#trial by fire academy

[chiinferno]

Gordon Outfits

Just a little update on Gordon. While writing, I was inspired to design a formal wear suit for him, and it cascaded into me solidifying his design concepts across the series

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

1: LONGING

Masterlist > Chapter 2

Summary: You were born into HYDRA, it wasn't a choice you were offered. The Winter Soldier is thrust into your care and you realize there is more to him than meets the eye.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x HYDRA!reader, Bucky Barnes x HYDRA!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: SMUT: guided masturbation— If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

Being born into a HYDRA legacy family was a burden you never asked to bear, a responsibility thrust upon you from the moment you took your first breath. Try as you might, you could never fully escape the dark shadow cast by your family's ties to the sinister organization, its tendrils snaking through every facet of society. No matter how hard you fought, HYDRA's grip was inescapable. As a child, you were shipped off to the HYDRA Preparatory Academy nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains, where you were indoctrinated in the group's twisted ideology and forced to endure the bitterness of the unforgiving winters - a trial by fire meant to temper your resolve.

Yet, despite HYDRA's best efforts to mold you into a loyal, unquestioning soldier, your sympathetic and tender nature refused to be extinguished. This inherent compassion led you down an unlikely path, guiding you towards a nurturing profession that eventually landed you in the frozen tundra of Siberia. Here, you and two colleagues were tasked with attending to a single HYDRA asset, expected to provide the organization with your complete and unwavering dedication. It was a duty you were well-trained to fulfill, for you were the type who gave your all to every task, driven by an unyielding desire to do good in the world, one person at a time. No matter the personal cost, you would fulfill your obligations to the best of your abilities, driven by a sense of duty that spoke louder than the icy winds that howled outside your door.

You reported to Karpov. He was a ruthless man. He marched you into a room with a leather bound red book in his hand.

“Stay,” he barked at you.

Karpov's gravelly voice then laid bare your new mission; to cater to the asset's every need, to attend to the most minute details of the Winter Soldier's care. From the mundane tasks of washing and grooming him, to tending to his injuries or indulging his wildest desires, you were to be wholly devoted to his well being. The weight of this responsibility settled upon you as you silently nodded, your mind racing with the implications of this assignment.

Suddenly, the ominous sound of a door creaking open pierced the tense silence, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as the infamous Winter Soldier strode into the room, his heavy footfalls echoing with each step. Towering before you, the living embodiment of HYDRA's ruthless efficiency, you could scarcely believe that this legendary operative was now your charge. His history of unparalleled skill and merciless brutality was the stuff of whispered legends, and now you were tasked with catering to his every need. In that moment, the gravity of your mission became painfully clear, and you steeled your resolve, prepared to serve the asset with unwavering dedication.

He was your mission.

“Soldat has just been woken from the cryostasis chamber. Ensure he is ready for his mission in 24 hours.”

As you stood before the soldier, his vacant yet handsome features captivated you. His eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, seemed to gaze through you rather than at you, leaving you transfixed by the paradox of his striking appearance and unsettling detachment. You found yourself utterly enraptured, unable to look away from this enigmatic figure, your awe manifesting in a stunned silence. It was in this moment of captivation that Karpov, observing your reaction, must have mistaken your rapt fascination for fear. Sensing your unease, he swiftly moved to reassure you, his words cutting through the heavy silence that had enveloped the space between you.��

“He will not hurt you. He will comply,” he said before leaving you alone with the beast before you.

After a few moments of staring at Soldat, his gaze flicked down to meet yours. His ocean blue eyes seemed to soften slightly as they surveyed your form. They raked their way over your appearance with an emotion you couldn't quite identify. His face was still a blank slate but the pale blue windows into his soul betrayed the fire that blazed deep down inside him. 

“Soldat?” you whispered, unsure of how to address your new ward.

Immediately his attention was focused on your face, his gaze boring into yours. “Gotov soblyudat' (ready to comply).” His response was barely a breath.

You surveyed your charge with curiosity, walking around him slowly, taking in his appearance. From the way his unwashed hair stuck to his scalp and his unevenly trimmed bangs obscured his eyes like a sheepdog, down to his dirt covered boots. The higher powers of the agency hadn’t even seen it fit to grace the soldier with the dignity of clean clothes before they had placed him back into the stasis chamber. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and a quiet ‘tsk’ left your mouth before you looked back into his surprisingly handsome face. You had never been this close to an asset before and you were shocked by his natural beauty. There was an irresistible pull inside you and you found yourself reaching out to sweep the hair from his eyes, your thumb brushing over his well defined cheek smearing the black camouflage paint over his face.

“We need to get you cleaned up, Soldat.” You turned and made your way over to the dresser on the side of the room that you knew contained clean clothes and towels.

Despite your back being to the soldier, you could feel his stare following you around the room. He didn’t make a sound, just watching as you moved around collecting different items. Unbeknownst to you, the Winter Soldier was suffering from an internal quandary. For the first time in many years, his body was behaving in a way that hadn't been ordered, but it was still out of his control.

His attention was drawn to the unique features of your face, tracing the smooth curves of your waist, right down to the fullness of your ass in the tailored scrubs that hugged your figure in a rather erotic manner. It was always a conscious choice you made, dressing in a way that highlighted your assets. It helped you get noticed in a world full of sadistic, testosterone driven egomaniacs who otherwise wouldn’t lift a finger to help you or those in your care. Your form and bearing were definitely getting you noticed today, not that you’d had a chance to see it.

You handed him a towel and waited for him to move. But the soldier’s only move was to accept your offering, waiting on you for further instruction. The intensity of his stare was unnerving, almost like he could see into your soul. For a moment, you wondered who he had been before, before HYDRA had made him. There was a fire behind those blue eyes, maybe his dreams weren’t as empty as his conscience seemed to be. You lost yourself in contemplation for a moment, admiring the allure of his majestic form, seemingly unaware of the way his presence warmed your body.

“Soldat!” you exclaimed, shaking yourself out of your reverie. Suddenly you remembered the task at hand, not wanting to be caught slacking your duties on the first day of your assignment. “Go and take a shower.”

You watched him comply, traipsing into the adjoining room without closing the door, stopping short of the glass cubicle. He hesitated before stepping inside, fully clothed.

“Stop!” you cried with exasperation, following him without thinking. “You need to take off your clothes first.”

He looked at you with an unfathomable expression and you felt a pang of guilt for your tone. “Take off your clothes first,” you repeated in a more gentle voice. “Before you get in the shower.”

Slowly, Soldat held out the towel gripped in his titanium arm and you accepted. His stillness made you wonder if he even knew what to do next. Did he need more specific instruction? Or were you going to have to undress him yourself? The thought made you blush slightly. This had never come up in the job description. Not that you would object seeing him without clothing. Just as you opened your mouth, he brought his right hand up to his chest.

You watched him undo the fastenings on the vest covering his torso. His biceps bulged with his actions and you wondered if he felt the cold when he slept. It made your heart contract with an unexpected sadness.

Winter shed his layers one at a time as you watched with a burning curiosity. The leather around him unraveling to reveal his chiseled abs and lithe torso. The tiniest gasp escaped your lips as he undid the zipper on his pants, burying his thumbs under the seam to push them down. You averted your gaze as he pushed them to the floor unabashedly. He stood up, frowning with confusion at your reaction. Dignity wasn’t a luxury he had been offered for the last half century and he didn’t understand it.

Seeing you flush made him feel something foreign. It wasn't new, but it wasn't familiar. Like a dim distant memory of a life unlived. It awakened a part of him that they considered to be long dead. Passion. If you hadn’t turned away, you would have noticed how his body reacted to you. His impressive girth swelled and lengthened in response to your presence. Desire. But as he entered the shower, his arousal remained unseen by you. 

“Turn on the water,” you instructed. It finally occurred to you that maybe he needed more detailed instruction, like a complex computer programme. You’d seen how other handlers had kept soldiers as blank slates with electric stimulation targeted at the hippocampus. It suppressed their ability to recall memories and your Soldat had only just been wiped, immediately after being woken from stasis. It made sense that he was befuddled by his handler’s actions.

“Make sure the water isn’t too hot or too cold,” you added, listening for him to adjust the taps.

You closed your eyes, picturing his actions in your mind’s eye, resisting the urge to look over your shoulder to take a peek. It was the lack of change in sound that got your attention. The sound of water falling against his body didn’t seem to be changing in the way you expected of someone who was attempting to clean themselves. There was nothing else for you to do but to look.

If your life was a cartoon, your eyes would have been popping out of your head before falling to the floor and rolling around like golf balls. You wanted to trace the well defined contours of his toned back, eyes settling on where flesh met metal, following the branching scars that spread out like a mycelial network, leaching their poison into his sturdy form. You bit your lower lip to stop a soft whimper escaping when you finally dragged your eyes down to look at his firm ass.

Maybe he could sense the ferocity of your stare, or maybe he caught the soft sound of your stimulation, but he turned around to face you. And as he did so, you became aware of his soldier, standing tall and ready for attention. You were caught off guard by the gargantuan signs of his arousal, not having considered the man before you as anything other than an asset. But here he stood, before you, giving you a full view of his humanity, the passion that resided within. His state was more than just a mere physical response. The asset that you’d been assigned wasn’t just the empty shell of someone who had once been a man, there was still someone behind those cold blue eyes.

“Do you understand what you need to do, Soldat?” you asked, feeling flustered by the situation you had found yourself in.

He nodded and you took this as a cue for you to leave, turning to drape his towel over the nearest hook, you took a step towards the door. Except-

“Ostavat'sya.” (Stay)

There was such a raspiness to his voice, that it was a wonder you even understood the word. Your Russian wasn't as fluent as you would have liked it to be. There was definitely more behind those blue eyes than you had been led to believe. There was more to your job that you'd initially expected. Karpov’s words rang in your ears from earlier. The asset’s every need. The longer you spent with him, the more you noticed that he was coming to life. The emptiness you’d seen when he had stepped into the room had given way to something new, something intense. It was that intensity which drew you in, that made you seek out a connection, that made you feel bold. Bold enough to speak up.

You weren’t exactly shy, there was no room for that in HYDRA. But you were more reserved than the other men and women you’d trained with. You would often let your suitors come to you rather than seek them out. Today though, you were in control.

“Do you need some help with that, Soldat?” you purred.

The Winter Soldier didn’t answer but you saw the ways his eyes became darker, pupils dilated and his breath came faster with anticipation.

“What is it, Soldat? Are you expecting me to do that for you?”

He looked back at you, fire dancing in his eyes. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, ghosting over his stunning lips before giving you a hint of a smirk.

“Do you speak?” you demanded, accepting your dominating role.

“Da.” (yes)

“Do you speak English?” you wondered out loud. Your language skills were not quite as sharp as some of your others. Russian was not your strong suit.

“If you want me to.” The husky tone of his voice made you swoon and your core tingle.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Put your hand on it,” you commanded. 

With a firm, authoritative tone, you commanded him to comply, leaving him no choice but to obey. The moment his warm, calloused hand made contact with the sensitive skin of his shaft, a jolt of electric pleasure shot through him, igniting a burning desire within. Wrapping his fingers around his impressive, throbbing length, he could feel the blood pulsing through his veins as his breath quickened into short, shallow pants. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alight with sensation. He was rock hard now, aching to be touched, to be stimulated further. Your words had elicited a visceral reaction, and as you wondered what it would feel like to have that rigid, engorged member buried deep inside you, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. The very thought of him filling you, stretching you, driving you wild with ecstasy was enough to make your core throb with need. You yearned to find out firsthand just how incredible it would feel, to experience the full, throbbing weight of him inside your most intimate depths. 

“Squeeze.” You ordered and he complied. He would gladly obey you, he was under your spell. His hand tightened around himself, eliciting a low groan. The constriction made his hips jerked involuntarily, making his dick slide through his calloused digits. It was the most salacious sound you'd heard in a long time and you wondered if he would come right then. “Slowly,” you warned.

The blood flow to his cock seemed to have woken his brain as well and he started to take his own initiative. He slid a finger through the small bit of precum dripping from the slit and spread it over the head. You watched as he did as you instructed, running his fist up and down his slick cock.

“That's right. Up and down, loosen on up and tighten going down.”

Your mouth was practically watering, as you pushed away the urge to kneel down and take him into your own mouth. Your front teeth bit down on your lower lip to suppress a whimper as you watched his balls rise up with each stroke. You pondered for a moment before deciding that they needed their own attention. 

“Use your other hand.” You pointed in an instructive way. 

