#i need to make a little character chart first :^)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

has there been any information about the first years and their grades? :0 ive seen somewhere in the magical archive that there was a segment showing who was most motivated for the respective classes and was wondering if you knew anything about it ^^ and im also kinda curious to see how you would rank the first years in terms of their academics or "street smartness" cuz i think ortho might just do the best in both since he has access to all kinds of info in his data base haha but im still pretty curious to see how you would rank them ^^

Most of the information on the first years' grades we have is centered on Grim, Ace, and Deuce. This makes sense, as they are the main three of Yuu's friend group and the ones we spend the most time with. We hear a little about Epel, Jack, and Sebek's grades, but a lot of it we'd have to infer based on context clues, and basically none for Ortho, who only recently became a student at the end of book 6.

As you've said, there are indeed charts in the Magical Archives showing each student's motivation in Magic History, Alchemy, and Flight. However, high motivation does not always equal good results (as we see with Deuce), and nor do these charts cover ALL the subjects the students are in.

I’m not comfortable ranking characters in this instance because I feel it’s not an accurate reflection of anyone’s capabilities, particularly in the academic sense. Every person learns differently and has different skillsets, so I find it unfair to say one is clearly “better” or “worse” than another.

In the rest of this post, I will simply be discussing the first years individually, their pros and cons in the classroom and on the streets, etc.

Firstly, to cover academics:

Riddle states that not a single person has dropped out of Heartslabyul since he took over as dorm leader, so that means both Ace and Deuce have to at least be passing their classes. Now, between these two, Ace is the smarter one. He is shown to have excellent memorization skills (Riddle points this out in Ace's Dorm Uniform vignette) and gets through math problems at a normal pace (he finished his weekly assignment) compared to Deuce (who only answered 2 questions out of 30 pages' worth of them; see: Deuce's Dorm Uniform vignettes). The problem with Ace is that he doesn't think to apply himself; he's shown skipping ceremonies and classes (his Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Playful Land, etc.) and tries to take shortcuts to good grades, like taking Azul's deal in book 3, buttering Trey up to figure out the contents of an upcoming exam, and straight-up just copying homework answers sometimes (in Ace's School Uniform vignette).

Deuce is the opposite of Ace; he is highly motivated to do well and become an honors student but, despite his best efforts, he tends to fall short. (It appears that Deuce tries to study hard on his own time, but tends to be distracted, as we see in his Dorm Uniform vignettes and his Relax in Room vignettes.) In middle school, Deuce was a delinquent who frequently skipped classes and talked back to teachers, meaning he is already walking into high school with a knowledge gap that most of his peers don't have. For example, Deuce struggles with a math problem that Cater says he should have learned in middle school (from Deuce's Dorm Uniform vignettes). He self-describes as a "slow learner" and reports that his grades "always stayed below average" in book 5. It's apparently the usual for Deuce to score under 80, as he expresses surprise in book 3: "I got an 88! I never thought I'd see the day I scored over 80." Math is a particular weakness, but Deuce appears to struggle in many subjects and needs extra help or to attend remedials with peers or teachers. Even with this, he doesn't seem to be doing so hot.

Grim is similar to different aspects of Ace and Deuce academics-wise. Crowley calls Grim's enthusiasm for magic "wonderful" but wishes that Grim would take classes more seriously, behaved a bit better, and stopped complaining. Though Grim has aspirations to become a great mage (like Deuce), he fails to apply himself (like Ace). Grim's often slacking, cutting class or falling asleep in while studying, guessing answers on assignments, and willing to take shortcuts to get good grades (like taking Azul's deal). Grim doesn’t have the threat of Riddle beheading him to keep him from failing, but since he and Yuu make up “one” student unit, it’s possible that either Yuu’s grades keep them in good standing OR that Grim is just barely on the cusp of passing/failing for most or all classes. He reports that "Sebek laughed when he saw my test scores." Grim's often being scolded or lectured by teachers (in Crowley, Crewel, and Trein's vignettes). Trein in particular states that Grim is "nowhere near average" and that Grim could not correctly answer "a single question on the fundamentals". Indeed, Grim often seems very confused or uninformed on commonly known aspects of Twisted Wonderland, such as magift/spelldrive and various holidays (though whether this is an excuse to explain things to the player or not is debatable).

Jack is a diligent person who goes to sleep at 10 pm every night and stresses the importance of exercise, studying, and keeping to a strict regiment. His aim is self betterment in all forms. Jack also believes in playing fair, so he earnestly studies and doesn’t look to dishonest methods. He states that he "always [aims] for the top scores in every subject anyway" (from Jack's P.E. Uniform vignette) and expresses admiration for Riddle, who "always ranks first in the written exams" and "[not being] scared of putting in some effort" (from Jack's Ceremonial Robes vignettes). Given Jack's personal drive and the respect he gives to those performing well academically, I'd say that Jack's own grades must be good to reflect this.

Epel excels in Potionology and has expressed on multiple occasions that his goal in life is to use his magical studies to make farming easier for the folks back home (a majority of which are the elderly or older people). In Epel's Labwear vignettes, we see that he makes his own special fertilizer and works well with plants, as he is easily able to extract nectar from a lanternblossom (which normally takes a few years to bloom). Even then, Epel drives himself to continue learning more on the subject: “I’ve got a lot of learning to do! If I keep up my potionology studies, maybe I could outdo the housewarden/dorm leader himself!” We also know Epel loves flying and excels at it, being a member of the school Magift/Spelldrive Club. We could probably assume his grades are pretty good (especially considering he’d probably want to avoid Vil lecturing him).

One thing I did want to mention is that, outside of school, Epel is forced to take lessons in singing, ballet, beauty, etiquette, etc. under Pomefiore’s roof. He is notably much less enthused about these than he is with agriculture, so we could extrapolate this to mean that Epel does well in subjects he is already interested in but has issues with or actively pushes against subjects he isn’t interested in.

Ortho is running on cheat codes by virtue of being an android. He has access to an internet search engine at all times and can look up anything in the blink of an eye. He is also equipped with the tech to run simulations and determine the most likely outcome of hundreds of thousands of situations at once. There’s probably tons of other functions we don’t know about that Ortho had access to. I think Ortho definitely does well with concrete assignments, but may have issues with more abstract concepts. He had to watch several films to understand how to imitate human emotions (Birthday Boy vignettes, College Gear vignette). Furthermore, Fairy Gala: If centers on Ortho trying to synthesize his own understanding of “evolution” and apply it to a fashion show. It’s clear that his being a robot grants him academic advantages, but it also limits him in areas that aren’t ruled by facts and logic.

Finally, we come to Sebek! According to Silver, “[Sebek] always [does] so well in class.” This should be of no surprise, as Sebek feels he must be at his best as a retainer to Malleus, else it would bring shame to his master’s name. In his Outdoor Wear vignettes, Sebek goes so far as to scale a cliff to grab a lanternblossom, which is necessary for them to pass a particular Vargas Camp challenge. If that’s not sheer grit and determination, then I don’t know what is? Sebek also seems mock others or rub it in when he sees their inferior grades (as we see with Grim) and is unsatisfied when he does not receive full marks (Dorm Uniform vignettes) which… well, given his penchant to loudly declare how much better he and/or fae are than humans, he may get some joy out of. Where he falters is group work; Sebek is often getting into arguments with peers and refusing to work with them—and while you could argue this is something most NRC students do, it’s a particular issue with Sebek. (His Dorm Uniform vignettes even focus on this!)

In terms of “street smartness”:

Ace's best asset in this area is his ability to smooth talk and lie with ease. We have many examples of this, such as him distracting the Atlantica Memorial Museum guards by acting excited about meeting merfolk, glazing Leona in Endless Halloween Night so he could use the much stronger dorm leader to keep Floyd at bay, trying to get test answers from Trey (in Ace's own School Uniform vignette), and pretending to be the Ace NPC in Riddle's book 7 dream. He would probably be able to get himself out of most stick situations just by talking his way out of them. I'd honestly consider Ace the MOST street smart of all the first years for this very reason.

Deuce seems pretty clueless in the classroom, but he's also sort of dense and awkward in social situations. For example, he loudly proclaims he didn't see anything after learning Azul is embarrassed about his past (which only calls more attention to it) and readily believes whatever he is told (like wondering why there is a "girl" at NRC when Grim comments Epel is a cute girl in book 1). Deuce could likely muscle his way out of tough situations, but I can't imagine he would feel particularly great about it (as we see him being hard on himself after the egg incident of book 1).

Grim isn't the best in terms of street smarts; he usually is ruled by his own desires (eating + which involve getting out of work) and hardly considers those of others. Again, he doesn't seem to know much about Twisted Wonderland and he acts inappropriately so often. Some extreme examples are him chowing down on a butcher's hanging ham without warning in Eternity Float and frequently whining in order to get what he wants (which is typically tagging along on story events).

Jack isn't friendly and presents himself as a lone wolf, though he quickly conforms to pack hierarchy and his seniors + those he considers "better" than him. He seems to be observant, as Jack is quick to figure out what Floyd's UM is and that Azul is an octopus merman. However, Jack generally doesn't take too kindly to being approached by others and brushes them off. He also insists that he wants to play by the rules and is disappointed by others who fail to do the same. I think he'd be able to physically intimidate people giving him trouble. Jack has enough common sense (plus the enhanced hearing, sense of smell, etc. of a beastman) to be navigate by himself just fine, though he could be taken advantage of due to his naivete and moral compass + belief that others have good morals as well.

Epel comes from a village that is mostly older adults and hardly any kids his age--and the few kids that he did interact with, he seems to have beaten them up for making fun of his feminine appearance. Vil has since tried to instill some manners into Epel, but his true self still peaks through on occasion. If anything, Epel seems like he'd attract trouble because of how unassuming he looks, only to get progressively pissed off at how others are treating him and hitting his breaking point. It depends on how his patience is doing at that point, what kinds of comments he's dealing with, and whether or not a tattletale is around to report him to Vil for snapping. If he's in the clear, Epel might play innocent and then get a good wallop in like he did in book 5's beach scene.

Again, Ortho had to absorb manmade media in order to understand and learn how to imitate human behaviors and emotions. This means he may be limited in knowing what is and isn't appropriate to do based on what content he has taken in. For the most part, Ortho is able to remain calm and courteous to his peers, but he has also shown he is quick to anger if you hit the right pressure points, like bullying his brother. He threatened to blow up the whole school if no one bothered to rescue Idia in Ghost Marriage, as Ortho deemed this the "most efficient" solution. Ortho also tries to fire his laser beam at mob students who insult Idia (in Ortho's Ignihyde Gear vignettes). I don't know if I would call Ortho the most "street smart" if his immediate solution to solving problems is to render those problems into literal ashes instead of... talking it out or ignoring them?

