❦ Warnings: minor cursing. minor injury and care for injury. mentions of arachnids. very minor self-loathing. warnings will be updated as series continues.
❦ Word Count: 866. word count will be updated as series continues.
❦ Additional Tags: tutoring. hurt/comfort. slow burn. slightly ooc riddle. post-overblot riddle. reader is a little shy and introverted.
𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)
synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.
featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.
content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.
a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3
link(s): (masterlist)
riddle rosehearts
riddle prides himself on maintaining control.
his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.
but the moment he sees you hurt—
everything unravels.
his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.
“who did this?”
his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.
he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—
“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”
his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—
something he didn’t prevent.
“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.
you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.
“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”
he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.
but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—
who did this to you?
his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.
because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—
then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.
his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.
and hurting you is one of them.
leona kingscholar
danger.
his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.
his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.
“what the hell happened?”
his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.
but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.
because right now, you come first.
so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.
“who did this?”
his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.
concern.
fear.
he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.
he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.
“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.
and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—
his patience snaps.
“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”
there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.
if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.
because someone did this.
and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—
then he’s hunting.
“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”
and if you try to stop him?
his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.
“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”
and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.
azul ashengrotto
azul is a man of careful calculations.
every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.
but then he sees you hurt.
and suddenly, all of that control is gone.
his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.
“you—what happened?”
his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.
he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—
what if i make it worse?
he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.
“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”
his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?
and then you try to brush it off.
“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”
his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.
“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”
because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.
“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”
his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.
his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.
because if he lets go—if he loses you—
he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.
and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.
“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.
his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.
and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—
he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.
kalim al-asim
kalim is always smiling.
he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.
but when he sees you hurt?
his entire world stops.
“oh no, oh no—”
the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.
his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.
“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”
his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.
and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.
“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”
guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.
“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”
his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.
and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.
“kalim, are you—”
“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”
his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”
if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.
if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?
he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.
“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”
and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—
he still won’t stop fussing.
“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”
“kalim, i’m fine—”
“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”
his fingers squeeze yours.
and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—
he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.
“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”
his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.
“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”
jamil viper
jamil was raised to handle crises.
he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.
so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—
his stomach drops.
but his body moves on instinct.
“where?”
his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.
“how bad is it? let me see.”
he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.
his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.
“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”
and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—
something inside him snaps.
his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.
“who.”
his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.
“who did this?”
if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.
but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.
“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.
if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.
“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”
because he will.
and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—
then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.
“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”
but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.
because if something had happened—if things had been worse—
he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.
vil schoenheit
perfection is vil’s standard.
not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.
but then he sees you hurt.
and something inside him fractures.
his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.
“where are you hurt?”
his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—
they burn.
he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.
“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”
you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.
“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”
his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.
he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.
“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”
but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.
vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.
he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.
but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.
“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”
his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.
and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.
“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.
and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.
“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”
his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.
because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—
then they will regret ever daring to touch you.
idia shroud
idia doesn’t do well under pressure.
he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.
so when he sees you hurt—
his mind shuts down.
for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.
no, no, no, no, no—
his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?
what if he loses you?
his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.
because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.
he remembers the first time. the real first time.
losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—
he still remembers.
remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.
and now—
now it’s you.
you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.
“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”
he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.
“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”
his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.
“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.
“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”
his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.
“i’m okay.”
he stops.
his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.
”…are you sure?”
his voice is so small. so uncertain.
because he’s already lost someone before.
and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—
he doesn’t know what he would do.
even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.
so he does what he knows best—
“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”
his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.
and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—
his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.
“never scare me like that again, okay?”
his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.
because he won’t lose you too.
he can’t.
malleus draconia
malleus has lived longer than most.
a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.
but then he sees you hurt.
and the entire world stands still.
his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.
his first instinct is not panic.
it is rage.
“who did this?”
his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.
his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.
his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.
but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.
because you come first.
he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.
“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.
his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.
“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.
if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—
his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.
“do not shield them from me.”
he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.
but first—
“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.
a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.
“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.
but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—
his mind is already elsewhere.
because someone hurt you.
and for that, there will be consequences.
malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.
but the guilty party will know fear.