The soldier looked down to where your finger was aimed, at the shining titanium prosthetic they had mercilessly fused to his skin. He started lifting his metal palm as you asked, always ready to comply. But something in his face changed. It was subtle, but you could sense the disgust of what you had asked of him. What did he think of the gift that HYDRA had given him?

“No?”

He slowed his pumping to answer you. “Net… no.”

“Fine.” You had never been cruel. Your job was care. “Carry on.”

His eyes flicked back up to yours in an unasked question. Did he want something more? Did you dare ask for something you weren't sure you were ready for?

You watched your soldier, studying his expressions as he pleasured himself. Attention to detail had always been your strong point, reading the flickers of emotions on people's faces and how they told their untold stories, things they wished to keep undisclosed. It wasn’t just his face that told you that he was close to coming undone.

He had increased the speed of his movements, his eyes half closed, his spine arched and pelvis thrusted forwards into his hand, almost mindless in his lust and uncaring of his audience. His reckless abandon seemed to defy all your preconceptions for the Winter Soldier. Everything you had heard about him came down to control, and here he stood before you lost in an almost animalistic appetite with no thought or concern of judgment. You were taken aback by the vulnerability he showed in front of you, sharing this intimate part of him, you’d never seen any documentation of this sort of behavior from an asset before. It felt exhilarating and your body responded to it in kind.

You could feel your arousal pooling between your legs and you pushed your thighs together in an attempt to quell the feeling, only succeeding in creating a thrilling friction that sent a shock through your body. It was instinctive. You reached out, slipping a finger under the rugged ridge of his chin, gently tiling his face up towards yours. As his gaze met yours, his eyes widened, blazing with a mixture of lust and surprise. The blues of his irises had vanished completely, his eyes blackened completely by desire. A low guttural sound came from his throat. Then you understood, he wanted your permission to let go. So you gave it to him.

“Do it. Cum.”

You shivered as his eyes lost their focus, you watched as his cock throbbed expectantly. Your breath shuddered along with his as he made a mess, his cock spurting out what looked like a river of pent up seed, painting the tiles of the shabby bathroom. Your eyes widened as lewd moans fell off his lips in the most sinful manner as he pumped himself as the last and strongest wave of pleasure engulfed him. Goosebumps erupted across your flesh as a shiver traveled down your spine as you watched his jaw slacken and his member soften. He finally looked back up at you.

“Spasibo.” (Thank you) His hoarse voice was barely audible.

“That's quite a mess you've made, Soldat. I hope you aren't expecting me to clean you up.” You turned around and left him to his own devices. 

You tinkered around with his uniform, checking the fastening and leather harness that he usually wore. Waiting for him to return to you. You knew he would and he did. In silence, he followed your instructions, let you dry his hair and paint his face, finally tightening his belt. Just in time as Karpov unceremoniously stormed into the room.

“Soldat!” He pointed at the door, indicating for the asset to move out.

Your heart shattered into pieces, hearing the cruel tone he had used when addressing the Winter Soldier. Your instinctual response was to defend your asset, but you knew better than to go up against Karpov. He would only take your protest as an excuse to punish the soldier.

With one last look, he lowered his head and whispered. “Do svidaniya, Kotyonok.” (Goodbye, Kitten)

Masterlist > Chapter 2

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 62

While looking back on her adventures, an older Susan reflected that by Gallifreyan standards she had just been a baby and that the First Doctor had been an adolescent. (Audio: Here There Be Monsters)

Some Gallifreyans can fly. The Third Doctor took to flying for a while after he learned how to out of a book. (Comic: Levitation)

The Eighth Doctor has such sharp reflexes that he can use a pistol to shoot bullets out of the air. (Novel: Trading Futures)

The Twelfth Doctor once made a sonic spoon when he was locked in The Prison (on a trumped up charge.) (Novel: The Blood Cell)

Autumn Tace was head of astronomy at one of the most impressive observatories ever. She had feelings for Adric but ended up being seriously injured while saving Nyssa and Tegan. She died in Adric's arms. The Fifth Doctor had to explain to Adric that he cannot go back in time and change this because it was part of established events. (Audio: The Star Men)

The Fifth Doctor's sonic screwdriver and a vial full of plague virus survived the Great Fire of London. It eventually comes into the possession of Deakin, someone who collects alien technology, in the 21st century in a Mayan temple in Belize. Deakin mentioned that sonic screwdrivers were not incredibly unique as the Doctor has lost so many over the years. Indeed, he also knew of the Tenth Doctor's sonic screwdriver, abandoned in a hospital. (Audio: The Tactics of Defeat)

Indeed, a damaged sonic screwdriver was also found in Leadworth, eventually making it to San Juan. UNIT had sent Charlie Sato to collect it, but the Eighth Doctor claimed it and threw it in a drawer in his TARDIS. (Audio: The Turn of the Screw)

Gallifreyan blood contains temporal platelets, allowing them to recover from injuries much faster than humans do. (Audio: The Bride of Peladon)

When the TARDIS is in Artron II Recharge Mode, other people (but especially humans) cannot be inside. The Thirteenth Doctor remembered that doing so caused David Bowie's eye to become dilated. (Short story: Press Play)

There is a box-room on the TARDIS full of boxes of objects the Doctor has collected. The Sixth Doctor once found a spaceship full of refugees in his box-room after the TARDIS must have materialized around them at some point. (Comic: Exodus)

The Old High Gallifreyan alphabet is actually called the 'omegabet.' (Novel: The Gallifrey Chronicles)

At one point, Gallifrey had a third moon called Botoya. Inside this moon, there was a device capable of rewriting history dramatically; thus, the moon was hidden. It became a legend on Gallifrey. (Audio: The End of the Beginning)

While at the Academy, the Doctor kept a poster of Marcella Retaxus, a reverse fusion engineer and singer, on his dorm room wall. (Audio: Time in Office)

Socra, a member of the Celestial Intervention Agency who took part in the Second Doctor's trial, helped decide to send the Third Doctor in search of the Doomsday Weapon, and was present for the First Omega Crisis, was eaten alive by one of the Rani's giant rodents. (Short story: The Legacy of Gallifrey).

One time, Nyssa was captured and experimented on. They gave her anesthetics, cut her open, and sewed crystals of anti-matter into her stomach. She turned into an anti-woman (an anti-matter monster with red eyes.) This procedure left a scar on her abdomen. (Novel: Zeta Major)

First 1 Prev 61 Next 63

[nevertheless-moving]

james t kirk walking through the enterprise for his FIRST OFFICIAL ENTERPRISE ASSIGNMENT (his first real (temporary) commission on the ENTERPRISE! baby boy's dream job! second time on this fancy deck EVER!) losing his absolute mind like is this. a thing. that ships do. and no one told me? at ANY point in The Academy??? Or is it just the flagship? I mean they ARE the best, so maybe Pike's on to something? Was that energy pulse a signal? Damn the choreography is impressive — yeah, I suppose I can see this being helpful for emergency drills, or at least morale... and it's just like being on an old Earth ship, which you have to admire. I wonder if they do historic shanties too! Wow! Commander Una really can do anything, is her vocal range also enhanced? Asking is almost definitely a microaggression, come on Jim, be better. ok, it's gotta be just the Enterprise, Farragut never... except, our command officers are somewhat considered killjoys? Maybe its like how some ship cultures tend more pants over skants? no, someone would have told me before now if this was a normal crew activity. But if it's not standard, how is everyone in such perfect harmony that's GOT to take serious practice. Unless its like an old school hazing, trial by fire deal... then I can't be the only one out of the loop on this. Oh shit, what if it's — oh good God I should have taken a music elective — Gary told me straight to my face that my course load was too narrow on command, my career councilor even said that I could benefit from more arts in my schedule! FUCK! They must have taught this in one of those easy credit intro to federation music seminars and everyone who looks at my file knows I'm an uncultured idiot who — oh I am also singing. huh. right yes of course the lyrics are acknowledging the oddity of... guess there's some pathogen or anomaly — thank the lord i haven't been missing something major for — wait no, being compelled to sing in unison is also a problem—

[sieveyourtea]

100th fic on A03

I don't plan on posting it until after the Born Archivist finale is up, but in the meantime...what do you think I should write for my hundredth fic?

Vote! And reblog if you like!

[yakool-foolio]

gundham for the ask game?? i lov him

GUNDHAM GODDAMN TANAKA MY FIRST LOVE IN DANGANRONPA

Favorite thing about him: His dialect is sososo fun and interesting to analyze. I think he's the main reason I became so obsessed with analyzing and making up my own canon compliant dialect for Vivia. Gundham sparked that fire of dissecting metaphors n analogies and translating them to better understand his behavior and how he conveys his thoughts and feelings through speech. It's incredibly entertaining to write for him, so much so that about two years ago I made my own ask blog for him being in Dead By Daylight's universe. Gotta combine the brainrots of the time somehow.

Least favorite thing about him: Out of all the members of the Ultimate Despair, Gundham feels the least likely to ever end up on their side. It has just never sat right with me that he would fall into despair that easily in the anime, especially since he fought so hard against it in the game. I understand that Chiaki meant a lot to her classmates, but her death doesn't feel like the straw that should break the camel's back for Gundham, notably because he's the one who will literally fight to the death to revive everyone else's morale. The anime is a guilty pleasure of mine, but I refuse to believe that he'd give in to despair that easy. I like his Ultimate Despair design though, it's rad. Too bad we only get to see it once.

Favorite line: He has soooooooooo many iconic and fantastic lines it's not fair to choose one, but I will restrain myself just this once. "Because I, the one who has claimed dominion over evil, am the Ultimate Weapon! I am he who cuts the insolent catalyst which flows out from the chaos with the sword of victory… It's only fitting that I deserve to be called the Ultimate Weapon…!" The fact that he called himself the Ultimate Weapon because he utilized the funhouse's secret after he discovered it in order to kill Nekomaru HURTS REAL BAD. He planted hints to him being the culprit throughout the entire trial because it was never his intent to get away with his murder at all, especially since he fully expected to be the victim himself. He and Nekomaru sacrificed themselves so that the others could live on. I cry.

BROTP: Gundham and Gonta are such a sweet duo in UTDP and Summer, they deserve so many more interactions. They get to exchange their love of all different types of animals with each other until they're walking National Geographic magazines.

OTP: SONDAM! They match each other's dorkiness to a T. Autumn is their season and nobody can take it away from them. Horror movie dates are always a pleasure. They're obnoxious talkers in the theaters, but I'd let them ramble to their heart's content.

NOTP: I'm the type of person who's chill with a lotta different pairings if the shipper(s) make it work. However, one pair I can never imagine being romantically involved is Gundham and Hiyoko. He doesn't give two shits about her bullying him for his eccentrics, but he definitely greatly disapproves of her abuse toward animals. She's trying to better herself post-game, but it'll definitely take a while for her misdeeds to be forgiven by Gundham and they can work toward being on friendly terms.

Random headcanon: Due to isolating himself from others, Gundham never really took the time to question his romantic orientation. That is, until he was accepted into Hope's Peak Academy and was surrounded by other students. He swiftly came to terms with his romantics towards certain people, as sparse as he shows it. Nekomaru and Sonia definitely pushed those unknown feelings into deeper consideration, as he admittedly crushed on both of them at some point and has ultimately fallen for Sonia. He fights with himself every now and then over his feelings, but overall he views his orientation as simply natural, unchanged by time. In regards to his asexuality, he occasionally makes comments to conceal his distaste for raunchy things and attempt to fit in, pushed into doing so by his insecurities, but he recognizes its his true nature to abstain from such desires. Intimacy is romantic for him, and that's all that it has to be for him to be happy.

Unpopular opinion: I have no idea if any of my thoughts could really be classified as unpopular, but I'll toss something unusual out. Connecting to what I've stated earlier, I wish Gundham was shown fighting back more against the brainwashing in the anime. If they had the time, it'd be interesting to see the absolute extremes Junko would have to go through to crush Gundham's unwavering spirit. We could get real dark by having his mom killed in front of him. This forces him to accept that without her, only nature is on his side now, as humanity is beyond saving and what he's committing as an Ultimate Despair is a mercy killing.

Song(s) I associate with him: Kyrie by Mr. Mister cause the angelic imagery makes me sob profusely aughhhh... Eighth Wonder by Lemon Demon and When You Die by MGMT are runner-ups!

Favorite picture of him: This art piece I was gifted as part of a Silent Hill Tumblr Mutuals discord server's Secret Santa, featuring Gundham n Carmina/The Artist from Dead By Daylight, who I made ask blogs for and so deeply love imagining being the bestest of buds!

