s1llyalabaster

[s1llyalabaster]

Let Begones be Begones - Veritas Ratio

Where Ratio conceals his identity as a faceless and voiceless streamer, until he finally reveals himself to your surprise. College au! and also streamer au! Exes to lovers, reader is a bit sassy. ~1k words, SFW

a/n: i feel like i don't often write in ratio's perspective, so i wanted to give a go at it...

"FUCKING HELL!! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!" The purple-haired man had heard through the thin walls separating your apartment flats. This had been the third time in probably an hour where your yells and screams had nearly broken Ratio's ears.

Yes, Ratio was a streamer himself, but at least he was courteous to his neighbours enough to use a text-to-speech application and an elaborately-designed model when streaming, so he didn't need to reveal his voice nor appearance. Hardly anyone knew about his job as someone who blabbers on the internet for money. Not his boring Architecture major classmates, nor his closest childhood friend, Aventurine.

One of the few people who knew about his side gig was the precisely the person living in the flat next to his. You see, you two shared the same passion for sciences and such, and ended up applying for the same major, which didn't end up very well, with a falling-out happening just months ago.

Ratio had seen you while throwing out the trash once, and upon his eyes meeting yours, his face morphed into a scowl that slowly spread across your face too. An eye roll was more than enough to show his dismissal of your existence, even after all the joyous times you two spent together. Or that time where holes were practically burning into his skull when he was presenting his "new idea of architectural geniusness".

He also knew that you two shared the same job, thinking nothing of it, as his method of earning money was too intelligent to not garner a few copycats here and there.

After a long day of studying and attending classes, turning his monitor on was the last thing Ratio wanted to do. Yet, he promised his viewers a "facecam" stream to celebrate his first year of streaming (which was also his first year of being stuck in ths terrible apartment complex). He did his usual routine of setting up his stream, with an additional flick of his bangs due to his first appearance as himself on stream.

Ratio went along with the stream as usual, doing his greetings, reading his donations, and throwing (jokingly) vile remarks at his chat. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so with one last look at his phone camera, he turned off all his assets.

"Well, asides from me feeling extremely bare and upfront upon the eyes of you idiots, any thoughts?" Ratio spoke, his real voice unconcealed.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH- WHAT?!"

The man's head swiveled to the side in alert, eyebrows narrowing in annoyance. Your shrill shriek had once again assauted his ears. THE Veritas Ratio hadn't think this through enough, huh?

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat after the stream ended. Ears perking up at the loud knocks on his apartment door, Ratio dragged his tired body to the doorway, knowing full well that he would be bombardde with countless questions.

"What now?" He grumbled.

"YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'VE BEEN HIDING THIS," your finger jabbed at your phone displaying his streamer profile, "FROM ME?" Ratio sighed, body practically slumping against the door frame. "Nobody said that being a streamer's exclusive to you. Now just- go back to your room before I slam the door in your face."

The realisation that you've been watching his streams was slowly dawning on his barely-function mind. Considering the type of content that he made which only appealed to a small audience compared to gamers or E-girls, he knew basically every recurring viewer.

Including the one who has been spitfireing snarky chat messages at him ever since the falling-out.

Oh.

It was comically ironic how Ratio was the one who ended up knocking on your door the next morning. He felt awkward, brain tingling from the predicament. This was the first time (not counting yesterday night) that he's talked to you personally in weeks, even months. His feet was tapping in impatience, hearing you stumble through your way to the door.

"Oh, it's you. What happened to wanting me to get out of your face?"

Ratio's fingers ran through his hair, strands of violet falling to his eyes. He was uncharacteristically silent, racking his brain for a proper reason that wouldn't make him lose his face.

"Well, I just- You know... Ugh! Why do you have to make this so difficult?!"

"I just... wanted to know why you decided to watch my streams."

You chuckled at his coy form, you wanted to burn it into your retinas. Not only because it was a very, very rare occurence, but also because you never wanted to let go in the first place. Ratio was the one who decided to break it off, saying that you were a distraction to becoming a greater scholar. You still remembered how hard you cried that night, and thinking back, he'd probably also remember due to how thin the walls were.

