#we had an assignment in institute

[pahorans-letter]

some church poetry

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

a nuance to the uni/school thing is also i think that like... for most humanities subjects in the uk you mainly won't have "classes" in the form of lessons (languages i think would be a key exception here), you'll have lectures which are a one-way thing and then seminars which are more discussion based and involve reading/prep work beforehand, and at some unis you'll have smaller group tutorials or supervisions

but like. the pedagogical culture is a bit different i think? it is much less like school and more heavily reliant on independent learning. you might only have a handful of contact hours a week and everything else is you in a library doing the reading or whatever; you're not gonna have a lot of short assignments and quizzes so much as, like, a bunch of research essays (how many will vary heavily by course and institution) so it's more like Doing Research than doing Homework the way you would at school, even early on in undergrad

and this is partly due to specialising earlier rather than having gen ed courses so you've got a much narrower range of modules to be doing yunno

(this doesn't apply to like, stem subjects. they've got labs and shit. god knows what they're doing over there.)

[anti-gravity-insanity]

HOW do people survive mentally without school? Like? There’s no multiple classes to focus on?? No assignments? No things to learn presented to me in a variably structured environment???

What do you mean I just go to work? What about discussion questions??? What about readings??? No tests??? No TESTS?!?!?!

[harmonysanreads]

Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

Synopsis: There is a wilted daffodil resting between the pages of Ratio's memories. Tags: POV Dr. Ratio, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Hurt/Comfort (?), Slow-burn (oh my), Right Person Wrong Time (oh dear), Strangers to Friends, Reader is Older than Ratio, We speak in the Language of Flowers here, Literary References and Allusions, Exploration of Academic Struggles, Jealous!Ratio, Exploration of Grief, Slight Yandere!Dr Ratio, My Interpretations of Ratio's Past and Ideologies (because hyv won't tell me), Brief Aventurine Appearance TW(s): Toxic Relationships, Toxic Family Dynamics, Implications of Physical Abuse (not condoned by Ratio) Author's Note: At long last, my ‘thesis’ on Dr. Ratio is finished :') I've been working on this fic since June 2024 and finally gathered enough willpower to push through the rest of it. I started this fic with the sole goal of torturing Ratio but ended up falling in love with him halfway through this fic- as such the direction may have shifted orz Please forgive any unintentional errors and get cozy <3

「 Word Count : 11k 」 「 Artwork Credits 」 「 Read On AO3 」

i. Panorama.

They say, the best years of a human's life are spent before boards painted with chalk scribbles and around those of one's ages, filled with careless laughter and weaving hopes for the distant future.

Veritas Ratio has always disagreed with this belief and backed his own with a multitude of reasoning. For one, those so crowned ‘best years’ are not to be wasted through wishing your fantasies would come to fruition on their own. Secondly, his experiences run contrary to the images illustrated by the majority of the population. Which, fall as it might within the grounds of personal grudge, has enough weight to not be disregarded entirely, he'd argue if necessary.

If confronted on his bitter feelings regarding the schooling years of a person's life, there is a possibility that the erudite Doctor will falter and then incoherently mutter something about it not being a downright horrifying experience.

The chances of receiving further clarification from that point decreases significantly and will be entirely dependent on Ratio's mood, which, isn't perceived to be the most agreeable on most days.

In the rare case that luck shines upon the inquirer and Veritas Ratio's stern edges soften with nostalgia, there will be but one name that'll leave his lips in an uncharacteristically somber cadence.

If certain events had transpired differently, the recollections of that day would've been far sweeter than it is now — but still, the parasite known as nostalgia begs to alter his memories. It attempts to soothe the cuts gained from reaching towards aspirations far beyond his capabilities with cursory glances from the sun, and daisy petals hidden in the crevices of dusty tomes.

In the days Veritas Ratio treaded in an environment where nearly everything was twice his height, carrying expectations no one would bother to understand, he'd pledged to himself to not fold before irrational demands just because he wasn't a sight one would normally see in an institution full of burgeoning adults.

He was no stranger to the attention his genius brought, far more so the unwanted part of it.

Which was why he'd stubbornly made his goals clear to his titular peers within the first week of his attendance, much to their bewilderment.

Any suggestions for free ‘assignment completion service’ was shut down curtly and neither did the prodigious new student bother to partake in other youthful activities — but surprisingly, Veritas's distant countenance hadn't succeeded in putting a dent to his overall popularity.

Perhaps that is the reason the requests for private tutoring sessions and borrowing of notes never did cease, because despite his attitude, no one could deny his intelligence. And that, ultimately became his label in that university. Consequently, no one went out of their way to seek him out unless it concerned academics — except one person.

Ratio thinks he might've been witnessing a meteor streak the night sky instead, because relatively speaking, he couldn't trace where you appeared from with just his bare eyes.

(Though now that he thinks again, it might've been because he'd not bothered to look beyond the white board of the lecture halls, haughty as he'd been.)

—And as momentary as said event, you'd stunned him with an inquiry that did not match any of the others that'd preceded your kind.

“Why are you all alone during lunch, little boy? Whoa, you're studying even now?”

He’d barely missed the astonished gleam in your eyes when he parted from marking an important section from his book in a flinch. The unacquainted sight beside his desk had put the functions of his brain at a temporary standstill, before resuming with a barrage of questions as you observed him rather amusedly.

The small smile that appeared on your face next halted any of those inquiries from gaining voice as Veritas's reflexes worked to catch the objects tossed his way.

“Take these for now. Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know? You can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of your health first.”

Veritas blinked owlishly at the apple and sandwich now resting on his lap, the words of advice you stated in a rather sing-song tone barely registering in his head as he vacillated between demanding your identity and scoffing at your audacity.

Much to his chagrin, you evaded his burning stare and waltzed out of the vacant lecture hall before he could even open his parched mouth, again.

(What he recalls first before this peculiar interaction now is how the usually mundane sunlight had embraced your form that day.)

He only saw more and more of you from then onwards, much to his initial displeasure. For some mysterious reason, you'd made it your hobby to nag at and subtly coddle him in ways that made any other passing student raise eyebrows.

Whether it be dragging him to places and sometimes forcing him to eat lunch or separating him from his beloved books to 'refresh his mind' at some other corner of the campus, you never faltered ; despite all the scowls and passive aggressive quips he sneaked in.

Only after some research did Veritas discover you to be one among the seniors and, he'd admit it somewhat begrudgingly, you were a senior in every sense of the word.

Although, that knowledge did not aid him in answering the most begging question: why were you going out of your way to guide him through the perilous terrains of university? He'd initially suspected you to demand recompense in the same ways the others coveted. 

Perhaps you were an expert manipulator, struggling to wrap up your last year in the institute and as a result, decided to prey on the genius through teasing words and coddling.

Ratio was fully prepared to face you when you showed your true face — except, his hypothesis ended in utter failure as that expected unravelling never came.

So, on another of your usual kidnappings meetings under the old oak tree at the far end of the campus, Veritas decided to soothe the scorching paranoia in his head.

“It’s because you remind me of my little siblings! It's been such a long time since I've seen them and I just really miss them, you know?”

He doesn't know. Neither the sentiments that are apparently driving you to take care of him nor whether you're being sincere.

Here's the most annoying thing about you: despite how much of a genius Veritas is crowned to be, he's experienced repeated failures in deducing what lies beneath that benign smile of yours.

At least there are formulas and theories to explain or, get closer to the enigmas of the universe. But whatever and whoever moulded you into your present state had clearly forgotten to leave a loophole behind for curious minds like his to decipher.

“Besides, I understand how you must be feeling in this environment where everyone is half a decade older than you — even though you like to act tough. I know that there's a seed of loneliness that's ready to burst into a giant tree with the right incentive and you're just holding onto the last of your sanity to not let that happen.”

Ratio's fingers halt midway through flipping to a different page of his book. Your observation silences him long enough to make the rustles of leaves permeate the atmosphere, before he forces his brows to furrow and his lips to quirk down.

“It’s rude to make assumptions about someone you barely know.”

The purple head watched as you leaned against the palm of your hand, as though the sneer on his face was nothing worth fretting.

“Aww, did I catch little Veri off guard? No need to be in such denial, I saw you gape like an owl at my words. But owls are my favorite bird, don't worry!” The hostile expression on his face morphs into surprise as you ruffle his hair with your free hand with more enthusiasm than required.

“Rest assured, I'll take care of you for as long as I'm here, little Veri.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you don’t.”

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis 

Little Veri.

If there was something he despised more than the shrill voices of his classmates, it'd be that nickname. You might've been accurate in your choice of words in a literal sense, but for the first time, honesty had bruised his ego.

The prodigy was not accustomed to being treated his age, he was always commended as ‘mature’ and being ‘beyond his years’. Yet you had never even bothered mentioning this and instead, always poked at the suppressed child that slumbered at the deepest corner of his heart.

What he loathed even more was how every repeat of that ridiculous nickname actually made him feel quote-on-quote ‘little’. No, how you allowed a leeway for that teenage heart to peek through from under a canopy of knowledge and caution.

Intentionally or not, you carved a shelter for that little boy to crawl beneath in moments that no one would care to glance at.

It was a matter of great shame although, while his teachers had handed him the basics to deciphering the laws of the universe, no one had bothered to teach him how to respond to such kindness.

Upon further digging, the genius was surprised to find that your merit resided in the top five of your entire year. While he hadn't taken you for a dimwit (he'd rather eat dirt than utter such sacrilege) his astonishment stemmed from the fact that he'd never seen an academic material accompanying you on campus.

He’d even thought your sole task was to bother him with your half-a-decade years old wisdom upon a particular session of agitation. But after clarity grasped his mind, he realized that his suspicions were simply baseless in an institution as competitive as Veritas Prime.

Instead of journals and papers concerning your major, Veritas often saw you seeking refuge in musings soaked in fantasy and your rationale behind such escapades puzzled the mind of his younger self greatly.

“And then the male lead gave a bouquet of bluebells to the female lead, declaring his feelings! Isn't that so romantic?”

Ratio scrutinized your form hunched over from giddiness derived from materials that appeared alien to his eyes, stacks of textbooks wept at the corner of the table in abandonment.

“Bluebells? I thought people gave roses for matters like this?” sunset orange eyes swept over the incredulity blooming on your visage.

You sighed as though he was the most exasperating person you had the misfortune of dealing with, “It’s because bluebells are the symbol of eternal and undying love. Roses are undoubtedly lovely but as you said, if anyone was to give roses to someone, everyone and their grandmas would have an inkling about what is happening between them! Giving someone a bouquet of bluebells on the other hand, is far more secretive and exciting.”

“I don't really understand but alright.”

Ratio almost drops his pen at the flick to his forehead, “So unromantic! You're never getting a girlfriend if you continue being like this, kid!”

His free hand whips up to shield his skin against further damage, he feels the muscles of his temple twitch in profound irritation. “I don't need—”

“Yes yes, you're too preoccupied with the pursuit of knowledge to bother with fickle things like romance blah blah blah.” Ratio's eye roll almost synchronizes with yours.

Veritas knows and he isn't ashamed to admit that he's not a romantic person. The path he walks on has no necessity for abstruse emotional attachment and sentimentalities.

On the contrary, what he abstained from seemed to be the centrepiece of your interest.

Your eyelashes flutter as you rest your elbows on the table, eyes searching for a trace of your wishes among the litany of bookshelves, “But if anyone was to confess to me, I'd want them to give me a bouquet of bluebells instead of trying to articulate their feelings.”

Ratio raised a brow as your sigh echoed throughout the grand library, “And how, pray tell, would they know of your preference?”

“That’s the thing, little Veri!” you snapped your fingers as though you'd solved the greatest dilemma plaguing mankind, “I wouldn't talk about these fantasies to just anyone. If someone was to give me a bouquet of bluebells, it'd mean that we're close enough to know these secrets and then there'd be a high chance that the feelings are mutual. No awkward moments, we'd know what we are without even speaking!”

The purple head observed as you rambled, the light from the sinking afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass shone on you. A scoff escaped him before he could stomp it down, his arms crossed almost derisively.

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

“Of course not,” your reply was brisk and simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Ratio's perplexed gaze with an unusual calm, “If by ambition, you mean what I want to do after all this studying, well — I want to be a teacher.”

Veritas couldn't hold back the surprise from soaking his words this time, “A teacher? Why?”

But you seemed to find great entertainment in his reaction, if your twinkling eyes was anything to go by and the genius isn't even taken aback this time; your sources of amusement would never be the guesswork of anyone.

Your shoulders shifted as you shrugged, “Why not? Teaching is one of the most noble professions out there, but it warrants great caution and wisdom. Hmm, come to think of it— what do you want to be, Veri?”

Ratio nearly flinched as you expertly shifted the attention to him, glossing over it with a fake cough. “I…” his throat constricted as you leaned in ever so slightly, “—don’t know.”

“Whaaaat?” you backed away just as quickly, dragging the syllables of that word to emphasize your disappointment. “Tsk tsk, so you're just studying blindly without any clear goal? That isn't going to get you far, regardless of how intelligent you are.”

He knows that, but what is he supposed to do if his mind blanks when he tries to envision himself in any conventional field? In fact, he considers it as one of the flaws of the educational system. How a student is always urged to find their place in the grand scheme of matters but never guided through them ; or, at least, given clear pointers.

It'd also be careless to label Veritas completely clueless about his situation. What he does cradle, or was compelled to bear was not borne of his personal wishes. But with time, his mind accepted it as his own, though a part of his heart always ached with emptiness.

You cleared your throat upon noticing that a great conflict had rendered the genius speechless, “Well... as for the reason as to why I want to be a teacher, it's because I want to help those students who struggle to find their way in this vast world. Regardless of where they rank in the merit position or what ‘status’ society has assigned them. Granted, this struggle may continue even after someone has graduated and while I may not be able to help every single person, I still want to try my best. After all, that should be the goal of our educational system — in my opinion, at least!”

You chuckled somewhat bashfully afterwards, remnants of it settled on the way your lips curled. There was something so succinct yet undoubtedly natural about that smile, like petrichor and he felt a pang of regret hitting his ribcage for not noticing it before.

Although it might not appeal to some, to many it brought solace even before the sun could sweep aside the canopies of darkened clouds.

Something that's appearance was preceded only by the tears of the skies, it stunned the mind that such beauty could be unearthed from a phenomenon so seemingly insignificant.

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism 

Ratio did not comprehend the value of your presence until he was deprived of it.

Due to certain circumstances, the genius had learned to be contingent with the fact that he'd have to navigate the majority of his life all by himself. Of course, ignoring simpletons and self-centered personnel came easy to him as well.

What the scholar wasn't conscious of, or was too prideful to acknowledge was the harrowing vacancy in some obscure corner of his heart that yearned for a deeper connection. It would take little effort for him to rationalize this longing with his age and return his attention to far more pressing concerns.

But it seemed that the more he tried to silence the wails of his feelings, the more cacophonous they became.

You'd spoiled Veritas a good amount, with your willing enthusiasm to tail after him whenever you had the reprieve.

So, when you abruptly stopped your usual pursuit in exchange of accompanying another person whose face he couldn't bother to remember, the young scholar was left to deal with a surge of emotions he had little control over.

Said emotions, were tame enough to be kept under check within the first few weeks as he learnt that the purpose of this sudden acquaintance had been for the completion of a group project.

Where the scholar's composure did start to falter was when you maintained your distance from him even after the fulfilment of said project.

And Ratio despised the sparks of resentment that'd flare up in his chest each time you'd pass him by while chatting so deliriously with that no-name stranger.

He was thrown in a limbo the first time he witnessed someone else in the position that he held and although he stubbornly convinced his mind that it was for the best ; each time the scene would replay in the corridors and crevices of the university, Veritas could see yellow hyacinths bloom in his peripheral.