[lively-potter]

— trials of athena ; one

— genre ; enemies to lovers, kinda slow burn, friends to lovers

— warnings ; a hella lot of cursing, some typos ( of course 🙄😬 ), mature themes, smut, athena doesn’t like feelings, fluff, smut, angst, some violence, a teeny bit of blood and gore, JK’s a dick fr

— intro, teaser

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— 2024 © LivelyPotter

— word count ; 2.2k

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— chapter one ; THE FUCKENING

♡

MAY 21st, 2023 EIGHT AM

Today is going to be shit – or at least I came to that conclusion once I realized my day was suspiciously going a little too well.

For one, my family's all happy that we finally have a new neighbor (Mom's cooking up a feast already), my dad Sean finally got a day off (for the first time in what feels like forever), and my other dad Owen finally agreed to allow me to stay at the house on my own (For god's sake, I was nineteen years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself).

I was confident I wouldn't burn the house down...well as long as I didn't step a toe inside the kitchen.

I inherited my father's gifts, you could say.

I cringed, thinking of the last incident when Mom allowed Dad and I inside the kitchen, unsupervised.

By that time, the entire fire department knew us by name.

Plus, it was Monday (of all days) and you know that saying, 'Happy Monday – let the fuckening commence'.

So yeah, my hopes were now low, and my guard was up.

"Mom," I snickered, "I may act as like I know everything, but I really don't."

My mom, Sang rolled her eyes – an amused grin on her lips as she placed the final touches on her big ass welcome basket. My dad Sean grinned brightly and pressed a kiss to her cheek once he sauntered inside the kitchen.

"Mornin' smartass." Dad lit up the spacious kitchen with his laughter when I swatted his hand out of my hair, that happened to be the exact same shade and texture as his. As in I got his unruly, nappy curls. I gingerly touched my hair, praying he didn't mess it up.

I loathed frizzy hair.

Dad chuckled lowly and pressed a kiss to the top of my curls, "Where's the others?" he asked Mom, pulling out a chair and taking a seat beside me. Mom ran a hand over her chameleon-colored hair and smiled.

"They all left an hour ago to run errands before the trip."

I was left in my own world as Mom and Dad discussed their trip with the others. They were leaving for a couple months to travel around Europe, while also doing a couple of missions for the academy. I, on the other hand, would finally know what it's like to be on my own. Not completely, of course (Gran and Gramps lived across the street), but close enough to where I would have to be independent for a while.

My ears perked up when I heard Mom ask Dad about the new neighbor.

"There's not much to know about him, really." Dad said around a mouthful of his pancakes. My face scrunched in disgust as a piece flew out of his mouth.

"Manners, dude." I put in, laughing. Dad rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at me.

Mom sighed at our banter and shook her head, "What is there to know about him?"

I loved my mom dearly, but she sure was nosey sometimes.

Dad shrugged, "The Johnsons down the street say he's not really approachable, but Liddy Johnson—"

"Linda's daughter?" Mom asked, receiving a nod.

"The very same – well Linda and Joe said Liddy's absolutely infatuated by the man, says this JK dude is the 'hottest man' she's ever seen." He snickered, "The girl has been walking up and down the street hoping to bump into him again."

Huh, that explains why I've been seeing that girl outside so much today.

Mom's eyebrow rose, "Well," she hummed, standing to her feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of her shirt, "Athena?" she said suddenly, a little too sweetly.

I drew back slightly, "...yeah?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing her distrustfully.

What does she have planned this time?

Mom looked like the picture of innocence as she took the basket into arms and set it down in front of me. "I'm entrusting you to take this to our new neighbor."

Uh, what?

"Huh?" I asked dumbly, index finger pointed towards my body.

Mom and Dad traded amused glances, "Yes, you." Mom said decisively. My eyebrows shot up, near my hairline (yes, that's how far they shot up).

"Why me?" I asked, "I don't like new people." And not to mention, I usually make a fool of myself in front of strangers without meaning to.

Mom rolled her eyes, "You have to go out and make friends somehow, Athena...And maybe even a boyfriend. Liddy says he's cute." She wiggled her brows suggestively. My face dropped, along with my shoulders.

"Liddy Johnson thinks any male that makes direct eye contact with her is cute." I spoke. Dad's hand shot up to his mouth to hide his snicker.

"I'm sure that's not true," Mom huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Wanna bet?" I raised a brow, Mom matched my expression and nodded.

"Fine; you remember Jake Roberts?" Mom grimaced instantly, thinking of Greg's (one of her old schoolmates) son. "Well, then I won't have to explain the whole story...but I will say this..." I sighed, "His face gives me nightmares to this day." I cringed, thinking of him hitting on me at one of Lindy's parties back in high school.

"Fine," She sighed, "you have a point. But still, give it a chance. You'll never know if you don't do it. Please?" she said, cradling my face in her hands.

My resolve slowly crumbled, "Fine," I sighed with a small pout, "but I announce that my hopes are low." I mumbled jumping to my feet.

I was nervous – one: is that I was a born introvert and two: what is he was actually attractive? I always and I mean always make a fool of myself in front of cute guys.

One of the reasons why I've never had a boyfriend...or a first kiss.

I'm pathetic, I know. No need to rub it in.

I looked down at my simple oversized black shirt and shorts and shrugged. It looked good enough. Mom handed me my white nike air forces and urged me to put them on.

I sighed and pushed my hair back and tied on my shoes.

"If this goes horribly wrong – I'm blaming both of you."

My words caused them to laugh.

Mom put the basket in my hands and smoothed my curls away from my face.

"You will be fine, Athena. I doubt it will go wrong. Now be nice and smile brightly, okay?"

"Okay." I slumped my shoulders and dragged my feet towards the door, feeling my heartbeat quicken. "If I'm not back in five minutes, call the po-po." I called once I opened the door.

The last thing I heard was their loud, cackling laughter before the door shut.

I took in a trembling breath, "You got this, Athena. Don't be a pussy." I mumbled to myself, carefully taking the steps one by one. I looked at the house next door and swallowed hard.

The new neighbor's house was actually a really nice one, and huge. With a huge wrap around porch, three bay windows side by side on the second floor, and a ginormous pool in the backyard that's hidden away from sight.

If you're wondering how I know about the pool, it's simple.

Last summer, I was bored and snuck over and climbed over the tall ass wooden fence with my best friend Sawyer Weiland. It was in the middle of the night, so...we were lucky as heck not to have had triggered the alarms.

That was the first and the last time I ever had enough nerve to do that. Sawyer called me a pussy, but at least I wasn't a dumb fuck in jail.

In no time, I was standing at the neighbor's front door, biting down on my lip. Before I could convince myself to leave, my finger pressed the doorbell. Once the sound rung out, loud barking sounded out from on the other side.

Ah shit.

That didn't sound like a nice dog.

You know, for some reason I never believed my dad when he told me you can tell the difference between the temperament of the dog by the bark (sometimes), but now if I survived leaving this place, I'd apologize to Kota.

I swallowed harshly, pushing back the urge to flee.

"Bam! Shush!" A melodic male voice said on the other side of the door, calming the beast down. My ears perked up at the deep, soothing sound of this stranger's voice.

I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. I came face to face with the most gorgeous torso covered in tattoos and – holy crackers are those abs? In real life?

Sweet daughter of Zeus!

My eyes slowly trailed off his tattooed covered chest, up his muscular neck – which to no one's surprised, was tattooed, past his perfect sharp jawline, adorable lips – I noted that his bottom lip was plumper than his top and had two silver hoops pierced through it, from his adorable nose, and finally to his dark doe eyes...which were currently dark and glaring right into my very soul.

Holy smokes.

For once in her fuckin' life, Liddy Johnson wasn't overreacting. At all.

This man was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen in my life.

He couldn't be real.

No freaking joke.

I couldn't even lie about it.

I flushed bright red, and flushed more because I knew I was blushing.

(I was a sight to see, when I blushed, anyone from ten feet away could see. I never failed to turn cherry red).

"Um, h-hi." I spluttered, backing away slightly as he glared harder.

This gorgeous being, that I didn't even believe could have come from earth didn't look happy. He just looked downright pissed.

I shrunk back meekly.

Athena Green meek? I'd never been classified as meek a day in my life, but a glare from this man had me losing any ounce of courage and confidence I had in myself.

He was more terrifying than Owen Blackbourne, and that was saying something.

"I-I'm Athena G-Green." I swallowed, "I, uh, I live next door and my mom asked me to d-drop this off to y-you. T-to, uh, welcome you to Sunny V-vale C-court."

I decided the moment I entered my house; I'd beat the fuck out of my face. Why, just why did I have to act like a fool, and mention my mom? Gods, I was so lame.

During my stuttering, the man sighed heavily, looking annoyed and leaned against his doorframe, peering at his nail beds as he waited for me to finish.

"You done?" he asked boredly, in his musical voice.

I flushed heavily and nodded quickly. I had never been so embarrassed in my life.

My hands trembled as I thrust the basket in my arms and waited for him to take it, a sweet wavering smile on my lips.

He raised a dark brow, pursing his lips and stepped away from the door looking hotter than the sun and crossed his arms across his bare torso. He towered over my short stature and bore his glaring eyes into mine.

"Thanks for stopping by." He smiled sarcastically and then shut the door in my face.

My jaw dropped at his audacity.

This motherfuck— I stopped myself mid-thought once a hiss left my lips.

Calm, Athena. Be calm.

I gained control of my emotions and clenched my teeth – seeing Liddy Johnson watching me with a sad smile, as if she understood what I was going through, as if it happened it her, which it probably did.

Anger rose within my chest until the point where I was shaking. I dropped the basket on his welcome mat (internally hoping there was something glass or some legos in the basket so he would step on it barefoot) and stalked away from his door.

"That rude, disrespectful piece of dung." I huffed, hands clenched tightly as I neared my house, bypassing Liddy.

I stormed inside my house and slammed the door shut.

"Athena!" Mom rushed in with a large smile on her face – quickly followed by Dad. They both froze as they took in my twitching eye – a tic that I had ever since I could remember that happened every time I was angry. My red face was another piece of the puzzle.

"I'm taking it didn't go well?" she asked slowly, approaching me with caution.

"It didn't!" I howled loudly, "That piece of dung shut the door in my face when I offered him the basket. Stupid fuckin’ weenier.”

Mom reared back at my anger and tried to smother her smile as Dad openly laughed at my rage.

"Was he good looking, by any chance?" Dad called after me as I stomped up the stairs.

"His ugly personality ruins his face and his body that looks like it was created by the gods!" I seethed, eyes twitching as they laughed once more.

"So...he is?" Mom asked hopefully. Infinity times yes.

I stared at her and shook my head.

"He looks like a dickwad." I retorted dryly.

I knew it was too good to be true; the fuckening had commenced. 

author’s note ; ✨

I love Athena and her personality so much, lmfaoo. This is the start of a “crazy fuckin’ ride”, as Athena would say. Buckle up and delve into Athena’s story!

If you want to be apart of the taglist, just lemme know! Thanks so much for reading!

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: TW - DRV3 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (good endings)

DRV3 SPOILERS INCLUDED IN SOME SECTIONS and unlike the SDR2 version, all sections take place in the killing game/game world and none are in a non-despair AU, though death order/order that the academy floors and new areas are unlocked may be messed with a little.

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting the reader or saving them and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Themes like cutting, knives, jumping from high places, poison, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Kaito Momota:

Kaito wouldn’t normally name patrolling the academy’s grounds and halls late at night as one of his favorite activities, but ever since Ryoma was killed… he felt the need to. You and Shuichi were his sidekicks of course, but a real man needed to give his sidekicks something to look up to, aspire to. He was, of course, avoiding restricted and forbidden nighttime areas, but nonetheless he diligently strutted about, ears and eyes open and ready to catch any questionable behavior.

Ryoma’s trial hit Kaito harder than he was willing to admit. With how much respect and internal admiration he held for the sports prodigy, to see him not only fall so far from grace by giving up on life (the complete opposite of Kaito’s mantra, values and minset), but to see him taken out in such a cruel and humiliating way realy shook Kaito. He kept up the facade of confident, unbothered and brave man, but his closer, more observant friends could tell the whole thing was bothering him. After Kaede, who meant so much to his best friend Shuichi and was an ambitious, positive force for good, and now Ryoma who he’d looked up to, he’d put his foot down: a real man protected his friends. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt, kill, or even take advantage of his friends ever again. He’d decided this after defending his faith in Maki during the second class trial, after consoling Shuichi and yourself, both grieving. It was time to really step it up, even if patrolling at night meant putting himself in danger. A fire had been lit beneath him, and besides, he would be out of the dorms to train and exercise with Shuichi most nights anyway, so might as well do some good for his fellow students while he was out.

