Few people have the imagination for reality

Today is Chinese New Year's Eve. Tomorrow will be the new year. I wish everyone a happy and prosperous Year of the Horse.

Some thoughts on all v in Bopunk

Give me a like, I'll do anything—please!

  (Rambling: Wrote this ages ago, but it kept getting rejected on Old Ford, haha. Saw it while writing something else today and figured I'd post it. Still just some ideas—I'm honestly too lazy to write sometimes. If it gets rejected again, I'll bite someone.)

  Includes (Silver V, Wei V, Takemura V)

  Silver has a physical body. Apologies for OOC, and this is super poorly written.

  Might get written, might not.

  So freaking terrifying!

  Silver v

  ①v just closed a big deal, made a killing, and got dead drunk at Reishou. Ran into this hot, busty babe with a neutral gender preference. She took a liking to V, they exchanged contacts, and made plans to see Blue Moon's concert. V completely forgot the 11:30 PM promise to Johnny, stumbling home drunk well past midnight. Upon arrival, Johnny sat on the couch like a bitter wife, cigarette dangling from his mouth, ranting about why V was so late. Seeing the ashtray beside Johnny overflowing with cigarette butts, V's anger flared. Fueled by alcohol, he stumbled toward Johnny but, weakened by drunkenness, ended up crashing into Johnny's arms instead. Johnny tossed him onto the bed, and they began making love. Just as Johnny reached the peak of passion, a selfie from the busty beauty V had met earlier popped up on his phone, asking if she looked good in the outfit she was wearing. V was mostly sober by then. Seeing the message, he tried to cover it up, but Johnny spotted the text about going to the Blue Moon concert with the girl. Cruelly, Johnny made V call the beauty while they had sex, then suddenly thrust deep inside... After hanging up, Johnny fucked him even harder. V climaxed immediately. Johnny demanded, “If I sing so badly, why did you go to someone else's concert?” He fucked V so hard he couldn't get out of bed the next day, forcing them to cancel the Blue Moon concert...

  ② (Still Silver V) Abo worldview: Johnny is Alpha, V is Beta (the strongest Beta in this universe). Johnny and V lived together normally until V traveled to the afterlife to discuss new business with Rog. Rog pointed out V reeked of Johnny's hostile scent, though V remained oblivious (think a giant dog rubbing its scent all over you to claim ownership). Following Takemura's advice, V used a high-end pheromone perfume made by Araita (Araita makes this too??) (Takemura gave it to him) (I want to see the shuraba). But V couldn't smell it, so he sprayed a lot. When Johnny came home and smelled the unfamiliar scent all over V, he went berserk, releasing his own pheromones and demanding why V was covering it up (V couldn't smell it!). Then he pinned V against the wall, coating him in his scent... Filled her insides completely (Wow, I kinda wanted to write pregnancy play too)

  ③V went to Twist Street to discuss business with Wakako. On the way back, she spotted a vendor selling black Mewtwo. Overwhelmed by curiosity, she bought one to take home. After installing it, she discovered it was a hypnotic Mewtwo—but she’d already fallen under its spell. She started doing some pretty scandalous things (like masturbating with a vibrator), Johnny, fresh from his concert, gets pinned to the floor the moment he gets home. V pulls down Johnny's pants and straddles his cock, grinding. The next day, nursing a sore back, Johnny tracks down the black Mewtwo dealer to confront him, only to find it's already vanished... (Inspiration: V dared to put a black Mewtwo mask he found on the street straight over his head, only to get stripped naked)

  Takemura V

  ① Takemura x Little Mouse V After a grueling day handling work on the deserted board and facing a flood of assignments, Takemura worked overtime until midnight. Exhausted, he returned home thinking of the sandwich he'd made that morning. Upon entering the kitchen, he found V bent over, stealing food from his fridge. The sandwich was already in his belly, and V cheekily asked, “Any more?” “It was so delicious I accidentally finished it all!” Seeing v was too adorable to resist, Takemura decided to eat v instead. He dragged v to bed and gave them a good 》》. The next morning, while v was still asleep, he made double the sandwiches.

  ② Takemura x Succubus V: As a super-straight-laced young man working diligently from 6 AM to 8 PM with zero sex life, he was targeted by the starving little succubus V. One night, V sneaked into Takemura's bed to drain his essence, intending to milk him dry. Unexpectedly, Takemura pinned V down and fucked him all night long, milking himself dry and shooting every drop inside V. (Result: V found a long-term meal ticket. Takemura, unsurprisingly, was late for the first time.)

