pomegranate-pen

[pomegranate-pen]

The aeon's gaze. Dr.Ratio x GN!reader

summary: when outer space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveler ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak, vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again,

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost?

Why must you feel so alone?

you're trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

why wasn't Dr.Ratio a genius?

chapter 2- the research topic. chapter 1 is here!

Nous is many things. Merciful isn’t one of them. Yet, at the same time, you cannot call THEM ruthless, in a sense.

The truth is, Nous is merely a toddler. An innocent, naïve child asking the most bizarre questions, not understanding the weight of it, yet wanting to know everything about it. the aeon’s, annoyed by the influx of question and wishing THEY would just shut the fuck up, ascended THEM into aeonhood. An amusing thought passes through your mind. Was Nous technically speaking the Ipad kid between aeons? The little child oh so curious about the world around them, and rather than being given proper explanation and answers by the adults, they were given accessibility to something their mind could not comprehend yet? Is this why THEY have become non-verbal in recent amber eras? Have they gotten stuck in the brain-rotting trance of colors and information being consumed faster than light itself?

Even though Nous is one of the only aeons the world knows most about, their presence still leaves you with more questions than answers. A rather befitting narrative for the super-computer. You’ve once asked Screwlum, “what was it like to meet Nous? What did they look like up-close?” It was the first time you’ve ever seen Screwlum go silent, to see him not answer quickly and outright like he always does. You worried he might’ve malfunctioned for a moment, perhaps a gear in his mind overloading with information from such a strange question. After all, aeons are weird. To be in the presence of an aeon is like being stuck in an illusory state of half-consciousness, unsure of what is true and what is not. However, that’s merely what you heard from your previous mentors, the ones who achieved glancing at an aeon that they devoted their magic too. You yourself have never met an aeon, and you cannot really wonder which aeon you’d ever want to meet. You’ve never chosen a path, because magic was in all of them and  none of them all at once. Magic was something international, in a sense. It was laid within every path someone takes, and you could never escape it. whenever someone asks what aeon you follow and praise, you become non-verbal like Screwlum was at that moment. You don’t feel any connection with any of the aeonic paths, let alone strive to follow one. Your path has never been clear, and you frankly, dislike the very idea of one. Aren’t human lives supposed to be chaotic? To have freedom of choice? Our paths are forever changing, whether we like it or not, so you for one, never wanted to clear away yours, because you knew that no matter how many times you clear out the snow that hides your path, more snow takes up that space at some point. So the best thing you can do is just..walk on it. its slippery, hazardous and you may or may not break your skull or die from hyperthermia from choosing such a method, but the shrill of the cold makes the road excitable, it makes it feel right.

“……elderly…yet…childish.” Screwlum finally answered, with a hesitancy that astounded you.

You never understood what he meant, never could quite grasp his strange and short-cut answer (to this day, you still couldn’t believe that Screwlum, the constant champion of blabber, could ever even consider given a ‘short’ answer.)  that is, until now, as your curious mind led you to the guild’s library in your free periods, mindlessly reading about the history of aeonhood and all the information we do know about them.

Despite never wanting a path, you can’t help but admit that the aeons have always interested you. though yes, you don’t like devoting your life and goals to them, that doesn’t mean you don’t want to get to know them. It’s like when someone doesn’t want someone to be their leader, but does like the idea of having them as a friend.

‘…does that even make sense?’ you sigh as you flipped to the next page,grumbling at your own constant spacing out and travel of thought. Your excuse for wasting such a good and rare free time was wanting to find a decent research subject to write about, and yet, you can’t think of a single good idea that can aid you.

Though information about aeons are limited, that doesn’t mean people haven't researched all they can about them. Anything you ever wanted to cover, has already been covered several times in several books. The aeons literally have an entire, ginormous bookshelf dedicated to merely their history. Truly, you’re in your wits end here.you know for sure that everything and anything about magic has been covered, so you can’t even consider that an option either.

Holding yourself back from groaning in annoyance and breaking the peace and tranquility that laces the walls of the library, you purse your lips in a grunt and shut the book, unfortunately earning the ‘shush!!!’ from the librarian that you’ve been desperately trying to avoid.

“ah, wanderer,” it’s interesting how one can easily decipher Ratio from merely his voice. it’s entirely unique, in a sense. The confidence, the brevity of brilliance and intellect, brims within the very confinement of his voice. or, in your home planet's language, he sounds like a nerd. You turn around, deducting that you were in fact correct, it is Ratio, who was staring down at you with a tinge of curiosity laid within a gaze of monotone boredom. Once again, you see him without his alabaster head.it shocked you, and without realizing it, your mouth formed into a small pout as your eyes roamed his face, a bit disappointed the most intriguing part of his outfit has been gone for quite a while now… “I’ve been looking for you.”

“the great doc has been seeking me?” you gave a cheesy grin, one which he rolled his eyes at as he sits down beside you. “Why I’m quite a lucky guy.”

“don’t let it fool you to even further unnecessary boasting to your already fragile ego,”

“—ouch doc, you really know how to wound an already injured deer, don’t you?”

He ignores your mock of hurt and continues. “— I merely came here to tell you about our rendez-vous time. This could have been a quick, short message if someone didn’t hide their account within the group chat.”

“better safe than sorry.” You shrugged, closing your book. Ratio takes this time to eye your table, first giving a raised brow of curiosity as he reads the title of the book you were reading, one that quickly morphs into disappointment when he sees your supplies. He picks up your silly dinosaur pen, eyeing it critically.

“How on earth can you write with these?” he scoffed, turning the pen left and right, eyes glued to its tip, humming in displeasure.

“Well,” you gave a cheshire grin,a  teasing glint in your eyes.” first you grab the pen, then you—“

“—I mean, how do you make sure your calligraphy is good with it?” he cut off your light-teasing, giving you a roll of his eyes at your mused quips. He then taps the tip of the pen with his finger, then quickly wiping off the dot it formed on his fingertip. “..it is not suitable for writing at all. not to mention this..thing on it." He slowly taps the dinosaur with googly eyes as if it was an unknown, grimy and discolorful bacteria he must tread careful with. “..it limits your comfortability with the already unsuitable pen tip.” He looks at you sternly. “a good pen needs to be functional. Not…silly.”

“I write fine with it.” you replied back nonchalantly. Ratio gives you a glare, then eyes your open notebook.

“hardly.” He said dryly. “I thought these were an orphan’s scribblings.” He motions to the notebook. You try to hold back your snort, giving him a playful glare.

“it’s a good thing I am one, then.” You tried your best to hold bac k your giggle as his eyes widen from your reply, mouth the slightest,tiniest bit agape and at a loss for words. “and frankly speaking, it’s hardly the pen’s fault. It’s just how I write when I’m too focused on my thoughts to write in a proper and clean way.”

He stays quiet for a moment, perhaps still shocked by your previous quips, he then hums and eyes the pen again. “it still limits one’s capabilities of proper calligraphy.”

“how about we test that theory, then?” you suggest, and he gives you a curious look in response. “borrow my pen and write with it for a while. Then compare your notes.”

He tries to look into your eyes to rule out if this offer of yours was out of deception or genuine, mutual curiosity of his theory. When he finds none, he contemplates your offer for a moment, then mutters to himself. “…it certainly would be a nice break between projects…”

“..you take research as breaks?” you looked at him in slight disbelief.

His posture straightened a bit, eyebrows furrowing an inch closer than before. His usual stoic look now the tiniest bit defensive. “…I dislike having my mind unoccupied.”

“..I see.” You wonder, how one earth can a mind be unoccupied? Your head, no matter what you do, is always filled to the brim with thoughts,voices and memories. You’re always thinking of something, to the point where the only way you can escape your chattery mind is by forcing it to sleep, to shut down and stop yapping about some inconsequential and non-helpful topic it's stuck in. What is it like to have a quiet mind? To have a mind that can keep quiet for once to the point where you try to make it talk,rather than stop? With a shake of your head, you dispel the thought train. “So, where’s the rendez-vou point, oh great calligrapher?”

Ratio rolls his eyes at you, still eyeing the pen with utter reverence and infatuation. “lounge room, off hours.”

“you mean..the usual then?”

“No, not the usual.”he lets out an exasperated scoff, putting the dino pen down. It was as if you’ve asked a simple, catastrophically mundane question. a blabber of insolence. You would be taking offense, however, his gaze seemed troubled, etched with concern as he peered down at you. concern for you. it made you rethink his actions entirely. “The last thing you need is another hour awake far past the amount a human body can handle.” It was charming, in a way. How his doctor-like tendencies etch even within the confines of his seek for more knowledge.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but tease. “worried about my health, doc?”

He lets out a grumble at your cheshire grin, nose scrunching up, and whether he was annoyed, embarrassed or both, was a complete enigma to you. he tried to relax the muscles on hus face, to detangle the wrinkles forming on the bridge of his nose and eyebrows to somehow prove your lack of seriousness towards the matter, especially that matter being all about your own well-being, doesn’t affect him at all. “No.” he spoke firmly, a cutting tone within his voice. “I merely don’t want the case of a brain aneurysm happening in my office. It’d be quite tedious to deal with, and a hindrance to my pursuits, wanderer.”

“I’m wounded,doc.”

“physically speaking, you are not. Mentally? Most likely. Sentimentally? Unimportant.”

You hold back your amused snort at his (un)intentional cut-throat reply. you can see his puzzled expression from your reaction, and his silent analysis of your behaviour. Has he never had anyone be amused by his antics? It fuels the dangerous curiosity within you to analyze his character back, but you hold yourself back from such an action, given your deeply limited information about him. He, however, probably knows more about you than you’d like. Quite frankly, everyone might know you a little too well. Whether the information they have on you is flawed or not doesn’t matter when it comes to rumours, not until someone is proven guilty and shamed for spreading such nonsense. It makes you wonder, are his expectations and pre-established views of you being broke as you speak, or is he just truly weirded out by your amusement?

A dumb meme your students use is fitting for this occasion, ‘Is he stunned you’re a chill guy, or did he just never meet anyone chill?’ and if you dared to say it out loud, you knew a few poor nerds in this library would roll their eyes and let out an exasperated sigh as you try to use this slang as best as you could, ratio included.

After Ratio is done with his scanning of you, he quickly reiterates.“I mean, after class hours, Wanderer.” His eyes narrow at you, ever critical and sharp, forever in a stern furrow, all while, comically enough, he puts the dinosaur pen in his pocket, the silly little figurine sticking out like a sore thumb. Your stare must;ve been obvious, because when his voice cuts back and you look at him, he looks at you with a tinge of annoyance, exasperation, and if anyone dares to say it, slightly flustered. “we will be working for only four hours a day on this project, from seven p.m sharp to eleven. I do hope you have a car.”

“…I don’t.”

“Then you live nearby?”

“nope.”

“ah.”

“..do you have a car?” you hesitantly asked.

His face seemed blank, almost neutral, and unlike usual, there was no other intent behind his gaze. It truly was nonchalant.the godforsaken joke goes through your head again, this time the chill dog dressed as ratio. God, these kids will one day be your undoing, you’re sure of it.“No.”

“..then I presume you live close by?” you inquired, and yet, he shook his head.

“I do not.” He replied with a huff, and you swear, the huff was..amused. prideful,even. His neutral frown slightly quivering into a smirk the more bewildered and confused you look at him. you know this is somehow a trap, an entrapment of bragging, that is, but he didn’t seem eager for the bait, more like, he expected such a bait, as if he has had this conversation time and time again, and he’s uninterested in whether or not you will be curious enough to fall into this little riddle as well.

“so...I’m guessing you take a ride back home?....” without realising it, you’ve been tapping your pencil to the table for these few silent, inquiring seconds. An action Ratio seemingly took note of way back, and only now does he give a glance at it before returning his gaze back to you, his hands crossing and exemplifying his utterly perfect posture.

“I jog,actually.” He hummed, the tone cool and indifferent, as if his answers weren't just confusing you further.

“….you jog?”

“yes.”

“As in run?”

“is your vocabulary pool truly that small?” he bit back, yet his tone wasn’t as sharp as you heard him be when snide remarks to others. no, this one was different, this time, he wasn’;t actually questioning your intelligence, he knew you were far smarter than that, that you can fathom such a concept, yet your mind refuses to. it’s more akin to a parent scolding you for doing the obviously dangerous task of cutting fruit. You know the knife is sharp.you know your fingers are too small and fat to holding both the knife and fruit in the right angle, so why on earth would you endanger yourself like that?

“No…” nevertheless, you took slight offense and insecurity to it. but, to br fair, that was a stupid question. hell,taking a glance at his physique, you can tell he works out. he;s like a greek statue that came to life, only somehow much more muscular yet appealing to look at..you’ve always assumed muscular men look a bit too much to handle, a bit too meaty and girthy for the average man, and yet, Ratio looked…perfectly fit.not too slim, not too muscular, yet well-toned and muscles obviously poking out like his biceps…they’;re just somehow, in some unfathomable way, the perfect amount. And that fact leaves you in disbelief. Given how you yourself, are the pinnacle of illness.

“…are you checking me out, wanderer?” Though filled with teasing, cutting curiosity, it flowed within a stream of slight disbelief in his voice, and you quickly zone out of your thoughts, cursing yourself mentally as you scramble for an explanation.

“I just…realized some things.”

“oh?” the amusement in his voice somehow annoys you. you feel embarrassment flood into your nerves as you look away from his gaze.

“the jogging,” you huffed, trying to somehow let out at least some bit of the shame you feel now. “ it explains your…physique.”

“clearly.” He stated, only fueling your embarrassment. “but I must inform you that it's not merely ‘jogging’ that aided me in my quest for a sustainable, healthy life.” his tone that was once teasing now soothed into something akin to excitement, excitement for teaching, to be exact. His eyes ever so slightly shifted and  lit up when he noticed you still listening, intrigued by the topic. “One must have a perfect balance between exercise and diet. In fact, if one wants to lose weight, proper nutrients and meals are the way to go.” His posture straightens a bit, his voice monotone and informative. Although his sharp, golden gaze was aimed at you, it wasn’t exactly…at you. rather, it was off into his own,much more logical and mathematical dream-world.it made you wonder, what does the inside of his mind look like? What is his perspective on life? Is it all just pure mathematical gibberish you won't understand a monochrome of? Or perhaps there’s more to him than being purely, and genuinely, a huge nerd. “the most important part of a being’s health consists of what they consume- and so, you must make sure there is a dietary balance to your meals. Not too much fat. Not too much sugar. But also, no restricting them. Your body still needs the sugar and fat, but only a certain amount. Completely excluding them from your meals will only worsen your health.”

You nod, trying to not smile in absolute amused guilt because you definitely do not take care of your health in general, let alone dietary health. Ratio gives you a slight scrutinizing glare, a frown of disappointment and expectation on his face, as if you were a thief caught stealing the same bank twice this week. Expected, but not wanted. It’s a frown you’re very much accustomed to. you’re certain that if Screwlum ever had functioning lips, he’d give you the same tilt of his mouth. In fact, you believe that his deafening silence to some of your self-destructive jokes are his way of implicating that frown.

“don’t look at me like that!” Despite your laughter and protest,his gaze was still in deep thought, still roaming your figure to try to outline something that was out of place.anything that could make you crack. Being Dr.Ratio’s subject of interest was horrifying, and a bit flustering if you may admit, and you’re so glad his preferred subject to teach was mathematics rather than, say, psychology. “I don’t really know much about health sustainability to add to this conversation..” however, had it been about magic health/energy sustainability, you’d be able to ace this whole quiz-of-a-conversation with him. Nevertheless,seeing him ramble was always a treat. Though you’ve only seen it thrice by now (once being when you accidentally saw him at the library a few months into your new job, as he was tutoring a poor student, alabaster head on and immediately catching your attention with such an out-of-the-blue outfit choice.), it was always his utter certainty and confidence laced with the controlled passion of his that always charmed you.

When he finds nothing, he lets out a sigh himself, a disappointed one, yet, not disappointed at you…but himself. “That is clear as day.” He replied back, bringing back the much-needed sarcasm and amusement to the conversation once more.

“you know this can very easily be considered bullying?” you grinned. He only rolled his eyes.

“It's not bullying if I’m stating the obvious.” Though he tried to keep his voice as bland as possible, you could still hear the tremor of amusement, the strong grip he had on himself to not laugh as he replied, crossing his arms to somehow mentally gain a shield. Because if you are going to wear a mask in front of him, then so will he. It’s just a shame he didn’t have his alabaster head on today.

You gave a mock of a hurt gasp, eyes twinkling with slightly giddy as you dramatically put a hand to your heart. “that hurt, doc.that one really hurt.”

He doesn’t say anything back, only gets up, and you presume he just doesn’t find this conversation beneficial of his time anymore. As he turns around to walk away, he only gives you one more glance back, a glance that made you only want to decipher what his true intentions, his true emotions about you, were.

“don’t be late, wanderer.”

-----

Nanook didn’t scare you.

In fact, a part of you believes that Nanook is the one watching over your life. you’re a mere pawn of THEIR game. The game of destruction. At some point in these light years of your dreadful, magical existence, you felt like THEIR golden eyes were piercing through you, watching your every move with bated breath, wanting to see how the follower of no path, the wanderer of space,time and religion itself could crumble beneath THEIR feet.

Nanook once spoke to you.

It was through one of your trainings- a harsh, mind-breaking regiment one of your master’s made you go through. He was an emenator, though he never told you of which path exactly, and his actions were so utterly strange, such contradictions to one another that you could never truly decipher his path yourself. Whatever his path was, he was a master of all cosmical psychosis magic because of it. and it was one of the very few magic abilities you have been yet to learn, and were desperately eager to get your hands on it.

“..magic of the psyche is not to be trifled with.” Was his first words to you.no hello, no welcome, merely a far-off gaze to the boundless stars circling through the window of your mentor’s space station. “…your care-taker, Herta, may have told you to seek all magic…” you winced at the word. Care-taker. Madame Herta was many things. She was your mentor, your first teacher, your guide through space, your first introduction to magic, but she always stated and in fact proved to you that she was no parental figure. Whatever parental figure you truly seeked, you could never find it in her, for geniuses like her are too busy to trifle with such matters. This always made you wonder, did Screwlum feel the same? Or did he try his best to be a some-what father figure out of pity? It’s a spiral of thoughts that always leaves you deep in the chains of your insecurities, and the mere, small silver-threaded connection of the word ‘caretaker’ and ‘Herta’ leaves you laughing in a mix of anguish and indifference. “…but I implore you, young witchling, think before accepting my tutelage for the next few months.” he takes a sip of his tea, then hands it to you. confused, you merely glance at him in meek-nervousness, for after all, at that time, you were still a child trapped in space, an unfortunate case of misfortune and forced abandonment. The cause of the ignorant actions of both space-kind and earthling. You aren’t comfortable in your ‘new home’ yet, let alone understand the strange mechanisms, customs and behaviors and basic common knowledge of the space kind around you. and although most of the people you’ve met here were human, you were just learning from Scream the other day how one ignorant and unbeknownst disrespect between two opposing political figures led to the total destruction of planets. The old man was human, yes, but there was something about his eyes that made you question things. They were deep shades of purple, like the galaxy was within his very pupils, and small little white dots like the sky surfed through the endless purple abyss, to most, it could be seen as an eyesore, but to you, it was like the universe was within his very gaze. And it scared you. so of course, you were deeply nervous. Unknown matters, unknown world, unknown everything. Why would he hand-out his tea to you? Does he want you to refill it? perhaps drink it? no no, that’s just strange. He wants a refill, right? or maybe he wants you to look inside and see the tea-leaves? But his glass seems full—

The man sighs, a painful, tired one that you almost mistook for a groan. He was rubbing his temples, looking at you with a tad bit of judgement. “you think too much, child.”

This breaks away your chain of overthinking, your curiosity now taking the reins over your nerves. “You can read my mind?”

“yes, but no.” His answer makes you even more confused. He chuckles at your befuddled expression. “I hear your thoughts.”

“so you’re illiterate?” a scientist walking past you both snorted at your reply, when the old man grabbed his stick and extended it out to make him trip, and soon the scientist stumbled and gave a nervous yelp as he skedaddled away.

your still-not-confirmed-mentor rolled his eyes and huffed, but there was a hint of amusement in his grumbling tone.”No, child. I can read.” He stated with slight intensity, a bit offended you thought that low of him. “Cosmical psychosis is not about mind-reading. Nor is it just the mind. It’s about all living things around you, all galactic beings and the noises their very existence makes.every molecule is alive, and even in the slightest bit, induced with magic. With that magic, we can make connections. We can reconnect and become one with space and the world beyond our physical plaine-the mind palace, itself. “ he grabs the kettle beside him, intricate starry design and a fancy purple Herta logo right on it. he pours a cup for you, the steam wafting up to the air, a lilac fragrance invading one’s senses. he motions for you to look into the cup, peer inside it, and as you do, your eyes widen in shock, baffled by the sight before you. rather than the usual murky red and brown color of steamed leaves, the tea inside your cup was filled with the universe itself. Stars and constellations, the milky way and meteorites all stir into the the liquid with fevered intensity, a magnificent beauty of black and purple all in a few drops. He wasn’t drinking tea. He was drinking space.

“Try it.” he offered a gentle hum in his tone. His words made you pause a bit, looking at him with slight doubt and a heavy amount of hesitation. He gave a slight shake of his head, a small smile on his lips.

“not to worry, child. This is merely a small drop. It won’t hurt you.”

Yet, his words felt somehow hollow. You can feel the warmth of the cup slowly evaporating. Knowing the longer you stay, the worse the tea will start to taste. You slowly bring the cup near your mouth,let one tiny drop slip into your mouth and quickly drop the cup.

The pain.aeons, the pain. It was like thousands of needles and daggers had been stabbed into your very brain, your senses heightened and the world around you suddenly breaking into smaller and smaller things. You could see the molecules forming each and every crevice around you. the very essence of beings and the very ends of their core. You could taste sound. See smells. You felt like you were in another realm entirely, one that can see everything. Even the unseen. And that’s when you realized, you have become one with magic. with just one sip, you are now magic itself. The universe itself, as he said.

You have truly become one with it all, and it was dreadful.

You hear a chant, a prayer of sorts, ancient golden words being scrawled upon the fabric of reality within your sight and soon your mind seethes with a sharp rage, your sight becoming pure white until all the pain is suddenly released, your body collapsing to the ground, body shaking and sweaty as if you’ve been through a heavy work-out, your eyes closed shut and breathing ragged. You slowly peered your eyes open, seeing the ground you’ve clung to for stability, your shaking hands and the dribbles of sweat and tears that were forming the ground. All you could hear was your own horrified breathing, and that made you feel relieved. You don’t hear the unhearable anymore. You don’t feel the horrid pain anymore, and your body seems to be processing the aftermath. you could feel the old man’s presence still beside you, quietly sitting as you’re hunched up in the ground in clear agony. A part of you is offended by his lack of care, but another part isn’t surprised at all at this kind of behaviour. After all, he;s a friend of herta, and all of herta’s friends are weirdos like her. As you try to regain your sense of self and the true reality before you, your body freezes as you see a drop of blood spill down from you and onto the already tea-stained ground. You slowly lean back, letting your knees support your stability as your hands slowly come up to touch your face, and you trail your hand upon the small river cascading down your chin, all the way up to your nose. A nosebleed. One with no warning whatsoever. Your heart drops in horror, mind trying to gauge the sheer level of physical danger you just put your body through just from one sip of this cursed tea.

The man hums absentmindedly, pouring himself another cup of tea and handing you a handkerchief. “You are not ready.”  You wanted to quip back with something sarcastic, an ill behaviour you’ve been slowly equipping from herta and quickly learning to avoid using in social situations as Screwlum advised you to. There was this one time a comment of yours had a researcher in the ship suddenly bawl their eyes out, horrified and distraught over how agonizingly personal and confidential your quip to them was. they were going to quit on the spot had it not been for Screwlum’s  interference, and ever since then, the ‘stowaway’ of herta space station was being partially raised by the robot genius and mentored by The Herta.

You never liked that word. ‘stowaway’. While yes, you did escape from your own magic-less planet by jumping into the space-ship unauthorized when they were collecting medicinal herbs only your homeland grew, that didn’t mean you were an ‘unwanted’ being. You had a family.or at least…you presume you had one before your departure. You were quite young when you ran away, some said you were barely even five, and when you got into the spaceship, you hid in the storage room for hours until someone heard your cries behind the door. When they opened it, there you were, clutching a Wuubaboo for dear life as the fluffy being whimpered in sympathy.

When he gets no answer in return, he sighs again, shaking his head in disappointment. “trapped in your own mind once more...” he tutted. “child, if you do not find a way to control that train of thought of yours, you’ll face far more problems in the future.”

“Mr.Screwlum said thinking before any act is always a great method of strategy.” You reasoned.

“yes, but what good would thinking do, if all it does is stop you from ever taking any action in the first place?”

You frown at that, your mind already exhausted from the absolute gut-wrenching pain this conversation was. and yet, a part of you was offended, and another part, was enraged. Enraged from yourself, to be exact. You were disappointed in yourself in something you didn’t even try yet, something you didn’t even know existed till now. you’re here to learn magic, aren't you? then why the hell are you incapable of learning cosmic magic?

“When will I be ready?” you clench your hands in frustration, your voice a bit unsure of the path ahead of you.

He doesn’t say anything at first, merely sipping his tea in utter silence. Is this how he’ll always act? If so, you don’t think you’ll ever even have the patience to be a student under his tutelage. He sets the cup down slowly, only annoying you more than before, and making you look like an impatient kid waiting for their grandpa to get up and buy them candy.

“when you taste the bitterness of sorrow and loss.” His words left no room to answer,and right as you blinked, he vanished, the only signs of life left from him being his tea cup, which now didn’t emanate a warm steam out of itself. At an utter loss for words, you look around you bewildered, a desperate attempt to see where he went. With a clogged up sniff, you peer closer into the teacup on the table, only to see a note in it. you pick it up, and open the small folds around it to unravel the palm-sized piece of paper it truly is.

-when you’ve finally tasted it, come find me for a cup of tea.

                                           ---W.

“there you are Y/n! where’s Mr-?!“ the (currently, former, as Asta takes their place in later years) head researcher in the space station  gasp startles you, and as soon as you turn around, they’ve already hurried to your direction. . their hands soon traced the trail of dried blood cascading down your nose,their own crinkling in worry.

“what happened? Did you hit your head somewhere?”

And you, with full clarity of mind, shook your head and answered, “I drank magic.”

With a bewildered head researcher and amused Herta, you’ve spent the rest of your years studying magic a bit less difficult than the all-consuming cosmos one. And for the longest of times, you’ve believed that you may never learn such a thing. That such magic shall never touch your skull or hear your thoughts ever again, because the pain you’ve felt the moment you’ve gotten a sip of its power was one you’ve never felt before.

However, fate has made you taste the bitterness of loss. Fate has wreaked your heart with a pain so deep, you started craving and preferring the pain given to you by the magic. for nothing cuts deeper than the stabs in one’s heart, and yours were torn to shreds when he got consumed by the abyss of his cursed existence.

So you went to him. back to W. when all was lost, when all feeling was gone, and when all you could think of was your lover’s sweet smile, his dumb chuckles, the silly dimples on the corners of his mouth. All your thoughts were consumed by him, a warrior long gone, a warrior you had to defeat, a warrior you’ve made.

You don’t know how, but your mind exactly knew where to go to find him. exactly knew where he could be, as if the cosmos themselves whispered the information into your ear themselves. And just like last time, he was sitting underneath the stars, sipping his heavy and dark tea, not even sparing a glance at you.

