#crescent moon academy

[beezonia]

Been thinking about crescent moon dorm leaders, take this design for one of them

Twisted from the headless horseman

her name is Harriet and she likes to ride horses (no wayy!)

shy and skittish but oddly competitive during the night

haven’t really thought much about her just wanted to share I guess!

[age-of-moonknight]

Variant cover for Strange Academy: Moon Knight (Vol. 1/2023), #1 by Humberto Ramos and Edgar Delgado.

[kiki-smith21]

A Silent Understanding

Wednesday Addams x autistic fem reader

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and any feedback would be appreciated. Let me know if you want a part 2. (I am actually autistic, so this is mostly based off the symptoms I show, but if you have any typical symptoms of autism you wish for me to add to the story later let me know and I'll try my best. Please be respectful to all, and remember to drink water and look after yourself, cuties)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: In the comfort of the library, you and Wednesday share a moment of vulnerability and trust.

In the dimly lit, Gothic confines of Nevermore Academy, the atmosphere was as thick with mystery as ever. Wednesday Addams, with her signature braids and dark demeanour, was engrossed in her latest endeavor—a particularly challenging crossword puzzle.

You, a quiet student with an affinity for the arts and a mind that danced to a different rhythm, often found solace in the same library where Wednesday spent much of her time. You had always admired her from afar, drawn to her enigmatic presence and unique perspective on the world.

Today, the library was especially silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of pages. You found a seat at a nearby table, trying to focus on your sketchbook. It was in these rare, quiet moments that you felt most at peace, your thoughts flowing freely without the need for words.

As the hours ticked by, you noticed Wednesday glancing over her crossword with a hint of frustration. Summoning your courage, you approached her table, clutching a folded piece of paper in your hand.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you waited for her response, unsure if you had intruded on her solitary work.

Wednesday looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of curiosity. "And why would you offer assistance?" she asked, her tone a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

"I noticed you were having trouble with a few clues," you replied, hoping your voice conveyed the sincerity you felt. "I've always been good with puzzles."

A faint, inscrutable smile tugged at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. "Very well. Let's see if your skills are as impressive as you claim."

You settled into the seat beside her, your nerves calming as you began to work through the crossword clues together. The process was slow but rewarding, each shared glance and whispered suggestion deepening the connection between you.

As the final word fit perfectly into the grid, Wednesday's gaze lingered on you. "You did well," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you."

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the old heating system. In this serene bubble, you felt an unexpected urge to express something you had been holding back. You reached for the folded piece of paper you had brought, unfolding it to reveal a simple drawing of a crescent moon—an image that had always felt comforting to you.

Wednesday’s eyes softened as she studied the drawing, and for a moment, you both simply sat in silence. It was a moment of unspoken understanding.

Without quite knowing how it happened, your hand found its way to Wednesday’s, fingers brushing lightly against hers. The contact was gentle but electric, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, her expression inscrutable yet filled with something tender. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, yet warm kiss. It was a soft, fleeting moment that spoke volumes, a shared silence that encapsulated everything words could not.

When you finally pulled away, Wednesday’s eyes were still locked onto yours, a rare and genuine smile playing on her lips. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little corner of understanding.

As you both sat there, the unspoken connection between you felt more profound than any words could ever convey. It was a silent promise of something more, a shared moment of intimacy that marked the beginning of something beautiful.

[autumnalmoons]

Truth or deal (sfw)

this was hard to figure out kldjfjf perhaps i'll do a second part with explicit rating, but for now :D

Viktor x fem!Reader | 1.4K

Notes: Academic rivals to allies to lovers, Fake dating, Mutual pining, Allusions to spiciness but nothing descriptive, Pre-Arcane timeline.

If it’s an arrangement simple enough, then why it's getting so difficult to follow through?

Viktor looks toward you, feeling the faint touch of your arms around his neck. You’re dancing too close to his body; not that he minds.

Not that he’s going to tell you so, of course.

Viktor can’t say he fully trusts you—after all, your charms are the reason why he sought you out after the Student Knowledge Contest last year. He can’t help but gaze at your eyes and get lost in them sometimes, perhaps more than he’s willing to admit.

 You’re a brilliant student whose name has appeared in the first places of the grading rank since your enrollment to the Academy. Sometimes atop his, sometimes under.

This reminds him of what you two were doing last Friday night…

“Viktor?” you hum, snatching him out of his fantasies—his memories. “You’ve stopped dancing.”

His grasp on your waist relocates on your hips, feeling the supple skin underneath covered by the soft silk of your green dress, so familiar by now.

“I just saw Robert Yean passing by,” he says. One of your failed suitors, now that he’s here with you. It isn’t possessive behavior, Viktor repeats himself between mumbles against your hair.

“Very insistent man,” you mutter with a smile, sensing Robert’s gaze glued on your back as Viktor and you gently sway side to side with the music flowing around the ballroom.

“Luckily I am one, too,” Viktor says teasingly, his thumb brushing along the apple of your cheek before leaning toward your lips. He understands the nerve of the man wishing to whisk you away, with such a newly established family, a whole future ahead more than the dark, smoky sky in Zaun could ever offer you.

For the deal to work, Viktor had to convince you that trust could run both ways.

Sure, you were competing to be the top of the class, but contrary to the rest of Piltovans side-eying Viktor—silently reminding him of his place under all of them, back to Zaun—you have such soft, caring eyes. Curious, even, once he took a seat next to you at the table in the library.

“I talked with Mr. Xilas about your prototype to clean chemicals from the dam,” you say, taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, your eyes sweeping over Viktor’s features, to the pearls of sweat sticking to his forehead.

You offer him a sip, rotating the rim of the glass where you left a stain of your red lipstick.

“Thank you, moje sluníĉko.” He takes a sip, locking eyes with you as he places his lips in the mark of your lipstick over the rim’s glass.

Feeling you all flustered, you settle your hand atop his over the cane’s handle. “You should go and talk with him,” you add. “Sweet-talking him a little, hmm?”

Viktor sighs. “Unless it’s you, I don’t think I can do it that well.”

Your giggle makes him smile, loving the way your eyes crinkle in happy crescent moons, a warm feeling of pride extending inside his chest.

"Ow, my tooth hurts!" you say, fingers pressing your left cheek. "From so much cheesiness."

Viktor pokes at your sides, holding you close to feel the curves of your body against his when you try to wiggle out of his tickling grasp. "You little troublemaker, you scared me."

“You’re so silly.”

“You hurt me, my love.” He says, giving you back the glass of wine, brushing your fingers with his in a premeditated movement that makes your stance feel all wobbly. "But perhaps you could help me with the sweet talk, hmm? I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to call the merchant ‘my sunshine’, or ‘my love,’ don’t you think?”

“Hmm. No, unless you’d want me to be jealous?”

Viktor kisses your temple. “Perhaps later tonight. I might need some nibbles.”

Taking him by the hand, you two settle on the windowsill overseeing the balcony, with the breeze of the afternoon making contact with the bare skin of your back. Viktor’s right hand rubs gentle circles in there to soothe your shivering.

“You should’ve brought a sweater,” he muses.

You look at him, eyes pleading and mouth in a pout. “Aren’t you going to give me yours?”

He smirks. “No. I’m cold, too.”

"Such a meanie." Viktor laughs, opening his coat to envelope you within, almost against his chest. "Mmm, better—some nibbles, you say?” You smile, your lips brushing the edge of his collar, putting a red mark of your lipstick over the ivory dress shirt.