He's certain now that he must've been losing his mind, or at least was on the verge of (and for such a childish cause at that) because he took shelter in a superstitious practice and ignored as many meals as he could in the futile hope that you'd come back and reprimand him again.

Ratio would have applauded you if he hadn't been so consumed by all those unsavory chemical reactions in his mind.

It didn't help his case that the first time he'd bothered to take in the environment, he was reminded of the fact that, you had others who'd accept you, but he only had you.

His frustration must've reached a new peak, because not even the most persistent of his irritable classmates were brave enough to approach him as he continued to brood hopelessly.

It wouldn't be long until he would gather the motivation to finally propel himself out of that dark space, but the method his younger self employed to do so, embarrasses the present him to no end.

“They did what?”

Veritas needn't open his eyes to picture your visage colored in shock, he opted instead to maintain his somber facade, arms folded, and brows furrowed to complete the act.

“But I never thought them to be that kind of person, quite the opposite, in fact.” followed your reluctant admission.

Ratio outstretched his palm as though enticing you to accept the news, “One can deduce so much about the ocean by gazing at its surface. The facts are before you, with substantial evidence. Whether you believe them or not depends entirely on you. I only thought I should inform you before it reaches the Principal, that is.”

He could envision your eyes oscillating between his firm countenance and the unseen prospects proposed by his words. Discreetly, he peered at your fidgeting and unconsciously held his breath.

He'd done the calculations before approaching you, the worry oozing from your gaze confirms that you've heard word of it from his ‘associates’ already and the fact that you didn't try to defend the person further tells him you've done some digging through the news portals of the university yourself.

Step by step, you've unknowingly assisted in concluding this problem.

The young scholar silences the quivers of his conscience before they can rage and foil all progress. As for this friend of yours, there were embers left behind from misdeeds of long ago. He merely reignited that flame so that those crimes would face proper punishment — although which was not his principal goal. To make sure you don't get caught in the inferno was, or at least, that's what he tells his conscience.

A half-resigned hum from you saves the scholar from spiralling, “I’ll believe you and will avoid them for the time being. Though I have my own theories, you have a point. There is no telling what is beneath a person's exterior.”

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

Your eyelashes flutter as you drift into a brief reverie, before fixating on his rigid person. “Ah, but what is going on with you, kiddo? You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?”

The young scholar blinks in stupefaction at the shrunken proximity between you two, the single finger beneath his chin with which you scrutinize his visage nearly burns his skin. He can hardly process what observation you're making through the dizzying fragrance of jasmines.

“I am in perfect health, as you can see—”

“For so long! It's only a matter of when that you'll faint while calculating nonsense.” you sharply interject and withdraw the searing contact. Strangely, Ratio makes no face this time.

“Come to think of it, it's been a while since we've had lunch together. Oh, I have so much to share with you! Let's not waste anymore time, let's go!”

There is good cause for why the wise warn against temptations. Bit by bit, piece by piece, oh so painfully obstinate — you fed him that poison, rendering his sharp mind a mess of inebriating chemical reactions.

You were none the wiser to the impact your fickle gestures made on him and soon, Ratio's biggest weakness, curiosity silenced the prodding of his conscience.

He gained little incentive to step far away from the leering shadows, as the brilliance of the sun made it so his fixation wouldn't stray towards the darkness.

iv. Tachisme

“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart. A man who is really great, it seems to me, must suffer considerably here below.”

Your sigh weighs down on the silence of the university's library, a dull thud causing a crack on it as you set down the tome on the dark wooden table.

“I couldn't help but think of you while reading this novel.” bright orange eyes watch the way you cushion your cheek against your knuckles minutely.

“Suffering, misery, sadness, whatever you name it is inconsequential to any human being. But I feel like, those who are labelled as being ‘different’ than the majority experience a certain kind of those challenges. The ones that are weighty on the tongue when they attempt to express it, perhaps inscrutable to even themselves.” Ratio mulls over your musings, briefly closing his eyes.

“Everyone’s experiences are bound to be different.” comes his easy response.

The furrow in your brows suggests the conflict his words stirred instead of assurance, “You take everything so coolly, but I can't help but worry for you. You may be calm and certain about everything now but there's no guarantee you'll always be this way. On top of it all, you reject close relationships, thus narrowing your options to lean on someone should a sizable problem come.” 

Ratio catches himself before his eyes can roll sideways, “Surely you didn't drag me out of a lecture just to nag me again?” his subconscious notes the reduced exasperation that prospect stirs within himself.

You often worry for a future that has yet to seize anyone. While the young scholar commends your far-sightedness, he really cannot understand the use of losing one's mind over events that haven't happened yet.

Thinking ahead is helpful, turning that habit into an obsessive frenzy is not.

He observes the way your frown expands, deepens and ultimately loosens up with a sigh. You refrain from broaching the topic further, another quality he appreciates.

Though you don't make an attempt to defend yourself, you refuse to voice out anything else as well, settling your eyes to a distant point in existence.

For once Veritas is ruffled by the silence, so he makes an attempt to change the subject — because counting your eyelashes isn't the most productive thing for a scholar to do.

“It’s not everyday I see you carrying something that doesn't have hearts and glitters on the cover page.” his eyes settle pointedly on the book before you.

You scoff, “One does not survive in Veritas Prime simply from reading light novels.” there's a trace of pride in your admission.

“Oh? So, what does ‘one’ do to maintain their spot in the top five?” Ratio quirks a brow, holding your gaze.

The witty response he anticipates gets replaced by another sigh, puzzling him for an instance, “I’m assuming this is about me never studying within campus. Well, I just like keeping my study space and my socializing space separate. Listening to lectures here and doing the heavy lifting in my room. It's what works for me, in any case.”

There's genuine interest in his next questions, “And what do you do when you get bored while studying? Or when you feel like you can't concentrate anymore?”

You twirl a stray lock of your hair, cheek still resting on your knuckles, “Take a bath to sober myself up, I guess. When your mind is full of garbage, your body will likely not be the cleanest either.”

You shrug, your nonchalant attitude renders his mind to a blank slate. For a while he does nothing but think about your words, though the response he gives matches none of the context.

“I feel like there is so much I don't know about you.”

It's your turn to be surprised, but unfortunately for Ratio, the sight is still too brisk. You break into a fit of laughter, wiggling your brows as though you know something.

“Silly little Veri, let me tell you something. People are like icebergs! We can only see their tips with our bare eyes but to know them in their full capacity, we have to dive down.”

“But the waters are cold.” the young scholar pushes.

Your giggles soften to a smile, “That’s exactly the point.” and you refuse to elaborate further, again.

To reach the heart of the iceberg, one must push through the freezing depths of the ocean. Whether Veritas Ratio has that willpower, is a question left for his future self.

v. Sotto in su

As the days lapsed, more and more memories anchored themselves in Ratio's mind. They brought with them a different seed of emotion, every exchange with his enigmatic senior nurtured and coaxed it to sprout tender leaves.

Before his syllabus could be replaced, the fact had been known to everyone regardless of their relation to the prodigy. If your recurring appearances in Ratio's life and his noticeable tolerance for your presence was anything to go by, it was apparent to anyone with a conscious mind that his opinion of you was at a level above everyone else's.

Exchanges between different years wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, but a friendship with the notoriously detached prodigy was an understandable bewilderment. Though, the students at Veritas Prime quickly learned to use it to their advantage rather than criticizing it — a unanimous realization that Ratio was just a bit more agreeable in your presence.

Not that Ratio was unaware of their schemes, the fact that they construed that he'd tolerate them solely because of your connection further cemented his belief that all these wannabe researchers were still light-years away from the truth they speak to seek.

Albeit, after noticing that he'd been more approachable for students who genuinely wanted to learn rather than to fulfill some pecuniary purpose — he begrudgingly admitted that, there was an influence taking place.

Veritas swiftly ignored the rumors. While not one to waste his time, being with you brought along perspectives that challenged his thinking style. To him, truth has always been beautiful because it will not change, even through the failures in understanding it.

But you're a human being, change is rooted in your constitution.

The cycle of erosion and accretion that makes you you hinders even a brilliant scholar like him in grasping the characteristics of your soul. This form of beauty he was not acquainted with before, admittedly.

Relying too much on either rigidity or malleability will pose problems. It is through the search of a balance can we discover the answers.

It may not be obvious at first glance, but you aspire to guide others through the murky depths of ignorance while pondering this apparent equilibrium — since neither extremes can be eliminated. As strange as that selflessness initially appeared to him, Ratio has developed a sense of respect for your ambitions.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it seemed as though you knew exactly what was transpiring.

In fact, you were conscious of a lot of things ; it's just that you preferred to pretend that you didn't for reasons that he hasn't comprehended yet.

For the longest time he interpreted that thoughtful sparkle in your eyes as just another play of light. Whenever his reactions to your teasing would come off as more animated than last and the flush that he'd try so hard to not let extend to his cheeks do just that — you'd have that nearly imperceptible realization reflected in your eyes. It scratched at the parchedness Ratio hadn't even recognized to be there.

His fear was confirmed to be true one afternoon in a vacant lecture hall, though not through words.

“Is this for me?” sunset orange eyes shone against the shadows that fell on his back.

“Well, do you see anyone else here?” your huff and his eyeroll synchronize.

You patiently held the book covered in elaborate illustrations of flowers for his taking, though what captured the scholar's attention most was the single yellow bloom tied atop with a violet ribbon on the book. He recognized the book to be a copy of the floriography manual he often saw tucked between your collections.

“You’re probably wondering ‘what value will this book bring to you’. Well, as I've said before, studious scholars should never limit their perspectives.” you almost shove the gift into his hands in response to his stunned countenance.

“And,” an accidental brush of your fingers against his hand sends an unwanted shudder through his arteries, “Happy birthday, little Veri.”

You withdraw just as quickly, the hues of the setting sun softening the smile on your face.

Ratio forces himself to look elsewhere, "You're still going to use that ridiculous nickname, huh? What a way to welcome me into adulthood." he mutters, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste that he tries to mask with sarcasm.

He feels your chuckle probing at his heart, taunting the quickened pace in which it revolts against its cage. You shift your gaze to the golden petals resting atop the book, a somber sigh tumbling from your lips.

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

Many see fit to celebrate their first step into adulthood with enthusiastic celebrations, Ratio's eighteenth birthday brought with it a clinging bittersweetness — not that he allowed himself to dwell on it for long, his future plans taking precedence over sentiments.

The lone daffodil had been tucked between a random section of the book you gifted, hidden away from his sight. The border between cowardice and courage was thin, nearly translucent in the manner the result dictated what it would turn out to be.

The journey of uncovering the mysteries of the universe is a similar pursuit. Emerge victorious and you'll be brave, fail and you'll be heralded foolish. Ratio was far from a coward or a foolish man, sometimes not going head-fast into uncertain territories is the mark of intelligence.

He allowed the daffodil to wilt and turned not a page, for he knew in some deep crevice of his subconscious that it'd blight the clarity of his mind with another flood of emotions he did not have the capacity to process.

Luckily, his agony met a premature end as you departed from Veritas Prime by the end of the year with a certificate in hand.

Who knows how many sleepless nights and crushed dreams paved the path for the ink lines on that single piece of parchment. Ratio had been there as the first to congratulate you, it was the least he could do.

He did not proceed farther than that, as you'd made it clear that there would forever be a line he would be unable to trespass.

Ratio was fully aware of the limitations the silly crush that accumulated over the time in your acquaintance brought and he expressed no interest in pushing those boundaries either.

He found solace in the fact that he'd met you at all. He wouldn't say you illuminated his life, for even you always believed it was the individual themselves who possessed that power.

You nudged him towards the path to find his light and that lesson, he wanted to honor all his life.

The memories of your time would stay treasured in his mind and the curve of your smile would be preserved in marble. Without the echo that his ears yearned to capture, he saw fit to isolate his senses from unnecessary stimulation.

Though you'd never grace the corridors of Veritas Prime again, the footprints of your presence etched deep in the genius's memories would never fade.

vi. Trompe l'oeil

His next encounter with you was a tad unexpected, just at the horizon of Ratio putting the full stop to his years at the university.

Veritas’s fingers slackened around the handle of his umbrella, a page or two of the manuscript of his thesis slipping past his grip and drifting along the roaring wind — but his eyes couldn't chase after them. Much too fixated on the way your shoulder bumped with theirs, not at all by accident.

The rain soon cloaked your figures from his spying gaze, the droplets soaking the ends of his clothes failed still to snatch his attention away. In spite of the thunderous cries of the sky, the echo of your laugh was all he could hear.

—

Time never ceased its relentless march; life followed its direction and events moulded more memories.

For the sake of productivity, he had no choice but to push back his curiosity and stay away from your life. His studies and workload helped generously in keeping his mind from wandering to frightful territories at inconvenient instances, though a certain spark nestled deep somewhere in his subconscious.

Before long, his name resounded far beyond the gates of Veritas Prime.

Veritas Ratio, now Dr. Ratio, felt his nerves flare again as he looked at the latest discussions on the university’s online forum, the words “Dr. Ratio Will Surely Snag A Place At The Genius Society, Won’t He?” in bold only tickled his annoyance further.

Ordinarily, he would stay as far away as possible from discussions concerning himself — which was easier said than done.

Aggrandizing anything always leads to disappointment. Ratio's surroundings loved to goad his path, but he knew, such chatter would morph to whispers the moment their expectations were proven false.

Dr. Ratio’s brooding came to a halt at the collision, his reflexes acted and he clasped onto the stranger’s arm before they could fall. He heard leaves crunching under his boots, strangers threw cursory glances at the near-accident. 

His lips parted in what a spectator could assume to be the beginning of an apology, but paused upon noticing the words resignation letter on the paper in the stranger's grasp.

Orange eyes flickered, trailing upward, within the fabric of scarlet you burrowed deep in search of comfort from the scare.

You mimicked his earlier attempt, craning your neck for a second to meet his gaze and halting in recognition.

“Veritas… Ratio?”

The addressed scholar blinks, blurting out before he could think, “That’s not what you used to call me.”

There's a scintilla of surprise in your eyes at his unintentional jest, he anticipates a laugh next, but only an awkward quirk of your lips greets him.

Your eyes dart around your environment, before returning to his grasp. Feeling the weight of your stare, he releases his hold with a fake cough.

“I… apologize.” his hand found refuge on the nape of his neck.

“It’s okay, accidents... happen, you know.” you wave him off with your free hand.

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

It might've just been Ratio’s misjudgement, but he felt as if you were about to run away for a millisecond. Your fingers tightened around the paper in your hold, you gathered yourself with a deep inhale.

“Congratulations on obtaining your fourth doctorate degree! I often discuss your papers in my classes, you are an inspiration to so many people.”

A flicker of sunlight filtered through the leaves above fell and there appeared that smile he knew. Years had gone by, yet the mystery in it remained still out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he tilted his head downward, “I’m glad to hear that you pursued your dream.”

Ratio sneaked a glance, your nod faded into silence. His gaze lingered on your face, the concentrated flush on your right cheek made his brows furrow.

He was no fool to the tension in the air and your unusual fidgety demeanor. He briefly contemplated if he should just depart.

However, he couldn't deny the fact that questions had accumulated throughout the interval of your absence from his life. The differences between the you before him and the you from his memories begged him to probe, to study and learn.

He felt himself drawn to the paper in your hand again, a glint on your ring finger caught his eye. Among the myriad of inquiries battling to escape his lips, the one that’d warred the longest emerged victorious.

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

Your flighty gaze froze to confusion for a moment as you tried to decode his words, Ratio mirrored your gaze as you failed to answer. You quickly blinked away any hints of shock, a forceful bite stopped the trembling of your lips.

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

“Can we… talk somewhere else?” you suggested. Despite it being the middle of autumn, there's a storm brewing in your eyes. 

—

Veritas could see splinters on the cup in his grip, the dark beverage within threatening to spill.