"Listen, it's not like I wanted to stalk you or something, I just happened to learn about it through a mutual friend. So if you're trying to manipulate me or hurt me again, today's not the day for it."

Ratio faltered. He didn't expect your sharp words to hurt this much. Each and every time he saw you in class, the deeper the hole in his heart would go. It's not like he wouldn't like to pursue you again, he was just incredibly scared. And knowing Ratio, he'd never admit to that.

You sighed, beginning to find the conversation pointless. You decided to turn back and return to your room to continue working on your essay. But before you could, a calloused hand grabbed your wrist firmly. You looked back to see Ratio with his head hung low.

"The things that you do to me... How come someone like me, someone who was born to use logic and reasoning, be so impulsive when it comes to dealing with you?"

You smiled, interlocking your fingers with his, gently rubbing your fingers on his callouses from writing and researching. He didn't disappoint you this time, and you knew that he wouldn't hurt you again.

You two shared a hug before you led him into your apartment.

"What's with all the mess? You'll never have a clear mind with such an unruly space."

Looks like he was back to his usual self.

[s1llyalabaster]

woah what the FUCK

thank you guys so much!!

[s1llyalabaster]

Haii! Can i request ratio x gn!Reader who is always clingy and clings to ratio everywhere they gotta whether it's holding his arms, or his fingers, or anything, even when they sleep reader always clings to him, ratio can't event get out of the bed ini the morning cuz how tight their grip is. Idk man just a though at 2am lol

WAAAAGH this is such a cute idea!!! I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to pump this out faster and earlier but here it is anon!! (Gonna be doing bullet point for this because I can't really think of how to put multiple scenarios into one whole fic)

Like Dust on an Alabaster Head - Veritas Ratio

Just like what the title says, where reader clings to Ratio like a speck of dust on his alabaster head. ~300 words , SFW

◘ I can imagine you, Ratio, and other researchers sat at a meeting where you're supposed to concentrate and take notes etc, but *THE* Doctor just somehow ends up clenching his jaw in slight embarrassment when you two link fingers or even nudge your foot at his.

◘ ANON YOUR IDEA OF THE BED SCENE IS SO CUTE AS WELL LIKE?!?!?! Imagine Ratio, having a seminar to attend in the morning, using every atom in his body to slowly slip out of your (quite strong) grip. But he ultimately fails as your body somehow works like a bear trap, detecting the movement of that of Vertias'.

◘ Another scenario would be when you two have an off-day, you'd just be always attaching your fingers to his body when you two go on a walk, or spend some time in the library. Despite his half-assed remarks to keep your hands off him, from his body language itself, it seems that he doesn't think it's as unbearable as he says it is.

◘ Your clinginess even shows in text! Dr. Ratio doesn't really text much, even with his accquaintannces, let alone his coworkers. So when he leaves his phone on his work desk without care, his coworkers are shocked to see him reply to your flirty messages or sticker spamming on the dot, not even seconds sparing. You know how phones can have custom "do not disturb" modes? He probably has notifications on only for you 24/7 and ignores everyone else's.

◘ Currently obsessed over domestic malewife! Ratio SO what if you wrap your arms around Ratio when he's cooking or doing chores, and he's trying to pry them off to avoid any danger hazards but you're just clinging on like an octopus or a koala..... GOT ME SO SOFT

◘ Your clinginess would definitely grow TENFOLD when you're tired and you'd be asking him to piggyback carry you around the house until you're satisfied (your last ounce of awakeness decides against doing so in public).

◘ I have a feeling Dr. Ratio would be the "appears touch repulsed but is actually touched starved" type, so sometimes he does really appreciate your clinginess and you taking the initiative to touch him, hug him, kiss him and whatnot. It'll take some time for him to work up the courage, or in his words "stoop so low as to ask for touch like an idiot", to ask for kisses etc.

[s1llyalabaster]

back on that ratio fic grind ‼️‼️

[s1llyalabaster]

I HAVE RE-EMERGED OUT OF THE ABYSS AGAIN AHAHAHHAHA

(i went to acg and i'm incredibly tired because i cosplayed for 3 days straight and had photographers swarm me for 2 of those days)

to the anon that sent me a request, i'm so sorry that i haven't responded yet, i'll try my bestest to come up with an idea by next week!!