“Don’t,” he muses, pretending to be annoyed, yet his heartbeat jumps at smelling the sweet perfume of fruits and lilies. His hands shake slightly the stem of his wine’s cup. “Those stains are difficult to wash.”

“What can I say? You look handsome, Vikky,” you say, playing with the congratulatory badge reading 1st place Engineering Contest: 45 Edition. “I’m lucky for you to be my fake boyfriend.”

“You’re also breathtaking today." Though he doesn't repeat your phrase. He can't still decide if he tells you that.

At first, it’d been a clear enough arrangement—a fake boyfriend to keep you away from the annoying suitors, and for him, a charming socialite who could push his ideas around the wealthy Piltovan minds sponsoring the Academy. But the simplicity had worn out as month passed and Viktor wanted to invite you out to more dates.

To simply sit down outside the library to talk until the sun dipped in the horizon. And it didn’t help you let him get so close Viktor has memorized the features of your face so he could imagine it at night when you’re not in his bed.

Because it wasn’t part of the deal, you’re lovers only when the doors are open and the curtains withdrawn. And yet that faithful rainy day, you two stumbled over the threshold of his apartment soaking wet, the fine-crafted clothes of the academy uniform glued to your curves.

He couldn’t look away, and you didn’t mind it, either, settling your back against the cold entrance door as Viktor’s lips sought out yours, trying to impregnate himself with your taste.

"Perhaps we should return home today?" he says before he's even able to tell what just got out of his mind. Not that he could lie to you, only hide.

"Before Heimerdinger' speech about the Academy Anniversary?"

“I’d rather hear your voice.”

You laugh. “Vikky…”

“Everyone here thinks I’m whispering loving things to your ear,” Viktor says, nuzzling his nose against your neck when he sees one of the suitors sent by your mother watching you from afar. “Might as well sell the part.” So much, he’s starting to believe it.

“You do sell the part really well,” you mutter, liking how his now familiar hand always cradles the small curve in your back.

It's a straightforward deal, really. Even if you come from the Undercity, your parents had built quite a reputation behind them; not only a family rising from the abyss to the riches above by mere luck, no, this was a hard-work endeavor paired with an endless list of qualities you must master if wishing to have the family last name.

If it's so easy, why does Viktor dread the day when the deal will end?

Even when he wishes to hold you forever…

“Alright,” you say, looking at the sky turning orange. “Let’s go to your place, maybe? I like your mattress the best.”

Viktor chuckles. “It’s not like we’re going to have much sleep tonight, I assume.”

You poke his cheek, Viktor’s fingers wrapped along your wrist that he slowly drags toward his mouth, where he settles to brush his lips against the sensible skin there.

“You’re taking advantage of my inability to say no to you.” Your hands are by now yearning to cup his cheeks, reminiscent of how the amber in his eyes becomes burnt umber once your body is flush against his. He cradles you between his arms as if you were made of porcelain; as if you were a dream that would slip with the first light of the morning sun. "Shall we go?"

Viktor settles your hand on the crook of his elbow, the movement fluid and gentlemanly mastered by repetition.

"Hmm, we shall, my love," he says, giving you a seemingly innocent peck on the lips, though, at the end of the motion, Viktor decides to get a playful nibble on your lower lip. A promise of what is to come. "We shall."

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

Thank you again for continuing to read this experimental fic, I hope that you’re enjoying it. Last time we were making the approach to Castledale, and determining what they found when our duo got there. What they are greeted with is:

4. The Headmistress would like a word, immediately.

Who hurt you folks?

It was near evening when they got to the gates of Castledale, the towering citadel of knowledge imposing and grandiose, though the signs of decay were creeping in without magic holding them at bay. However, that detail would require closer observation to really tell, something our dear friends didn’t have the luxury to take.

“The Headmistress would like a word,” the guard stated after stopping them with a halberd blocking their path. As she took a look at the grim faced captain, Star felt a void of dread opening in the pit of her stomach. Especially when he answered her hesitation with, “Immediately.”

The feeling only got worse as she noticed all the guards barring any offshoot, and the page boys taking their horse, cart, and luggage. This could not be good.

“Perhaps I should explain a few things,” she offered to Luna as they were escorted to the Headmistress office, her eyes glancing around nervously. “First, I technically did have permission to go.”

“Where does the technicality cut in here?” Luna asked with a slightly bemused look, obviously going through many tropes in her mind as they walked along. “I would love to hear about it.”

Star laughed nervously as she poked her fingers together. “So I was supposed to actually leave with an escort, about two weeks from now?”

“I can see why that might cause trouble, but you’re back safe and sound. That will count to something, won’t it?”

Star could almost feel the steely gaze from the office through the stone and wood, the guilt gnawing away at her resolve with renewed fervor. It might be best to avoid pointing that out, as that would just bring up the debriefing, where she’d have to explain everything in greater depths. Swallowing her nerves, she cleared her throat.

“Yes, I suppose that might be true, however… the Headmistress is very strict, and demanding, and may have a vested interest in my well being, and education.”

“Why’s that?” Luna asked as the doors were opened before them, coming face to face with the woman in question, her stern scowl coming from behind her half-moon glasses. Her graying brown hair pulled up in a tight bun.

“Glad you could make it Star Crescent,” the woman stated coldly as she stood to her full height, imposing in the room, making it feel smaller and tighter. “Who is your companion?”

“Headmistress Aurora, this is the bard Luna, who accompanied me on my travels back from the tower I was researching,” Star introduced formally as she bowed before the woman. “Luna, allow me to introduce Headmistress Aurora Crescent… my aunt.”

[iliketangerines]

okay so imagine…

lord raiden’s daughter in a secret relationship with Mk11 Shang Tsung… and it only gets found out cuz she’s pregnant

secrets and the moon

a/n: old man shang tsung is also pretty good, definitely ooc bc we only know him in the context of power-hungry, but idk i want soft shang tsung

pairing: shang tsung x afab!reader

warnings: none :)

you sit on your balcony, staring into the crescent moon as you hum along to the tune of the crickets singing outside

you trace the edges of the wooden balcony, sighing as you watch the world pass by you in a blur

there’s no much to do about the academy, at least not anymore, not with having lived at the academy for centuries now

and not with the restrictions your dad puts on you

you still remember meeting him, your mother had kept you hidden away from the world and society, telling you that you would not be accepted

you never really understood why until you snuck out one night and traveled to the nearby village, where the kids threw rocks at you, calling your eyes ghostly

then your mother had fallen ill shortly after, and she brought you to a high mountain to meet your father, Lord Raiden, who had the same ghostly eyes that you did

he wasn’t sure what to do with you, but he saw the state of your mother and the fearful expression on your face as your mother hacked up blood and took you both in

he made sure your mother was treated like a goddess, with food, silken sheets, maids on hand and foot until she passed away shortly after

your father did try his best to raise you, but his experience with rearing the existence of humanity didn’t compare with trying to deal with an unruly teenager whose rebellious stage lasted for a few decades

you already explored every nook and cranny of this palace and trained in every martial arts your father could think to train you in

and yet, every so often, you would cough up blood and your father would sequester you to your room, shielding you from the cruelty of the world

you had inherited whatever illness your mother had, but your godly status allowed you to survive through the pain but didn’t dampen any of it

it was an unfortunate situation

you sigh and sit up on the edge of the railing, swinging your legs over the open air as you wait for your paramour to show up