  Wei V (I absolutely adore Old Wei! As an uncle-lover, I can't resist the charm of such a mature, steady older man)

  ① On a warm afternoon, sipping tea with Old Wei. V drinks coffee sent as a thank-you gift by Wei's patient while reading boxing news, interspersed with a scandalous entertainment story about a celebrity. about some celebrity boasting four girlfriends while suffering from erectile dysfunction. V teased Old Wei about his age, suggesting the cybernetic surgeon should get himself a cybernetic enhancement (a big steel cannon, hahaha). Old Wei promptly pinned V to the chair, personally demonstrating a middle-aged man's pride. (Tsk tsk tsk)

  ② Sneaking drinks behind Old Wei's back, V passed out drunk on the sidewalk. A not-so-kind passerby (who stole V's wallet) called the first emergency contact. Old Wei (Dad!) arrived as the primary contact. He finds V drunk and clinging to him, takes him to the clinic, brews a hangover cure, and when V wakes up, tries to sneak out of Old Wei's basement clinic only to discover his clothes are gone—washed. Old Wei corners him for adult punishment, brutally penetrating his ass with a wine bottle... Anyway, after that, V's shady friends notice V avoids alcohol like the plague, but why won't V say anything?

  ③ Wei and V moved in together. One morning, Wei woke up to find the person beside him had turned into a fluffy little kitten under the covers—a rare occurrence indeed. Wei got V from Misty, but being too lazy to feed the kitten, he had Misty bring cat food. Yet the picky little V-kitten only wanted the fried eggs from Old Wei's plate. Old Wei's patients were baffled where he'd found such a peculiar creature—referring to the furry V. The little V-kitten prowled among the precision instruments, pawing at this, fiddling with that. Confident Old Wei wouldn't scold him, he strutted about causing mischief, using Old Wei's pants as a scratching post, balling up his coat to hide inside, When thirsty, it drank from Lao Wei's cup, leaving it covered in fur. At night, it curled into a ball and burrowed into Lao Wei's embrace. By morning, it would shed its fur and return to its original form. Yet Lao Wei adored his kitten's appearance, so he bought numerous cat-ear and cat-tail accessories (cat-tail anal plugs). Forced back into its kitten persona on the bed,

I slightly changed the ending where Wilson finds out House isn’t dead and they run away together. I don’t like the tragic ending where one person dies alone in pain. I want a happy ending. I think Wilson is just too cute, and House is human too.

Give me a like, I'll do anything—please!

———Below is the main text———

“I hate you, House. You’re a complete bastard. Whenever you feel like it, you push away and mock the love from everyone who cares about you without a second thought. You will never, ever have a partner who truly loves you.” Wilson shouted. His hands were shaking, his whole body trembling. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from rage.

When Wilson learned that his lifelong best friend, his only friend, had been reduced to black char in that explosion, half his body blown to dust, never to be found. No one knew how long he stood in front of that burning house. The friend who had promised to face death with him had lied again, just like before, abandoned him without hesitation.

“What gives you the right to die so selfishly, so carelessly, leaving me here to live in pain alone?”

Tears streamed down Wilson’s face. He sat down. The leaping flames had died out, the surroundings slowly cooling, leaving only the lingering ash and the smell of burnt wood in the air. He felt so cold. He wanted to put on the coat he’d taken off, only to remember he’d long draped that expensive new lambskin coat he’d bought with House over House’s half-burned body.

“How stupid,” he muttered to himself.

Wilson slid down against the railing, sitting right where the beam had collapsed. The sound of fire truck sirens faded away, and the surrounding noise gradually died down. Wilson felt a part of his soul being torn from his body, dissipating.

He couldn’t understand how House could end his own life so easily, how he could make someone feel so desperate without effort. He thought House hated him. Even in his last five months, House had made him watch the flames devour his body. The second the fire-spewing beam crashed down, Wilson’s heart shattered.

He’d been in the deep ocean, forced to see a distant shore. When he swam for his life, House’s death hit like a giant wave, bringing him twice the misery.

He could never hate Dr. House. Even if House might have gotten Amber killed. If House had lowered his guard even once, shown his fragile side just one time, Wilson would have returned without hesitation to House’s thorny embrace.