[s1llyalabaster]

Some madness and badness combination

Hoyo geniuses + cats

[s1llyalabaster]

went to a local con today and picked up an absolute gem..,JUST LOOK AT HIM!!!!

[s1llyalabaster]

can i request gn! Reader x ratio about reader gossiping to him, he says gossiping is useless and untitled but secretly he's actually interested and listened to reader but when reader stopped cuz they thought ratio didn't listened and uninterested, so they move into another topic but suddenly ratio asked what happens next ofc reader continued to gossip about people's lives. Just a silly request lmao (I feel like reader's personality is like Regina George but is actually like really nice they only gossip about terrible people)

Thank you for your request, I gotchu!!! Also fellow mean girls fan HELLO???? (im so sorry if this isnt what you wanted CRIES)

A Unanimous Agreement - Veritas Ratio

Where the statue-faced man breaks through the stone debris to voice out his thoughts about the latest gossip... ~500 words, SFW

"--And it's just so...utterly..UGH! It's ridiculous! The way she speaks , the way she walks ,it's all so irritating!" You exclaimed. Veritas raised an eyebrow at your ranting, "Darling, maybe what you need is some solace, maybe keeping your mouth shut would do wonders right now," The Doctor drawled, he didn't care to check up on the latest whatsits and doodads, gossip wasn't an appealing thing for him; merely useless chitter-chatter that plainly *radiates* of utter idiocy.

But, he supposes, he could lend an ear...

"Have you heard of Duzui? She's even worse! She's apparently from the Xianzhou and the THINGS that she have been DOING are impossibly illogical! According to some of the teacher-assistants, she's been walking around the campus sending kissy-faces to each and every person she finds appealing like she's playing bingo! " You circled around the room while accentuating some of your words to prove your point.

Ratio was sat on the couch, fiddling with his gold-leaf headpiece. To be honest, he found this "Duzui" girl quite interesting. How could someone be so idiotic and frankly, obsolete? She'd provide no use to the Intelligentsia Guild, he presumes. His eyes narrow at the thought of her attending one of his lectures, promptly ruining teaching materials just to get some sort of attention. The hairs on his muscular arms stand up as he almost shudders at the sight.

You look up from your rambling to see Veritas staring into space, resembling one of his infamous stone sculptures. His slightly parted lips made it seem like he was deep in thought. Ah, he probably didn't want to hear all these shallow words from you after a long day. He was probably thinking of some new formula to propose to the Guild, or some pose to sculpt for the next time he gets to summon a statue. He probably didn't care about gossip, or any topics that aren't to his liking.

"Oh, right. Regarding the seminar that we have to attend tomorrow at-"

"And what did Duzui do after she got kicked out of the lesson for flirting?"

You were quite shocked to realise that he not only was not uninterested with what you were gossiping about, but was invested enough to provide input.

"W-Well, she cried about it to her so-called 'friends' and left! That's all," you stuttered, sitting down alongside Veritas. You slightly nudged his shoulder, and with a roll of his eyes, he (very-not-so) reluctantly let your head fall into his lap. You looked up into his fuchsia-coloured eyes, almost losing your train of thought of what you were going to say about Duzui.

"Tell me more about her before I lose interest in yet another imbecile....The most annoying thing about idiocy is that you can't explain it to an idiot."

This soon became a weekly occasion of yours, sitting down on the couch to gossip about the latest person on the spotlight. Maybe in his eyes, you were the only one spotlighted all along.

A/N I just translated "poison-mouthed/ 毒嘴" into english for the person being gossiped's name LMAO, since anon wanted her to be a bad person

Also this one's a bit short because I couldn't think of any gossip-like dialogue for reader... Hope you don't mind, anon!

