stick me and the other two inside a dilapidated house,” you reply, slightly irritated as you place the stethoscope around your neck and head over to the bed.

The orange-haired man, whose eyes were intently focused on his phone’s screen, suddenly perks up at the mention of the house. “What!? Are you living in Ramshackle? I thought they were going to demolish that thing,” he mumbles the last part sheepishly as you pull a chair over to where the three men are standing.

The green-haired guy perks up at the name of the dormitory, his worried eyes suddenly landing on you. “How did your night go there?” you glance away from the prying eyes, scratching your cheek as you remember how stiff your back still is. “Awful, we ended up sleeping outside… Anyways, what's up? What are we dealing with?” although the orange-haired man seems more interested in hearing about your night, Riddle interrupts the conversation with a sharp cough.

“I'm completely fine. I just contracted a simple cold,” he remarks nonchalantly, covering his mouth with a gloved fist. However, even though the boy tries to pretend that he's fine, you notice that his chest moves up and down rather quickly, his cheeks are also slightly flushed, and small beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his face.

‘Difficulty breathing... I can cross out asthma, anemia, and anaphylaxis since his allergy chart is clear. A common cold wouldn't have him panting this way unless he overexerted himself with a clogged nose... Hmmm, it could be some kind of respiratory infection, but I need more details…’

Before you can intervene, however, the green-haired man shoots a glare at the housewarden as he angrily crosses his arms, his pose resembling a mother scolding her child. “A simple cold? Riddle, you were puking your guts out just a few minutes ago and you can barely walk!” he reprimands with a frown, and the redhead simply clicks his tongue in frustration. “As I said, I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle.”

You jot down your observations and the glasses man's comments on the clipboard, nodding quietly as your brow furrows. “Besides the vomiting and shortness of breath,” — you feel slightly insulted as you notice Riddle’s eyes monetarily widen in surprise at your last observation. Man, he thinks you’re not capable, huh? — “Are you feeling any discomfort or other symptoms?” at your question, the housewarden ponders for a few seconds before his hand drops from his mouth. “Just a stomach ache.”

“Is the pain mild or severe?” the man shakes his head, placing a hand on his abdomen to indicate the source of the disturbance. ‘I can also rule out hepatitis at the moment. Seems to be from the core.’ “In between,” you simply hum at his response as you take more notes. “When did the symptoms start?” you finally raise your head to meet him, taking notice that he has difficulty keeping his eyes open.

He takes a deep breath and a hand shoots up to massage his temples. As you’re about to recommend he lays down on the bed and you’re three steps away from dialing Mr. Crewel, he speaks. “A-About two… no, one hour ago. I just feel dizzy. I’m fine,” he keeps repeating the last sentence as if to reassure the people in the room, but honestly, it makes you more nervous.

“Well, it might be a stomach bug rather than a cold. I’ll check your vitals before we move to treatment,” you announce before standing up and silently motioning for Riddle to remove his blazer. As you put on the earpieces of the stethoscope, his shaky and clammy hands pull off the piece of cloth, the glasses man stepping in to help. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t ask for your names.”

The orange-haired man jumps at the opportunity, flashing you a dashing smile as he holds up two fingers to his face, forming a peace sign. “Hey, hey! I’m Cater Diamond, but you can call me Cay-Cay!” he announces cheerfully, winking in your direction. ‘Well, what a charmer.’ You make a mental note not to call him that nickname, you'll just stick with Cater.

You simply wave back as you take a seat in front of Riddle and look in the direction of the green-haired man, who nods at you. “Trey Clover, vice housewarden of Heartslabyul. Good to meet you,” he replies as he flashes a small smile, though his gaze shifts to worry as he looks back at Riddle. An annoyed cough from the tiny tyrant interrupts your greeting. 

“If we’re done with idle chatter, I would like to get out of here and return to my duties as soon as possible,” he grumbles as you simply roll your eyes and adjust the stethoscope. “Alright, alright. Take a deep breath,” you command in a toneless voice as you hook a finger around the collar of his shirt and harshly pull down, revealing a patch of milky skin. 