“I have tasted it.” your voice wavered, your movements stagnant and slow, as if the weight of grief was pulling you down. “  It is as bitter as you said it would be. More painful than your cursed tea.”

He said nothing back, and you almost considered hanging your head low in shame and walking away, thinking you were still not ready nor worthy enough for his teachings. However, the sound of a porcelain cup being placed onto the table, near the seat beside him made your interest spark again. and as the hot tea poured into the extra cup, with baited breath you’ve awaited his reply.

“then would you like to join me for a cup?”

You weren’t sure how many months have passed, but you clearly remember the blood that has been shed from your skull and bones, the lack of clarity in your mind and the mental anguish you’ve felt from your meditation, an action that was usually meant to bring peace to the mind. You remember the hallucinatory horrors of your mind, the world’s your psyche would create to try to shield you from the galaxy’s truth, something that was your task to seek. You remember how you destroyed every world, destroyed every mirror with tears and blood, screams of anguished grief and guilt echoing through the walls of the cave you’ve stayed in for months on end, the lengths you’ve put yourself through all to forget the agony you’ve led. As you destroyed your mind, destroyed your spirit, and subsequently, destroyed yourself in the process, it was with a shaky, unstable mind you’ve seen THEM.

They…looked familiar. eerily familiar. horrifically so. It was in that moment you’ve realised they were clad in an exact replica of you. a clone. The only difference being the bright,glowing and almost blazing golden eyes that swirled with the power of aeonhood, the gaze of destruction. THEY were not you. THEY only manifested into this form for a reason possibly beyond your own comprehension.

They walked towards you in slow, powerful steps, their frame looming over you with each breath you took, each time you blinked. A deafening silence overtook the dark cave as they peered into your very soul, and in a swift, harsh second, their hand, with a strength much stronger than a regular clone of yours could ever bear, wrapped around your throat, making you writhe in desperate panic as you’re pushed back into the rocky wall, small stones and dust falling down on you from the impact, cracks forming behind you. you grasped their wrist and flailed away, desperate attempts to somehow weaken their chokehold or even make them let go. Their force only tightened, making you wheeze out a breath of plea, looking up at them horrified. Their gaze only hardened, a single question uttered, yet their lips never moved once as their voice echoed through your mind.

“Where is your home, wanderer?”

“Y/n! we’re going out for coffee.you comin’?” Byron’s voice snaps you out of your trail of thoughts as you zone out from your mindless gaze into the blank screen of your computer, a word document with a trail of questions and prompts  in it that all had either been researched or were not interesting enough to venture in. you clear your throat and shake your head, trying to somehow lessen the weight of the heavy thoughts in your mind as you sit up straight.  “No, thanks…I think I’ll sit this one out.”

Byron gave a mock gasp, an amused grin placed on his face. “Have the aeons heard my prayers? Is my magic obsessed friend finally letting go of unhealthy habits?!” He then grabs Rina who was apparently behind him this whole time, her movements just as mocking and mischief filled as his as she clutches his shoulders.

“Oh my dear do you see this?!” Byron shook Rina.

“yes! I do!! Our child is finally touching grass!!!” Rina cried in glee.

“I hate both of you so much.” You replied in a grumble, typing away with flushed cheeks.

“We love you too.” Rina chuckled. “Just make sure you don’t stay up too late! The bags under your eyes are getting worse.”

“yeah yeah.” Your absentminded wave may have only caused more worry, but at that moment, you really couldn’t care less about your well-being. Especially since you can’t just go back home tonight just as your friend’s advice. Though..you doubt Ratio would aid you in your self-destructive conquest on staying up late. Speaking of which….

As you glance at your clock, noting the start of the evening, you finally get up and turn off your computer with remorse, wondering if you ever will find a topic before the semester even ends.

Your mind is boggled with different worries and minor issues as you make your long way to Ratio’s office, in fact, your mind was so deeply pre-occupied, that you didn’t notice the panting and running Caleb. You froze, turning around and recognizing his signature red jacket. “Caleb?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, sweating like bullets as he looks at you with sheepish worry, as if he’s a child who's broken a vase, and the parents have finally caught on. “prof.” he said with fake confidence, all sweetened with a nervous laugh. Your teacher instincts immediately kicked in, looking at him quizzingly.

“Why are you running?”  you eyed him so sharply that Caleb gave a shuddering breath, as if he was trying to calm down his nerves.

“uh well I’m…” he takes a second too long to answer. Your suspicion deepens. “..I’m late to class?...”

“It's seven.”

“well it’s a night class!” he swiftly blurted out, grinning to himself at the self-save. “yeah I-uh- stayed a bit too long at the library and now I’m late to my…”  again, he gets tongue-tied and his shoulders go under by your heavy gaze and raised brow. “ ….spanish class?”

“your what?”

Caleb buckles under your heavy gaze and nervously springs up like a spring . “y-you see prof on my planet, earth, we ha-“

“I know what Spanish is, Caleb.” You cut him off with a sigh. “ I’m from earth too.”

Caleb’s eyes widened in hopeful astonishment, his nervous troubled smile replaced with a giddy one. “Wait- really? How did y-“

“not the time, kid.” You felt bad for ruining his excitement, but you couldn’t stray away from the conversation. Especially since you’re already a few minutes late to your meeting with Ratio, and something tells you he’s the type to count down tardiness by the second.

Caleb turns bashful, immediately nodding his head in agreement (though it more seemed like an act to gain approval from an older peer) and doubled down on his lie. “ right right..I-I’m late to my spanish class, prof. I need to go-“

“But why would this planet—“ yet before you could even finish your sentence, he’s already stormed away, yelling out an apology to you as he does so. Your left confused, befuddled, and most importantly, concerned about what your student you possibly hide from you that would force him to lie this badly.

Well..whatever it was, it was something morning shift Y/n would have to deal with when in teacher mode, and now, night shift Y/n has to face the wrath of an impatient coworker.

-----

The dream bubble was acting strange today.

It seemed like the more people stayed in contact with it, the more it started to shift and change into something entirely new, a new world, a new sphere, a new dreamscape. And now, as you’ve peered into its insides to see the mechanical changes to its functions and note it down, you stiffened as you realize the once blazing fire you’ve felt by the bubble is long gone, replaced with something much more solid and unnatural, in a sense.

The element you felt thrummed with illuminary powers, able to take form and shape into whatever the possessor desires, and being known as the ‘root’ of some people’s magic.

“…imaginary.” You’ve muttered, getting Ratio’s attention away from the hologram boards. “…the bubble takes forms of different energy’s around it, and since you’ve been around it most, it’s become imaginary.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you were too consumed by the scannings of the inter-mechanics of the dream bubble to pay attention to his reaction. But for a moment too long, he stayed silent, but then finally muttered an “‘I see.’ “

“Can you delve deeper into the bubble this time?” he inquired, and you could hear his shoes tapping as his multitasks on both cases. you nod,and take a deep breath in, feeling your energy swirl around your arms and slide to your very fingertips, asking for the simplest of permissions.

The dream bubble, made to make people see its wondrous illusions, gladly acce[ted your request, and soon the world around you changed, yet this time, rather than the blazing scorch of fire’s inviting you to the dreamscape, everything was being meticulously added and formed, like a puzzle piece fitting all it’s pieces together, and you swore you saw some math around the world be calculated as it was formed, not something you’d expect to be in someone’s ‘greatest dreams’. But then again, it was mostly likely Ratio’s effects on the bubble, and it’s comically fitting that he’d find something as arduous as math a sweet dream.

As you’ve entered the world, you feel utterly different. Healthier, in a sense. Your head felt hazy for a moment, but as you shook away the common numbness that comes with such ordeals, you’ve got a better view of the world around you. and you almost shrieked as you saw Screwlum across the table.

Screwlum’s head tilts to you, his mind warring into thinking mode like it always has been, the butterfly on his shoulder fluttering a bit. “tone shift into concern, activated.” He began. “Question. Are you alright, Dr.Ratio?”

It took you an agonizing minute to fully register everything, to look down at the sleek, marble table and see the faint reflection on it and realize that you are in fact, in the body of Ratio.you cleared your throat, tried to hold yourself back from feeling alarmed by your sudden change of voice, and look at him as stoic as you could. “I’m fine, no need to worry….” For a moment you pondered what on earth would Ratio call Screwlum by. Doctor?Professor?genius? mr?”….sir.” you are terrible at acting.

Screwlum merely nodded, his attention shifting elsewhere, giving you enough time to gather your thoughts and try to pinpoint what exactly this dream is about. As you look around, you realize you’re in the Herta space station, and interestingly of all, you’re in the room Madame Herta usually hosts all her meetings. You remember as a child you’ve never been permitted to enter such gatherings, since they were ‘genius only’, as Herta would put it with a smile. As a kid, you were pouty about this ban, but the more you grew up, the more you thanked the aeons you didn’t have to see more of Screwlum and Herta’s squabbles outside the regular amount you were forced to endure every day.

But why was Ratio’s dream to be in such meetings? As the question swirled in your mind, a feeling prickled your hair’s ends. The feeling of being watched. Being gazed upon by an aeon. A thrum of power, a whisper of their path, a surge of curiosity and hunger for knowledge, the will to sacrifice it all to reach a conclusion, you were being gazed upon by nous.

You were a genius.

Dr.Ratio’s biggest dream was to be a genius. To be gazed upon by Nous themself.

As you peered more into this strong feeling, to this thirst for knowledge and whispers of the untold questions piercing through your skull, the world around you blurred, your insides felt sick, and you felt heavy, like your heart was coming up to your throat, like the pit of your stomach wanted to gouge itself out of your systems entirely.’aeons, is this what its like to be gazed by you?’ voices became a mumble, your chest tightened with coughs as you spit out fall leafs and blood onto the table. ‘Is this what it takes to be a genius?

the world staggers in glitches, the words of your fellow scholars turning into a sizzling blur as your vision falls short. Your mind felt heavy, burdened with knowledge, whispers of unknown bombarding your eardrums as you fail to make sense of the nonsense around you, and the power thrumming within you urging you to do so. Between all the harsh whispers, all the blurring lines, one voice, robotic, barely incomprehensible, takes your attention.

“speak with US, Wanderer.”

“Wanderer…! Wanderer! Get out of there!”

 your body felt weightless, as if you were floating and defying the gravitational pulls around you, and as you’ve took a deep breath in, you felt yourself falling, quickly being catched by a strong pair of arms, one that had belonged to a concerned yet a tad conflicted Dr.Ratio. loud clutters could be heard alongside your fall, making your ears ring a bit.

You winced, feeling the heavy pangs of pain that throbbed in your skull now, trying your best to gather your thoughts and focus on the world around you. “….what happened?” and most importantly, why does this keep happening? Holding the hand of Ratio was one thing, even if it was brief, but being cradled by him was another, and you almost lost your balance and fell had it not been for your swift and unconscious effort to hold onto his arms as support. His build frame felt like bricks under you, but strangely enough, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. His flesh made it so he felt more like a comfy cushion supporting your weight, rather than the pair of arms they actually were. Ratio himself seemed a bit bothered by the hold, and whether the furrowed brows were because he was uncomfortable with the contact or your weight, you’d rather not know the answer.

Ratio sighed, putting you down to the ground as he put a hand under his chin in thought. “ I believe the dream bubble has been cracked somehow,leading to some of its magic spilling out when used.. hence why you started floating, and then lighter weighted items have begun to take flight as well.” as he speaks, he types all of it down on the blue holographic screen, now completely ignoring the disheveled state you’re in. “ The energy fluctuation was reaching a dangerous height, therefore I woke you up before any unwanted accidents could happen.” He added nonchalantly, then he glanced back at you with sharp,inquisitive eyes. “What did you see in your dream?”

You wondered if you should tell him or just stay silent. After all, this dream must’ve been a personal one, something he might’ve not wanted anyone to know, especially a coworker. But lying has always given you a heavy pit in your stomach and a bile of guilt in your throat, and you have enough guilt chugged up in there to last a century. “I…saw your dream.”

Ratio stopped writing for a moment, his head turned back to you, his body as still as a sculpture. You feel nervous, yet for what, you’re unsure of. It’s not like you chose to see his dream, now did you? nonetheless, it didn’t make the situation any less awkward, and the silence was making you sweat.

A few beats went by in just an unbearable quiet, only the sounds of the holographic emulators buzzing around you.guild consumed you, haunting your veins and blood as you took a shuddering breath, not daring to look at him. “I’m sorry-“

“Sorry for what, Wanderer?” his voice was sharp, cutting,yet there was no madness to it, no rage at you, rather, it seemed shaken. Uncomfortable, in a sense. He certainly and rightfully so feels uncomfortable with the fact that you saw his deepest desires, yet he wasn’t mad at you. something about that baffled you, made you let out a breath of disbelief as you finally dared to look at him.

“….I saw something I shouldn’t have.” You reasoned against yourself. Not doing anything to defend your position. And Ratio let out a frustrated grumble, clicking his tongue.

“it wasn’t in your control.” His eyes bore into yours, the gold in it almost blinding with his inquisitive glare and strong frown. “Was it?”

You clamored up, shaking your head frantically. “no, of course not-“

“Then don’t apologize.” He cut you again, this time much harsher than before. Had it not been for your guilt, you would’ve bitten back on such a behaviour. Instead, you merely bit your lip in frustration, stress buzzing in your blood as all you could retaliate with was a sigh. “…when you have no control, you’re not at fault.” Ratio scolded, even if he himself seemed deeply uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, as if trying to regain a semblance of control in this uncontrollable chaos the bubble creates. He takes a sharp breath, glancing back at the monitors, avoiding direct eye-contact with you. “Besides, this is what research is for. This was meant to happen at some point. Whether we liked it or not.”

Another silence takes over the room, one much more uncomfortable than the last, proving that Ratio-s back-handed reassurance was all for naught. He wouldn’t turn back to look at you even once, writing down equations that only looked like nonsense to the uneducated eye..your eyes, to be exact.

You only looked at the ground in shame, mind trying to grapple with all that you’ve seen and how much of it were you not allowed to.seeing your shaken state, he finally released a breath, his shoulders slouching slightly, his hands clenching for a moment before relaxing back. “..what was it about?” he asked critically, as if he was quizzing you rather than asking you a question. After all, he already knows his true dream, and now, you do too.

It takes you a moment to answer, eyes softening into a more somber than shaken look, your thoughts finally turning cohesive.“…the genius society isn’t as great as it seems.” You mumbled, looking away from his gaze,trapped in your own memories and interactions. “…they may be intelligent, but they’re…not the easiest pill to swallow. Especially when you want to work with them.” Especially when you live with them.

Ratio stays silent, his back still turned to you, and you see his head rise up a bit, as if he was looking through his reflection in the hologram. “….I didn’t want to work with them.” He was uncharacteristically soft in his tone, his voice seemed dazed, by his own dreams and wishes, by his hopes, goals. “ I wanted to be like them.”

You felt pity, an urge to comfort him came within you, yet you knew empty words have no effect on a man like Ratio, so your mind searched for some way to soothe the ache of imperfectionism a perfectionist like Ratio feels in his life. and then, it hits you, like a plug being instilled to the electrical socket, you rise up in surging determination and catch his attention. “let me make it up to you-“

Ratio’s once soft gaze turned back into the cold, scolding glare he’s keenly devoted to. “there is nothing to make up for-“

“that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty!” you were the one who cut him off this time, powered by sheer audacity and determination. He looks at you befuddled for a brief moment, then shakes his head and scoffs. As soon as he opens his mouth to retort, you cut him off once again, like a cat waiting for its prey to just flinch for them to attack.

“ I want to make it up to you.” your voice left no room for argument, no space for snappy, scolding retorts. “You said you failed to become a genius, but…you never knew why, did you?” your question makes his eyes widened, further confirming your hypotheses. A grin is in your face, sheepish as it may be, it seemed excited with the new idea splurging your mind. Your hand reaches out to shake his, a glint of curiosity in your eye. “Then how about we find out how?” Perhaps, reaching the answer would bring both comfort to the doctor's mind and a great topic for you to write about.

You’ve successfully killed two birds with one stone.

----------------A/N-----------------

Oh boy oh boy, NOW WE’RE GONNA GET INTO THE GOOD STUFF, I PROMISE!!!!

Hello folks! Sorry for the delay in this update, it’s quite difficult to juggle with life, ten thousand un-published fics and two published ones I’m most into writing rn, so this took me quite some time to write!!

So sorry if this chapter seems repetitive, I promise next chapters will be much more eventful!!! Think of these two chapters as like..the prologues, yk? I wanted these two endings to somewhat parallel each other. Do tell me what you understand from this parallel!! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Anyways PLEASE do ramble in the comments, I’d love LOVEEEE to hear your thoughts about this chapter. Trust me when I say comments are the NO.1 motivator for me.

Anyways, have a great day everyone!!!!

[pomegranate-pen]

why is it any time I want to find a fic about a character or show I like THERE'S BARELY ANYTHING THERE STOPPPPPPPP PLSSS I ALREADY HAVE SO MANY UNFINISHED WORKS END THISSS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[pomegranate-pen]

New theme but will anyone ever know it's secretly riddle rosehearts inspired 🥀

[pomegranate-pen]

*looks around embarrassed* ........ If I ever release a wenzhi x reader would anyone even read it. /srs this time

[pomegranate-pen]

JUST wanted to say here that my tumblr is super wonky rn because I need to use a cheap ass vpn to post so IM VERY SORRY FOR NOT TAGGING ANYONE FOR THE NEW STRANDED CHAPTER!!!

[pomegranate-pen]

Stranded. boom!sonicxfem!reader

chapter 7. captive and captivation.

masterlist.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

Pink suitcases of all kind fill up the small living room, making it a bit harder to move around the place. Hence why you’re glued to the couch watching Amy and Sticks prepare. Amy looks at you worryingly, it was as if you were a toddler being left alone for the first time in her life. Which…is technically not untrue, minus the toddler part.

“Amy can take two guests with her y’know.”  Sticks clutches her own bag on her shoulders, a normal hand-made one with leather. Compared to Amy, she looks at the array of suitcases with utter confusion. “but I guess you’d have to pack light.” A huff comes out of her.looking back at Amy with a tinge of annoyance. “Do you really have to pack this much? It’s only a two day trip!”

“It's not just a ‘trip’ Sticks!” Amy starts getting giddy with excitement. “I’m being invited to Comedy Chimp! That’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to my business!” ah, right. Comedy Chimp, the one and only late night tv show who speaks with celebrities of this Island. Another new information you’ve learned during your few weeks here. Though not as much as a shocker as the very idea of anthropomorphic people even existing, with your shock on the latter completely phasing by and dying at this point, you’ve come to question more about this world you’re living in.

First, it was the media itself. Somehow, they have their own internet, their own certain electricity and connections that set them completely disconnected from the world outside of theirs. It’s baffling, really. Though you’re not the most expert in this topic, surely they’re connected to it somehow, right? If not, you wouldn’t have been able to connect to Jason in the first place…but then again…you do always have to call him on the highest mountain of the place, with the lowest internet possible and a very glitchy and often blurry figure of Jason on your screen. Perhaps, you should try and see if you have the ability to text and load up videos as well. Maybe with the help of google maps you can pinpoint where you technically are. Despite the idea fresh in your mind, another thought dwells on you, one that makes you huff. You’d rather not let your sudden quick activity on the internet alarm Louis. It’s been quite the two months, suddenly appearing online could raise unwanted attention.

With that out of your mind, you try to trace back to your first thought. Right, the Island’s media. They all have their own celebrities, some you’ve only heard by name, such as Tommy Thunder, and others you’ve seen pictures of, like the eagle on the chocolate bar you're on your first day here. and the third of them were the big stars. Though only a handful, their presence is very well known among the residents. Though deep diving and researching about how and when they have gotten famous feels like a rather fun feat, you’re more curious about something much more boring.

How do they make these certain merchandise and objects?

You will be honest, this Island is no safe place. If the almost active volcano wasn’t proof enough, there is also Eggman who destroys the town constantly, and from what you’ve heard by Sticks and Amy, things such as meteor showers and hurricanes are not uncommon. A very horrifying thought, given how Amy’s house is quite frankly not the safest in terms of structure. Not to mention, you’re soon to be housed in a tree. So yeah, not a nice thought.

But here is the thing, here is the subject that has been bombarding your mind from the moment you’ve woken up. you only know one section of the entire huge Island. Some could argue that you know four, if you count the jungles, beaches and volcanoes. But, all of those places are only a few feet apart, and one can only see them as one zone of the Island. Your proof? Comedy Chimp.

You see, dear imaginary competitor who is trying to reason with y/n’s logic,the host of Comedy Chimp-er… whose name is also Comedy Chimp- does these certain skits. Afterall, there aren’t enough celebrities to interview on a daily basis, so their routine is a bit different from what you’d be used to. They interview a celebrity once a week, which is usually on Friday nights, and before that day, they constantly try to put clues on the show for people to stay tuned and try to guess who the celebrity will be. Clues, who get separated in different skits around the island that the host does. The first night when you watched him, he was in a desert looking area, a place that shocked you and made you ask Amy where he was exactly. Much to your shock, Amy replied that it’s a certain section of the Island away from the town, then she started to ramble about how it was beneficial to the ‘ancients’ in the past. That would also explain why you’ve never seen the studio for such a show, or a studio for any show on their channels for that matter. They were on the other side of the Island, one completely unknown to you. and perhaps, even, it would have the workshops or factories that create products like that eagle chocolate  bar in such a rapid pace.

“-Y/n? were you even listening?” Before you could even delve deeper, Amy’s voice snaps you out. you look at her with a bit of guilt. “yeah- I think? You were talking about why you need all these suitcases.”

“So you agree?” Amy grins triumphantly at Sticks, whom was grumbling and rolling her eyes.

“well…” you huff, and Amy and Sticks both now look at you with little anticipation. “I mean- it’s best to be prepared- but how are you going to carry all of these by yourself? Won’t it be exhausting?”

“uh, hello?” her posture straightens up in pride. “You are speaking to a soon-to-be celebrity and the most successful business woman of all on this island!” Sticks seemingly rolled her eyes at that.

“he’ll probably just ask you dumb questions.” Sticks groaned. “How are you so sure he’s the right guy for a sponsor?”

“Can’t you be a bit more supportive?” Amy sighed. “ not even Sonic got an interview with him yet.”

“Exactly.” Sticks replied. “ He's out of actors and models around here, so now he’s lookin’ for us for content!” she suddenly grumbles. “ain’t no way I’m letting that stale-joke-stealing guy get any money out of me.”

“Well, he’s not interviewing you, he’s interviewing me.”

Sticks sighs at that. “Just warning ya.” She grabs the suitcases and walks through the door. “don’t come crying to me when he doesn’t ask you anything about your new business!” she says, as if she wouldn’t gouge Chimp’s eyes out if he insults her best friend in any way.

“Say, which business are you trying to promote here?” you spoke up, grabbing Amy’s attention as she was zipping up the last bag.

“interior design!” she gleefully answers. “ you did say I had a knack for it, so I thought why not make a business out of it?”

“Well, yes- you do have talent in it.” you take a glance around the house, confirming your own statements to yourself. “But are you sure you want to make every hobby of yours a business?”

“What do you mean?”

“well—“ you sit up a bit more straight. “ You don’t need to make every hobby marketable to prove to yourself that you’re good at said hobby. And you already have so many classes you run, are you sure you even have time for it?”

“oh please,” Amy scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Have you even met me? I am the queen of schedules! I’m sure I can make time for it.”

“hold on-“ Sticks now joined the conversation. “you mean to tell me you didn’t even start the business yet?!””

Now faced with two worried friends and a load of doubt, Amy stutters a bit and then grumbles. “ Trust me on this,guys! This will be highly marketable! Next week you’re going to see me in the magazine!" She strikes a fashionable pose. “Amy Rose, model, business woman,artist, entrepreneur and interior designer!” she strikes another. “What's next for this sublime pink beauty? Go to page 68 to find out more!”

“Do magazines actually have that many pages?” Sticks’ questions go unanswered.

“Well, if you say so.” You just shrugged. It’s not your business,anyways. If this is what she wants to promote, then who are you to stop her? “I hope it goes well.”

“promise me you’ll watch it?” Amy’s eyes are one of excitement, an excitement that quickly shifts to slight concern. “and that you’ll make sure the house  is not trashed by the boys when I come back?”

Two days where you’re alone, one where it’s off to work in the morning, but after it is a well needed rest after the hellish work week you’ve been through. No matter how many animals you patch up or inspect, the rows and reservations at the vetirinary are never-ending. You have a few plans on how to spend the weekend. You’re not sure why Amy’s so worried about the house being trashed, but from what you heard, last time she let Sonic and Knuckles take care of the place it didn’t go so well. something about a couch fiasco. though, since she seemed concerned, you gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it’ll calm her nerves down.

“promise.”

---

The clement household was always known to be cold.

Outside it’s walls, it’s a beautiful, warm victorian-like manor deep within the forest, it’s a princess’ castle and a house pet’s oasis. But within the old rose-covered walls lies a cold, dimly lit, empty house. Even the employees within the place are as quiet as ever, their shoes barely leaving a ‘click’ or a ‘clack’ against the smooth wooden floors.  The lack of noise is the complete opposite of what Cameron is used to. 

Being one of the ‘generational’ families whom have saved the world from doom centuries ago had it’s perks and very small disadvantages. One disadvantage being the oath the families took amongst each other to meet when one wants to speak with them. It’s known as a greta way of teamwork and companionship, breaking it would be considered shameful and done in pure distaste. Which is why he’s here today, in the Clement household by the request of Louis Clement, this year’s biggest jackass.

It’s a request that had his mother spout praises and excitement while his grandparents spoke about upholding respect and acting with manners of a gentleman, all while his great great uncle sat in silence, like he always has.

His family doesn’t know what he knows, so of course they only see this as a common courtesy and perhaps even an offer for future business relations, but it’s far from that,it’s much more ridiculous, because Louis Clement never learned to grow up and face rejection, and now he’s decided to go haywire because of it.  

There are many reasons on why Cameron never liked speaking with the other children  within the guild. One common excuse of his being that their personalities just didn’t mix well with his. His house was known for intelligence, known to be full of scientist and analyst whom constantly support mankind with their scientific goals. Though now the idea of engaging in the scientific discovery is slowly dimming down generation after generation, the honor and promise of helping it prosper is something they must support, whether his father liked it or not. Oh, and him? Well, Cameron, ‘embarrassingly enough’ as his mother would say, likes conspiracy science. Though he often finds himself disagreeing or just being amused by the prospect of flat-earth or pyramids being built by aliens, there is one phenomena that has never left his mind. For he himself has seen proof of their existence- or at least- he knows a trustworthy man who has.

“I apologize for the short notice Mr.Eclipse.”

Shaky. Louis’ voice seems shakier here than he’s ever heard it. just like any other, Louis often wore a mask of confidence when invited to the annual parties, he was radiant, a star in the middle with beaming eyes and a charming smile. He was the perfect image for the Clement family and has strayed far from showing his insecurities to others. a lesson taught by his family, perhaps. For they too tend to not show any annoyance or grievance to anything. He often heard his grandmother complaining about ‘every generation worse than the other, for Clement’s pure hearts as they call it, can dim and become rotten with time.’ He never understood what she meant, but he can get a good grasp of it now. For you see, it seems like the rumours of Clement’s being emotionless was untrue, quite far from it in fact. They are just as emotional as any other human being, or maybe, Louis Clement is by far the most emotional Clement he’s ever seen.