Sebek has limited street smarts as well. Briar Valley doesn't have many kids his age, so he didn't have much experience socializing with people outside of his own siblings and Silver. His haughtiness and thunderous voice turns off many of his peers from willingly interacting with him, and this is an issue so bad that Lilia asks of us to support Sebek in book 7. His tendency to get combative and competitive, even over tiny things, is also not... great. Additionally, Sebek has very old-fashioned views and extols whatever he is told by Malleus, Lilia, and his grandfather (sometimes blabbing excessively about them). He has many points against him in this regard.

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

top 5 one piece writers/artists?

combo of both!

artists

@wtfforged - i love the way everything nicky draws is SHAPE SHAPES SHAPES and BOLD FLAT COLORS i think it makes for such a unique and dynamic style!! plus he does the cutest silliest zoros and i love them sooooooooooooooooo much they make me so happy. whenever i need a cute zoro pick-me-up nicky is my first stop.

@snazzynewton - snazzy has really nice line weight in all of their stuff but esp in their traditional medium sketches (which i personally have a soft spot for) and i love the way they do cross hatching as shading because 1) cross hatching as shading is one of my favorite techniques and 2) it’s very evocative of the actual one piece art style imo, since oda does the same thing. and i adore the warm color palette they give zoro, i think it’s so perfect for him. also like. have you seen this art of zoro with chickens. 100/10 i am being fed so well.

authors

@shrimpheavnnoww {AO3} - i love love LOVE the way ash writes sanji, i think they do such a good job balancing him between silly little guy, pathetic floundering mess, and snarky asshole with TEETH. i find a lot of fic tends to have a hard time striking that particular balance in a way that i like so reading ash’s stuff is always such a delight. also ash and i are on like, the exact same wavelength about most zosan stuff so when i want to read something that suits my exact tastes but wasn’t written by me (lol) their fic is where i go.

@agnesclementineblog {Ao3} - agnes has an excellent catalogue of trans zoro fic that i adore and it’s honestly what prompted me to try my hand at writing trans zoro. they have a really nice mix of serious emotional fic, cute silly fic, and steamy smut fic so any time i’m in the mood for any of those i often just reread their stuff instead of searching for new fic lol. and i think they do a good job of giving zoro a lot of good character dimension and not just turning him into a big dumb musclehead, which i very much appreciate.

@prophecydungeon {Ao3} - i’ve only known about basia’s fic for a month and a half but if anything happened to it i would kill everyone in the fandom and then myself and it’s so good it makes me want to gnaw my own arm off. like the imagery they invoke is absolutely gorgeous and the tension they weave is just OFF THE CHARTS and i love how they don’t isolate their zosan from the rest of the crew but in fact make the rest of the crew integral to how zosan works. zoro and sanji are not who they are without the rest of the straw hats and basia understands that so fucking well it’s unreal.

(also, if you want to read the hottest set of handjobs in the entirety of the zosan tag on ao3, basia’s bodyswapped handjob fic is for you.)

[tooquirkytolose]

Happy Campers :)

(oooh you wanna read Camp Damascus, ooh you wanna read Camp Damascus so baadd!!)

[blueskittlesart]

is detcon actually good

no <3 hope this helps

[another-weird-sideblog]

The Little Prince (2010) as random incorrect textposts

I should really stop being dead on this account, sorry!

Also, apologies in advance for the horrid quality of some of the pics! I couldn't find the best screenshots from the show, and I had some trouble finding the original post for the texts (so I had to screenshot the screenshot.)

[tracle0]

Man hates his god

[dekuneho]

prohero!katsuki x reader — suggestive, mdni

Walking home alone at this hour is dangerous. Reckless, stupid. You'll get swallowed up by all kinds of creeps, your boyfriend told you once.

That’s why you need a hero to take care of you when this happens.

Pro Hero Dynamight — first in the official Chart, the bastard that makes all the villains shriek and the girls scream — makes this clear as he presses up against your back, thigh peeking between your legs, mouth to the shell of your ear — all for security, of course. He slides a heated hand from your hip to the curve of your thigh, his gloves rough on skin if it weren’t for the barrier of your jeans.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ out here all alone?” Dynamight rasps to your neck.

You gasp at the heat of his body towering over you, feeling a little weak in the knees. A big, strong Pro Hero cornering you like this… It’s a little scandalous. Your heart pounds for all the wrong reasons. “My— My boyfriend's working overtime. He’s a Pro, too, you see. A little too busy for me sometimes, Dynamight, sir.”

His big hand spans across your thigh, a steady weight that twitches at your formal address. It explores boldly. “A Pro, huh,” he echoes, gripping your chin to press his mouth against your jaw. “Looks like he ain’t doin’ his job to me.”

You shudder, and he follows it with a finger trailing up your spine near possessively, a dragon to his newly-found treasure. You tilt your head to meet the pierce of his red eyes, too helpless to not draw closer to the mouth that’s putting you in a trance with each filthy word. A handsome man like him, so eager to touch you... Who is to blame you, really? Your boyfriend’s left you a little needy.

“Ah, but — it’s okay.” You squirm and look up at him through your lashes. Coy and easy. “I’m used to taking care of myself. He’s busy enough.”

“He’s a jackass,” Dynamight says fiercely, half-distracted by your mouth.

You nearly break character, a little laugh slipping out. And with the way he grins, he knows what he’s doing wrong.

“Ahem. Dynamight, sir,” you return seamlessly, with the grace of a professional. Your back arches willingly as he drags you impossibly close, hip to hip. “We can’t… not like this. Someone might see.”

“Who gives a shit,” he says, then grips one whole thigh and squeezes appreciatively. “You’re already ruttin’ against me like a horndog, anyway.”

“Like a—” Incensed, you slap his chest, then hit it a few times more out of frustration. “Katsuki, gross! Stop ruining the scene, dammit.”

“What?” Katsuki’s frowns rather theatrically. The picture of innocence that doesn’t quite fit with his growing smug grin. “I didn’t ruin anything. Look, I’m still har—”

“Okay.” You exhale sharply, pushing away from him. Katsuki laughs, trying to pull you back to him, cooing. “You know what? Just skip the foreplay and take me home.”

[lunarcowgirl]