“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”
and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.
because someone has made a grave mistake.
and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.
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☆彡 in which professor crewel judges your relationship with the NRC boys
nrc boys x reader (minus ortho)
word counter: 4.8K (200+ per character)
tags: reader is prefect, crewel is your father figure, established relationship, possible ooc
a/n: oh this was by far my most requested work. people wanted father crewel!! i held off on writing this for a while because i felt like i had such a weak grasp on his character. i did my research for this but sorry if my interpretation is off. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy :>
ace trappola
Very against this. It's just one bad influence after another with you, isn't it? First Grim, now this guy. You attract the absolute worst pups, don’t you? You’re lucky you’re his favorite. That’s not stopping Crewel from being crazy strict with both of you though. Expect to get seated across the classroom from your boyfriend. There are plenty of well-behaved puppies in the litter, why are you settling for one who barely knows how to sit? Ace and Crewel are NOT getting along. It’ll take Ace trying to improve himself (i.e. not getting in as much trouble) for Crewel to start being more accepting of him as your boyfriend. If he sees Ace attempting to be a better student, he's more than happy to start extending some grace. He isn’t that cruel… And then Crewel finds out that Ace cheated on a few tests and he’ll get detention for weeks. In detention Crewel is going to make him write a 12 page essay about his bad behavior; standing over his shoulder the whole time as Ace writes this. He'll crack his whip against the boy’s desk if he slows down while writing… Yeah. So much for not being cruel. These two are going to be bickering CONSTANTLY. With time, they’ll mellow out and their arguments will get more playful. (i’m imagining it like Meemaw and George from Young Sheldon) But don't expect him to stop punishing him. It's what bad pups get after all.
deuce spade
Believes you two are adorable together! You two puppies can bounce off and learn from each other. He’ll push Deuce to follow your example, especially if your grades are better than his. He is an educator above all else and takes his position very seriously. Though, as your self-proclaimed father figure, he will be watching Deuce closely. Yes, the pup is good intentioned. But he also has a tendency to get in trouble and still has a long road ahead of him. Crewel will be getting more strict with Deuce, but it isn't as strict as he is with Ace. He's more willing to let some of Deuce's mistakes slide because he sees that he genuinely wants to be better. But those mistakes are in terms of academics. If he makes mistakes in your relationship? Oh that pup is getting whooped. No questions asked. Crewel will not tolerate him hurting you and he has made that very, very clear to Deuce who accidentally got a closer look at the professor's whip. It's not that he thinks that Deuce will hurt you. He's just making sure. He sees it akin to putting a leash on a puppy as they play to make sure they don't get rowdy with the other dogs. Deuce is simply being kept in check by him. Perhaps under Crewel's watchful eye, he will shape up to be the perfect pup for you! He believes Deuce has the potential. It's just a matter of unlocking it.
cater diamond
He's fond of the boy. Makes sure Cater doesn't get away with using his phone in class. He'd hate for any bad influences to start coming your way, so he'll ensure that Cater is following the rules to the tee. He isn't afraid to take away or even break Cater's phone if the time calls for it. Crewel's actually been wanting to get to know Cater more since he's heard about his Magicam. The professor is acutely aware of the latest trends and what not but firmly believes that vintage looks just hit different. So, with Cater now being your boyfriend, he'll be more likely to come up to Cater and recommend him fashion brands that most young people probably wouldn't know about. He's going to start buying you two matching couple outfits, enjoying seeing both of you represent older luxury brands. In exchange, Cater will usually talk to Crewel about celebrity gossip or whatever's trending. This will all be heavily scrutinized by Crewel, but the professor just can't stop listening to what new gossip Cater has. He's open to hearing about student gossip too. Crewel is always open to learning more about his adorable pups and makes sure they aren't misbehaving. Cater becomes his news outlet of sorts. Honestly, Crewel is probably talking to your boyfriend more than you. You're still his favorite of course, he's as loyal as a German Shepherd. Cater is his just new gossip buddy.