As an oncologist, he knew better than anyone that his body would only become a breeding ground for tumors. He did not want to go gentle into that good night, but he was beyond saving. In his final days, he only wanted to spend the remaining months happily, unreservedly, with House.

But this fire, this cruel fire, this cruel man, had personally strangled his last bit of hope.

He pulled a stack of papers from his pants pocket and tore them to pieces over and over. It was their vacation plan. It had the pyramids of Egypt written on it—House had always wanted to see how mummies were made. And Australia, which he’d always wanted to visit. He wanted to watch House fight kangaroos freely.

Three years ago, he’d bet House three hundred dollars. Wilson had bet he would lose.

He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t an atheist. He didn’t believe death was endless nothingness and eternal sleep. But he couldn’t accept the death of his best friend, his own death. It wasn’t fair.

Together, he and House had saved more people than ninety-nine percent of the doctors in the world. Why them? He had done wrong things, but in House’s words, their combined contributions were enough to get a hundred praying losers into heaven.

“Too bad heaven probably wouldn’t take a bastard like you,” Wilson smiled. “You’d definitely be in hell bargaining with demons, trying to suffer less and scam some painkillers on the side.”

He had always tried to make House find passion for life again. This wasn’t just advice from a doctor—it was deep love for his best friend.

Before he got sick, he thought he understood House’s pain. He saw House moaning in agony every night and day from withdrawal, insulting and mocking every inch of the world and despising God to raise his spiritual flag, even resorting to self-harm to numb the emotional pain.

Countless times, his heart softened and he wanted to give him a painkiller, but he held back. All he could do was stay with him, listen to his endless, never-repeating curses.

But now that he felt this piercing pain himself, he had no idea how House had endured it. All he wanted now was a single bullet to escape the suffering. Just one, and he could go to House.

They had always been drifting apart, coming closer, then apart again. Somehow, he couldn’t. He would never be House. He couldn’t do something so crazy.

If he killed himself, that would just prove House was right—that in his rotten life, someone always took responsibility for him. He couldn’t spoil him forever.

He knew House was a terrible person, a complete scumbag. He was sharp-tongued and cruel, like fighting windmills in seventeenth-century armor. He flirted with prostitutes, abused drugs recklessly, deliberately mentioned a husband’s affair in front of his wife, talked openly about sleeping with him in front of his assistants, holding nothing back…

But were they lovers? No. Wilson pushed the thought away.

“Good boy…” He remembered the tenderness of that night. He’d liked how it felt, but they still weren’t lovers. They were just friends, or best friends. One step further—it was fate.

His head hurt. His chest hurt. Every inch of his body felt squeezed. The pain grew sharper. Wilson felt like he couldn’t breathe. He began to retch, bringing up a little stomach acid mixed with bright red blood.

He touched his abdomen. He didn’t know if it was just in his head, but he felt a four-centimeter lump inside. The scythe of death.

He didn’t know if the tumor was making him hurt this badly. Maybe it was God’s punishment—a little penalty for trying to redeem a high-IQ antisocial bastard. Too bad the penalty was too heavy for him. He was going to die.

“If I could go back, I never would have wanted to meet you.”

He thought about the piano he’d bought for House, the songs he played and his long fingers, and the electric guitar. It had been really expensive, but You Can’t Always Get What You Want sounded so good.

He remembered every email House had sent him, even the pranks. House would photoshop his genitals onto a late-stage lung cancer patient’s CT scan and send it to him to embarrass him at work.

He’d once replaced House’s painkillers with sugar pills, swapped the sugar in his coffee for antidepressants, lied that he didn’t like monster trucks when he was actually going on a date. But House always read his mind perfectly and retaliated by any means necessary.

Their bets always ended with Wilson losing, but Wilson didn’t mind. It made House stop acting like a seven-year-old.

Wilson’s vision blurred. Blood rushed to his head. Was this how it ended?

“Wouldn’t it be ironic if the best oncologist in the country collapsed in the dark like this?”

Wilson hallucinated. He saw House.

“I knew you’d mourn for me.”

“What?” Wilson looked up. House was wearing that expensive thousand-dollar lambskin coat he’d bought. “Honestly, I think you got the size wrong. You’ve put on quite a bit of weight over the years.”