A furious blush spreads across Riddle's cheeks as he short circuits for a second, a million thoughts racing through his mind as he feels your lukewarm fingers poking at his chest. He finally comes down to earth as he feels the cold nip at his exposed skin and he swears he feels on fire. “W-What’s wrong with you!? A-A warning would’ve been nice!” he shouts, almost slapping your hand away if it wasn’t for the glare you threw him back. 

“Damn, you go, Riddle, getting some action,” Cater quietly giggles as he covers his Cheshire grin using his phone, which causes the housewarden’s face to turn even redder. “Shut it! Say a word of this and I’ll have your head!” the orange hair chokes on his laugh at the last words of the red hair. All of a sudden, the preppy attitude of the man is drained alongside the color from his face, instead, it’s replaced with an awkward laugh as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck.

‘What the hell is that reaction?’ Sure, the phrase elicits a rather daunting reaction from anyone who hears it, but, to pale at such words? That’s quite suspicious, but you frankly don’t want to stick your nose in the business of people who are already aggressive to strangers, especially when it comes to the tiny tyrant. You also don’t have the energy to bother, unless it becomes a bigger issue. 

“My bad, sorry. But, you need to calm down or else I won’t be able to measure your heart rate,” you retort between your teeth, drawing Riddle's attention back to you. “Calm down!? Easier said than done! Are you even sure you know what you’re doing?” his booming voice does nothing but irritate you as you tighten your grip on the stethoscope. “Yes, I do. Now, shut up and let me do my job.”

About to respond angrily to your comment when he's stopped by a warm hand patting his shoulder, Trey giving him a small smile as the cold chest piece of the stethoscope touches his skin. The housewarden reluctantly agrees and gives you a nod. “Take a deep breath,” you instruct again in a low voice, listening carefully to Riddle's worryingly slow heartbeats. Each time you hear a “thump”, you draw a line on the clipboard resting on your leg, mentally counting up to fifteen; the entire room holds its breath as you remove the device after a while, your lips tightening as the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach returns with a vengeance.

‘Only 14 beats… this is bad,’ you swallow dryly as you waste no time calculating his heart rate, multiplying the number of beats by four and silently thanking your 12-year-old self for choosing first aid classes over rowing at summer camp. Unfortunately, the fleeting feeling of accomplishment soon fades, replaced by anxiety as you watch the number from the equation over and over again. “Holy shit…”

“Is everything alright?” you accidentally ignore Trey's worried voice, too consumed in your panic, as you run back to the computer and check Riddle's medical profile again. Again, he has no hereditary diseases or disorders, and his allergy chart is empty and clear. His normal heart rate, listed under his blood type, shows he has 75 beats per minute, so why the hell did your calculations show his current heart rate is 58 bpm? That's below average!

‘Is it bradycardia? It could be that he just developed it, but that doesn’t explain the vomiting or rapid breathing… Perhaps he has arrhythmia? Did I make a mistake in my calculations?’ you turn around to address the trio, wincing as you observe a powerful shiver shake Riddle’s body. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t have the proper resources, much less the adequate experience to deal with this.’

The red-haired man irritates you, his attitude is obnoxious, but there’s no way you’re letting him die here. “I’m calling an ambulance. Riddle’s heart rate is worryingly low and his conditioning is worsening. He needs professional attention.” 

The three men's eyes widen in pure surprise, the shock is so severe for Riddle that he starts coughing loudly, the green-haired man next to him jumps in fright at the sound, but quickly concentrates on calming him down, gently patting and rubbing his back.

Cater reacts the fastest, shaking his phone with a pale face as he looks at you, terrified. "I'll call them!" he types restlessly on the keypad as you approach the bed to help Riddle get comfortable and calm his reaction. 

But strangely, before Cater can even press the call button, a hand shoots up from the bed and rips the phone out of the orange-haired man's hands, causing him to choke on air, startled by the sudden movement.

It was Riddle.

“NO! I’M NOT TAKING ONE STEP IN THERE! I’M COMPLETELY FINE!”