A passing waitress threw the table a concerned glance, but could not find the courage to intervene. The sight of your antsy wringing of hands in his peripheral alerted him to breathe. He loosened his grip on the poor cup of coffee just in time, a burdened exhale following suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So, what do you intend to do now?”

You fiddled with the band on your ring finger ; within the vacancy of the cafe, to Ratio, it felt as if even such an insignificant gesture gained voice.

The insistence of your silence prompted him to continue, “The culmination of your hard-work, one that stole almost all of your life ; all of those sleepless nights, unsaid sacrifices for the sole wish of helping others — all of it, you're going to let go, just like that? Just because an idiot claims they know better?”

Dr. Ratio could not understand, no matter which angle he looked at it from. The answer to your dilemma was crystal clear to the scholar, he’d be willing to bet it’d be clear to anyone with a functioning brain — and yet, you hesitate.

You continue to shuffle and avert your gaze, sometimes parting your lips to speak but withdrawing the next second.

A person that's found the tunnel’s end should run towards it, but you remain at the precipice of darkness.

“I…” The purple head straightens up at the sound of your voice, it is weak, hopeless ; a complete stranger to who you once were.

You abruptly gather your things, “I’m sorry, please forget I ever said anything —” an innocent glass is knocked off in your haste.

Cold, your hand is chillingly cold as Ratio grabs it, preventing you from running away. The unnatural temperature of it temporarily unsettles the man, but the situation at hand prompts him to push the observation back.

You try to force your wrist out of his grasp, but he presses on, “Can’t you see, that they are ruining you? This is not who you used to be! Your so-called 'fiance' is destroying you, they’ll not stop until you're nothing but a shell of yourself and they can reshape you to their liking!”

“I really have to go —” a vein pops on Ratio’s forehead, the wanton glass hits the floor.

“And why go? To receive another slap from them?” he feels your palm dampen from sweat, pieces of shattered crystal splaying across the tiles.

You look at him in disbelief and he blinks, the sharpness of his words finally cutting him.

The incipiency of an apology gathers at the tip of his tongue, but you halt it from escaping.

“Whatever happens between us, is none of your business, Veritas Ratio.”

If your hand was simply cold, your glare is freezing. It stuns the scholar enough to make his clasp loosen, you quickly snatch your hand away.

You’re two steps in when Veritas rushes to add, unwilling to back down, “But it was still you who reached out to me.”

The scholar hears the pause in your heels, you don't turn to address him and he doesn't move to obstruct your path either.

The bell signals your departure as the waitress from before rushes to clean the broken glass, leaving Ratio alone with his thoughts.

—

Veritas Ratio has had scarce attachments to worry about in his life.

For better or for worse, it appeared as though the direction of his life was steered towards one particular destination, everything else proved to be transient.

While his surroundings eroded and flourished within the touch of mortal delights, he remained but a spectator, destined to observe but never indulge.

Love. A simple word, yet any singular meaning behind which could still not be agreed upon.

He saw it in the way parents cradled their children, in the eyes of a couple that brushed past him in the streets. Flighty like the union between another pair of his former classmates, strengthened like the wrinkly hold of that couple that sold flowers down the street ; its form, just like its definition, is infinite.

The scholar thinks he's felt it somewhere in his past, or at least the vestiges of it — within the glow of a cryptic smile and a mind that did not yield.

Troublesome as it’d been, it did not conquer him. Ultimately, he wielded enough willpower to move on.

Some say, brilliant minds that toil too long in the territories of the unknown, become dense to the simpler aspects of life. Ratio did not see the inconvenience in this notion for a long time, not when it aided him more than burden him.

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

If nothing else, it was clear to the prodigy that you had changed, for the worst at that.

The 'you' he’d known would know how to pick yourself up, or more accurately, that ‘you’ wouldn't have allowed things to escalate this far at all.

You would've left this rotten excuse of a relationship the first time they raised their voice, you would never concede to that fatal act of disrespect, under no circumstance would you let such an excuse of a human have such control — he… he hoped.

Ratio leaned back in his chair, a frown creeping in to his face.

For all these outrageous claims that he's been making of the you he was familiar with, how much did he actually know?

Is a year’s observation enough to grant him that badge of familiarity?

It is as you said, who is he to judge you at all?

Within the gloom of his study, his eyes unconsciously met with those etched in marble, the curve of a sun-kissed smile. He hand moved on its own, turning the table-lamp towards the sculpture and indeed, the light has always suited you more than him.

His recollections backtrack to the hazy gaze he saw that day, the encumbrance in them hoisting him up to chase after the itch for answers.

An uncounted number of hours passed, only after perusing a decent pile of tomes did it finally click in his head.

Ratio had no excuses or motivation to defend himself, he most certainly handled the situation poorly.

When the average attempts of leaving such relationships is between seven and twelve, it was insensitive of him to confront you like that.

Cognitions clouded in rage, he ignored the questions he should've asked, the sense of security he should've provided — the one you sought from him — and cornered you abruptly.

Foolish foolish foolish — he felt his fingers tug at his hair, breaths stuck in his lungs. Rationale does not always succeed in helping others see reason, how could he be so careless with you, of all people?

He didn't even know what stage of this hell you were at, how many times you’ve attempted to leave and what leverage they have over you.

Well, it would be most accurate to say he didn't know anything at all and yet, he arrogantly told you to 'just leave'.

The purple-head forced himself to breathe, the self-loathing could be shelved for a later day, what's more important now is finding you again.

He stood up from the heap of tomes, only to pause, does he deserve to seek you out again?

He betrayed your trust and you shut him off for good, should he even bother now?

A distant tug held him back.

Much like before, there is that line between you two that he cannot cross, must not cross.

He’s no longer a teenager in documents, but he doubts you see him as anything more than that ‘little Veri’.

—

The echoes of passing vehicles ricocheted around the streets, but Dr. Ratio’s attention stayed transfixed on the ivory petals in front of him.

A week or so had passed, the ruminations of those doubts kept him away from the confrontation and stole his nights.

It would be easy to cure this ailment, finding you would be but a matter of a few swipes. But that uncertainty, the ghost of a past insecurity, clung to his resolve. As such, peace abandoned him for a while.

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

He hummed without much thought, sunset orange eyes tracing the dulcet lines in those blooms. 

“ ‘My regrets will follow you to the grave’, it's not everyday you see someone looking at these flowers with such care.”

If anyone looked straight into the scholar’s eyes at that moment, they'd for sure be able to witness the cogs turning in his brain in them.

Ratio finds you startled once he whips to his left, your presence finally registering in his head.

A prayer, a yearning, your name escapes his lips. But any further speech is obstructed from taking shape.

You’re the first to recover, “I apologize for running away like that the other day. It… was cowardly of me to tell you to mind your own business when I was the one who confided in you first.” your head lowers in appeal.

He’s sure of it now, you must be on the quest of giving him a heart-attack, what with these continuous surprises you’re throwing at him.

Well, if not a fatality, they're at least doing a wondrous job in preventing him from processing the fact in its entirety — you're here, you’re here, you're here.

You found him, again. Just like all those years ago in the lecture hall, all those times he was skipping lunch, on his eightieth birthday and that other day ; it was always you finding him.

(Has he ever broken through his pride and cowardice and tried to find you instead?)

The scholar hastens to join you, “No, it was my incompetence in failing to understand your situation that pushed you to leave. I completely failed to provide you with safety when you trusted me. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

He couldn't see it, but he could picture your disbelief at his behavior. Your fist mirrored his, “No, it was clearly my stupidity—”

“Nonsense!” his exclamation earned him a flinch from you. He subconsciously straightened up to drive his point across, “It was me who —”

In the hurry and flurry of emotions, your head bumped with his, ending his tirade prematurely.

Your eyes settle on him, a car runs past your perplexed figures and then, the streets get cloaked in quietude ; before being filled with your giggle.

Against his control, his lips twitch and laughter bubbles in his chest. He allows them to gain voice and join yours.

You fan your face with your hand as the chuckles skid to an end, Ratio feels his cheeks warmed when he inhales. But none of you bother addressing the previous argument, its result apparent.

You take a deep breath and exhale. The scholar sees sun-glitter in your pupils, “I left them, by the way.”

That sobers him.

“Your…”

“Fiancé, yes. Or well, ex-fiancé now.” as if on cue, Ratio catches your now vacant ring finger.

“They tried to beg me to stay. But to be honest, it was not the first time they appealed to my sympathy.” you find interest in the pavement, searching for the remnants of your memories in their cracks. 

“... But I really put my foot down this time. And oh, I didn't quit my job either, in case you were wondering.” you heave, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And where are you residing now — if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m temporarily staying at a friend's house. Don't worry, I’m at a safe place.” you reassure, detecting the underlying concern in his inquiry.

Ratio’s shoulders sag as he exhales, the receding adrenaline dulling his worries. Turns out you didn't really need his help, not that he's astonished. It was in your nature to extend help towards others but thinking twice before asking for help.

(Although he's in no position to criticize, he so wished that you’d find it in yourself to rely on him a bit more.)

“If you ever need anything, just give me a call or a text. You still have my number, correct?” he glances down to gauge your expression.

When you nod, he murmurs a faint ‘good’ and silence takes over. He contemplates if he should add anything else, but the serenity in the atmosphere prompts him to push back those concerns.

“Well, goodbye for today?” you suggest, snapping him back to reality.

He raises his hand to do just that, but a different thought alarms him.

“Let me walk you home.” he pushes back the cringe at the excess firmness to his tone, rushing to add, “Please?”

For a blink or two, you looked at him as though you’ve just sighted an alien. He assumes it's the ‘out-of-character’ tendencies he’s been portraying that has you double-check. It seems that he was not the only one comparing the present and the past.

Luck appeared by his side — or perhaps it was just your pity — and you conceded without any complaint, letting him join your steps. The scholar barely hid his glee through his gait.

The planet that housed Veritas Prime would get decorated in the lovely shades of ripened maple leaves around this time. Civilians gathered in groups beneath these scenes, some enjoying a leisurely picnic, others focused on getting their desired pictures.

Ratio noticed your wanton glance at a pair on a picnic mat, his lips tugging down at the tell-tale signs of where your thoughts ran towards.

But before he could do anything, you turned away and picked up your pace ; the pair’s laughter but background noise.

With some haste, he caught up to you. Racking his brain to distract your mind, he found himself empty-handed.

Four doctorates and yet, his mind goes blank when he needs it the most. He couldn't be any more disappointed in himself.

Just as he’s about to start a mental berating though, you side-step a rock and Ratio’s hand bumps with yours, their frigidity alerting him.

He stops in his tracks, and you do too, looking up quizzically at him.

He extends his palm, “Give me your hand,”

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

“It’s too cold. Are you certain you aren't sick?” he thinks back to the encounter he had with you at the cafe, the chill he felt when he grasped your hand. He initially thought it a coincidence, but now, he was really concerned.

“Ahh, this, you see,” you flex your fingers, a feeble attempt at warming them up. “My hands kind of respond to the temperature? Don't ask because I don't know exactly why either, during winter, they're usually cold like this. But in summer, they're very warm.”

Ratio quirks a brow, “Just the fact that it tends to happen doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, does it?”

“No…” you trail off, “But! That's what my fiance— I mean, ex-fiance would always tell me, to just get used to it.”

Your eyes flicker back to Ratio’s, the disbelief in them telling you enough of what you need to know.

The scholar ran a hand through his hair, he shuddered to ponder what other garbage they had fed your brain.

His sigh is carried by a passing breeze, “It’s okay. They aren't here to dictate your life anymore.” he once again offers you his hand, another hope-filled prayer.

You look at his extended palm and back to his patient gaze, your fingers fisting in themselves for a moment before loosening.

He sees the ebb and flow of doubt and hope in their movements, inching closer and closer to his.

He cradles your hand when it reaches him, your fingers slipping easily through the gaps of his. The difference in temperature alerts his reflexes for a second before he calms them down.

He stuffs your intertwined hands in his coat pocket — your gasp fades behind you as he resumes his gait.

Ratio does not dare glance in your direction, but he knows you're watching, scrutinizing him. It reminds him of the look you had at the end of your university days, the memory of the incident that followed makes his throat parched.

Your grip is unusually weak, combined with the knowledge of your situation, the scholar can't stop himself from adding.

“Have you been eating well? Tell me if you haven't, I'll take you to have a proper meal. But don't lie about these matters, you can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of yourself first.”

You freeze at his words and Ratio makes the mistake of returning your stare.

Seeing no change in his serious expression though, you shake your head with a chuckle, assuring him of your health.

The clicking of both of your shoes against the pavement is the only thing keeping his heart-beat at bay, his attention from focusing too much on the feel of your hand in his and the myriad of chemical reactions flooding his reward system.

When the coldness in your hand has been completely replaced with the warmth from his, you gesture to him that you’ve reached your destination.

He feels an unexpected reluctance in letting you go, something in his gut pushing him to hold on — but he ignores it.

You pause before opening the gates, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

He looks up in time to see your smile, it's not like all those times you’ve smiled before — no, no. This time, lilac petals cling to its corners.

Ratio covered his mouth with his hand, hiding the stupid curve of his lips from anyone's eyes. The lingering warmth from your hand finally allowed his heart to beat with fervor.

He wanted nothing more than to give you a bouquet of bluebells at that moment.

vii. Sfumato

The day Dr. Ratio returned to your side with the pledged bluebells, was beautiful.

The canopy of winter had begun to be swept aside as nascent leaves heralded spring, twitters of birds ornamented the breeze.

When fresh fountain ink meets parchment, it spreads with a thin halo of blue — the sky of that moment brought back this image in his mind. The sun found amusement in steering behind ivory clouds ; a cheeky, one sided game of hide and seek played with light and dark.

The sun made a mistake, a sidestep allowed rays to escape and fall on the lace ribbon of the bouquet.

Sun-glitter followed the lead of Ratio’s arm, over the arch of his wrist, finding their way from beneath the crevices of his fingers — shining, glimmering, as lapis petals caressed the tombstone.

How strange, didn't it usually rain and roar for scenes like these in those light novels of yours?

Veritas could not feel his breaths, it's as if the mechanisms of his respiratory system halted for that matter, he couldn't even feel his eyes flutter.

Idiocy.

He contemplated turning away altogether, what was he even thinking, bringing bluebells to the cemetery like a young lover?

A dead leaf crunched from his retreating step, the note stunning him in place.

Perhaps he should've brought the chopped off, bleeding excuse of a skull of that man — if only, if only if only any being, any listening existence in this wretched world would reassure him that it’d bring you back. 

The scholar felt his fingers lax from their cocoon, but he knew, that would be impracticable. If a life for a life resurrected the other, his fingers wouldn't tremble in usurping that leverage and bringing justice to your final moments.

But he knew, oh how the erudite scholar despised knowledge for the first time in his life — that it’d soothe him, but leave a hollow far worse in his heart.

A sigh forced its way past his lips, onerous was its euphony. Windswept locks of violet poked at the way crystalline orange held onto the engraving on the silver stone ; the name, once his boon, now his bane.

Splinters of marble flew, papers, pens, innocent objects were tossed aside like fickle trash. Rouge flecked once pristine alabaster. Midst the carnage, a book fell betwixt Veritas’s path.

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

Newspapers and channels boldly flashed the incident for a week — individual apprehended for the charge of murdering their ex-fiancé — before being swallowed by other, more fascinating pieces of events.

Ratio found himself scoffing at their tone, picking apart their every word and spacing, frowning at how quick people's interest moved on.

Indeed, the world waits for none. The ones lingering are always tormented.

With the last person in close association with you behind the bars of the psych ward and your acquaintances grieving, the scholar took it upon himself to deliver your files and belongings to your family.

But that decision turned out to be a lesson, the universe once again pointing out without mercy the mediocrity of his knowledge.