“Wait…” Wilson held his head. “Wait… you’re House.”

He was trying to figure out if this was a hallucination. The splitting headache made it hard to think.

“You forget me while my bones are still warm? That hurts.”

“Who else knows about this? Foreman?” Wilson’s head felt like it was splitting.

“I don’t think he’s that stupid. Still, I can’t accept him stepping over me. It’s ridiculous. Cuddy took the entire board’s brain with her when she left.

And you, my friend—cancer has slowed your mind. Doesn’t matter. I’ll haunt you until I drag you to the grave.”

“What the hell are you trying to do? Make your friend watch you die and live in pain, then come back waltzing like nothing happened? What is this, a performance? To satisfy your sick need for control?”

Wilson was truly angry. He strode forward and grabbed House by the collar.

“I thought you were dead. I really did.” He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to slap that infuriating face.

“Legally, I am dead. I just needed an excuse to skip a six-month prison sentence. After all, without chemo, you’ll most likely be dead in five months. If I waited, I’d have to rob your grave to see you.”

House shrugged.

“Or did you want me to take your ashes to Egypt and let the mummies see what ‘not resting in peace’ looks like?”

He paused, pulled out his phone and waved it.

“Don’t worry, though. I transferred all my money to you—vacation fund. Don’t even think about keeping it for yourself. Every expense has to be reported to me.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You would’ve said no. You’d put on that angel face of yours, lecture me for hours, prove you’re a good person until the day you die, just like when I skipped work to go see monster trucks.

I don’t have three hours to listen to you nag. Your time is precious. Mine too.”

Wilson fell silent. He could be bitter and mean in his final days, just like House. But in front of his lifelong best friend, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

He slowly let go, sat on the stairs, and rubbed his temples.

“Still not doing chemo?”

“No.”

“Fine. Good thing I have a digital copy of the plan.”

“Digital copy? You actually had a backup?” Wilson raised an eyebrow. The anger in his chest hadn’t faded, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward against his will.

“I should’ve known you bastard always have a plan B. So I just tore up a bunch of useless paper?”

House rolled his eyes. The fur collar of the lambskin coat tickled his neck.

“Better than someone tearing paper like a rabid dog. Shakespeare said ‘what’s past is prologue.’ You almost tore our prologue to shreds.”

He paused, his tone not softening at all.

“Besides, I don’t trust your pathetic willpower. If you’d actually shot yourself, I’d have to complain at your tomb until dawn. I’d have to carve ‘World’s Most Sensitive Oncologist’ on your stone.”

“Please. You just don’t want to lose someone who cleans up your messes, someone who takes you to the ER when you overdose, someone who bets three hundred dollars you’ll get beaten up by a kangaroo.”

“Correction,” House said, picking up his cane and walking over. “It was a strategic retreat.

And don’t act like you’re irreplaceable. You’re just the least intolerable idiot I could find.”

House held out his hand to Wilson.

Wilson took it, pulling himself slowly to his feet. Both their hands were cold, but they gripped tightly, as if holding onto each other’s last salvation.

“Let’s go,” Wilson said. “But I’m driving. I don’t want to ride in a car with someone who just died. I’m afraid the cops will report me for riding with a ghost.”

One month later.

House rambled on about the mummy remains, complaining about how shoddily some of them were made.

“You’re lucky they can’t get up and argue with you. They’d turn you into a new mummy.”

“Then I’d drag you down with me. Let archaeologists dig us up someday and marvel at the joint tomb of the naggiest oncologist and the biggest bastard diagnostician in history, with a note: ‘Spent entire lives arguing over a three-hundred-dollar bet.’”

In the Australian grasslands, Wilson kept his bet. He actually found a wild kangaroo. He watched House throw a left hook—only to get punched right in the eye socket.

House saw stars instantly and fled in embarrassment. The three hundred dollars went straight into Wilson’s pocket.

“Fools think they’re wise; the wise know their limits,” Wilson laughed, waving the money. “Shakespeare didn’t lie. House, you’re the fool who thought he could beat a kangaroo.”

House ground his teeth. “Just wait. Next time I’ll bring tranquilizers and show this damn thing who’s boss.

And give me back the money. It’s my well-deserved bravery consolation prize. I tested the kangaroo’s strength for you.”

Wilson stuffed the money into his pocket.