… Huh?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Tag list:

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[erimeows]

Caretaker

Roy feels unsure as he holds his fist up to the wooden door of Riza’s apartment, his gloved hand hovering over the center. In his other hand, a bag from Panda House- her favorite takeout spot- dangles from his fingers. The pleasant aroma of egg drop soup and grilled chicken wafts faintly from the bag, but it’s no comfort against the growing unease curling in his stomach.

Roy knows that, for a long time, their relationship has been far from strictly professional. Riza is his closest confidant and his best friend. So, when he was told earlier that morning that she had called in sick- a rarity in the many years they’ve spent working together- he knew he couldn’t just ignore it. 

Throughout the lonely work day, he convinced himself it would only be right to drop by her apartment after his shift at eastern headquarters ended to check in on her and make sure she’s still able to eat well. Now that he’s here, food in hand, dressed in a t-shirt and joggers, he’s unsure of whether or not this is what he should be doing with his evening.

He hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet hallway to make sure that no one is watching him. It’s getting late, and the thought of someone seeing him here tugs at the corner of his mind. Fraternization laws loom over him and his feelings for his subordinate like an ever-present shadow, but the worry fades as quickly as it arrives. He’s not here for anything improper. He’s here because she matters to him; because there’s no one left to look after her. 

Still, he hesitates, because while he knows he could handle anyone else’s reaction to this, he’s not so sure about his ability to handle Riza’s. Riza is fiercely guarded, even with him. He’s seen her face battlefields without so much as a flinch, always calm, always composed. Vulnerability isn’t something she shows easily- not even to him- not in a very long time. Will she be mad at him for dropping by like this unannounced when he knows she’s going to be at her worst? She had to have been doing awful this morning to call in. 

After standing in front of her door for an embarrassingly long few minutes, Roy figures that, even if she is upset at him for showing up while she’s sick, the comfort of knowing she’s okay will be worth whatever she can throw at him. So, Roy knocks on the door. Black Hayate immediately starts yapping- behind the door, Roy hears the sound of his tiny footsteps followed by the sound of his paws scratching at the door, but Riza still doesn’t answer. 

The seconds stretch painfully long. He glances at his watch, watching the second hand tick once, twice, thrice. A full two minutes pass, and he begins to think she’s either asleep or too unwell to answer. Just as he steps back to leave, the door creaks open.

“Lieutenant,” He greets, his voice coming out a little softer than he intended for it to.

“Sir,” Riza addresses him formally even though they’re alone, a habit that Roy suspects will never die- and, quite frankly, she looks like shit. 

Her once neat, golden blond hair is frizzy and oily, loosely tied into a messy ponytail to keep it away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed a hot pink while the rest of her face is sickly pale, and her forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She’s wearing an oversized button up and a pair of baggy pajama pants. Whether she’s embarrassed or surprised, Roy isn’t sure, but she hides most of her body behind the door upon realizing that it’s him, peeking her head out to analyze his expression with her tired eyes. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as Black Hayate slips out the door to sit at his feet and sniff his legs. 

“Did something happen?” She questions, her voice hoarse and dry as she changes the subject from her unfortunate condition. “Why are you here?”

“It’s unlike you to call in sick, lieutenant, that’s all,” Roy answers before she can worry too much. Though it would be just their luck for an emergency to happen on the one day she calls in, today was actually pretty normal, if not boring. He notes the slight tension in her brow, the way her lips press together as if suppressing an apology for being unwell. “I thought I should come check on you.”

“Right,” Riza clears her throat, wincing at the strain of the action. It’s evident that the action is painful. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, sir, I’m just fine. I’ll be back in tomorrow or the next day, so you don’t need to worry about finding coverage for me again-”

“You are not coming back to work tomorrow,” Roy interjects, able to see just how sick she is. “You have to rest at home to get better. Coming into the office like this will only make you sick for longer.”

“But sir, I’m alright,” Riza tries to argue, but while Roy would normally entertain it, he doesn’t this time.