Louis runs a hand in his hair and straightens his clothes, dressed casual and not in the suits Cameron is used to seeing him wearing. Thank god, because Cameron decided against wearing a suit as well, believing he looks too awkward in such a formal getup.

He clears his throat,preparing to sound utterly poised and formal, remembering how his mother prayed for him to not screw this up. “there’s no need for apologies..uh..Mr.Clement.”

“Please, just call me Louis.”

“Okay..Louis- cool.” Shit shit he already ruined it. oh well, he did say he won’t promise anything, perhaps he’ll be saved from the scolding later. “ so—…can I ask why you called me?”

“Why are you in such a rush Cameron?” because you’re an intense psycho who couldn’t take no for an answer- was what Jason would’ve preferred Cameron to say, and he’ll admit, he wanted to see his reaction to such a sentence as well- but he’d rather not find assassins ready to strangle him outside, so he opted to just stay silent instead.

“Let's go to the garden first. I recently got this sublime tea. It would hurt my feelings if you hadn’t had at least one sip.”

Don’t say anything snarky don’t say anything snarky don’t don’t don’t-

Yet, Cameron has always been a troublemaker at heart. From learning the most confusing and less-evidential of sciences to letting a complete stranger take a relative’s yacht. He could not handle ignoring such a perfect moment.

“Why?  Is it poisonous?”

Louis falters in his step, frozen in shock for a moment, his back turned to Cameron. His shoulders shake, then a bit of wheezing  can be heard. A small wheeze then became a holler of laughter. Never has Cameron heard  a laugh so on edge, so on the verge of mental collapse. Oh god, it is poisonous, isn’t it?

Louis turns back and looks at him with a smile. “ I’ve heard that you were amusing to speak with, but I never expected to be laughing from the first minute that you’re here!” if Cameron were a fool, he’d hit Louis or give him another,even harsher comment, but he knew where the line was and where he stood in it, so he kept his mouth in a tight smile and let Louis lead him to the outside, where a garden overtakes the place and a table is set-up right in the middle just for such occasions. 

He wanted to get a word in, to thank for his hospitality or try to make small chit-chat and avoid the main issue he was here for, because given the state Louis is in, he knows for sure it’s about you. yet, his phone constantly buzzes, and Louis urges him to check it right as their tea is being prepared.

With a strained smile, he opens his phone, only to predictably be met with hundreds of messages from Jason.  An entire line of typos, all he could comprehend being Jason’s way of trying to control his mixed shocked and annoyance from Louis’ invite. Last messages were more comprehensible, longer and well-thought-out, all begging him to leave the place immediately, or hell, never answer the invite in the first place.

Cameron held back a full sob, it’s way too late to turn back now.

 As the delightful smell of a floral tea wafts through the room, it does little to calm his nerves, and he’s left with this constant uneasiness as he tries to look anywhere but Louis’ eyes.“So, Cameron,”  Louis quickly takes a sip, a frown upon his face as he remembers buying this tea for it was specifically your favourite blend, an irony he could not bear to fathom upon, a heartbreak he’s that he cannot process even one bit longer.”I’ve heard an interesting story from your cousin yesterday,” shit. Cameron is in a losing battle, and he now knows that he must die a silent man, never giving away the location of the hideout. “ care to explain your side of the story?”

“…hah..why not?...” he fiddles with his collar, the clothing on him feeling far too itchy now.

-----

On such a beautiful and quiet beach, one would think peace would be exemplary here. Yet, you are fuming with annoyance and rage as your phone barely functions at all anymore. With your charger now just a few scraps of strings, charging the poor thing was always an impossible task. It was like you were forcing your device to do the worst yoga poses for seven straight hours. Therefore, your phone is slowly trading to a no man’s land. It constantly glitches, fumbles, and automatically turns itself off.  Anytime you restart and turn it on, the batter bar keeps showing a completely different number. You were glad such a thing just happened to your phone and not your laptop, because if that was the case, any contact you had with the outside world would be gone forever.

However, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for not doing anything about this sooner. With your phone now in shambles of what it used to be, you can never go back and save the files you had there or retrieve any lost numbers or accounts. your entire life in the city was in that phone, from socials to photos, stupidly satisfying mobile games and old internet friends you haven't spoken to in months now, all of it was now gone. Though you are still grateful to have left the hellhole of a place, it never meant that you didn’t have at least a few good memories there.

A small stab hits your heart, and you find yourself in a dilemma. Are you a fool? Must you pick a world and stick to it and never look back?

This freedom you have feels great, it feels cathartic even, yet, you still find yourself often missing the small things you had in that past life.With how much your mind has been processing your childhood, you’ve been feeling an ache for the small things in life. your mother’s brownies…her teasings and banter with your father in the rare times they did get along..her soothing lullabies that she;d sing to you when you had a nightmare-

You freeze up for a moment. Wait.

God, did you miss your mother of all people?

The urge to facepalm was increasing by the second, your mind now berating you for even thinking about missing a mother like her. nevertheless, your feeling’s were evident. Even after all this dread she;s giving you, all those depressing nights where you considered your own worth, you still ache for the little love she has shown you. Sometimes, in your imaginative mind, you always thought she’d one day look at newspaper tabloids talking about your infamous adventures and say how proud she was of you to all her friends. In your child years where responsibilities were simpler and expectations were far less heavy, you always thought that you’d become a great adventurer and Louis a great businessman, he always claimed that it was his dreams to be the person that makes his parents proud. A sentiment that always felt off to you. you would even sketch out your ideas, show them to your family excitedly and claiming you want to show it to Louis too in the next playdate. These claims didn’t sit well with your mother, as she always coaxed you into leaving them at home for next time, not to tell Louis or anyone else in his family about the matter, because you want it to be a surprise, don’t you? speaking about the art piece would only ruin the amazement they’d feel in the next play date! So never bring it, only do so when mother mentions it.

You’re sure the drawings are up in the attic somewhere, collecting dust with all your other plastic and paper companions you’ve made and talked with over the years, alone in your room unless Louis called. Alone, cold and murmuring your words, not wanting to wake anyone’s attention to your fantasy filled world, full of friends and companions that you held dear, all whom in your teenage and adut life in the city have become w withering memory, yet now, you find yourself remembering a bit more details about them with each passing day. There was the adventurer whom you loved her book and always imagined yourself as her little sister, one cartoon character known to be a grouchy old man with a soft heart whom you’ve always seen as a father figure and—

PLANK!!!

Pain and shock all hit you at once as your head falls face first to the sand below you, a pained cry emitting from you as the banging pain of whatever metal material that has hit your head now takes over your mind. Now, you could only hear two, robotic-like voices, one more wise while the other a bit more goofy and high-pitched. They walk- more like hover- to your line of sight, the presumably red one- you guessed, for your eyesight was now becoming blurry by the second- glancing to your eyes and jolting a bit in shock.

“It seems like she’s still awake.” He tells his yellow, more cubic friend. One whose holding a metal bat with a familiar logo on it. “Cubot, hit her one more time with the bat, but try not to lead into any injuries. Her head is more fragile than ours.”

You couldn’t help but give a strained giggle, startling them both. “..cubot…” you give a small chuckle. “…very….. fitting…”at this point, your mind was becoming far too sleepy to understand even the smallest grains of the sand beneath you, let alone what their exact conversation was about. Something about this loss of senses and eyesight only individualising things by color left you in a state of déjà vu. Only now, the sun isn’t as blazing as it was before, but a cold wind made you flinch.

The yellow one seems to have heard your almost inaudible words, scratching his head with a confused gaze. “really? I always thought my name was ironic. Because I’m the more orb-shaped between the two of us.”

The red one looked at him in disbelief. A blur of stuttered and confused words leave him as he finds himself trying to process the ludicrous thoughts of his friend, all while trying to find the best way to explain in the simplest way possible how his claims are utterly false- yet he gives up mid-second, sighs and just stares at you disappointed, as if he’s seen this scene before and he’s experiencing his own déjà vu as well.

“let’s just…hurry and get this human to Dr.Eggman.” he points to your forehead. “ go on, hit her again with the bat.”

As if to mock you, which a part of you thinks that’s not it, the yellow bot hits the bat a few times on the palm of his hand before bringing it to the top of his head. You quickly close your eyes, swiftly feeling the impact—everything around you fades to black.

-----

You’ve always loved your mother.

Sure, she could be quite annoying at times- her hypocrisy was always a huge problem. Her constant need to make every issue and problem someone else’s fault always made you feel bitter, and her love for you has always felt…conditional.

If you’ve done everything you’re told, if you followed every rule and replied with ‘yes mother’ to every command, she’d adore you to the moon and back and call you her special beautiful girl. However, falter even once, break something or deny an order and you were met with a scowl and a judgemental stare for every action you made, every breath you took and every laugh you had.

You don’t think your mother ever wanted you.

From the moment you were born, you were made to entertain. The very reason of your birth, as your parents often claimed, was because Jason wanted a sibling, because their favorite boy was lonely.

You never really knew how your mother truly felt about you. Like any other parent, she’d claim she loved you, and only wanted what was best for you. to the point where she’d make you abandon all dreams and quirks of yours to fit into the standard she wanted you to be, the person she believed you must be.

There were times where you truly did feel that love, where you’d both laugh about what you did at school, or when yoi both would drink tea and gossip about your dad’s side of relatives. Sometimes, she’d see you and have the urge to hug, claiming she just loved you so much, the very thought of you being her child made her happy. Whenever you were injured or bloodied up, your mother would be panicking and hugging you for dear life, giving you a bountiful amount of love and attention you’d rarely feel from her in normal circumstances.

…there were times where you injured yourself on purpose, just so you could feel her worry. Feel her love. Feel her care.

They say that a mother’s love is unconditional, that no matter what, your mother would always love and adore you. but that was never the case with your  mother. The love you wanted to receive always had a price, always had a condition. And the reason for it is quite simple.

Your mother may love you.

 but she never liked you.

That, is the difference she had with other mothers. Mothers like spending time with their child. They like the child’s personality, hopes and dreams. They can imagine in another universe being their age and becoming their friend. Your mother was never like that. For you are the complete opposite of who she was. and she couldn’t tolerate that. She couldn’t ever accept that.

You often wonder if you’ve gotten the daydreaming side of you from your mother. A side she must be too embarrassed to discuss, because you swear that your mother had already made up a personality for you inside her head right before you were even born. She must’ve been daydreaming about a best friend's daughter, a girl that will help her dear mommy in any way she can and tries to make schedules and routines similar to her. She dreamed about having  a mini-me around. She wanted to raise her childhood self, give the love and support she never had as a child and live life bi-curiously through you.

But it failed. You were a failure. You were born a failure.

Something about that makes your heart ache.

The more memories that flash through your mind, the more you wish to escape your dreams and finally wake up. yet you’re stuck, paralyzed within this state of subconsciousness as more bitter memories flashed through you and more claims are made.

Then, suddenly, a horrid smell fills your nostrils and the world flashes white.

----

“*cough cough* GAH- that smell is disgusting!” a gurgle-like, constantly prideful and annoyed voice rings through your ears. “ I told you to just aim at her, not at me you fool!”

“Sorry boss, but you were kinda right beside her.” A goofier voice said.

“well couldn’t you just tell me?! was it that hard to just tell me to scooch away a little?!” your senses were slowly coming back to you, your mind still in a bit of  a haze. Once more all you see is colors. Shades of red and yellow all around you. with specks of white blending the background.

“but..you said to not talk to you until you’ve finished your villainess monologue to the captor.” It is now you finally regain sight and can fully see who's speaking. It was Cubot, holding what seems to be a gun and a sprinkler attached together.

“and what are you doing right now?” the man beside you, Eggaman, threatened.

“uh….” Cubot looks quiet for a moment, a finger under his chin as he genuinely thinks and contemplates about the question. “..not not talking?”

Eggman’s annoyed face just somehow deepens in its wrinkles and frowns as he facepalms. An angered and exhausted groan comes out of him as he looks at the two bots. “Just shut it and let me do my evil monologue in peace! “ he then sighed. “God, it’s like I have to do everything myself here!” he then turns back and faces the red one, which if you remember,is named Orbot. “ You! go fetch me my hot cocoa!”

“uh…sir..we’re out of hot cocoa powder.” Orbot worriengl;y replied.

“WHAT?! What do you mean we’re out?!—“

As Eggman starts another parade of enraged rambles to the bots, it’s at this time you decide to finally shake up the exhaustion in your mind and comprehend you surroundings. You try to wriggle your body, yet you found your hands tied to the back. great. Just fucking fantastic.

Moreover, there seems to be a barrier around you, a sort of laser-cage that ensures you don’t move an inch from the circle that’s deemed your prison. The room around you is strange, yet awfully intriguing. A house in pure white. Fitting for a scientist, you guessed. Though it was at that moment you remembered that Eggman was technically a robotist- not a scientist. So truly, the house being ensnared in white seems a little jarring. With how there was nothing but a work desk towards your left, a mixture of tools,gadgets  and blueprints cluttering the entire walls of the room, you guessed you’re at his workshop.

You look back at Eggman, who was still scolding the two now shaking bots like he doesn’t have a captor to attend to right now. with a clear of your throat, you grab the group’s attention and parepare your voice to sound unwavering and unbothered, because truly, you didn’t feel much fear anymore around Eggman’s presence. Sure you were a bit worried about his new plan, but from all the stories you heard about his silly antics and your previous interactions ending in his failure, you didn’t feel much threatened by him anymore.

“um..excuse me but- can I ask why I’m being kidnapped?”  you asked. “follow-up question- “ an unknown confidence blurred into you. where it came from, you’re unsure, but you couldn’t help but grin. “Can I have some hot cocoa too? I’ve been craving something sweet for a while now.” a hot cocoa will never beat your mother’s brownies, you knew that. But it didn’t hurt to quench such a craving with another chocolatey sweet treat.

Orbot’s robotic faces somehow switched from neutral to excited as his hands clasped together in delight.”oh why of course! How would you like your hot cocoa? With marshmallows? Candy canes? Oh oh! maybe T-AaaAAH-“

Eggman suddenly  shoves Orbot away, quickly taking his rolling chair and sitting on it with a dramatic, villainy pose. He tries to ignore the pained groans Orbot gave or the clack and clatter of the items around him that fell into disarray as he shoved Orbot away.

He starts off with a prideful, villainous laughter. “We meet again, Doctor.” You couldn’t but hold back a smile, amused on how Sonic’s nickname for you is slowly spreading around the island. It’s nice to have the power to gloat your doctorate without lifting a finger or uttering a word. “ How foolish of you to let your guard down when your little miss ‘fuzzy puppies' partner—” he does a ‘quote on quote' hand gesture. His brows soon furrow and he looks at you with deep offense. “—which by the way, was my fuzzy puppies partner first—” he couldn’t help but mention. “—is out of town for the whole weekend.”

“Are your attacks always this frequent?” you couldn’t help but ask. “don’t you think it’s best to take time creating a plan first for a month or two and then attack?”

Eggman stills quiet for a moment, as if he’s truly considering your question. “And why would I do that?” he countered. “ It's my job to be a constant fear and menace! It’s all in the villain’s code of honor.��� He suddenly puts one hand on his chest and the other high-up. “I vowed to destroy everything on sight, to be at present in the news columns at least thrice a month,to see my plans come to fruition as the world around me burns.” In this moment, your mind entertained a thought of a national-villain themed anthem of sorts playing behind him, all while his signature eggman logo was placed on a flag and flying with the soaring winds.

“…but…wouldn’t it give you more time to plan your evil schemes?” you shuffled a bit, trying to gain a more comfortable position even with the laser-like handcuffs limiting your movement. “ like- you could plan more than just another bot attack-you can even have more time to build more complicated robots! I mean- the first one I saw was a pretty strong one. But it probably took a long time to make, right?”

Orbot looked at Cubot with utter confusion. “Is she seriously giving her captor advice?”

Cubot shrugged.“Maybe we hit her on the head too hard?”

“SHUT IT YOU TWO! Can’t you see that I’m having a serious conversation with a fellow doctor?! Go get those hot cocoas ready already!”

With the shout startling both bots, they scurry away to the kitchen. Eggman quickly grabs a pen and paper and eagerly awaits for your input. “Now tell me, what did you think of my last attack at the village?”

---

Despite the shift of attitude with Eggman was a bit amusing, you still tred carefully when expressing your opinions on his previous attack. You made sure to add in advice,but nothing too specific that he could use to ruin the entire village with. It was simple things like attack in open areas next time, or don’t just bring laser-shooting bots in a street fight. Get a bit creative, make-up new bots rather than constantly fixing the old ones.

“Do you know how much money that would cost me?” he grumbled, notebook in hand. “Villainy isn’t cheap, you know.”

“then…how did you get all of this?” you look around the room, fidgeting a bit as you try to adjust your posture in this tied up position. “I’m pretty sure most of the items here cost even more than a few simple bot-making materials…”

Cubot suddenly chimes in. “Oh! we actually bought all of these second hand from villai-“ he’s quickly hit in the head by Eggman, whom was looking at him with warning. “…nevermind.”

“don’t listen to his prattle.” Eggman advised, then he groaned like a tired father. “I may have forgotten to place a few screws in this one’s head when I was making him.”

You felt pity for Cubot, his naivety reminding you a bit of yourself when you were younger. But then again, memory lane has been a horrid bitch to you ever since you got to this island, and you’re finding every little thing to be a reminder of your past. Cubot is now becoming one of them.

“my point still stands.”  You look back at Eggman. “your attacks are becoming way too boring.”

Eggman merely grumbles in annoyance, notebook slammed to the table and arms crossed like a moody child. An awkward silence takes over the room for a moment, making you realize just how uncomfortable your body was getting from being tied up for so long. then, Eggman gives another annoyed grumble and rolls his chair to meet Orbot.

“has he answered yet?!”

Orbot taps a few buttons on the phone, waiting in the line for a moment before sighing and shaKing his head no. Eggman’s brows furrow, he gets up and takes the phone from him and urgently taps the buttons on the phone with much more strength than Orbot has. His foot taps impatiently on the ground as the phone dials.

“ Hey Sonic! I don’t know where you are right now, “ he raised a brow. “probably taking a nap. But in any case- guess what?” he brings the phone to your vicinity, expecting you to say something on the phone. Instead, you gave him a mischievous smirk and then blew raspberries.

“w-what?! No!!!—“ Eggman’s eyes flared up in anger as he looked at you baffled. He then grumbled to himself, nodding and looking at you with annoyance and..a bit impressed. “well played…well played.” He brings the phone up to his ear again. “that wasn’t me by the way. I kidnapped that rebellious human as payback for the humiliation she brought on to me.” he then looks at you. “a payback that will be much harsher now that she has also ruined what was supposed to be a threatening call!” oh well, it was absolutely worth it. you couldn't help but give him a rebellious grin.  “Anyways, I hope this message finds you terribly, “ he hums. “goodbye.”

“Is that how you end every call?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“only when calling my enemies. For fellow comrades, I say ‘I hope this message finds you in an evil-scheming state.’”

“that’s quite the mouthfull..” you mentioned..

“It's the villain code.” He merely shrugged. “ You should see the villainous messages they send me and then judge.” He huffed in annoyance.

“wait a second---“ you looked at him in disbelief. “you…have contact with other villains?”

“What, you thought I was the only being looking for absolute dark control over this Island?” he scoffed.you do remember Tails talking about there being others when you first got here. “ Of course there are other villains. None are as great as me though.”

“no-I know that. I’m just…shocked that you guys like—contact each other. Shouldn’t you all be rivals?”

“We are but…uh..” he scratched his cheek for a moment, trying to find a way to explain it to your non-evil-scheming mind. “think of it..as a classroom.” He continued. “We all have the same enemy.”

“the teacher?”

He hums in delight. “correct! And we all need to beat the teacher by?...” he awaits your answer, acting like a teacher himself. A teacher for villainy. The thought makes you chuckle.

“uh…” you think for a moment, shuffling uncomfortably as the ropes on your wrist scratch your skin. At least the conversation with your kidnapper helps you ignore it. Is this what they call Stockholm syndrome? Probably not. “…by…killing the teacher?....” you joked, unsure of what the correct answer truly is.

“yes!” he exclaimed, Orbot and Cubot clapping for you in admiration. Cubot then turns to Orbot. “ She's really good at this. Are we sure she’s not a villain too?”

Orbot looked at him surprised. “did you just….actually ask a good question for once?”

Cubot scratched his metalic head at that, and you wondered, did…robots ever feel itchy?..did they feel any sort of sensations you feel on a day-to-day basis? Or was this all programmed to their brain as a way to imitate human- well, in this case, anthropomorphic—behaviour? Oh my god, are you actually interested in eggman’s work? Are you a villain in the making?

“but you see, you obviously can’t kill your teacher.” He shrugged. “or at least, they tell you you can’t. And so, what do you do? you do what the teacher hates you doing!.”

“fail their class?” you quickly added, but at the same moment, he too, added,“pass their class!!!”

You look at each other in dumbfounded silence.

“what? Are you pulling my leg here?” Eggman grumbled, yet it sounded more confused than angry. “why on earth would they want you to pass their class?”

“because it’s their job??” you pointed out with a huff. “ I mean- think about it- their entire purpose is to help their students pass—why on earth would they seek joy in failing you? If most students of the class fail, then the blame is not put on the students anymore, rather, it’s put on the teacher themselves, and they lose their job.”

Another eerie silence takes the room, and you’re left with an utterly dumbfounded and shocked eggman, processing the information you gave him.

“did she just….tell us that we’re….we’re actually…” Cubot looked at Orbot in horror. Orbot hesitated, yet turned around to him and soon replied. “..that…we’re actually..helping Sonic be a hero?....”

Your eyes go widened as well, suddenly realizing the simple infodump you just uttered was in fact, the most earth-shattering information they have ever received. To them, this simple flaw in comparison is worse than the curse of Ra itself. A curse that, you’re very certain they’ll bestow upon you now, if given the chance.

Both you, Orbot and Cubot look at eggman in concern, waiting to see what his reaction would be. And yet, he stands frozen, his brows still up in shock and his mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t see behind his glasses, but you were certain his eyes were as wide as saucers now. He stayed like that for an excruciatingly long minute, and Orbot, all while clutching Cubot fearfully, quickly speaks up. “um….Dr.Eggman?....are you…alright?..”

He doesn’t give any response, something that concerns you all even more than before.

“should we dispose of her?” Cubot asked in concern, all while hiding behind Orbot.

“honestly?” you sighed. “I…wouldn’t blame you for that.” It was deserved, really. If you were told that you were actually aiding your mortal nemesis rather than destroying, you’d want to kill the fucker who told you that too.

However, eggman still stayed silent. He soon took a deep breath, his face turning into a deep frown as he turned around and walked to the telephone once more. He clicks a few buttons, then taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the dial to go in message mode.

“hello, Sonic, it’s me again, Dr.Eggman.” he starts formally. “GET YOUR PATHETIC BLUE SELF RIGHT HERE THIS INSTANT BEFORE I EXERCISE THIS…THIS DEVIL UP TO SMITHEREENS!!!” You all flinch and wince at the sudden bang in your eardrums. Yep, this is how you die. By giving the man you kidnapped you an existential crisis and making him think you’re the devil. You hoped Satan would at least give you a high-five for that on your way in. “get here NOW or else!” he quickly slams the phone back in its place, making you all flinch. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “you..you’re…” he wheezes out, shoulders slouching. “you’re somehow more evil than I am!” he said in a dramatic and slightly fearful tone. “How can you do it so easily?”

You shrugged, despite everything, amusement courses within you. It's impressive how much more confident you’ve gotten these past few weeks. You wonder if it’s because you’ve been surrounded by utterly confident and fearless people. “ It's all from my trauma, I think.”

“ah, so you’re a future serial killer in the making.” Orbot said in the most informative tone ever, a complete opposite energy of the thing he just implied. “fascinating, do you perchance also kill animals for fun?”

You look at him dumbfounded. “…I’m a vet, Orbot.”

“so?” he hummed, and you swore he was a bit amused by this. “ even doctors can be serial killers.”

“I’m done with the conversation now.” you sighed, not wanting to implicate yourself in such a dark light. And yet, they didn’t seem to take the hint. And whether it was for their evil amusement or general lack of intelligence, you were unsure.

“But, let's say you did have the ability to kill someone and get away with it.” cubot chimed. “Who would you choose?”

Eggman, who was distracting himself with some blueprints, also stopped what he was doing, apparently curious for your answer as well. they all awaited eagerly as you hesitated in your reply, in deep thought.

“uh…no one?” you huffed.

“seriously?” Cubot asked, a mix of shock and annoyance in his voice. “there’s not even one person you hate?”

“Well…” you considered things for a moment. What if you had the chance to kill louis? You do hate him for what he;s done. Maybe seeing him dead wouldn’t be so bad. And yet, as soon as you thought of that, the very idea of making him disappear from the world, you remembered the gleam of hope in his eyes, his sheepish smiles and his dumb jokes, his dorky interests, his desperate need to wins everyone’s approval, his desperate thirst for affection. Your heart aches.”…no, not really.” You could never do it. you could never do that to anyone. Not even Louis Clement.

Eggman groaned at that, rolling his eyes. “ So that's why you’re not a serial killer or genius villain.” He muttered to himself. “You care too much. You’re..emotional.” he gagged at the word, apparently sickened by the very concept of it.

“…nothing wrong about caring.” You muttered, your heart in a heap of swirling emotions you can’t comprehend. Eggman rolled his eyes at that. “There's nothing wrong with drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth either…but it still tastes terrible and makes you feel awful, doesn’t it?” he jabbed back.

“..comparing matters of the heart to something as simple as the rules of eating is ridiculous.” You huffed, now a bit offended to have your emotional state be compared to something like that. I mean, truly, what’s the problem with being emotional? Of choosing heart over logic?

“but it’s not wrong.” He continued to jab, shrugging playfully. “ There's nothing wrong with comparing things to food.” He mocked,his evil chuckle further adding more salt to the wound.

With an annoyed frown and grumble, you let the conversation end there, too tired and quite frankly, too hungry to continue this any longer. Soon, your stomach rumbles as your nose catches the scent and aroma of the ever-calming and delightful sweet treat, coco.

“The hot cocoas are ready!” Orbot exclaimed in excitement and delight, reminding you of a mother on christmas night.

Eggman clapped his hands in excitement as he took a mug from the trey, drinking the hot chocolate and sighing in satisfaction. He then snaps his fingers. “Cubot! Take a mug and hold it out for our capture over here.”

Cubot, despite his robotic face, somehow frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. You marveled a bit at how expressive eggman’s creations can get. “Why am I always the one who has to feed the kidnapped?”

“because you can’t even make a simple sandwich.” Orbot countered back with a sigh.his voice then got tinged with a bit of pride. “…let alone masterfully brew a relaxing cup of cocoa.”

“lEt alOnE MastERfuLLY BrEw A ReAlAxINg cUp OF cOaCoa.” Cubot mocked in a whiny voice, annoying Orbot in the process. He then groans, grabbing the mug from the trey and holding it out to your tiny circle-cell, immune to the laser around it, it seems.

You look at the hot cocoa suspiciously, giving a glare to eggman. “this isn’t drugged, is it?”

Eggman looks at you with disgust and offense. “ I’m a villain, not a monster.”

“…fair.” You hummed, giving a shrug, which further annoy your constrained wrists into pressure as you edge a tiny bit closer to the laser cell, Cubot’s hand reached out for the mug to reach your vicinity. You wait for moment for it to cool down, blowing on it a bit to somehow wipe away the steam that was pouring out of it. yet of course, it was to no luck, the steam was never-ending, and despite your better judgement, you take a sip, and soon, your taste buds get greeted to the sweetness of cacao and milk…mixed with….garlic?