“Does that mean we’ll have to turn to the streets now?” whispered a little too loudly, a little too carelessly, your step-mother to your father.

Ignorance.

Perhaps Ratio’s disbelief had been too loud on his face, for your father shushed her quickly and attempted to smooth over the slip-up with a barely-strung lament.

But the scholar had learned what was to be surmised from this family, all of their next speeches effortlessly ignored by him.

So the reason you ultimately didn't quit your job was for them, Veritas's eyes dimmed. Feelings were never his forte, this messy heap of them he had no clue what to do with.

And the siblings you used to so dearly miss back in your university days? The second-oldest after you put back her headphones after he finished delivering the news and the youngest couldn't even recall your name.

Ratio seldom used the phrase, but it was truly a miracle he left that fetid establishment without causing damage.

He decided against disclosing your remaining belongings to them and instead, gave them away for charity as written in a journal he accidentally stumbled upon while sorting through them.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this would happen.

But you refused to confide in anyone, tolerating the farce of a content life.

Ratio could not understand, did not even know where to begin in decoding what was going through your head when you lied to him and what had coerced him into believing it.

Of course you didn't leave them, that would've been too perfect and too merciful an end and clearly, the universe would not allow it. Of course he needed to be shown how much of an idiot he still is, the extent of his wishful thinking.

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

But did you deserve to meet such an end? No, your life shouldn't have been shaped this way to begin with! And yet, it had been.

For long did he stare off into vacant space, casting aside the need for slumber, attempting to answer what was to be done now. The silence beckoned him, that it was nothing.

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

Perhaps the craving for this serenity was what had prompted you from not fighting off that axe.

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

When the haze in his head cleared a bit, he visited your grave again. Dust had gathered on the lifeless petals of the bluebells he’d left, the scholar tenderly rid them from the surface.

He dug a section beside your resting place and planted fresh asphodels. An elderly woman saw the scene in passing but did not comment, pity clung at the edges of her eyes.

Foolishness.

In fear of the tides of time burying the traces of your foot-steps, Ratio chased after them. The places you spoke so fondly of, the flowers and stories you cherished and the students you stood proud beside.

They spoke of your passion, your vision and your resilience to him.

They say, even a lifetime of ‘knowing’ someone is not sufficient in knowing them.

Although he’d known you for a miniscule timeframe, he squandered no effort in trying to understand you. Only at this juncture, did your nature become clear to him. You were an expert in keeping your lips shut, a seasoned performer of half-truths and no stranger to the art of survival.

It was no coy act, you trusted no one with your actual thoughts and motivations — that was the naked truth.

So then, it begs the question, what exactly did you try so hard to eradicate?

Supposing that this universe suffers from a common ailment, and it is so persistent, so adhesive, so elusive that it plagues the dullest to the most brilliant mind — that despite all attempts at curing it, only its surface has been scratched. And this truth had been so frustrating, even you could not stand back.

Ratio tapped his fingers against his desk, what other malady does an educator aspire to cure other than ignorance?

Foolishness? Idiocy? Stupidity? All synonymous, yet capable of clasping and corrupting irrespective of a person’s standing in the path of life.

To rid them, scholars, researchers and teachers attempt to disseminate knowledge with the vow of indiscrimination.

But Dr. Ratio knew, the oasis of knowledge is but a mirage in the desert of ignorance. For the populace to reach that base awareness, to recognize that mirage — that, is what is needed.

The scholar saw the early light of dawn from betwixt the crevices of his window, the hinges groaned as he pushed them open and for the first time — the sun embraced him and the shadows fell behind his form.

But the meteor that briefly illuminated his sky, is gone — as tends to be their destiny. He can do nothing but carry the memories of its glow.

—

Light glinted over the edge of the cone, approaching footsteps reminded the doctor to tuck it away from prying eyes.

Ratio tsk-ed upon feeling the absence of his headpiece, cracks on the alabaster had demanded a remake.

The scholar’s eyes met with the ones cradling the remnants of a bygone sunset, melting into hues of ocean blue.

“Doc! Didn't expect to see you here.” drawled an unfortunately familiar man. Ratio offered a blink in greeting.

“Yes, how astonishing it is to see a member of the Intelligentsia Guild in its corridors.” the doctor muttered plainly, the Stoneheart in the spotlight merely maintained his smile.

Ratio noticed his other hand to be occupied, “And what about you? Busy squandering your time as usual, gambler?”

Contrary to his expectations, the quirk of Aventurine’s lips widened as though he’d struck gold, he smoothed over the lapels of his suit. The erudite scholar subconsciously braced himself for whatever trick was to be brought next.

“Now now, it's not squandering if you're spending it with a dear person.” he winked.

Veritas caught a silhouette peeking from behind the blonde, “Meaning?”

“Ah, how uncourteous of me.” though there's a note of glee in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to…”

Dr. Ratio observed as a figure emerged from Aventurine’s shadow, the passing question of how he hadn't noticed them sooner was pushed aside as they joined the Stoneheart in the spotlight.

“My dearest, precious jewel or— how did you prefer it again? Hmm I can't seem to remember~” an elbow to his side and huff broke through his theatrics ; the vacant halls gained life through laughter, petrichor bloomed in their notes.

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

A meteor crossed the orbit of Ratio’s life again.

© harmonysanreads | do not cross-post, translate, plagiarise, copy on a different platform or use my works to train ai.

Thank you so much for reading!

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[nopanamaman]

How do mutants in the Facility live?

Patreon Loredump. August 2023

One of the most frequent types of questions I get are about life in the Facility. So it seems like a good topic to start my loredumping series with! 

Apologies in advance for all the photo examples, I hope they work fine for getting the vibes across.

Overview

The facility dome is visible in the distance.

The facility in general – or, as it’s officially known, the Zh. I. Alferov National Institute of Anomalous Research – is a large structure located on the border of the Zone. Its most notable feature is the massive dome surrounded by an outside wall.

The wall. In real life, the famous building of НИЦЭВТ.

The latter is a building in itself, containing offices, lecture halls, resting and dining quarters for researchers, as well as minor labs. All entrances are supervised, though not totally closed off to the public. Excursions, official meetings, TV reports – all of those happen within the wall.

But you will not find any mutants here. As you may have already guessed, all the major laboratories, anomalous artefacts, and, of course, mutants are housed in the dome. The entrances to the dome are monitored and equipped with anomaly scanners, allowing only authorised personnel and mutants to travel between its sectors.

Mutants cannot traverse the facility unsupervised.

What is the mutant classification system?

Depending on their anomalous characteristics, cooperability and method of containment, mutants are sorted into types and numbered groups. Individual mutant numbers usually look like XT000-000.

Let’s use Dmitry as an example.

Dima’s serial number is DT001-319.

The type constitutes the first part of the mutant’s number. Dima’s mutation is Directional Type, hence the letters DT at the start (for the record, KT stands for Kernel Type).

Next we have the 00X number. Mutants are assigned a 001, 002, 003 or 004 class depending on the potency and containability of their mutation – kinda like SCPs, yeah. Dima has a very powerful mutation he has good control over, plus he is sound of mind, making him suitable for 001 containment.

The last three digits are the overall number of the mutant within their type. So if Dima’s are 319, the facility has had 318 directional-type mutants on record prior to his arrival. This does not mean they were as powerful or had the same level of control over their telekinesis, just that they possessed a similar mutation to some extent.

How do different mutant classes live?

001

001 quarters example. Not too different from a hospital or sanatorium

Subjects ranked as 001 are extremely powerful, have good control over their powers and are, most importantly, docile. Since their mutations are very potent and difficult to forcefully contain, the go-to approach is making them not want to leave.

001s spend most (if not all) of their conscious lives surrounded by doctors. The latter foster a particular mindset in their subjects, where the world outside is presented as a place that is unanimously hostile to mutants. This is done by means of propaganda, reminders about their family’s supposed mistreatment and, in case a mutant has some favourable recollections of their childhood, gaslighting. Additionally, subjects are never left alone with each other.

001s get very luxurious treatment by facility's standards, with much bigger, more comfortable rooms than other mutant types. They're even allowed to have gaming consoles, TVs with VHS and video players, and their own bookshelves. Each mutant has their own separate room, which is kept under constant camera surveillance with the toilet being the only blind spot.

Special folders are issued to 001s before experiments with lower-ranked mutants.

Experiments held on 001s are relatively humane so as not to discourage them from staying at the facility. They do undergo daily checkups mostly designed to monitor their mental state. 001s are also active participants in experimentation on lower-ranked mutants, who they are taught and encouraged to treat as lesser beings.

001s are a high-risk investment, so their numbers are far smaller than those of 002 and 003-class mutants. Additionally, because of the potential danger they present, the institute is quick to dispose of 001 subjects by either termination or reclassification to 004. Though, if a 001 manages to stay cooperative long-term, they can become a very valuable asset for the facility.

002 and 003

002 and 003 quarters example. Though, they’re typically not as well-kept

002 and 003 mutant classes can be grouped together, since their treatment is largely the same. Both of these types’ mutations are easy to forcibly contain. The difference is their danger levels. 003s require close monitoring to not be harmful to others, while 002s are borderline harmless. Both types are characterised by general cooperability.

002s live in wards for 2 to 4 people, while 003s are more commonly placed in single-person wards to prevent accidents. A standard room includes a bed, a desk and a small bathroom (multiple beds and two desks in bigger wards).

KT got to take a dinosaur plushie to her room for good behaviour.

Mutants are allowed to borrow books from the library, as well as get drawing and writing materials. If they behave well, they can get a toy or even be lent a handheld console for a few days. 

002s and 003s have breakfasts, lunches and dinners together, and can spend some time in the playroom with other mutants (that’s also where they can play computer games and watch TV) – all under very strict surveillance, of course.

In some ways, their treatment is much less cruel than that of the elite 001 subjects.

KT before the DT experiment.

Though, not when it comes to experiments. 002s and 003s are very common, and are thus treated as disposable material in a scientific sense. The people holding experiments on them are a lot less concerned with minimising the subject’s pain or discomfort. Consequently, it’s not uncommon for mutants of these classes to sustain serious injuries or die as a result of experimentation.

That said, 002s have the highest likelihood of getting released from the facility, given they meet the conditions for it (more on that below).

004

004 quarters example. Basically a prison bunker

004 is a special category reserved for powerful mutants that refuse or physically cannot cooperate. This number can also be issued as a temporary or permanent punishment to misbehaving mutants. The 004 quarters are located underground and have the highest level of security, acting as a sort of bunker for the most dangerous subjects the facility has.

004 rooms are even more barebones than those of 002 and 003s. They have no access to entertainment (unless it is somehow required to contain their mutation) and cannot leave their room under any circumstances. They are more weapons than test subjects.

Do mutants receive education?

All mutants from class 003 and above receive basic education, learning to read, write and count. They additionally get curated history and sociology lessons. Some mutants, namely 001s, attend mandatory classes in certain disciplines to better apply their mutation. For example, Dmitry studied anatomy to know the precise positioning of internal organs.

Mutants are also free to study whatever sciences interest them in their free time by asking for educational materials at the library. Needless to say, most kids aren’t too interested in that, and are very uneducated compared to their outside peers.

Is there censorship in the facility?

All the media mutants are exposed to at the facility is strictly controlled.

6 y.o. Dima and his politically correct PSP.

The only movies, cartoons, comics, books and games allowed are those that either don't feature the Zone or mutants at all, those that show the discrimination mutants face outside, or those that are very obvious anti-mutant propaganda.

In essence, there are no positive depictions of human-to-mutant interaction, aside from ones between mutants and noble scientists. And, of course, nothing that goes against the general government ideology.

Can mutants be released from the facility?

It is generally assumed that mutants that go into the dome do not come out.

While they are largely dehumanised, the facility is still publicly presented as a sort of scientific sanatorium and hospice for those that cannot safely exist in society. Releasing mutants that know the truth behind the institute’s experiments into the wild is simply of no benefit to the government. So the majority are terminated once their scientific potential is exhausted or if they become too expensive to contain. As a result, few mutants live to adulthood.

Though, there are exceptions to the rule. Occasionally, mutants deemed non-hazardous can be released back into society. This is applicable to mutants that have not experienced significant mistreatment from the facility, lack the ability to talk about their experiences and optimally have been brainwashed by an appropriate 001 subject.

Have other mutants before DT and KT ever escaped?

The funny thing is, escapes aren’t a particularly rare occurrence.

Dmitry and Katya’s escape in KT’s Official Guide to Coolness.

Despite getting a lot of funding, the facility itself is very disorganised. Most of the money is blatantly pocketed by the higher-ups, so a lot of its structures and equipment are subpar – this includes its outdated safety systems. To top it all off, the security staff isn’t especially well-paid, so their diligence is highly questionable.

With all that piling up, there are around 3 cases of low-level escapes every year. Because of tight budgets and plenty of work to do as is, these escapes are generally brushed under the rug. The institute still keeps tabs on the escapees in case they happen to show up on the radar, but it rarely organises active searches or alerts the public for that matter.

DT and KT’s escape stood out because it was anything but low-level, and pretty bombastic at that. But even that didn’t warrant a public announcement for fear of panic and reputational damage. So if you’re an 003 mutant looking for an opportunity to sneak out… Hell, man, just go for it.

Wrap-up

That’s about all I can say about mutants’ life in the research centre, scratch some small factoids here and there. I tried to answer the most common questions regarding the topic, so I hope your curiosity was satisfied!

[ozzgin]

Yandere School Q&A

I've gotten some related asks and thought I'd put them in a cleaner format, so I don't spawn another round of screenshots from my inbox.

Ohhh how would yan school react if y/n got hurt somehow?? Also quick question is her parents also platonic yans for them? Thanks!! - Anonymous

It only makes sense that the staff of the school is yandere material, too. The students may rush to help and insist they've got it under control, but the school nurse will be quick to act. It's the chance of a lifetime, having you to himself, and for longer than the usual standard checkup. The curtains are pulled, and the "do not disturb" sign is flipped. Your injuries are not to be taken lightly. You'll need to spend all day under his supervision.

The parents and all relatives are indeed platonic yanderes! I thought it'd be a nice touch since I've never approached the trope before.

YAYAYAYYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAA MORE YANDERE SCHOOLLLLLL You’re amazing!!!!! (I had to ask to make sure I used the right your/you’re) also is the darling yandere gonna keep sabotaging y/n? - @femboybasil

The tying up incident was actually an exception to what I originally planned, haha. For most of the competitions, darling yandere will guide (Y/N) and aid them for a flawless win. That's the comedy of it: he's indirectly doing the yandere part while trying to be discreet enough as to not alert the other yanderes. Additionally, (Y/N) helps him with the darling tasks. Though that part is very much expected by everyone from school. The Daring Academy teachers are probably observing the activities, baffled. "Who the hell is that student? What skill...what obliviousness. They should've applied to us."

If you’re comfortable with this concept, (since it’s a school-based series I don’t know if the reader and yanderes are minors are not, if they are then you don’t have to write this.) but obviously the students of the Yandere Academy are going to need to learn how to tie up their darlings once they’ve been captured. Would you mind writing a little blurb about it since Reader is the unofficially assigned darling stand-in for their classes? - Anonymous

This is the ask I used for the tying up idea in Part 3! To answer your worries, all of my stories involve 18+ characters! Just wanted to clear it up for anyone in doubt. The school/academy setup is more of a college/university kind of institution. I do love a good high school setup, but not for self insert romance.

I’d imagine that there’s a drama class at the yandere school to help the students learn how to act and seem innocent. What if they put on a musical or something like Phantom of the Opera (because of course it would be that) and reader got the role of Christine or the equivalent. Imagine all the yanderes fighting for the role of their love interests to get the excuse to kiss them, and other yanderes trying to sabotage them as tactfully as possible to keep the show going, but replace the leads to be alongside reader. Think that may be something cool to add/write about? No pressure of course! - Anonymous

You know the whole thing is going to turn into a ninja survival shitshow. They had hoped to never cast (Y/N) in any role, for everyone's safety. And for the most part, (Y/N) thankfully never showed any interest in the drama club.