“Not a chance. A bet’s a bet. You lost.”

At the four-month mark.

Wilson’s condition suddenly deteriorated one early morning. Severe abdominal pain curled him up in bed, cold sweat soaking his pajamas.

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to wake House in the next room. But when he rolled over, he accidentally knocked a glass off the nightstand. The sharp shatter instantly brought footsteps.

“What the hell?” House pushed open the bedroom door and saw Wilson curled into a ball.

“How long did you think you could hide this? Wilson, you’re an oncologist, not an actor. Even if you were, your acting is terrible—worse than the patients who fake sickness to scam painkillers from me.”

“It’s just… a little indigestion.” Wilson forced a smile.

House sneered, lifted his shirt, and looked at him. His face turned deadly pale.

“Indigestion? Do you take me for a three-year-old? Or do you think I’m blind and can’t see the tumor throwing a party?”

He turned, rummaged at the bottom of the suitcase, pulled out painkillers, and tossed two pills over. His voice held suppressed rage.

“Take them. Then tell me—how much longer do you want to hold on? Long enough to watch me win back that three hundred dollars another way?”

“You actually hid painkillers.”

“Shut up and take them.”

“I’m not doing chemo.” Wilson caught the pills and swallowed them, his voice hoarse but firm.

“House, I told you a long time ago. I’d rather be like this than lie in a hospital full of tubes, listening to you insult the nurses.”

“Like this?” House’s voice rose sharply. “Watch you hurt like a dog run over by a car and then die? Wilson, you’re the most stubborn idiot I’ve ever met!

To be or not to be—you chose the most pathetic way not to be!”

His eyes reddened, but he still spoke harshly.

“You think this is brave? It’s cowardice! You just don’t want to face the pain of treatment, don’t want me watching you rot away—and you get me to remember you forever. How selfish.”

“Maybe,” Wilson coughed. He squeezed House’s hand tightly, trembling slightly.

“I’d rather be with you. Somewhere without hospitals, without patients, without boards. Quietly finish my last journey.

House, this is my only request—don’t make me listen to you yell in a place that smells like disinfectant.”

House didn’t argue anymore. He just squeezed his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.

He did as Wilson wanted: rented a small seaside villa. Of course, he put it on Wilson’s bill—House was legally dead, after all.

It had white walls and a blue roof. Open the window, and you could smell the salt of the sea wind—even though House complained every day, “This place is nothing but wind and salt.”

Wilson grew weaker and weaker. Most of the time, he slept. When awake, he listened to House complain.

In his final days, pain consumed almost all of Wilson’s senses.

“I’m sorry, House…” Wilson breathed weakly.

“It’s okay,” House held his cold hand, his voice low and hoarse. He poured a handful of sleeping pills from the bottle on the nightstand, swallowed them with water, then held Wilson tightly.

“I’ll be with you, wherever we go. Even hell won’t be too boring with you nagging me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be in heaven?”

“Because you’d be too worried about me being alone in hell.”

This time, they didn’t drift apart. They didn’t draw closer. They didn’t fight.

The Sultan's Game

*Modern AU, set at Sultan University – completely fictional!! Since it’s an alternate universe, characters who never interact in the original game will cross paths here. There’s even a class called Magic, yes, really. I’ll also be adjusting some characters’ ages – for example, Rumela will be a teacher instead. I have tons of worldbuilding to cover since I want to expand the story, so sorry about that! If you want a sequel, follow and subscribe – this is probably what I’ll be working on for a while.

*Disclaimer: I write this in the middle of the night, half-delirious, and chug massive amounts of coffee, so I might sound like I’m on something. Don’t panic. Some sentences might be messy or have typos – please bear with me, and feel free to point them out in the comments!

*This is only a character profile. Read it if you’re interested; skip it if you’re not. I probably won’t post the first proper chapter until July, lol. But I promise it’ll be around 10,000 words.

Characters involved: Almost everyone, including even the NPCs from court sessions.

友情提示：我思想比较开放，道德标准也比较宽松，所以可能会发生一些奇怪的事情。。

*Also important: I’ll tweak some characters to make them more sympathetic… Take Nayila, for instance. I see her less as a villain and more as someone who never received normal love or respect, so she pursues power and affection in twisted ways – like killing people and stealing others’ husbands. In reality, her actions show she craves power, or equal rights, not just showing off her beauty from a position of superiority. The fact that she eventually killed her own husband proves she has a strong will.