“Clearly not,” He argues back, shaking his head and placing a hand on the outside doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

“What? This place is a mess-” 

“I don’t care,” Roy walks past the door and into Riza’s small apartment, taking his boots off at the entryway and leaving them beside the row of shoes lined up beside Riza’s welcome mat. Black Hayate follows him closely. He shuts the door, locking it behind him, and tries his best to ignore the way Riza is rushing around to pick up the apartment; a stack of papers on the coffee table in the living room, a discarded pair of panties and a large t-shirt off of the floor. He can’t, however, ignore the sound of running water in the kitchen. He enters the room to see that the sink is full of soapy water and about to overflow. That must’ve been why she took so long to answer the door. “Were you… Doing dishes?”

“Yes,” Riza calls out, and then follows him into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re cleaning when you’re this sick,” Roy chastises and reaches forward to turn off the faucet before it can overflow onto the counter and floor. “Have you even eaten anything?”

“No,” Riza shakes her head and takes the bag of food from Roy’s hands, setting it on the kitchen table. “I tried this morning, but I wasn’t able to keep anything down.”

“How about water?” Roy questions, to which Riza grimaces. 

“Not much luck there either. In fact, trying to drink water only made it worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“...I suppose so,” Riza shrugs, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to the doctor to get checked out after I called in this morning. He gave me some medicine to take; anti-nausea and some pain meds. He said it’s just a stomach bug that’s been going around and that I should be fine within a couple days.”

“You should’ve called me personally to let me know…”

“It’s not as if I’m dying.”

And instead of saying ‘I still worry about you’ like he wants to, Roy says-

“Sit down and try to eat some of the food I brought. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“Sir, you really don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“You. Are. Sick. Sit down- that’s an order, lieutenant.”

Riza smiles and rolls her eyes at him, but sits down at the kitchen table and unpacks the food. 

“Hopefully this anti-nausea my doctor prescribed has kicked in. I’m starving,” Riza hums and opens the bowl of egg drop soup, picking at it with a plastic spoon. Roy takes off his gloves, pocketing them before grabbing a sponge and beginning to wash the dirty dishes. “How was work today?”

“Boring. The office felt so… Empty without you there,” Roy admits, thinking back to the workday. When Falman told him that Riza would be absent, his heart had dropped and shattered into tiny little pieces within his chest in a way that he didn’t know it could. The day was painfully boring without Riza to talk to. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“My day’s been rather boring as well, so unless you want to hear about the gruesome details of me being hunched over my toilet bowl…”

“Right,” Roy laughs. “What should we talk about instead, then?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Riza responds. “I enjoy your company as is.”

“Right…” 

So, they stay in Riza’s kitchen, silent besides the sounds of the scrub being brushed against Riza’s dishes and gentle slurp of Riza drinking her soup. When Roy finishes washing the dishes, he dries them off and puts them away in Riza’s kitchen cabinets before sitting down at the table with her to eat his food.

Something about this is so… Domestic, from his shoes being left behind at her door, to him being able to wash her dishes, to them sitting alone at her kitchen table like this on a regular evening, eating together with Black Hayate napping between them on the floor.

They eat in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional cough from Riza or the rustle of a napkin. The air feels warm and easy despite Riza’s condition. As Roy watches her pick at her soup, he feels a pang of something he can’t quite name. A longing, maybe. Or perhaps gratitude- for moments like this, fleeting but meaningful. 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Riza murmurs after a while. “You checked on me like you wanted. I’m sure you have better things to do with your evening, so whenever you want to go...”

Roy leans back in his chair, watching as Riza’s expression shifts with something he’s not used to seeing; uncertainty. This, he decides, is where he belongs tonight.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Roy replies, meeting her gaze. “You look like you could use a caretaker for the night, anyway.”

Riza raises an eyebrow at that.

“What, like you’re going to stay the night here?”

“Why not? No one saw me come in,” Roy shrugs. “I’ll clean the rest of the house, pick up more medicine if you need it, hold your hair for you while you puke… You know, the romantic stuff.”

“Well, if you insist… I guess I wouldn’t mind your company.”

“It’s settled, then.”

~

After cleaning up the kitchen and finishing their quiet meal, the evening wears on, and the fatigue etched into Riza’s face grows more pronounced. Roy glances at his watch. It’s late, and the unspoken question of what happens next hangs heavy in the air.