[s1llyalabaster]

SO GIVE ME HOPE ── honkai star rail, sfw ౨ৎ⠀⠀or the things they do when they miss you ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ gender neutral reader⠀/⠀ft. aventurine, dr. ratio, gepard, boothill, blade, sunday, dan heng, jing yuan, argenti. ♡ˎˊ˗

— AVENTURINE ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who uses your shirts as a pillowcase. when aventurine quivers into the night as the chill of an eerie draft embraces his lone figure with a fleeting caress that forcibly erects goosebumps along his nape, he takes one of your shirts and slips it over his pillow, letting the fabric cradle his head as he drifts back into sleep. your scent clinging to the material weave a tender memory where you are rolling onto his side to brush your lips across his jaw, onto the hill of his cheek, and behind the lobe of his ear; and it is enough to carry him for the rest of the day. he repeats this routine every night, especially after a nightmare.  in the stillness, the shirt becomes more than just fabric; it becomes a gentle reminder that you will be there when he returns home to you. it is the few acts of comfort he allows himself. as he succumbs to sleep, the shirt's embrace lulls him into dreams where he can hold you once more.

— DR. RATIO ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who uses your own conditioner. dr. ratio, usually consumed by calculations and analyses, finds solace in the simple act of feeling your essence adornimg his hair. he doesn't admit it, but each time he lathers it into his hair, he imagines your hands gently massaging his scalp, your laughter echoing softly in his mind. for a fleeting moment, the mundane act of washing his hair becomes a ritual of longing, because moments like those are when he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, letting the scent transport him to a place where you're nearby. each strand of hair becomes a canvas for his memories, painted with the softness of your touch and the warmth of your smile. this fragrance, delicate and only yours, lingers on his skin, a ghostly whisper of your presence that stays with him long after he steps out of the shower. it's a small comfort, a way to hold onto when you're not there.

— GEPARD ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who listens to the music you like.  or to whatever recommendation you send. either songs that remind you of him, songs you thought he'd like, or simply the ones you are obsessed with at the moment. he finds solace in the songs that once was a mere background, the familiar tunes evoke scenes of moments spent together, your laughter mingling with the melodies, your voice singing along with his broken harmony. in the quiet of the room, or amidst the bustle of his duties, he finds a private sanctuary within these songs, and when the silvermane guards question him, heat swells beneath the fold of his collar, and he can't help but tug at the silken cloth, ears just as ruby red as his warmed cheeks. if only for a fleeting moment, with each track, he feels a little closer to you; they are a refuge, after all, a place where his longing transforms into a tender reverie.

— BOOTHILL ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who sends you voicemails everyday. no matter if he has no signal, you have grown fond of getting up every morning to boothill's fifty belated voice notes, each message a blend of longing and unspoken emotions. it doesn't have to be about something important, sometimes, he tells you about his day: that lost little girl he helped find her parents? you let him know you are proud of him; a voice message while he is being chased to death? maybe you spent the whole day crying in a corner, but his tone never fail to soften as he speaks. there's a raw sincerity in his voice, an unguarded truth that slips through the cracks of his usual bravado. he knows you might not listen to them all at once, but that doesn't stop him from sending them, each one a small piece of his heart offered up in the hope it reaches you.  

— BLADE ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who sees photos of you. or most likely, the selfies you took with his phone. he will never admit that once in a while he finds himself scrolling through his phone in the stillness of the night, pausing at one where your smile is particularly bright, the curve of your lips and the laughter he can almost hear. your eyes hold a sparkle that seems to pierce through the screen, reaching out to touch the shadows in his heart. he's no good with softness, he knows this better than anyone. all he's ever been is burning up, like a desert caught in it's worst heatwave, and he hopes you won't hold it against him. he hopes you won't clam up again because each photo is a fragment of light in the darkness that often surrounds him, a reminder of moments that felt almost ordinary yet are now imbued with a quiet, aching beauty. he closes his eyes and lets the memories of you guide him through the night.

— SUNDAY꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who keeps personal mementos. in the quiet corners of his room, lie these treasures—small tokens that may not look like much, but mean a lot to him. he still keeps a delicate bracelet you once wore, its gentle clink a soothing echo in the stillness. a photograph of you, slightly worn from frequent handling, laughing, and he still feels the flutter you caused in his stomach. it was the heat in his cheeks, the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him: the consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning. it was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. it was you. he also keeps a pressed flower, its vibrant colors faded but its significance still as fresh as the day you gave it to him. every now and then, he runs his fingers over these items, each touch a silent conversation.