Admittedly, she’s 偏执 and deeply misguided, wrongly believing that becoming the “top woman” and sleeping with all the men will earn her equal treatment. Her desire to be number one comes not only from jealousy but also from never feeling loved – she was treated like an object, never experiencing normal human connection. This warped her worldview.

Men saw her as a pretty rose in a vase, but roses have thorns that hurt. Under the “Sultan’s Game”, she’s repulsive – yet she lacks progressive ideas and doesn’t know how to resist properly, so she uses twisted methods to get what she wants.

In a modern setting, however, she’s a flower meant to bloom freely, not rot slowly in a bottle for display. She has a higher education and has read Patriarchy and Capitalism, so she understands how women should resist correctly. That’s the version of her I’m writing.

*In fact, almost every female character I write fights for women’s rights in some way and shines in her field. I guess that’s partly influenced by my sister. If you don’t like it, please leave and block me immediately – thank you.

*This fic includes but is not limited to: all-x-Tu, platonic relationships between the Four Guards, Rumela & Books & Fardal, etc. I want to give a happy future to everyone who’s unhappy but deserves happiness.

*I’m rambling so much in the intro because I actually am planning this many stories… (though can I really finish them all? Damn.)

Backstory: Hemir just survived the hell that is senior year of high school and is about to enroll as a new freshman at Sultan University.

Below are the character profiles:

Sultan

President of Sultan University. He dumps all his work on Artu and is currently looking to hire another vice president.

Artu

Professor of Political Science and Vice President of the university. The lazy President Sultan makes him do everything except sign documents, while he travels and enjoys himself.

Megi

Associate Professor of Philosophy, in charge of club activities. Students often confide in her due to her gentle and empathetic nature. She is Artu’s ex-wife – they ended their marriage amicably after she realized she didn’t love him, but they remain close friends.

Faraj

Artu’s teaching assistant and former student. Deeply charmed by Artu’s personality, he’s a loyal fan and… admirer. Extremely capable, making him the perfect person for Artu to bring to social events.

Bayleye

Associate Professor of Religious History. She follows a unique religion and possesses special, powerful magic. She leads a religious club with many devoted followers.

Nefele

Professor of Political Science. Strict yet caring toward students. She often suggests campus reforms to the president and pushes for changes. She constantly thinks about what students really need and consults many people.

Publicly, she often opposes Artu’s proposals – but secretly, she’s part of Artu’s faction. She owns a parrot that frequently insults Artu. Despite having little savings, she still finds ways to support promising students.

Zachiy

Freshman at Sultan University, Hemir’s roommate, majoring in Political Science.

Adile

Third-year student who finished all credits early and is taking a gap year as an extreme adventurer. She’s barely on campus except for exams, earning credits by hunting snow monsters.

She founded a Dragon-Slaying Club, but strangely, almost no one joins except Jubal, a second-year sports student. They’re sworn brothers and once hunted bigfoots and trolls in the Himalayas together.

Nebuhani

Fourth-year Fashion Design student. A total peacock. Member and top fighter of the university’s Swordsmanship Club. Loves attending college dances, then going to bars to drink and flirt.

Daily routine: classes, sword practice, bar-hopping. Always polite to women.

Jubal

Fourth-year sports student. Not good at studying, but great at weightlifting. His family has a military background, but he prefers adventure.

He joined Adile’s Dragon-Slaying Club and is confused why no one else comes. He greatly admires Adile’s strength and courage.

If he’s not at the gym, he’s on the way there – and if he’s not on the way, he’s exploring in the wilderness.

Seliman

Third-year student. Has the best grades in his dorm and finished all credits first. The most reliable dorm leader – but a total love addict.

He stays up late every night talking on the phone in the hallway. Childhood sweetheart with Sardani, whom he won over with a few small tricks. They’re now happily together.

Faris

Third-year Animal Science student. Obsessed with small animals. He keeps two dogs, Crescent and New Moon, in his dorm, walks them twice a day without fail.

Grew up in the countryside, so he’s close to animals, especially horses. He rents a place near campus to take care of stray dogs he rescues and is a member of the Animal Protection Club.

Jawad

Distinguished Professor of Economics. He owns his own company outside campus. Kuaijiao is his secretary and teaching assistant.