trey clover
A fine choice, albeit boring in his opinion. Crewel enjoys a little flare, obviously. His curiosity will grow as to how your relationship happened and why you'd want to be with Trey. His attention will be on Trey more often. And being the astute teacher he is, he'll start to notice more and more... interesting comments that Trey lets slip. Crewel will definitely find out about that side of Trey which... he doesn't know how to feel about it. On one hand; flare! Yay! Now he understands his favorite little pup's relationship better. On the other... Trey is a rather bizarre man is he not? He thinks to himself; how did he ever think that Trey was a normal student? NRC has none of those, much to the teacher's dismay. He appreciates Trey's efforts to win him over though; leaving him little treats. It's like watching a dog bring back a bone, waiting for validation. He'll give it to the boy with due time. Though, Crewel would rather see him treat you nicely as opposed to Trey giving him gifts. He's obviously a well-trained pup, especially given his position as the vice-housewarden of Heartsbyul. Though, Crewel is hesitant to say any boy is worth your attention, he doesn't mind Trey and his tendency of spoiling you. It's what you deserve. Crewel really doesn't have any reservations about your relationship. He just has his suspicions on Trey as a person. Especially if you tell him about the teeth thing. Please don't tell him about the teeth thing.
riddle rosehearts
He appreciates you going for an obedient pup. Crewel hopes Riddle will push you to be more responsible, officially assigning him as your partner in all the classes you have together. The professor also asks him to be your tutor after seeing how well you work together. Academically speaking, Crewel believes Riddle is a good pup. However, he wants to make sure you're being treated like royalty in your relationship and isn't afraid to make vague threats to scare the boy a little. He'll say things around Riddle like, "Hm. It's been quite a while since you and the Prefect have gone on a date, hasn't it?" While not so subtly cracking his whip. Fear is one of the best motivators and best believe Riddle instantly took you on a date after that incident. They have mutual respect for one another as they're both sticklers for the rules. Riddle is just a bit... intimidated at times by his professor. But it's all smooth sailing. Crewel just reminds Riddle of the consequences of treating you poorly. A lot. The housewarden is unnerved but uses it as an opportunity to better himself, earning some brownie points in Crewels book. He's always had a soft spot for obedient puppies.
jack howl
Crewel's intensity really gets to him sometimes. He knows it's bad but whenever Crewel's around Jack starts to overthink. "Why is he looking at me like that... What if I did something wrong? What punishment will I have to face?" In reality, Crewel likes Jack. He thinks you picked the cutest little pup ever. Partly because Jack is a wolf beastman with dog-like features. But Crewel also recognizes Jack's grit. He's actually quite charitable when it comes to complimenting him. During class, Crewel will correct and check up on Jack quite a lot. The beastman takes this as his Crewel not thinking he's good enough for you. But in reality it's quite the opposite. Crewel just genuinely enjoys teaching things to Jack. He approves of the relationship, believing you've chosen a well-rounded dog. Strong, reliable, a rule-follower— it appears you've finally gained a good companion. However, as time goes by, Jack can't stand the thought of Crewel not thinking he's well suited for you. Soon enough, he goes to the teacher and spills his guts, saying that he knows he's not perfect but he's trying really hard to be the man you need. Crewel laughs, patting him on the head. "Oh, you silly little pup. You already have my approval." Jack is shocked to hear this, but it does make him happy to hear. All the more reason to be devoted to you in Jack's mind.
ruggie bucchi
He's not fond of troublemakers— a well known fact. So, Ruggie tries to be more subtle with his mischief once he finds out that Crewel's protective over you. As much as he'd like to stick it to the man, Ruggie quite enjoys his life and would rather not play with fire. But Crewel catches on. He always does. And oh boy, he finds Ruggie's under the table misbehavior to be anything but tasteful. His whip is going to be put to good use. Ruggie gets mortified and starts skipping class, making the whole situation worse. You're probably going to have to be the middleman for these two and make sure nothing goes overboard. Needless to say, Crewel is not fond of Ruggie. However, the teacher respects his work ethic. That boy is always on the job, looking to get extra cash. There's potential in Ruggie and Crewel is going to find it. Meaning that he's going to bug you for more information about your boyfriend before pulling him aside and having a genuine talk with the pup. After the talk, they seem on good terms, with Crewel even complimenting Ruggie from time to time! Yay! Little do you know that he's constantly threatening your boyfriend with the whip.