Eggman gives a hearty chuckle as you spit out the drink, coughing a bit in shock, your tastebuds practically screaming in horror of the cacophony of flavors. “Still evil though.” He chimed, grinning triumphantly while you gave him a glare.

With a horrible lasting taste of cocoa now invading your tongue, you merely grumble as you zone out, letting your kidnappers chatter amongst themselves as you look at the clock, eyeing the ticking minutes and seconds, wondering where on earth Sonic could be.

It’s embarrassing, really, how much you rely on Sonic and the others’ aid when it comes to Eggman. Surely, you can’t expect them to always be there, right? a pang of guilt runs through you. you’re a deadweight to them, aren’t you? the damsel in distress, god, the thought of it makes you cringe and want to jump off the summit of the volcano. You really need to learn how to fight, or at least, learn self-defense.  But would that even work against someone like eggman, who has an army of bots always swarming the opponents?

Would you ever be good enough to fight alongside team Sonic?

----

Jason punched Cameron in the face.

he immediately cursed, spilling out a mouthful of ‘sorry’s as he helps a wincing Cameron get back up, immediately checking his face and frowning at the blooming red spot on his cheek now. “shit— Cameron, I don’t know what got over me—just—“ he tries to take a deep breath, trying to control the utter panic, terror and rage that was coursing through him. his rage, though unfortunately befallen onto Cameron, wasn’t directed at that poor soul at all. Louis fucking Clement on the other hand, can eat shit.

“no, no, I deserved that.” Cameron groaned in pain, rubbing his cheek to try to soothe the throb. “…I almost fucked everything up.”

“almost.” Jason sighed,tapping his fingers on the table. Brianna’s café feels awfully empty without the utter awkwardness and ‘I’ll-try-my-best-but-you-know-I’ll-somehow-fuck-something-up’ attitude Y/n always had here. he’s been avoiding coming here, for more reasons than just missing his dumb sibling’s presence. Hell, he used to act like he didn't know nor was he related to Y/n whenever she worked here. it’s always been this way. He always acted like they were entirely different people of their own, that their life doesn’t and should not coincide much with one another. it’s what helped him gain independence. It's what helped Y/n gain independence.

‘…maybe a little too much independence.’ He sighed at his thought. After all, only a maniac with no consideration for her family would immediately pack up her bags and run away to a stranded island, leaving her older brother to pick up the mess.

‘….but who drove her to that point?’ is a question that runs through his head day and night, a question he always throws away and tries to ignore how much it gnaws at his brain, eager to answer, yet too afraid to hear it. he shakes his head, taking a deep breath and looking at the now adjusted, yet still a bit in pain Cameron. “…so what did you tell him?”

“utter bullshit.” He huffed,thanking a waitress as she brought him a pack of ice, giving a warning glance to Jason to not lead this to a fight unless he wants to get kicked out. he straightens up a bit in slight alarm, holding his head down respectfully like a soldier. Cameron continued. “told him I took the yacht myself for a ride and broke it, now I owe my cousin a new one.”

“Did he ask anything else?”

“asked about my relationship with you.” he shrugged. “told him I only knew you in highschool.” Jason nods at that, giving out a sigh of relief. Louis suspicions may grow because of this, but at least he’s farther from the truth now. a deafening silence falls upon them. Soon, Cameron looks over to Jason curiously.

“so….what happened to her?” there was a hint of worry in his voice. a hint of guilt over everything. “Is she safe?”

Jason hesitates to answer, tapping his foot nervously. “define safe.”

“…oh god.” Cameron rubs his temples, his worry now evident. He takes off his glasses in stress, as if he doesn’t want to see Jason’s face right now, nor does he want to see anything clearly.

“she’s fine- don’t worry.” Jason quickly added, trying to ease his distress. “just…in a weird place.”

“where?”

“…you won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Jason,” Cameron looks at him with a deadpan expression. “I believe that there were anthropomorphic beings living with us in ancient times. Nothing can shock me.”

Suddenly, something in Jason’s mind rings, as if a lightbulb has flickered on top of his head as he looks at Cameron with franatic realisation, his posture straightening, eyes quickly skimming to see if anyone is paying attention to them before landing back on Cameron again, leaning a tiny bit closer as he mutters. “….what did you say those beings were called again?”

-----

The voice of cheers invaded the living room’s space, Eggman sat on his red couch, his ‘evil tea’ in hand. (his words, not yours. When asked what makes it so evil he said it was made with children’s tears and the leaves of poison ivy. You weren’t sure if he was messing with you or not. What made it more comical was that his mug was red, and his logo on it with devil horns.) Cubot and Orbot sat on the ground, you being between them. Since the hours of afternoon passed by with no Sonic nor even Knuckles and Tails in sight, Eggman decided to change the location of your imprisonment to somewhere more stimulating. Not for you, of course, but for him. he did consider leaving you here with the watchful gaze of his bots, but that soon changed when Cubot started picking at his own wires again and glitching, all while bumping into Orbot and making him fall, oil in his hands pouring to his circular head, then somehow Cubot bumping onto the counter, flicking the blowtorch and lighting Orbot’s head on fire.

Now, the slightly smoked bot was wiping the remaining cinder off his head, his expression, though limited, showing his discontempt. Orbot was happily watching the television as well, all while a bowl of snacks was in hand and trying to feed you. You were way too embarrassed by the notion, and though you were starving, you refused to get fed like that, remaining uncomfortably tied and still as you tried to distract your mind with the blaring lights on screen. Though the universe loved having you as its jester, fate still seemed to be on your side, helping you keep your promise to Amy by making Eggman watch Comedy Chimp.

After saying some rather dry yet unproblematic jokes, all while showing bloopers of the different residents of the island making ‘silly’ mistakes, the talk show host, Chimp, finally says something worth your attention. “Today, we have an incredibly special guest. Someone pink,someone heroic,” then, he put one of his hands up as if he was telling you a secret. “someone who might be a certain bluey’s girlfriend.” The crowd gives a resounding, choreographed ‘oooohh’ as Chimp winks mischievously, you couldn’t help but feel second hand embarrassment for Amy. “ladies and gentlemen let's give a warm welcome to Amy Rose!” the crowd cheers once more as she enters the stage, and you couldn’t help but proudly smile. Amy seemed a little annoyed, but she smiled politely to everyone, all while giving a glare to Chimp. “for the record,” she says as she sits down. “I am not Sonic’s girlfriend. And even if I was, that is not my entire personality.”

Chimp gives a hearty, professional laugh, looking at Amy with a half-assed apologetic glance. “Sorry ma’am, what can I say, I’m a sucker for gossip.” The crowd laughs with him, and Amy seemingly tries to hold back the urge to roll her eyes.

“So, Amy, tell me, how ya been?” Chimp leans in a bit closer, an act to show the audience he’s somewhat interested in what she has to say, and yet, his tone seemed off to you.

Despite that, Amy’s eyes shine with excitement, her posture straightening up a bit and giddy obvious in her grin. “well, you see Chimp, I’ve been getting very into interior design lately, and—“

“---yeah yeah that’s interesting and all,” Chimp immediately cuts her off with a wave of his hand, a flash of boredom held on his gaze, one that soon reverts back into the welcoming façade before anyone else could notice. “But I mean what’s going on with you.”

“um..” Amy gives a nervous laugh. “..excuse me?”

“oh come on, you know!” he then starts counting with his fingers. “unrequited love, roommate with a  horrendous being,” you choked on air on that one, shock, amusement and horror all going through you at once. Eggman however bolts out laughing, slapping his lap alongside it. “ your restaurant business going to shambles…I mean, it’s been quite the few weeks for ya, hasn’t it missy?”

“First of all, do not call me missy.” Amy growled, her rage now fully evident. while she was sitting poised and calm, her firsts were clenched, her eyes glaring daggers at the host. You admire how she’s trying to control her temper even when faced with such public humiliation,had it been you, you would’ve pounced at the monkey and punched him to death.”Second of all, Sonic and I are not dating. And we never have. And I have a life outside of him, so you better stop associating every little thing I do to him!” she practically screams the last part, you were certain she wanted to say this sentence for a very, very long time. Much longer than when this interview was scheduled. “Third of all,” her right eye twitches. “don’t you ever, and I mean EVER call my friend a ‘horrendous being.’ever.again—“ she then points to him threateningly. “—unless you want a good smack with my hammer for it!”

Chimp gets taken aback, holding his hands up in defense as he gives a nervous laugh. “Woah there Miss-er…Madame Rose,” he gives a strained, stressed smile. “I’m just speaking for the public here— I merely ask what the audience, both here and at home, want to ask you themselves.”

“oh really?” She questions, then looks at the camera scornfully. “Well if that’s the case then, why don’t you cowards come and say it to my face?!” you swore you could hear Sticks cheering her from behind the scenes. A sense of pride washes over you, and unconsciously, your once solemn and curious expression at the start of the show has become one of enjoyment and pride. Chimp taps something in his ear, listening closely before a grin covers his once serious face. “Well then, you heard her folks!” he quickly yells, stealing everyone’s attention as Amy looks at him confused. “both the audience here and the ones at home, why don’t ya give us a call right now and ask your questions?” The crowd cheers once more, giving positive astonishment to the sudden idea, all while Amy looks at them all dumbfounded, soon then grumbling from embarrassment and sitting back down, looking at Chimp judgmentally.

“What does live mean?” Cubot points to the watermark on the top right of the screen.

“it's pronounced ‘lay-ive’ not ‘lee-ve’.” Orbot replied, yet before he could continue, cubot gasped.  “you mean the TV is ALIVE?!” as Cubot smacks his head in shock, Orbot smacks his own head in disappointment.

The more questions popped, the more furious you got. Every single resident has been asking obscenely personal or arbitrary questions, further adding to Amy’s humiliation. You wanted to do something, you had to do something. You can’t just idly sit by (well, kidnappedly -if that even is a word- sit by) and let them ridicule your friend like this, not when she stood up for you.

“Eggman,” you sighed. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“I’m sorry, do you think you’re a house guest here?” Eggman looked at you mockingly. “Do you really think I do favors for my prisoners?”

“I’m not asking as a prisoner,” you countered. “I ask as a fellow doctor and…” your eyes lit up in quick realization, further adding,” as a fellow fuzzy puppies player.”

He raised a brow, crossing his arms and humming thoughtfully. “go on.”

----

‘It is un-lady like to kill someone with your bare hands on live tv.’

That is the sentence that was constantly echoing through Amy’s mind, holding her rage in a tight disciplinary grip, her hands almost ripping her clothes to shred with the sheer grip she has on them.

Is this truly her legacy? She couldn’t help but think. Is this what all her efforts winded up to? all this time spent on being true to herself, on mastering every skill she admired, all for it to be tied to the stereotypical beliefs of hers that she was constantly running from? Amy was enraged, she wanted to scream, to show them how mad she can get, how easily she can cause a wreckage of chaos with no one being able to stop her fury. And she was certain that Sticks was rooting for her to do exactly that. Burn the set down, smash everything up with your decorated hammer.

But, once again, the sentence echoed. Amy Rose was a lady. She was not a brutish man whom only speaks with their fists, even Knuckles, despite all his stupidity that comes from choosing brawn over brain, still is a gentleman when he wants to be. He still holds enough respect and honor to others that he doesn’t go smashing everything just because he feels like it. He is no brutish man, he was a honourable fighter. Sticks, despite all her ludicrous actions, always has the island’s best interest at heart, and yes maybe she did bite some civilians and possibly gave them rabies but— she still did it as a way of protecting the island, to save the most people she can. She is the reason why the jungle is so rich and luxurious, why it’s still alive and hasn’t fallen prey to the industrial, money hungry hands of businessmen like Chimp. In truth, this is who Chimp is. Not a comedian, not a celebrity, not a host, but a businessman. He follows trends, found a solution to a problem, and has made money off of it. People were craving a talk show of their own ever since seeing one in the abandoned cartoon tapes they found at sea, and Chimp provided them with this service.

Yes, everyone has a role here. Everyone has a part to play, and therefore, Amy can’t break away from her script, even if she wanted to. She needed to act poised and well-mannered. She needed to be a lady.

But god did she really wanna punch Chimp right now.

As more questions came and the more snarky yet polite answers she gave, she was beginning to feel a deep sorrow within her. A sense of hopelessness in the moment. Are all her efforts that unappreciated? Is no one ever going to appreciate the hard work she puts into everything she does? What's the point of doing them if no one will be grateful?

“Our next caller’s name is…Y/n L/n. take it away Y/n, ask Missy over here your inquistive question!” her eyes snap open wide from the mention of her name. Amy’s ear quickly sharpens, giving the camera a dumbfounded glance.

“Thank you, jackass.” Your amused voice goes through the speakers, and a sense of relief, amusement and excitement went through Amy’s heart, her once embarrassed gaze now filled with a sense of admiration, all topped off with a grin as she sees the befuddled expression Chimp wears, all while the audience laughs at the caller’s sheer audacity. “Lady Rose,” you start off, treating Amy with much more respect than Chimp, which makes him pout like an angry child. “ you mentioned something about ‘Interior design’ at the start of the show…well, you see, I have this amazing roommate. She has the best goddamn taste in the world. in fashion, paintings and even interior design, she has shown me the sheer beauty that can be seen in even the most mundane of things…I’m gonna get a treehouse soon and, I really, really wanna impress her…so do you have any good tips I could use?”

Amy couldn’t help but let out a huff of astonishment, looking at the camera gratefully, as if she was looking at you only. She gives a small smile, nods her head and leans back in the chair. “Of course, Y/n. I’ll tell you all you need to know…”

Seeing this as a golden opportunity, Sticks hijacked the technical department of the show, threatening or tying up anyone who tried to kick her out, all while keeping you on call with Amy. The show ended in Amy rambling on and on about her business, the audience finally taking her seriously and asking questions of their own, and soon, the once ridiculing and boring talk show has become some sort of a ted talk for Amy Rose, her dream come true.

------

The night was spent in a terrible, ache-filled sleep. And as you woke up with the worst bed-head known to man, you felt a bit dreadful at the fact that there was still no blue speedy in sight. Eggman, however, was blazing with utter fury, muttering curses to Sonic under his breath as he angrily tapped his telephone, leaving his hundredth voice message to him.

With a bit of a drowsy mind, your thoughts drift curiously into a territory you hadn't thought of before, and soon, you bite the bullet and shoot through the silence. “…how did you get here?”

“by walking up the stairs, obviously.” Eggman grumbled, eyes still glued to the telephone. You give a disgruntled hum at that.

“No..I mean…” you look at him as earnestly as you could. “How did you get here? on this island?”

Eggman froze, the dial soon forgotten as his head snapped back to you, a contemplative expression on his face. “…I…” his tone indicated that he wanted to start his story with utter confidence, to explain an epic tale of a villainous scheme, yet, his tone faltered mid-way, as his brows furrowed and his once manically excited grin turned to a befuddled frown. “…don’t remember..” he muttered as if it was more of a question for himself rather than an answer to yours. “ ..I believe I was..on my ship…yes, I woke up on my ship, and found myself here…” he then gives a thoughtful hum. “strange…how come I can’t remember how I got here?...” he then races to his computer, tapping his fingers away as his eyes scan the screens. You’re not sure what he’s exactly searching for, but, if you were a strange scientist who found themselves on a lost island, the first thing you’d do was look at security tapes within that very ship to see what exactly happened. You guessed Eggman was doing just that. “…nothing…” he gave a hum of displeasure, giving the screen a puzzled look. He sits quiet for a moment, but then shakes his head and waves his hands at you. “it doesn’t matter-“ he quickly dismissed. A little too quick for your taste. “all you need to know is that I got here to conquer the Island, and that petulant hedgehog you call a ‘friend’ is in my way.”

“but…why do you want to conquer the island?”

Eggman gives a pleased hum to your question, tapping a red button on his keyboard. “I thought you’d never ask!” he said in a sweetly villainous tone, sounds of machines clanking and engines running roar at the insides of the counter, which soon slid inside and came back up with… a mock-up mini version of an amusement park?....

“….are you serious?” you looked at him in utter disbelief and quite frankly, deep sense of confusion. “you’re…doing all of this to make an amusement park?”

“not just any amusement park.” He mused, taking out a small egg-shaped billboard he had in his pocket this entire time.” Egg-tropolis!” he neatly puts it on the top of the volcano. “a world of egg-tastically fun rides and robotic wonder! Where everything is a goldmine for mone-well…” he clears his throat. “ a gold-mine and safe haven for children! “

“…couldn’t you just…pick another island?” you proposed, and Eggman looked at you disappointed.

“do you truly think I’m dumb enough to not consider that?” Well, you are dumb enough to plan multiple egregious robot attacks on an island with little to no success all for the sake of an amusement park. However, that’s not something you could tell your captor, not unless you wanted to be turned into a robot yourself. Eggman then sighed. “I already tried to leave this place, but there’s some sort of strange barrier trapping us all inside.”

“…what.” You felt a sense of utter dread and confusion go through you. you weren;t even sure why such a fact was so dreadful for you. you never wanted to leave anyway, did you? then why be so glum that the very choice was taken away from you in the first place? “then..how the hell did I get in?”

“that’s the thing.” Eggman grumbled, once again clicking at his keyboard. “the Island lets anybody in, but nobody out. it’s like it locks itself from the outside.”

Strange. This is all too goddamn strange. There's a sense of hesitance and danger in the pits of your stomach, something that tells you the whole thing goes much deeper than a simple, magical and zany coincidence. Whatever it is, it’s..baffling, to say the least. The more you stay in this island, the less you know about it. you give a tired grumble, head falling back to the cold wall behind you as you watch eggman click away,’he’s probably doing something scientific that I’d never be able to comprehend…’

“here are the top ten ways to walk like a villain!” suddenly blares from the computer’s speakers, eggman quickly taking notes.

You hold back your amused huff.’…or…maybe not.’

----

Tick,tock,tick,tock,

The common and oddly comforting sound of the clock echoes through the lab, all of you watching it in boredom, the two robots tired, you uncomfortable, and eggman deeply agitated. As another minute passes by the clock, moving it’s long stick an inch closer, Eggman shoots up in rage. “where in the world is he?!” he groaned. “he should’ve been here yesterday! What, is he too good for me now? am I not a worthy adversary?” with fury bouncing in each step, eggman tears apart some of his blueprints, grabbing a new one and angrily scribbling on it. “I’ll show that pesky bug who exactly he;s ignoring right now—“

A zap of blue passes through you.

Chills run down your spine, a glimmer of hope igniting with your heart, your tired eyes shot up in sheer shock as you look around the room, your anxiety rejoicing and forming into a tranquil song of peace and amusement as you see your favorite speedster.

Sonic huffed in exhaustion, as if he was actually going quicker than he usually was, actually losing his breath from his sheer speed. His eyes quickly scanned across the room, widened and worried. When it finally lands on you, he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.

“took you long enough!” Eggman growled, grabbing a remote control on the table. “Do you know how much my phone bill is gonna cost now?!”

Sonic rolls his eyes,twisting his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. “I’m not the obsessed rival here, Egghead.” He gets into a fighting position. “let go of Y/n and I’ll consider going easy on your toys.”

Eggman’s eyebrows furrowed, head practically turning red in anger as he grumbled. “ They are not toys.” He then points to you. “and for your information, doctor Y/n here had one of the best captive experiences out there. didn’t you, doctor?”

“zero stars.” You immediately replied, Eggman giving you an offended gasp and Sonic grinning mischievously, eyes brimming with amusement. “ The staff kept asking me dumb questions and the room service was shit. My pillow was on the dirty ass floor.”

 “That explains your hair,” Sonic chuckled.

“---again, you’re not a guest here- you’re a captive.” Eggaman countered back, frowning. “you should see how the other villains treat their captives!”

You give Sonic a glare, though there was a playful glint to it. “ Can it, bluey. I’m not the one who's late here.”

“yeah yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I have a good reason for it.” he then grins. “It's one hell of a story. you still up for chilli dogs after this?”

“Don’t try to ignore me!” Eggman yelled in annoyance, clicking the red button on his remote. “Let's see if you can even survive long enough to even see the outside world!”

As an army of bots runs across multiple sections of the room to your space, practically invading the entire laboratory in a defensive position, you look at Sonic sternly, a playful smile on your face. “I want those damn chili dogs, Sonic.”

Sonic snickered, putting his hands on the ground,his spikes igniting in electrical blue as he smirks. “Roger that, doc.”

----

You’re not sure how long the fight took, but you do know it was much less than an hour.

It seems like Eggman has completely forgotten what he wanted to do when Sonic got here, since it took so long for him to do so. Enraged and frazzled, he practically swarmed him with random bullshit hoping it could defeat his enemy, but of course, Sonic could easily speed through each and every bot, attacking them with rolling ease. When the dust settled and the last bot just straight up shut itself down to save the pain of being destroyed by the hero’s high kick, Sonic quickly stole Eggman’s remote and broke it, the lazer barriers of your tiny prison fading, your shoulders relaxin from relief, yet then wincing as the strain of the ropes hit you once more. God, your back will be destroyed from this experience, you just know it.

Sonic quickly unties you and gives you his hand. Your muscles cry out in freedom, a relaxed sigh leaving you as you take his hand to stand up, yet soon wobbling down and getting grabbed by him. your legs were like jelly, shocked by the sudden jolts of movement you’ve done after two straight days of none. Sonic looks at you with a  tinge of worry as you apologize sheepishly, holding onto him for support.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyes raking over your form to look for any injuries. You simply shrugged. “not really…unless you can call a bad cup of hot cocoa an attack.” You tried to joke, to lighten up the quieted mood of the place. Sonic smiled, rolling his eyes as he yoinked you up again, much to your shock.

“You can’t walk, and I can’t for the life of me walk slowly.” He argued before you could even mutter your protest, looking at you with a reassuring smile. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew what he meant. The day you carried him. you look at him playfully annoyed. “ I was returning your favor, idiot.”

“Well, let's just say this is returning the favor.” He shrugged, giving you a wink and grin. You rolled your eyes, giving up and wrapping your arms around his neck. He wanted to soon bolt out the door, yet your tap on his shoulder made him stop and look at you confused. You motioned for him to turn around, your figure not in front of a defeated and annoyed eggman.

“For what it’s worth,” you gave a small smile. “I enjoyed our conversations, Doctor.”

Everyone’s eyes widened, Eggman and Sonic looking at you with disbelief, the latter even more so than the former. Cubot and Orbot gave each other confused shrugs, unsure of what to make of this. Eggman gives a begrudging hum of approval, turning his head away from you both. “…….likewise, I guess.”

You smiled, and with a nod to the speedster, you were quickly ushered out of the infamous Eggman’s house, and saw the sunset cast over the island.

------

“Would you stop looking at me?! I can’t eat when someone’s staring!” you giggled, a wave of embarrassment jittering through you as you locked eyes with the excited hedgehog beside you. The chili dog in your hands was giving a sense of warmth through the freezing night beside the beach, the waves a calming allure.

“and miss the expression you’ll make when having your first ever chili dog?!” he shook his head, taking a bite of his own chili dog. “This is a once in a lifetime experience, doc! This is even more important than witnessing a baby’s first steps!”

“multiple parents will beg to differ.” You smile, amused by his eagerness for such a mundane meal. He scoffs in reply, crossing his arms. “ Well they obviously never tasted chili dogs. Speaking of which,” he looks at you with excitement again. “cmonnn, doc, don’t make me wait all day. Eat the chili dog! Eat the chili dog!” he chanted.

You quip a brow. “like how you made me wait two days for a rescue?” you acted disappointed, shaking your head and grimacing. “ you’re such a hypocrite speedy…”

He rolls his eyes, smacking his face and groaning a bit in shame and guilt. “I said I’m sorry, ok?” yet, he grins at you, knowing this was mere play. “ If you eat this now, I’ll never be late to your rescue ever again.”

“promise?”

“I swear on it.” he dramatically puts a hand on his heart. “If I’m ever late to your rescue, I’ll never eat a single chili dog ever again. I vow by it." He speaks in a deeply formal tone, unlike his usual carefree and sarcastic one. It makes you giggle, and sonic beams at your lifted mood, despite the troubles you’ve been through these past few days.

“Then I shall remember this vow, Sonic T.hedgeheog,” you give him a cheshire grin, holding a hand on your heart. “Let the record show that my only reason for eating this chili-filled mess is through the vow and promise of a prosperous future, full of rescues and quick speed.” He laughed alongside you, and soon, an exciting silence filled the room as you brought the chili dog closer to your mouth and took a bite.

“….well?” Sonic asked, an edge of excitement and inquisition in his voice. “Do you like it?....”

“it’s….” you chew a bit more, gulping it down slowly, only to further tease him with your answer. You then smiled and nodded your head. “It's pretty good.”

“See?! I told you!” he jumped in excitement, grinning with triumph. “it’s the best kind of hot dog- no, best kind of food, out there!”

“it’s certainly better than a normal hot dog..” you take another bite, savoring the spiciness of the chili. “much better than anything Meh Burger has, I’ll give you that.” You gulped, then nudged his shoulder. “so…anything else happen besides the whole guilt-tripping thing?” After the initial rescue, Sonic brought you back to your shared home with Amy, explaining the reason for his absence in the two days. Apparently, some civilization in the far corners of the island were constantly attacked by robbers, and after saving them, the people guilt-tripped Sonic and Tails into staying for the night, and were planning on making them live as their guardians forever.

“except the stressful event of going through a thousand phone mails Egghead sent me about kidnapping you? “ Sonic sighed, leaning back on the tree. “nope, nothing to tell.”

“..you gotta admit though, the first message was hilarious.” You giggled.

Sonic chuckled, giving you a reluctant nod. “It was pretty bold, I won't lie…”He smiled. “you’re always full of surprise, aren't you,doc?”

You merely shrug pridefully, giving a victorious smile to the roll of his eyes. You lean back on the tree beside him, both quietly listening to the waves of the water as you look up to the sky. Stuck in a river of your thoughts, you take out your phone and sigh.

“What's wrong?” Sonic turns back to look at you better, giving you a curious glance. You hold out your phone to him, showing the lack of battery power left. “it’s on its last breath.” You reply, scrolling through the pictures and messages that have accumulated your phone over the years.

 Sonic looks at you a bit puzzled. “Can’t you ask Tails to fix it?”

“he tried to but..it didn’t work.” It was the first thing you’ve done on your second day here, immediately after noticing the damaged charger, you brought it back to Tails for repair, only for him to look at you apologetically and explain how the parts needed for it can’t be found easily on the island, especially since the electrical outlet and electricity of your device in general is completely different from the one the island uses. You noted to yourself to one day research a bit more about this ever-confusing island, especially since you’re probably gonna live here for the rest of your life, given eggman’s explanation of the supposed ‘barrier’.

“damn..” Sonic gives you an apologetic look, one you quickly shook your head to and tried to ease his worry. “It'll be fine.” You shrugged. “I didn’t really use it much here anyway…the only thing I’ll miss is my songs..” you look back at the screen, a nostalgic feeling resurfacing within you as you click the play button, a song erupting from your phone’s speakers. It was one of your favorite songs, one that made you feel upbeat and energetic, the beat stuck in your brain like a worm, constantly feeling the need to dance to it. like right now.

You swish from side to side at first, nudging Sonic playfully as he huffs in a mix of annoyance and amusement by your actions, then, you grin playfully at him, taking note of the seemingly grumpy mood the ever-so-usually-ecstatic your companion has. You get up, eyes on him as you swish around, dancing with zero coordinance and swaying with the beat, lip-syncing the song terribly as you hold out a hand to him.