Riza stands from where they’re sitting on the living room couch and reaches into the small paper bag on the coffee table to pull out two pill bottles. She opens them both, fishing out a tablet from each and taking them with a sip of water. There’s a slight nervous energy in the air that Roy can’t quite shake. 

“You should go get some rest,” He says, breaking the silence. “I’ll be here.”

Riza crosses her arms, leaning against the back of the chair. 

“You don’t really plan on sleeping on the couch, do you?” She asks.

“Unless you’d rather me on the floor,” He teases.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to fit on that couch, and you know it.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Roy shrugs, waving off her concern. “I can handle one night on the couch.”

“I didn’t let you stay with the intention of you leaving with a back injury,” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness in it that allows no argument. She looks toward her bedroom door and then back at him, hesitating before speaking. “You can sleep in the bed.”

He blinks. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed while you’re sick. That’s just evil.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you do,” She replies, holding his gaze. Her cheeks flush slightly- whether from fever or embarrassment, he’s not sure. “It’s big enough for two. And it’s not like this is the first time we’ve been close.”

Roy stares at her, caught somewhere between disbelief and something warmer. He opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. She’s right, and probably not in the mood to argue with him while she’s ill. Still, the idea of sharing her bed feels… Intimate in a way he isn’t sure he’s prepared for. They slept together in a tent a handful of times in Ishval, but that was… Different. There, they were wartorn and desperate for comfort and Roy’s only other option was rooming with Solf J. Kimblee. Here, they’re in Riza’s apartment and Roy could turn around and go home to his own bed if he really wanted to. 

“Alright,” He agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Riza answers simply, already heading toward the bedroom.

Roy follows her, glancing around her room as he steps inside. It’s a bit of a mess, which he expects after having seen the rest of her apartment today. There’s a few personal touches- books stacked on the nightstand and a small framed photo of her and Black Hayate on the wall make it feel distinctively hers. She grabs an extra pillow from her closet, fluffs it, and tosses it onto the bed.

“You take the left,” She says, climbing into the right side and pulling the blanket over herself. Black Hayate pads into the room, hops onto the bed, and curls up against the small of Riza’s back. “Goodnight, sir.”

Roy chuckles softly as he settles in beside her, keeping a careful distance. 

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the faint hum of traffic outside and Riza’s steady breathing. Despite his initial unease about this, Roy feels a strange sense of calm. The day’s worries slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being close to her.

~

Hours later, the calm shatters.

Roy wakes to the sound of retching; something loud and painful and so not Riza that it fills his chest with a pang of concern. He bolts upright, disoriented for a moment, before realizing the bed beside him is empty. The muffled sound of vomiting comes from the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

“Riza,” He calls before he can think better of it, slipping out of bed and moving quickly toward the noise. They’re past the point of formal titles 24/7, though he doubts she heard him regardless. “You okay?”

Roy reaches the bathroom and knocks on the door once, then twice. When Riza doesn’t answer, he goes ahead and opens it. He finds her hunched over the toilet, her hands gripping the edge of the bowl as she dry-heaves miserably. The sight tugs at his chest.

“Roy,” Riza groans. The toilet bowl is full of remnants of their dinner mixed with stomach acid and water. Beside it is a flurry of used tissues, covered in spit and vomit. “Go back to bed.”

Roy shakes his head, kneeling down beside her as she retches again. With one hand, he rubs her back, and with the other, he holds her hair away from her face. 

“Hey,” He says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She shakes her head, but she’s too weak to really protest. The effort she’s putting into just staying upright is heartbreaking.

When the worst of it passes, Riza slumps back against the bathroom wall, her eyes glassy and tired. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Roy says firmly, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet and running it under cool water. He kneels in front of her, pressing the damp cloth to her forehead. “You can’t control this.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation. 

“This is humiliating.”

“It’s not. You’d do the same for me,” He counters. “You’re sick, Riza. Let me help. You’re not going to get better all by yourself.”

Hesitantly, Riza agrees.

“...Okay.”

Roy stands, filling a glass of water and crouching beside her again. 

“Try to drink a little.”