While passing by the academy’s pool building, he froze when he heard movement inside, a quiet sort of shuffling and a muffled voice. A shudder - something linked to flashbacks from Ryoma’s horrendous trial mere nights before - ran up his spine and he quickly but quietly moved over to the entrance door, peaking inside to spy on whoever was inside. Why or how anyone could stand going anywhere near the pool after what happened was a mystery to him, so whatever they were doing in there had to be suspicious at best. He was going to find out, and perhaps stop another future blackened in the process.

When he sees you standing on the edge of the pool facing away from him, shoulders slumped and shaking up and down a bit, he slips through the crack in the door and hides behind a huge shelf full of pool supplies nearby silently. From there he merely observed. You of all people, who like Shuichi, was so deeply moved by the graphic execution of Kirumi and the tossing away of Ryoma’s bones like trash, would have more reason that others to stay away from the pool. His mind jumped instantly to the worst-case scenario on instinct: another plot for murder using the pool or gym, but he quickly shook these thoughts off. You were his good friend and he trusted you. Shuichi and even Maki seemed to trust you. You’d never hurt anyone. So why were you here?

Kaito knew just from spending time with you that you could often be melancholy, solitary,  locked up in your room for most hours of the day if not with your small group of select friends. You’d been terrified of just living your life since the very start, what with not having your memories then being suddenly thrown into a killing game. Every death, every unfortunate event, every class trial seemed to erode away at you more and more. He often tried to cheer you up, making apparent your potential and skills, trying to force you to see the positives, giving pep talks, pulling you out of your dorm to socialize, but nothing seemed to stick. You always ended up back at square one mentally, just as upset and closed off as the day before. Less and less progress was made each day, too.

As he pondered the sight before him and observed you, you didn’t seem to be preparing any traps, setting up any schemes, no thought-out plots like Kirumi had done days before. You just… stood there, now facing the pool and looking over the edge. Now he knew why your shoulders were shaking. You were crying. Honestly, he’d seen you cry many times in the last few weeks so he wasn't stirred into action just yet, but as you seemed to sway a little too far forward over the edge of the pool, rocking back and forth on your feet, his concern grew. Entering the pool building was allowed at night, but actually jumping in, touching the water after dark was strictly forbidden. It was punishable by death, and that death would be as agonizing and drawn out as Monokuma chose to make it that day. You were all at his mercy at all times. You knew that, everyone did, and now here you were, dangerously teetering over the water’s edge. How easy it would be for you to just, stumble in, slip and fall…

At this point, Kaito was desperately hoping you were crying because you did in fact have a murder plot guilting your conscience or because you were simply still in mourning over Ryoma and Kirumi. Those two scenarios would be easy to talk you out of, to be there for you like always. He would have plenty of time if that were the case. He was perhaps… a bit overconfident in his abilities. He didn’t even want to consider the third option mulling around in his mind… that on was more… uncomfortable, immediate.

“I’m sorry, mom and dad, wherever you are…” You finally spoke, turning his focus back on you and out of his own head. “I’m sorry Shuichi, Maki, Kaito… I j-just,” you cried, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You took a deep breath, and what would happen next if he didn’t stop you flashed before his eyes: Exisals, tearing you apart, crushing you, the blood, the screams as they appeared and tore you from the pool, the academy-wide blaring alarms, your classmates leaving their beds half-awake and rushing to the pool to discover the gruesome scene.

You leaned forward, tipped off your balance, center of gravity shifted, and he lunged, yelling out your name as he left his position hidden in the corner and bolted with the gift of an adrenaline rush boosting his steps. He grabbed you around the waist, tackling you and throwing you back and away from the pool, and you both crashed onto the hard tile behind you. Before you could process what was happening you found yourself on the ground, Kaito spooning your body and panting heavily into your ear. Where had he even come from?

“Are you nuts?!” Kaito yelled through ragged breaths. The man was quite athletic, out of breath from anxiety and shock, not physical strain. Wrenched back to reality, you were suddenly overcome with a wave of intense embarrassment. No one was supposed to witness your moment of extreme weakness like this, especially not someone you cared about and respected.

“Kaito?! I-”

“I knew you were doing pretty shitty, but I didn’t know it was this bad! Why wouldn’t you come to me, to Shuichi or… somebody? We would’ve talked you out of this stupid idea!” His vice-like grip around your waist was unwavering, as if he couldn’t trust you to govern yourself at present, as if you would leap again if he relented.

“I’m sorry… it was… I wasn’t thinking. It was a last second plan, an impulse. I just… it hurts so bad, I let my thoughts take over.” He could hear the tears returning to your voice, shaking your words and softened his own. He could be passionate, overbearing at times even, but that probably wasn’t what you needed right now. He could be very stubborn, reluctant to change his methods and habits, but this was serious. He grunted in frsutration.

“You saw what happened to Ryoma when he gave in… when he gave up on life.” His knuckles tightened, fists tightening into themselves until they turned white. “Are you gonna let that happen to you too, my deputy sidekick?” The pain you gleaned from behind his words only made you sob harder. You felt like you’d let him down, almost caused him to grieve for you like you’d all been grieving for the four you’d already lost. How could you add to your peers’ emotion burden like that? “Hey… geez, come on Y/N… I know we can work through this. Let us help you… let me help. There’s no wound out there that the support of the people that care about you can’t heal!”

Ryoma Hoshi:

You’d been feeling endlessly hopeless lately. The violent nightmares weren’t helping, nor was the attitude of your best friend, Ryoma. A noxious void was swallowing up your will to live piece by piece with each day that passed in this hellhole of an academy, trapped in this killing game. It seemed that your friend was right there with you, and although you couldn’t blame him, knowing he was prone to solemn solidarity already as core part of his personality, his moods only seemed to worsen your own. They bounced off of each other, multiplied when you were together, but he was the only person you cared about or trusted in this prison, so the vicious cycle continued. Any time you were together these days, you were bogged down in an echo chamber of despair. There was a brief period where Ryoma appeared to have a small fire ignited in his heart, a period where he was willing to give life a real honest try, but now the gloom was back in full force ever since those damned motive video Monopads had been introduced into your lives. A few days had passed in a big tizzy about who’s Monopad was where, who watched theirs and most were mixed and matched, sent out to the wrong student, but for some reason… you felt like Ryoma had viewed his own, and he did not like what he had seen. It was almost worse seeing your friend long for death then feeling it inside for yourself. You’d started keeping to yourself to avoid seeing it, selfish as that may be.

On one particularly dismal mental health day, you were in his research lab while he was away, trying to get your mind off of dark thoughts, maybe play tennis with the wall. Bouncing the ball off and hitting with a racket as hard as you could could be therapeutic. Maybe that was how Ryoma blew off steam at times. Miu Iruma was there in the lab with you, paying you no mind, obsessed with the sporting machines and how they functioned. Miu loved tinkering ceaselessly with any electronics and gadgets she could find, both inside her own research lab and around the academy. She rarely asked permission to enter other’s labs to do so. She wanted to know how everything worked and it brought her great joy. Your ominous desires taking over, you began to question her. Interestingly, one of the only times she wasn’t a totally vulgar, aggressive bitch was when she was engrossed in her work. She would still snap here and there and slip in inappropriate jokes, but she was much more sufferable. She loved when others asked her to explain something, any chance she got to flaunt her vast wealth of knowledge. She described some of the basic functions of the ball-launching machines: how to change the velocity, the maximum amount of tennis balls one could pelt in a certain timeframe, how to change its direction, how to use the auto-timer or stop all movement with the press of a button. She didn’t even question why you cared, as long as she got to look like the smartest person in the room. Good, you thought. You didn’t want anyone suspecting a thing when you came later to hopefully put an end to your participation in this killing game for good. You didn’t care what was on your motive video at this point. You didn’t even have the energy to find out who had it. You just wanted… out.

~

Later that night, with your mind in a stupor, body nearly on autopilot, you returned to the research lab, now empty save for yourself, to put the tennis machines on autopilot themselves. Unsurprisingly for a bear as evil and twisted as Monokuma, he’d set up the lab equipment to be able to work at extremely dangerous speeds, speeds powerful and torrential enough to maim or even kill someone. Miu had looked both fascinated and horrified upon discovering this earlier. You used this setting to your advantage, placing a timer and setting the machine to its maximum velocity. You’d loaded up the tennis balls, tons of them, and angled multiple machines to target one specific corner of the room. This would work. Anything to feel something, or die trying. Hopefully all of it, all the pain, would all end tonight.

You stepped back, machines prepped to boundlessly and without hesitation do their dark work. You stood in the corner, counting down in your head, ready for what you’d unleashed on yourself. The machines booted up, beginning to whir with the effort of getting to the input speed. You closed your eyes and prepared for an impact that would never come.

Like a flash, a blur of motion so fast it was near unseeable, Ryoma appeared before you, racket in hand, and knocked the incoming balls away from you with ease. One after the other, with inhuman speed he reflected them back toward the machines with the amount of skill and prowess that earned him the title of the Ultimate Tennis Pro in the first place. It was extraordinary. You were sure only he could manage such a feat. You gasp, opening your eyes at the noise in front of you and startled by the sight. With a grunt of effort, he grabs you with his free hand and throws you with all of his strength out of the corner. He ducks, jumping out of the way and onto the ground beside you. The machines continued to pelt the now empty corner of the room faithfully, just as commanded, the booming repetitive sound echoing off the walls of the research lab.

Eventually, minutes later, all sound ceased as the machines ran out of ammunition and therefore shut themselves off. You both lay splayed across the cold floor, silent as the grave. This was so delicate of a situation now, so severe and tense. What was there to say? How did one begin? Only your inhales and exhales filled the dim room, dozens of yellow fuzzy tennis balls scattered around your still forms. Finally, you spoke:

“Where did you come from?” You whispered, heart thumping wildly in your chest. He sighed in reply.

“It’s late, I always come to my lab around this hour, for some alone time… I came just in time to catch you doing something stupid, it seems…” Silence filled the room once again as you both just sat there soaking in his words, and you valued it, time spent with your best friend where you weren’t absorbing each other’s hopelessness and amplifying it. There was a different mood in the air now, an aura of understanding, of caring about what happens to the person next to you for the first time in weeks, even if it was mixed with guilt and embarassment.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke up again when you refused to, “I guess I haven’t given you much to look up to as of late…” He rolled over, facing away from you, staring into the wall in shame. “I’ll set a better example, try harder… if only for your sake.” The deep rumble of his bassy voice filled the room.

His motive video stated quite plainly that there was no one in his life to live for, no one to care about or who cared about him in turn.  When he saw you in front of those death machines your life in peril, he knew that was a lie.

Korekiyo Shinguuji:

Below you were nearly eight floors of priceless, dusty artifacts, research and excavation tools, bones, books. Around you were alcoves and shelves, display cases and crates full of history and knowledge. Korekiyo’s research lab was much like himself: complex, dark and mysterious, vertically blessed and intimidating. It was like when people drew an object as a personified character using the object’s traits; his lab looked like an architect stalked Kiyo for months and modeled a room after the man. Monokuma was many things, but inattentive was not one of them, even if he feigned ignorance at times. This lab, perhaps even more than the others (which were still detailed and impressive in their own right) molded so seamlessly into the character and talents of its owner. Even the color scheme of the room matched his uniform, and the atmosphere matched his energy. The room smelled like an ancient library, a museum. It smelled how Kiyo looked.

You peered down at the eight story drop below you, the many stairs before you daunting and suffocating even in the spacious research lab. It was the largest lab by far, and the fall to the bottom would most likely kill you. Just in case, you’d taken the oppurtunity to place a large pile of whatever sharp and more dangerous items you could find in the lab at the bottom, compiling a makeshift deathtrap to ensure this went as planned. There was a katana, carving tools, ritual knives, tribal spears, needles and more.

You were acutely aware of your own breathing, especially in a echoey, dusty chamber like this. It was quiet and menacing, again like its host, who conveniently was not here at present. You’d chosen a time when Korekiyo seemed to be out and slinking about the academy, unsettling the other students no doubt or lecturing them about human history and traditions. It was a lucky last minute plan. Fate must want this, you thought. This must be the right thing to do… Kiyo had barely left this place since it’d opened, too enraptured by its contents to leave, so for him to not be here at this perfect time for your plan to commence, it must have been a work of fate. Your head felt light, like your body was trying to relax and numb itself, to accept what you were about to do. You closed your eyes, swaying calmly back and forth over the railing.