don't leave me here without you | one

yeah yeah fuck me, jack abbot x f!doctor!reader

you can read part two here and part three here

dr abbot finds your resume and thinks you are leaving the pitt - absolute disgusting and pathetic behaviour ensues, its all very endearing.

~~~

from the office of the author: DOn't even LOOK at me, I'm embarrassed. the pitt consumes my every waking thought so I'm going to make that everyone else's problem :)

this is my very first fic!!! it is a work of fiction!!!!! i do not know anything about being a doctor!!!!!! inaccuracies are none of my damn business!!!!!!!!!!

i can’t help but love the emotional constipation of jack and robby in this show, and i was feeling inspired by jack, so this is my attempt at unpacking a bit of it. reader is indeed reader, but i have formed a bit of a character in my head, so pls forgive me she does get a last name late in the piece. hope you enjoy!!!!! maybe more soon!!!!! <3

warnings: cussing, jack being pathetic, snooping based behaviours, mentions of loss of bodily function/traumatic injuries, mentions of war, mentions of covid, a spider may or not be guilty of a crime, miscommunication i fear, bad grammar from yours truely, bit o' angst

word count: 2.1k

Dr. Jack Abbot thought he was doing a very fine job not staring at you all shift long, thank you very much. It had gotten harder since you’d changed the way you’d done your hair, letting the blonde grow out. When the lights hit the top of your two fastidiously tied french braids it set the crown of your head on fire, like the sun itself sat behind you in some kind of imitation of a halo. angel indeed. You’d pierced your left ear again, yet another little golden hoop in the soft shell of cartilage at the very top. Every now and then, he would see you reach for it, as if to scratch an itch, but catch yourself before you could touch the still healing wound. The smallest, prettiest crease would form between your eyebrows, and your hand would curl into a tight fist of frustration. You were going to be the absolute death of him.

The last trauma had been difficult; damage to the neck not only making finding an airway close to impossible, but suggested a grim future for the patients ability to move as he once did. Walking was now in question. Fucking e-scooters, they were starting to offer up more victims than motorbikes. It had been an excruciating emotional dance to explain to the teenager’s recently widowed mother, that her 15 year old’s life would now be dramatically different, that she was going to have to take on a new burden. The quiet, contained grief in her eyes, not breaking contact with his, was just about all he could take for this shift.

It was easy then, to justify a little bit of gratuitous selfishness in front of the board; the easiest place to catch a glimpse of you. This shift you’d remained calm and switched on, as you always were, but something was clearly scratching at your mind. Standing dutifully behind Jack as he spoke to the mother, gently answering her questions, offering sincere condolences, introducing her to Kiara had all been done with perfect form. but when it was done, you had all but fled back to the nurses’ station, logging onto one of the computers at break neck speed.

This is where you now sat, chin resting on your linked fingers, eyes in a predatory narrow. Without meaning to, without really realising it was happening, Jack let himself drift slowly around the desk. On his journey closer to you he let his hands fall into nonchalant, non-suspicious motion. Adjusting the cord of the landline, running his finger over some forms to see if they needed his signature, flicking on a tablet to consider the chart on it. He didn’t really have the time to think too hard about it, but some small voice in the back of his head told him he looked like a fucking idiot. Jesus Christ, he’d committed now.

To get a decent angle of your screen he would have to step back a little from the desk, making it pretty damn obvious he was snooping. If it was only a glance, just a few seconds, he should be in the clear. Mindful not to get to close (you seemed to have eyes in the back of your head when it came to him, probably since he was your attending), he took one last scan of the room to check no one was clocking every last shuffle he was taking.

Pursing his lips with arms crossed tightly across his chest, he stepped back swiftly, eyes flicking down your screen. The majority of it was taken up by a word document, your name is bold letters across the top. Underneath was a jumble of dot points, places and years and accolades and societies—a resume?

A resume…your resume. You were leaving?

His heart went somersaulting into his stomach, bouncing off his ribs on the way down.

When had you decided this? Where were you going? When were you going to tell him?

Jack felt anger and grief and confusion and jealousy all at once in his veins like some kind of poisonous cocktail. What was he, some kind of teenager? What had he ever done to deserve an explanation from you? You, who was so wonderful and so clever and so funny and so so beautiful. You who had only ever weathered his grumpiness and sour expressions and poorly timed criticism with grace and patience. You who’d never figured out how to be a pessimist, who never let the bad days win. The thought of your absence was more painful than he could have ever expected — it scared him goddamn shitless.

“Dr Abbot?”

Dr Ellis had materialised out of nothing on the other side of the desk, one eyebrow cocked. Jack nearly tripped over his own feet to get away from you and the scalding sensation of shame burning across his face, “Ya?”

“Uh, can I get your eyes on a case in South 15? We’ve got a 10 year old, lethargic, sweaty, confused. Her parents are insistent she hasn’t ingested anything.”

Your head snapped up, finally divorced from whatever hypnotic pull the resume had on you.

“Does she have control over her extremities, fingers?”

Ellis frowned, “She was moving them a lot, almost obsessively. I figured if might just be a reaction to the confusion and being in a strange place.”

You stood in one fluid motion, hands quick to grab a pair of gloves, feet quick to dance around the station to get to Ellis’ side.

“Mind if I join? I think we need to look for a spider bite. Funnel-weavers are usually—”

And with that the pair of you were gone, walking shoulder to shoulder into the fray like soldiers in arms, conversing in low, practised tones. Ready to tackle whatever the inside of that room held; the scariness of having to diagnose quickly, the stress of terrified parents breathing down your neck. It didn’t matter how bitter-of-heart Jack had become after all the years of carnage, there was still a part of him that sang at the sight of a well-oiled team. It was selfish, he considered, to believe your leaving would effect just him. Every last doctor, nurse, support worker, radiologist, technician, transport aide, frequent flyer and desk clerk would mourn your loss. Perhaps the endearing Mel King most of all. She had taken to your cheerful demeanour and calm teaching style like someone drowning does to oxygen. In the time Langdon had been a voluntary inpatient, you had been a much needed rock in the stormy wake of that revelation. Another loss could send her off kilter again, and the ER needed her…badly.

So where exactly were you planning to run off to? Surely you wouldn’t go overseas again, not after what had brought you home the last time...

Morality was telling him to just walk away, to busy himself in some problem that likely was currently yearning for his help.

They hadn’t reached out had they? Could they convince you to go back?

He wished Bridget would just call for him, that Shen would bustle in with all his careful questions. But wishing would not make it so. And he had fought so long, all his life. The older he became, the easier it was to just surrender. To drift. The computer was about to fall asleep, locking it to the world. One swift movement of the mouse sealed his fate. He was a shameless snoop, a betrayer of privacy - your privacy.

It couldn’t be denied, the resume was impressive. Very, very impressive. How many graduating honours could one 30 something year old have? And the places you’d been, you’d practised - how many names could you possibly stack next to each other? Some of them he hadn’t even seen with his eyes, even after all the time in the camouflage pants that chaffed like you wouldn’t believe. You’d seen the very worst Covid had served up in Mexico City and Rio, you had been at the very front in Ukraine, in Afghanistan, traipsed all the way across North Africa and South America and just about every island in Indonesia. Pittsburgh, even with its fair share of tragedy, felt so foreign on the page next to all the adventure and danger. It would be easy to think that you had simply become bored, and wished once again to go somewhere that you could stem the flow of blood. Jack thought the blue beret would match the new blonde hair quite nicely.

“Dr Abbot?”

He froze. That voice. How long had he been staring at the carefully typed words, wishing they would reveal an answer?

There was no way, no way at all that he could gracefully and silently retreat from this one. He was elbow deep in the cookie jar, no better than a child, spited at not being told the grown up’s secret. He looked behind himself with humiliating slowness, feeling infinitely small and ashamed. The small crease between your brows had deepened into a valley he could not dig himself out of.

“Dr James.” He said, his voice sounding all together too loud and too far away, “If you are walking away from a computer in any circumstance other than a complete emergency, you must log off, there is confidential information of patients that must be protected from wandering eyes.”

“Wandering eyes?” You let a laugh escape, entirely hollow.

And then, with more steel then he had ever heard, “Can I speak with you privately for a minute?”

“Fine.” He said, straightening with an angry click from his back. Too old for all this high school shit. You made a point to lean past him, and log off with a few aggressively passive aggressive snaps of the keys.

He trailed behind your long, mechanical strides, deeply unsettled by the stiff set of your shoulders. Maybe you’d developed the ability to be negative in the time to took to stomp from the nurses’ station to the family room door, which you promptly shoulder charged open. Once it was safely closed behind both doctors, you whirled on him.

“What the hell were you doing looking at that?”

“Like I said, you need to log off—”

“Bullshit, Jack!” You looked wild, eyes impossibly wide, “There was no reason for your face to be 2 inches from the screen to log me out. Or have your eyes completely given out since the start of shift?”

If there was no way to dodge the bullet, he may as well try swallowing it, “What exactly do you plan on doing with that document? You gonna flee the country again? Run from all us sorry fucks here in the Pitt?”

You recoiled, like the venom in his words had actually struck your skin. Jack watched them sink in, the sizzle of their marks.

You shook your head once, looking down at your sneakers, the 10-year-too-old linoleum floors.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you.” The words were pulled straight from your chest at the end of meat hooks.

Jack opened his mouth to strike again, but your gaze shot upwards and locked onto his. The attacks died on his tongue.

“All I have done since I set foot in here was try and get close to you Jack Abbot. I have offered you my full attention, my utter respect and confidence and trust, all my effort, all my energy, everything I have.” You took an incredulous step backwards, unsteadied by your own words and the weight of them now sitting between you, “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, I would ride right on back into all the shit and misery all over again if that is what you asked of me.”

Something that looked frighteningly like a tear slipped down your cheek and off your chin.

“And what do you offer in return? You push and push and push me away.” The words wobbled now, exhausted from the revelation.

“What right do you have,” You gasped, “to now act betrayed about this? To declare you’ve always cared? Like its me that’s hurting you?!”

Killshot.

Jack’s mouth pressed into a hard line, a terrible burning spreading through the back of his eyes, a horrible pressure on his chest. All that time he had been pretending not to look at you, you had been staring straight through him into his very soul. Seeing every ugly inch of his insides. He wanted to run, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness at your feet.

Bridget rapped sharply on the door of the window, her face grave, “Car pileup on the highway, multiple traumas, 4 minutes out.”

By the time he turned back to you, your face had been schooled back into cool neutrality, a deep breath filling your lungs. Before Jack could reach out and touch you, you were gone, like you were never even there.

~~~~~

um, so yeah I guess? more soon! x

| next

[ghostlyferrettarot]

💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚Pick a Picture: All about the new era you are entering in your life💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️݁

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🐻Masterlist🐻 🐻Masterlist 2🐻

💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚Pile 1:

🃏 The Sun – Queen of Wands – The Empress

First of all pile 1, wow, im so happy for you. You're entering your "Main Character Era." Ifeel like you've lived in the background for a long time. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of habit, maybe because you were taught that being "too much" is uncomfortable. But that cycle has ended. What's coming now is a stage in which you're reconnecting with your power. You're letting go of asking permission to exist fully. The cards show me a rebirth! I know this transition can be scary. Because starting to live as the protagonist involves making new decisions, setting boundaries, letting go of what no longer resonates with you. You may even lose some connections. People who were used to a more accommodating or silent version of you may react with discomfort. But it's not your responsibility to make yourself small to sustain bonds that only survive if you disappear a little. It's time to grow, even if that means making yourself uncomfortable. You're also going to start seeing yourself differently. You're going to speak to yourself with more truth, asking yourself: "What do I want?". And the best part is, you don't even need to have all the answers. You just need the intention to never give up on yourself again. You're learning to trust yourself, even when everything isn't clear. You're healing that idea that you have to have everything under control to move. You're giving yourself permission to write your story. You're embodying the version of you that no longer wants to hide. That no longer needs external approval to shine. You don't need to do everything perfectly, because life isn't looking for someone flawless. It's looking for someone who has the it factor, and you do. Welcome to your Main Character Era!!!!

💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚Pile 2:

🃏 Ace of Cups – The Star – The Emperor

You are entering your IT GIRL ERA pile 2. And it's not just about style, or aesthetics (although i feel like you do have an eye for fashion), but rather a very clear energy. The world is beginning to see you as you already began to see yourself. This new chapter doesn't come out of nowhere. You've worked on your inner self. You've questioned a lot. You've felt invisible, out of place, displaced, or even exhausted from faking a version of yourself that didn't do you justice, but not anymore.

But you're going to start attracting attention, opportunities, even people, like a magnet. Why? Because your energy is aligned with your truth. You're no longer vibrating from insecurity. You're vibrating from the silent confidence of someone who knows what they're doing. You're going to start influencing others without even realizing it (maybe you will even start posting on social media). The way you dress, your decisions, your way of speaking or sharing your life, all of this is going to feel inspiring to others. You're setting trends just by being you. Prepare to receive unexpected compliments, new connections, moments of visibility that will take you by surprise; i also see a glow up on the way, you could be changing your makeup. But above all, prepare to feel good about yourself. You're reclaiming your space, your voice, your way of being in the world. And you no longer need to diminish yourself. You don't need to compete. You just need to be. And that's exactly what you're doing; so happy for you pile 2 <3.

💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚Pile 3:

🃏 6 of Wands – The Fool – Knight of Wands

OMG pile 3, You already felt it, right? That feeling that something huge is about to happen. As if you'd been preparing, not quite knowing what for, but with the certainty that all the internal work, the difficult decisions, were because of something bigger. Because now you're entering your FAMOUS ERA. You're about to be rewarded pile 3. But not for something superficial. You're being recognized for what you've built with your hands, with your heart, with your difficult decisions, with your truth. I see a long time project of yours succeding, or an idea you had that is finally coming true. This new era isn't easy. You could to reach places and people you never imagined. You're no longer turning down the volume on your power to be more "acceptable" or more "discreet." And yes, you're going to attract attention. You're going to be more visible. You're going to start feeling the energy moving differently. Maybe people start contacting you for new things. Maybe your social media presence is growing. Maybe your name is starting to appear in conversations you didn't even know you were even talking about. It's your moment. It may also be that you'll start generating more stable income or one that's more aligned with what you love. Maybe you'll launch something. Maybe you'll finish a project that seemed impossible. It could be a personal brand, a book, a community, a new career. This era also requires commitment. It requires that you believe in yourself even when imposter syndrome appears. It requires you to take care of yourself, to set boundaries, to honor your energy. And you need to keep choosing truth over validation. But don't worry. You already have the inner maturity to sustain this. You are no longer the old version that doubted its potential. So yes, welcome to your ✨FAMOUS ERA✨ pile 3.

💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!💿˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

[n0cturnalp1g]

Night Shift: 7:00AM

Summary: Two night gremlins surfaced into the daylight to help out. Characters: Attending!Female Reader (Sunshine) x Jack Abbot. Dana Evans. Samira Mohan. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch Word Count: 1363 Chapter Warnings: None

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

7:00AM 4th July 2025

“Should I be worried about allowing night gremlins into my dayshift?”

Your smile grew as you wrapped your arm around Dana’s waist and she hugged you right back. Charge Nurse Dana Evans was like the older sister you never had and when you learned about the lack of staff for the day, you knew you would help whatever ways you can.