“nope.” He shakes his head, then brings his arms up to rest under his neck, getting into a more relaxed position, wanting the action to urge you to give up on this newfound quest of yours. “I’m fine right here.” he gives a fake relaxed hum, closing his eyes, yet peering open one to see if you’ve given up or not, huffing in amusement when he sees your determined insistence.

“cmonnn speedy,” you reenact the tone he had when he urged you to take a bite of the chili dog. “It's not everyday I get to see the sonic the hedgehog dance!!”

“Oh yeah? Well you won’t see it today either.” Sonic smirked at your grumble, snickering as he adjusted himself on the tree. “I don’t dance, doc. Never have, never will.”

“nonsense,” you still continued to sway around a bit with the beat as you continued. “you look like someone who does fortnite dances.”

His eyes widened, looking at you with shocked giddy. “the hell is that supposed to mean?!” he couldn’;t helo but laugh, never expecting you to be one for jabs.

“you heard me, speedy.” You smirked. “Only the people who are shit at dancing are scared to dance. So tell me, speedster, are you a loser at dancing?” you questioned, a hint of competitiveness in your voice. Sonic froze, giving you a begrudging, respectful nod.

“Touche doc…touche…” he mutters as he gets up, rolling his eyes as you outstretch your hands for him once more, grabbing it and letting you pull him to the sand and sway with him. as your favorite part of the song comes, you jump excitedly, looking at him determined as you terribly lip-sync the part with an imaginary microphone in your hand, knowing fully well that you’re the complete definition of cringe. Sonic looks at you amused, a bit impressed and endeared by your walls crumbling down now, feeling comfortable enough to do such silly things next to him. to show his appreciation, he starts trying to dance silly with you, of course, not before checking to see if anyone was watching. With reassurance that no one was within the beach other than you two idiots, he starts dancing and lip-syncing with you, smiling as he sees you giggle in utter giddy and hold his hand as you twirl around, unabashedly and shamelessly enjoying your time with no fear of the consequence. It’s admirable, really. Sonic noticed that you were one who often feared what people think of you, who often felt uncomfortable by the gaze of others, by the judgement of theirs. It was something completely noticeable on your first days here. and yet, in these two months, you’re finally breaking out of your shell. At least, in front of him. and he feels proud, in fact, he feels honored to be the one who witnesses your first ever splash of shameless silliness and tom-foolery, uncaring of who might see you. you feel comfortable enough to do this now.

You feel comfortable enough to do this with him.

You feel comfortable with him.

It's strange how this very thought makes Sonic feel a sense of pride, some sense of accomplishment and gladness for such a fact. But it’s here, warm and fuzzy, making him jolt with the intense giddiness that you were erupting with and now he’s jumping alongside you, terribly lip-syncing next to you as for a moment, he forgets his cool guy, heroic façade, he forgets his own sarcasm, his responsibilities, his self-image and everything around him. In this moment, all that mattered was that life beside you was fun, that you could make even the dumbest of things somehow excitable. He never cared for dancing, always found it boring and a tad embarrassing. Yet with you, it felt fun. With you, he now understood what dance truly is, why people like it so much. As you hold your hand in his and circle around the place, jump up and down and sway left and right with utterly cringe-worthy and non-professional dance moves, the glue of exhaustion he felt these past few days was washed away with the shores, and he was left with you, dancing till the phone’s battery dies out.

To you, you wouldn’t have spent your last remaining phone batteries any other way. This truly was the perfect way to waste it, the best way to say goodbye to your old world, and welcome the new one. with sonic by your side, dancing with you through it all.

---------

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner.” Sonic heaved out, on the ground beside you. both of you were trying to catch your breath, your phone finally died. You nudge him, which he winces at, giving you an annoyed grumble.

“stop apologizing, dumbass.” You smiled, gazing at him softly. “You don’t need to always be the hero.”

He stays quiet at that, eyes slightly widened, yet contemplative and in deep thought, he looks up at the sky once more, taking a deep breath. “..but I do.”

“hm?”

“I do have to be the hero.” He muttered, hand going up to the sky, as if he was trying to reach the stars. He then opened his palm, looking at his gloves thoughtfully. “I mean…everyone wants me to be the hero. The Gogobas, the townsfolk, eggman, you guys….you all want me to be the hero. To save the day.”

“I don’t.” you replied. “I didn’t expect you to save me.”

“but you wanted to, didn’t you?”

You stay silent at that. A pit of guilt forming in your gut.

“that still doesn’t make it right.” you slowly reach out your own hand, having it be next to his. “ That doesn’t mean you have to be the hero. It just means I’m pathetic and I need to learn how to fight for myself.”

“you’re not pathetic.” Sonic argued, hand mindlessly getting a bit closer to yours. “you’re one of the strongest people I know. and these?” he points to the scars on your arm. The ones who you got from eggman’s lasers. “These are proof of it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, leaning it a bit closer to his. “..don’t change the subject, Sonic.” You feel him jolt, freeze a bit as you see the crack in his ploy. “you’re sweet…but don’t go changing the subject to me. this is about you.”

He stays silent. Only the voice of crickets and waves could be heard as your hands were held up in the sky, as if you were both touching the stars above. His hand slowly comes to hold yours. “….i meant what I said though.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “you’re the bravest girl I know.”

“I saw Sticks once fight a bear.”

“Sticks is crazy, not brave.” He quipped, and you couldn’t help but laugh, turning around and letting both of your hands fall to the ground, still entwined as you lock eyes with him. your amused smile turns into a thoughtful one, tilting your head and peering at him concerned. “….I stand by what I said.” You mumble. “…you don’t need to be a hero. If not to them, then to me. you don’t need to be a hero with me. I don’t want a hero. I want Sonic.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching as he looked at you dumbfounded, one that was laced with admiration. You give his hand a squeeze, then turn around to look at the sky, heart filled with determination. “and I’m not just saying that. I’ll prove it to you, speedy.” You hummed. “I’ll show you that you don’t need to hold responsibility over my safety, you don’t need to feel pressured by me. ever.”

“that’s not—“

“I know, it’s not.” You quickly cut him off. “But you deserve better. And I want to give you something better.”

He stays quiet, gaze never tearing away from you as you stare at the stars, planning and preparing for your goal. He wondered, what was going on in that overthinking head of yours? Is your mind ever tired of thinking? Or is this just normal for smart people like you?

Whatever it was, it made Sonic feel a sense of calm wash over him. a chuckle leaves him, looking back up to the sky, hands still entwined with yours.

“….I’m glad you’re here, doc.”

------A/N-------

*barges into the room all bloody and panting, eyes dead shot and bags under them, twitching like crazy, body shaking maddeningly as she slams some crumbled paper onto the table, then grabs you by the shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes* IM ALIVE. I LIVED. I SURVIVED. IM HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE *explodes*

Hi , hello, bonjour, salam, I’m alive, barely. No I did not have a good few years. Nope this break was absolutely not intentional. Yes I missed you all. yes OF COURSE this fic is gonna be continued. No I don’t know when the next chapter will be, ok? Ok.

Ok, so now for the long explanation.

Hello folks! A lot has happened these past few years, and I deeply and sincerely apologize for the late update. I honestly can’t even believe I finally finished this chapter…it feels surreal. This chapter has been in production for like.. three years??? And there are multiple reasons for it.

1-     I’ve been going through a lot lately.like, A LOT. As most of you know, most of y/n’s traumatic experiences root from my own experience, and since I’m a minor, I’m still living in the dysfunctional house I’ve been inspired to write about. Not only that, I began the horrific experience of socializing with fellow peers at the incredibly late age of 15, and now, two years later, I am beginning to remember why I never wanted to socialize in the first place. Senseless drama, non-communicative relationships, and lots and lots of bullying. Now, you may be asking, why was I bullied, well, this leads to

2-      Reason no.2. I have been officially diagnosed with ADHD, depression and Anxiety. Honestly, I’ve known this fact about me for a very, very long time. I noticed how most of my ‘irregular’ actions that my family sees as ‘regular’ are ones that my own father and dad’s side of the family all have, and therefore whenever I tried to explain my mental health issues or basic life issues like not being able to focus well or study like a normal person does, my parents would always undermine it and say I’m merely overreacting. However, after years of fighting, I was finally able to get myself a therapist, and she was so utterly horrified by my test results and conditions that she immediately told my parents to have me checked and medicated lmaooooo. So yeah, after some testing, they found out I wasn’t bluffing. I got all the big three’s from my dad. Adhd, depression and anxiety. This journey of mine caused a lot of mental anguish, because I realize why I always felt so out of place and different from my fellow peers, and I now fully understood why my classmates have been bullying me. it was because I was the ‘weird kid’ of my class. I was the one who often talked to herself, who when overwhelmed with emotions goes around the room walking and muttering to herself (though in front of them, this only happened once. But i'm very certain they saw this as a way of me wanting to get attention or smth and the bad vibes have started since then) I was the weird girl who could speak english way better than her own mother tongue, so she’s definitely just doing it for attention, right? when in reality, I was NOT doing it for attention. I genuinely had a problem with my country's main language, and all my friends and family knew this. but they thought that this was just a way to gain ‘attention’ because in my country, mastering the english language is a very admirable trait. So yeah, my neurodivergency has caused me to go through a lot of mental abuse and sometimes even physical from both my school and my own home. This made me be in a horrible headspace, and for a very long while I stopped writing all together. I couldn’t write a single thing.

3-     I have a terrible, TERRIBLE perfectionist mindset. I often look at something I wrote two weeks ago and cringe. It's usually worse when I notice that the thing I wrote didn’t get much attention. For example, I wanted to write a complete slugterra fic, but since the first chapter didn’t get much attention (and frankly, writing was, it was shit.) I felt anxious and put myself through a lot of pressure into making sure my writing doesn’t falter. This led me into ignoring stranded, because I feared that if I started writing, ill regret what I wrote again and completely rewrite it. this happened a lot of times. Over 10k words have been lost at sea now with all the goddamn rewrites i've done. Not to mention, I somehow got possessed by some writing spirit and wrote over 30k words oneshot for one unpopular character. Obviously, it didn’t get as much attention as I was hoping for (though I did receive incredibly lovely comments) and once again, I felt like shit lmao. I kept thinking that perhaps I am just a god awful writer, that maybe I’m just some cringey loser who's shit at writing and should just never write again. just dumb negative thoughts like that. I’ve began to become incredibly and deeply insecure over my writing, and added with my perfectionist mindset, it just ruined everything.

4-     Life. i've just been so busy with life man. im literally gonna take an exam tomorrow and I didn’t study shit for it LMAO. I'm in my last year of highschool rn, and when I started this fic, I was at..like the start of highschool. So yeah, these past three years I’ve been through hell. Especially since I’m in an art school. It’s been dreadful. I’ve lost all my passion for art as a whole and felt incompetent at drawing and sketching, which are the main basis of getting good at art. There’s also been an abundant amount of pressure on me about my future, since I NEED to get good at art, but I no matter how hard I practiced, I kept coming back empty handed. I felt so useless. I felt like a complete loser. And my teachers and classmates were NOT helping lmao. But now, thankfully, I think im beginning to see some improvement in it. if you guys have any tips, I’d be incredibly grateful.

Ummm anyway if you want more chapters PLEASE COMMENT!! RAMBLE!!!! TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER!!! I want to personally thank all the dear lovely readers who've been commenting for me to give out an update to this fic. Though yeah some authors think its annoying, I ACTUALLY FIND IT VERY ENDEARING!!!! SO DO THAT!!!! RAHH!!! I love knowing that someone wants to hear more of my silly stories, so thank you so much to all the folks who kept up with me and thank you all SO SO SO MUCH for being patient with me!!! I hope you liked this chapter!!! I promise we’ll have MUCH more sonic interactions in the future. We’re finally digging into the cusps of act 1. Miueheheheehhe I CANNOT wait to write it. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!!!! BYE!!! OH ALSO IM SO SO SORRY IF THIS CHAPTER SEEMED DRY IT HAD TO BE A LORE-DUMP SO I CAN EASILY WRITE MORE SONIC STUFF IN THE FUTURE. THIS IS A SLOWBURN CHAT IM SORRY LMAOO LRMKLFELKMGRW

[pomegranate-pen]

The Aeon's Gaze.Veritas Ratio x GN!Reader.

summary: when outer space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveler ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak, vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again,

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost?

Why must you feel so alone?

you're trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

why wasn't Dr.Ratio a genius?

tags: uhh kind of slowburn? reader is a magic professor. reader is gender neutral. father figure screwlum. I have been writing this post two million times now I cannot for the life of me tag send help.fluff, future fluff. toothrotting fluff. BUT also angst.lots of angst. lots of nerdy talks because it's dr.ratio guys ofc there's gonna be nerdy rambles. this entire fic can be seen as a love letter to ratio and a character exploration of him ngl.

Word count: over 16k.yes.yeah.mhm.send help.

chapter1. the unreasonable reason for magic

Dr.Ratio has always been…difficult to get along with, to say the least.

It’s not like you despise him- nor do you wish any ill will towards him. But it’s common knowledge between everyone that knows even the slightest bit about him that Ratio is known to uphold his own opinion to the highest of status, he sees his ideas as superior to the ‘simple-minded’ (his words, not yours). You’ve heard his students, as you’ve met them once or twice during your months as a professor, call him the very definition of a researcher. What other academic and overwhelmingly strict professors would want a researcher to be. Bold, confident and utterly obsessed with knowledge. Ratio holds his opinion in high regard not because of pride or confidence-though they certainly have a play in it- he does it because his opinions all derive from knowledge itself. He doesn’t like when people speak of things they have little knowledge about, and so, he himself constantly strives to store the most knowledge he can in his peculiar mind. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get along with him as a friend, let alone a colleague. Hell, you’re not sure if he’ll see you as a person worthy of speaking to, because you see- Ratio is an honest man, blatantly so. He says what he thinks and wholeheartedly shows a person if he thinks they’re worthy to hold-up a conversation with or not. One of those blatant methods is his mask, one where you’ve always found yourself smiling at. The sheer absurdity of it, the stern and reactionless block of delicately sculptured stone leaves you holding back giggles for no reason whatsoever. You’ve heard fellow colleagues call it unnerving-uncanny even, yet you find it the complete opposite. It’s amusing, it’s delightful to look at. It’s a full treat to glance at him and see him intensely conversing with someone with the mask still on, his voice high on emotions while his face unmoving as ever.

Colleagues who have spoken to him are confusing as well— some find him to be respectable, a determined and highly intelligent person whose conversation always activates the gears in your brain- other’s find him to be too prideful, a snob who thinks he knows more than anybody else, understands things better than others do, “mean-spirited.”your co-worker Rina called him. “mean-spirited and somewhat elitist- but rather than his elitism being laced within status and power, he is attached to knowledge. If he thinks you’re simple-minded or do not have the same IQ or higher than his, you are deemed unworthy to even glance at, let alone speak to.”

“I think he’s nice.” your other colleague, Byron adds, while Rina glares at him.“you only say that because you think he’s hot!”

“Perhaps, but can you blame me?” Byron gushes. “ he’s too gorgeous to handle. You may all think that he wears the mask as a statement, but I believe he wears it because he knows he’s beautiful. so he wears that ridiculous thing just to make sure the students don’t get distracted!”

“Oh please! He’s not that hot. Sure his eyes are mesmerising and he somehow can pull off purple…and his voice certainly does add to his attractiveness…and his abs-“

“ ooook— this conversation is getting out of control.”  You’d quickly  cut in, leaving the now embarrassed colleague trying to explain their reasoning while the other one laughs. Safe to say, the reputation of the ever so famous Dr.Ratio, amongst other employees of the intellegencia is varied, and it depends on whom you ask. There can be no label put into him other than ‘popular’. But this reputation does not hold a candle to how your students like to describe him. to them, he’s the strangest and harshest teacher they ever had, but he’s also what pushes them to improve and show their value in the university. Whenever they come back from his class to yours(whether if it’s from another day or merely a few hours,) you find them to be mentally exhausted, sleepless and even malnourished. Five minutes of your class is spent on letting them rant about their troubles with him- though, they never say whom they’re speaking about exactly. The teacher is left as ‘that one stern teacher before your class’ and he has become a ‘he who shall not be named’ sort of rule amongst your students. A ‘voldemort’, some nerd (you) might be keen to say. The horror stories you’ve heard about his teaching methods and assignments makes you feel bad for wanting to do a surprise pop quiz that day as well. but unfortunately, you have a class too, and it’s your responsibility as a teacher to teach however much you can in the small duration you have in each class. After all, magic is an important and impossibly difficult subject, and though you understand that the subject Ratio teaches must be of a difficult and utmost importance, you cannot let the students see yours as something to yawn at.

You’re no genius, and even if being amongst the intellegencia professors makes you one in others' perspective, it is still something you’d completely deny if directly asked. The only reason you’re a professor here is because of your extensive  knowledge and passionate love for magic. Magic of any kind, whether cursed or blessed, inherited or physical trait, from aeons or from the wonders of space- any sort of magic is fascinating to you. you’ve spent most of your years being a wanderer, traveling between worlds and planets mastering all kinds of magic, to the point where most people just started seeing you as a researcher rather than adventurer. You’d spend days in a planet's library cherishing every and each book with even the word magic in it, any friend you spoke to you’ve talked their ear off about magic with. Passion has become talent, and talent has become knowledge. That is how you found yourself being offered the role of professor, and it’s a job you’ve started to cherish, because it’s basically them paying you to info-dump however much you want about the only subject you found pure love for.

‘genius’ is a highly inadequate title for you, you’d much prefer just the term ‘researcher’ because in truth— that is still who you are. You’re a researcher- more precisely- you’re a wanderer. Soon, you’ll get bored of this teaching gig and then fly off to visit another planet in the vast-less galaxies and learn more about magic- maybe even discover an undocumented one which you can write extensively about and make it into a book. When one is only great in one particular subject, can they really be called a genius?

This— in truth, is the main reason on why you don’t speak to Ratio. You’ve heard of his statement-his extreme low-tolerance of people he do not seem worthy of his time- and so, you’ve already came to the conclusion that he might not fancy  a conversation with you, let alone a discussion regarding the different methods of teaching yo both have, because truly, from what you’ve heard from your students, it’s obvious that you two are like sun and moon, your methods are total contrasts. Where he enjoys bringing students up individually  to the front to analyze their solving skills on the board, you don’t put time on that, rather you quiz them and give them ‘group projects’ so they could master a collection of spells together, all while also giving you a group essay about a certain magic that hasn’t been documented well-enough yet and can help them broaden their scope on the limitless and infinite forms magic can have. If someone fails to meet his expectations, he quickly sends scolds them and explains to the rest why that person’s methods were horribly false. But you prioritize helping the person you’re questioning learn their problem first before turning back to their seats.  He deems exams and pop quizzes the very buildings of his grading for someone- while you believe the person’s activity in class is far more of importance. He gives no second chances, you either fail or survive his class, but you always can’t help but feel bad for the ones failing- giving them a chance to give you essays and reports that can somehow enhance their grades. He’s the stern teacher while you’re the kind one. You’re too different, you believe. You’re the high acceptance rated class while this is, horrifyingly, only three percent.

“I-I’m not saying I think he’s hot!” when your mind goes back to the conversation at hand, you see your two colleagues still bickering. This time, the embarrassed friend seems much more frustrated, while the other much more amused. “I’d rather die than to date that guy. His personality is hard to endure and his reputation far worse.”

you give a soft smile. “I’m glad I at least don’t have such a shaky reputation. It’s only been a few months and I’m already overwhelmed with work.” You gave a chuckle, yet, silence overtakes the place. For a moment, you think they’re probably busy just sipping their drinks, yet as the seconds pass and no comment is added, you look back up to them confused.

They look at you concerningly, shocked even. As if they couldn’t believe the words that left you. you felt your nerves shake.

“what? What is it?”

The two give a glance  to each other, unsure on how to break the news to you. speaking in some sort of glance-language, the previously amused friend forces the other to speak. He groans, looking at you with a guilty plea. “ uh…well,” he falters a bit. “h-haven't you noticed?”

The question makes your heart drop for a moment. “notice what?”

“ aeons , you seriously didn’t see anyone’s ugly stare at you?” the other asks, all while she looks at you with disbelief.. Shit, you have noticed those.

“..I just thought they did that because I was new?” you replied confused.

“Well- it is but—“ he sighs, unsure of how to explain it in the kindest way possible. “…it also has to do with how you got here.”

You look at them confused, mind clanking together to piece together their broken words. Then, in a moment of brilliance, your eyes widen and you feel breathless.

“ They think I’m a nepobaby ?!” the ends of your hair stand straight. The shame and embarrassment of the entire weeks of working here now coursing through you. The wall of ignorance, the wall of bliss some might call it, has now broken, and you’re left to witness the typhoon of horrid rumours drown you, the cold shrieking wetness leaving you shaken, the warm coffee in your hand now feeling cold.

“Worse,” she adds, hissing at the severity of what she will add. “ They think you’re a sugarbaby.”

It’s like the mythical Kraken beast from your home planet has come to attack and swallow you whole.forcing you to drown deeper in the dark waters as you look at the two friends with a painful expression, disgusted by the very idea of it all.

It was true that it was by Genius Society's member seventy six’ recommendation that you were considered for the position, yet that hadn’t changed the rigorous meetings, interviews, past studies and travel checkings you had to go through to get accepted for it. this is the intelligencia guild,after all. Although you are known for your research and scholarly skills in magic, so are many others, and it was through the filled basket of candidates that they soon landed on you.

“That's…I….” you didn’t know what to say. Even the very image of you and Screwllum dating leaves you astonished. To you, Screwllum was merely a good friend, a father figure even. He used to be your motivator when you felt utterly helpless in your pursuit of magic, the one who saved you one or three times in the Herta space station when they were under attack, just as you saved him. He was a comrade, an old robot who reeked of wisdom and kindness. One might argue the most normal of the geniuses. All feelings you ever had of him were platonic and for the longest times, you thought people have also perceived your relationship as such. Apparently not. “I need to go.” Was the only thing you could huff out before leaving the scene immediately, using your class that would start in a few minutes as the excuse.

-----

Late in the nights where only a few guards remain, there are only two teachers obsessed enough with their work as a teacher that they stay for longer hours in the place.  That would be you and the alabaster headed genius. Late at night when you’d feel the bones in your neck cracking from exhaustion, you make your way to the office lounge for a break, you glance in, seeing that the statue head is on the counter and you quickly scurry away. it feels wrong- to see the true face of the man so keen on hiding it  amongst most people. Sure, you find his reasoning to be ridiculous, but you’re not one to overstep others’ boundaries. If he sees fit to scare and intimidate people he claims are ‘simpletons’, then so be it. it’s a silent agreement to not bother each other one bit, even if you both need the lounge at the same time. The other just has to wait five more minutes before they get their coffee.

As your mind is hazy and sleepy as ever,  you intend to repeat the infamous routine. However, time is everlasting, yet also constantly in change. Or, this is just your flimsy excuse on the situation at hand.

With the night-light in your office being your only source of comfort, you find yourself unable to check even one paper. Mind boggled with the supposed ‘rumours’ that have been circling around you since the moment you’ve stepped in here. you felt guilt, you felt embarrassment and most of all, you felt offended.

You spent years of your life suffering for magic, living for magic. Breathing magic. You;ve abandoned everything, your home on earth, your friends, your sense of normalcy and sanity for the sake of reaching the unfathomable, reaching the power that was never granted to your own world. Though you do still stand strong on the belief that you are no genius, that doesn’t mean that you’re not a scholar. It doesn’t mean you’re not a scientist in your own right.  a seeker of knowledge, to solve the unsolvable, to travel the unending galaxies to answer a question that remains unknown even to you. What is magic? What’s its true purpose?

It’s bitter, really. How one influential man’s name can change the course odf everything you’ve worked for. Not that you blame Screwllum— you’re certain that he got this job for you out of concern for your well-being. Especially since your last hang-out, where you got drunk out of your mind with him on the cold tiles of your bedroom in the Herta space station, sobbing into his shoulders about the infinite loneliness you feel as a wanderer of space—

You quickly shook your head. Your mind needs to focus on work, not meddling memories of the past nor unimportant rumours. With a sigh, you get back up from your seat, taste buds already craving the utter bitterness of coffee, all while your mind begs for a quick nap, which you’re sure would be an eight hour sleep instead.

You dismiss it, trying to distract your desperate body with ideas for your next lessons instead. As your mind comes up with new ways to explain curse-based magic and exorcism spells, your hand wanders off to the door knob. You were so distracted by your new ideas that before you knew it- you were inside the lounge with golden eyes piercing through you.

 Eyes full of wit and intellect, judging you a bit before his gaze softens for a moment- then his brows furrowed and it looks as judgmental as ever once more. hadn’t he been wearing his common greek-like wardrobe, you would’ve mistaken him for a complete stranger trespassing the building.

“Are you just going to stand there?” his voice startles you. you hadn’t even realized you were standing frozen. In instinct, you gaze at the table a few feet away from you, noticing the alabaster head placed on it. shit. If only you weren;t so dazed, you would’ve avoided such a strange interaction.

“sorry.” You could feel your nervousness seeping into your voice a bit, you berate yourself for it in your mind. “…I won’t bother you too much. I just need to make some coffee.”

He stays quiet, only taking a few steps to the left, giving you a clear way to the coffee pot. With a mumbled thanks, you start making the coffee. Silence overtaking the atmosphere and making things even more awkward. Aeons, you should’ve waited five minutes, you should’ve been careful.

Perhaps you can make conversation with him? The very thought leaves your mind as soon as it comes. What in the world were you going to ask him? How was his day? Who is he? You already know that, and from what you know about him, or more precisely, heard about him, he seems like the type to dislike short meaningless conversations.

But then again, what others heard about you are the complete opposite of who you truly are— so maybe it’s best you give it a shot?

“Dr.Ratio, is it?” you turn your head to him. “ I’m L/n, I teach-“

“I already know who you are,” he huffs. . For a moment, you’re left speechless and (though you’ll never mention it to a soul) charmed by his accent .“there’s no need for such feeble introductions.” He walks around you slowly, eyeing you as your gaze follows his confused, unsure of what he’s exactly inspecting. He stops, right next to your side with the coffee pot almost near finished with its hard work, the room is silent. You decided to focus on his face a bit, eyeing the red-like pupils of his that make his eyes pop. Truly, your work-friends weren’t lying, he is kind of pretty. His gaze goes up-and-down on your figure, right then, he gives a scoff and takes  a few steps back, giving space between the now offended you and him. Seriously, what’s up with this guy? Was he a prick just like everyone else said?

You try to ignore the interaction, quickly taking out a mug from the cabinets so you could pour your coffee and leave in peace. Unfortunately, he speaks up.

“magic is an incredibly difficult subject to teach.” He starts off, arms crossed and his gaze away from yours. “ Its very meaning still alludes to many geniuses, with every research of them leaving more questions than answers. its comprehension is far worse for simpletons and a nightmare for imbeciles…wouldn’t you agree?”

The mug is soon left forgotten as you process his words. The atmosphere becomes tense as you realize that he’s interrogating you now, wanting to know the truth for himself. Your posture straightens, desperate to show an ounce of confidence as you answer honestly.

“it’s true that magic is unexplainable for geniuses. But there's a reason for it. geniuses want everything to make sense, they seek logic. Magic is pure chaos, it’s illogical. Once you finally accept that magic is completely illogical, the easier it would be to learn it. “

He hums at that, a finger on his chin as his eyes close in thought. “…a reasonable answer.” He mumbles to himself, leaving you to be left even more confused than before. His eyes snap open one more, eyes brimming with more curiosity. “Then let me ask this— L/n,” you’re getting a bit sick of him not using ‘professor’ or at the very least a formal title before addressing you. insecurity suddenly strikes you. Perhaps you deserve such treatment with all the rumours floating around?