The supervising teacher held (Y/N)'s application form with trembling hands. It seems their little club had finally run out of luck.

Worst part: the school can't even rely on the teachers. They're just as desperate to see their cute little (Y/N) perform on stage. "Maybe this job is too overwhelming for one person, sensei..." they'll smugly tell the original supervisor. "We could divide some tasks. Someone else could train (Y/N), for example..."

ok here me out, what if there is like a field trip or sports festival kind of thing where the Yandere and Darling academy meet up. Basically where a Yandere and a darling are made to pair up to go through the numerous activities (maybe ones that test their yandere/darling skills) so reader decides to pair up with clumsy Yandere ( who is in Darling academy) much to the displeasure of Yandere classmate. Maybe like a battle of the the Yanderes? - Anonymous

This was a little trippy to read, because it came right after part 3, haha. Which I feel is basically the same plot. Though it would be interesting to see how it'd play out if the stranger was Reader's best friend instead.

Reader excitedly approaches Clumsy!Yandere and asks him to work together, to the dismay of all other students. They're enraged. You can see it plainly: their hands tremble, their jaws are clenched, their eyes have a psychotic glint. Poor Clumsy!Yandere is in constant shivers, unaware of the death stares. You're cheerfully guiding him around, his hand in yours, happy to see your friend again.

[maxdibert]

‘Snape is a child abuser’ is definitely coming from a generation of new Gen Z fans who weren’t growing up alongside the books and have failed to understand that the wizarding world is a reflection of 1970s-1990s British society and not 2025 therapy offices. Snape is an old school strict teacher who has methods - particularly towards Neville - that are mean and belittling and counterproductive but that also weren’t out of place with teaching in general back then. Corporal punishment wasn’t outlawed in English private schools until 1999. Nineteen Ninety Nine!! Historical context has been lost. Snape assigning cauldron scrubbing as a detention in comparison- he’s practically a softie.

He’s meant to be understood as a bitter, jaded, petty, tired to the bone teacher who has been held back by a job he’s too ambitious and too clever for. He’s not meant to be understood as truly abusive - because if he was, Harry would be deploying his usual coping mechanisms (conflict avoidance) instead of what he actually does, which is mouth off at Snape at every possible opportunity. It’s basic genre convention that every boy hero in a boarding school novel needs an antagonist teacher to put in his place while all the children cheer, lol. It’s not that deep.

Severus was designed so that kids at the time would see him as the classic rude, miserable teacher who ruins all the fun, is super strict, and seems to live to make sure you can’t do whatever you want. This was a very common archetype in fiction for those of us born in the ‘90s or earlier. He wasn’t created for people to think he was a child abuser but to remind you of that teacher who always gave everyone bad grades because they were extremely demanding, snapped at you for asking a question they thought was stupid, or seemed to live for catching students doing something wrong just to punish them.

We grew up with tons of characters like that (Miss Finster from Recess comes to mind—she basically lived to catch T.J. doing something wrong). They weren’t characters you saw as crossing a line with students, because EVERYONE had at least one teacher like that. The person we clearly saw as an abuser was Umbridge, but that’s because Umbridge wasn’t just about ruining fun—she wanted to repress and dominate the students. She physically harmed them and hurt them, abusing her institutional power. She was the character who scared you and made you angry. That’s why in the 2000s people hated her even more than Voldemort—because we had all either had a teacher like her, knew someone who had one, or heard horror stories about those teachers.

I feel like Gen Z doesn’t understand what it was like to grow up surrounded by boomers with zero emotional management skills who had done no self-work, and instead live in a paradise of Gen X and millennial teachers you can follow on social media. Honestly, they have a totally distorted view of things.

Anyone born in the ‘90s or earlier can clearly see the intention behind Severus as a teacher and what kind of archetype he represents—and they don’t associate him with someone abusive. Rowling wrote those books at a specific time for an audience that would understand that. I’m sorry some people were born 20 years later, but that doesn’t change the facts.

[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

The idea of Heatwave being a Wavewave sparkling but mainly from Soundwave tears me up. So I'll submit you all to my PAIN!!!

The idea of Soundwave growing up in the pits, fighting for his life, becoming a top gladiator but still being seen as the lowest of the lowest, but then, this Sparkling appears in his life. A little red bot who seemingly was abandoned or was not picked when it emerged from the All Spark.

That being their first meeting, Soundwave was not yet the Soundwave we know so he didn't know what to do. His best hope was that the little bot would end just like him, surviving on its own... or just die with no pain. After all, there was no one else but him, just him, and Ravage too ofc but really no one else...

So, imagine how stupid must he have felt as he took the sparkling from the ground and was unable to put it down. Ravage in the background wheezing as she realizes what has happened ¨Oh yea, that's how I adopted you too HAHAHAHAH¨

And things well get hard. Why did he do it? Was it some left kindness on him? Did he lose his mind? or maybe, he just compasioned...?

Time passes, he keeps fighting, Ravage keeps being annoying but is still there for him, and the Sparkling now going by the name Heatwave, was there too looking from afar. Soundwave had decided that the little Bot would not participate in the arena, he would just watch and learn.

Heatwave was amazed at the way his ¨creator¨ fought other bots who were bigger than him and much more robust in comparison. Tho he didn't wish to become a gladiator just like his creator, but he still wanted to show how strong he was helping others.

Time passes, they're a small ¨family¨ for all they can say, but they are very strong and united. In every fight, Soundwave participates in the entertainment of the upper classes, he kept in reserve credits so that one day Heatwave can leave the pits and form a real life outside the misery. It would of course be a slow process, but Soundwave knew that he could do it.

A big surprise was when Heatwave shared with him that he wanted to become a Rescue Bot, a particular job that didn't really fit in any of the class rankings that Cybertron had been using... it was a job that came with intense training that if failed, all the blame would go to the bot who failed and not to the institution who trained them. A job that was more chosen to do for the pure of one spark than the want to win something. Such was that it was known that the High Council would prefer losing 5 Rescue Bot units than one Council member.

The job was clearly going to be a dead sentence, but after a long discussion, there were not many options like the Rescue recruit institutions offered to give a semi-normal life to low-class citizens... at least, for the time Heatwave would be trained he would have a home with basic needs, and once out of training and to the practice, the payment would be enough to even feed Ravage.

Soundwave still didn't want to say yes. to give Heatwave permission, but, Heatwave was just hotheaded, he was promising that with this he would be able to give Soundwave the life he could not grow up with... the life he gave to Heatwave...

Soundwave still saved credits as he kept participating in the arena, just in case.

Time seemed to fly through this change. Heatwave met his assigned team and close friends, Soundwave met new bots too, aspiring and strong allies for both of them. Yet, their ideals seemed to change as their lives grow appart.

They still saw each other, they kept communicating, and Ravage always reminded one or the other to call. But things just can't stay calm forever. The pits and many parts of Cybertron considered for the lower cast were being destroyed, homes and families being displeased so the upper class could take those areas. Slowly, a revolution was being armed with strong bots taking the lead. One in particular, Megatronus, wanted Soundwave as his second in command as he saw potential in him.

Soundwave wanted to decline at first. This could endanger Heatwave in many levels if it was known that they both were family. Megatronus seemed to understand, and it seemed that someone else would take Soundwave's place as SIC... is it wasn't for that one call...

The call that changed forever Soundwave's perspective on life and on his own decisions. It was from the Rescue recruitment system that chose Heatwave informing him of... the red bot dead, with the rest of his team...

Rescue Sigma-17 had been deployed to help another unit very far away, and as it seemed that the job was being completed, the communication began to cut. In short, all signals were lost and no vital was detected. Both units had been gone enough time to be declared deceased...

There was not going to be any effort on further location or send a 3 unit with more equipment to help or to at least know what happened. There was not going to be any effort on finding Heatwave's body for a proper funeral, his stuff as the stuff of his team would be tossed or given to their creators. That being said, Soundwave and Ravage received nothing but a big box full of credits, enough to live a luxurious life in the middle class...

It had a note from Heatwave. Just like Soundwave was saving for an emergency, Heatwave had been doing the same. Probably not eating or working extra to have this amount of credits...

... Soundwave tossed all that in their faces not accepting a damn. As fast as he could he went to Megatronus and began their plan to attack...

...

...

...

At light years far away, after more tragedy had occurred. A small ship floating in the middle of nothing received a message that redirected t it to a planet called Earth.

Landing, four bots from stasis had awakened to see the beauty of an organic planet and to encounter a figure not many would be able to talk to, Optimus Prime.

[kidrat]

having feelings about trans Gwen,,, like there's the 'superhero leading a double life' allegory for being closeted, which ppl have noted, but there's plenty I haven't seen anyone mention yet! like, the fact her dad has a trans patch in support of her means she's out.

She's a young trans *girl* (as opposed to a trans woman) living as her authentic gender in a loving home. she went to her school dance in a dress. she did ballet! which of course boys can do too, but often times when people are assigned male they don't get the chance to explore feminine hobbies. It's really lovely that someone, likely Gwen's dad, supported her enough to let her have those girly experiences and memories, whether she was living as a girl when she took dance up or as a gnc boy.

While it's subtle rep, I still think it's awesome to imply a character like Gwen is trans. Trans girls don't always get to have a childhood. Transmisogyny fetishizes transfems and presents them as always victimisers, never victims. They're barred from girlhood and it's connotations of innocence, vulnerability, lovableness.

Not that Gwen isn't a hashtag strong female character! And not that she hasn't had to grow up fast in other ways. She Is Literally Spiderwoman and she plays the drums and has agency and expresses negative emotions. But she's also a teenager, and she gets to be hugged and comforted, and to be set up for a soft friends to lovers relationship with another teenager, a cis boy who respects her and only knows her as a girl and thinks she's amazing and draws her in his sketchbook. That is not a role the media often lets trans girls have!!! It's lovely to think young transfems might be able to see themselves in a character consistently shown as worthy of affection.

Of course, the fact that Gwen is in the closet about being spider-woman is even sadder knowing this is her second rodeo. Lots of us have hesitated to come out a second time because our parents were supportive about the first thing and well, putting something else on them feels like taking the piss or hoping for too much.

Something else I wanted to talk about is how Gwen being trans effects a reading of her Peter's death, especially taking into account the new information this film gave us about this. There's this gendered switch happening, where Peter passes on his usual role to a woman. What's more, he has to die for her story to happen. She loves him, and never wanted him to die, but she's blamed for it anyway. Her father talks affectionately about the dead Peter, calling him his daughter's best friend. He talks about him like a son. He vows revenge on Gwen for killing him. It's a fantastic allegory for how some transphobic parents hate their out trans children for 'killing' the kid they had before.

I think with the above in mind, maybe we can see the subtext of Gwen's arc with her dad in this film as that of a supportive parent who's nevertheless got some biases left that hurt his trans daughter, who doesn't speak up for fear his acceptance is conditional.

I don't think it's a stretch to suggest that protecting a trans daughter is this Captain Stacy's motivation while he's working as a cop. Obviously there's the text that he wants to be a 'good cop' to work against the institution's bigotry, and he displays the trans flag on his work jacket. His quitting the police is a fantastic story beat because it makes a point about the real world while also serving a lot of the analogies going on.

Good cops quit. They realise you can't be a well intentioned cog in a bigoted machine. It doesn't matter if you're a bigot or just taking actions a bigot might because you're working within parameters set by bigots. It's an important message. Within a trans reading of the film, I'd also see this plot moment as Stacy realising he can't protect his trans daughter if he's still playing by the rules of a society that see her as threatening and duplicitous. He's then able to stop seeing her on some level as having killed his son.

They're able to be close again because he has completely rejected the cis culture he was a part of, rather than just decrying the worst parts and slotting Gwen in. She no longer has to worry that he'll rescind his acceptance if she's too trans, and so he gets to know all of her because she can let him into her world without self-editing.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on Gwen after watching Across The Spiderverse two hours ago lmao.

[softlymaximoff]

Head canons of Agent Romanoff and new SHIELD recruit , Agent Y/N. This was supposed to be short little one liners BUT we have short drabble dot points.

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

Natasha drinks her coffees black, with the exception of a dash of cinnamon syrup, her food untouched. Mission reports piled onto her desk in the private offices. Sticky notes left in a tangle by Fury or Hill about deadlines and reminders.

You barely ever saw her, she’s a whispered threat to your current wave of SHIELD recuits. You’d only ever interacted with her when she caught you using the last of the cinnamon syrup and she’d mumbled out foreign curse and gave a deep sigh. You’d never touched the syrup again.

She was a good teacher when she had taught her combat drill classes, not that anyone dared to question her methods. You were by far the most clumsy and unstable, but she never treated you differently or lightened up on her drills. She simply adapted to your poor coordination.

You, ever the perfectionist, struggled to keep your frustrations to yourself. Leaving one too many training sessions in a storm of your own emotions. The other recruits scrambling to express all sorts of excuses to Natasha about their lack of focus. You on the other hand, had given yourself a migraine trying to think of better ways to improve.

But Natasha saw, she knew. You were different. You had this pull about you that she couldn’t shake. This drive to be better, to do better and it reminded her of herself. She knew that all too familiar look in your eyes. Your posture, rigid, hands, balled in fists, chest, breathing deeply. Your posture were determined.

Nightmares for Natasha were never easy, the constant tossing and turning to get rid of the guilt pulsing through her veins after she’d wake up was futile. Nothing worked, her mind plagued with her past and echoes of her sins. Yet when she found you in the gym training on a punching bag twice your size, her mind silenced itself.

You hadn’t slept that night, a particular comment Natasha had said to the group had managed to weasel its way into your already irritated mind. Your knuckles were red raw, your hair was tied into a loose plait and your Gatorade bottle was almost empty. But you didn’t care, you needed to be better. “Don’t let your stumbles be the reason you become a casualty”. It was probably the only full sentence you remembered out of that whole session.

She didn’t say anything at first, just watched you deliver your punches angrily and knew the war going on in your head wasn’t just out of frustration or exhaustion. It was personal. She waited a little more and furrowed her brows when you sunk down on the floor in front of the punching bag. Flexing out your hands to relieve some pressure off your knuckles, you sighed as a dull ache lingered around in your fingers. You knew you were in for a long ride of pain the next day.

But you swore to yourself that no matter how inexperienced or clumsy you were, your stumbles would not be the reason to meet the hands of death. You never saw Natasha that night and she never made her presence known, she was a spy after all.

Mission reports were your strong suit. A knack for essays and deep diving into cases gave you an energy you couldn’t describe. Fury, your immediate director, had each SHEILD member of your group assigned to two previous mission reports that had already been logged through the system within the last year. His task was for everyone to pinpoint the MO, suspects, weapons, institutions, site coordinates and injuries sustained by Avengers affected.

This is where your true confidence shone. It was effortless, you were in your element. Three empty coffee cups haphazardly strewn across your small desk in your room. Provided by Stark of course. The man had the SHIELD recruits cooped up in the tower during training season and you couldn’t be more grateful. One problem though, your half deaf and polydactyl cat Oliver hadn’t been cleared by the tower rules.

Most nights you’d feed him left overs or ham but on rare occasions you’d get him some milk. That happened to be a night where Natasha had just come back from a mission, bruised and exhausted. You’d bumped into her and the world around you froze. Her breath hitched at the contact but she gave no other sign of discomfort. She eyed you curiously as your hands were now gripping the small bowl of milk like your life depended on it.

You gave a sheepish smile like a child stealing candy and hurried off to your room. The spy smirking as she already knew all about the mangled stray in your room. She was a spy remember. She had noticed the milk and ham going missing a few times only to find the items back in the fridge the next morning. Oh and Oliver was also a fan of chewing up and chasing Nerf Darts. She found that one herself.