“You should be more worried about Mr. Pill Popper over there.” Jack Abbot muttered under his breath and immediately earned himself a slap on the chest from you. “What?”

“Jack, that’s not nice!” You scolded, eyes darting to where Frank was at Bay 6, already deep into reviewing the charts for the patient with irregular heartbeat. “Don’t be cruel to him, he’s already been through so much already.” You requested.

And that was all it took. A sigh and a nod, Nightshift Senior Attending Dr. Jack Abbot was agreeing (relenting) with you.

“Sorry.” He muttered accepting the thermos of coffee from you before making his way to his first patient for the day.

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment. You worry about him, more than he wants you to. It’s not just any old worry you’ve used to. But it was the fact of what the day meant for him. 4th of July meant something to Jack once. But after losing too much of himself and the people he once cared for, the day was the worst of all the worst days he could be working. It was like deja vu all over again for you.

“Will he be alright?” Dana asked, leaning her arms against the nurse station, her own eyes following you as you still had your eyes on Jack. When he turned and caught you starting, he smiled, his usual playful smile before winking and sticking his tongue out.

“He will be.” You reassured her, finally turning back to look at Dana, a knowing look already on her face. “He wants to be.”

“So you and him?” She wiggled her brows, and the all too familiar smile already on her face.

“Don’t make it weird, Evans. It’s only been six months.” You muttered, finally pulling one of the tablets to review a patient’s order.

“But a little birdy told me someone’s already moved in with him.” Dana grinned and grew bigger now.

“Fucking Shen,” You muttered under your breath before finally relenting and looking back at Dana. “Yes! We’ve been officially dating for six months, did a month of just going out and having a nightcap before that.”

“Look at you melting the stone cold heart of that night gremlin.”

“He’s good to me.” You admitted. “Best damn thing to ever happen to me.” As the words left your tongue, it was the truth that you knew all too well. You’ve experienced worse, endured worse, yet here you were finally picked up all the pieces and that grumpy old man with a police scanner as white noise was making your life better than what you had before.

“He better. If I found out he even hurts a single hair from your head, I’ll bring the whole arsenal with him–I might even involve Robby into this.”

At the mention of the man, the smile momentarily faded from your lips before you put on a more tense smile. You wished Dana didn’t see it, you didn’t want to deal with the past you’ve tried too hard to bury, to protect yourself.

“We don’t need to involve the Chief here, I can handle Jack myself.” You muttered.

“Still can’t understand how he allowed you to move to the nightshift after Pittfest.” She shook her head. “He already lost too much in his corner after that night, can’t understand how he could let go of his second-in-command.”

“Don’t let Frank hear that or he’ll pout.” You redirected immediately wishing to steer the conversation away from Robby.

At the sound of your name, a genuine smile already formed on your face as you turned and was met with Dr. Samira Mohan, third-year medical resident and the doctor you see yourself most in since she stepped foot in the Pitt.

“Nice to see you’re up and running, Samira.” You greeted her.

“Heard the Sun was back and wanted to make sure I had my fix before she returned right back to the night.” she grinned and you allowed her to pulled you into a hug.

With Dana as an older sister, Samira was always like a little sister to you. For all the faults and chaos in the world, all she ever wanted was to make it a better place at her own pace–and nothing was wrong with that whatsoever.

“You being good to Dana while I was gone?” You playfully asked.

“She’s getting faster.” Dana commented, her attention back to the computer and the phone she was holding.

“Slow and steady wins the race.” You winked at her before your eyes turned to the Ambulance bay and your breath caught at the sudden arrival.

Robby. In the flesh.

But the most damning part was the fact that you no longer felt the ache you once constantly had every single time you looked at him during handovers. It was fading further and further until it was now just this lingering memory of what you once had with him that you’ve come to accept will never be ever again.

“Hi Chief.” You tried your best to put on a smile.

“Doctor.” His voice was clipped as his attention moved towards the patient board, already filling in before their very eyes.

“Gloria’s looking for you, Robby.” Dana reminded him.

“Again?” He groaned, eyes moving right back to you then towards Jack. “Can’t we offer Gloria the night gremlins for the weekly spanking?”

“Don’t pull us into your bullshift, Robby.” Jack called out from the other bay. “It’s not our problem if dayshift’s satisfaction rating dropped and ours rose.”

You refused to meet his eyes for that one. Knowing fully well the double meaning behind Jack’s words. You know what it means and you do not wish to be part of said conversation on the one day you’ve thought of helping out.

“Let’s do our rounds, Dr. Mohan?” You turned right back to Samira, a smile returning right back to normal as you followed her away from the nurse station.

You refused to look back, knowing perfectly well who was looking right through you. You had patients to look after, you had Jack to watch over. You no longer had the time for him.

~

“One of these days you need to tell me what made Sunny walk away.” Dana sighed, making Robby finally look right back at Dana, whose eyes were squarely on him.

“I don’t know.” He knew. But he was too much of a coward to admit it to anyone–especially Dana.

“Come on Cap, of course you know.” She leaned closer to him. “You know Jack is right, Sunshine is the best doctor we ever got here in the Pitt. We don’t call her Sunshine for nothin’. She gives and she gives and expects nothing in return. That doesn’t change after just one day.”

“It was the Pittfest.” He lied instead.

“Bullshit. She’s worked on a handful of mass shootings worse than the Fest. It’s been ten months now, but I could still remember those eyes looking so empty and dead when we were all headed out for the day. She didn’t even join you and the crew in the Park.”

“Something I can’t fix.” The words slipped and Dana’s eyes narrowed and the frown falling from her lips because of it.

“I get it.” She nodded, returning back to the computer. But those three words held so much weight and it almost made Robby break more than anything. Dana was always a confidant, but even she had been shielded from what had happened that night.

Maybe Robby feared that she would take your side, or maybe it was because he feared having someone else tell him that he was wrong. But he didn’t need that right now.

“Got an incoming Fireworks accident in 4 minutes, today’s gonna be bloody. God help us all.”

[sourwulf]

stiles comes to you after his female anatomy class and asks you to help. he says he’s never even watched torn so has never even seen a vagina, but yours is the first one he winds up seeing and eating out

༄  word count  —  2.3k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral, losing of virginity

☼  a/n— i have... severely neglected this blog

✎  masterlist

─

you were sitting on your couch watching tv, a root beer flavored sucker between your lips. you were channel surfing, nothing catching your eye. your front door opened unannounced, making your head whip towards it.

after it closed, the familiar face of stiles poked around the corner.

you sighed, glad it wasn't an intruder.

"hey," you greeted. "ever heard of knocking?"

"sorry, it's raining and the door was unlocked. i figured you wouldn't mind."

he kicked his shoes off and walked over to sit next to you, mimicking your position by crossing his arms.

"what flavor is that?" he asked, looking at the stick in your mouth.

"root beer."

"nice."

"so what's up?"

"i was hoping you could help me study."

"as long as it's not math."

"honestly, i kinda wish it was."

"why? what is it?"

"so... it's for my health class. we're doing a human anatomy course for the sex ed unit."

"and you need my help... why?"

"well... it's female anatomy." you raised your eyebrows. "you're the only person i'm comfortable with asking for help on this."

you just looked at him for a second before taking in a deep breath and turning off the tv.

"alright, fine."

within a couple of minutes you were both upstairs on your bed. you sat against your headboard, him laying on his side horizontal across the bed with his assignment in front of him.

so far, it was just multiple choice and fill in the blank questions. he was reading them out, getting your answers.

"what do the ovaries do?" he asked, a diagram of the uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes above the questions, with lines to label each.

"make hormones and contain eggs."

he skimmed the answers, finding the one that fit that description the best.

once he finished that chart, he flipped the page to see a very detailed diagram of a vagina, also with lines pointing to specific parts of it for him to label.

he looked at it for a moment, as if he was really studying it.

"vulva."

"i'm pretty sure that's just an all-inclusive word to include everything."

he circled the right answer

"what is the... clitoris? did i say that right?"

hearing stiles say the word 'clitoris' was a bit weird, but to be fair most people don't really say the full word.

"are you really asking me what the clit is?"

"yeah, what is it?"

you looked at him slightly in disbelief, chuckling a bit.

"come on, stiles."

"what?"

you were dumbfounded. everyone knows what the clit is.

"you've never even heard the word?"

"i've heard of it, i just don't know what it is."

"it's kind of obvious if you're looking at a vagina."

he shrugged. "never seen one. well, other than this drawing."

now this left you stunned. never seen a vagina? how was it possible for a teenage boy to never have seen one?

"you've watched porn, though."

he shook his head. "nope."

somehow he continued to shock you more with every sentence.

"never?"

"never."

"stiles, you're a teenage boy, and you're telling me you've never watched porn?"

"never needed to."

"the clitoris is... it's like a little bud above the vaginal opening. it's full of nerve endings and it's really only there for pleasure purposes."

"huh. interesting. can i ask you a question?"

"shoot."

"does every vagina look like this?"

"what do you mean?"

"like... are they all identical?"

"uh... no. every vagina is different. just like every penis is different. some of them are dangly, some are hairy, it just depends on the person."

"does yours look like this?"

your eyebrows dipped.

"did you really just ask me that?"

"i thought i was allowed to ask questions."

"yeah, general questions."

"that is a general question."

you sighed. "similar. but not really. i mean, they all have the same basic parts. but the anatomy is different sometimes."

he nodded. "wish i could see a real one up close."

it was kind of funny, how he was talking about vaginas like a specimen he could study.

"you will someday." he made eye contact with you and raised his eyebrows slightly. "stiles. you're not implying what i think you are, are you?"

"i mean... i'm not gonna say no."

"i'm not showing you my vagina!"

"that's not what i was asking, pervert," he said in an unconvincing tone.

to be completely honest, you weren't completely against the idea. the best way to learn was to see the real thing, not just a drawing.

you sighed. "fine." his eyes lit up a bit. "on one condition."

"mm?"

"no touching. only looking."

he nodded.

"sounds fair to me."

you could not believe you were fully exposing yourself to him right now, your vagina just out. your upper body was propped up on your pillows, your knees bent and thighs spread with his eyes glued to you.

"and no judging my lack of shaving."

he shrugged. "doesn't bother me."

he was looking at you like it was a book and he was reading every word.

"this is kinda weird, right?" you asked, trying to break the tension. and trying to distract him from the fact that his gaze was causing you to grow wetter and wetter with every second.

"a little bit, yeah."

"so... my vagina is the first one you've ever seen."

"yep. looks pretty similar to the drawing."

a few seconds of heavy silence went by.

"i mean... it's hard to learn when you're not... hands-on." you mentally slapped yourself for how cringey that sounded.

he froze, looking up into your eyes.