you knew it wasn’t a good idea, a terrible idea even, but he was the only thing that gave you a semblance of excitement in this dreadful place

you hear a rustle in the bush below, and you peer down and find Shang Tsung staring up at you, waving with that signature smirk on his face

you look behind you, making sure your door was locked and the pillows were shoved into the sheets, before you hop down the balcony and land with a soft thud

he smiles at you, and you draw him in for a hug, letting yourself sink into the feeling of familiarity and warmth as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck

you pull away with a wide smile and drag him off to explore the night world, the only time you really had any freedom

you tell him about your uneventful day, all the ridiculous things you tried to keep yourself entertained, and Shang Tsung hums along, staring at you underneath the moon

once you quiet down and flop down onto the field, surrounded by flowers, Shang Tsung sits next to you and tells you about his day

you nod along as he tells you about his stories, and you tuck a piece of hair behind his ear when he becomes too enraptured with his own story

he glances at you, eyes soft and warm as he brings you into his lap, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you sweetly

you sigh into the kiss, melting into his kiss as his hands hold onto the small of  your back, keeping you secure against him

one of his hands travel up to cradle the back of your head, and your hand slides up to cup Shang Tsung’s face

he kisses you desperately as always, as if scared you’ll be ripped apart from him, and he never wants to let you go

never in his centuries of living had he ever been so enraptured by anything, even in his chase for evermore souls to consolidate his power

you were…so far apart and so close to everything he chased after, and he found himself falling for you so much faster than he thought he ever could

your were strong but still soft, untouched by the spoils and horrors of war and ever-desperate grabs for power, so different from his entire life of struggle

it’s something he craves, something he hungers over and would slave over if he could just a bit of your sweetness all to himself

you pull back and lay your head into his chest as he pets your hair, combing through the strands with his fingers as he tells you about the stars and the moon

he often tells you your eyes remind him of the moon, glowing bright and lighting the way for those lost in the night

on those nights when he visits you when you’re bedridden, they glow ever so softer, weaker, and it scares him that you would become mortal

that he would outlive you and have nothing but the wisps of your memory as you fade from time and he lives on, alone

but you’re here, alive and well and still godly

you two fall asleep in the field of flowers, surrounded by the warmth of the night and the embrace of sweetness

you wake up a the sunlight hits you, and Shang Tsung presses a kiss to your forehead before you two get up and walk back to the base

you don’t feel so right, hadn’t been feeling quite right for the past few weeks, but you had figured it was just your sickness flaring up

but this was different, you stop as you feel your stomach lurch, and you fall down to your knees as you throw up acid

Shang Tsung kneels down, pulling your hair to the side as you heave and gasp and cry as your stomach empties itself

you feel faint, light-headed and almost fall down to the side if it weren’t for Shang Tsung holding you up

you tell him you’re fine, just another bout, but you throw up again, dry-heaving as you struggle to breathe

Shang Tsung feels fear pool in the bottom of his stomach, feels his hands grow cold and clammy as you continue to struggle to breathe

he picks you up the second you’re done, hurrying through the woods and making sure none of the branches hit you as he tries to make his way back to the base as fast as possible

you protest, weakly hitting his chest as your face pales, telling him that your father cannot find out about you two

Shang Tsung silences you, telling you that your health comes first, that he will deal with the wrath of your father if need be

he shows up at the entrance of the academy and barges in through the doors, and the monks immediately take up a defensive stance, glaring at the sight of you sickly and weak in his arms

Raiden bursts through the lightning and nearly goes to kill Shang Tsung until he sees you in his arms

immediately, his face drops, and his entire posture tenses as he roars at Shang Tsung to return you, to give back his child

Shang Tsung ignores his threats and growls of warning, and he tells you you’ve fallen ill, that you keep throwing up and it isn’t your usual bouts of sickness

Raiden raises his eyes in surprise when Shang Tsung comes forward and lays you gently on the ground, tucking your hair behind your ears

you hold onto his hand stubbornly, refusing to let go and telling him he has to come with you, to be with you, please, you need him right now

Shang Tsung looks up to Raiden, and your father tsks but tells the monks to lower their weapon and their guard and has a healer come and check you out

Shang Tsung carries you to the medicine ward, and he’s there as the healer assesses you and asks you the questions you’ve become used to

your father stands off to the side, jaw clenched and fists crackling with electricity, but Shang Tsung does nothing, just holds your hand as the healer fusses over you

they press down on your stomach, check your temperature, do a few spiritual tests on you before they hum and finger the beads in their hands

they tell you you’re pregnant, about a few months in, and your jaw drops open

you can hear the crackles of electricity in the room, and you glance over to your father, looking like he’s about to have a heart attack and also kill Shang Tsung at the same time

you look to Shang Tsung, and he’s staring down at your stomach in wonder, one hand going down to caress your stomach gently, eyes wide and filled with stars

he asks in a quiet voice that he’s going to be a father? and the healer nods at him, leaving the room to give your family some privacy

you father walks over to you, pushing away Shang Tsung, spewing obscenities at him as electricity forms in his hands, ready to kill Shang Tsung right here and now

you grab onto your father’s arms and tell him to back up, that Shang Tsung is the father to your child and you will not have your child not have both parents like you

the comment seems to make your father soften, calm down a bit as he remembers how you, his own blood and family, were scared of him because he had never been present in your life

he calms down and exits the room, needing to take a few deep breaths and calm down before he could proceed, and it leaves you and Shang Tsung alone

Shang Tsung stares at you in wonder, caressing your stomach as the future fills his head

never had he thought he would have a family, a child to care for, someone to raise and and to love

he looks up at you and kisses you, hoping that the action is enough to tell you about how much he loves you, how much he appreciates you, that he would do anything for you

you seem to understand what he’s trying to convey, and you bring him in even closer as you kiss

it might not have been conventional, but you were in love with Shang Tsung, tied to him heart and soul, and he was just the same, his soul yours to own

[yestrday]

Thinking about Dain being a cousin of the twins, like, he comes to their home once in a blue moon, but when he is in town he will surely invite mc to a night out or for some hanging around; and mc may accept because he is a breath of fresh air, specially with the whole academy being after them.

Of course, Dain may or not harbor the same feelings as their peers, but they don’t need to know that just yet :)!

(I DONT REMEMBER IF DAIN HAD ALREADY APPEARED IN THE ACADEMY AU SO I CAME WITH THIS IDEA IM SO SORRY (＞人＜;))

dainsleif who was a graduate of your academy too, praised for intelligence and good looks. there's no doubt he's a cousin of the twins, with that same shimmery blonde hair and their knack for academics.

after graduating, he got into a university a city over, so he barely sees his cousins anymore. aether speaks fondly of him, talking about how cool and mysterious he is. ("he's so cool, [y. name], i swear! he's got this aura that just makes you... respect.") lumine thinks highly of him too, but she tends to nitpick his flaws more than aether does. ("oh please, he might look cool, but he can barely hold a conversation without making it awkward. he's not really all that.")

dainsleif who shows up at their house impromptu for a visit. you happen to be there too, and you stare wide-eyed at the man whose face you've only seen on picture frames. he stares back at you too, because he doesn't exactly know how to act in front of a stranger.

as he stays in the city, he sees how people of your academy tend to... gravitate towards you. like, literally. after accidentally bumping into you at the grocery, he can see at least five boys from your school lurking around the corners. from that day on, he's offered to escort you whenever you're running tasks outside.

he used to just spend breaks in his dorms, but he finds himself coming back to his hometown these days. his visits come and go, sometimes he'd show up at weekends, sometimes radio silence, but he delights at the opportunity that breaks provide him with. even at his uni, he's worried sick about that little harem of yours. with him by your side, he can at least protect you even outside your school grounds.

he listens to your worries, pushes the cart while you do your groceries, covers your head with an umbrella, keep you close when walking the streets at night... everything to let you know that you will always have him to rely on. not those pesky brats who're too unhinged and obsessed without any care for your feelings. not those brats who get to spend every day and every hour with you at school, who irritate him so much his head boils at the thought of this injustice.