THATS ALL FOR NOWWWWW

[breannasfluff]

For the prompts

Begrudging Penpals for DCxDP. That sounds hilarious. XD

Dear Samantha Manson,

Our poor excuse for a learning institute insists we must participate in this activity called “pen pals”. The teacher claims it will teach us social niceties, which is another way of saying she’s too feeble-minded to come up with a lesson. 

We are supposed to include some details about ourselves in our first letter. I am the rightful heir to my father’s company and you likely recognize my name. There are some unfortunate imbeciles attached to the family name as well; you can ignore them. Except Grayson, he’s not a total loss. While I have been forbidden persuaded from eliminating them, they only exist to remind me of humanity's stupidity. 

I am at the top of my class and excel at all physical activities. The importance of exercise is one of the few topics the school and I both agree are important. Too many children while their hours in front of TVs or painting nails. You are likely in that majority–you should change that while you have a chance. 

The teacher informed me that our age difference is supposed to be a chance to learn from upperclassmen. I must disappoint–there is nothing you can teach me. 

I’ve completed my part of the assignment for credit. 

Sincerely, 

Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

~ ~

Dear Damian,

My teacher said she’s reading our first letter. Take that how you want. 

I haven’t had the…privilege of crossing paths with you at a Gala, but I know of your family. Unlike you, I don’t like throwing my money and weight around. What’s the point of people treating you special if it’s just because of wealth?

I’ll have you know that I’m plenty active. You can’t live in Amity Park and lead a sedentary lifestyle. Also, girls sitting around and painting nails is a harmful stereotype. Everyone can paint their nails. I bet you’ve never painted yours, though. Can’t ruin your perfect image. 

You’re right, I have nothing to teach a checks the internet nine-year-old little kid. 

I have also completed this assignment. 

Sam 

Find the rest here

[jilyandbambi]

Can I just...make an embarrassing plea for nuance for a second?

As a Daniel Molloy enjoyer who's thought a lot about his relationship with his family, and his daughters, in particular, based on the few throwaway lines we've gotten, fandom jumped on the Daniel Is a Deadbeat Dad Whose Kids Hate Him train a little too readily, in my opinion. Especially since we have so few details to go off of when it comes to Daniel's life.

Look, there's obviously strong textual hints that Daniel made some pretty big mistakes in his family life, let his wives and daughters down in major ways. Maybe he was a bad father from the moment his kids were born and they have no good memories with him and now they can't wait for him to kick the bucket so they can inherit whatever's left of his estate... But also, maybe not!

There's a lot of nuance to relationships with imperfect parents that I think fandom overlooks. I'll elaborate using some of my own family's dysfunction as examples:

I have a cousin who was a Daddy's girl like me, who had a father who doted on her when she was little. But when she was in elementary school, he had a nervous breakdown after being attacked, and they lost contact while he was in and out of institutions. Now that she's an adult and he's doing better, they're trying to reconnect without much success. My cousin loves her dad very much, but he's a stranger to her, which, coupled with residual feelings of abandonment, makes it hard for her to reach out. That said, she still wants a relationship with him and looks back fondly on her childhood with him.

I have a great-aunt that I'm close to who would, off-and-on, go through extended periods of not talking to her father, my great-grandfather because he was old, sickly, losing his memory and blind in one eye, and yet as a "retired" contractor would still paint and remodel the rooms of his house, and the fact that he didn't take his health seriously stressed my aunt out to the point of seriously impacting her own mental and physical health. She loved her father dearly, but had to prioritize her own health when he proved to be unconcerned with his.

So, let's imagine for a sec that there's some gray area to play around in here.

What if Daniel was in denial in the first few years of his Parkinson's diagnosis and was still taking dangerous assignments like nothing was wrong and his daughters had to stop checking in for the sake of their sanity, which had been crumbling under the strain of sitting up at night panicking over their terminally ill father jetting off to the MENA to interview Kurdish militias for a documentary on ISIS?

What if Daniel was a doting father at first who made it to birthdays and recitals and holidays, etc. but after the girls' mom picked them up from their dad's and found used needles strewn about the coffee table one too many times, his visitation was restricted, and the relationship fell apart in the years after?

What if Daniel was a workaholic that no-showed at Christmas, birthdays, and parent-teacher conferences, but who came the fuck through when it was time to sell Girl Scout cookies (and any other school fundraiser), pulled out all the stops when either of the kids had a school project that required tons of research (in the days before Internet, mind you), and was fully down to stalk their high school/college boyfriends with them to see if they were cheating?

What if Daniel was a workaholic who sometimes freebased coke on weekends he had the girls and forgot to pick them up from school and missed every birthday party, but also would bring the girls to work with him all the time and when he did, they'd see their old artwork pinned to the walls of his office and his colleagues would congratulate one on the regional Spelling Bee one of them came first place in and the other on getting her blue belt in karate. Yeah, Daniel wasn't there for any of those but the fact that he cared enough to brag about it at work...yeah. What if Daniel let them skip school on days when middle/high school was just Too Much, and they'd go to Coney Island and ride The Cyclone til they forgot about Jennifer inviting everyone else on the swim team to her party.

Here's another thing: while yes, Daniel puts a premium on truth and honesty and has a blunt, pull no punches manner of speaking--old people are fucking DRAMATIC. Daniel's daughters are adults with busy lives of their own. Meanwhile, he's stuck at home bored out of his mind in retirement. What if his relationship with them is fine (all things considered) but they take a week to respond to his texts because hello? busy. Do any of you have grandparents who are retired? The other day I was informed that I'm "bad at texting" because it took me a few hours to reply to a message asking me if I watch The Diplomat. What if "My daughters won't even talk to me!" is just Daniel being miffed that neither of the girls had responded to his text in their Groupchat asking if they'd had a chance to check out his Masterclass yet?

Look, all this is to say, dysfunctional parent-child relationships are of course, messy and painful, especially if the parent was less-than-stellar during the child's formative years--but that doesn't mean that that's all there is. Oftentimes, there's a lot of good mixed in with the bad; and there's almost always a lot of love and a mutual desire to mend things in the time you have left. Every relationship on IWTV has its highs and lows, both joyful and devastating moments and memories. There's no reason the same can't apply to the relatively blank slate of Daniel Molloy and his daughters' relationship

[circeyoru]

The Cure for Their Problems = Requested

The Request

[Sung Jinwoo x Sickly!Reader]

WARNING: This might be a bit sensitive for some readers, so I put in a trigger warning. It contains self-harm and death if you understand the implications. If you think you're sensitive to such triggers, I would advise you not to read this and move on to more pleasant stories. You're responsible for what you consume on the internet and anywhere else.

“Got your dagger? First aid? Phone? Knife? Extra clothing? Oh, what about a shield? Even a small one could help. I could ask around and see if anyone would lend you one.” Your insistent nagging was replied to with silent nods and a soft smile from your Hunter friend —long-time childhood friend, Sung Jinwoo— while he listened intently to your words. “Where is your equipment? You can’t go in empty-handed! This is not a school field trip!”

“I’ll be fine.” Jinwoo reassured, he gave you a tight hug and spoke next to your ear, hiding his guilty expression from you. “My raid team has all my gear. I’m meeting up with them right after we part.”

You stared into Jinwoo’s eyes when the hug was released. Your eyes narrowed, sensing something amidst with his words. His raid team changes on a daily basis that you couldn’t quite keep up with the members and new names he mentions, not to mention they were people that regarded Jinwoo as a tool or bait. So you can’t imagine them lending equipment for Jinwoo while inside a dungeon. 

“Come on.” Jinwoo turned you around to another direction, “You got your check-ups, I promise I’ll be done by the time you’re done. No injuries as well.”

You pouted and turned your head as best you could to look at him, but him being a Hunter and you being an ordinary citizen, naturally meant you couldn’t win against him in a battle of strength. Hence why he’s nudging you to walk with ease. “It’s not the injury. I want you safe.”

Jinwoo paused and smiled back. “I know. I’ll do my best for you.” 

His tongue nearly slipped, he nearly told you the truth. He nodded and held your cheek with the softest smile, you reciprocated and leaned into his touch. That reminded you of the childhood days where both of you were innocent and ignorant of the troubles of an adult or the responsibilities that came with it. Just for that moment, you two were those kids. 

In the morning, either one of you would be the one to knock on the other’s front door and it’ll be opened by a parent on either side. A warm greeting was exchanged then the question of whether the target was free to hang out. Following that, the target comes into view and rushes out to the front door to give the other a tight hug. The parent at the door would giggle and laugh, then bid goodbye.

Even after you two had to go to school, the both of you would ensure that you two are in the same school, even if you had to split classes. However, because of your weak institute, you were quickly dropped out of school and homeschooled. It was a hard decision because you wanted to stay with Jinwoo and the same could be said of him, with each other, you two were at your happiest. Since this concerned your health and future, your parents had to make a rough decision. 

All the same, Jinwoo still greeted you daily before he headed off to school and when he was back. He’d bring along some snacks or art projects. Then he’d ask if he could come in and do homework together. Both parents would let it happen. That was how you survived homeschooling with the best scores even star students at school would be jealous of.

Your phone buzzed and the two of you were brought back to the present. You sighed but quickly smiled back so as not to worry Jinwoo. The two of you bid farewell and wish the other an enjoyable time and safety before going separate ways. 

Jinwoo watched your back until you were gone from his sight and range of perception. Only then does he turn around to enter the dungeon the System assigned. From young, you’ve been weak in terms of health but your spirit was like the brightest star even in the darkest night. That was what he thought of you since the first time you two met. 

The moment he was given the System to level up and be stronger, he knew it was the perfect tool for him to keep you safe and maybe get some medicine or potion from the store to improve your health. It worked, but only for a short term. Plus, you were someone that kept up with the latest medical knowledge even on the Hunter’s side where healer’s powers were known to you. So you have started to question where he got those potions and unique items you couldn’t find anywhere.

He recalled the time where he had to promise and swear to you over and over again because you feared he was in with some shady and bad people. You never seemed to question why he changed or gotten stronger, but he definitely knew you noticed. Yet when it came to him using his benefits for you, you were as keen as can be.

Now that he has a sure fire way of curing you completely so that you would be out enjoying yourself and not restricting or limiting your activities, he has to take it. Not to mention, it was an item that would wake his mother up from Eternal Slumber. Speaking of, he had fear you’d fall into that one day too. Since you were frail to begin with, there was a chance, even more so when you were always near him, someone with mana. Though, maybe he had to thank his low ranking and lack of mana. Else he might be visiting another person at the hospital.

Even after he placed a few Shadow to guard her, it wasn’t enough in his mind. Worst part was now that he got stronger, he had more mana and you were exhibiting symptoms of Eternal Slumber. There were times when his Shadows notified him that you suddenly fell asleep out of the blue. If he could, he’d drop everything and rush to your location to check on you. Otherwise, his Shadows would bring you to a safer location then he’d quickly finish his things and check on you. 

What he thought to be a one-time thing happened again and again, each more frequent than the last and longer. When you went to the doctors, you were warned to stay away from Hunters and what would happen to you. It was incurable, you were told. On top of your delicate health, you now had Eternal Slumber to worry about. 

You kept it secret from him, unknown that his Shadows already reported everything to him. He pretended not to know and avoided you so you’d distance yourself from him. As much as it pains him so. It only backfired when he found out you were planning a quick death to escape from it all. You mapped it out so innocently, thinking it was for the better. 

Death during sleep. 

“Wake up! Wake up! Don’t sleep!” Jinwoo vividly recalled bursting through your front door and into your bedroom at his soldiers’ alert. While his Shadows aired out the room, he cradled your unconscious form to his chest, a hand holding your head to his chest and the other around your waist from behind. “Please, I can’t… You… Don’t leave me…”

While he has much to live for, you didn’t. After your restriction to social life, your parents passed away and Jinwoo’s family took you in as their own, then you watched Jinwoo’s father disappear and his family break, after that, his mother fell into Eternal Slumber, and Jinwoo trying to make a life with his E-Rank Hunter status. You saw yourself as a burden to him when he faced prejudice against other Hunters and tried to care for his family and you on top.

Your soft mutters brought him out of his wailing, “Jinwoo… I’m sorry… Don… Don’t cry…”

He saw how you worry about him more than you worry about yourself. After that, he continued to let you stay by his side and forgo avoiding him. He’d see that distant look in your face when there were mentions of Hunters not returning from a raid or news of another victim of Eternal Slumber, but all he could do was change the subject. Even when he got the System’s help to grow strong.

The moment he got the news of a possible cure for anything, the <Holy Water of Life>, he was obsessed over obtaining it no matter what it took but also as fast as he could. This was the solution to his problem and yours. He just knows it. 

First thing Jinwoo did when he got the item, he woke up his mother. You were with his sister when he called the two of you to join him in the hospital. While you weren’t a child of the family, you still cried tears of waterfall that rivals his sister. You were grateful his mother woke up and the good Sung family wasn’t tormented. 

Jinwoo led you to a secluded place and sat you down on a bench. He took out the potion and presented it to you as he kneeled down. “This will cure you of everything, any ailment no matter how small or big or incurable. Please, I want you to take it.”

Your eyes watered and your lips pressed together in a thin line, your breathing turned shaky and your body trembled. “But… I’m… A nobody… Something so precious shouldn’t be used on me…”

Jinwoo’s hand held your fists, how he’s changed from that small boy you knew back then, never did you see him as anything less or more. “Hey, shh, don’t say that. You’re more precious to me than you could imagine. Don’t call yourself that, you didn’t call me that when I was a weak E-Rank.” Jinwoo smiled at you, “I want you healthy and free of restrictions. I want you to live your life how you wanted before everything bad happened. I want you to make your dreams a reality. I want to be by your side while it all happens, every step of the way.”

Tears ran down your eyes and Jinwoo wiped them away gently. “Jinwoo…”

He held up the potion, “Accept it?”

You gladly took the glass and cupped it with a warm smile, your eyes never leaving Jinwoo’s. “I accept your confession and you, Jinwoo.”

Note: Wrote too much, oops. This one turned a bit dark at the middle or end. Didn't exactly think this one through but went with the flow of things. That's just my style. Haha. Regardless, hope that those who read it is okay with this piece.