"what?"

"yeah, i mean... how are you supposed to learn what the clitoris is if you don't get to see what it does?"

"oh. i don't- i don't know."

"exactly."

"but you said no touching."

"i know what i said. maybe sometimes it's good to... break rules."

he slowly crawled closer to you and you spread your thighs wider. the cold air against your wetness could've given you chills.

"what... what do i do?" he asked, his face only a couple of inches away.

"see if you can find the words on your paper."

he looked over at it. "labia."

he lightly poked your wet lips — not the ones on your face.

"good."

"was that it?"

"mhm. good job."

"clitoris," he said without looking back at the paper.

"you remembered that one."

he looked around for a second before, without warning, placing the pad of his pointer finger onto your clit, making you take in a deep breath.

"that?"

"yep. right again."

"what do you... do with it?"

it was uncomfortable to explain, especially with a face in your vagina and a finger on your clit.

"uh... lots of things. really it's just different ways of touching it and touching it with different things. so, you could go in circles, back and forth, up and down. you can also use your tongue or some kind of toy. it's another thing that just depends on the person, everyone likes different things."

"what do you like?"

"circles, usually."

with a second of hesitation, he began slowly moving that finger in circles. you let out a breathy moan and closed your eyes, but he stopped.

"was that okay?"

you opened your eyes and looked down at him.

"that was good."

"so... what happens? is there like... an end goal here?"

"orgasm. it's how most women have to get there. sex, like penetration, usually isn't enough to get a lot of us there."

"really?"

"yeah. that's why it's important for our partners to do something other than just regular sex."

"so... do you usually prefer fingers or... a tongue?"

"well... me personally, i usually prefer a tongue. i feel like it's just more intimate."

"and what do you do with the tongue?"

"same thing you would with fingers. circles, back and forth, up and down-"

you were interrupted by a warm tongue on your clit, unable to hold in a gasp. he was going in circles like you said to do, and it was like he knew what to do immediately.

it felt good. you looked down at him to see him returning the gaze, a smirk creeping across his face.

"good, just like that, stiles."

you were doing your darndest to keep your hips still, ensuring he did everything right his first time. he placed his hands atop your thighs, making sure they stayed spread.

you reached up and pushed your hair out of your face, fisting a ball of your own hair. you were moaning, which he wasn't expecting to hear the first time he did this.

"you're doing good, stiles. that feels good."

he didn't answer, but his ego grew a few sizes at that. the closer you got to your orgasm, the more he had to hold you still. his arms were now wrapped around your thighs, his hands flat against your belly.

"fuck, okay, i can feel it coming," you said, looking down at him. "keep going, i'm gonna cum."

when you did look at him, it looked like he was experienced in this. his positioning, his hands, his pace, everything screamed 'i've done this a thousand times before'.

he liked this. being able to make you melt with just his tongue was making him hard, but he couldn't help it. your sweet voice moaning his name was like music to his ears, and the closer you got the louder you became.

your fingers tangled in his hair, trying not to pull too hard.

"don't stop, stiles. i'm almost there. i'll tell you when to stop."

he obeyed, not changing a single thing he was doing. if it hadn't have been so obvious, he might not have known you were cumming.

your back arched sharply, you took in a loud gasp, and your legs were trembling.

this was an incredible orgasm. you were perplexed by his skill, as ten minutes ago he had never even laid eyes on a vagina, much less eaten one out. but he was a quick learner, as you'd figured out from all the werewolf stuff.

"alright, stop, stop," you choked out. he immediately pulled away, using his shirt to wipe his mouth. you closed your legs and reveled in your high. your hand covered your eyes and you struggled to catch your breath.

"was that okay?" he asked innocently.

"are you kidding?" a moment later, you propped yourself up on your elbows. "how did you know how to do that?"

he shrugged. "i just did what you described."

"i've had more than one guy go down on me who was experienced and couldn't make me cum at all. that was, what, two minutes?"

"i guess i'm a natural," he joked.

you tilted your head to the side. "c'mere." you spread your legs again and his eyes widened, slowly following your directions. he held himself above you and you pulled him down to kiss you.

your hand trailed down his chest and landed on his belt, the clanking of the buckle making him pull away.

"what're you doing?" he whispered, looking at your half-closed eyes.

"well... i can see you're rock hard. i just figured, if you're losing your oral virginity, you might as well lose the regular one too."

he gulped hard, not moving.

"oh."

you stopped messing with his belt, furrowing your brow.

"unless you don't want to. you don't have to. don't feel like i'm pressuring you."

he shook his head.

"i don't. it's just... i didn't expect this. i wasn't planning on doing that when i came over, and i definitely didn't expect this. i didn't bring a condom or anything."

"i have some." you reached down and cupped his bulge in your hand, which made him falter a bit. "they might be a bit snug, but they'll fit."

he nodded, and you continued unbuckling his belt. when you got his pants shimmied down a bit and he was exposed to you, you noticed how red his cheeks were.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing. just... i don't want to disappoint you."

"stiles, it's your first time. i'm not expecting you to last past the first thrust." you can tell he took that as an insult. "i didn't mean it like that. no guy lasts past the first thrust during their first time. vaginas are different than hands or socks. i want you to feel comfortable with this. i promise i'm not judging you."

he nodded. "okay."

"if you don't want to have sex yet i could always just blow you instead. you might last longer that way."

"no, i want to do this."

"okay."

you reached over and grabbed a condom out of your nightstand drawer and opened it for him.

"want me to put it on for you?" you asked, to which you received a nod.

the feeling of your hand stroking down on him could've made him cum right then and there. but he wanted to wait until he was at least inside of you.

the feeling of his tip pressing into you was magical for both of you, and once he was fully nestled into you, he pressed a deep kiss onto your mouth.

he didn't move for a moment, wanting this to last as long as possible.

he was a nice size, not small by any means but not the biggest you'd had. he was perfect.

"you okay?" you whispered, pushing his hair off his forehead.

he nodded, the redness in his cheeks spreading to his chest. he slowly pulled out, and let out a loud, shaky moan with the next thrust. him laying his forehead against your chest let you know that he had cum, his arms trembling a bit.

when he looked at you again, he chuckled.

"what?" you asked.

"lasted past the first thrust." you both laughed at that, and you kissed him again. "next time it'll be better."

"next time?" he nodded. "when will that be?"

he thought for a second. "give me a couple of hours."

[dakusan]

HOW SKZ ACT WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD

stray kids ot8 x reader | eight boys, one mission: defeat your uterus with snacks and affection

🌙 synopsis: In this emotionally feral docuseries of domestic chaos, witness eight men spiral between panic, pouty affection, and god-tier cuddling skills as they try to soothe your demon womb. Hormones? Fluctuating. Pain? Off the charts. Love? Disgustingly abundant. Because when you're bleeding, these boys are bleeding emotionally.

💌 a/n: hello bleeding babes 💋. this was written under the influence of one (1) rage cramp, two (2) emotional support chocolates, and the ghost of every ex who didn’t bring me a heating pad. every skz boy is ✨feral✨ in love here because you deserve nothing less than devotion when your insides are trying to kill you. take this as a reminder: you don’t have to be cute while suffering. you can be bloated, bitter, in socks that don’t match and still be the main character of someone’s romantic fever dream. p.s. reblogs = strawberry chocolate covered kisses p.p.s. take a nap. eat something. drink water. i will literally cry if you don’t

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the divider

🎧 » Dimple — BTS « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:16 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Bang Chan // 방찬 domestic softness | clingy cuddles | emergency snack mission | intuitive caretaker

It starts around 2AM, when your cramps get so bad they actually wake you up.

You curl up tighter, hoping they’ll pass, but the wave hits harder this time—twisting, aching, blooming low in your stomach like something cruel. You let out a small whimper before you can stop it.

A pause. Then: Chan stirs beside you.

"Hey," his voice raspy, half-asleep, already worried. "Was that you?"

You nod into the pillow. “Mmhm. Cramps.”

He’s fully awake in seconds. No panic, no noise—just that quiet, laser-focused way he moves when it’s something important. You barely get a breath in before he’s rolling over, warm hand already on your waist.

“Babe,” he murmurs, soft and serious, “where’s your heating pad?”

You blink at him. “Living room. Under the couch. I think.”

“Okay. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He slips out of bed shirtless, in his boxers, feet padding across the cold floor like a man on a mission. You hear him fumbling in the dark, then the microwave, then some mild swearing when he stubs his toe on the table, and then—

He’s back. Holding a warm rice sock. And a small pack of chocolate-covered almonds. And a bottle of water.

You blink up at him, dazed. “...You brought snacks?”

Chan gives you the softest little smile, one hand brushing your hair off your face. “You always crave something sweet when it starts. I remember.”

He gently tucks the heating pad against your lower belly, adjusting it until you sigh in relief. He doesn’t crawl back under the covers right away—just watches your face with that puppy-eyed tenderness he saves for rare, quiet moments. Then—

“Can I hold you?”

You nod, and he pulls you into him slowly, like he’s scared to hurt you. One arm around your waist, the other beneath your neck, anchoring you against his chest.

You can feel his heartbeat.

He kisses your hair. “I hate that you’re in pain.”

“You’re making it better.”

“Good,” he whispers, breath warm against your ear. “That’s my whole job, you know.”

You smile tiredly into his chest. “I thought your job was being the leader of Stray Kids.”

Chan chuckles. “Nah. That’s just a side hustle. My real job is being yours.”

You groan and smack his chest, but it’s lazy, affectionate. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. And then, quietly: “If it gets worse, or you need anything else—wake me up. Even if it’s just to cuddle, yeah?”

You hum sleepily. “You’re already doing perfect, Chris.”

Lee Know // 리노 soft grump mode activated | petty grocery store rampage | cat therapy squad | the quietest, most extra caregiver alive

You try to hide it at first. It’s not a big deal. Just some cramps. You’ve had worse. So when Minho walks in and sees you curled up on the couch, a pillow hugged to your stomach, blanket barely covering your legs, expression just slightly off—he narrows his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

You wave him off. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

Minho stares for another solid beat. Then, in the driest, most unimpressed tone imaginable: “Lie again and I’m feeding your emergency strawberry Pocky stash to Soonie.”

You squint. “...I’m on my period.”

A pause.

“Did you take meds yet?” “No.” “Heating pad?” “No.” “Water?” “...No.” Minho exhales. “Jesus Christ, babe.”

You blink at him, kind of amused. “Why do you look personally offended?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend, not a background actor. You’re not supposed to suffer in silence when I exist.” Before you can respond, he turns on his heel and disappears into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, he’s back—with a full survival kit.

– Painkillers – A hot water bottle – Three kinds of snacks – Tea – A protein bar – A suspiciously aggressive amount of napkins

You stare at the spread. “Why do you look mad?”