“You say that mastering magic means accepting it as the way it is— then, how about understanding? From your words, it can be easily deduced that understanding this subject is beyond impossible and something that’s best to not question— if that is the case, then why are you here ?”

There's something almost blinding in his eyes, as if he’s reached the boiling point of the case, has finally set out the perfect trap that no fraud can escape. You realize that in this moment, it’s not only your professionality and position that is being questioned here, but it’s also your dedication for what you do and if you’re doing your job right. if you were granted the position of a professor this quickly, are you even worth it?

With a deep breath and clear mind, you look him dead in the eyes. “you sure do like twisting words, Dr .Ratio” unlike him, you have respect for such things. And it seems that your use of his title intrigued him a bit, as he raised a brow. “ which is unlike what people say about you. you seemed more like a man of logic to me.”  for first impressions, he’s been hitting all the marks for a prick. as he hears your words, his expression falters only a bit before it goes back to monotone. Not even a bit offended or at the very least somehow affected by your words. You find that even more infuriating, yet decide to not show  any more of your agitation with his sudden interrogation in the middle of the night. “I said it’s difficult, yes. But what I meant by impossible is clear. If one wants to master it, they must accept it and try not to understand it. but if one wants to understand it, then for a much easier path, they must master it first. They must accept its chaos and then try their best to comprehend it. That is what held back a lot of geniuses from understanding it. That is why I’m here.”

“I may not be a genius, yes.” His eyes squint at your words. “but I am still a scholar, and now, a teacher. I’ll do my duties to the best of my capabilities.”

A moment of silence passes by, your eyes staring intensely into his, waiting for an answer. He hums a bit in thought, a small smile etching his lips as he un-crosses his arms and walks to the table to grab his alabaster head.

“the best of your capabilities, you say.” He turns back to you once more. “ Well then, we must see if this ‘very best’ of your work truly does fit the standard, don’t we?”

The mischief in his eyes leaves you confused. “…what are you implying, exactly?” had your mind been in the gutter and you wouldn’t have seen him as a total douchebag, this line of his would have had an entirely other meaning. Especially with how his eyes bore so intensely into yours now, as if he’s analyzing your very being in nanoseconds.

“yes, that will do.” he hums, ignoring your question. He walks away, near the edge of the door before he stops again- giving you one more glance.

“wait - what ?” This was too much implied fiasco in one night, a truly abysmal situation you’d rather not engage in. Even so, you’re not sure if you can convince someone as steadfast and stubborn as him to leave you be, not unless you want more suspicion on you. With a sigh and a pinch of your temple, you ask tiringly, “ when will you be visiting?”

“Wanderer or scholar, it doesn’t matter to me. Your words are confident, but you lack evidence. I’ll be the judge of your work, L/n.”

Ratio merely shrugs, leaving you alone in the lounge with a now cold coffee on the counter, and a head full of thoughts to dwell on.

----

You were always a night owl, but never to this extent.

That, is the first thought you have as you finally get  a grip on reality. All with the help of a red-pin stinging your finger as you tried to hastily take it out of your board.

Scraps of paper littered from the ground floor to the very walls, red lines linking everything together as if it’s a clue board for an unsolved murder, at last, the words of the ever-so-peculiar Veritas Ratio has left you rewriting every single one of your study plans in the night, all un fear of somehow,someday, in one way or another your teaching and skills will be questioned, and if the very debate against you is by none other than the world’s most stubborn scholar than you’d rather take the shovel out of his hands and dig the bloody grave they set for you all by yourself. But that’s quite the pathetic sight, isn't it? and in any case, you’d hate to see the smug smile of the bastards who've been spreading rumours about you all these months like a bunch of teenagers as you’re crushed. You’d be damned to let them play as Nanook for a day, even if it is for only a few hours.

Therefore, here you are, with eyes bloodshot as ever, taking a quick picture of your board and sending it to the group chat. Asking the two colleagues of yours that were all awake for much different reasons than yours- (one was gaming all night and the other binge-watching their favorite melodrama for the 100th time)- on how good of a study plan it is.

RatioSimp: dude.

RatioSimp: please go to sleep.

Y/n : that does not answer my question.

RatioSimp: if I tell you it’s good would you finally go to bed? We’re the ones with the cancelled classes tomorrow, not you.

RatioSimp: wait.

RatioSimp: WHO CHANGED MY USERNAME?!!!! AND WHY CAN’T I CHANGE IT?!

Y/N : rip but it’s true tho

RatioSimp :I would’ve blocked you rn if you didn’t help me with checking the exams papers yesterday.

Y/N: Whatever you say Ratio simp.

RatioSimp: *RatioSimp has attached an image of a google search bar, ‘how to hack and change someone’s username’*

RatioSimp: revenge shall be mine soon.

Y/N: good luck coming up with a funny username by then

RatioSimp: Are you calling me unfunny??

*Y/n has left the chat*

RatioSimp: IS THAT A YES??!!

Your nerves eased down a bit, yet the pit of acid in your stomach was still bubbling to an abnormal degree. You can’t help but imagine a disastrous scenario where the duke might find your teaching methods horribly relaxed- they might find it to be far too soft for such a harsh school and reprimand you for such, possibly even fire you as a result. Though, truthfully, you do not care about the status of your employment, what you’re more worried about is possibly being forced to be harsh on your students, and even if they did fire you, the substitute being far harsher or worse, unable to teach such a subject.

Magic is confusing, magic is difficult. It’s not meant to be fully understood, so you cannot teach it by the textbook’s definition of it. magic is always changing, always becoming more than it once was. With limitless power comes limitless knowledge, and magic is something no one can call themself an expert at, not even you. hell , if you’re the best professor they could find at the moment, someone who does not even have the confidence to call themself a genius, let alone let others do so, then who in the world(s) would they choose next?

you sighed, feeling the very weight of this workload affect you right now at this moment. Glancing at your phone and ignoring the abnormal amount of messages, you glance at the clock and note the time. Holy shit . Your work starts in two hours .

With an exhausted sigh, you feel your eyes starting to waver a bit, begging for some shut-in. Though the very idea of sleeping for only two hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth, it is far better than showing up to your class tweaking and ticking like a time-bomb from all the caffeine you would’ve been desperate to consume.

You take a glance around your room, tching a bit from seeing the mess it has become. Something far from aesthetic and beauty that the internet fools you to believe in, in which all the colors of all the books match and the handwriting between the scribbles of neat yet a tin bit crumble up paper is all cursive and pleasant to look at.  Oh, and who could forget the pretty mugs all tied in together, one of them laced with a motivational or sarcastic quote that just screams ‘I’m a scholar’. No no, it was nothing like that. For that aesthetic, though pleasant and calming to look at, like all other aesthetics and pictures are based on fiction, on lies. They are a representation of what people wish being a scholar was like. Happy, enlightening, calming and riveting. Yet, it’s nothing like that at all.knowledge can make someone go mad, it can make them lose sleep and sanity. It makes you forget that this house isn’t truly yours, it’s just a small apartment you’ve rented that barely had a thing in it other than a bed, bathroom and a tiny kitchen. No decorations, barely any lights and not even a pillow for the supposed be you got (which was incredibly fragile and creaky, always making you fear that it’d break on you in the middle of the night). Yet now, the empty, cold and lifeless room has become more fit to be a crime scene. From asylum to murder. How fitting! it’s like the very papers you’ve ripped apart and torn out or messed with just explain the story themselves. A lonely human free from the asylum’s care finally basks into the world again, finally tastes the true meaning of freedom. Only to find themself frozen, a heart with a sinkhole, that just keeps getting deeper and deeper the more time passes and the more that their isolation consumes them. The very house they got, the very fresh start they found has now become their new source of madness, their new asylum. They may have left the asylum, but the curse of loneliness and fear of abandonment has never left them. It is chained to their very being now- changed to their hands like in a vice, tight grim that makes their very fingers shake as they write out their sanity, as they write with pure insanity.

You clear your throat, feeling an itch in it that has never been felt. Aeons, is the lack of sleep getting to you now? you can barely even think straight anymore- let alone try to comprehend the carousel of thoughts that are going through your head.

With a sigh, you shrug off all the litters of paper, pencil and pens off of your bed and crawl into the sheets as the bed creaks with even an inch of your movements. The constant shrieks and creaks makes you wince in annoyance until your ears get used to it, and your mind succumbs to dream land as your head hits the pillow.

You feel like you're safe now, between the softness of your new bed sheets you bought a week ago and the little blue lamp giving you comfort through the eerie night. Yet, as your poor body thinks that this is finally it, you will finally get the rest you so desperately need, a certain, mischievous and evil mind of yours starts asking its dark questions of the day, ones that literally keep you up at night.

How long has it been since you’ve made a room yours ?

During your travels, there was rarely any time or, frankly at the start, any money for booking inns and hotels. So most of the time you were left camping or sleeping in empty rooms a few employers of yours offered for your services. In your time as a student, you’d often sleep in bunk beds with others and so decorating a room was usually unnecessary. After all, why try to make it yours when you’ll be only staying for only a few months or weeks? Why put on such time and effort for something that is meant to last for years?

And yet— these clusters of paper, you buying bed sheets with your favorite designs and hell-even the goddamn board you bought and installed in this room- these are all signs that someone lives in this building, someone lives in this room. someone is a part of this world, alive and important to the city around them.

Your other rooms were always left untouched, not even a pot or table moved one inch to the right or left. Your suitcase was always packed, your fridge was constantly empty. Yet now, in this room there are signs that you live, that you are no mere viewer of this world now, but a part of the play they’re all acting in. an actor who doesn’t even know their lines, let alone the play they’re in.

With a now heavy heart that matches your mind that was swimming with heavy memories- you grab your pillow, take a deep breath and scream into it with all your might, hoping, begging and even praying it will make the pain go away, that it will help your mind shut up and for your heart to stop throbbing in pain.

You tried to ignore the little teardrop marks that spotted your pillow as you finally drifted off to sleep.

-----

You craved something stronger than coffee.

The exhaustion that coursed through your veins was phenomenally high, your cup of sad black and half-assedly brewed coffee was becoming stale on your tongue. No matter how much you drank, you didn’t feel one bit awake.

“huh?— P- Professor L/n ?!”

The sudden voice of a student merely walking by stopped you in your tracks. Aeons, did you look that bad? Never in your life have you heard a tone so exasperated and shocked by your appearance. The student, along with a group of their friends approached you with worry, all giving different surprised reactions at the state you’re in. it took you a moment to realize exactly who they were-but when you did, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“oh…Dimitri.” You greet the first boy who noticed you. a student of yours who sat in the front row seats and was constantly writing down notes. He was a good kid, though at times his constant parade of questions were annoying- nevertheless, he had a golden heart, and his friends never shied away from teasing him about his nerd-like nature. Speaking of…

“You look like shit, prof.” the boy in the red jacket spoke, grinning.his clothing instantly reminded you of who he was. It was Caleb, the kid who sits in the back of the class. He never paid attention to class, not unless the magic you were speaking about involved pyrotechnics.His amused look quickly shifted to one of annoyance as another kid with glasses hit him in the head.

“watch your language, dumbass .” Glasses kid spoke. His voice instantly reminded you of who he was. Tulio. Always first in and first out, an incredibly punctual kid with a strong love for illusion magic.

“since when did you care?—“

“since you once called the craziest professor around here a ‘ shit-faced greek stone’ right in front of him —“

“both of you, stop.” Dimitri hit both of them in the head. His attention quickly turns back to you. “are you alright professor? You look like you’re going through one of- ehh…” Dimitri looks around for a second before leaning in. “ one of ‘you know who’s exams.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, which, in hindsight, perhaps sounded like a cry for help.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” was you reply. “ Just make sure to have your notebooks on hand. Today’s session is a wacky one.”

It seems like your tone was not convincing enough for Dimitri. His eyes only looked at you with more concern. However, they quickly lit up with hope as he started rummaging in his bag.

“Well, now you’re starting to scare me, prof.” Caleb continued the conversation. “I was hoping you’d have us test out spells again at the lab.”

“eh…well, maybe next time, Caleb.”

“..can’t it be today?”

Your brow rose . “ Why should it be today?”

Caleb and Tulio glanced at each other for a moment with an indescribable expression, as if they were trying to communicate something with mere blinks and breaths. Before you could question further- Dimitri excitedly takes out the energy inside his bottomless bag (it seems like the bottomless/teleportation spell you’ve taught the kids are getting far different uses then what the dukes and fellow colleagues might expect).

“Here ya go prof! I drink this anytime I need a pump of energy in me!”

You take it, giving it a good look and grimacing about how tall the drink is. You turn it around  to check its description, only to become pale at the percentage of sugar and caffeine.

“uh…is this-..is this healthy?”

“not at all.” Dimitir laughed. “but it’s always helped me go through hellish exams.”

Exams. Right. This is just like an exam. And unfortunately for you, the voldemort of the university is the judge of it all. He's the one designing the questions, the one who set the date to ‘I don’t know ill I just pop in one day and say exam time asshole!! And ruin your entire fucking week or maybe, horrifyingly  even, month now by haunting your dreams every night about this god awful shitty disgustingly bad and outrageous fucking exa-“

You quickly open the can and gulp down the entire thing.

You could hear Dimitri choking on the rest of his rambles, all while Caleb laughs in astonishment and Tulio hisses in second-hand regret.

You take a deep breath, letting the strawberry gas filled taste invade your mouth with its insane sugar and spice. “…uh.thank you, Dimitri. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“y-you sure you’re okay prof? you can cancel today’s session if you want-“

“no no. I’m fine. I think. Maybe not.Maybe yes. Maybe-“ shit, not even a minute and the caffeine is already making you feel hyper. “just uhh- just get to class in time and have your notes ready. Today’s session is gonna be  a long one. “

“you…already said that…”

“d-did I?...” yep, this seals it. Screwlum was right, caffeine would be your downfall.“ ….I’ll see you kids later.”

----------

You swear you just saw Qlipoth watching you by the window.

Your heart is in a strange state. Not in disarray, yet so close to its edge. You're holding yourself back from talking outloud and doing every tricky movement imaginable, unable to mask it all. Yet, you try to, desperately. Trying your best to not weird out the students that are pouring in, awaiting the class to fill and for the chatter to end.

You take a glance at the room. there seems to be no sign of an alabaster head. Which means that for another day, you’ve survived. And for another night, you will be tortured.with a sigh and deep breath, you close your phone and tap the board, bringing the class into motion

Today’s session was all about emotion-based magic-commonly love spells and such- but also consisting of different varies emotions that one can casts spells of, yet, it’s a complicated process, and is in need of an experience and course in a multitude of topics such as neuroscience and psychology. You’ve mostly covered the history at first, explaining which aeon it came from and which planets are the most successful at generating this sort of magic without any need of these specific sciences, but for average magic users, such as the students in your class, it was needed to understand at least the slightest bit of them so they wouldn’t screw up the spell and cause horrid damages to the brains of their subjects, truly, it’s one of the more delicate magics, one where you’ve repeatedly warned them not to use at their current intermediate level, best to leave it for another year, decade even, because this magic was even a hellish thing for you to learn- you still remember when your teacher at the time cast one of the spells on you and you ended up crying for five straight hours, ranting and rambling about all the things in your life frustrating you most- even reaching the point where you confessed that you thought you were unlovable-that in all this time of your travels, you have failed to find enough love for another that you’d decide to stay, or even someone loving you so much that they’d want you to.

You quickly shake your head- taking a quick sip of water as the students gingerly take down notes. You pick up the marker to write down another spell on the board once more- yet falter as you see a porcelain white head poke out between the rows of students.

There he stood, in all his prideful glory, with crossed arms and a statue for a head that has become a nuisance for you now- being unable to see his expression and honest reaction to your teachings. Students , whom must've noticed his arrival much sooner than you, only share small glances to the ‘he who shall not be named’ professor and then each other. You stare for a moment, unable to process anything at that point. Heart in a complete panic and anxious thoughts consuming your mind. You close your eyes, decide to imagine this as pure hallucination and continue your teaching as if no strange man is there. no, the stern teacher your students always talk shit about is definitely not inspecting your class right now. He totally just didn’t see you info-dump about your hyperfixation  like a child. absolutely not. Nope nope. This is still a completely normal class, a completely normal day and your bloodstream is completely normal and not now,as you’re guessing, slowly starting up a timer for full-shut down mode in the next three hours. Maybe two.maybe one. Maybe even just five minutes -

No no don’t even guess!! You’re certain your body is as happy as a clam!! Your arms are most certainly not begging for a break right now!!! your mind is definitely not shutting down as we speak!!!and this? This is a very normal class. That’s all it is. A class about magic. Specifically- psychological/emotion-based magic - the one which  doctor fucking Ratio is now inspecting-

You take a deep breath midway lesson- calming down a considerably small amount of your stress and continue as if it was nothing important, ignoring the man whose eyes never left your form.

----

“ you did great professor .L/n !” one of your students whispered before leaving. Others gave the same anecdotes or just thumbs ups and smiles. Yet, it did nothing to comfort your panicked mind. Sweet? Yes, but very unhelpful, because the man himself was still quietly sitting at one of the row seats, his fingers grasping his chin in thought.

If you weren’t in such a nervous state, you’d giggle at the scene you’re seeing right now, the stone head still amusing you to no end. With a quick amount of confidence and motivation, and by seeing how he’s still unmoving from his seat, perhaps wanting to stay and think a bit more, you approach the stairs leading up to him and with each step closer, you could feel your neck suck in more breath and hear your heart beating faster. You cleared your throat, hoping your stress wouldn’t be evident enough through your voice.

“so…you’ve finally visited.”

He doesn’t glance up to you, nor does he respond. You can hear your mind berating you to the galaxies and back for thinking with your heart and not logic- not assuming that he might've wanted some quiet time instead.

You reach out your hand, hoping for a handshake or at the very least his attention.  “It's been some time since we last met, hasn’t it?”

Still, no response.

Okay, fuck this guy.  the least he could do was say hello back- or maybe you’re the prick here now? Aeons, you really need to leave—

“you mentioned something about happiness spells, about how they generate more chaos than they do ‘happiness’ in a person.” He finally speaks.” Could you elaborate?”  His voice is smooth, yet it still shows his confidence and pride clearly, though, it should be said that since he’s curious, his voice should sound more confused and in need of clarification, yet here, it’s like he’s truly taming his task seriously, his inspecting you and your knowledge of the subject you teach personally now. And so, you decide to answer it as clearly as you could- as if you were teaching a new lesson.

“ The spells will enhance one’s serotonin and their outlook on life becomes incredibly positive at that moment, so much so that this positivity they have slowly descends to toxic positivity the more they’re influenced by the spell. Enhancing any kind of emotion can cause multiple behavioral problems, because the patient in question’s mind all other emotions they feel is simply ignored for the one that’s been enhanced. “

“hm, good. So you weren’t just bluffing over there.”

You’d feel offended, yet your mind reasons that his action is not necessarily out of disrespect, rather it’s from caution.

“it’s foolish how people resort to magical drugs to somehow fix their life rather than proper therapy.” He then scoffed. “ But perhaps, they do this because they fear facing the truth about themselves. That maybe, if the problem hasn’t been solved in a day or so, they’re the very root of the problem.”

Something about the conclusion made you feel iffy, it felt somewhat wrong. And so, you bit the bullet and countered, “ well, I don’t think it can be that simplified.”

He tilts his head, you see it as confirmation to continue.

“ Though yes, you could argue that the problem could be from them entirely- there’s also the possibility that the problem could be another person. It’s hard to convince yourself you’re the problem, but it’s much more difficult to convince someone else that they are. There’s also the aspect of the person whose problem being a loved one- if that’s the case then one could feel horrible for even mentioning the idea of them being in the wrong.”

Ration then snaps his fingers. “aha, well that’s where you prove that I’m right. ” He then turns around to the board that’s far away from you. whether it’s for dramatic effect or if he’s truly in thought, you’re not sure.

“If the person themself can’t find the courage to face others and confront them about the issue, then they’re the problem. They need to face their fears directly, if not, the problem will only worsen, and they will soon be left with quick and temporary solutions that’ll never solve the wider problem at hand.” He turns around to face you once more. “they need to have confidence, in their own abilities and knowledge, they also need to have trust.” This is starting to feel somewhat personal now. “ in themself and others. if one is on the run all the time, there will soon be no home to go back to.”

“…are we still talking about psychology spells?” you gulped, feeling like someone intruded into your privacy without your consent or awareness of it.

To your luck, he doesn’t add anything else to that topic, only humming in what you can only describe as amusement. For what? You're unsure of, and would rather not know anyway. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. He then leaves, without bidding goodbye, yet as much as you want to feel annoyed by that, you find it to be in character for him. As you’ve said before, you’re no genius, and perhaps, he’s sensed that in you from the moment you started arguing back with him.

You’re about to just leave the classroom, taking your phone and other belongings with you, yet you pause for a moment, frozen at the door as you’re reminded by something horrid.

You didn’t ask his opinion on your class yet.

Another fearful thought hits you.

What if he thought you were terrible?

With a new pit of anxiety, you leave the classroom wanting to scream your head off. If the aeons were kind enough, which from what you’ve studied they’re often not, they’d give you the sweet release of death already.

-----

You couldn’t focus.

The dimly lit office room that was once your oasis to work at has now become a nuisance. Your essay was coming to a complete halt— your mind going nowhere but the meeting you had with Ratio a few days ago. Thankfully, nothing of importance has really happened. You hadn’t had anyone call you in for a questioning or anything of that embarrassing sort, yet, a part of you has become selfish. Especially since you heard your companions speak about how the kind yet notefull criticism they got from their inspectors was exceptionally helpful. In that moment, you realized that you wanted to know if you’re doing well too.though you don’t really agree with all of his views, you still consider them valuable, you’re eager to improve, especially since you might not even work here for long, considering that your wandering and urge to adventure slowly but surely building back up.

Or, maybe, you just wanted to see Ratio again.

You shake your head and huff in annoyance. No, that couldn’t be the case. It shouldn’t be. You’ve only met Ratio once, and from the get-go he seemed like the type you’d best stay far away from. Grouchy, overly-confident and full of insults. You were certain that had you been wrong somewhere or faltered for even one moment in your answer, you’d be facing the nastiest of insults and wishing you would’ve never met him.

Nevertheless, your mind was your enemy. The constant curiosity brewing within you, the questions and insecurities you now have of your work ethics and your brief, yet thoughtful conversation with the alabaster headed man has left you unable to complete your work and in need of the freshest, cheapest and saddest coffee the office lounge had to offer.

With a tired sigh, you get out of your seat and office, walking down the cold halls and basking the vastless stars that shine brightly within the windowsills. Memories of traversing alongside the endless bundles of light left you in memoryland; where the space was quiet and your small ship was filled with a cacophony of tears and sad songs. Where once stood an excited traveller ready to see the world, now was a crying wanderer experiencing their first heartbreak. Vowing to never call another planet ‘home’ ever again.

You remember asking yourself, Akivil, how have you ran this path? How can the express experience friendship and comradery and even love like no other in the world, and then so easily leave it all behind? Why can’t you do the same? Why must you feel so lost ?

Why must you feel so alone?

The bitter thoughts soon fade when you find yourself at the office lounge’s door.

This time, the place is empty.avoid of any mathematicians and alabaster heads. The only thing you are met with is the same old coffee pots and empty chairs.

Something behind you cuts the silence.

“..haven’t you had enough coffee for the day?” the accent, the sarcasm and the underlying curiosity, that was Ratio alright. “you were one cup away from a stroke when I saw you earlier today.”

“...I’m making tea.” You huffed, now embarrassed by your lack of sanity today.

“Tea has the same amount of caffeine as coffee.” His tone was so stern, you almost felt like one of his students. Someone who turned in a paper late and is now facing punishment.

“What do you suggest I have to keep me awake? Water ?” you grumbled, finally turning around to see him. your eyes widen for a moment- realizing that he doesn’t have his alabaster head on once again. Yet you quickly shake away the thought, not wanting to look flabbergasted in the face of a man who's been torturing you the entire week.

“ Perhaps you shouldn’t stay awake in the first place .”

You stayed quiet at that, knowing fully well that he’s in the right. you really do need sleep.now more than ever.

“It's not by choice.” He rebottled.

“said the man who is also awake.” To that, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Then we’re in the same situation, Doctor.” You huffed, filling up the kettle with water and setting it on the electric tea-stationary. A peaceful silence fills the room for a moment, only the rumbles of the kettle being heard as its heating the water to its boiling point. In this quiet moment, you wonder if you should ask the golden question. If you should seek the answer to all your doubts. Perhaps it was out of stupidity, perhaps it was out of exhaustion and lack of self-awareness, but you dared to jump into the lion’s den, then berated yourself in your mind for comparing this task so unbelievably horrifying, and finally asked the question that's been on your mind the entire day.

“….did you like my class?....”

Ratio rose a brow, curiosity gleaming from his eyes as he crossed his arms. “oh? What value does my opinion have on this subject?”

“I-I don’t know.” you shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed now. you weren’t one for interrogation, especially when you’re the target. There’s something about ratio’s eyes that make you feel like a test subject, as if you’re an intriguing piece of gemstones that he’s been tasked with knowing every inch of. “you were the one who visited out of nowhere.”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?” he countered.

You huffed, eyebrows furrowed as you felt a headache coming. “I’m…assuming you were sent by the intellegencia guild’s heads?”

“So you do possess basic deduction skills.” His sarcastic and slightly coy-tinged voice irked you for a moment, but you didn’t let your annoyance show. Instead, you merely sighed and crossed your arms as well, looking at him with the same amount of fierceness he was giving you.

“Are you going to keep on dodging the question?”

He scoffed, closing his eyes for a moment and opening them up to judge you. “ Are you that desperate for other people’s approval?”

“hello??? You’re the one who interrogated my classroom??” was all you could say as you looked at him in disbelief.

He merely hummed at that, before adding “well, I had to. after all, they asked me to do so.”

“and?....”  you anxiously whispered. He looked at you blankly.

“Well you didn’t receive a letter promptly firing you now, did you?” gosh, why does he never give a clear answer? Must he always speak in riddles?

Nevertheless, you knew what his words meant. You’re safe. For now, at least.

“Still,” you pouted. “that doesn’t answer my question professor Ratio. What did you think of my class?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“well it mattered for the intellegencia guilt heads, hadn't it?”

“they did not specifically seek for me.” He argues back, then gives you a scrutinizing glare. “you’re lucky I was in that meeting. Had I not volunteered, you’d be fired by now.”

Your heart dropped, the kettle was forgotten and only his words remained. “..w-what do you mean?”

“Your reputation here is far worse than you think.” He speaks as if he’s scolding you for a mistake, as if he’s warning you. “the intellegencia guild isn’t as sophisticated as you think it is- nor is it filled with geniuses .” He glared at you, and you’re honestly wondering what he’s so offended by. You did say you don’t regard yourself as a genius, didn’t you? “There are rumours about you. true or not, it doesn’t matter. They’re spreading like wildfire, and you only have a handful of options on how to react to this situation.”

You could feel your heartbeat racing, you really just don’t know what to say at this point. You’re feeling a mix of incomprehensible emotions, and your eyes are filled with distress and caution as you try to steady your breathing.

It seems like he’s done speaking, and as he turns around and walks to the door, your instincts flare up, and you say something out of your own control. A slip of the tongue.