Though wealthy, he’s extremely stingy – but incredibly doting on his daughter, so much so that she takes a helicopter to high school.

Rael

Third-year student. Runs an off-campus women’s fight club and is a women’s rights advocate. Straightforward personality, bros with Professor Artu.

She often defends people being bullied off-campus, and Artu always bails her out. She’s a fierce fighter.

Gais

Head of the Law Department at Sultan University. Upright and unyielding. Rumor had it he once thought Artu was an unethical academic (a fake rumor spread by Abd to smear him), but he was won over by Artu’s charm and became his close friend and a firm defender of his faction.

Rumela

Professor at Sultan University, teaching Astrology and Star God History. Loves reading and is extremely well-read (said to have read obsessively as an adult after growing up poor with no books).

She spends all her free time in the campus library and often asks librarian Asar to find books for her. She has immense magic power and the highest wisdom stat in the entire university.

Her partner is Fardak – they’re already legally married, but Rumela loves books more, so poor Fardak is still patiently pursuing her.

Minar

Distinguished Professor of National Geography at Sultan University. She’s probably only on campus 50 days a year. She often explores uncharted territories and distant countries.

She’s reportedly in charge of Sultan University’s exchange program with a major eastern power.

Fardak

Son of a foreign company. His family arranged a marriage for him (with Rumela). Unwilling at first, he fell madly in love at first sight and began pursuing her crazily – but Rumela is too absorbed in books to notice.

Habib

Head chef at Sultan University’s cafeteria. His cooking is incredibly good – after he started working, the number of students ordering takeout plummeted.

He’s apparently pursuing a teacher on campus and often brings her sweet preserved fruits.

Nayila

Professor of Art. Flirtatious, but she will never abandon herself for empty love. She navigates social circles to fight for rights for herself and women everywhere.

Mischievous personality, but brilliant and passionate in her field.

Shama

Graduate student in Art Design, studying under Nayila. She has a bad relationship with her family and lives temporarily with Nayila.

A talented student Nayila thinks highly of. Influenced by Nayila, she fights for women’s rights alongside Rael and confronts her toxic family.

Sardani

Third-year student majoring in Art Design. Childhood sweetheart with Seliman. She once had a crush on President Sultan and tried to pursue him, but Seliman interfered and stopped her.

She’s now in a relationship with Seliman.

Shaji

PhD student in Finance, interning at Jawad’s company.

Hilshina

Prince of a highland ethnic group, majoring in Ethnic Studies at Sultan University. He often hangs out at bars and frequently sees Nebuhani flirting with girls there.

Alim

Even the boy with a tumor has drawings, but neither you nor I get any attention for our obscure posts—it's really sad. I'm really sorry that my drawings aren't good, but I truly like this kind of crazy, almost mentally ill personality—maybe it's because I’m that kind of person too.

In fact, my English is terrible, so I just put these tags because I'm afraid of making mistakes. I absolutely love Dr. House and Wilson; this couple is the most genuine and sweetest pair I've ever shipped, second only to Sherlock Holmes and Watson.I love

麦雷结婚线

一个简单的短打

Eurus健康快乐成长线

相信我这很ooc，不喜欢请千万不要硬赤我做的石

本文涉及【福华】【麦雷】

交往了（开始交往了吧应该吧）

以下是会出现的人物：Sherlock Juhn Eurus Mycroft Grey

Sherlock：Juhn，Rosie已经出生整整十二个月十五天，她刚才比平常哇哇叫的正常频率多了38%，鉴于你刚给她还完尿布并且已经3个小时零三十四分钟没有给他喂奶我推算出她饿了，但我刚才观察她眨眼的频率分现她居然完全不能用摩斯代码表达现在想要喝奶的想法，她只会叫Sherlock和爸爸就算了，她居然连最简单的摩斯密码还不会打。Juhn你现在必须开始孩子的教育了不然Rosie就会变成……一个极其普通的孩子（语重心长）