"sometimes i wish i were more like you," you sigh to dainsleif one day. you see it catches dain off by surprise, his eyes wide but flattered at the confession, before they slant into saddened crescents. he turns away from you, facing the gray sky.

"believe me," dain mutters. "you wouldn't want that."

"humble as always. your abilities aren't something to brush off like that."

"... not like that." he looks conflicted as he watches you carefully. his clothes ruffle and fly in the wind, complementing the troubled look in his eye. "there are thoughts within me that... i cannot suppress. thoughts that scare me to even think about. things about myself that i never knew eventually coming to life. it's horrible."

"'cause you're guilty?"

a forlorn sigh. "... because i'm not the man i wish you'd have in the end."

[det-loki]

I’ve always toyed with the idea of an x reader where you knew Loki in his youth, got split up for whatever reason, and found each other again because you both went into law enforcement :0 If that interests you I think you’d do a great job of fleshing it out :D

love this! thank you, and I'm sorry for the delay. hope you like it 🖤

tw: blood and panic attack mention

Children are born with an innocence, an ignorant imagination and concept of the world. sticky fingers dig through the mud, catching under their fingernails. Dark crescent moons of dirt signified a good day.

Now, the dirt caught under your nails made you physically ill. Hours ago, the frozen ground seemed to be your only life line as you heaved and gasped into the dirt, dried brown grass caressing your palms. Death was a violent lover. It clutched at you and held you until it swallowed you whole. Leaving only an imprint of what was.

You met him when you were a kid. Only innocence never got to be yours. At three years old, you went into foster care for the first time. Floated in and out since then. The facility you frequented the most was nestled right next to the Huntington Boys Home, a chain link fence the only divider. Conyers liked to advertise itself as a quiet community for the perfect family. The poor, lost souls of society were cornered away on the outskirts of town, unseen and unheard.

The year you turned thirteen changed everything for you. You met a boy along the fence line, dark hair overgrown and blue eyes piercing, he introduced himself as David. Parents were no good, he said. Lived with an uncle, didn't work out, he said. The boy smelled like cigarettes, blood long dried and caked over his bruised knuckles, his mouth tasted like whiskey and his eyes were stormy. And you loved it all.

Time changes things. At 18, you aged out of foster care and entered the world. Once unseen, unheard and unwanted, your soul burned with anger and spite. You were going to be seen, and they were going to hear you. You lost David at 16. One day, he just disappeared without a trace. You heard whisperings of assault charges, military school, and prison. But the story changed weekly. You had accepted his disappearance. He was just gone. And that was that.

You fell into the police academy haphazardly. An old social worker on your case had wormed her way into your head, telling you that you could help people the way you never were. Make a difference. Understand in a way most couldn't. Change things. Ten years later, you think she's full of shit.

Folders were piled high onto your desk, your badge digging into your skin as you were slumped over the paperwork. Eyes bleary and head pounding, David approaches from behind you. His hands tug at your office chair, the wheels screeching as he turns you to face him, "Go home."

"No. I'm busy." You try to turn back towards your desk but David's arms are caging you in, halting the chair from movement.

"You've been here since 4am. The only thing I've seen you eat is one granola bar, and you're doing that thing you used to do when we were kids."

You looked down to see your throbbing bloody thumb, an old habit you hadn't kicked. You picked and picked and picked until it was raw, bloody and infected. You noticed blood smudge on the corner of the papers at your desk and smeared into the fabric of your blouse. Shoving hands into the socket of your aching eyes, "Fine."

A glimmer of satisfaction washed over Loki's eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips, "I'll see you at home."

Home. After finishing the police academy, you were employed by the Conyers Police Department. A year on the job, and David reappeared. A police officer with cropped hair, a stony face, and the same stormy eyes. You two had been partnered together, Captain O’Malley unknowing of the history you two had shared. Not many words were spoken between you two until a close call that ended up with you in the hospital with a gunshot wound. David moved in that night after you were discharged from the hospital.

Years later, you two became the youngest detectives on the force. And the best. But you kept that quiet, the gnawing self doubt ate away at you, berating you constantly.

Unlocking the door to your home, you dropped the duffle bag at the door and toed off your boots. Making your way to the kitchen sink, you plunged your hands into too hot water and scrubbed away the dirt and blood until your skin was red. Your throat was scratchy from crying, your head pounding from exhaustion. The case you were working on was eating you alive. Two missing little girls. The latest lead had been a loss, a house full of scribbled mazes, a sink full of pigs blood and buried mannequins.

Showering did little to ease the tension in your body, the cheap beer and greasy pizza sprawled across the coffee table in front of you staved off the impending collapse another day longer. By the time David came home, your brain was fuzzy from the alcohol and you were falling into his embrace nestled into the couch.

The boy you met at thirteen was your savior, and 16 years later he still was. The world was crumbling around you, this case was consuming you, but David was with you. And tomorrow will always be there.

[thisisnotthenerd]

ok evil faculty count go:

goldenhoard/kalvaxus

coach daybreak

arcturus grix? (may have been modified, may have been trying to disrupt the rat grinders' ritual)

porter cliffbreaker

jace stardiamond

doreen technically (possessed by a corn monster and murdered)

the aguefort adventuring academy is the world of spyre's premier adventuring school. it's well-established and has a reputation for turning out competent high-level adventurers. alumni sometimes come back to teach--it is home to many powerful adventurers passing their skills on to the next generation of adventurers.

it just also happens to be the intended prison of kalvaxus, arthur aguefort's wizard's sanctum, home to many magical artifacts and the center point of multiple existing protections on elmville and the nation of solace. it's no wonder they deal with evil faculty coercing students into their schemes; they have access to powerful young adventurers and the resources they need to exert influence--why wouldn't they be there? they can just get the kids to participate in magical rituals to do what they want, knowingly or not. it's not like aguefort enforces any oversight, especially when he's dead and taking over heaven, escalating tensions with fallinel, or exploring the dawn of time with his daughter.

if the plan revolves around elmville they can't do anything but slowly advance their planswhile he's present, so when he's gone plans swing into full force; the bad kids are just unlucky enough to be attending when he's gone.

the second rise of kalvaxus in the bad kids' freshman year sets off so many world ending events. obviously the quest for the crown of the nightmare king because arianwen & kalina capitalized on aguefort's absence, but there's also no night yorb if the bad kids don't go to leviathan. theoretically the night yorb still happens, but more due to the influence of the cult of the yorbies.

the crescent moon trading company wouldn't have been able to try to sink leviathan without the bad kids a) coming to leviathan and getting a tangible connection to the cult of bill seacaster in hell (alistair ash). they were capturing gnomes at the border of sylvaire for years, so that likely would have been the same, but was probably made easier with the freeing of sylvaire from the influence of the nightmare king.

the release of talura wouldn't have happened without the maidens being captured at the lair of kalvaxus. furthermore, the nightmare king and the nekronomikron were both explicitly associated with kalvaxus.

the fall of kalvaxus just made it easier for jace and porter to try and get their scheme going. a recurring motif in sophomore year was curses riding under other curses--this time we have schemes riding under other schemes.