“Then what do you want me to do?!” you ask in desperation. The lack of sleep, the stressful days, depressing thoughts and every bullshit in-between finally getting a toll on you.the kettle howls with you, finally reaching the boiling point and switching itself off. “what must I do to get their approval?!”

“Who said anything about gaining their approval?” he questioned. “ Surely, you can think of other ways to prove your worth in this place.”

Ratio stills in his walk, his back turned against you, yet his frozen form is enough to let you know he’s in shock, in disbelief. And when he turns around to meet your gaze, your deduction is supported by the look of disbelief and slight disappointment that he gives you.

“…what other way could there be?” you let out a tired sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. “you’re not suggesting I fight with them now, are you?” you then grimaced. “ I’d never stoop low into doing anything that relates to public humiliation for them either.” 

Ratio sighed, a hand coming up to rub his temples. “…quite the stubborn one…” he mumbles to no one in particular, and you can’t help but give an exasperated huff. “If you really want my input, I’d say a few of them deserve a proper humiliation just to knock some sense into their empty minds. But this is your matter, not mine.”

“you’re right. and so I won’t be humiliating them.”

Ratio’s eyes widen only for a moment, as he gazes into your determined eyes with some sense of deep understanding. But….an understanding of what , exactly? You weren’t sure. And no matter how much you were analyzing his every tick and move, you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“…..then I wish you the best, wanderer. ” And with that, he leaves the office. Leaving you alone with a cold kettle.

-----

Perhaps humiliation was the right call.

“Aeons, you look like shit.” The exasperated gasp of one of your only friends, the one you love to tease (bully) so much catches your attention.

Because as you sit here on the lounge, with the fellow co-workers now pouring in one-by-one, you really aren’t sure how you can gain their approval, while also keeping your pride intact. Because after all, there is no way you’ll grant them favors by doing their research or grading their papers. Not only will it make you their scapegoat for work, but it’s also vehemently against the intellgencia guild rules, and that could easily worsen your reputation if not treated with the utmost care.

“Morning to you too, Ratio simp .” You yawn, bringing the coffee closer to your lips, yet the bitter aroma makes you gag, and you learn the cup away from you instead and give a disgruntled sigh.

Byron rolls his eyes, sitting down beside you. “Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“…you won’t like the answer to that.”

He looks at you with a mix of pity and disappointment,and as soon as Rina joins you both at the table, he looks at her with a pleading stare. “knock some sense into them.”

“you think I haven’t tried?” she scoffed, taking a sip of her own coffee. “they’re the utter definition of stubborn as a bull.”

“We know.” they both say in harsh unison, and though you know their angered voice is all out of concern for you, a bit of your heart breaks at such reactions. Great, now even your only friends hate you.

“I’m right here you know.”

You rest your head at the table for a moment, taking a deep breath and clearing your sad thoughts before sitting straight again. “I need your help with something.”

“Does it relate to fixing your sleep schedule?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not interested.”

You huff in annoyance, clicking your tongue and looking at them with plead. “it relates to my reputation here.” to that, they look at you with pity and intrigue. Aeons, you always disliked it when people look at you with pity. What is there to be sad about? You’re totally fine. Your life is absolutely normal, right?

“you two have been here longer than I have. What do I have to do here to gain respect?”

“well…most people who join the guild already have some respect and admiration latched to their name..and others started out in a neutral social placement before achieving high respect here for their accomplishments…” Byron tapped the table, his head in deep thought.

“…but I’m at rock bottom.” You concluded, feeling your shoulders slouch.

“Exactly,” Rina nodded. “ We never had a case like yours before.”

“Actually,” Byron’s eyes suddenly lit up, looking at Rina. “ We did have one. Remember?”

“hm?” she hummed in confusion at first, before her eyes lit up as well. you looked at both of them with befuddlement.

“...what is it?” you questioned with a bit too much enthusiasm, no matter how hard you were trying to hold it back.

“ well…before you, we had another magic professor. Professor Malbin. He lost his position as a professor due to urging students to do unauthorized experimentation revolving around toxin magic.”…toxin magic? ..you’ve mastered toxin magic years ago, and your master has told you about its unresearched capabilities and the dangers it can bring to someone. Producing toxin out of thin air is hard to achieve, but trying to make specific toxins is even worse. It forces you to tamper with reality, to tamper with science and even at timed your own body. Plucking out small atoms from the world itself to create something utterly new and poisonous. A true danger for newbies indeed, and something you should always heed carefully when learning. You remember your own first time when dabbling in toxin magic. It was not fun at all. the dizziness, the state of uncertainty, the heightened senses and the feel of your magic, your very essence of becoming faltered and uneasy was painful, to say the least.

“they couldn’t find the students who were involved, but they did find Malbin’s private files about this research, and that’s why they fired him. But guess what? His research on this has garnered a lot of praise. So his reputation hasn’t dwindled, rather, it went up.”

“that….explains everything.” You frowned. No wonder the malic and rumors towards you are so penitent. They think it was unfair for Malbin to be fired. They see him as a far more worthy person to be called a professor rather than you. some wanderer the guild picked up from Screwlum’s advice. “so…I must conduct a research that is just as good- or hopefully even- better than what Malbin has done?”

They both give a glance at each other and then look back at you with not-so-motivating shrugs. “probably, yeah.” Rina replied, while Byron hummed.

A sigh sipped past your lips, a headache slowly forming into your mind as you drink-up the coffee in your hand while withholding your gag and exhaustion from the constant bitter taste. You really need to start eating something sweet with it lest you want to throw up. “…research it is, then.”

--------------

The room is dark, cold. You stand in the black void in utter confusion, and…discomfort. You can feel fear and nausea course through your veins like blood. You can’t speak, only feel. You look around you for anything, something in this dark, shapeless void.

“You left me.” a shaky, broken and horrifying familiar voice echoes inside the room. you don’t dare to turn around, afraid of what you might see.

A horrid silence takes over the room. you could feel him staring at you. you could feel his piercing, hatred-filled gaze. Your mouth opens, shaking and barely holding it together.

“…you were mara-struck.” You utter, tears forming in your eyes.

“And whose fault was that?” he scoffed. Aeons. You missed his voice. yet you want him to just stop talking. To just stop hating you. to just stop telling the truth-

No.no.remember what Screwlum said. Echo his words. It was not your fault.it was not your fault. It….

“…there was nothing I could do.” your voice was barely a whisper, barely a breath.

“you and I both know that’s not true.” His words were like a dagger to your heart, piercing your very being and making your knees shake, buckle and fall to the ground. Your hands coming up to your ear instinctively, holding your hair in a deathly clutch. You see drops of water forming in the ground…and you realize that they’re in fact your tears. You’re crying. your heart feels like it’s getting stabbed into millions of pieces. Echoes and memories, his giggles, his soft smile, his blood-curdling scream all crash into your head like a wave. You wanted to scream, yet your lungs wouldn’t let you even breathe.

you plead for mercy, head down near the ground as you see his shoes now, he’s peering down at you. you don't want to look up, afraid of what you might see. The yellow leaves cascading down are already too much.

“Was it worth it? is it still worth it, Y/n ?” you missed how he called your name. you hated the fact that this is how you hear it.

“It's all your fault wanderer.” His sharp claws reach out and grab your hair. You let out a screech of pain as you’re forced to look up and see his face.

Papers fall everywhere as your body lurches awake. Sweat and tears cascading down your face. The office is dimly lit, your computer being the only source of light. Your breaths go from quick and ragged to calm and steady as you gulp.

Water. You need water. You look around the room for your mug, and as you finally find and quickly grab it, you curse at its empty contents. Great, now you have to get up and go to the office lounge. What time is it, even?

You peer at the clock on top of your door. Shit, it’s midnight. You’ve overstayed, again . Perhaps brainstorming immediately rather than seeking sleep wasn’t the best idea. Your body has seemingly forcibly shut itself down mid-way through your work and made you fall asleep.

You slowly get up, trying to shake the mental image of his mara-struck face out of your mind. Tiredly so, you walk out the office and on a familiar path to the lounge. You hope that you’re alone, that no one gets to see you this worn out,as if you’ve just walked out of a storm.

However, fate loves to torment its favorite punching, and as you slightly open the door, you’re met with locks of purple hair and the most intriguing of eyes. furrowed brows screaming of intellect and deep thought, a face so ethereal that you’d almost mistake him for a god. You’ll have to, unfortunately, admit that he is quite handsome. Still, it doesn’t really defend him regarding the case of his attitude.

Horrifyingly enough, his expression falters. “ I can hear you.” His words leave you jolting, sleepiness now fading away and being left with absolute shame and embarrassment at your own horrid and cringe-fail behaviour. “ It's obvious that you haven’t had a proper sleep yet.”  The sigh he gives leaves you even delving into more self-deprecation in your mind, all while you slowly walk-up to the counter and prepare your own set of caffeine-induced bitterness.

“Sorry.“  for a moment, you wonder if you should mention your last comment that happened merely seconds ago before the eerie silence, but you soon decide against it, wanting to ignore it with every fiber of your being and hoping to aeons that he’d do too. Instead, maybe small talk would do. “…so what’s keeping you up at this time?”

“ Pop quiz preparations.”

You gave a joking wince. “you’re gonna surprise them tomorrow, eh?”

“next week, actually.”

“…and you’re preparing now?”

“There'll be multiple quizzes, on each day of the week.”

You look at him with disbelief, a concern for the students etched on your face. To that, his brows furrowed and he huffs in defense.

“It's essential to their learning.” He defends. “ I must make sure these lessons stick to their minds and don't fade away with time.”

“…I can see your reasoning behind it.” you mumble. “but…”

“but?”

“..won’t it crush their grades and spirit?”

“grades don’t matter. It’s what you learn that does.” He said with a firm tone.

He stays silent at that, and you take this as an opportunity to drink up the water your body so desperately needs.

“while that is true, that is not how the guild would think now, is it?” you open the fuacet, pouring water into your mug as you continue. “It's just like you said, the guild is quite flawed. And so, they’ll only care about the number on the paper, not the student’s own skill.”

“…one pop quiz it is, then.” You’re actually quite shocked by this outcome, as you look at him with disbelief.

His brows scrunch up in slight annoyance. “What is it now? surely you’re not suggesting for me to not do a pop quiz at all?”

“no..no..it’s just that…” you peer away from his gaze, a little overwhelmed by its intensity. He always looks like he’s studying you. like he’s trying to decipher your being. You’re certain it’s out of habit for him. a born genius, always thirsting for knowledge. “ …I didn’t think you’d be so easily convinced.”

“And why would you have such a belief, might I ask?”

“Well….” you tap your foot a bit in stress. Shoulders tensing up. “rumor has it that you’re quite difficult to reason with…”

“…guess we’re both victims of untrue rumors.” You reply, your finger swirling the rim of your mug.

“ah, well,” his voice had a sort of lilt to it, a lightened, slightly condescending tone. “ not all rumors around here are true, are they now?...or perhaps you’re suggesting otherwise?” oh, sneaky. And Unfortunately, he;s right.

“that we are, L/n.”

A silence takes over the room. you finally take a sip of your water, relishing its refreshing taste and your body soaring in victory since you finally drank something healthy for once this week. You forgot how good water tasted,how heavenly its cooling effects were for the mortal body.

You wonder if he’ll ask you the same question. and to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t. you don’t pay any mind to it, treating the silence as a peaceful one rather than awkward as you walk up to the windows to view the stars.

Stargazing has always been a favorite activity of yours, even if you’ve travelled all thw galaxies. There’s something about these glimmering dots up on the sky that leaves you in a blissful daze, deep in thought with no grief or heartache polluting your mind. They bring you a sense of clarity, of peace.

A frustrated groan gets you out of your daze as you slightly flinch, giving a small glance back at Ratio. He seemed stuck in his own mind, glaring at the pristine looking book he had in his hands as he seemingly scribbled out something from it with a disgruntled look. Soon, the discontempt expression becomes one of scholarly intrigue once again, and he taps his pencil on the book as he thinks.

His eyebrows furrowed again. “must you be so insistent on your gawking?”

You could feel shame and embarrassment course through you like a large hammer striking your head. You immediately jolt your head back, away from his gaze as you huff in embarrassment. “ sorry…sorry….” Aeons, how many times have you apologized for your strange behaviour tonight? Why is it so hard for you to hide your intrigue for him? What's so interesting about him that keeps dragging your mind deeper into analyzing his every move?...”I…I don’t know what’s gotten into me..sorry.” you pray to Nanook to just come and strike you down now where you stand. You’d rather embrace death than to revisit this awkward moment in your life time and time again at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. You’re certain it’ll be added to the collection, a collection which your bring will excitedly choose from, like a child in a candy store.

He  closes his book, sits down on a chair and crosses his legs, his hands resting on his head.  “Is there something you’d like to ask me, L/n?”

You hesitate on answering, wondering if there truly is something you wanted to ask him, which would explain the strange intrigue you had on him. with a nervous nod, you reply. “…what’s...gotten you so frustrated just now?”

His eyes light up a bit, his once furrowed brows losing a  bit of their intensity. “ah, for a moment there I thought you were going to ask me my thoughts about your class again…it’s good that you can take no for an answer.” He hummed. “ Though, this current question of yours isn’t of any value either. for what purpose would I want to explain my current issue to you?”

“well..perhaps I can help?”

“Do you have expertise in the area of physics?”

“No.”

“then you cannot help me.” he quickly concluded with a pep in his tone, crossing his arms. “It'll merely be a waste of time for me to tell you.”

“well..hey now…” you suddenly felt defensive, as if you had something to prove, as if you wanted to prove your worth. Not only to him, but the entirety of the guild as well. “I’m certain I can still help in some way. Even if I’m not an expert at physics, that doesn’t mean I can’t give my insight as a magic expert.”

“magic is in everything .” You replied. “ it is the unsolvable, and non-understandable science. It is the things we cannot properly explain, but they still exist around us. so I’m certain that one way or another, any problem can have magic involved in it. Just like how science is in every step we take, magic is too. Science is the peace, while magic is the chaos, and together they create life itself within this realm.” You were too into your ramble now, too deeply focused to notice the intrigue in his eyes shining brighter, and his frown slowly dissolving. “ Hell, think about our creators, the aeons. Can we truly only explain them in a scientific way? Must we not speak of magic and the unexplained phenomenons they produce as well? magic is in science, and science is in magic. the solved and the unsolvable. It’s that simple.”

“How are you so sure your magic expertise can help?”

How could you not hear of the land of dreams? The land where all wishes come true, where all your worries fade away. the place where you wanted to isolate yourself in, the perfect escapism, the perfect place for shutting down the world,pain and grief around you as you wither away. a place which Screwlum delayed your departure for, then quickly assgined you to this professor gig so you’d never run away from reality. You tense up a bit as you hear it’s name again, but nod away.

“That simple…huh?...” Ratio mumbled, tilting his head. “ Well then, enlighten me, L/n. Here is my problem,” he opens his book, and suddenly, the notes and scribbles float up in a glitch-like blue font before turning into a holographic blue screen. Physic equations, circles and archives about neuroscience and dreamscapes litter the holographic board in a series of what you can only describe as genius cacophony. “ I assume you heard of Penacony, yes?”

“well, the intellegencia guild has been researching its dream-related abilities for a while now,” he continued. “and I have tasked myself with researching its dream-bubbles.”

He suddenly brings up a video in the holographic screen, which was showcasing a person touching the bubble and suddenly getting pulled into it. “it’s a new, unknown teleporter that transports people into specific personal moments in their life, often blissful ones. The bubble seems to produce a visual space inside its circle that only the people inside the bubble can see. “

“so…kind of like a virtual world?...”

“You could say that. But, the physicality and contents of this bubble are completely unknown to us..moreover, it’s not a creation of the family at all. it just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and more of it is producing out of thin air. I want to know how it’s made, and how it appears.”

“Well, the answer is obvious.”

“Is it now?” he looks at you incredulously. “What is it, pray tell?”

“It's magic.” you shrugged, and he gave a disgruntled groan in response.

His face became deadpan, a frown on his face once more. “ things cannot be that simplified, wanderer.”

“I disagree, Doctor.” You mutter. “ It's just that simple. Penacony is the prime source of a magic utterly and completely rare in our universe. Dream magic. These bubbles are obviously a by-product of it.”

“..dream magic…” he tutted in thought, hand firmly placed under his chin. “…so how are they made then? What happens within dream magic that creates these bubbles?���

“I…don’t know.” you shrugged. “I’ll have to see the bubble in person to determine that.” And from what you can guess, they’re in penacony. So, no, you really can’t help him, not unless you miraculously book a space ticket to that place and somehow manage to get there in time before tomorrow’s class.

Ratio stares at you a bit, nods and quickly gets up, walking away to the exit. And for a moment, you think that’s it. That's the end of your conversation, and the end of your lackluster aid to help him. that is, until he stops his tracks and looks at you expectedly.

“well?”

You froze for a moment, looking back at him confused. He gives an exasperated huff as his brows furrow. “Are you coming or not?”

“h-huh? To where?” you then huffed. “surely you don’t mean penacony-“

“ah yes, because I can most certainly teleport us there in an instant.” He said sarcastically. “I mean to my office, L/n. I have a preserved dream bubble there.”

“I see…” you cleared your throat, now a bit embarrassed by your own reaction. Truly, what is up with your deduction skills today? “lead the way please.”

------

The bubble shined with the wisps of light blue and gold, tantalizing its bottled illusions.

You were in a daze of its glory, the whispers and giggles it produced, perhaps from a sweet bottled dream, called out to you like a siren fooling a lonely pirate. It is in this moment that you realize why Screwlum stiffened in what you can guess was horror when you told him about your leave for penacony. Penacony was made for the lonely seamen of space, the siren of the damned. and you, were the most cursed being Screwlum has ever met.

“ well ?” Ratio snaps you out of your trance, and you shook your head and slid down the stressed up bundle of bile that was stuck in your throat. You take a few steps closer to the bubble trapped inside the glass podium, eyes scanning every whisp of magic and sensing its power.

“May we take it out of the case?” you asked him, and he looked at you with stern brows.

“any contact with it may cause you to see the confined illusions within it.” He steps closer. “If I am to open this, I must make sure that you will proceed with caution,wanderer.”

“I will…I mean, what can be so harmful about a tiny bubble?” Ratio gave a disgruntled hum to that question, giving you an earnest stare that you could only guess was demanding for you to be a bit more serious about the situation at hand. You cleared your throat. “uh..yes yes, I’ll be careful,Doctor.”

Carefully, ration clicks a button, and the glass podium starts deconstructing itself right before your eyes. The bubble’s once confined energy pollutes the entire place, overwhelming you with the intensity of its power. You take a deep breath, reaching out your hand to reconnect with its atoms somehow. To speak to the magic inside it.

“there’s so much magic…how can you look so…relaxed under its influence?” you huffed out the question as you glanced at him, seeing his unbothered figure. He looks at you in deep thought, eyeing your overwhelmed form as you are busy controlling colors and wisps of the air.

“….it seems that the magic affects you more than it does me.” he hums. “perhaps you are an expert at your field…but tell me, why do most skilled magicians always find themselves more influenced by the magical auras around them? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?...shouldn’t they be immune to it?”

“It's not a question of immunity, Doctor. Rather, it’s a question of how much you can speak to it.”

Ratio gives you an incredulous look. “ pardon ?” His eyes were filled with intrigue and bafflement. “Did you just say ‘ speak’ ?”

“…in my eyes, magic is a person in of itself.”  You paused for a moment, trying to hear the whispers wishes and unspoken stories of the magic within. “The most skilled people I know in this field are ones who treat magic as anything but an object. Some treat it like their god, others their enemy. The truth is magic is a living being of its own right, in a cosmological field outside of our mortal perspective…magic has lived as long as aeons have been around, and for some, magic is considered an aeon in their own right.”

“..and you, L/n ... .what do you see magic as?” he asked through the whispers, fierce eyes stuck on your expression as you try to pay your utmost attention to the task at hand.

“…a friend.” You mumbled, the wisps of flown magic going around your arm like ribbons, the whispers getting louder and clearer as they entered your ears and spoke of the unspoken. The illusion laid within the confines of water.

“…so you were correct.” Ratio cut through the silence, finger under his chin in thought, looking back at the bubble again. “…the bubble’s confines can be understood by researching its magic capabilities…”

“I’m not done yet, Doctor Ratio.”

“ oh ? Is your dear friend spilling secrets to you?” you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his reply, glancing back at him before reverting your attention back to your friend.

“Jealous much, doctor?”

“of you or the magic?”

“you tell me.”

“hah, as if.” He turned his head away from you, but you were keen enough to notice his small smile.

“that didn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions need answers, Wanderer.”

“suit yourself.” You sighed. “But since I’m much kinder than you, I will answer yours—“ you gave him a cheeky smile, and he rolled his eyes at it, further fueling your newfound enthusiasm. “ You see, magic is quite the cheeky being. They don’t like giving answers that are straight to the point. Rather, they like to speak in riddles only aeons could fully comprehend. But, that doesn’t mean understanding it is impossible...it merely makes it harder.”

“and? What have they whispered in your ear exactly?”

“echoes.” You replied. “Echoes of memories deep within the bubble…some familiar…some unknown…I can’t really link any of them together…and all I can guess right now is that the bubble uses its illusionary powers to create a dream sequence solely indulged into the fantasies and dreams of the people that are nearest to it…to prove this…I need a few answers. who else has touched this bubble that you know of?”

“hm…many people have but…the last person who did besides me was the student who bumped into it…I believe it was…” he then tched, as if the very name of the person gives him a headache. “ Caleb Stones…” he sighed. “..the most troublesome student I’ve ever faced…” he mumbled.

You quickly get to work, speaking to the magic that was now within your mind, checking your dreams and desires. Wisps of your own magic appear, and inside your conscious, you kindly ask to see Caleb’s dreams, to see his deepest desires laced within a dream. For a moment, you think to yourself if this could be considered as crossing a personal boundary or not…is it ok to look through someone’s deepest wishes without their consent? Especially if they’re your student? Nevertheless, you’ve gone too far in, and the magic is more than eager to show you the illusionary powers it was capable of.

Sounds of claps echo through your mind, cheers buzzing in your ears and ‘congratulations’ being muddled within your area of hearing. You see yourself in graduation garb, and soon, you can feel the strange sense of pride, enthusiasm and joy of course within you. you see a bunch of your coworkers, you included,looking at you with prideful smiles, a piece of firm paper right in your hands. You take a deep breath, looking at the paper with buzzing excitement, as a familiar voice echoes a speech.

“Caleb Stones…” as the voice echoes, you see a familiar face in the crowd. One that you wished to never see again. fall leaves, withered body, mara-struck eyes. “We thank you for your incredible contribution to the research of---“ Your breath hitches, heart dropping to your stomach as your hands slip and the framed paper slips into the ground and shatters.

You gasp, falling back from the sudden influx of magic as Veritas calls out your name in worry. You take a deep breath, trying to dissociate illusion from reality. Trying to forget the autumn smell and poisoned immortality.

“…I know you have like two hundred phds and all, but there’s no need for a check-up, doc.” You try to wheeze out the joke with an exhausted smile, heart still in a bundle of disarray. Ratio’s brows furrowed, grumbling in annoyed disappointment.

“…are you alright?” you didn’t even notice that Ratio kneeled down beside you, hand on your shoulder as he checked your pulse. “…are you feeling any sort of pain?”

“ eight . They’re only eight PHDs.” He clicked his tongue.

“you act as if it’s a completely normal accomplishment.”

“it is to me—“ he then quickly huffs. “ aeons sake, why are we even talking about this right now? do not try to avoid the situation at hand L/n.”

“I’m not. I told you I’m fine.”

“You got blasted into my office’s wall.”

“Well, that’s just a Tuesday for me. just like how collecting PHDS is a normal task for you.”

“ for how long are you gonna—“ he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and letting his frustration out through the huff. “ Has the sudden blow to the head messed up your mind? Why on earth do you keep bringing this up?”

You shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. “joking helps me cope, I guess.”

A flash of understanding sweeps through his gaze before reverting back into the same scrutinising and analytical glare. “I see.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “ what have you witnessed within the bubble?”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts and answer. “....Caleb’s dream. The dream magic was just a bit more than what I expected I could handle, that’s all.” you lied through your teeth, feeling the guilt set into you. yet your mind warned you of the consequences of showing your heart to another. never again will you let anyone see your fear, your heart, your humanity in its rawest form.

Ratio hums in thought, tapping his finger under his chin as he gazes back to the bubble. “….an incredible influx of dream magic that can  sense your deepest desires and create its illusions…..” he then gives an exhausted sigh, a small glimmer of weakness from a man who always seemed in power. “…perhaps it truly wasn’t related to its physics at all.”

You felt a bit guilty, knowing what it's like to be faced with failure when you desired success. “….the strongest weapon of a researcher is their power to admit they were wrong about something.” You tried to comfort him. “ if we were to just be stubborn in our ways, we would’ve never prospered to the point we are now.”

He stays quiet for a bit, his smart mind in a deep thought that you could only assume was speaking in an ancient scientific language or hell, maybe computer codes laced with socrates and shakespeare-esque writing. Whatever it was, it seems like your words left him in a silenced splunder. You merely hoped the silence was because your words rang true, and not that he realized you’re a complete dumbass who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

To your luck, he finally speaks. “….then a new research must begin.” He gets up, coating off the minimum amount of dust off his robes, and you realize how awfully squeaky clean his office floor is compared to others. you can see your reflection on the ground, and you wonder if this is what people truly mean when they say the floor is clean enough to eat on it. you think to yourself, does he scrub the ground himself, or does he hire a maid? And if so, is it a weekly,monthly, or daily wash? Your ridiculous trails of thoughts vanish the moment he outstretches a hand for you, and as you take it, you feel a buzzing comfort within your heart. It was strange, because now you’ve realized that you’ve….never really held anyone’s hands before. Only one person ever had that privilege, and he used to take your scarred hands into his soft, often cold ones as you walk around the aurum alley in search of vendors to binge-eat snacks from. Ratio’s hands, however, were the complete opposite. Despite being soft to the touch, it was far more muscular and meaty than yours. You could almost sense the years of training he had just by the weight of his palm holding yours. His hands were warm, deeply warm. As if the blood that runs through him is lava, a contrast to his cold and brooding nature. And once again, like the wanderer you are, you wonder, what does his heart feel like then? Is it as warm as his hands? Or as chilly as his attitude? Or are you just alluding yourself with these rambling thoughts all to avoid the reminiscence of the bitter past? Of the cold hands and cheeky smile, of the soft texture that were never meant to fight, never meant to shed blood or break. “ tell me, wanderer, do you have any plans for this term?”

You looked at him a bit perplexed, unsure of how to answer. Yes?..no?....“not…really?” yep, that’s the best way to put it.

“good. Well, sad and disappointing for you, but good for me.” he hums nonchalantly,only adding more to your grimace.

“did you really have to put it that way?”

“—would you like to join me in this research?” he ignores your question, adding further insult to injury. his words were like a bathtub full of salt, one you’d fear a wounded,emotionally sensitive person to fall into.”I could use your expertise in the magic field. “

You hesitate for a moment, eyes wandering away to the bubble once more, fearing the surging power within it, yet also, craving the chaos it contains. You’ve always been like this when it comes to magic. Screwlum has often called you a ‘magic-addict’, with Herta once adding, “it’s like you breathe magic to live.’ A burning curiosity blazes within you, desperately wanting to become the dead cat they always hum about, desiring the satisfaction that will revive you, the understanding of the world beyond you. therefore, with a nod, you give Ratio a reply. “…it’d be quite a pleasure, Dr.Ratio.”