Suddenly, there was a firm hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flashed open, your blood running cold in your veins. Korekiyo, perhaps Kokichi… it had to be one of those two. You couldn’t think of one other classmate, not one, who could or would sneak in the shadows and reappear unseen and unheard but those two. They were both creeps in their own unique ways. Slowly, you turned to see the face behind the hand, and found it half-covered by a dark mask.

“Kiyo…” You acknowledge him with a nod, as if you weren’t up to something dubious… in his lab… without his permission. You looked into his glowing yellow eyes and found sadness in them, extremely expressive. They often were, they had to be when his jaw, his mouth could never convey his feelings to his peers. Kiyo couldn’t flare his nostrils, clench his teeth to signal to others. Maybe that was part of the mystery, part of what scared others about him. Humans often needed emotions, facial cues, body language to communicate, to feel safe and understood in each other’s presence. WIth Kiyo, much could be left up to interpretation.

“It seems some of my artifacts have been misplaced…” He mused, the bandaged hand on your shoulder moving off to cradle his own chin, as if he were puzzled about the situation. “Hmmm… were you perhaps studying some of them and left that mess down there?” He nodded in the direction of the pile, arms crossing over his chest like the disapproving mother of a child who forgot to clean their room.

“I’m really sorry, Kiyo…” You turned your head back to stare forward blankly at the wall across from you, unable to meet his eyes any longer. You felt embarrassed, ashamed that you’d not only been caught pre-attempt, but that you’d made a mess of items you knew the anthropologist held so dear.

“It’s quite alright. I sometimes get lost in my work and studies, too, even forgetting to sleep some nights. The contents of this lab can lead to endless hours of fun, yes? I know you meant no harm by it, unlike some more mischevious classmates of ours.” He giggled gaily beneath the mask. “Speaking of sleep, it's quite late. I know the quest for knowledge is endless, but you must be exhausted.” He of course knew what you were really planning to do here tonight. He was a highly intelligent young man, and someone would have to be blind to not pick up on your intentions. However, he had no desire to embarrass you further, and frankly wanted this all to end as soon as possible, so this little scenario would be swept under the rug in favor of a story less dismal.

“Y-yeah…” You nod, playing along, expressionless and empty inside.

If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve torn them apart for touching his artifacts without his permission, much less mishandling them and leaving them in a cluttery heap on the floor. Perhaps it was the small friendship you’d gradually formed with him that spared you from this fate. You were always curious about his interests and talent, willing to learn, to listen to him talk for hours. You weren’t judgmental like some, talking about him behind his back, cutting him off mid-explanation because you were bored, obviously creeped out by his presence. Yes, he would let his offense go, if only to justify the belief that you deserved a more beautiful, dignified death later on. This wouldn’t do at all, falling pathetically to your death, not for someone like you. You at least deserved more than that he supposed, and yet, your blood decorating his artifacts, your body splayed out in a contorted position over them… that could’ve been beautiful in its own way, too. He hadn’t decided fully yet…

Taking your hand in his long slender, the scholar began to guide you, dragging your rather heavy feet behind him down the crimson stairs. You passed floor by floor until he guided you to the base level, and you let him. Again, fate must have wanted this, to stop you in time, to allow Korekiyo to interfere.

Kokichi Ouma:

You didn’t want to be here, tucked under a metal shelf in the Exisal hangar, cramped and uncomfortable for what felt like hours but yet here you were, waiting for Kokichi to come “seek” your “hide” in this stupid, childish game he loved to play. The academy was the perfect setting for an epic game of hide-and-seek you’d admit, with countless areas to hide and not be found for days, but you were in no mood for playing. You’d been rapidly declining, pushed further and further into the recesses of your own depressed mind with each passing day. You just wanted to lay in your dorm room and cry, sulk, sleep. Kokichi knew that, and yet he loved to drag you out and about for his pointless antics or little trickster schemes on the daily. Even now, as he became more and more unhinged after each class trial, he still involved you in his malicious and sometimes even dangerous plans. You tolerated his immature, hyper, selfish, sporadic, volatile personality - which was insufferable to most - because he was your best if not only friend on campus. Even if the others would say they liked you, no one really hung out with you or paid you any mind, never wanted to know you on any level deeper than acquaintances who made polite conversation during free time or cooperated during class trials. You didn’t consider them friends. You considered Kokichi a close friend. You really didn’t know why he was even interested in you in the first place. You found yourself introverted, boring and awkward, but nonetheless you accepted and even secretly cherished his attention and friendship. He was probably just using you for a long con, a means to an end, but still…

No… today you’d had enough, getting angrier and angrier by the second squashed into that little area under the shelf, your spine aching. Being here alone in the silence, it only left you to your dreary thoughts, gave you the opportunity to dwell on the past three class trials, the death and despair that seemed in constant supply here. You decided you could do that in the comfort of your own bed, warm under the duvet in your dorm room and not contorted into a pretzel on the dirty floor. Screw this, your mind spoke to you, making the decision at once. You huffed, standing and brushing off your uniform. You were fed up, tired of waiting on a kid who clearly didn’t care about you. You felt like you were in denial, seeing your connection with Kokichi as “friendship” when he probably was just using you as a toy because no one else would let him use them. You didn’t feel like a priority to him. He was probably bored and had given up on looking for you, again, prone to changes of his mood and plans on a whim. He was really good at seeking, he was good at most things he enjoyed… surely it wasn’t taking this long. He must have abandoned you.

This was the last straw… even your only friend didn’t think you were worth his time, even when you’d clearly been going through some shit mentally. Kokichi was smarter than people gave him credit for. He knew you were in agony inside, and still he’d done this to you?

Before you could make your way back to your room, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A hydraulic press, no doubt used to compress and scrap broken-down and useless Exisals, seemed to glimmer and shine over on the other side of the room. It seemed to be calling to you, begging to be used, honored to be your release from this world. Sighing with the weight of months of desolation on your shoulders, your body seemed to go into some sort of autonomous mode. You were like a zombie, feeling nothing anymore as you made your way over to the control panel up on a platform next to the press. You passed by dirty shelves, oil and paint cans, tons of lined up inactive Exisals on the way there, stepping up the small incline to the panel and looking over it without hesitation or self preservation in mind.

Quickly, you scan the buttons, knobs and latches until you find the safety features. Without a second thought you switched off all automatic safety settings available to you. For good measure you pulled out the thick wires corresponding to the safety features on the control panel. Now, you would be able to manually send the press into closing all the way down, firmly and snugly. The press was designed to cease all movement automatically if it sensed a living being inside, but now, it would keep going regardless unless manually turned off. You flipped a switch and the machine roared to life, slowly beginning its long, crushing descent. You promptly moved the short distance over to the long, flat press and let your back lay flat against the cold, unfeeling metal.

You thought you’d be scared, but you felt nothing still. It felt like laying in your bed like always, mind empty, heart heavy. It was just another night. You thought you’d lose your conviction, chicken out; that’s what a normal person would do. Fear of death was normal. Your lack of emotion just proved even further that this was the best option for you, in your mind at least. You zoned out, pushing out all surrounding smells, sounds, and sights. There was only you and the silver slab above you. You were at peace, or at least your body didn’t protest or work to save itself. Folding your hands over your chest, you closed your eyes and resigned yourself to your fate as the press drew closer to your face.

Your ears perk up when you hear a sudden clicking sound so close by that it breaks through your barrier of dissociation. Your eyes flash open, a bit perturbed at the cease of motion above you. You were positive you turned off the setting correctly, and yet the press was unmoving.

Before you have time to even process the interruption, your left arm is being snatched by the elbow, and not too gently either. A claw-like, unforgiving grip around your arm pulls you sideways off of the press and you groan when your ass hits the solid ground below. You look at your assailant, surprised that someone his size could be that strong. Much like his true intentions or level of intelligence, it might have just been another thing he’s hidden from the world.

“Kokichi?” The petite boy sunk down on the ground next to you like his knees had given out, bawling his eyes out. You look at him in surprise, not having even heard him enter the hangar. By all means you should’ve, with the loud metal door that groans and hisses when it opens. You must’ve been really out of it.

“Yeah… of course it’s me, idiot!” He spat, showing you no mercy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! This is not how you play hide-and-seek!” He was absolutely furious, face red as a tomato as he yelled in your face.

You’re both limp piles of flesh on the ground, emotional and collapsing into yourselves for different reasons. Kokichi leapt forward, throwing his arms around your shoulders and crumbling into you, his body molding into yours. His weight crashing into you nearly toppled you over, and he clung to you, snotty and sobbing like a little kid. His fingers dug into your back like nails, clutching to you like his life depended on it. You were speechless. You’d never seen such real, raw emotion from Kokichi. He loved to lie, to put on a performance and was good at fake crying, but you could tell this was real. He’d never reacted to the loss of any of your classmates like this. He continued to berate you, showing his fear of losing you in his own… unique way.

I guess he really did care after all.

Rantarou Amami: 

Rantarou often took strolls around the academy grounds at night to clear his head. The air was crisp and refreshing, there were interesting things to see, and if he truly got bored of just walking and looking, he could always hit up the casino for some late-night fun to pass the time. Mostly though, he just needed the quiet time alone to think, to process his thoughts from that day and plan the next.

Passing the dorms and heading toward the entrance to the main building of the academy, he shuffled to a standstill when his eyes caught sight of something strange. Up high on the rooftop, he spotted something that was definitely out of place, not there on his usual nightly walk. He could barely make out the shape of a human form, standing up there all alone. He squinted, trying to focus in on it. The grounds were pretty well lit, but nobody was ever up on the roof to his knowledge, so it made sense that not many lights were installed way up there. Yep, it was definitely a person: not big or wide enough to be an Exisal or small enough to be a bear. Curious almost to a fault, Rantarou decided immediately to check it out. It took a lot of figuring out which stairwell led where, which floor of the academy was blocked off and so on to find the door to the roof. Really, there wasn’t much up there, it was just a flat, levelled surface so there was no appeal, no need for the students to use it. Well… in this killing game, there were probably plenty of uses for the dangerously high-up, rarely visited, unrailed rooftop, but none of them were good.

When he closes the door behind him and sees, now up close, that the human form that was visible from the ground is you, standing on the edge of the roof, he sighs. He was really hoping on his trek up here that it wasn’t going to be you. Unfortunately, his gut said it would be, and that made him rush up to the roof all the quicker. Anyone else might have genuinely been up there for fresh air or the view, but Rantarou knew you… he knew you’d been going a rough time, the whole group knew it. Some of your fellow prisoners at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles made fun of you for being so mopey all the time, calling you emo or a buzzkill. Kokichi teased that you and Shuichi would be a perfect match, that you could “be little bitches together,” crying all day, wearing all black and so on. He was ruthless.

Rantarou knew why you were up there, what could happen to you that night if he didn’t intervene. Preparing himself mentally, he gently approached you, slowly and cautiously as to not spook you off of the ledge.

“H-hey? Um, what’s up Y/N?” The air up there was extra chilly, and that mixed with the apprehension about how the next few moments would go had him throwing his hands into his pockets, immensely uncomfortable. Knowing you were no longer alone, you stepped back from the ledge, wrapping your arms around your middle as you turned to face him. He didn’t miss it when your expression went from a dead-inside indifference to anxious surprise when you saw him.

“Rantarou? Hey…” you spoke unenthusiastically, clearly intending to spend what may have been your last night on Earth alone.

“Stargazing, huh?” He laughed nervously, trying to play off the severity of the potentially dire situation. The goal was to descalate your suicidal thoughts if you indeed had any as he suspected, to let you know you weren’t alone, physically or emotionally. “If so, there are way better places on campus to do it!”

“Oh… yeah,” you replied with a forced, pathetic little laugh. You stepped closer toward him. It seemed like you were already losing conviction in your choice to jump. Good. Those second thoughts were good. Doubts were good. You obviously weren’t too far gone, or you probably would’ve jumped regardless of him watching - not caring, not regretting, not feeling anything.

“Can I chill up here with you? Walkin’ around all alone at night’s gettin’ kinda boring. I mean, I’ve seen everything on campus a million times. It would be a nice change of routine.” He smiled hopefully, pressuring you into accepting. You nod in response and the two of you sat and “stargazed” for a long while, eventually shifting to lay down on the hard, dirty concrete of the rooftop and stare up into the sky.

“You can’t… really see much…” you grumbled after a long silence.