In the future for any request, you can mark down what quality of the story you prefer and I'll take it into consideration.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none at the moment, sadly)

[wingedshadowfan]

Hi! I've read some of your Arcane takes and I was curious to ask what do you think/how do you interpret Vi rejoining the enforcers after the breakup? I haven't read anyone doing an actual analysis on it, most people complain that she's "washed" or that the writers hate her, which doesn't feel like doing a deep dive into her character at all. Thank you! Have a lovely day.

ooh thank you for this ask!! i hope you have a great day too <33

i have a post (and a jokey joke) touching on why "vi's views suddenly changed" from her childhood disdain for enforcers to joining the hellfire squad.

here i'd like to also remind vi originally refused to join the enforcers after jinx bombed the council (caitlyn even seemed to understand/reflect on it in her conversation w/ jayce and apologized for offering it later on, despite having logical and utilitarian reasons for suggesting it - "no matter which way i slice it, one of us comes back in a box"): vi accepted the badge and joined the hellfire squad, which was a specific mission/operation, not a full time position, only after the memorial massacre, where she saw how unprepared piltover was to handle what she thought was jinx/silco's goons and how powerless she was in that situation. and in those posts i don't even delve into her guilt for what jinx has done, her fear of losing caitlyn to jinx and her conversation with maddie, which also affect her decision but don't exactly answer your question:

why does she rejoin the enforcers after the breakup?

i have two answers and one of them is kind of a cop-out, so let's start there:

she doesn't.

i know she's an enforcer in league lore, but arcane lore (which overrides league lore) didn't explicitly show her becoming an enforcer. it showed us she was there in the strategy planning stage of the war with mel and jayce - this wasn't an enforcer-only meeting, and she was likely allowed to be there because of caitlyn and due to her fighting ability (the fact she's the only person we've seen wield the atlas gauntlets and wreak absolute havoc with them) and her desire to help.

during the battle for the hexgates itself, she wore the badge (which she also kept and wore in her pitfighter era, just flipped backwards) but no enforcers uniform. now, even if we make the argument that she was just dressed differently for other armor-related reasons, it could've still just been for that battle (bcuz there was no post-war indication of her being an enforcer).

i couldn't find it but i had another post where i talked abt why other zaunites, firelights and jinxers alike, put on enforcer uniforms when they joined the war, and the short answer is, again, ✨utilitarian reasons✨ in order to effectively fight in that battle for a chance at saving their lives but also all of humanity - bcuz viktor would not have spared the undercity lol - they needed to receive training, weapons/equipment, be easily identifiable, have some sort of shared identity for morale, be told the plan/battle strategy, assigned what to do, etc. they did not willingly, fully, effectively, ideologically or longterm become enforcers, and i think this was the case for vi too.

she joins the enforcers to try and change something.

if we take it that vi did join the enforcers longterm after the war like she does in league lore, and we only didn't see it because she was still grieving, then this could tie in with caitlyn's "are you still in this fight, violet?" - which i personally interpreted as caitlyn and vi using their influence and knowledge post-war to try and change the oppressive systems and institutions of piltover. i think such an effort is a great reason for vi to rejoin the enforcers. like, she can't live in the kirammam mansion and do nothing all day every day, right? at some point she needs to find her calling. she can oversee the enforcers and work to reform them from within. she's a character built on the idea of protecting others and fighting, so under the condition that she can enact change within the system, i think her place is there. it's autonomous enough that she doesn't feel like an extension of caitlyn, and it's close enough to her for comfort too.

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (yandere professors New, Q, & Juyeon) 6.7k, yandere themes, possessive behavior, manipulation, special treatment, modeling, nude modeling, photography, blackmail, non-con, dub-con, drugs, foursome, gang bang, creampie, fingering, overstimulation, implied captivity (@starillusion13)

“You want me to be your model?”

You weren’t an art major, journalism actually, but every institution of higher education forced you to take other classes for your degree, so here you were. You thought an intro class for art would be a good elective and a break from your main courses. It wasn’t anything difficult and you thought you were doing well, that is until your professor, Choi Chanhee, pulled you aside and asked you to come see him later at his office. Your mind ran through all kinds of scenarios, wondering why the professor would want to see you in private.

To say you were nervous was an understatement, but you had to face this head on. You took a deep breath before knocking and stepping inside Professor Choi’s office. Your sense of calm immediately went out the window when you noticed two other professors in the room. You weren’t sure who they were off the top of your head, but you knew they were from the art department too. Now you definitely had no idea what was going on, but your professor was quick to notice your confusion and introduce the others. As well as tell you why he had called you here. The three of them had a job offer for you.

“Yes.” Professor Choi explained. “We believe you’d be a great model, and this would count as your class grade.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you model for us this semester I’ll give you a perfect A in your intro art class. And if you do it again next semester I believe Professor Ji Changmin could have it count as your volunteer work.”

“So you want me to model for a class grade and my volunteer hours?”

“We all think you’d be perfect for the role.” Professor Ji added. “I see great potential in you.”

“Uh, can I think about it? I’m not really sure I’m model material.”

“Of course. We do need an answer by the end of this week. If you decide to do it, please meet us in Professor Lee Juyeon’s classroom.”

“We’d need to start your training right away.” Professor Lee mentioned.”It’s nothing too rigorous, so take your time to think this over.”

“Thanks.”

You didn’t mind your art class. It wasn’t difficult, but of course you still had assignments to complete. When you first looked over the syllabus you saw mentions about going to the nearest art museum and botanical gardens for certain assignments. Those would likely be a whole day trip, and you might not have the time for that. Modeling didn’t sound like a bad idea. You’d likely just be wearing silly costumes and holding stuff while the students drew you from different angles. It would cover your class and it would only be a few hours a week at best.

You did think it over, and didn’t mention it to your friends either. In the end you figured you should give it a shot. You’d have more free time, and this new experience could have other benefits you hadn’t thought of yet. So at the end of the week you went to Professor Lee’s classroom. He was cleaning up and was very happy to see you. He welcomed you in, telling you to make yourself comfortable and he’d call over the other two. You looked around, seeing all the works of art hung around the room. They were quiet beautiful, showing different body types and you were amazed by the attention to detail.

“Are these your works?”

“Hm? Oh no, these are from past students. I have more, but these are the current ones on display in my rotation.”

“Wow. You’ve had a lot of talented individuals come through here.”

“And they will continue to do so. I’m glad you’ve decided to take us up on the job offer.”

“Honestly, it sounds like fun. It’s truly a once in a life time opportunity. I could be drawn by the next Picasso or something.”

“Indeed.”

A moment later the other two professors came in, happy to see you as well. The three gathered for a moment before putting their attention on you.

“Alright, let’s get a good look at you.” Professor Ji stated. “Up on the pedestal, please.”

You set your things down and stood on the pedestal in the center of the room. The three boys circled around you, looking you over and then reaching out to touch. They asked you to move your legs, to pose in certain ways. In the moment you felt like their doll.

“Very good.” Professor Choi complimented. “It will be easier to see what we’re truly working with once you disrobe, but that will be for another time.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You questioned. “Disrobe? You mean take my clothes off?”

“Yes.” Professor Lee continued. “I need you to be a nude model for some of my classes.”

“A nude model!?”

“I’m sorry, did we not make that clear? I know it sounds like a lot, but I promise you this position is not taken lightly. I have other nude models, but I am asking you to model for my graduate classes only, not any immature undergrads.”

“Oh… but…”

“Only three classes a week, two hours each. At least for this semester.”

“I…”

“The graduate students are very professional.” Professor Ji assured. “They’re just here to study human anatomy. They won’t be trouble.”

“… I don’t know…”

“Come by tomorrow so we can give you a proper test run. We’ll discuss the finer details, and you can see what you’re really in for. Please.”

“Uh… sure… sure…”

“Wonderful.”

You really were stunned over the news of this being a nude model gig, but you did want to at least see what the job truly entailed. So the next day you came by the art room again, even if you hesitated at the door. The three professors greeted you, happy to see you were still giving this a proper chance. Professor Lee showed you to the small room in the corner where you could undress. There was a wall mirror, a locker to put your things, as well as a clean robe for you to wear. For now you weren’t expected to be nude, but were asked to strip down to your panties and bra. You were a bit nervous but did as they asked, wrapping yourself up in the soft robe and stepping out in some slippers that had been provided.

“Excellent.” Professor Lee cheered. “Now I assure you, there are no cameras in this room. While in class the door is locked so no one can just come and go as they please. I also collect the phones from my grads and keep them in a box on my desk. The students who will be working with you are very professional and respectful.”

“Okay…”

“Let’s run a mock session then.”

The door was locked right in front of you, assuring you that no one would just walk in. Professor Lee lead you to the pedestal, helping you get on it. You removed your slippers, holding onto the robe, not wanting to take it off. They were patient with you, and the room wasn’t super cold. After a moment you took a breath and removed the robe, Professor Lee taking it from you. Instinctively you tried to cover yourself.

“You look beautiful.” Professor Ji assured. “But take your time.”

It took you a bit to ease your nerves, but eventually you lowered your hands. Once you were good the professors helped you get into a pose. Something simple, just a hand on your hip. From there the boys used tape to mark where you stood. Each of them then got a canvas and some brushes and pencils, finding a position around you to set up.

“For starters I just need you to hold that position for about thirty minutes, then we’ll take a break.” Professor Choi said. “Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

At first there was this awkward silence, but then the professors began talking with you. They asked about your classes, and how things were going for you. They wanted to know about you, the things you did in your free time, and why you were pursuing your career of journalism. 

“Information is dangerous but important, and wonderful. I want to be able to share that, so people can make good decisions and share stories.”

“That’s very cute.” Professor Lee chuckled. “Ah, keep still.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay. Standing still is difficult, but you’re doing well so far.”

“Thank you.”

After thirty minutes Professor Lee came to your side with your robe, helping you put it on and get into your slippers. You walked over to see what they had been working on, rather stunned to see how they had captured your form. It was beautiful, which was to be expected, these guys are professors in the art department of course.

“For an actual session I can’t really have the students conversing with you.” Professor Lee explained. “I can play some calm music in the room, or if you prefer you can use your own earbuds while posing.”

“I understand professor.”

“You don’t need to be so formal with us. You can just call me Juyeon.”

“Alright, although I’m still not sure I can do this completely naked…”

“You’re doing well so far. I’d ask you to at least do two sessions for one of my classes. If you don’t wish to continue after that, I’ll get another model. Is that possible?”

“Uh… I think so…”

“I’m glad to hear.”

After your little break you got back on the pedestal, the boys telling you to move a little bit here and there as you got back into position. The rest of the session went well, the boys showering you with compliments as they continued to ask about you. By the end you didn’t feel so shy, but then again you weren’t completely naked before strangers. Still, you would give this a real shot, so Juyeon gave you the time for the class he wanted you to model for. Excited to see you then.

🖤

The day for your real modeling session you were incredibly nervous, but you wanted to keep your word and not back out last minute. You arrived early to the class, and Juyeon was very happy to see you. Just like before you got into your little dressing room and stripped. You took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, wearing only your bra and panties. You had to fully undress and you believed in yourself. After a moment you took off the last bit of clothing you had, putting on the dress robe and slippers. You had brought some earbuds, wanting to get lost in your own world and not hear anything you didn’t want to.

When the time came Juyeon knocked on the door, linking his arm with yours and leading you to the pedestal. The students were all setting up, getting out their tools, every space around you occupied by someone. Juyeon gave you an assuring look as you got on the pedestal, letting you disrobe on your own. You kept your eyes on him for the time being, letting him touch you as he got you into an ideal pose. He marked your position and then you were on your own. Besides the music you weren’t sure what else to do with yourself until you noticed something on the wall. It seemed to be some sort of puzzle, and it did well to pass the time.

At break time Juyeon approached you with the robe, helping you down. The students were also on break. Some remained in the class, others stepped out for a moment. Even though it was only the beginning you wanted to see what the students had done so far. You walked around the room with Juyeon, seeing the rough outline of your body from all kinds of angles. It was incredible, and you found it so beautiful. This was you, regardless of the angle. There weren’t any sort of identifying features either, yet every student was taking great care in drawing you and it brought a smile to your face.

All the students were back before the end of break and then you got back to your position. The students politely helped with directions this time as they knew what they were drawing. Then you were back on your little eye puzzle, which Juyeon admitted to placing for you so you don’t get so bored. When the second break came around you checked on the work, seeing the progress they had made. It was the small details they were really working towards, which was really good. Even if you had continued with your original art class, you weren’t sure you could ever get on their level.

“You’ve been doing very well.” Juyeon complimented. “I appreciate you being here.”

“Me too. I’m not so nervous anymore and this job is… interesting…I think I’ll be able to keep doing this.”

“I’m glad to hear.”

You finished up the session, a few of the students thanking you for your time. You went to get dressed, honestly feeling a bit strange putting clothes back on after just being naked for two hours. Once you had gathered all your things you stepped out, seeing Juyeon chatting with a student. You thought about leaving but he told you to stay a moment, so you did. Soon enough it was just the two of you and Juyeon began cleaning up the room, which you helped him do despite his protests.

“Ah, that reminds me.”

Juyeon went over to his desk, pulling out an envelope and handing it to you. At first you were confused, but then you realized what was inside.

“Oh, no, no, no, I can’t take this. I’m doing this for my class credits.”

“I know, this is from me personally. I pay all my models, and besides, it really is unfair to have you model for me and not pay you. Please, take it.”

“Just this once?”

“Well, we still have more sessions to come.”

“I…”

“You deserve it. I’ll be seeing you later this week, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you have the semester schedule?”

“I do.”

“Good. Until next class.”

“Until then.”

You continued with the modeling job, still trying to refuse Juyeon’s money, but at least you got him to lower the amount. It was nice to have some extra spending money for your studies though, making it easier to focus on assignments and projects. You of course did check your grades for your art class, seeing that Chanhee was marking them all as passed with an A, maybe a high B here and there, not waiting to make things weird, but also not harming your GPA. Being a nude model certainly wasn’t so nerve wrecking anymore, which made the sessions all the easier. Things were going smoothly until they got a bit complicated.

“Uh… hi…”

“Hm? Oh, hello, do I know you?”

“Well, kinda…”

After a session someone outside the classroom caught your attention. They didn’t seem familiar, but also weren’t entirely a stranger.

“You’ve modeled for a few of my classes now and I was wondering if I could get your name? Perhaps your number?”

“Sunwoo, aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

“Huh? Oh, hi Professor Ji. My current class was actually canceled and-”

“You should be studying for exams, nout lounging around the art department. Go on now.”

“Uh, yes, professor.”

Sunwoo glanced back at you, giving you an apologetic smile before heading off. Now it was just you and Changmin.

“You didn’t have to scold him like that.”

“I did. It’s not appropriate for any students to try and form a relationship with you. They’ve seen you without clothes on in a very vulnerable state.”

“Ah, I see.”

“It’s advice I hope you follow.”

“I think I will.”

“Now I know you just stepped out of Juyeon’s classroom, but do you mind if we go back in? There is something I’d like to discuss with the both of you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You were curious what Changmin wanted to discuss, but you thought it was related to school. In fact it wasn’t as Changmin was talking about taking you out to dinner to celebrate you and congratulating you on your work. Of course the semester wasn’t over, but you were around the halfway point. You tried telling them this wasn’t necessary, but they insisted so there was really no denying them. The restaurant wasn’t anything super fancy, but rather nice. You dressed in business casual attire, stuff for interviews, since you didn’t have anything else. After ordering you began asking the three about their own careers and how they got into the arts and teaching.

Chanhee was big on portraits and color theory, enjoying teaching a few intro classes as he can see how other students interpret the world and the colors it has. You probably would have enjoyed his class, but you did like the spare time one less class gave you. Juyeon focused more on human anatomy and capturing moments in one’s day to day life. He had a handful of models, both nude and dressed, that he kept in contact with for his classes. He was very serious with his work and he only taught grad students. Then there was Changmin, a photographer. His classes were mainly open electives for other majors, but he loved teaching others how to use a camera to the fullest to take captivating images. They were all passionate in their area, and you admired that about them.

“You know, you could be a real model.” Chanhee mentioned. “Not a nude model, but a runway model.”

“That sounds crazy. I’m not a real model.”

“We’re serious.” Changmin added. “I have my own personal studio not far from campus. We could help you build a proper portfolio.”

“Even if you don’t want to shoot for a runway model, there are plenty of other jobs you can take on.” Juyeon added. “Commercial shoots, or magazine ads. A pretty face like yours would certainly be wanted. You should consider it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

After dinner they took you back to your dorm, wishing you a good night. It wasn’t super late but you were still quiet as to not wake your roommate. You undressed and washed up for the night, crawling into bed. Dinner had been good, and so were the conversations. You really were intrigued by the idea of modeling on a more professional level. You wouldn’t feel guilty about the money made from real modeling jobs and it wouldn’t hurt to build up some savings before you graduate and dive into your career. It would be a good side hustle and money maker since getting a job as soon as you graduate wasn’t a common thing. It really wasn’t a bad idea.