leona kingscholar
He hardly sees the appeal of a lazy cat who sleeps his days away. Leona is hardly in class so Crewel can't even punish him. He'll have a stern talking with you, telling you not to settle for anything you don't deserve. Once you explain that, "Oh no, Leona treats me very well." and maybe throwing in a, "He lets me use his credit card." for good measure, Crewel will be more open to the idea of you two dating. He could always sense that Leona had that side to him, but he absolutely despises his laziness. He'll try to get you to convince the beastman to come to class more often. Crewel starts threatening to punish you if your boyfriend continues to skip. After all, your boyfriend is an extension of you. And if you're boyfriends being a bad pup, then you are too. So basically you're begging Leona to start to come to class again because Crewel does not play when it comes to punishments. Crewel is not holding back any punishments once Leona starts attending classes more. It's extremely frustrating for Crewel— seeing untapped potential in Leona. He doesn't tolerate this pups behavior, but he genuinely wants to see him be better and decides to talk to him after class. Leona is surprised when Crewel isn't being too preachy and instead talks about how he wants to make sure you're being treated right. It kinda pisses the beastman off that his professor thinks he'd ever treat you wrong in the first place, but it does give him some newfound motivation. The two eventually grow to have a mutual respect relationship on the basis that they both want you to be happy. Though, Crewel still thinks dogs are better than cats. And frankly, this extends to your boyfriend. Sorry not sorry.
floyd leech
What spell does this leech have you under!? In what world would he EVER let you date this monster of a man!? This love is forbidden! Crewel will go full Romeo and Juliet style when restricting you two because he is NOT letting you date Floyd! Nope! Not if he has a say in it! Going on a date tonight? Too bad, he's assigning both of you extra homework that must be completed ON YOUR OWN. Floyd dislikes him right back, always complaining to you how Crewel's no fun. Floyd is one of the biggest troublemakers on campus, right next to Grim. Arguably worst. Floyd is going to get really upset about Crewel's attitude about it and, to your horror, he confronts the professor about it shamelessly. RIP your boyfriend. That poor guy is NOT making it out alive. If you make the mistake of asking Crewel why he doesn't like Floyd, oh that man will go on a tangent. He will be talking for HOURS. I don't see this relationship improving either. Floyd has no intention of changing ever; very content with how he is. If anything, he's making it worse by talking back and throwing tantrums. And it's probably going to be your job to calm him down because Azul and Jade do not wanna deal with allat. Have fun!
jade leech
Unsettled to say the least. He swears up and down that the pup is plotting something. Unfortunately Sam tells him he's overthinking it. He will be sitting you two away from each other... A part of Crewel genuinely wants to get to know him and how this relationship flourished. A louder part of Crewel wants to get you the hell away from this pup because he's scheming SOMETHING he can sense it. All their interactions are going to be the most tense thing ever. Like, both of them are going to be staring at one another with the most strained smiles in the universe. As Jade passes by Crewel's desk with his up-to-no-good smile, I can picture him saying, "Is something the matter, professor?" And then Crewel hitting him back with an equally as devious grin. "Nothing that concerns you, my pup." And then they'll proceed to have a staring contest until you inevitably drag your boyfriend away. Hey, at least Crewel is outright disapproving or hostile to your boyfriend? But he does give you several warnings to watch Jade closely. Because no one should like mushrooms that much. It's suspicious. Crewel is definitely paranoid and probably has a bunch of conspiracy theories on Jade but he never really disapproves of the relationship. A win is a win?