[talonabraxas]

Triple Goddess )🌑( Talon Abraxas In many Wiccan traditions, the Goddess takes a three-fold form, known as the Triple Goddess. Her individual aspects, known as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, are aligned with the phases of the Moon’s cycle as it orbits the Earth—the waxing crescent, the Full Moon, and the waning crescent..

Each aspect within the Triple Goddess is associated with particular seasons and other natural phenomena, as well as human characteristics and elements of life on Earth. These associations can be used to call on the appropriate aspect of the Goddess during magical work, ritual worship, and prayer.

[beezonia]

So my brain has been thinking of Cresecent moon academy again (my twst all girl fan school) and I redid some of my dorm leaders (lesser known villains tbh)

Here are the dorm leaders (no names yet I’m still working on that) and who they’re twisted from

———

Headless Horseman (The adventures of Ichabod and mr toad) - Dorm is probably like a graveyard and woodland area mixed into one

I’d say it’s more like a cabin in the woods

Firebird (Fantasia) - Dorm is more like a rocky hill with lava fountains and waterfalls

dorm would be maybe hidden in the rock face

Madame Medusa (The Rescuers) - A large antique mansion on a moat (still workshopping that) inside it’s a lot more cosy a grand full of jewels

Bill Sykes (Oliver and Company) - More like a office building with a very sleek design so like a dorm that feels more like an apartment block

Professor Ratigan (Great mouse detective) - A large library/conference hall esque dorm very grand and old oak wood esque

Prince John (Robin Hood) - Dorm is a freaking castle tbh

Sabor (Tarzan) - Lush rainforest with beautiful greenery around the tree house dorm

——

Let me know if you want more of this!!

[team-118]

ok I decided I don't actually care if I get prompted or not I'm just gonna start writing so. lmao. enjoy!

Eddie-centric, Chris and Eddie, pre-201, 1.1k, on ao3

Inspired by this post by @hunybody which gave me fucking brainworms.

65. I'll help you study.

Tomorrow, he starts at the 118.

The words had started swimming off the page hours ago. Eddie’s temple is fucking throbbing, but he can't look away from the textbook splayed out in front of him. He knows that if he looks up now, he'll come face to face with the brick of a digital clock he's had since high school - reading some ungodly time like three in the morning, probably.

Instead, he rubs his knuckles over his blurry eyes and starts tracing another diagram. At this point, he could draw the blood vessels in the human arm in his sleep - and honestly, he might be doing it asleep right now - but he refuses to take any chances.

Tomorrow, he starts at the 118.

Eddie can't really remember the last time he wanted something to go well so badly. He was a good student until senior year, kept his grades up enough to keep his mother happy and to earn the occasional nod of approval from his father. He had half-formed dreams, this wispy idea of the person he grew up wanting to be. He knows how to study. (Knows this isn't it.)

But then there was Shannon, and then the army, and then Chris, God, Chris. He wouldn’t take it back, not when it gave him Chris. But sometimes, he misses the feeling of being…genuinely good at something. Working his ass off, and then watching it pay off. Burning himself up with how bad he wants something, until his eyes sting and his fingers burn and there's the cold, fiery satisfaction of knowing he's truly given it his all. Knowing what the fuck he’s doing with his hands. Eddie doesn't really get that, these days - not between three dead-end jobs and the voice that keeps telling him to quit while he's ahead, which sounds a little too much like his mother for comfort. Maybe he could get it in LA.

And he's good at firefighting, is the thing. He didn't really keep in touch with anyone from the Academy, doesn’t have much to compare to, but he figures that having two stations fighting over him is a good sign. And when that one instructor had kept him after class (while Eddie distractedly checked for texts about Christopher) and told him to consider the paramedic route, it hadn't been for nothing. And when he had the fastest time in his class for that baby fire rescue drill, forcing himself to control his breathing when all he could hear were Christopher’s cries, it meant something.

Eddie could do this. He could really do this. He wasn't going to strut into the firehouse with an ego - had too much shit on his plate to even pull it off, really - but he wasn't about to spend his probie year as the man behind on all his shifts. Talk is cheap, though, and Eddie is a man of his word, which brings him back to this: anatomy diagram, flashcards scattered, the dim light of his bedside table lamp and the dogged kind of determination that Eddie hasn't really felt about his career in, well, maybe ever. And the clock next to him, which reads 3:17 AM.

He forces himself to exhale. The little crescent moons his nails are digging into his palms are going to leave a mark, but they'll be gone by the time his alarm rings. Tomorrow, he's Staff Sergeant Diaz, on his way to Firefighter Diaz - competent, unflappable, earning his title. No one needs to know how fucking hard he's fighting to tread water.

Eddie finishes up the drawing, goes to flip the page, and ends up knocking over the glass of water he'd sat down with. Thankfully, the plastic doesn't shatter, but the liquid soaks into his socks in seconds. The cold hardwood under him does nothing to muffle the clatter as it falls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eddie mutters to himself, clearing his notes and books out of the way. Shit, Christopher. He freezes, halfway crouched, not daring to breathe in case his son stirs.

The only sound is the tick of the clock in the hallway. He breathes again, trying to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up his mess. He almost gets away with it, too.

“Daddy?”

Eddie whirls around, gasping, hand to his heart on instinct. It makes Chris giggle.

“You look like someone out of Abuela's movies,” he tells Eddie around a smile. His crutches click on the floor as he comes closer, and Eddie’s glad the water is gone so he won't slip.

“Aren't you supposed to be asleep, Superman?” Eddie asks Chris lightly, pulling him in for a hug.

“You're not asleep,” Chris pouts, and Eddie can feel it in his shoulder. God, this kid.

“No,” Eddie admits, sighing. “No, I was thinking about tomorrow.”

“Are you nervous?” Chris's eyes are huge, round like a full moon.

“Yeah, buddy, I'm a little nervous,” Eddie tells him. “But I'll be okay. I've got my good luck charm right here, don't I?” He kisses Christopher’s cheek, wet and messy so Chris will squirm in his hold and laugh again.

“Daddy!” Chris squeals, and Eddie tickles him until Chris is kicking before he picks him up, spins him around, and deposits him safely on Eddie’s bed.

Chris looks up at him, breathless, bright. He picks up the diagram Eddie had been working on, discarded on the bed next to Chris. Chris looks at it intently, eyebrows furrowed, considering.

“I'll help you study,” he tells Eddie seriously.

“Chris, you need to be in bed.”

Chris crosses his little arms. “So do you. I'm not going if you're not going.”

And, well, the kid's got a point.

“Nothing gets past you,” Eddie sighs, lying down next to Chris. He grins back, big and toothy.

“What's that on your forehead?” Chris asks, reaching out to touch.

“Hm?”

“You have lines.” Chris’s little index finger runs between his eyebrows, smoothing out the creases.

“Oh, um,” Eddie falters. “I guess it happens sometimes when you get older and you worry about things. Your forehead gets all tense.”

Chris is fascinated. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really.” Chris pushes, testing. Eddie winces. “Okay, sometimes. Ouch. A little.”

Chris smiles up at him. “You'll fix them, Daddy. In your big red firetruck.”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I'll try.”