“Hmmm? Oh yeah, the campus is pretty well lit so not many stars are gonna show. It sucks, but I kinda like just laying here. It’s nice: the silence, doing nothing. Our days are pretty stressful, you know?” Oh, you knew. The stress of the killing game, wondering if you were going to die that day, trying to figure out mystery after puzzle, trying to recall memories… it was what sent you into this spiral in the first place.

You let Rantarou carry the conversation from there. He attempted to enthuse you with tales of his travels, trying to make life sound adventurous, the world worth living for. Some of it did in fact entertain you, catching your attention, but mainly what shook you was Rantarou opening up to you freely when he was known by the group to be pleasant but quite secretive about his past, even unintentionally. You’d all lost some of your memories, but he was even more of a mystery than others. You couldn’t help but feel a bit moved, a bit warmed by the fact that he wanted to reveal more of himself to you. He spoke for a long while, telling long stories of his past for the next hour or so before letting the interaction fade into a more comfortable silence. Eventually though, he knew he would have to acknowledge it, to get to the hard part.

“Hey… uh… I just wanna let you know that I’ve been there before… some really rough shit in life, you know?” He turned his head to look directly at you, no longer caring about the stars sprinkled sparsely above. “Don’t do it… It’s never gonna be worth it.” 

Gonta Gokuhara:

“Y/N??? What happen?!” Gonta was kneeling in front of you, a nervous wreck.

This was not how this was supposed to go. How did he… of all people find you??? How could anyone?

You were tucked away in a dark hallway, a few floors up in an area of the academy hardly anyone used. This section was decorated in cobwebs, loose boards, unfinished paint. This floor unlocked because there were some research labs up here, but this in particular was a wing that was a far walk to the other side of the floor and this area was mostly untouched, or rather, abandoned. Monokuma and the Kubs obviously didn’t plan to do anything with it and had even blocked it off lazily with some loose tape. The bears were never seen here, and you thought the first time you broke past the tape that an Exisal or five would show up to crush you for breaking some rule, but when nothing happened, you decided to make this your own little spot for when you just needed a break from it all. This world, the academy, the killing game, it all became far too much very quickly.

This hallway had a high archway and a large round window looking out. There was a beautiful view of the moon from this dramatic looking window, and you wanted it to be your last view. Here in your secret place, you thought, even if someone did discover you in the morning or days from now, you’d be long gone. This was a good spot, but what was happening now was not part of the plan… Here you were, blood trickling and a sharp razor to your arm about to cut deep once again when the large man came stomping through the normally silent hallway seemingly on a mission.

You were pulled back into the moment: Gonta was yelling and you were shushing him, a bit light headed and a super panicked. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be just you, alone and done. Not someone like him… he didn’t deserve to see this. Now this was selfish. Now… you couldn’t finish the job.

You didn’t want to hurt him like this. All he ever wanted to do was help others. Gonta was too good, too pure of heart, too selfless. You didn’t want him to deal with this or to think for even a second that he had any fault in it. God forbid he was too late to stop it and you bled out anyway. He would blame himself forever. You didn’t want to expose him to this. You tried to distract him, which in normal daily conversation proved easy to do.

“Gonta, what are you doing here?” You tossed the razor to the ground and tried to hold your arm somewhat back and out of his direct line of sight, but he kept looking at it regardless, clearly focused on one thing at the moment.

“W-well, normally Gonta go to his lab at this time every night, check on bugs between sleeping, make sure they’re safe! But… tonight, Kokichi stop Gonta outside Gonta’s lab and say our friend Y/N is in trouble! Gonta had to come right away to help!” Kokichi… that little shit! How did he even know? He seemed to know everything that happened around campus, like he was always lurking about in the shadows. He knew everyone’s secrets, was up in everyone’s business like it was his job. You hadn’t even seen him anywhere near you tonight… Was he truly that far ahead of everyone else? Why would he do this to Gonta, though? You wouldn’t even pretend to know how his twisted little mind worked.

“Oh, well I’m fine, Gonta, honestly…” You pulled down your uniform sleeve, hoping that covering the open wounds would lessen the seriousness of the moment.

“Y/N not fine! Let Gonta help!” Sputtering and an anxious mess, Gonta, who assumed this was all a big misunderstanding, an accident, insisted you follow him to his lab, or he’d even carry you if it hurt too much or you felt too weak. You knew he wasn’t going to simply let this go and walk away, so you sighed and conceded, allowing him to guide you all the way to his bug-filled research lab before he could escalate this to an even louder ruckus that possibly drew others to the scene.

He happily explained that he had some basic first aid and medical supplies in there, that Monokuma adapted a side area to be kind of like the environment Gonta grew up in but in his own… less sophisticated way of speaking. He also had some more advanced first aid tools that he’d collected and stored from the warehouse on the first floor just in case his bugs friends or human friends needed his help (bless his heart). He knew of basic bandaging and wound-cleaning methods from his time growing up in the wilderness. It was survival of the fittest out there.

He dutifully got your arm all fixed up and padded the wound so even if your arm bumped into something lightly while you slept that night, you wouldn’t feel it. He joyfully talked your ear off, never aware of the true intent behind your actions that night. He was simply happy to help, to save his friend at any cost.

Shuichi Saihara:

When you awoke, you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your dorm room, mind groggy and eyes bleary. A pounding headache greeted you along with a tightness in your lungs. A feeling of pins and needles spread through your extremities as you slowly sat up. You were in your bed… Did it not work? Huh? The light above stung your eyes and as you looked around, you finally noticed Shuichi by your bedside. His eyes were red and puffy underneath, like he’d been crying recently.

“Shuichi? Is this real? Why am I-” you began, throat hoarse and raw.

“Alive? I found you on the floor of my research lab… the bottle was nearby.” He looked disappointed, disheartened, exhausted. “I forced the antidote down your throat… anything to get it into your system. Maki helped me carry you here. She’ll be back with food eventually, we were planning on taking shifts…” You started to stutter, to try and make excuses or apologies but he cut you off, nerves obviously fried: “If you knew it was getting this bad, if you felt like this was your only option, you should’ve talked to me, or Maki… or anybody for that matter, anything to prevent this!” His words were breathy, voice giving out as he was starting to get choked up again. He sighed, breath catching in his throat and he held his head in his hands. “Or maybe… we should’ve noticed…” He spoke barely above a whisper, sniffling. A shockwave of guilt and pain shot through your body. You couldn’t let him think that.

“No, Shuichi, this isn’t your fault! This isn’t on anyone but me!” You couldn’t deal with the knowledge that he was feeling in any way guilty about this.

“Poisoning yourself? Do you know how slow that would’ve been, how painful? Did you even read the label on the specific posion you chose? You would’ve gone in and out of consciousness most likely, each time waking up in more pain that the last until your body finally gave out. Monokuma designed this stuff, its tortuous and cruel, Y/N.” You’d rarely heard his voice take on this deep, angry tone. “You would’ve felt your body shutting down, paralyzed and powerless to stop the pain. Can you imagine if I hadn’t found you passed out initially and shoved that antidote down your throat? I bet you’re still feeling some side effects regardless.” He shook his head, unable to meet your gaze with his next words. “... Why would you do this to me…? To see my best friend suffer like that!” The tears, hot and angry began to pour freely from the corners of his eyes, his words spat through clenched teeth. He was trying to even out his breaths, fists balled at this side in the chair beside your bed. Seeing your brows furrow in guilt, the emotional pain twisted into your expression when you were already in physical pain, he tried desperately to reel himself in. “I’m sorry. I shoudn’t be angry at you, it’s selfish of me. I just…” He sighed deeply, steadying his breathing.

No, he was right… he’d lost Kaede, you’d all just lost Kaito - the main event that finally pushed you over an edge you’d already been teetering on. You’d almost caused him more irreversible pain. Everyone else who died crushed his spirit of course, but you, Kaito, Kaede, Maki, you guys were so very dear to him. Losing any of you chipped away at his heart and soul, and he didn’t have many pieces left. There was barely enough Shuichi left to keep going. Each trial drained him like an old machine running out of steam. You cared about him, cherished him immeasurably, and yet you almost contributed directly to the destruction and despair the killing game had wrought inside his heart already.

“For some reason, Monokuma said suicide is a viable death for a class trial if the antidote didn’t take. Said he’s seen suicide work before for a trial,” he spoke again to fill the unpleasant void in the air. “It seemed like he really didn’t want me to administer it to you, but I told him since I literally saw it happen, a trial would be boring. A quick trial would be no fun for him, so he seemed to be mulling it over. You know he’s all about entertaining himself… so sick. I was praying, just hoping the antidote worked. I couldn’t have done it, your trial…” Maki interupted his monologuing, entering with a tray of food and water. 

“Y/N,” Maki nodded her acknowledgment, showing she cared in her own reserved way. He turned to greet her solemnly, then back to you. “Whatever you need to talk about, I’m here, we are here. Please don’t do anything like this ever again.”

K1B0/Kiibo:

You loved Kiibo and really treasured his friendship, but sometimes he just didn’t seem to get more complex or abstract human concepts. Even something like depression, which wasn’t all that complex on the surface level, seemed to make him uncomfortable and revert into a very robotic state of thinking. Kiibo understood sadness of course, even feeling what he described as sadness on multiple occasions, but the deep, irrational, incurable thing that true depression could sometimes be seemed to be less reachable to him. When you vented or explained the concept, he tried to understand and you two were so close that you went to him before anyone else. You trusted him wholly and bonded after many months spent with him. You could see his gears turning (not literally) when he was trying really hard to understand a new idea or emotion, but sometimes you just wanted to vent and be heard while he wanted to offer practical solutions. He’d search his memory banks for psychological reports, comb the internet looking for the smartest answer, the facts, but the human side he wasn’t seeming to get was that the facts weren’t always what someone wanted or needed when they were feeling down. There was barely any warmth from his “comfort,” even when he tried extremely hard. Deep, excruciating depression seemed to be something he just wasn’t programmed to deal with. Maybe his creator thought he’d never encounter it, or you all got locked up in the academy before it could be added to his knowledge bank. You knew Kiibo could learn and adapt even without previous programming, but sometimes it was hard for him. It felt like asking Google how to solve a depressive episode or a panic attack instead of a friend who should know you and your heart.

On one particular evening, Kiibo found himself searching around the academy for you. You were usually on time to meet up with him, and you’d hang out at the same place every night for the past few months. When a good while passed and you didn’t show up, he went looking for you, a bit worried. You were in a killing game after all. He didn’t want to assume the worst but it would be foolish not to consider the possibility. After clearing the outside areas he moved into the main building, up dusty stairs and across lesser used halls until he came upon a restricted section that Monokuma blocked off for “ normal maintenance.” You all knew this was probably a lie, that the bear probably had something far more sinister than maintenance planned for that section of the school, but no one dared cross the yellow tape and warning signs. The Kubs had threatened you all on punishment of death if you broke the rules by ruining the surprise early and entering the closed off wing. Looking over the tape, the loose boards and dimly lit hall, something was willing him to go, pushing him to check past the tape… his inner voice. He’s never ignored it before, and it’s always been the right choice. Finding a courage he didn’t normally have, he stepped cautiously under the tape, being sure not to rip or alter its placement. Creeping down the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded a corner and saw you standing yards behind an Exisal. The deadly machine was clearly on autopilot with no Kub inside, likely just set to perform simple maintenance, guard duty, cleaning or building on its own until its owner returned. Regardless, the thing would probably mindlessly kill any signs of human life it encountered in its owner’s stead, programmed by its creator to carry out punishments on rule breakers in this area. Yet another thing that made Kiibo superior to these types of no-intellect, violent piles of scrap metal. If you were caught, you were likely dead on sight, and he knew that, and he knew you had to know that.

Shuffling up to you warily, he grabs onto your shirt firmly and begins to drag you back and away from the Exisal.

“What are you doing?!” He whispers, inching you both away from the machine and back toward the entrance to the blocked off section. You were pulling away from him, struggling with tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. You wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t alert the Exisal now for fear of putting Kiibo’s life in danger as well, but if you could just convince him to leave, shake him off, maybe… “You shouldn’t be here!” Now a safer distance away from the Exisal, you began to protest verbally. You were mumbling, something like let me do this, I want to die, and was talking over you, solely concerned with getting you both into the clear where you could talk openly. He didn’t want to hear that word right now either: die, or any variation of it. He felt that anxiety, what humans describe as a tightness in the chest or butterflies flying around where his intestines would be. Was this feeling uniquely human?

His uneasiness lessens a tiny bit once he drags you under the tape and now down an unrestricted hall to a nearby bench, but now the uncomfortable talk had to begin. He hated this part, hated feeling inadequate and inhuman. He takes your rambling head into his hands and forces you to look at him through the tears.