Ratio looks deep within your gaze, searching for something, what that thing is, only aeons would know, and how desperately did you wish you could speak to them. He then lets out a sigh, eyes as steel and inquisitive as ever. As pretty as ever. “….just Ratio will do, wanderer.”

------

Ratiosimp :……..

Rina :……

Y/n : what?

Y/n : why are you two so quiet???

Ratiosimp :…….

Y/n : the fuck is ‘…..’ supposed to mean????

Y/n : pls reply with something other than dramatic pause in the group chat. I did NOT just spend hours texting in such excruciating detail just for you two to be dramatically silent.

Rina :…I….

Y/n : you are not helping.

RatioSimp : LMMMMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU FUCKING DUMBASSS

Rina: the REAL Ratio simp. Hell one could say you’re a future Ratio fucker.

Y/n: I hate both of you.

Y/n: I am deleting this group chat and blocking you both.

RatioSimp: YOU DUM-DUM

Y/n: STOP

RatioSimp : YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIND A NEW RESEARCH TOPIC FOR YOURSELF

Y/n : ENOUGH

RatioSimp: NOT GO HELP THE OTHER WEIRDO WITH ONE

*Y/n has removed RatioSimp from the group chat*

Rina : So when's the date? Or do you guys wanna skip that and get freaky in his office instead?

Y/n: goodbye.

You grumble in utter embarrassment as you turn off your phone and dramatically throw it to your bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it for dear life as you knew it.

Unfortunately for you, Byron was right. you were supposed to find a new research topic with this 3rd all-nighter in a row, not stupidly aid and accept the offer to help someone else with theirs. In fact, you should’ve told Ratio you are, despite others’ belief, busy with your own research. You just– didn’t know what exactly the research was yet!!

Yet here you are, now tangled with the man of utter mystery himself, the face of stone and marble with such a distinctive look on the world that you still find yourself trying to comprehend.

With a sigh and a hand through your hair, you lay your head on the soft pillows, the nerves in your brain all rejoicing at the prospect of you finally resting for once in these hellish hours. as your thoughts aimlessly drift by with whines and grumbles about everything, you find yourself fast asleep, trapped in a haze of dreams. Yet, through the mists of autumn leaves, blizzard snow and a space station bustling with researchers, in each and every illusionary minute of your dream, an indigo haired man is present. Like he’s in the back of your mind, stuck in like glue through every thought and theory that passes by you. and soon, as you stop acting in your dreams, as reality and illusion becomes one and you realize you’re in a fake, made-up world of your psyche, you stare into his golden eyes curiously, one question lurking echoing through your mind.

Why wasn’t Dr.Ratio a genius?

--------A.N----------

GUESS WHOSE BACK WITH ANOTHER FANFIC SHE’LL ONLY RELEASE ONE CHAPTER OF AND THEN FEEL OVERWHELMED AND LEAVE??? *points to herself* THISS GUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

But no seriously if this gets enough attention I may actually have the motivation to continue it. The main reason I falter in continuing fics is usually burn out, terrible and horrid attention span due to my adhd (yes I’ve been officially diagnosed. But honestly look at my fics man how did you expect me to be neurotypical) and TERRIBLE TERRIBLE perfectionist mindset. And I mean TERRIBLE.i swear to you, each and every fic of mine has like—a poor draft filled with over 10k words that im too scared to continue and too nit-picky about it because I keep feeling like I’m utterly deeply incompetent and that my writing is ass. So I tend to give up before I cook, because I’m so utterly scared of failure lmao. I’m hoping by scratching this from being a oneshot to a full-blown few chapters fic, I can break this cycle and finally finish writing ALL the fics I’ve published without the fear of perfectionism. I think a main part that helps me get through it is seeing people actually enjoy my writing tbh. Like if people enjoy it and express that joy to me, my perfectionist urge dies down a bit and I feel more confident in myself. But since I’ve been writing for either unpopular characters orrr for characters so deeply popular your fic can easily get lost in the sea of fics out there, I’ve not received the attention my perfectionist mindset so desperately craves, and so I’ve been lacking in confidence in my own work. Im hoping with this fic it can all change T_T

Anyways if you want this fic to continue PLEASE RAMBLE PLEASE COMMENT RAHHHHH it truly gives me the motivation I need to continue this. Kudos/likes/votes ain’t enough folks i need to hear ALL your thoughts elfknwrnblskbwr

[pomegranate-pen]

Folks can a duck tales fan come beta read my fanfic's first chapter when I'm finished with it I'm so scared of it flopping 😭😭😭😭

[pomegranate-pen]

Is it obvious I'm not okay or

I might go insane and write an insane x reader au fic of absolute multi verse madness in a way that is incomprehensible to all and so long it could rival dante's inferno self insert. Every fandom will be in it. It will revolve around Disney stuff. No I will not elaborate. It's like if kingdom Hearts gave more attention to the Disney plots rather than the heartless plots. Also yes kingdom Hearts is in it. Also twisted wonderland. No again I will not elaborate. I'm going insane thinking about it and I have this insane urge to write it please tell me at least one of y'all wants to read something crazy like that. Also the first parts are all about ducktales. NO I WILL NOT ELABORATE. it's found family. It's drama. It's trauma. It's bullshit. It's a small glimpse in my brain. Please tell me you are willing to witness this tomfoolery.

[pomegranate-pen]

I might go insane and write an insane x reader au fic of absolute multi verse madness in a way that is incomprehensible to all and so long it could rival dante's inferno self insert. Every fandom will be in it. It will revolve around Disney stuff. No I will not elaborate. It's like if kingdom Hearts gave more attention to the Disney plots rather than the heartless plots. Also yes kingdom Hearts is in it. Also twisted wonderland. No again I will not elaborate. I'm going insane thinking about it and I have this insane urge to write it please tell me at least one of y'all wants to read something crazy like that. Also the first parts are all about ducktales. NO I WILL NOT ELABORATE. it's found family. It's drama. It's trauma. It's bullshit. It's a small glimpse in my brain. Please tell me you are willing to witness this tomfoolery.

[pomegranate-pen]

idk if you'll ever see this but I just wanna say that your sonic boom fanfic is the reason I made my webcomic, ty for having that up so my 14 year old self could read it religiously

I'm actually tearing up rn... Thank you so much for saying this.

Honestly in so sorry for my inactivity, my life has been quite the mess, now having been officially diagnosed with ADHD and depression, I realized that I need to get my life in check before writing anything once more, hence why I've been in such a long hiatus. Writing sonic boom has been one of the best experiences of my life, something that I will of course still continue doing in due time, and I'm so glad that it has brought so much joy for people, just like it has for me. And also, I'd love to read your webcomic, if you are ever willing to share it.

Suffice to say, I WILL continue writing stranded, hopefully by this summer. I just need to get my life in check and get some things sorted out before getting back into writing

[pomegranate-pen]

.... Writing a ratio fic that's already 10k words yet it's not even 10% finished....... Lord this is gonna be another 30k oneshot situation isn't it....

[pomegranate-pen]

Daym sis !! It took you this long to finally do your reqs ? Better late than never ig, ok but fr tho I’m glad you’ve decided to do your reqs for lackadaisy. Cause I was starting to worry !! So I’m glad your ok <33

Anyways, may I req a Rocky Rickaby x rich (closer to a billionaire) Fem! or gn! reader headcannons? Who is kinda polar opposite to Rocky? They’re kind, social, friendly yet calm, reserved, secretive and kinda mysterious because of their status? And it’s not like they got this money from some distant cousin, they had to work hard.

I can also see them spoiling Rocky in little, subtle ways. Like when his violin is broken from his rumrunning, the reader gifts him with a new one, and despite having no note to specify who exactly gave it to him, he can probably guess who it is. Can this also be like a friends to lovers kind of thing? That’d be cool.

Btw u dont have to do this if u dont wanna, or u can do this later, No pressure ! Make sure to take care of yourself, take breaks and have a wonderful day !!!

Rocky Rickaby x rich!gn!Reader headcanons

A/n: what?? Pomegranate pen actually keeping her promise and releasing something at a weekend?? That's impossible!!! Nsjwjwjwjw anyway, hi dear anon!! Tysm for requesting, I will admit, this was very fun to write,especially since I really missed writing for lackadaisy these few days. Thanks for requesting!! I hope you enjoy this!!

-----

Maintaining a bountiful fortune costs your time, soul and trust and in the world where greed overtakes all morals people have, you always need to be careful on whom you let see your weakness, whom you let see your heart.

So safe to say, you weren’t so keen on trusting a place so deeply rumoured as the lackadaisy speakeasy, let alone become a sponsor of it.

Or at least, that was the case before you met the infamous bootlegger of the place, Rocky Rickaby when he suddenly crashed face first with your car in a farmer's field late in the night. You truly thought he was dead at that moment, you were certain you just accidentally killed someone late into the night because the exhaustion of your soul-consuming meetings finally caught up to you. but then as you got out of the car, as you tried to reevaluate the situation and tried to find any sort of farm or shelter that you could ask help from, a sudden groan of pain gets your attention. The grey cat looks at you with the wooziest eyes and the silliest of grins.

One of his hands shakily goes up to point at you. “…has the nightingale sent her prettiest angel to take me away?” His voice was anything but coherent. “…why I must be quite the lucky…poet..”

As relief washes over you to the fact that he’s breathing, at the very least, you notice a nasty wound opening up on his head, a bit of blood ready to gush out of it. then you notice the box of what seems to be bottles of moonshine that spilled with him as he was running away.

 Before you could think of anything else- you hear grunts, gunshots and yells from across the fields, and in that moment of flight or fight, you grab onto the concerningly lanky cat and drive away.

Through all your yells to yourself about literally taking an injured stranger into your car and running away, you also realized why you felt such an urge. Your brain has seemed to connect the dots.whoever this guy was, it was obvious his job was the unsavoury kind, a bootlegger. An occupation you remember having a long time ago, a job you remember being your worst. Perhaps,you’ve felt sympathy for the guy and decided to save him before things got deadly.

Nevertheless, with an abundance of self-deprecation and worry for what will be the outcome of your quick and on-pressure decision, you took him to your house.

Maids and servants alike gasped in horror when they saw their boss caryying a man who looks like he took a deep swim in the mud, blood trickling down his blue suit and staining your own clothing. You quickly ask for their aid and bring him to the fireplace, let the maids patch him up while you get a proper change of clothes and soothing tea as well.

 The servants urge you to go to bed, to be rest assured that when the mysterious lanky cat wakes up they’ll be there to explain everything to him. Yet, you could not let anyone face the burdens of your silly and perhaps bad decision (though some of your employees commented that you could be deemed heroic in a certain lens. “some might even say a tad romantic!” a certain person with a known interest for romance novels added. You dismissed it all.)

You decided to stay the night sitting by the arm-chair next to the couch he laid on, awaiting his clarity while taking a small nap yourself. With a grunt and roll of their eyes,some from amusement and others from worry, they brought a blanket and a pillow and left you be. Next to the lanky, drifted asleep and bad-shape cat that was covered in bandages.

You were expecting at least a decent night’s sleep, since there’d be no way he’d be able to wake up quickly after the day he’s been through.his body would definitely take its time in recovery. What you hadn’t expected, was hearing rustling and shifts in the night, ones you dismissed as servants just shifted around to finish up the last of their tasks, but then hearing creaks, stumbles and the sound of something clunking and shattering on the ground before finally, a creak of a window opening. That is when your eyes immediately opened, and you were met with the cat who was hit with your car tangled up in his own bandages trying to make an escape. You both froze for a moment. Him, being midway out with his escape, his hand still latched on the window, and you, still in your armchair with a frazzled expression.

 “uh…sorry about that….” His eyes trail to the ground.”statue?...” he gives a nervous grin while pointing at the shattered artifact.he then looks up and gives a nervous chuckle. “and the torn drapes.” He then looks around again and winces. “annnnd the shattered vase.”

 After that failed attempt to escape seemed futile, you brought him back in and briefly explained the situation. Rocky told you his side of the story- though, with a few skipped parts and avoiding to get into details about what specifically failed so spectacularly in his task to retrieve some booze.

You talk for a little while, giving some small brief summaries about who you are and what you do, and gleefully answering some silly questions Rocky had about your status. You found yourself enjoying your talk with Rocky, talking to someone who's so incredibly lively. You've been around soulless businessmen for so long that you almost forgot what it’s like to actually speak to a person, to forget about status and money, to not read between the lines of every sentence someone utters. You finally felt like yourself for a moment, like something about Rocky’s eccentricities and unhinged nature has rejuvenated your soul.

 Yet, as Rocky looks back at the clock, he quickly gets up to leave, needing to go back to his work before anyone assumes he’s dead. You tried to convince him to stay a while longer, to sleep for the night so he can heal up. yet he didn’t falter. He quickly put on his coat and hat, looking at you with a charming smile. He tilts his hat, giving a small bow before graciously saying goodbye.

What he hadn’t noticed, was that your eyes trailed his clothing for a moment and noticed something intriguing. Something that could hint at where he truly works at. A small pin, in the shape of a club.

  After that, a few weeks have passed by before you decide to finally visit. Your main reason was to just make sure he’s  okay and that his injury has finally healed up. yet a part of you knew that you were also deeply curious about him, and had felt the urge to know more about his life. Perhaps, he’ll rise the ranks like you did. Or maybe just like old co-workers of yours at the bootlegging game, he’ll get himself into deep trouble.

Nonetheless, you visited the Lackadaisy speakeasy. The place you heard a cacophony of rumours and chats about, yet never visited it yourself. The empty mine with dark lights engulfed in the room left a lot to be desired. something was missing, something crucial that was holding the whole place up together. The very few guests that were there however, were noneother than the wife of Atlas May and…

  “…Wick Sable?!”

Wick chokes on his drink, tail frizzing up in distress as his ears perk up and take a note of the familiarity of that voice. He coughs out the drink he was meaning to enjoy (even if it’s taste wasn’t really in the highest of tiers in terms of ‘enjoyable’), looking at you with a stressed smile. “ah…L/n..what an unexpected surprise.”

Depending on your relationship with Wick, this interaction could go in three ways. If you're good friends, he’d have to suffer a bit with both your teasing and Mitzi's about not telling you about his frequent trips here. If you're mere acquaintances, then though he’d have to suffer only  Mitzi's teasing about him being so secretive about his visits, he’d still be forced to explain his relationship with the place to you over a few drinks. If you’re known to be rivals or enemies, well, not only would he be utterly displeased by the idea of you finding his go-to bar, but what would irk him more would be how Mitzi will try to make you a regular patron around here. often shutting up any sort of jab or retort Wick has to your musings and letting you have control over the conversation.

 As you start getting accustomed to the ambiance of the mine and the piercing galre of the bartender, the man of the hour-well, your hour, at least, comes in. this time with his suit only a tiny bit ruined by dirt and tears, but still not as bad as his awful state when you first found him.

His eyes beam when he sees you, and he immediately starts flirting with lines of poetry and song while he shoves the cart of illicit beverages he found into a small orange cat;s hands and takes the abandoned violin that was on the bar counter to strum up a tune.

Everyone expected him to be flat out rejected, to be ignored and maybe even weird out the new patron. But low and behold, the new patron merely giggled and smiled, matching his playful energy and cheeky jokes.

Safe to say, everyone’s jaw was dropped, while Rocky himself was beaming with joy and pride.

After that, you’ve become a regular at the speakeasy.often visiting the place to mainly speak with Rocky and develop a nice friendship with him. 

Your conversations with him were always insightful, since he was the very clear opposite of you. While you were known in society for your calm demeanour in different matters (often preferring to panic in the inside rather than out.), Rocky was known to be loud and spontaneous. No one knew how on earth you two got along so well, but you somehow did. He was able to bring charm and joy to a conversation, something that you desperately missed from your old life. While you were able to become the reasonable one in the relationship, often convincing Rocky to avoid causing some disastrous chaos that would’ve left the speakeasy in shambles.

Rocky’s clumsiness and acts of chaos has left him with more injuries and broken things than he can count. It’s something that you took note of immediately, and whenever you’d see his clothes, your heart would often ache for him. But you knew Rocky. You knew he wouldn’t accept something you bought with your own money, that though he’d act grateful, he’d somehow make some gleeful excuse to try to avoid taking it. And so, you’ve decided with the help of a few delivery boys to send these gifts to him anonymously instead. 

Now, though in everyone else’s eyes, Rocky doesn’t look changed at all, the keen observer would notice his new and clean clothes, and his violin of fine-quality and craftsmanship.

You’d often rant about your job with Rocky. Especially when you had had enough drinks in your system to forget the poised and strong demeanour you must uphold. Ever since you reached the top of the board, you’ve become a fish out of water. You cannot relate nor have any sort of fun with the people you’re often forced to speak with. Especially since the people in question are known to be incredibly judgemental and gossip-obsessed.Rocky would always hear your whines and try to cheer you up with a song, or maybe a funny story he can tell about another dangerous and concerning adventure he had for the day. Since he noticed how you always smile when he rambles on and on, and though you often give him a concerned glance, you never stop listening to him with a smile.

Another way you try to help Rocky is by helping the speakeasy itself, since you know how much it means to him. You sponsor the place and try to help Mitzi when she’s in any sort of financial difficulty, and you try to strum up some business by making your clients and fellow businessmen have meetings in the speakeasy.

This has created a sort of conundrum for the guests you bring. Because unknown to their own knowledge, they're often the same people you rant about all the time to Rocky. And so, Rocky always has the urge to somehow scare and intimidate them with his insanity. He treats them just as he treats Wick, sometimes even worse. He jabs, he nudges and he pretty much freaks them out when you’re too distracted talking about the business at hand to even notice his actions. And the worst part is, whenever you do look up, Rocky immediately stops his actions and gives you a charmed smile and innocent wink. As if he’s been as innocent as an angel the entire time. 

After a while, it didn’t take long for your maids to realize that Rocky wasn’t just some simple friend to you, but in fact, someone you’re into. And they made this theory of theirs become known to you when they suddenly start asking for details about your day at the speakeasy, specifically your hangouts with Rocky. You try to deny it at first, but you couldn’t help but admit that something about Rocky was different from others. To you, your friendship with Rocky was an entirely new and incredible experience, an experience that you cherish deeply, and…you wouldn’t mind for it to become something more.

So,you start initiating the flirtations, ones that Rocky immediately answers back with equal amounts of enthusiasm. Slowly but surely, your hangouts have become dates, and your rants have become more personal.

soon enough, and in the other’s point of view, shockingly so, you two have become a couple. An incredibly cheesy one at that.

 For a moment, everyone thought perhaps this was a sugar baby type of situation. That was until they all wondered what on earth could their lackluster bootlegger and not-half-bad violinist Rocky Rickaby offer in the sugar baby aspect of it all? they all came out with an utterly empty answer. However, though the relationship was far from such a thing, it doesn’t mean you don’t like showering Rocky with gifts all the time. Especially since you firmly believe he deserves at least some sort of nice luxury in his life. You’d often try to do the same old trick of anonymously gifting them, but he has caught you once in the act, and with a bountiful amount of kisses has convinced you to drop the whole act.

Rocky may at first be in somewhat of a denial for such attention. Though he will gawk, be giddy and awe-struck about the amount of gifts he is receiving, a part of him would also somehow feel guilty for it. like he doesn’t deserve such nice things in life. it’s a guilt that you quickly scold him for, and as punishment by even more gifts for him than before.

Though you are of high-status, both you and Rocky still prefer dates in the dark streets of Mississippi rather than any luxurious restaurant. You once tried to go to one  of course, but the night has ended with the kitchen going on fire and Rocky somehow freeing all the lobsters from their tanks. Nevertheless, it was still a great night, one where you couldn’t help but laugh in pure freedom because you felt all the societal pressure in your shoulders wash away. It didn't matter who the guests were in that restaurant, it was of no importance what they whispered about you or your partner whom you wouldn’t trade for the world. All that mattered was you and Rocky, dancing under the stars as rain started to pour.

Teasing Wick has become a mutual activity for you two. An activity Mitzi even joins in from time to time. Lord knows how many jabs Wick has to put up with whenever you both are at the speakeasy at the same time (which unfortunately for him, is quite the common occurrence.) it’s gotten to the point where whenever he sees you two together he gives out an exhausted sigh and asks Viktor to give him a stronger drink.

There are times where Rocky wonders if he’s worth it. times where the stink eyes and glances of high society get in his head a bit and he wonders if he’s truly worth all the reputational risk you’re putting yourself through. Those are the times where you must quickly go against such negative thoughts, to grab his hands and tell him firmly that he’s worth more than anything to you. though it never truly diminishes his insecurity in the matter, it does help lower it down.

You’re absolutely horrified and livid when you realize he’s living in his car. It’s something your heart breaks at and you quickly urge him to just come live with you instead. You have plenty of room to spare and would absolutely adore having him around. It’s an offer you wouldn’t let him say no to, no matter how hard he tried. You even offer to buy a house for him, if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of living with you. He quickly denies having such a thought, and in the end, he moves into your mansion.

Some maids are weirded out by him while others are a bit fearful. But they quickly learn to accommodate him, especially since he’s always bringing you into a better and happier mood. Hell, you even renovated one of the rooms to be his own workshop of sorts where he can write his poems. He never really uses it, preferring to work on his ideas with you beside him instead, but he does put some sizable amount of things in there. things he has definitely brought from his cluttered car.

Even though everyone had their fair share of surprised reactions when they finally found out you were dating, it was Aunt Nina who was the most shocked of all. she never believed Rocky could find a normal partner..let alone one that’s known for their wealth and successful businesses such as yourself. She even once wondered if Rocky has used some sort of devil witchcraft to steal your heart.

There are often times where both of you tend to falter, tend to become incredibly silent after a conversation that went wrong. You both have so many secrets you can’t share, so many thoughts and feelings that are hard to describe, let alone explain where they came from.Rocky admires you, he truly does. Because he knows you’ve worked hard for your status in the world, and that it’s normal for wealthy people to have secrets of their own. You are the same, you respect him, and know that his life wasn’t the most simple nor easiest. Yet both of you cannot help but sometimes get frustrated by the other for keeping important things a secret. You more than him, you will admit. You can’t help it. You don't want him to be in danger. But knowing how strange and unhinged his luck is, you’re certain he’s bound to get into deep trouble if he doesn’t find someone to help him. And that’s when you ask him, why can’t that someone be you? Why can’t he rely on you when he needs it? You’re not a simple person, you have more than enough resources and money to protect both you and him from any problems.

and that is when he asks why can’t you be more open to him,yet ask him for such an act? He knows very little about your family life, and there are times you skip a few stories and relationships you had with certain people you rant about. He has noticed, he just never spoke about it.and then, a chilling silence takes over the room. And you both need time to collect your thoughts before you talk.

In the end, you both reach out for each other at the same time and talk things out, and though you both know talking about each other’s past will take a lot of time and trust, you’re willing to wait for it, and will never forget that you’re by each other’s side for when you’re in need of help.

Though you both are an unexpected match for sure, that doesn’t falter the endless love and admiration you have for each other.

[pomegranate-pen]

Do you do yandere requests? Also do you have a list of rules for what you won’t write?

Considering I wrote an entire 30k yandere fic, yes, I absolutely do take yandere requests! (^_^♪)

[pomegranate-pen]

Hello! Are you still doing Lackadaisy requests? I just recently got into the fandom and your work is GOLD!!!

Heya!! Yes I am!! Currently working on a few of them actually!! Hopefully I can post a few requests by this weekend if time permits it, so feel free to send in yours!! ଘ(੭ ᐛ )♡

[pomegranate-pen]

my roman empire is the fact that dr. ratio couldn't get into the genius society because of how much he cares for others. my roman empire is the fact that the way that he loves and has too much empathy will be his own downfall. my roman empire is the fact that he spent so long thinking that he was enough only to be hit with the reality that the world and life is cruel and his heart is too soft for the universe he was born into.

my roman empire is that dr. ratio cares. he cares so damn much. he loved too much that it held him back from his ultimate goal.

dr. ratio they could never make me hate you.

[pomegranate-pen]

Incredible analysis, also I'd like to add that this is a true proof that Veritas isn't really the 'pompous prick' most of the fandom think he is. He's just known to be incredibly and deeply honest, to the point where his honesty can sting. I feel like he either doesn't understand or doesn't think it matters how his words affect people, because he believes his actions will speak for him, and if the person is smart enough, they'll realize this. Hence why even if he threw some insults here and there to trailblazer about their mediocre knowledge, he still does this later. He encourages them to enroll in his university, he still talks to trailblazer often without his Alabaster head and not to mention when he's bored one of the few people he goes to is Trailblazer. Because he truly belives they have the potential to reach higher rankings and knowledge. And technically, he's right. He really is. Trailblazer is incredibly talented, sure most of their talents come from being the very mc of the game, but even outside of that, in the main quest Trailblazer does have the brain power to solve complicated situation and knows what to do at the right time. They just....decide not to when they're with people they're comfortable around. And that's something that's so endearing to me. Trailblazer feels so comfortable around someone like March 7th or Dan Heng that they don't feel the need to be serious, they're so kind-hearted that they decide to lighten the mood of an incredibly tense situation by saying some stupid joke.

All in all, the relationship Veritas and Trailblazer have is one I absolutely adore. Even if their interactions are so few and far between you can see how they have respect for each other after the herta space station incident. I truly hope we see more of Veritas because I need people to understand how well-written his character is and how deep down he is the silliest man alive if you think about it like my god I need to examine him in a little glass jar and a magnifying glass.

I went to read Ratio's messages again and:

He encourages Stelle to enroll on Veritas Prime, a.k.a his very own alma mater, for REALSIES. Not only that, but:

He's willing to personally recommend her. P e r s o n a l l y.

And that's kinda surprising, in a good way. Like, I know Ratio isn't a condescending prick that thinks himself above others (or, well... There's a lot more to him than the condescension, is what I mean to say), but he looked at Stelle and saw potential in her. Veritas Ratio, the man who'd rather wear a fucking plaster head in front of his students because he's allergic to dumbassery, looked at Stelle, our resident unhinged raccoon, and saw enough potential to personally encourage and oversee her pursuit of knowledge.

Look at this! He's genuinely interested in her worldview and her opinions! He doesn't consider a waste of time to discuss topics with her! He spent the entirety of this message batch simulating a debate with her and sharing knowledge on the subject!

Again, it's not like I thought Ratio was incapable of any of this, but I never imagined that he'd be like that with the Trailblazer either. It's surprising, but in a very pleasant way? Like, "wow, I wasn't expecting this dynamic to be so genuine but it is and I like it". Honestly, I'll never not be impressed by Ratio and his particular ways of showcasing kindness to others/seeking companionship. He's such a compelling character.

Oh, and this is my favorite message batch of his. He feels tired by the monotony of his projects and he decides to relax by... Humoring Stelle? He goes and says "Hey, think of something you want and I'll make up a project" and Stelle, huge dork that she is, goes "Make me a cool weapon!" and "Make the Express move forever!" and he just... Does it? Sends a project of transforming the Express into a mecha?? Says he wants to disassemble the Express to figure it out???

It feels like I'm rambling for nothing but this is truly disarming to me. It's easy to dismiss Stelle as a goofball (and she very much IS a goofball) but Ratio actually takes her seriously and seeks to nurture her progress. Beyond that, he honestly likes to entertain her ideas and thinks that hearing her out is a positive thing.

If I had to describe their relationship, I'd say it's all very cute, in a pure and wholesome way, and I cannot believe I'm using these words to describe Veritas freaking Ratio out of all characters. This gotta be a new kind of brainworm.