Juhn：她才一岁！！！你是想让她当特工吗，Sherlock，你一岁的时候在干什么？读莎士比亚？

Mycroft：事实上我们真的这样想过，相信我，军情六处绝对会把她培养成最厉害的黑客和杀手，但是Sherlock居然拒绝了这个建议，这完全是在为Rosie着想

Juhn：去埃塞俄比亚当间谍是为Rosie好？（挥拳头）

Mycroft：绝对不会，她会在更有用的地方

Hudson：真理解不了你们Holmes

Eurus：oh Watson先生，Sherlock说的果然没错，你对孩子的教育完全没有准备，这十二个月十五天十八个小时零23分钟她都没有进行学习，完全没有知识的摄入只有肉体的成长这是多么可悲的一件事啊，另外说一句，Sherlock是在6岁才开始读莎士比亚的，是我们这一辈中最晚的

Eurus：如果再这样下去她会变成一个白痴，和Sherlock一样的白痴

Mycroft：哦，不，一条金鱼，多么的可悲（扶额）

Greg：Myc 我知道我们在你眼里都是金鱼，但是Rosie也是一条聪明的金鱼吧，毕竟我认为正常一岁小孩应该是不会因为自己饿而爬进厨房泡奶（抱起地上爬的Rosie，走到厨房冲奶）

Sherlock：Juhn，你看一看，她现在甚至不能用清晰的语音表达“饿”这个最基本的生理需求，Mary看到也会感到很无奈的

Juhn：Hudson太太！把他们都请出去请出去！

Rosie：哇！

与此同时，厨房里

Greg：Myc！孩子的奶粉一般冲多少？（拿饭勺舀了一勺）（把Myc拉到厨房）

Mycroft：90g到93g最佳

Greg：几勺？（热水中…）

Mycroft：如果是汤匙的话我认为两勺就够了，不过我认为Rosie多吃一点也没有什么关系对吧

Greg：好（换成汤匙）你想喝多少啊小Rosie,不过我觉得Sherlock不会让你喝太多的…

Rosie：哇…

闻声赶来的Sherlock：Jeff，你居然不知道冲多少奶粉，我还以为你经常去照顾你前妻的那两个新出生的孩子，Oh闻闻你身上的吧全是Mycroft那该死的味道，如果不是你去前妻家沾染了那难闻的香水味Mycroft是绝对不会这样做的，而且以后不要再让这个死胖子来计数，照这样下去Rosie就要像球一样圆了！（一把夺过奶瓶）（找称）

Greg：我没有！我为什么要去照顾我前妻的孩子，他们甚至不是我的孩子…

Sherlock：不，你当然有去，你每周六晚上来照顾Rosie的时候身上的香水味可不是Mycroft的高档货，这种味道我只在那个把你甩了的前妻身上闻到过，再加上每次你的衣服都有被拉扯过的痕迹，即使你整理了前面的衣角，但是背后的痕迹你是抹不了的

Mycroft：是Greg！而且Sherlock，他现在姓Holmes，请你放尊重一点,不过Greg目前不打算要一个孩子，所以这些知识对他来说毫无用处(不过我认为如果我们有了孩子的话Greg应该会对这种事记得清楚一点吧)

Juhn：？什么时候

Sherlock：该死的我早该想到了，这死胖子一年前开始带戒指，而一年前Greg离了婚，妈咪知道吗？

Mycroft：还不知道，不过圣诞节我会把Greg带回家宣布的。

Hudson：哈，一群Holmes，话说Rosie也要姓Holmes吗

Juhn：是Watson！她是我的女儿！

Hudson：Oh，我还在想你们复合的话Sherlock会不会让Rosie姓Holmes…

Juhn:! Hudson太太! I'm not gay，I'm not a couple with Sherlock！

Hudson：Oh, of course, 夫夫有点摩擦很正常了，毕竟Sherlock假死了两年，我要是你我也不会原谅他，我和我丈夫就是这样，只不过他现在在地狱了，Oh好像不能说这个，God forbid，希望小Rosie可以让Sherlock不要再往我的墙上开枪了

Juhn：什么时候？!他又嗑药了！我们不是说好Rosie出生之后就戒了吗？

Hudson：就在昨天下午你上班的时候…

Juhn:Sherlock!!!你就是这样照顾Rosie的？

Sherlock：首先我没有嗑药，第二我在教Rosie如何拆解枪支，当然那时候我把子弹卸下来了，但似乎Rosie对着并不感兴趣，于是我给她做了示范，看起来她很开心，一直在哇哇叫

Hudson：你确定那是开心还是吓哭了，Oh可怜的Rosie

Sherlock：放心我给她带了耳罩，枪我也安了消音，一点问题都没有