“I’m not mad.” He sets everything down like he’s preparing a shrine. “I’m annoyed that you thought I wouldn’t want to do this for you.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Then: “…You’re so dramatic.”

“Correct,” he says, plopping down beside you. “But I’m also right. Now drink your tea.”

He doesn’t offer cuddles—not immediately. Minho’s love language is closeness, but it’s always on your terms. He lets you shuffle over to him first, curl into his side, blanket dragged over both of you.

A few minutes later, Dori hops up and makes himself at home on your lap. Then Doongie curls by your feet. Then Soonie pads over with the slow, quiet grace of a prince and lays directly on your stomach.

“…Ow,” you mutter.

Minho shrugs. “Cat therapy. He’s trying.”

You glance up. “You trained them to do this, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer (That’s a yes.). Eventually, when your eyelids start fluttering, he shifts beneath you, tucking your head against his shoulder, his voice low: “You get a pass today. From everything. I’ll handle food and chores. You just rest, okay?”

“Mmh.”

He kisses your temple. Doesn’t say I love you, but—“Try not to bleed on the couch. It was expensive.”

You snort. He grins.

Changbin // 창빈 gym bro but make it nurturing | snack-stocking menace | constant verbal reassurance | bear hug therapy

You don’t even say anything. Just shuffle into the kitchen with a pout and that one specific oversized hoodie you always wear when you’re crampy. Changbin looks up from where he’s meal-prepping chicken breast and protein muffins.

“…Oh no,” he says, immediately dropping the spatula like it offended him. “Is it…?”

You nod solemnly.

He gasps softly like it’s tragic news. “Not the cursed week…”

You give him a weak grin. “Yeah. It’s started.”

“Oh baby…” He sweeps across the kitchen in three steps and engulfs you in a warm, solid hug that smells like soap and cinnamon protein powder. He sways you gently side to side. “My poor little womb warrior.”

You muffle a laugh into his chest. “Did you just call me a womb warrior?”

“Yes. Because you’re strong. And scary. And currently bleeding from the inside.”

He lets go just long enough to grab your hand and lead you to the couch. “Sit. No, wait. Lay down. Actually, gimme a second—let me make you the Nest.”

The Nest, as he calls it, is a masterpiece of plush blankets, body pillows, and one of his giant hoodies stuffed like a plushie. You flop down into it like a marshmallow landing in hot cocoa.

He comes back in five minutes with: – A hot water bottle in a cute cover – Your comfort drink (the overpriced iced juice he always says is a scam but secretly buys for you anyway) – A bowl of hot rice with kimchi and a fried egg – A pack of sour gummies – His hand on your forehead like he’s checking for a fever

“You good?” he asks, brows furrowed in that classic Changbin worried but trying to stay cool way.

You nod. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Damn right I am. You’re my girl, and my girl doesn’t suffer alone.” Then, serious voice: “Tell me the pain scale. 1 to ‘rip my uterus out.’”

“Uhh... seven.”

He kisses your temple. “We’re going to war.”

You laugh, and he smirks like it was his life mission to make you do that.

Later, when you’re drowsy and curled into his side, he runs his fingers gently through your hair and whispers: “Next month, I’m buying you a little heating pad you can wear. One of those fancy ones. You deserve a luxury uterus experience.”

You glance up, barely holding in your giggle. “That’s not how it works.”

“I don’t care,” he says, dramatically pressing a hand over your stomach. “We’ll rebrand menstruation into an elite spa process.”

You snort.

And just before you drift off, you hear him mutter: "You're still the prettiest person alive, by the way. Even when you’re grumpy. Especially when you're grumpy."

Hyunjin // 현진 sensitive prince mode | soft-reading-voice therapy | bath prep connoisseur | cries because you cried

You don’t say much that morning. Just shuffle around the apartment with a sluggish pace, wrapped in one of Hyunjin’s big sweaters and hugging a warm water bottle like it’s your emotional support pet. Hyunjin notices instantly. You haven’t even finished your first sigh before he’s halfway across the room, one hand gently brushing your cheek.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “First day… cramps.”

His face crumples like you told him you’d just been hit by a truck. “Oh no. Oh, angel—come here.”

You’re pulled into his arms in seconds. He tucks your head under his chin, rocking you slowly like he’s trying to lull the pain out of you. Then he kisses the top of your head and says with complete, poetic Hyunjin™ sincerity: “If I could trade places with your uterus right now, I would. I’d fight it. With a sword.”

You choke on a laugh. “That’s not how uteruses work.”

“Don’t care. I’d challenge it to a duel.”

You try to tell him you’ll be fine, but he’s already deep into period care prince mode. The next thirty minutes are a flurry of whispered comforts and gentle commands:

“Lay down, my love. I’ll get your fuzzy socks.” “You’re not allowed to move unless it’s to kiss me or pee.” “I made your favourite tea with honey and a cinnamon stick because you’re precious.” “Do you want me to read to you? Or just hold you?”

Eventually, you find yourself nestled between his thighs, back to his chest, as he reads aloud from your favourite book in that soft, lilting voice of his. His fingers stroke your arm as he reads, each word slow and sweet like honey dripping into your brain.

When he feels you tense from another wave of cramps, he stops reading immediately. “Hey—breathe. You want me to rub your tummy?”

You nod weakly. He shifts, placing a warm hand gently over your lower belly, thumb stroking small circles through the fabric of your hoodie.

Then he goes quiet.

You glance back at him. Hyunjin has tears in his eyes. “…Are you crying?”

“I’m just—” he sniffs, “—you looked like you were in pain. And I love you. And your uterus is being evil. And I feel useless.”

You burst out laughing. It hurts, but you can’t help it. You twist around to cup his face, pressing a kiss to his damp cheek. “You’re not useless. You’re literally being perfect.”

He smiles through it, sheepish and pink and glowing.

Later that night, he draws you a warm bath, lights candles (unscented, because strong smells make your nausea worse), and plays your favourite soft playlist. He even ties his hair up in a bun to match yours. You sit between his legs, soaking and sighing.

“You’re everything,” you murmur.

Hyunjin kisses your shoulder. “No. You are. I’m just your backup dancer.”

Han // 한 snack gremlin turned snack provider | panic researcher | dramatic empathy overload | “i gotchu baby” energy

You shoot him a warning text before he comes over.

"just a heads up: cramps. mood: possessed."

Jisung shows up thirty minutes later with:

a bag of snacks too big to be legal,

a heating pad still in the box (he bought a new one just in case),

your favourite hoodie,

and the most anxious but determined look on his face.

“Babe. I Googled things. I am ready.”

You’re half-laying, half-flopped on the couch, blanket over your head like a sad ghost. You peek out. “Google, huh?”

He nods furiously, plopping down next to you with his phone. “Listen. Did you know dark chocolate, bananas, and omega-3s can help? Also—massage, but not too hard or your uterus gets pissed.”

You blink at him. “How long were you researching?”

“Since your text. And also last month. I made a doc.”

“…You made a period doc?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You snort, already feeling better, but your stomach twists again and you wince. Jisung’s face falls like you just told him his puppy died. “Oh no no no. Come here.” He gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping you in the hoodie like a burrito. “C’mere, my angry little cinnamon bun. You wanna scream into my chest? I can take it.”

You do, in fact, scream into his chest. It helps.

He rubs slow circles into your lower back with one hand, the other holding a juice box to your mouth like a doting nursemaid. Occasionally he whispers things like:

“You’re so strong.” “I would absolutely fight your uterus in a 7/11 snack isle.” “I bet if we played sad songs, your cramps would get scared and leave.”

You’re half-laughing, half-dying, and he’s leaning into both roles like a professional clown slash life coach. Then, when you least expect it, he looks down at you—all softness and sincerity: “I know I can’t feel what you’re feeling, but… I hate seeing you hurt. I’d switch with you if I could.”

You melt. Fully. Into him. And he holds you like you’re made of glass and gold at the same time. Eventually, you fall asleep in his arms while he plays soft lo-fi beats from his phone and feeds you Pocky like a spoiled hamster.

And from the way he holds you all night, you just know—next month, he’s showing up again with a full annotated PDF and a playlist called “Period Pains Ain’t Shit (ft. me and snacks).”

Felix // 필릭스 literal cupcake with a god complex | affirmation factory | creates a healing shrine out of your bed | draws you a glitter bath

Felix notices before you even say a word. You shuffle out of the bedroom with a scrunched-up face and a bloated waddle, and he pauses mid-toast, blinking in slow realization.

“…it’s that time, isn’t it?”

You nod dramatically and collapse into the kitchen chair like a fallen soldier. “She has risen from the depths. My uterus is currently staging a revolution.”

Felix gasps like you’ve been personally attacked. “Not the inner apocalypse!!” he gasps, running to your side. “I knew I felt a disturbance in the force!” You start laughing and groaning at the same time while he holds your face like he’s cradling a wounded fairy. Then—

“Go lie down,” he says gently. “I’m turning our bedroom into a cloud.”

And he does. Twenty minutes later, you return to find:

— Your weighted blanket fluffed on top of fresh sheets — Two body pillows on either side like a pain-relief sandwich — A tray of tea, lemon water, and chocolate-covered strawberries — Mood lighting from the fairy lights he set to warm orange — And a soft playlist titled “you deserve the world (and also naps)”

You blink. “Felix what the hell—”

He beams. “Cloud.”

You stare. “You made me a healing shrine.”

“You deserve a healing shrine,” he says, dead serious, crawling onto the bed and patting his chest. “Now get in here. I’m gonna spoon the sadness out of you.”

You curl into him, head pressed to his cinnamon-sugar heartbeat.

But then you start to tear up and Felix notices immediately and pulls you closer, fingers stroking your back with a gentleness that makes your throat ache. "Hey hey hey, shhh—no tears, baby. You already bled enough today," he jokes softly, then immediately kisses your forehead like he’s apologizing to your soul.

Later, he insists on running you a bath—with lavender bubbles, flower petals (that he definitely plucked from your neighbour's garden), and gentle music. He even lights a tiny candle and sets it on the sink like it’s a spell. And when you emerge, cosy and flushed, he wraps you in a towel burrito and murmurs: “Next time, I'm writing a passive-aggressive letter to your ovaries.”

“…You know they don’t read fanmail, right?”

He smirks. “Then I’ll write hate mail.”

You fall asleep giggling, cradled in his arms, full of chocolate and comfort and sunshine-boy magic.

Seungmin // 승민 sarcasm-flavoured care | savage but intuitive | cuddles like a weighted puppy | makes you laugh until it hurts less

It’s early afternoon. You’ve said nothing all day except for a grumbled “ow” while dramatically faceplanting into the couch. Seungmin, across the room eating cereal like it’s a military mission, just raises one eyebrow.