“I know you can do it,” Chris tells him, voice fading into a sleepy whisper.

Eddie pulls him in by the back of his head, kissing his forehead. “Thank God for you, kid.”

“Love you,” Chris mumbles. “I helped,” he says, all quiet and proud.

Eddie laughs under his breath. “You always do, Superman.”

If you want to send me a prompt you can do it from here.

[cannibal-nightmares]

Teleharmonic: Smoke and Light

An exploration on migraines and communication.

It took me about 9 years to learn that not it's not actually common to experience migraines often. Huh. That was news to me. I find great comfort in putting the skrunglies in my shoes, so here you go. If this seems exaggerated, know it's not.

Soul Eater - Stein x Spirit (implied, SFW) // sickfic, hurt+comfort, tough love, ship up to interpretation, they bicker like a married couple Word count - 2,746 -- [AO3 link] -- ["Teleharmonic"]

The sun began to dip on a late Friday afternoon in spring, natural lighting clashing mute against the fluorescents of the academy corridors. Professor Stein leisurely patrolled the halls for any straggling students before the doors of the school closed for everyone but the holdovers to leave for spring break, looping through the labyrinth with his soul perception reaching out and peeking through the windows of the classrooms. It was a sleepy-enough afternoon to exert such focus.

Stein had started his loop at the seventeenth hour, pacing to the left out of the infirmary, leaving the Crescent Moon lecture hall behind him to be his last stop on the reframe. At the eighteenth, it was just his luck he found a faint and dim-trembling soul beyond his classroom wall.

As he entered, the wavelength started to feel familiar. Narrowing his search led him to the second level of the tiered theater where an otherwise tall red-haired man looked small lying sprawled on the floor under the desk ledge. The fingers of his left hand that were resting backwards on his forehead barely twitched in response to the meister’s presence, his breathing was shallow and meticulous.

“Spirit?”

The weapon murmured something incoherent as he looked up to find the doctor towering over him. “Franken?” He started, but his voice drifted off before he could finish the second syllable.

"You're not hungover, are you?"

Three pinched fingers. No. He could have been insulted by the interrogation, but he seemed too exhausted.

Stein weighed how he wanted to continue their interaction. In a matter of a split second, he confessed to himself the situation had real taunting potential.

Headache? Stein gestured by touching his index fingers together near his forehead. Spirit nodded his fist at the wrist, then weakly signed "BAD."

Even though his partner wouldn't have seen it, Stein had to keep from rolling his eyes. "Bad" was implied. Spirit kept his bouts with chronic migraines under wraps over the years and there were only a few people who knew about them. The doctor had never seen someone so sensitive to sound like Spirit was and his own voice rattled through his teeth, often leaving him muttering slushed nonsense if not resorting to shaping words with his hands.

Stein awkwardly stepped to Spirit's side between the rows, now facing him directly, and carefully crouched to his level.

Have you taken any medicine?

Spirit breathed meticulously, squinting up at his meister, then defeatedly closed his eyes again to escape the strain. No.

Professor Stein couldn't hold back an annoyed scoff. "Idiot," he forcefully tapped Albarn's shoulder with his palm, causing him to yelp and made him boomerang his attention. The instant Spirit wanted to snap back at him was the same second he realized he couldn't.

Despite his cruelty, Death Scythe didn't have to explain himself; Stein knew these attacks to have their moments of cloudy deception before becoming full-blown hail storms, and it was very clear a torrential downpour had commenced within his weapon partner's skull. It was worse than "bad," and the peak wasn't on the radar yet.

It helped, too, that Stein dealt with his own share of migraines, he just had different ways of coping with it.

"Spirit," Stein whispered impossibly quiet to stir Albarn's eyes open to see him sign. Can you sit up?

A beat, and a slight dilation in his pupils told his partner a sincere, "I'll try." He let out a weak exhale with the intention of trying to move, but his arms shook as he attempted to shift his elbows underneath himself in ultra-slow motion. Franken re-adjusted to kneel to help guide him, but gauged Spirit's pain by what he was able to do on his own before moving in to help. Not even lifting his shoulders off the floor, he collapsed back into the tile in defeat.

"Death, how did you even get in here?" Stein muttered mostly to himself, but Albarn's eyes started to water and his chest convulsed with a single choked sob; from pain or otherwise, he had to keep from crying at all costs, but his gaze remained magnetized to the underside of the work tables. Franken followed his trajectory and was immediately familiar with the desk space. Was this where he always hid, afterall?

He should have guessed sooner.

The lecture halls weren't the worst place to find sanctuary, either: The floors were cold and the rows of tiered desks made for thick shadows; most of the rooms didn't receive re-entering visitors late in the afternoon, and some of the wings of hallways were dead-quiet. Between the walls of podiums, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat and the blood in your ears.

"Alright," Stein half-sighed in an attempt to stay cordial. I'll be right back.

In a sudden panic, Spirit reached for the professor’s wrist as fast as he could allow himself. His fingers were hot on contact. The sheer heat took Stein by a genuine rising concern and he brought the back of his hand to Spirit's cheek. He shifted his position so that his left palm cupped Spirit's face on one side and the back of his right hand was to his forehead, his glasses slipped downward so he could look his patient in the eyes without a shield in between them. Stein’s hands were cool and soothing and agonizing, all the same, and it was known as the weapon twitched.

"Spirit, are you hallucinating?" His personal curiousness was more prevalent than he intended, but he was certain, too, his growing worry was cutting right through the interpretation.

Albarn couldn't even nod, but met his meister's fingers again in confirmation.

"Okay," Stein concluded, "I'm going to get you out of here. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

A pang in Spirit’s chest at the question coursed the migraine through his body like a pulse. Stein's hushed voice was grating through his skull, but the question stung more: Could he trust him? How dare he even ask.

Death Scythe held eye contact and squeezed Franken's hand.

Stein removed his palm delicately like picking up rose petals, though the moment their skin separated, the meister took to his feet with remarkable haste and descended the stairs as light-footed as possible, disappearing out to the hall. Spirit watched dust and dragons and birds and nerves swim in the dim dark of his blurring vision until it was too tiring to pay attention. Alone now, he tried again to crowbar his elbows underneath his weight, groaning involuntarily to counter against the pain; every movement he made was astoundingly lagged, and what normally would have taken just few seconds felt like eternity until he was sideways-slumped with half his shoulder against the wall. His ears were ringing.

"Deep breaths," he heard a repeated muttering as the room spun. Spirit couldn't keep his eyes open without feeling like he'd fall through the floor, catching himself on the heel of his hand, his hair draping over his now cold-sweat-beaded countenance.

"Deep breaths," Stein's voice cut through the air intentionally as Spirit was going pale in the face. He paced over from out of nowhere and met his weapon on his knees again. A frigid hand met the side of his neck gently.

"Don't push it."

Spirit wasn't sure what was Stein speaking or his wishful imagination.

Sit back. He guided him by the neck and the elbow to be propped up straight against the wall. Stein gracefully laid out a briefcase he had returned with and slipped on some blue nitrile gloves, adjusting his partner's arm to fold and roll up his sleeve.

"I'mgoinna throw up."

Stein chuffed. "No, you're not." He dipped his head so his next remark was unavoidable. Maka would be so angry if you vomited at her desk. He half-jested, but it was clear Spirit couldn't focus enough to comprehend what he had said. Swiftly, the professor tied a tourniquet to Albarn's bicep and reached into his pocket in response to the disorientation.