azul ashengrotto
As mean as this sounds, Crewel can sense his insecurity. He's just learned how to pick up on those kind of things after being a teacher. And Azul reeks of hidden insecurity to the professor. He doesn't go any easier on him— he'd be damned if he let any of his puppies step out of line. But he's much more open to be complimentary, especially since you're dating Azul. He'll encourage Azul to spend more time with him after class for studies in order to give him pep talks. If Azul was good enough to catch your eye, then Crewel assures him that he doesn't need to put on this whole 'business' facade to win anyones favor. Azul is definitely stunned to receive this kind of talk from his teacher, but decides to take his advice to heart because he really does love you. Crewel doesn't tell you any of this. Whenever you talk about your boyfriend he kinda just nods along and goes, "That's nice, honey." But in actuality, he smiles to himself after hearing that Azul's been coming out of his shell more. Or— in his case pot. He's no love expert, but he goes soft when he hears that his students are genuinely improving.
kalim al asim
Okay. Get that money. Crewel respects the grind; going for the richest kid on campus. But he isn't a fan of how reliant Kalim is on Jamil in terms of academics. And now that he knows that Kalim is your partner, he'll be harsher on the boy. Crewel doesn't want you hanging out with non-scholars! You deserve a very intelligent boyfriend who can at least get a B average. So he pushes to see Kalim more after class without his attendant, claiming that he needs to learn how to be independent. Kalim obviously struggles with this a bit due to his upbringing, but is willing to take the challenge! Especially if it's to win the respect of your father-like figure! He's really sweet and does try hard... but it doesn't garner much results much to Crewel's dismay. Nonetheless, Kalim does in fact show the grit that was needed in order for Crewel to approve of your relationship. Though, he does insists that Kalim continues to come after class on his own. Maybe you could tag along and help him. Because somethings that boy just doesn't get, no matter how hard Crewel tries. The professor can't help but smile when he sees how lovesick Kalim is over you. He'll watch from afar as you two puppies hug each other in the halls. If you accidentally make eye contact with him, Crewel will give you a small, approving nod.
jamil viper
Crewel has had his eye on Jamil before the two of you started dating. He could tell that the pup held himself back. For what reason, Crewel couldn't say but once he heard the news about you two, he definitely used it as an excuse to get to know Jamil more. He'll watch how Jamil acts around you, the way he relaxes and becomes more snarky. Crewel finds himself liking this version of Jamil more than the quiet, blend in the crowd guy that he presents himself as to the professor. So, Crewel decides to force him out of it. He'll push him, purposely grading his papers harder so that he'll have to put in more effort. Crewel knows that Jamil is capable of 'A' papers despite only turning in 'C' level work. His solution? He makes it so that, in order to get a 'C', Jamil has to turn in 'A' level work. Call it unfair, but it works. Jamil does get frustrated and rants about it to you. As hard as he tries to bite his tongue, he'll eventually let something slip on accident to Crewel. Now, Crewel hates disrespect. But he knows he purposely pushed the pup to see this side— the true side. He'll tell Jamil that being fake doesn't suit him. So, Jamil drops the act. He isn't stupid, Crewel is basically your father and he isn't trying to get on any of your family's (blood related or not) bad side. And it turns out to be for the better as they actually develop a nice bond with Jamil being more himself. Some puppies just need to be pushed out of their crate.
epel felmier
Crewel is happy to hear you're dating a Pomfiore student! He'd like his son-in-law to be fashionable. Then he hears that it's Epel and he's mildly disappointed. Listen, he genuinely cares for his students so he pays attention. And he's heard Epel slip out his native tongue underneath his breath. He's seen the boy rough play with Ace and Deuce. He knows that this pup is different from the other Pomfiore students. That's why he also gets frustrated when Epel tries to maintain this fake act with Crewel. "Good pups don't play pretend when it isn't asked of them. Drop this act. That's an order." This, naturally, freaks Epel out a bit. The country boy is a bit ashamed to be himself around Crewel since he really wanted to appease him due to your father-like bond with him. But he isn't going to disobey— Epel has seen Crewel's punishments, he's not taking his chances. Although Crewel isn't the biggest fan of Epel's southern charm, he appreciates the pup being his real self around him. Is he good enough to date you? Not in Crewel's book, no. But he'll allow it. Epel knows what the punishments are if he breaks your heart anyways.