She grimaces but takes a small sip, grim determination written across her face. When it stays down, she sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” Riza’s lips quirk upward faintly, but exhaustion quickly overtakes her. Roy helps her to her feet, steadying her as they shuffle back to the bedroom. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Roy shakes his head as he tucks her back into bed, climbing in beside her.

“I know… But I wanted to.”

“Well… Thank you.”

“Any time,” He smiles. “Now, let’s go back to sleep. Unlike you, I still have to go to work in the morning.”

Surprisingly enough, Riza turns to face Roy, scooting closer to him. Roy moves a couple inches forward, and then a couple more. Before either of them have the time to think about the consequences, Roy wraps his arms around Riza to pull her even closer, allowing her to snuggle up against his chest. 

“Goodnight,” She says. 

“Goodnight, Riza.”

[charliemwrites]

could we please get some sweet Gaz fluff/comfort like scientist is too exhausted to shower after a long day so Gaz joins her and cleans her instead, washing her hair, etc while she stands there half asleep

Yes I can! I think this is something that happens often for them.

(Also - not that you’ve offended me or anything - but I’ve been using ‘they’ for the researcher out of inclusivity. That said! If you see researcher/yourself with she/her pronouns, that’s so so valid. I’ll just be a writing using they/them)

They’ve been awake for going on 29? 30? Hours. Too long. Way too long. Gaz couldn’t even pull them away because it was a big project that the brass was putting a lot of pressure on getting down. Final tests are finished now though, and he’s finally able to pry them away from the lab.

He takes them to their room, wishes he could just send them to bed right away. But they’re covered in gun powder, ash, pen ink, metal dust and..,, he shudders to think of what else. But they’ll need to bathe before climbing in. They hate feeling dirty when they wake up.

“Tired,” they groan, leaning into him.

“I know, chickadee. Just this last thing…”

Getting them to their tiny bathroom is its own struggle but they look genuinely miserable about trying to clean themselves up. Gaz scritches a hand through their oily, dirty hair.

“You mind if I help?”

They look up at him with stars in their eyes. “Please do.”

He’s careful and respectful as he strips them down, half holding them up as they lean into him. He gets the water right and carefully guides them in. Lets them get their footing, then strips himself down.

They make grabby hands at him, plaster themselves to his front with a happy little sigh. “Tired,” they mumble again.

“I know, luv,” he replies, “almost down.”

They’re blessedly pliant as he soaps their hair and scrubs them down. Usually showers are a perfunctory thing they do as quickly as possible to get to the next thing - either sleep or more work (or sometimes private time with Gaz). Right now, though, he’s able to take a little extra time to press his thumbs into the tense muscles of their neck, the tired tendons in their clever hands, the exhausted muscles in their lower back.

They make little sleepy noises of appreciation, eyes barely open as they nearly slip off him. Gaz doesn’t even bother with himself. All he’s down the last two days is stand nearby and try to remind them to eat and drink. All the brushing up against him that they’re doing is plenty.

They stir a bit when the water turns off, mumbling his name.

“‘S alright chickadee,” he murmurs, helping them out. “Just gotta get you dried off.”

They hum, rub at their overworked eyes. “You staying?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Mhmm.”

He gently buffers them dry, drops kisses here and there while they sway on their feet. Good enough, he thinks when they start to list to the side.

He tucks them in together, lets them burrow in against his side and wrap their limbs around his.

“Love you, Ky,” the mumble.

His heart skips. “Love you too.”

[nyxvamps]

Aphrodite Children:

Are actually some of the most welcoming, accepting people you will ever meet

Their mother is the goddess of love. Why wouldn't they want to bring people into their circle and expand friend groups?

Are some of the first to correct others when they use the wrong name or pronouns, especially if it’s done on purpose.

Give compliments and praise freely as making others feel loved and appreciated is one of their favorite things

Get along very well with their roman siblings

Again. Goddess of love. Familial love is still love.

Always gives very good relationship advice.

Even when they are horrible at their own relationships, they can give good advice that actually works to anyone else.

Are those people who can look so effortlessly beautiful.

The light always looks good

Very photogenic

Speaking of beauty. Many of them can be considered more ‘unconventionally’ beautiful by the standards of the usa.