"This is going to hurt," he warned, but didn't give the time to react as he shone a flashlight pen into Spirit's eyes, pressing his brow with his other thumb. The weapon jerked instinctually but couldn't escape Stein's firm grasp--the light was like darts straight to his brain--and couldn't help the vulnerable hiss in response.

"It may not be good news to you right now, but you're not dying," the doctor whispered. He prepared the limp arm in front of him with a sterilized wipe. Death Scythe didn't even think to ask what he was about to give him.

"Where'd’you get this empathy?" Spirit slurred.

Stein practically ignored the question with the worst cop-out joke-answer given who it was directed to. "I have a stethoscope for a reason."

"Mm." He amused. Funny.

Franken held a vial upside down and filled a syringe skillfully, tapping it first before bracketing a vein with his fingers.

"An anti-nausea. We'll start there so I can get you out of here."

"I could kiss you."

"I'm sure you would."

Stein untied the band and put things away into the case, items of gauze and the like trading between his hands as he finished wrapping the injection point. He snapped his gloves off and brought cold knuckles to Spirit's forehead once more.

"Is that painful?"

Albarn just pressed into the gesture hoping that his partner would read his mind in putting both hands to his temples or soft fingertips to his eyes. Stein's hands were always freezing.

"Why here?" The meister asked. He could guess and confidently conclude the front of the answer, but there was a fragment missing. Maybe it was the illogic of sentimentality that yet again confused him.

Spirit didn’t reply with anything more than the world’s most minute headshake.

Some other time. Can you stand?

The hesitation was expected, and, like a corpse, Spirit brought a lax arm to Stein’s shoulder, exhaling slowly and thoughtfully. Franken was startled to find himself surprised.

“You want to do it in one go?” He searched Spirit’s eyes, who was evading the exchange. The question was rhetorical but the pause was deliberate.

“Yeah, just…” He trailed, the vibrations of his own voice in his throat made him feel sick. “Take it easy.”

Stein didn’t give a countdown and hoisted Albarn’s deadweight up to his feet.

“Fucking hell, Franken…” Spirit panicked to steady himself by gripping the front of his meister’s coat in his free hand, the tension in his fingers like lead, unintentionally leaning his head into Stein’s chest both out of imbalance and child-like instinct to seek solace. Fortunately for them both, the professor was fortified.

Stein stalled, dreading yet another polite rhetorical question cut with humor. “Are you going to make it?”

He huffed. “Yeah, yeah, just… Yeah.”

Spirit let himself out of his partner’s grip, but held onto his sleeve for guidance and reassurance, though–slowly trudging halfway down the stairs–he eventually returned his balance on Stein’s shoulder. At the bottom of the steps was a wheelchair from the dispensary.

“Oh, come on, Stein, really–”

“Where do you think we’re going?” He cut him off.

“Home, I’d hope,” Death Scythe started when a wave of vertigo overcame him and he tightened his grip.

“Figures you would assume that and decline this.” The meister dizzily turned close into Spirit to disarm and unbalance him, bracing him by forearms to help him sit. “I know how you’re having to think about breathing, much less walking. Let go of your pride and let me help you.” He slipped off his lab coat, and handed it to him before he got a chance to shield his face from the orange-yellow light shining through the frosted window in the classroom door.

“For your eyes. It’s golden hour.”

All so quickly humbled and surprised, Spirit’s overactive nerves allowed him to feel for once just how soft the fabric was bunched in his grasp. He looked up to meet his partner’s face, but he had already circled around to push him.

“Thank you, Stein.”

As the doctor propped open the door, Albarn was fast to actualize how brutal the setting sun was through the hallway windows and didn’t give a second thought to burying his face into the coat, the smell of smoke, menthol, and bleach piercing axes into his skull. It was a battle of wits against smoke and light. Somewhere in the mix was the comforting scent of bergamot he opted to devote all of his attention to, every single breath focused and deliberate to keep from thinking about the dizzying displacement of the rolling chair. Soon he heard another door open and Stein speak.

“Stay there. I’ll draw the curtains.”

Given the short time elapsed, Spirit could accurately guess they were in the infirmary now. A few moments, and the coat was being tugged at.

Stein’s irises had an eerie reflecting glow from the parallel paned door that highlighted them in the dark and he gestured to invite Albarn to the hospital cot. He flipped the brake on and took Franken’s hand who once again moved to catch and support his weight after it unpredictably faltered out from under him once more. Lying back was pure agony, but Spirit had started to bank on hoping it would be all over soon at the whim of Franken Stein.

The professor toed a wheeled stool over to the bed while stretching new gloves over his hands and preparing an I.V. stand. He cleared his throat pushing a tray of supplies closer and getting comfortable on the seat, but Spirit was starting to have a hard time holding onto the details again. He tried to ground himself by making more conversation no matter how much it hurt.

“What were you doing here so late?”

The same as you. He took a second to sign, concentrating as he tied another tourniquet before starting to prepare the line. “Looking to find someone.”

“...We’re not so great at communicating, are we?”

Stein hummed flatly. “It’s a learned trait.” His tone and expression was not forgiving this time in being unreadable. Normally there would be a forced leniency, a sharp look, a twitch on his lips, but he did not humor being polite in that instance.

The pinch in Albarn’s arm was magnified by his current position and he couldn’t help but clutch what he realized was still Stein’s coat across his waist. The reminder was comforting and fought against the fact of the matter.

Despite all of his acknowledgement and reservation, the honesty being skirted around irked Stein.

"You can't let it get this bad." He said, flushing saline.

“You’re annoyed a migraine got the best of me?”

“I’m frustrated knowing you would have expected something different of me if I were in your position. I mean, what was your plan? I’ve known your attacks to go on for days, were you just going to stay there until someone found you, or were you waiting to stumble home and risk having a seizure on the street?”

“I’ve never–”

“It’s the principle, Death Scythe.” It was then Spirit’s eyes started to water, heart pounding in his ribcage.

Stein forced a sigh, understanding all the moving parts of the variables at play, what selection of words in what tone with what timing and cadence would result in what reactions. It wasn’t his inherent intention to make Spirit upset, but he did want him to listen. They held a moment of quiet as the completed I.V. cocktail started to drip.

“Punishing yourself instead of facing the people you love isn’t charming. You can call for me, regardless of your expectations of other people. We are too old to stay so stubborn.”

Spirit took pause, then noted a different detail. “This sounds familiar…”

“It’s all learned traits.” He repeated.

“What we learn doesn’t define us?”

“What we learn shapes our perspective. What we refuse to learn determines our experience. We can’t reduce each other to a set of influences. We are not the product of anything, it’s all behaviorism.”

Spirit was almost heartbroken by Stein’s ranting, but the panging in his head started to ease. The flashes of color in his vision were fading and the shadows seemed to be retreating rather than running inward.

“If that’s how you want to see this.”

He put out his hand and Stein didn’t hesitate to comfort it.

(Further notes on AO3.)

[valy-gc]

They often say that NRC and RSA are the most prestigious school. We also know now there is NBC (Noble Bell College). But there is more others school, right? And until now, we only seen all-boy school... but we know women have magic too! So... I had some fun imagining some other school X) Tell me if you like them :)

Twisted Wonderland other schools

Sunset Seraph Academy (SSA) – Sunset Savanah - all-girls Sunset Seraph Academy is a prestigious all-girls magical institution nestled within Sunset Savannah. The emblem of the school is a crescent moon with a sparkling star nestled within.