rook hunt
What compelled you to want to date this man? Crewel doesn't understand your taste. Rook starts leaving clothing and jewelry from luxury brands that Crewel loves on his desk. The professor has very mixed feelings about this. 1. How did Rook find out what brands he's partial to? Should he be concerned about this? Because he's getting concerned. 2. Crewel doesn't like the idea of being bought over. No matter how much he enjoys the gifts. Because he wants your love to be genuine. Crewel wants to see proof that Rook is treating you right, not another luxurious coat that he'll definitely be wearing later down the line. He takes the fact that Rook thinks he can be bought over as an insult and pulls him aside after class, giving the pup a stern talking to. "Non non! I simply gifted it because it reminded me of you, professor! These have nothing to do with my devotion toward the Prefect." Crewel smells bs and does NOT tolerate that. He'll punish Rook by having him clean the alchemy tools after the freshman class since that class was notorious for leaving behind a mess. Rook knew what he was doing. His hand holds yours tighter and he smiles as you two pass by Crewel, with Rook catching a glimpse of the professor wearing one of the necklaces Rook gifted him. You just sigh because there's no way of controlling this man. His audacity knows no bounds.
vil schoenheit
Oh, Crewel is living for this. Vil might just be the one student he fully approves of, 100%. You dating one of the top alchemy students who is also an actor and model with the best sense of fashion in the entire school? Now that's a good puppy! Crewel almost wants to buy both of you treats with how over the moon he is. Vil, ever so charming, easily woos Crewel over by showing him how caring and compassionate he is towards you while also maintaining good grades and fixing your clothes. The professor smiles wide as he asks you, "How's your boyfriend doing?" And he listens happily as you tell him about the super romantic date that Vil took you on. Vil also seeks Crewel out for opinions on different outfits he plans on wearing to his modeling shoots. Crewel is more than happy to give his two cents. All the alchemy students have Vil to thank for the professor being in such a good, less snappy mood. He's not any less strict on them, but he compliments their work much more as he thrills over the fact that his little puppy is dating the perfect student. There's nothing more pure than puppy love, and he sees it written on Vil's face whenever he's around you.
idia shroud
You're dating the recluse? Now how did that happen? Crewel rarely sees Idia so he hasn't exactly seen how the two of you interact. He urges and bugs you to get your boyfriend to show up to his class. Cause Crewel only has a faint idea of what he's like. And once he does get familiar with Idia... Oh... Oh, puppy, why? Why him? Not exactly the type Crewel would've gone for at all. He'll definitely have to punish Idia a few times. Partly because of his horrendous attendance. Partly because he's heard him say a few sly comments under his breath. But mainly so he'll know the consequences of hurting you. Idia is beyond TERRIFIED of this man. Why does he keep calling him a 'pup'?! WHY DOES HE HAVE A WHIP?! And his fears are justified when Crewel punishes him. Idia will let out a loud sigh as he snuggles against you. "Out of all the staff members to be your fatherly figure... Did it have to be him?" Which is pretty funny because you're pretty sure you've heard Crewel complain, "Out of all the students... you chose him?" Looks like they've got some similarities. Just don't expect Idia to be striking up conversation with Crewel ever. Same goes with Crewel. They just pretend that the other doesn't exist and move on with their days.
sebek zigvolt
Oh, Crewel knows who Sebek is. That pup has a lot to learn. Especially when it comes to controlling his volume. Crewel uses the fact that you're dating him to teach him a lesson. "If you yell a single time in my class again this week, I will have your relationship with the Prefect ended. That is a guarantee." It's not a guarantee since Crewel knows he can't really control you, but he says it to keep Sebek in check. And it works. Nobody knew he could stay that silent for that long. Crewel was pleased with the progress, giving him a pat on the head with a small, "Good pup!" Oh, and Crewel is especially satisfied when Trein comes to complain to him that Sebek's been extremely loud in his class as of late. Crewel shrugs, claiming that he's been nothing but the most obedient dog in his class. "Maybe it's a teaching problem regarding you?" Trein wanted to strangle him when he said that. Crewel found it extremely amusing. The professor honestly thanks you for dating Sebek because this is the most fun he's had in a while. You're just glad that Sebek got Crewel's mark of approval. Because you know he would've been crushed if he didn't.