Many ethnic features (eyes, nose, lips, chins, body hair, etc)

Acne scars or active acne

Large birthmarks, vitiligo, other skin conditions,

Tooth gaps, crooked teeth,

Freckles taking up 80% of the skin

Chubby and fat bodies

Etc

Their hair is always healthy

Cutting, bleaching, and dyeing don't effect the hair

Never gets overly dry or too oily for the hair type

Always cooperates when you try out a new hairstyle.

Etc

Everyone has a beauty mark on their face

Many have a monroe

Some have the penny proud

Some have the stile stilinski.

Everyones got one

Some, depending on how their Mama was feeling at the time, can be born with siren characteristics.

This can be some water type powers or having scales or sharper teeth

Some have charmspeak but much more potent. Even just humming can make someone listen. And it can manipulate objects to. Not just people and animals.

These siblings like to call themselves, mother’s monsters. Alluding to how lady gaga is called mother monster.

All of them have at least a decent singing voice

None of them can be called a bad singer

If they don't sound ‘good’ they either have that solid, stable sound like older artists or the good technical way of singing people do nowadays.

Some are literally so good at singing its stupid of them not to try to get into a musical career.

All of them have her smile. If you didn't know whose kid they were, the second they smiled you’d know.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - A Dirty Joke - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi entertains Silco's guests.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Tip Jar

Snippet:

"Pet," Silco says. "Why aren't you eating?"

His tone is mild, but his scrutiny is an open flame. Vi feels her nerves withering under its heat.

"I—" She swallows, and her throat clicks dry. "I'm not hungry."

"Tsk, child. Don't tell lies."

"I'm not."

"No?" He breaks apart a heel of bread. Fragrant steam plumes. With a knife, he smooths a thick dollop of butter over the top. "In the Freljords, they feed liars to the wolves, did you know? I've never witnessed the spectacle myself. But I'm told it is grotesque. All screams and snapping jaws and red, red snow."

The butter, glistening in the blacklight, is pale gold. The crust's aroma is a blend of roasted wheat and malt.

"In Zaun, we are more pragmatic. A poor man's belly knows no lies. No matter how many he tries to swallow." The knife, with rhythmic precision, spreads the butter.  "The truth, in the end, will always out."

He extends the bread.

"Go on," he says. "Eat."

Their eyes lock. The silence is an indigestible overload. The air's long since disappeared into the lungs of the guests. All else is being devoured by the voracity of their appetites.

Vi can feel their eyes on her. But if their malice is no secret, at least it is silent.

Silco has no such reserve.

"Eat," he repeats, and now, his smile is the knife. "Or it'll be the wolves."

Vi's jaw grinds. Fury is a bolus too tough to swallow. Silco likes his theater the way he likes his meals: served on a knife's edge. Like all connoisseurs of cruelty, he knows the ways it can be carved to make the meat bleed.

And Vi, his Pet, is the toughest cut of all.

Her scowls, and backtalk, and the way she goes for the jugular—it only whets his appetite. It makes her more worthy of his blade, his art, his time.

Except Vi refuses to be cowed, even if the steel's at her throat.

Holding his stare, Vi takes a bite. Her teeth snap inches from his fingers. The bread's so soft it practically melts in her mouth. The butter's sinfully rich. She chews, unable to taste either. Her eyes remain fixed on Silco's. Heavy wavelengths of challenge ripple between them.

From him, the pleasure of witnessing her pride swallowed.

From her, the promise that she'll still take him for everything he's got.

The underbosses, riveted by the scene, have the sense to keep straightfaced. But there's an oily film of schadenfreude simmering to the surface. One of them has the gall to laugh, a short bark. The syllables—"Dumb bitch"—are barely smothered.

Silco's head swivels.

The shark-eye is bright. The good one's gone dark. Both slice, slowly, over the ranks of chagrined faces, before bullseyeing on the worm who dared to squirm.

"Something funny?" he says. "Uzi?"

Uzi, fork halfway to his mouth, goes beet-red. 

"Ah, uh—no, sir," he says. "I was, um—thinkin' of a joke."

"Ah, a joke. Let's hear it, then."