“…Again?”

You groan into the cushions. “Yes. Tell your ancestors to take it up with my uterus.”

He shrugs. “You should unionize your organs. Demand better working conditions.”

You crack a weak smile, and that’s all he needs—he gets up, puts down the cereal, and returns with his usual "pain protocol" like it’s just another Tuesday.

He doesn’t announce anything. No big gestures. Just quietly hands you: – A heat patch from the cupboard – A bottle of water already uncapped – A protein bar you always forget you need – And your favourite oversized hoodie that he always pretends not to like when you steal it

He says nothing. Just watches until you take it.

“…Thanks, Minnie.”

He finally sighs, dramatically plopping down next to you. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t serve and protect you from your own reproductive system?”

You pause. “A bad one.”

“Exactly.”

You shift closer. He adjusts the blanket over your shoulders with one hand and opens his phone with the other. A few seconds later, he’s playing one of your comfort shows—he remembered which episode you stopped on.

And then?

He lets you rest your head on his thigh while he lazily pets your hair like a spoiled cat. Occasionally, he comments on the show like nothing’s wrong.

“Wow, imagine being this emotionally unstable. Couldn’t be me.”

“You cried at a ramen commercial last week,” you mutter.

“Shh. You’re the one with pain hormones. I win.”

But then—quietly—he leans down and says: “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything. I don’t care. I’ll go to the store and buy you twelve types of pads and an emotional support donut if that’s what it takes.”

You look up at him, touched. “You’re actually sweet sometimes.”

He scoffs. “No I’m not.”

You smirk. “You are.”

“Lies.”

But later, when you wake up from a nap in his lap, you find your phone sitting next to you with a new lockscreen: A doodle of your uterus getting karate-kicked by a stick figure with puppy ears labelled “me.”

I.n // 아이엔 panicked rookie boyfriend vibes | clumsy cuddle pro | “i googled it” energy | buys everything he sees in the pharmacy aisle

It’s only been a few months since you started dating, so when your period hits full force mid-date night—Jeongin panics. You’re curled up in bed, hands on your stomach, face tight with pain. He’s sitting next to you looking so painfully concerned it’s almost cute.

“Are you dying? Is this a dying thing? Should I call someone?”

You squint up at him. “It’s just cramps, Innie.”

“…Are you sure?” he whispers, already holding his phone with the Emergency icon half-tapped.

You grab his sleeve and tug him down into a hug. “I’m sure.”

He melts immediately. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”

Then: cue Jeongin’s Period Preparedness Panic Arc™. He disappears for forty-five minutes. You think he went to buy a snack or something.

No.

He returns with: – 3 different heating pads (“I didn’t know which one to get so I bought all of them.”) – A literal mountain of snacks (chocolate, gummies, ice cream, crackers, a random matcha cookie that looked ‘healing’) – A floral-scented candle that he regrets instantly (“It’s kinda… strong. We can throw it away.”) – And the softest stuffed alpaca you've ever seen (“She’s for emotional support. Her name is Princess Womb Slayer.”)

You blink. “Jeongin—”

“I panicked, okay?! You were hurting and I didn’t know what to do and the pharmacy lady told me ginger helps so I bought ginger tea and also ginger candy and gingerbread even though I hate gingerbread—”

You laugh. Hard. Which makes your stomach cramp more. You curl into a little ball again and he instantly shuts up, looking terrified.

“I—did I make it worse? Should I go back and get—”

“Innie,” you wheeze. “Come here.”

He carefully crawls into bed, cuddling you gently, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. Then, after a beat: “…You wanna watch penguin videos?”

You blink. “Penguins?”

“They’re cute. They waddle. You always say that makes you feel better.”

You grin and nod, and two minutes later, he’s got a compilation playing of baby penguins slipping on ice while you snuggle into his chest.

[foxxypaws]

Agere journal prompts ⭐

(contains links to more prompts / ideas at the end ^^) (divider credits)

First of all... what's an agere journal?

Great question! it's a few things really (or whatever you want it to be)

It can be a journal you can use when you regress, just so you can draw and do fun activities! mostly for artistic littles who like to make and draw :3 Or it can be a journal full of information on regression, specify your regression. listing stuff like what you do when little, your favoruite things, your boundaries. these are usually made for littles to give to their caregivers. or it can be both!

prompts!

🖍 an introduction / all about me page 🖍 Pictures (drawn or not) of your favourite plushies and friends ^ 🖍 Character profiles for stuffies 🖍 finger painting 🖍 plan out events like picnics and playdates 🖍 Design and draw your dream little room 🖍 gear wishlist 🖍 print out some task sheets (and/or design your own) 🖍 Headcanons of your fictional littles/caregivers 🖍 positive message 🖍 doodles 🖍 list your favourite activities! 🖍 a collage 🖍 What makes you feel the happiest / safest 🖍 Your favourite movies and TV shows 🖍 Big you vs. little you (chart, drawing, list, etc) 🖍 Draw yourself as an animal! 🖍 signs that you are regressed 🖍 Write down any chores for the day as a to-do list or sticker check-off list 🖍 Design a small outfit 🖍 Make a playlist for when little 🖍 A pretend menu for when playing restaurants ^ 🖍 Anything you might need for pretend play (doctor notes, grocery list, tressure maps) 🖍 regression triggers 🖍 draw yourself as a superhero! 🖍 plan your ideal trip 🖍 Family photos of you and your plushies 🖍 make a page dedicated to a colour (any colour) and describe how it makes you feel (for example i like yellow because it reminds me of sunflowers) (another (and better) example) 🖍 A page dedicated to your favourite characters 🖍 share a funny memory that makes you laugh 🖍 make a word search when big (or even get your caregiver/friend to do it!), and then when you find it when little you can do it!

links!

fun scenarios (this post also contains links!), things to doodle, designing your dream regression room, pokemon related prompts, 50 things to put into your agere journal, 75 agere journal prompts.

[m-robinavitch]

hii could we maybe see 29 from the trope tuesday list w robby?

Trope Tuesday! Send an ask with a trope from this list with a character and I’ll make a shitty blurb for you!

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Reader

Trope: Virgin!Reader with Experienced Partner

Warning: 18+ MDNI, smut, talk of virginity/losing virginity, Robby big-

You had prepped for weeks at this point. You and Robby. A team of professionals- trying to get you prepped for being spilt open on his cock.

You weren’t a virgin for lack of trying- honestly. You just- you were studious. You spent high school buried in books and that got you to valedictorian. You spent college doing the same and got on the dean’s list. Med school was the same- you had a track to follow and it got you exactly where you wanted to be. But- you missed out on dating. You missed out on fun with friends in your twenties. But luckily the entire ER was full of people with the same problems. Overachievers with ADHD who try to make up for it but now that they got to where they are- there’s no time for it. You work 10-12 hour shifts, you’re exhausted and burnt out and the only reason you have a certain attending in your bed is because of proximity and well- he thinks you’re cute.

You caught Robby’s eye that first week- spending quiet moments in the Pitt watching him chart and asking him questions about cases you wanted to follow up on. The way he’d guide your hand while you places a chest tube to stitched a patient up. How he’d press into your back a little when he comes over to inspect your work or read a patients labs over your shoulder. Eventually it ended with him asking you to dinner after work one day. Then he held your hand and kissed you breathless after walking you to your door. Then after a few weeks of dating and kissing you found yourself underneath him on his couch- gasping from how cold his hands were when they slipped under your shirt. Until they trailed down to your jeans and-

“Robby wait- I- I’m,” he lifted his head up from your neck- worried that you didn’t like it or- “I’ve never- um, I haven’t- I’m a virgin.” He didn’t laugh like the one asshole did in med school. He didn’t get up and leave or continue on like it didn’t matter. He nodded, sat back and apologized and asked if you wanted to continue or if you wanted to slow down. “Slow down- please.” So he did. He asked what you were comfortable with. He asked what you wanted to try. But that night while you laid in bed together after hours of kissing-

“I’m not small,” he started, continuing to stare up at the ceiling while you laid on his chest- mindlessly stroking the hair that covered his pecs. You knew this- the man is 6’2 and- “even for someone who is experienced- it’s going to take some practice.” Oh. Oh. Well- if anything you’ve always been up for a challenge.

So the first few times after that- Robby got you used to someone else’s touch. He started with watching how you made yourself cum- sat between your legs and studied how your hands dragged along your clit or a finger dipped inside your entrance. Then he used his tongue while you played with yourself- dragging it along your slit, circling your clit while you dipped a finger in or slowly working you open with it while you rubbed along the bundle of nerves. Then he used his own hand, sat behind you with his large thighs and long legs framing your own- one of his large heavy hands cup and palm at your breast while he slowly uses his fingers to collect the wetness of your pussy and drag it up along your clit. One finger. Only a single finger because you tensed a bit and know how big his hands are- let alone his fingers.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned in your ear, looking down over where he’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to get a good view of your needy unfucked cunt while his fingers worked. After a week you’ve built up to two fingers- a stretch, but it felt so fucking good. “So pretty for me sweetheart- need to stretch you out nice and good for my cock okay?” You didn’t hear him. You didn’t listen to anything other than how Robby’s fingers pumped in and out of you- the heavy wet sound filling your bedroom with obscenity.

It took another week to work up a third finger inside. Robby had you spread open by his wide shoulders- three fingers deep and working fast inside you while he licked and suck on your clit like it was his last meal. And after more than a month- you’re here. In Robby’s bed- tugging at his boxers because you’ve yet to see what he’s working with. He didn’t want to scare you- which you laughed at because “come on Robby- it can’t be that big” You laughed- scoffed at him. Then you gasped, you gulped. You pulled back for a moment in fear. Oh.

It’s not the initial stretch that wears you down- no Robby made sure you were nice and prepped and had extra lube for you even. It was the fact that it kept. fucking. going.

“You’re doing so good for me angel, so fucking good baby- almost halfway now-“ what-

“What?! Halfway? Fuck me- Robby I fucking hate you-“ you whined against his lips while he laughed a little. Poor baby. You wanted this.

[helleboretea]

Some observations on the scenes between Dr Langdon, Mel, and Terrence, the autistic patient with an ankle sprain, from an autistic person:

I’ve seen a few people comment of these scenes as the (or a) reason the dislike Langdon as a character, some with the sentiment that this makes him a bad person. I have a very different take. I personally love this storyline, I love the way it’s done. I think they wrote it just this way to illustrate a very important part about the healthcare system (and I’m talking pretty much globally here, cos it’s not just the US), which is that Dr Langdon is missing a vital part of his education. Almost all doctors are. They aren’t being taught about autism or neurodiversity or disability nearly enough, and certainly not how to properly accomodate patients who are autistic. 