silver
He isn't a fan of the boy who's always sleeping. Crewel becomes even harsher when he hears the two of you are dating. It's hard for Silver so eventually the student comes to him explaining his condition. The professor is much more understanding after that. He actually tries really hard to help Silver, probably dragging you along as well. He'll have you stay after class for some parent-kid (blood related or not, you are literally his child) bonding while making a potion. Crewel will make dozens of potions, giving each one to you so you can pass it along to your boyfriend. None of them really make his condition go away fully of course, but it definitely helps as he's able to stay awake in class. Silver is extremely thankful for the help from Crewel, making it a point to express his gratitude nearly every time he sees him. With Silver awake more often, Crewel's able to witness the knightly way in which he treats you. Spoiler alert; he loves it. Yes! Live out your fairytale dreams, puppy! Crewel's convinced that Silver was a medieval knight in a previous life. He also offhandedly mentions that Silver should start modeling because that pup is GORGEOUS. (I'm biased because have you seen his eyes!?)
lilia vanrouge
Sure. He's cute.... Wait he's how old? Crewel is NOT approving when he finds out that Lilia is probably older than him. It's funny because Crewel starts to talk to Lilia more like he's a staff member than a student. And Lilia happily goes along with it. It's such a switch when he talks to you and then your boyfriend. "Hello, pup. I'm glad to hear you had a good day. How's your alchemy project coming along?... Oh, Lilia. How's the mortgage." "Quite well, professor. How's the wife? Wait, sorry, I forgot— you don't have one." Yeah, he hates your boyfriend actually. May or may not attempt to set you up with someone else. Only for the person that Crewel sets you up with to be Lilia catfishing as someone else. "Khee hee~ The internet these days is crazy, isn't it?" If you look closely you could probably see steam coming out from Crewel's head. The professor will make it a point to constantly tell you that your boyfriend is the worst. He doesn't even consider him a pup in the litter. He's a rodent who somehow snuck into the box. A rodent that you adopted much to Crewel's dismay.
malleus draconia
Since it was well known that Crewel was your father like figure, Malleus actually made it a point to go to him and declare his love for you. It kinda catches the professor off guard. One minute he's just grading papers. The next some fae pup busts through the door and starts spouting Shakespeare style how much he loves Crewel's unofficial adopted child. Crewel is left speechless by the time Malleus done, barely even registering all that he just spouted. "... You have my approval?" Heavy on the question mark. Crewel might've had no idea what Malleus said, but if he willingly went on a 30 or so minute tangent about how much he loved you— he probably loves you a lot. And Crewel doesn't regret it as he watches the two of you bond like you're in your own little world. He'll start being more open about approaching Malleus, suggesting small tweaks to Diasomnia's dorm uniforms. Your boyfriend agrees with the biggest smile and implants the suggestion right away, loving the fact that he has the favor of your father figure. Crewel likes to watch the two of you from a far and muses how the most unlikely creatures from completely different worlds can still fall deep into puppy love. The universe works in funny ways, doesn't it?
the thing was, she wasn’t going to be able to pass the recertification exam, and she couldn’t figure out why. annabelle studied. she practiced. she pulled out every trick and shortcut she’d learned during her two years as an EMT and none of it worked. she just – she didn’t get it. it made no sense.
“wake up,” she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. “come on. what the fuck.”
“yeah, i don’t think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,” hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one they’d decorated for him with craft supplies from michael’s when he’d gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. “i can see now why they didn’t pass you.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “it’s a psychological thing,” she said. “it’s like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i don’t know why it’s not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god it’s worked for me every time.”
it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadn’t ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.
but none of that would matter if she couldn’t pass her stupid recertification exam, because they’d take her badge and she’d have to go be, like, a doctor or something.
hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when you’d saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.
“look, AB. i know you’re a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. you’re overthinking it.”
“but this is what i do during an emergency!” annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. “i put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!”
hank blinked. “…really,” he said, voice flat. “people who’ve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just … get up and walk.”
“the brain is an incredibly powerful organ,” said annabelle, shrugging. “look man, i don’t know, okay? but it works. i haven’t had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.”
he gave her a long, quiet look and said, “well….huh,” before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. “keep practicing,” he said after a minute, and left her there.