Uzi's face goes ruddier.

"No? Need to collect your thoughts?" Silco raps his knuckles on the tabletop. The echo fills the room like a gunshot.  Conversation stutters to a halt. "A moment's silence, please. Uzi has a joke to share."

Sweat pearls Uzi's brow. His eyes dart back and forth.

"I, ah," he begins. "It's—"

"Take your time," Silco says, and Vi is reminded of the way Vander's voice would soften with a mockery of care. "What's the punchline?"

The silence climbs to a tinnitus pitch. Uzi sits strangled by the noose of his own making. Nobody intercedes. In that moment, life hangs solely in the balance of the Eye's judgment.

For a moment, Vi feels a frisson of vindication:

Good. Let the asshole roast.

But empathy, like the guilt, is never far behind.

"I think," she says, "I know the joke."

Silco favors her with the barest turn of his head.

"Do you?" he says. "By all means."

The underbosses, with a synchronized intake of breath, brace themselves. The silence deepens from tinnitus to gravedirt.

Vi, pulse fluttering, summons a smile.

"It's an old one," she says. "But it still kills." 

She focuses on the audience. The memory, dredged from simpler days, sparks an unexpected warmth in her gut.

"Okay," she says. "So three miners—one man, two women, and a donkey—are stuck in a cave-in. They're running low on air.  So the first lady says to the man, 'Hey, any idea how to get out of this mess?' And the man says, "Sure! I’d be happy to tell you. But the payment's a blowjob.' First lady says, 'What the fuck? We're running out of air!' And the man says, 'Exactly. Wouldn't you rather die a hero?'" She pauses, and there's a stirring of grins from the guests. "First lady thinks about it for a moment. Finally she goes, 'All right, fine. But I'll do one blowjob for both of us girls.'  So she goes to town, and when she's done, she says, 'There. Now tell me how to get out of here.' And the man says, 'Sure', and whispers into her ear. She climbs out, and poof, she's gone. Second lady's pissed. She goes, 'Hey, how do I get out of this mess?' And the man goes, 'I'll tell you, but the payment's a blowjob. Just don't tell the first lady.'"

The underbosses break into chuckles.

Silco's mouth holds a microscopic curl at the corner. His eyes are unreadable.

"What then?" he says.

Vi hazards on: "Second lady goes, "What the fuck? We're running out of air!' And the man says, 'Exactly. Wouldn't you rather die a hero?' Second lady's desperate, but not dumb. She says, 'I'm not giving blowjobs. But I'll eat ass.' The man says, 'Deal.'  So she goes to town. When it's done, she says, 'All right, tell me how I get out of here?' And the man goes, 'Sure', and whispers into her ear. She climbs out, and poof, she's gone. Then it's just the man trapped with the donkey. He waits and waits and waits. And then..."

A silence follows, during which she says nothing. The underbosses' smiles falter, unsure if it's a punchline, or the setup for a bigger climax. They wait for the final beat to land.

It never does.

Silco breaks the silence. The microscopic curl blooms into a fine-cut smile.

"And then," he concludes, "the man dies. Because the only way out was to blow his donkey."

"Or," Vi adds, "eat his ass."

The table erupts into laughter. The underbosses, bellowing, bang on the tabletop. Chuckling, Sevika tips her glass in a toast.  Even Uzi musters an off-key guffaw. He is still caught in the noose, but the knot's loosened. 

"So, what?" he says, trying to salvage face. "If he'd done the nasty with the donkey, he'd have lived?"

"I'd tell you," Vi says. "But the payment's a blowjob."

The underbosses, in one voice, go "Ooooohhhh!"  Their laughter scales up. A collective catharsis opens the room's lungs. It's the closest, Vi thinks, Zaun gets to camaraderie. A dirty joke, a shared meal, and the satisfaction of the body's basest drives well-met.

Silco, too, seems sated. The shark-eye's hungry glint had faded. For a heartbeat, the monster seems subdued by the man.

A man Vi swears she recognizes, buried somewhere beneath the scars.

A man who knew the joke all along, and let her tell it.

In memory of Vander, and the better stories lost to time. 

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.