“This is illogical. This is a most… painful way out! Why would you chose this way? It’s unreasonable. Why would you want to die like that, and who knows how long that thing is programmed to drag it out. Monokuma and the Monokubs are cruel to say the least, would dying by a machine they made be a great way to go out?” This was not what you wanted to hear. He was doing it again, another analytical, logical answer. You began to weep even harder, the frustration doubling at his words. You wanted to punch him in the face right now. He didn’t know what to do, eyes bouncing all over your form in confusion and dread like he was looking at a ship that just sprung a leak and was threatening to sink before him. He felt himself overheating like some common computer, ashamed at the useless he felt at that moment.

He didn’t know what to do… he was making it worse! So, he followed his inner voice.

In a panic, before he can think, he simply blurts out:

“I don’t want you to go! I would miss you, and I like having you in my life! I care about you, so please, please don’t do this.” He’s gasping though he doesn’t need to breathe. You find yourself calming down a bit, shaken by his words and quieting down to hear the rest of what he has to say. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you here. You’re my best friend and I have strong feelings for you, ones I never knew I could ever have!” You were shocked. He’d never said anything like this to you before. He takes your hands in his, and it feels right to him, like he’s supposed to do it. “Please, I’m listening. I’ll listen all night if need be.”

[eliavraay]

Question since I really love your comics: How did Scroop join adult Jim's crew and why did he accept?

After his fight with Jim, Scroop was carried away by a cosmic current and weeks later an acturian ship found him barely alive. Since this nation has a very strickt law against pirates, Scroop is sent into one of the arcturian prisons. He spends 5 years here, since the arcturian law dictates, that his EVERY crime must be brought up against him on trial. That way they can call it a fair execution.

During these 5 years, Jim makes a name for himself, graduating the Navy academy and taking part in the Battle of Procyon. He becomes a war hero and he can have his own ship, which he names the "Solar Fire". As he becomes a captain of the Navy, he gets access to their databanks. With a little light of curiosity and wanting some closure, he tries to look up what happened to his father. He learns, that he was part of an expedition, trying to map an uncharted sector of space. The place is called the Scyllian Nebula and is famous about not being mapped, because all tech fails in the cosmic cloud. Nobody knows, what's on the other side, since no ship ever came back. Jim's father disappeared with the last ship going in.

So... Jim just can't help himself and wants to find out, what happened to him. He assembles a very specific crew of individuals the Navy is not too fond of having under their flag and doesn't mind if they disappear. However they do care about the ship and Jim, so the Admirals only allow the expedition, if Jim recruits someone at least vaguely familiar with the way to the nebula. And Scroop is one of three people in the Etherium, who knows that region. The moment Jim sees his name on the list... he just accepts it as fate and rolls with it. Thanks to his heroic efforts as captain, the arcturians release Scroop into his custody.

Of course, Scroop tries to escape immediatelly, but then he faces Jim's crew. And this is the moment this crew starts to shine, since any of them could take on Scroop individually, anytime. They are all dangerous and has their little quirks. Scroop and Jim eventually make a pact, that he won't escape until they reach the destination. Jim also promises him freedom and even some money to start anew, so Scroop accepts. Thou he starts to wonder, what to do with that freedom and money, since he really wants nothing. He tries to avoid the crew, but they are not stopping including him, so... eventually he just accepts them.

[chiinferno]

Anwar Zain

A mixed-breed Half Elf attending the Ilumvalos Institution. Due to being 25% Orc, 25% Goblin and 50% Elf, he tends to get bullied by the other "pure" Elves, causing him to wish he could have just been born as an ordinary Elf... He's become pretty close friends with Lindra Borgrost and Estelle Aelia.

[radioactive-metal]

Aurora Legion timeline

ok folks it’s

tonight’s serious post

On the docket tonight…. My completely nonsense timeline of the aurora legion. This is all pure conjecture and so is basically fanfic. Dates are all wrong but screw it im tired.

Year 22xx (I forgot lol): the aurora legion is founded, construction work begins on aurora academy phase 0. The legion’s equipment consists of deactivated Terran and Beretreskan stock, as Aurora labs is yet to be set up. Year designated AL:0

AL:2: first class graduates from AL temporary headquarters on Luna. Crews assigned to fend off pirate raids near trask and provide aid to a beleaguered Terran colony in the Sirius system. Aurora Academy Phase 0 50% complete.

AL:5: aurora academy phase 0 complete. Thrusters, power generation, life support finished. Phase 1 started.

AL:10: Aurora Labs begin operation. First piece of equipment produced is a new type of pistol, known as a disruptor, primarily designed to incapacitate, it becomes the standard sidearm of the legion. Phase 1 33% complete

AL:20: number of active squads reaches 100, flying missions around Terran and Beretreskan space. The first prototype Longbow MK.1 enters trials after being built at the Martian shipyards. Phase one 80% complete

AL:23: Phase one complete, legion HQ moves to the now habitable Aurora academy, and the first class is inducted. The stream system is introduced to improve squad efficiency. Construction begins on Aurora Yards in the asteroid belt of the Aurora system.

AL:30: Long Bows enter high rate production, with new ships rolling off the line on biweekly intervals. Phase two of the Aurora Academy begins

AL:55: Long Bow MK.2 enters testing at Aurora Yards. Fleet size reaches 200 active vessels, 180 Aurora Spec Longbow class, 7 Terran Indomitable class destroyers, 6 Beretreskan Kysshakk class frigates, 4 Terran Dreadnaught class light cruisers, and 1 Terran Battleship, the Indefatigable.

AL:63: also known as Black ‘63, this year marked the loss of Nari Kim and battleship Indefatigable at the hands of what was later identified as a Sydrathi Warbreed Hunter-killer fleet. 7 squads are lost in the line of duty after a supply run to a supposed refugee fleet that opened fire for unclear reasons. Kysshakk class frigates Clan-of-fury and Beetle-back engage and destroy. Later analysis showed it to be a pirate fleet in disguise. Phase 2 40% complete.

AL:70: Longbow MK.2 introduced, with better payload capacity, range, firepower, and resistance to the kind of sensor jamming that lead to Black ‘63. Phase 2 64% complete

AL:90: The last of the original founders dies. A memorial service is held and attended by 85% of personnel. Development begins on the Polearm class of frigates to replace the aging Indomitable and Kysshakk class vessels. Station AL-02 begins construction on border territories of Terra and Trask, to act as a forward operating base. Phase 2 completed. Original specs for Aurora academy met. Additional expansion plans, and development phases 3-7 are drawn up.

AL:107: Polearm MK.1 enters service. Active fleet reaches 400 vessels, primarily Long Bow MK.2s. A new flagship is acquired by the Legion, the former TDF Dauntless.

AL:120: first communication with the syldrathi. War declared between Terra and her allies and Syldra. AL remains neutral and offers aid to those caught in the crossfire. Heavy losses incurred. First large scale deployment of Polearms, who can stand toe to toe with sydrathi vessels 50% larger than themselves

AL:130: Completion of phases 3,4, and 5 (done concurrently) introduction of the Longbow MK.4, notable for its complete redesign of defensive plating, engines, and weapons to massive effect, and initial testing of Blockhouse class Carriers and their sister class Iron Cannon Cruisers. Active fleet reach’s 1000.

AL:138: the Battle of Orion. Huge losses among aurora legion forces, loss of last remaining Dreadnought class cruiser. 20th Blockhouse/Iron cannon class vessel enters service.

AL:150: Battle of Aurora, station heavily damaged by Rahaam fleet, 33% of active personnel lost. Gladius class picket ship introduced, designed to be manned by only 3 crew. Due to damage, phases 6 and 7 are started ahead of schedule, to be completed by AL:175. Battleship Dauntless lost along with Admiral Adams.

AL:157: Tyler Jones selected as new Admiral of the fleet, and orders a shifting of footing to a humanitarian stance.

might do a speculative future timeline as well. Might come back to this later and patch it up in really tired RN.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 26: Gallifrey at War Part 4

TW: classic Gallifrey at War death, destruction, and violation of autonomy

Cass Fermazzi's ship was crashing only because the Time Lords had indiscriminately opened fire on a group of ships.

The War in Heaven had 920 fronts across space and time.

The Twelfth Doctor assisted the General in the War Room while the first thirteen incarnations of the Doctor were working to freeze Gallifrey in a pocket universe.

The Beyond was a place created by the Last Great Time War where overwritten timelines got remembered. While here, Braxiatel was devoured by one of the Ravenous.

This specific Ravenous had once been Zara, a soldier in the Last Great Time War who was being forced to relive the explosion of a star she had gotten caught up in over and over again.

Lehena had Susan go back to 1963 Earth to collect the Hand of Omega. Unfortunately, she had been a Dalek duplicate, and the Daleks wanted to use the Hand to destroy Gallifrey. The Eighth Doctor recognized Lehena as a duplicate of a Time Lord in the year above him at the Academy that he had had a massive crush on.

The Venue Accords were the only attempt at a peace treaty made during the War in Heaven. Negotiations lasted a single picosecond, and they concluded that peace was impossible.

The Tharils, Porfue, and Krajonnu were all forcibly sterilized by Rassilon during the Last Great Time War to ensure that there would be no other time-traveling races to threaten the might of Gallifrey.

The Clock-People were humanoids with clockfaces instead of human ones. They were the remains of members of the Faction Paradox clinging to life after the War in Heaven. They could manipulate and corrupt others' biodata to insert themselves in their timelines.

During Remembrance of the Daleks before stopping at Harry's cafe, the Seventh Doctor was contacted by the same Time Lord messenger from Genesis of the Daleks (by some accounted named Jelpax, Valyes, Ferrain, etc). The Time Lord warned the Doctor of a counterstrike that was being made by the Daleks - part of the Last Great Time War. The Doctor became concerned for the Hand of Omega and ended up electrocuting a Slyther that the Daleks had been using to obtain it.

During the Last Great Time War, the Doctor and the Master were both hit with a degeneration gun, causing them to uncontrollably flick between all their different faces, including ones they hadn't even had yet.

Once Padrac had become a member of the High Council, he discovered that Gallifrey would be destroyed in the future, possibly by time war, invasion, etc. The only projected future where Gallifrey would survive was the future in which only Gallifrey remained, so Padrac set about to destroy the whole universe and convert their life force into regeneration energy to make the Time Lords immortal.

A tour operator took advantage of Gallifrey's fall after the War in Heaven to organize time tourism. They said that since the Time Lords and the Enemy used time travel to pre-empt each other, the War was continuously getting shorter, its climax getting closer and closer to present day.

The Tenth Doctor became embroiled in the Last Great Time War again when the War Master sent him telepathic summons. During this time, both of them were restrained and telepathically contained by the High Vectors (to be put on trial and probably erased), but the Master managed to escape and erase them before this could happen. The Master then retrieved the Doctor, and they parted ways.

Scarlette - one of the many who had at one point married the Doctor - was a child of the Faction Paradox's remembrance tanks in Pompeii.

Two other time wars that predate the Last Great Time War include the Halldon-Eternal skirmish and the Omnicraven Uprising.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[inmateofthemind]

Have Some TWST Fan Lore Part 1: The Arcane Exchange

First of all, credit to @cyanide-latte for coming up with the event name because it just sounds so lovely, doesn't it?

Now, the Arcane Exchange itself is a fairly straightforward "what it says on the tin situation"; it's Twisted Wonderland's version of a student exchange program.

For approximately three months a year (my friends & I are currently working off the idea that this begins very shortly after the end of Book 4's events), students from various arcane academies will host each other and participate in certain events meant to strengthen the bond between the schools without it necessarily having to be competitive. After all, one of the last events that happens before the students are sent back to their respective schools is the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair that mainly works as an expo/convention (aside from the SDC, but you know).

There's a fairly substantial number of students from each school that get selected to participate, and then those various groups are semi-randomly split up amongst the other academies. (i.e Night Raven will host only some of the students from the other academies. Meanwhile, the NRC students going abroad for the exchange will be separated among the other schools).

In the case of Night Raven specifically, all visiting students are distributed amongst the seven dorms in a shared learning experience 'like a great big sleepover'. This is met with mixed results most times, but nothing too crazy since there are enough empty beds based on the number of NRC students having gone off to the other academies.

Speaking of, lets get into the schools involved in the Arcane Exchange!

Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy are the obvious picks, but that's also a rather obvious recipe for disaster due to their long-established rivalry...if left on their own, at least. Hence the inclusion of other schools to act as a kind of buffer that actually tends to work due to the neutrality of the other two schools.