I think Dr Langdon comes into the interaction with Terence the way he would any other patient, friendly, upbeat, asking whether he’d prefer Terry or Terrence, and for a neurotypical patient that would probably be a really great interaction. He’s doing the right thing - just not for this patient. And autism aside (omg I never thought I’d say that but gimme a sec), I can understand for healthcare workers how irritating it must be having patients constantly googling their symptoms and trusting what they read on the internet. We’re all for self advocacy, but WebMD can send you down needless spirals and I’ve been there so many times and literally have never had that super rare condition that I convinced myself I’m dying of at 2am. 

So it’s not surprising he get’s irritated, but, again, I’d say he handles it kinda well, in that he at least just leaves the situation and doesn’t snap at the patient or give him some long, shaming lecture. He lets Mel take him. 

Which is where we get to the bit that makes me so emotional. Mel looks at the patient’s chart and points out he’s autistic (identity first thank you!), and it so doesn’t surprise me at all when Langdon says “sprained ankle it’s not related”, because that’s literally what he’s been taught. That’s what all doctors are fucking taught. They’re kinda maybe taught what autism is (the bare bones and probably a lot of it is still outdated), but not how to talk to an autistic person, or what they might need, or even that they will just meet autistic people, no matter what department they work in. 

So it’s not necessarily that he’s ableist, it’s that he literally just doesn’t know. He makes his little comment about treating three other patients while Mel treats Terrence, because he thinks he’s just a “Dr Google”, and moves on. Because the ER is packed and they need to treat patients and ship them off.

(I’m rewatching the scene and Mel legit makes me cry here.) Mel’s interacts with Terrence when she comes in are near perfect. She closes the door and turns down the lights because he’s probably been there for hours and even if those weren’t that overwhelming at first they would be super overstimulating by then. Then she asks him his main concerns, and she listens and takes him seriously when he tells her. I’ve had a grand total of one doctor do this, and it was the safest I’ve ever felt in a medical situation. 

But then Langdon comes back. I’m not gonna lie, when Mel was talking to Terrence, and had made all those little (but impactful) accommodations, then Langdon opened the door again, I had this wave of worry through my body the first time I watched it. I thought it was going to go so differently. I thought he was opening the door and standing there because he didn’t want Mel making accommodations, that it was his way of asserting power and saying we do it my way. And I think you can tell that Mel and Terrence worried about that too. 

Nope. He came to watch. He came to observe his new trainee interact with this patient, because he was curious. He didn’t need to be there. Medicine wise, Mel would totally have it handled. 

Side note - When he asked about the pain level out of ten Terrences reply was so me! I’ve thought that every time someone talks about pain out of 10! How is anyone meant to make that assessment??

At this point you can see him realise he’s in over his head. Mel is clearly so much better equiped to talk to Terrence and make him feel safe and comfortable enough to receive care. But he just watches, in awe. Because to him there’s just difficult patients, who fight you, and make treating them harder, and non-difficult patients. But here he’s learning that there’s a way to interact with this man that isn’t difficult, that makes him feel safe, and allows treatment to be provided. And he wants to be able to do that. That’s why he asks Mel “how did you do that?” Because he wants to be better. He wants to be able to speak to other patients in that way. He clearly wants to be the best doctor, and most of that is in the procedures he does, but he knows that a lot of it will come from how he interacts with his patients too. He chooses in this moment to learn from Terrence and Mel.

Then, when he sees Terrence later to discharge him, he apologises for them getting off on the wrong foot. He doesn’t need to, but he does - because he recognises that he came at the situation wrong. And he wishes him good luck with the table tennis tournament (I’m not sure if it’s implied that Mel told him about this or that Terrence told him off screen, because he wasn’t in the room when he told Mel, and Terrence seems surprised that he mentioned it) and says "okay" with a smile when Terrence offers to teach him how to play. What starts off as a really negative interaction ends so positively. Because of Mel, and because Langdon was eager to learn. That’s why he tells her “you’re great with your patients, you even taught me a couple of things.”

That’s why this is such a fucking excellent scene/episode/series, because the issue isn’t just “oh doctors are ableist” (even though yeah, lots are), it isn’t that black and white. The issue is that there isn’t enough education. People in healthcare aren’t being taught enough about autism and the different kinds of people they’re going to come across (see sickle-cell patient, unhoused patients, victims of abuse, etc.) even if they want to be. That’s why doctors like Mel matter so so so much. That’s also why even though it would be amazing if they confirm she’s autistic, it wouldn’t be unrealistic if she’s undiagnosed. That’s why doctor Langdon says to her that sensitive people are needed there badly. Because she makes those around her better, if they just care to watch and learn.

[nekonaps0]

helloo!! I just finished reading your toxic beauty fic and omgg I LOVEEE YOUR WRITING!! can i please request that with the first years?😓🙏🙏

take your time tho!!🩷🩷

Toxic beauty pt2

✦part1

✦gn!reader

✦characters: first years (platonic Ortho)

✦Read found a toxic beauty magazine and start to follow a unhealthy diet

Ace Trappola

At first, Ace didn’t notice it. You’d always had little quirks with food. But then your lunch started looking more like air than actual nutrition. You stopped accepting snacks from him…you, the one who used to steal bites from his plate.

The final straw came when he found you in the mirror, turning sideways and frowning.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, awkwardly hiding the magazine on your desk. “Nothing. Just… trying to look better.”

He snatched the magazine faster than you could blink. “The hell is this?”

There were headlines like “Drop 15 Pounds in a Week” and “Real Beauty is Discipline.”

Ace’s jaw clenched. “You’re seriously listening to this crap?”

You tried to brush it off, but he wasn’t having it.

“Hey. I’m not joking. You don’t need to change a damn thing to look good. You’re already hot, okay?”

You blinked.

“I mean… it’s you. You are already perfect! Why would you try to change something that already more than good enough?”

You teared up. Ace went red immediately but pulled you into a hug.

“Don’t ever let a magazine make you forget how awesome you are. Got it? You’re you. That’s the whole reason I fell for you.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce started noticing when you kept declining meals, saying you “already ate” or “weren’t hungry.”

He thought maybe it was just stress until he walked into your room and saw a magazine spread pinned to the wall, circles drawn around the models’ figures, calorie charts on your desk.

“What is this...?”

He flipped through it in growing horror, and when you walked in and froze, he looked at you with wide, hurt eyes.

“Are you doing this to yourself because of... this magazine?”

You tried to laugh it off, say it was just inspiration, but Deuce stepped forward, gripping your hands.

“No. This isn’t okay. You’re hurting yourself and I…I love you. Too much to let you starve yourself chasing an unhealthy and unrealistic thing.”

His voice cracked, eyes misty.

“You’ve always been perfect to me. Not just your body, but you. Your laugh. The way you care about people. The way you look at me like I matter.”

He pulled you into a hug like he thought you might slip through his fingers.

“Please don’t let something like that change the way you see yourself. You’re beautiful. You’re enough.”

Jack Howl

Jack noticed immediately.

You started skipping meals. Pushing food around on your plate. Training excessively, even when you were clearly tired. He confronted you when he saw you pouring out a smoothie that was clearly just water and lemon juice.

“That’s not food. That’s punishment.”

You tried to change the subject. He didn’t let you.

“Is this about that magazine you were reading last week?”

You hesitated.

“I saw it. I saw what it said. About how you have to be unhealthy thin to be beautiful and attractive. That’s garbage.”

He stepped in front of you, gaze serious and voice low. “What you’re doing to yourself… it’s not healthy. And it’s not fair. Not to your body. Not to you.”

Jack gently took your hands. “You don’t need to shrink to be worthy. You already are. I care about you… not whatever a toxic magazine says.”

“I’ll help you eat better. But that means eating enough. And also I can make you a workout schedule if you want to. But only if you want to do it, not because a stupid magazine says you should.”

Epel Felmier

You and Epel had bonded over looks before. The pressure. The image. The constant expectation to be “a certain type.”

So when he caught you measuring your waist and mumbling about a model’s proportions, something inside him snapped.

“Don’t.”

You looked up, startled.

He snatched the magazine from your hands and crumpled it.

“Don’t let them tell you what pretty is. Those jerks don’t know anything. They want everyone to look the same.”

You were quiet, and that scared him more.

He stepped close, blue eyes fiery.

“You’re beautiful the way you are. I don’t care if the whole world thinks otherwise… I do. I see you.”

You teared up, and Epel softened.

“I know what it feels like... to want to change for other people. But you don’t have to, not for me, not for anyone!”

He took your face in his hands. “Let’s fight this crap together, alright?”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was furious.

Not at you, never at you. But when he found that trashy magazine in your bag and realized what it was telling you to do… he saw red.

“How dare they plant such poisonous ideas in your head!”

You flinched. He immediately softened, voice trembling.

“You are strong. Kind. Stunning. Why would you damage yourself for a standard they made up?”

You tried to explain… you just wanted to feel more… desirable.

“Desirable? You already are! I would guard you with my life! If you wanted change, I would walk beside you. But not like this. Not by starving your brilliance away!”

He grabbed the magazine and tore it in half. Then he reached for you, cupping your cheeks gently. “You are perfect as you are. You’re already… more than enough for me.”

Ortho Shroud

You thought you could hide it from him.

After all, Ortho didn’t eat. He didn’t worry about body image, beauty standards, or calories. What would he know?

But… Ortho notices everything.

It started with the way you stopped asking for snacks during study sessions. The subtle drop in your energy levels. The fake smile when your stomach growled. Then he found the fashion magazine tucked under your bed, filled with markings and “goal” body images, calorie logs scribbled in the margins.

“...What is this?” His voice wasn’t cold. It was quiet.

You turned to see him standing in your doorway, magazine in his hands. His glowing eyes flicked up to yours, concerned, confused, and something that looked like… sadness.

“I ran a health analysis on you last week. Your patterns have changed. Sleep, nutrition, hydration… I thought maybe it was stress.”

You tried to look away. You didn’t want him to see the tears threatening to surface. “I… I just wanted to be good enough.”

There was a small pause.

Then he walked over to you, taking your hand in both of his, gentle but firm. “You are good enough. More than good enough! You’re amazing, Y/N!”

His voice glitched with emotion. “You’re my best friend. The person who taught me how to joke and cry! You’re not a number on a scale or a size in a magazine. You’re you.”

Your tears spilled then and Ortho caught them carefully with a tissue he’d prepared in advance. (He always kept one on hand.) “Please don’t hurt yourself trying to become someone else’s version of perfect.”

You smiled through your tears and hugged him tightly.

He lit up in soft blue and gold light, holding you close with a quiet hum.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen. If you want help with healthier goals, I’ll build the tracker myself. But only if it makes you happy, not because someone said you’re not enough. Because to me? You’ve always been the best version of you.”

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