🖤

The next time you had a free moment you went to search for Changmin, letting him know you did want to try modeling professionally. He was overjoyed to hear, setting up a good time for you to come down to his studio and take some professional shots. It was best to do this over the weekend, and you brought a bag of some of your clothes. You’d need a variety of shots taken, although the studio wasn’t what you expected. It was a full on professional studio that had its own employees and ran while Changmin was teaching. You had also never seen a studio like this before. Changmin was flattered you brought your own things, but he had options for you.

There was a room in the studio filled with clothes of all types. He went with you to pick out some outfits for your portfolio, knowing what he wanted to capture about you. Of course it wasn’t just going to be the two of you as Chanhee and Juyeon stopped by as well. Your scheduled time was later in the evening after all, and it would surely continue after business hours. Chanhee and Juyeon were more than happy to help you with make-up and accessories, making you look incredible. You weren’t one for getting dolled up, but you were certainly seeing a new side of your own beauty.

Once you were ready the photoshoot began. Changmin was happily behind the camera, treating you like a real model and encouraging you to do your own thing. He gave a few directions here and there, the other two giving suggestions as well. Overall the experience was fun, and certainly a once in a lifetime thing if this modeling didn’t go anywhere. You looked over the photos with the others, amazed at how good Changmin was at his job. He said he would pick out the good photos and do some edits to build your portfolio. He’d want you to look at it when he was done, and if you were satisfied with it he could reach out to some companies and start working on getting you some gigs. So you were quite excited to see what would come of this.

When the portfolio was done Changmin sent you a message, telling you he had left a physical copy for you in Chanhee’s hands. From there you reached out to Chanhee, agreeing to meet with him after one of his classes in order to pick up your portfolio. It was a little weird going into his classroom as students left, you hadn’t been there since the beginning of the semester. You waited for Chanhee to finish talking with a few students, so you looked around the room. You saw a few new pieces on the wall, wondering about their creator.

“I must admit, it’s nice to have you in my classroom again.”

“I could have remained as your student.”

“You’re doing better as Juyeon’s model. Now, your portfolio.” Chanhee grabbed a file from his desk, handing it to you. “If there are some you don’t want, let Changmin know. We’re all eager to see your career grow.”

“This is more of a side job than career. It never hurts to make money.”

“You do have a point.”

“Alright then, I’ll be off. I have a class to get to.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yup.”

On your way out of the classroom you checked the time, seeing you had half an hour before you had to be somewhere else. You opened up the file, seeing the pictures you had taken, once again reminded Changmin was a good photographer.

“You’re y/n, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Do I know you?” 

“We’re in the same class, or at least we’re supposed to be.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Me neither. Your name is still registered as part of Professor Choi’s intro class despite the fact you haven’t attended in the last couple weeks. You’re even getting grades, that’s odd don’t you think?”

“And what’s your problem?”

“Are you sleeping with the professor?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“So I’m right.”

“You-”

“What is the commotion out here?” Chanhee stepped out of his classroom. “What are you two yelling about? There are other classes in progress.”

“I’m just concerned about one of my fellow classmates. It’s my duty to maintain the university’s reputation.”

“I don’t see why yelling at another does that. You should focus on your own studies, but if something troubles you then report it with the department administrator.”

“I will.”

The girl turned around and stormed off. You were still shocked over her words, but now you were worried about what she would tell the administrator. The modeling in exchange for a grade probably wasn’t sanctioned.

“Shouldn’t you have said something else? She’s gonna tell the administrator and get you in trouble.”

“She won’t.”

“Chanhee-”

“Don’t you know who the administrator is?”

“Uh… no, this isn’t my-”

“It’s Changmin.”

“Oh… that actually explains a lot…”

“So don’t worry about that girl, let’s just focus on your future modeling career.”

“Sure.”

After looking through the portfolio photos you messaged Changmin with a few suggestions but gave him the go ahead to send your information out there to see if anyone was interested. You honestly didn’t expect to get anything, but a few days later Changmin mentioned  a potential modeling job. Of course everything was still your choice, so he was just giving you the details. Honestly the money wasn’t bad, and these were all small jobs, so you did what came up. Some were easier than others, and some didn’t involve showing your face. Overall the side job was fun, and you always had one of the three boys accompanying you.

Although as exams and the end of the semester was approaching, you had to decline a few here and there. You needed the time to yourself to study, and still do your original job for Juyeon’s classes. Things were going well, and you felt that you had a pretty good balance in your life. If you kept this up you’d be in a good position come graduation. Of course you were stressed but not as much as you could be. After your last session of the week with Juyeon you hung around his classroom, helping him clean up. It had become a habit and it was a little moment where you could focus on a small task and not your own grades.

“You’ve really gotten better with modeling.”

“Thanks. I’ve gotten better with practice.”

“You have, although you haven’t been doing many modeling jobs as of late.”

“I have to focus on my studies.”

“Why? A pretty face like you doesn’t need brains.”

“… uh, what?”

“You’re better off as a model, than a little journalist. If you really focus on modeling you could be on a runway in months.”

“…”

You were rendered speechless, not sure if this was actually happening right now. Juyeon’s words couldn’t be real but either way, you needed to leave. You grabbed your things, getting his attention, so he quickly went over to you, grabbing your arm and preventing you from leaving.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Let go.”

“I was planning dinner for all of us tonight.”

“I’m good, now let go!”

“What-”

“I said let go!”

You yanked your arm free and stormed towards the door, only to watch it open it on its own. Chanhee and Changmin walked in, smiles on their faces, until they sensed the tension in the air and saw your expression.

“What’s wrong?” Changmin asked. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You stammered. “I was just leaving.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, dinner won’t hurt.” Juyeon said.

“…”

“Y/n, what happened?” Chanhee questioned. “You don’t-”

“I told her she’d be better off as a model.” Juyeon admitted. “I guess she didn’t like that.”

“…”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Changmin added. “You’ve been-”

“I don’t want to model, I quit.”

You tried to walk away, but Chanhee held you back this time. You didn’t wanna argue anymore, but when you tried to free yourself Chanhee’s grip only got tighter. 

“What about your grades? The semester isn’t over yet. If you insist on quitting, I’m afraid I’ll have to fail you.”

“What… you know what, I don’t care, I’ll take the F.”

Before you tried to free yourself again you heard the door lock, seeing Changmin do just that. Now you were starting to get nervous, getting the sense that something else was going on here. Still, you tried to get your arm free but Chanhee wouldn’t budge.

“You know, we could destroy your career right here, right now.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“What place would hire some fresh out of uni journalism student who has nude photos of themselves all over the internet.” Juyeon stated. “I think that’s a pretty big career killer.”

“There are no cameras in here!”

“I lied. You really think I wouldn’t want to remember some of my most beautiful models? Although my favorite images come from the dressing room.”

You felt your heart sink at his words. Maybe he was lying about everything, you couldn’t even imagine where a hidden camera would be. Although those thoughts were quickly squashed.

“Even if I didn’t have cameras in my classroom, I could get such beautiful images tonight.”

“I…”

“Be a good girl, and strip.”

You didn’t move, you didn’t speak. Your mind was racing and you were processing. Still, your lack of action was annoying them. So Chanhee pulled you towards the center of the room, the other two approaching and starting to undress you. Out of instinct you fought back only to get shoved down onto the floor, pinned as you ended up in your bra and panties. To a degree you were used to the nudity, but not like this. You covered yourself as best as you could, pulling up your knees to your chest when the boys stepped away.

“Don’t… don’t do this…”

“We were working towards it.” Changmin admitted. “We all make such a great team, don’t we?”

“I… I’ll finish the semester just…”

“We know you will, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.”

“This… this isn’t necessary…”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t had this kind of fantasy before.” Chanhee teased. “A lot of students fantasize about their professors. We’re all adults here, it’s okay.”

“No… no, I-”

“No one’s gonna bother us.” Juyeon assured, going to his desk. “The week is over, and you know how uni students are.”

Juyeon came into view, kneeling down before you with a small circular thin in hand. You had no idea what it was, but he had a rather pleased smile on his face.

“This is special for you, a personal mix I’ve been working on.”

“Huh?”

Juyeon opened up the tin, holding it out to you. It wasn’t empty, a strange blue colored liquid inside. He held it out closer to you, and then you caught a whiff of it. The smell was odd and began to make you dizzy. You grabbed your head, noticing that the world was spinning. Before you collapsed Changmin caught you, standing behind you.

“There, now she’ll cooperate.”

“What exactly is in that?” Chanhee asked.

“It’s a secret.”

Changmin gently laid you down, kneeling beside you and caressing your cheek. You were starting to feel hot, and his cool touch was welcomed. You leaned into him, getting a chuckle out of him.

“She is very cute. I was looking forward to dinner, but this is a good substitute. You’re sure she’ll behave?”

“She’ll be begging for us once we get started.” Juyeon said. “Don’t worry.”

“Who’s going first?”

“I call dibs.”

Chanhee was already slipping out of his shirt, getting on top of you and placing wet kisses on your face, then trailing down your chest. You moved to get him off of you, but you had no strength to push him away. His lips provided a soothing sensation, so really, you didn’t want him to stop. After a moment he pulled you up to sit, his hands reaching to unhook your bra and help you slip out of it.

“I made a good choice, didn’t I?”

“Is that why you get to go first?” Changmin pouted. 

“Jealous much? As if you haven’t been photographing her on your own. Won’t share the pictures.”

“I deserve to have some things for myself. Juyeon doesn’t share his videos of the dressing room.”

“My cameras, my videos.”

“I’ll share.” Chanhee chuckled. “She’s too pretty not to see someone else ruin her.”

While peppering you with kisses Chanhee latched on to one of your breasts, sucking on the nipple and teasing with his teeth. You cried out in ecstacy, a new feeling taking over your senses. This wasn’t your first time, but a new experience. When Chanhee pulled back there was a loud pop, followed by fingers between your legs, rubbing you through your panties. You whimpered once before you bit your lip, not wanting to be so nosy and needy.

“It’s okay baby.” Juyeon cooed, pulling you into a soft kiss. “We want to hear everything. No need to worry about anyone else.”

“… uh… my head…”

“Sh, it’s okay, we got you.”

“She’s so wet.” Chanhee giggled. “I can’t wait much longer.”

You barely registered Chanhee’s words before he pushed your panties aside and pressed his fingers against your folds. You squirmed, trying to move away, but Juyeon kept you from running. You felt Chanhee’s fingers pushing deeper, and one slipping inside you. Your mouth hung open in sweet pleasure, Changmin taking it as an invitation to put two of his own fingers in there, moving around your tongue and getting you to suck on them. You did so without really thinking, your focus pulled in two directions. Then you felt hands trailing down your chest, grabbing your breasts and massaging them. 

While you were distracted with that a second finger entered you, making you squirm once more as Chanhee found your sweet spot. He was more than happy to abuse it, making you moan against Changmin’s fingers, partially gagging. You didn’t really notice when a third finger was added but you could feel the stretch. Juyeon placed kisses against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. The world around you was spinning, but you were more focused on the pleasurable feelings you were being assaulted with. Instinctively you let out a whimper when Chanhee moved his fingers, feeling cold for a moment before you felt something bigger rubbing against your slit.

Your mind only registered what that was once it was pushing your walls apart, entering you inch by inch. You felt a bit tense, but slowly relaxed, the pain mixing to pleasure. The fingers in your mouth pulled away with a pop, letting your moans spill past your lips. Those wet fingers trailed down your body, making you twitch, which just created a new sensation from the cock inside you. A whimper escaped you as you adjusted for the size. For a moment you noticed Chanhee’s face right in front of you, a big smile on his face. Then he started moving and things got blurry. Chanhee moved with a steady rhythm at first, making your whole body shake.

You shut your eyes, hands exploring his chest, trying to get some stability, but you were getting lost. Each of his thrusts rubbed against your sweet spot, keeping you off balance and on cloud nine. Chanhee shoved the others away from you, meaning down to kiss your neck and chest, wanting to leave marks. You felt a heat building down below, only growing stronger and stronger. You tried to say something to Chanhee, but he understood well. As he pushed you over the edge he pressed his lips to yours, letting you moan into his mouth. Your body shook beneath him, squeezing him tight and encouraging him to spill his seed.

You were barely coming down from your high when you heard, and felt, Chanhee pushed off of you. Juyeon wanted to take advantage of your sensitive state, and it wasn’t up for debate. You didn’t feel empty for long before something else just as big and hard slipped inside, pushing against Chanhee’s mess and having it spill out of you. A ragged moan escaped your lips as you adjusted to the change and the sensation. You were still twitching and aching but Juyeon was desperate. As soon as he was settled in he began moving, rocking your body as he used you to satisfy himself. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around him, holding on and moaning into his ears. He felt so good, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust just like Chanhee had done. It wasn’t too hard for him to force another orgasm out of you.

You cried out when you felt your body shake once more, wanting to rest, but Juyeon wasn’t done yet. He used your limp body to reach his own orgasm, adding to the mess between your legs. You felt the warm sticky substance spill down your thighs, the scent of sex filling the air. You thought you could actually rest, but there was someone who had patiently been waiting and watching you with such a predatory gaze. Juyeon peppered you with soft kisses before moving away, leaving you in Changmin’s hands. He caressed your body, enjoying the extra sensitivity. As he touched your breasts, as his fingers trailed down your chest, you gasped and moaned, every little thing getting a reaction out of you.

He teased you until his fingers got down to your core, pushing into the sloppy mess and mixing it all around. Your sense of self was long gone by then, and you just wanted more. You started to whimper, gently moving your hips, and Changmin understood your actions. He chuckled, promising that he’d take good care of you. One moment you were softly begging, the next you were yanked off of the ground and found yourself sitting atop something big and hard. A surprised moan came out of you, making you throw your head back. Perhaps he was in deeper, but you just wanted friction. You moved slowly, trying to get yourself off, but you were so tired, yet so desperate. Changmin let you play with his cock for a while, watching you fondly before grabbing your hips and helping you out.

He thrusted up into you, letting the mess between your legs spill onto him. Incoherent mumbles spilled out your lips as Changmin fired up your sensitive places. Once he got into a good rhythm he laid you back down, wanting to rub his thumb against your swollen clit, absolutely planning to wring another orgasm out of you, one just for him. You cried out when you reached climax, this one making you go completely limp. You couldn’t even relax until Changmin came, spilling into you and happily thrusting his hips as he got his seed in deeper. He placed gentle kisses on your face, telling you how good of a girl you had been, but you couldn’t register much. You were spent, body and mind, and couldn’t help but slip into the unconscious. 

🖤

You groaned as you began to regain your senses, feeling sore, your body aching all over. There was a chill in the air, and you realized you were still naked, but had some cloth draped over you. When you opened your eyes you looked around the room, seeing that you were still in Juyeon’s classroom. You had no idea how much time had passed, but you did try to get up.

“Don’t move, we’re not done yet.”

You looked around for the voice, but struggled to find it. You needed a moment more to have the strength to move. You tried again only to have a hand on your chest and getting pushed back down. Chanhee was still very much naked, but he had a pleased grin on his face.

“I said stay still, love, we’re painting, and you can’t be moving. Be a good model and just close your eyes and rest.”

Chanhee placed a cloth over your eyes, and the darkness just made it all the easier to go back to sleep, but you fought it. You couldn’t move much even if you wanted to, but you didn’t want to give up. Despite what you remembered, the soreness on your body told you more was done to you. So you just laid there, not fully aware of the other three around the room, happily painting your portrait from different angles.

“… please… can I go home…”

“Hm, what are we going to do with her now?” Juyeon asked. “We can’t just let her go.”

“I’ll take her back to my place.” Chanhee volunteered. “Take care of her as she recovers.”

“As if you won’t do more than that.”

“You’re more than welcome to visit, although don’t you still need her for modeling?”

“I can figure something out, but we need to do something about her.”

“Students drop out and disappear all the time.” Changmin reminded. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Oh, I like that.” Chanhee giggled. “I really did choose a good one, didn’t I?”

“The best one, perhaps the last one.”