Noble Bell College does participate(probably the least since they seem to be the smallest school in both scope & population), and the group of myself, Cy, @ramshacklerumble, and @simons-twsted-children have even recently discussed an interesting debate on whether Noble Bell is co-ed. This is important due to the final participant of the Arcane Exchange.

Corlux Key Seminary(CKS), a paramilitary arcane institution of my own creation that will be discussed in more detail in a later post. Corlux is explicitly co-ed in both students and staff; the gender distribution is almost perfectly split down the middle if not outright in favor of the female-identifying population. Despite this progressiveness, however, the Arcane Exchange a bit of an interesting sticking point for CKS (& NBC to a certain extent). While the male students can be assigned to whatever institution they like, the female students of both schools are only ever exchanged with each other. In regard to any potential PR nightmare an incident occurring on campus could cause, this makes sense. Doesn't mean it's not a bit sexist though.

The Arcane Exchange is a fairly standard practice that has even fostered some grand shows of academic comradery, though there have been some....memorable moments over the years as well. For instance, the Arcane Exchange that happened the year before TWST canon starts was Not Fun for NRC as hosts because both the RSA & CKS kids were terrible. As in 'it was considered the 'trial by fire' for both Riddle as a freshman-year Housewarden & the OctoTrio as the staff of the newly-opened Mostro Lounge' kind of terrible. As such, none of the Housewardens are particularly excited when the meeting before the start of the canon-year's exchange approaches. And they're about to feel a lot more ill-at-ease when Crowley rather casually drops this little bombshell;

For the first time since the start of this most noble tradition, Night Raven College will be opening its doors to a selection of female students from Corlux as a kind of experiment of 'broadening horizons & relations' between the academies. If this particular Aracne Exchange proves to be successful (meaning nobody does anything to 'embarrass' NRC and/or CKS), then there's the chance of expanding the openings for female students to participate at RSA's end of the Exchange as well as Noble Bell being able to similarly 'branch out' as it were.

Now that begs the question; is Crowley really about to let a relatively small group of girls onto an all-boys campus & just have them shack-up in the dorms? "NO! Absolutely not; I would never do anything so foolish and dangerous to those promising young pupils! As a matter of fact, I have arranged for all of the female participants to have accommodations all to themselves for their comfort and safety. Oh how generous I am; it's almost unnerving!" Now if only Crowley had thought to mention to the host of those accommodations that they're about to find themselves with a LOT more roommates than the usual weasel.

Apologies to one Gia Yugo...

NOT! This is going to be fun~ >:)

Taglist: @cyanide-latte @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @ramshacklerumble (let me know if you also want to be tagged)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Azeen Ghorayshi

Published: May 13, 2024

After 30 years as one of England’s top pediatricians, Dr. Hilary Cass was hoping to begin her retirement by learning to play the saxophone.

Instead, she took on a project that would throw her into an international fire: reviewing England’s treatment guidelines for the rapidly rising number of children with gender distress, known as dysphoria.

At the time, in 2020, England’s sole youth gender clinic was in disarray. The waiting list had swelled, leaving many young patients waiting years for an appointment. Staff members who said they felt pressure to approve children for puberty-blocking drugs had filed whistle-blower complaints that had spilled into public view. And a former patient had sued the clinic, claiming that she had transitioned as a teenager “after a series of superficial conversations with social workers.”

The National Health Service asked Dr. Cass, who had never treated children with gender dysphoria but had served as the president of the Royal College of Pediatrics and Child Health, to independently evaluate how the agency should proceed.

Over the next four years, Dr. Cass commissioned systematic reviews of scientific studies on youth gender treatments and international guidelines of care. She also met with young patients and their families, transgender adults, people who had detransitioned, advocacy groups and clinicians.

Her final report, published last month, concluded that the evidence supporting the use of puberty-blocking drugs and other hormonal medications in adolescents was “remarkably weak.” On her recommendation, the N.H.S. will no longer prescribe puberty blockers outside of clinical trials. Dr. Cass also recommended that testosterone and estrogen, which allow young people to develop the physical characteristics of the opposite sex, be prescribed with “extreme caution.”

Dr. Cass’s findings are in line with several European countries that have limited the treatments after scientific reviews. But in America, where nearly two dozen states have banned the care outright, medical groups have endorsed the treatments as evidence-based and necessary.

The American Academy of Pediatrics declined to comment on Dr. Cass’s specific findings, and condemned the state bans. “Politicians have inserted themselves into the exam room, which is dangerous for both physicians and for families,” Dr. Ben Hoffman, the organization’s president, said.

The Endocrine Society told The New York Times that Dr. Cass’s review “does not contain any new research” that would contradict its guidelines. The federal health department did not respond to requests for comment.

Dr. Cass spoke to The Times about her report and the response from the United States. This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What are your top takeaways from the report?

The most important concern for me is just how poor the evidence base is in this area. Some people have questioned, “Did we set a higher bar for this group of young people?” We absolutely didn’t. The real problem is that the evidence is very weak compared to many other areas of pediatric practice.

The second big takeaway for me is that we have to stop just seeing these young people through the lens of their gender and see them as whole people, and address the much broader range of challenges that they have, sometimes with their mental health, sometimes with undiagnosed neurodiversity. It’s really about helping them to thrive, not just saying “How do we address the gender?” in isolation.

You found that the quality of evidence in this space is “remarkably weak.” Can you explain what that means?

The assessment of studies looks at things like, do they follow up for long enough? Do they lose a lot of patients during the follow-up period? Do they have good comparison groups? All of those assessments are really objective. The reason the studies are weak is because they failed on one or more of those areas.

The most common criticism directed at your review is that it was in some way rigged because of the lack of randomized controlled trials, which compare two treatments or a treatment and a placebo, in this field. That, from the get-go, you knew you would find that there was low-quality evidence.

People were worried that we threw out anything that wasn’t a randomized controlled trial, which is the gold standard for study design. We didn’t, actually.

There weren’t any randomized controlled trials, but we still included about 58 percent of the studies that were identified, the ones that were high quality or moderate quality. The kinds of studies that aren’t R.C.T.s can give us some really good information, but they have to be well-conducted. The weakness was many were very poorly conducted.

There’s something I would like to say about the perception that this was rigged, as you say. We were really clear that this review was not about defining what trans means, negating anybody’s experiences or rolling back health care.

There are young people who absolutely benefit from a medical pathway, and we need to make sure that those young people have access — under a research protocol, because we need to improve the research — but not assume that that’s the right pathway for everyone.

[ The Tavistock Gender Identity Development Service in London, which until recently was the National Health Service’s sole youth gender clinic in England. ]

Another criticism is that this field is being held to a higher standard than others, or being exceptionalized in some way. There are other areas of medicine, particularly in pediatrics, where doctors practice without high-quality evidence.

The University of York, which is kind of the home of systematic reviews, one of the key organizations that does them in this country, found that evidence in this field was strikingly lower than other areas — even in pediatrics.

I can’t think of any other situation where we give life-altering treatments and don’t have enough understanding about what’s happening to those young people in adulthood. I’ve spoken to young adults who are clearly thriving — a medical pathway has been the right thing for them. I’ve also spoken to young adults where it was the wrong decision, where they have regret, where they’ve detransitioned. The critical issue is trying to work out how we can best predict who’s going to thrive and who’s not going to do well.

In your report, you are also concerned about the rapid increase in numbers of teens who have sought out gender care over the last 10 years, most of whom were female at birth. I often hear two different explanations. On the one hand, there’s a positive story about social acceptance: that there have always been this many trans people, and kids today just feel freer to express who they are. The other story is a more fearful one: that this is a ‘contagion’ driven in large part by social media. How do you think about it?

There’s always two views because it’s never a simple answer. And probably elements of both of those things apply.

It doesn’t really make sense to have such a dramatic increase in numbers that has been exponential. This has happened in a really narrow time frame across the world. Social acceptance just doesn’t happen that way, so dramatically. So that doesn’t make sense as the full answer.

But equally, those who say this is just social contagion are also not taking account of how complex and nuanced this is.

Young people growing up now have a much more flexible view about gender — they’re not locked into gender stereotypes in the way my generation was. And that flexibility and fluidity are potentially beneficial because they break down barriers, combat misogyny, and so on. It only becomes a challenge if we’re medicalizing it, giving an irreversible treatment, for what might be just a normal range of gender expression.

What has the response to your report been like in Britain?

Both of our main parties have been supportive of the report, which has been great.

We have had a longstanding relationship with support and advocacy groups in the U.K. That’s not to say that they necessarily agree with all that we say. There’s much that they are less happy about. But we have had an open dialogue with them and have tried to address their questions throughout.

I think there is an appreciation that we are not about closing down health care for children. But there is fearfulness — about health care being shut down, and also about the report being weaponized to suggest that trans people don’t exist. And that’s really disappointing to me that that happens, because that’s absolutely not what we’re saying.

I’ve reached out to major medical groups in the United States about your findings. The American Academy of Pediatrics declined to comment on your report, citing its own research review that is underway. It said that its guidance, which it reaffirmed last year, was “grounded in evidence and science.”

The Endocrine Society said “we stand firm in our support of gender-affirming care,” which is “needed and often lifesaving.”

I think for a lot of people, this is kind of dizzying. We have medical groups in the United States and Britain looking at the same facts, the same scientific literature, and coming to very different conclusions. What do you make of those responses?

When I was president of the Royal College of Pediatrics and Child Health, we did some great work with the A.A.P. They are an organization that I have enormous respect for. But I respectfully disagree with them on holding on to a position that is now demonstrated to be out of date by multiple systematic reviews.

It wouldn’t be too much of a problem if people were saying “This is clinical consensus and we’re not sure.” But what some organizations are doing is doubling down on saying the evidence is good. And I think that’s where you’re misleading the public. You need to be honest about the strength of the evidence and say what you’re going to do to improve it.

I suspect that the A.A.P., which is an organization that does massive good for children worldwide, and I see as a fairly left-leaning organization, is fearful of making any moves that might jeopardize trans health care right now. And I wonder whether, if they weren’t feeling under such political duress, they would be able to be more nuanced, to say that multiple truths exist in this space — that there are children who are going to need medical treatment, and that there are other children who are going to resolve their distress in different ways.

Have you heard from the A.A.P. since your report was published?

They haven’t contacted us directly — no.

Have you heard from any other U.S. health bodies, like the Department of Health and Human Services, for example?

No.

Have you heard from any U.S. lawmakers?

No. Not at all.

Pediatricians in the United States are in an incredibly tough position because of the political situation here. It affects what doctors feel comfortable saying publicly. Your report is now part of that evidence that they may fear will be weaponized. What would you say to American pediatricians about how to move forward?

Do what you’ve been trained to do. So that means that you approach any one of these young people as you would any other adolescent, taking a proper history, doing a proper assessment and maintaining a curiosity about what’s driving their distress. It may be about diagnosing autism, it may be about treating depression, it might be about treating an eating disorder.

What really worries me is that people just think: This is somebody who is trans, and the medical pathway is the right thing for them. They get put on a medical pathway, and then the problems that they think were going to be solved just don’t go away. And it’s because there’s this overshadowing of all the other problems.

So, yes, you can put someone on a medical pathway, but if at the end of it they can’t get out of their bedroom, they don’t have relationships, they’re not in school or ultimately in work, you haven’t done the right thing by them. So it really is about treating them as a whole person, taking a holistic approach, managing all of those things and not assuming they’ve all come about as a result of the gender distress.

I think some people get frustrated about the conclusion being, well, what these kids need is more holistic care and mental health support, when that system doesn’t exist. What do you say to that?

We’re failing these kids and we’re failing other kids in terms of the amount of mental health support we have available. That is a huge problem — not just for gender-questioning young people. And I think that’s partly a reflection of the fact that the system’s been caught out by a growth of demand that is completely outstripping the ability to provide it.

We don’t have a nationalized health care system here in the United States. We have a sprawling and fragmented system. Some people have reached the conclusion that, because of the realities of the American health care system, the only way forward is through political bans. What do you make of that argument?

Medicine should never be politically driven. It should be driven by evidence and ethics and shared decision-making with patients and listening to patients’ voices. Once it becomes politicized, then that’s seriously concerning, as you know well from the abortion situation in the United States.

So, what can I say, except that I’m glad that the U.K. system doesn’t work in the same way.

-

When asked after this interview about Dr. Cass’s comments, Dr. Hoffman, the A.A.P.’s president, said that the group had carefully reviewed her report and “added it to the evidence base undergoing a systematic review.” He also said that “Any suggestion the American Academy of Pediatrics is misleading families is false.”

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