-
hank switched her team.
“what the fuck, man,” she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. “i can’t get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you don’t trust me to do my job without supervision?”
carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, “look, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.”
“thank christ,” said carl. “i’ve been really worried about jen.”
hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said i’m your dad and you don’t want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.
“i trust you completely,” hank told her, his voice a light scold. “i want to see you in action so i can help you figure out what’s going wrong with the dummies. sometimes it’s hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “i told you,” she said. “it’s just – it’s the same thing every time, I’m not like, blacking out.”
“great, then i’m about to learn a cool new trick,” hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didn’t remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.
there wasn’t a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse.
hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin.
she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, “let’s go, man. up and at ’em. you’re not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.”
she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hank’s eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. “what the fuck?” he asked, voice a croak. “what happened?”
“you gotta eat more vegetables, bud,” annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hank’s eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. “let’s get you to the ambulance.”
-
“the bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,” hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didn’t think she’d ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. “the good news is i understand your problem now.”
annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. “what problem?” she demanded. “it worked! you saw it work. that’s the opposite of a problem.”
hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that he’d clearly printed off at home. it said so you think you’re a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. “i … don’t understand what’s happening here,” she told him honestly.
“i’m not in the community and they’re kind of cagey, so i can’t really tell you a lot,” hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. “but i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. you’re still who you’ve always been and you have my complete support. we’ll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe i’ll – i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. we’ll say it’s because of an injury.”
“hank,” annabelle said, with some urgency. “hank, this flier says the word necromancer.”
“yes,” agreed hank, looking relieved. “oh, good, you’ve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.”
annabelle shook her head. “no, i – hank. you know that … um, you know that necromancy isn’t real, right? people can’t bring other people back from the dead. that’s crazy.”
“annabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.”
“okay, he wasn’t dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.”
“no. he was dead.”
“i felt his pulse! it was very faint!”
“you called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasn’t there except in response to you.”
“hank, what the fuck.”
he shrugged. “read the flier,” he instructed. “and bring dierdre home with you. you’re going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you haven’t one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.”
he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyone’s necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?
annabelle looked at her kitchen table. she’d had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase.
“well shit,” annabelle said, letting the flier fall from her hands.
Tumblerians tumblrites and tumblers, all and alike make writing and art prompts out of things that weren’t meant to be and that is a beauty beyond compare. Thank you members of tumblr for the amazing stories and art and for sharing it with the small world that is this website.
just because someone is your favorite character doesnt mean theyd have the same moral alignment as you. wheatley from portal wouldnt say "my pronouns are he/him, thank you for asking!" hed say "what uhh. what does that mean. um. you mean the nouns im most "pro" at is that what youre saying? i like to think im pretty pro,, at all nouns really. umm lets see... apple, kazoo, bubble, happy, door, umm... cake. not too fond of cake really i think its alright but. not my Favorite. if it were up to me though id eat a whole cake in one sitting. if i were a human. not a human, clearly. also not sure if id, know what cake even tastes like. if i tried it. no tastebuds. no Mouth... no. hole. anywhere on my body. haha um,, well anyways id. id say im pretty Pro Nouns. dont see why anyone wouldnt be... what? you mean what i Go By? what do you. ohhhh. ummm. the male ones. the male pronouns. if i can remember what they are... definitely the ones for guys. manly men. like me. pretty sure im a man,,," and you need to accept this
The tags are all great here but this one made me look at it for a couple seconds. I don’t recall jesus being born an adult im very certain he was also a baby at some point
bringin' back my gen 3 pokezodiac thru september 15th ~
AND if ya buy 2 archival prints from my sale section i'll include a FREE 12x16 gen 3 pokezodiac print of your choice !
just email me your order # and the pokezodiac print you'd like ~ bonus i'll lower the risk of damaging archival prints when i move lol
I worked in IT at a private school for a grip, and the fifth grade boys got busted for using a shared google doc named "da chat" to get around the restrictions on messaging platforms almost a decade ago.
Kids. Kids never change
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