Obsidian Citadel Academy (OCA) – Rose Kingdom - all-boy Nestled within the heart of the Rose Kingdom, Obsidian Citadel Academy is an all-boys school known for its elegance. The school is situated within a massive citadel, adorned with black marble and intricate rose motifs. The school emblem is a black obsidian rose, symbolizing strength and beauty.

Thornvale Academy (TA) – Valley of Thorns - all-girls Hidden within a treacherous and thorny labyrinth in the Valley of Thorns, is Thornvale Academy, an all-girls school. The school emblem is a blooming rose entwined with thorny vines, representing the beauty and strength found within nature.

Radiant Oasis College (ROC) – Scalding Sands – Mixed Rising like a mirage in the Scalding Sands, Radiant Oasis College is a mixed-gender school. The academy is centered around a lush oasis, with glistening pools and verdant palm trees. The school emblem is a sparkling droplet of water surrounded by vibrant palm leaves, representing the balance between life and the desert's harsh conditions.

Emberglow Academy (EA) – Pyroxene – All-girls Perched on the edge of a dormant volcano in the Land of Pyroxene, Emberglow Academy is an all-girls school. The academy is adorned with glowing ember-like decorations and elegant dance studios. The school emblem is a swirling flame intertwined with delicate ballet slippers, symbolizing the fusion of passion and artistry.

Siren's Song College (SSC) – Coral Sea – All-girls Nestled within a hidden cove, Siren's Song College is an all-girls school for mermaids. The academy is surrounded by shimmering underwater backgrounds and lush gardens filled with magical sea flora. The school emblem is a graceful mermaid holding a lyre, symbolizing the harmony and enchantment found within the students of Siren's Song Academy.

Coralfin Academy (CA) – Coral Sea – Mixed Located in a majestic underwater cave, Coralfin Academy is a mixed school exclusively for merfolk mages in the Coral Sea. The academy is adorned with shimmering coral formations and bioluminescent sea creatures. The school emblem is a swirling vortex of water surrounding a trident.

[ddagent]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Oh god, this is so hard! As it stands on AO3, I have 309 fics posted (and with 5 days until summer break, so many more on the way). So *coughs* I choose a few more than five...

Partners: Academy cadet Melinda May expects to be assigned with a fellow specialist after Graduation. When a provisional list says otherwise, Melinda decides to prove that she and her future partner are not a good match. But as she gets to know field agent Phil Coulson, Melinda realises they are perfect together in more ways than one.

Drive Time: Former CIA Agent Melinda May is having trouble adjusting to the real world. But she finds help in the form of radio DJ Phil Coulson.

Head, Hand, Heart: When Jaime slays King Aerys, there is no one to take his place. Ned, fearing a Lannister rise to power, suggests his father’s ward, Brienne of Tarth, take the throne. She reluctantly agrees, and finds an ally in Ser Jaime. His loyalty is given by asking just one question: why. As the Maid of Tarth becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Kingslayer becomes Hand to the Queen. And, the longer they spend together, possibly more.

Sun and Moon: On his seventh nameday, Jaime Lannister receives his soul mark: a crest with yellow suns and crescent moons. He thinks nothing of it until forty years later, when he meets museum curator Brienne Tarth.

What Comes After: John Sheridan dies at Coriana VI. Six days later, he returns home.

Every Courtesy: John and Delenn's first date, as told through captain's logs, unsent letters, text messages and interviews with the President and Entil'Zha themselves.

And from my newest fandom:

Red Moon: In 1968 at the IAC conference, two lonely engineers make a wager over who will go first to the Moon. In 1969, Sergei calls upon Margo to collect his winnings.

Handsome Young Suitor: Every day, Margo Madison has lunch with Russian defector, Sergei Nikulov. When the gossips at JSC assume that they're in a relationship, Margo decides to take decisive action: ignore Sergei and hope him (and her feelings) go away. But Sergei has never met a problem he could not solve and he is not so easily dissuaded.

[rdbrainz]

nnoitra is my absolute fave and i adore your art!!! id love to see some kind of dynamic fighting pose of him in your style, but im also curious about any art or headcanons you might have about him if he had experienced the living world somewhat- like what foods would he like, or hobbies, or how would he spend time w others? sorry for the long ask love you bye!!!!

Thanks🤧❤ !!! And ohh that's a good ask! I have like a couple of answers for different turns of events on this one... Might as well also share some of the other ideas I have so it's a lot and even more.

But well if we're talking about regular hollow Nnoitra I think he'd be interested in all kinds of entertainment. Mainly music. He always struck me as a music person tbh especially since I firmly believe he'd be involved with goth subculture in some way or the other. I can see him collecting CDs as a hobby. Considering that my version of Nnoitra absolutely HATES thinking into things too much if they have something to do with his relationships, himself or the hollow existence as a whole I guess doing nothing when he's not asleep is hell for him because there's not much to think about in Hueco Mundo anyway. Maybe background music would give him some peace of mind while he's musing to himself. I mean even if his mind would wander back to these topics AT LEAST it won't be as painful to think about it as doing the same while you're surrounded by silence and lying on a hard surface locked up somewhere in Las Noches so no one would gnaw into your damn throat on your free time.

Him being a melomane/an avid music lover would work in any AU or story. I think he'd love A Perfect Circle. You know... considering the crescent moon and circle patterns and the music theme Kubo chose for him.

If we're talking about a bit worse turn of events where - let's say - he ends up in someone's home in the world of the living after he got his ass handed to him by zaraki, had to flee and now he feels worse than ever... watching TV is his other go-to. He'd be in front of it 24/7. It's stupid, sometimes even curious, sometimes confusing and he can either catch up on things or just complain about something to himself. His mind is occupied with something all the time either way.

I also think hollow Nnoitra would be very sceptical about trying human/shinigami food. It doesn't seem appealing to him, unnatural even. Especially if he has someone to feed off of. I believe that arrancars can work like vampires. Shinigamis are just compressed spiritual power so transfusing reiatsu would have the same effect as actually eating a shinigami. What's the point of choosing between flesh, blood and reiatsu if it's all the same in their case 😭. If he ends up living with a human then. Well. Blood sucking it is I guess lmao. Anyway yeah when it comes to food he's more prone to sticking to his hollow side. Though maybe he'd be tempted to try a soda or two.

If he's human/a shinigami then this guy would eat and/or drink literally anything. Especially if it's sea food, meat or something spicy. I had an AU where he was a captain in Gotei 13 and one of his hobbies was visiting karakura and other cities just to absolutely rob food establishments of their supplies. If a restaraunt has an "all you can eat" offer then it might as well be fucking bankrupt. If a cute cafe has a special Valentine's Day offer where couples only pay half the price then "Well I guess I could give someone a call". Cooking though..? Nope. Can't be bothered enough to cook something for himself.

Someone I know also had suggested once that in this AU he'd have a shit ton of hair products. And well it does make sense.

In a Shinigami Academy AU I had he's much younger and edgier LMAO. Goth enough to care about his appearance and wear makeup but too insecure to not stick out too much. He'd love collecting good cool-looking clothing but would literally bite off his own limbs if he had to wear something skin-tight or god forbid skinny jeans. Him and his toothpick legs could never!! Anyway there he wasn't so wary and disdainful towards other people. Desperate for some affection but sadly too air-headed to care enough. So he was sleeping around a lot just for funsies with Shinji as his partner in crime (sorry). I think that's about all I have on this topic!! Tnx again!