— DAN HENG꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho reads your favorite books. nestled in a quiet corner, he opens the pages you once turned, feeling the faint echoes of your presence with each line, imagining your voice narrating the passages, your expressions as you described your favorite scenes. he doesn't have to understand why you like it, or if he doesn't make any sense of it, he doesn't have to understand the book to understand you, because dan heng tells all of it fondly like it was a memory worth treasuring, but he is downright adoring when you are suddenly in the conversation. and even if the way he says your name isn't obvious enough, the way he softly speaks with eyes half-lidded is enough indication for march to let him know about dan heng feelings. in this quiet communion with your beloved stories, dan heng finds a tender peace, a way to keep your presence alive in his heart until you meet again.

— JING YUAN꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho visits your favorite places. the moment he realized that he was doing it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming: the gardens of xianzhou, with their delicate blossoms, become his refuge, as he stands beneath the cherry trees, their petals drifting like soft whispers of your laughter; at the tea house, he orders your favorite brew, the aroma filling the air with a bittersweet nostalgia. the feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at this places. it was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything. for jing yuan, these visits are a way to keep you close, a fleeting comfort that eases the ache of your absence.

— ARGENTI꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho writes letters for you. at some point in his life, probably around the fifth time you smiled at him as if argenti had hung the stars in the sky and unlocked every secret of the universe, argenti being desperately, desperately enamored of you had become an incontestable fact, just another undeniable statement. and so, he writes of the stars that remind him of your eyes, the moonlight that mirrors your gentle touch. every stroke of the pen captures a moment, a memory, a piece of his soul. and he hopes you believe it because that's the only truth that feels less like an admission and more like a fact- because you've never left his mind since the second he saw you. his words are a tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of longing and affection, many of the letters he writes are never sent but,  as he places the letters in a box, he feels a sense of peace, knowing that in his heart, you are never truly far away.

. ࣪✦ ៸៸ tottentz ▐ © 2024 ､ ? 𓄹 ܵ ۪

[s1llyalabaster]

ratio x alhaitham sibling au

ratio+alhaitham sibling au! where:

they sit together, crossing their arms when their blonde partners make a terribly, terribly wrong decision

they begrudglingly open their fanmail from secret admirers of their respective organisations, shaking their heads in sync when they read something sappy or "utterly shameless and disgusting", in their words

ratio cringes at any type of pda kavetham do in the house, promptly locking himself in his room before something that he doesn't want to see happens

ratio's face turns a slight red when alhaitham teases him about who he wants to pursue, and hits him over the head with his book

aventurine and kaveh hold them back from fighting each other (well, aventurine wants to enjoy the show, but for the sake of it, holds them back to see what funny insults they come up with to throw at each other)

they hold a lecture together, one with brows furrowed, trying to teach the class in peace, and another finding a way to distract him with snarky remarks (you can guess which one is which)

[s1llyalabaster]

Aesthetics

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none {wc: 757}

↣ I’m an academic lover, which is why academic rivals to lovers >>> and is also why alhaitham and veritas ratio are my faves.

↣ i don't know what compelled me to add the fake email thing at the end. (also looking for gi/hsr mutuals ♡)

Thinking about in a modern au with the 3 of you taking a lot of the same modules at uni.

On an academic level, you guys respect and even admire one another. But on a personal level? Wellll....the three of you despise being bested by each other.

Though, you guys aren’t too confrontational so it’s usually just sarcastic smiles and mocking praise that could almost be considered genuine if the three of you didn’t know each other as well as you do.

“Ah, you did well, that’s....nice, isn’t it?” Veritas muses as he looks over at you.

“I guess you’re just soo unbelievably intelligent.” Alhaitham adds in with a forced smile, followed by a slight eye roll as he turns his head for a moment.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

And when the three of you get stuck together for a project, it’s definitely not an effortless breeze at first.

“Why would you argue for that side?” Veritas raises an eyebrow at Alhaitham, shaking his head in frustration.

“Because this point of view has more crucial points that we can use in the debate.” Alhaitham retorts, using his hands to make his point, as if it should be obvious.

“Forget the side we’re arguing, why the hell are you two using these texts as evidence? They were proved to be fabricated years ago.” you scoff as you open your own laptop to send them an email with links to better sources.

“Oh I’m sorry, miss perfect, are my references not to your liking?” Alhaitham said condescendingly as he then turned to look at you. “Forgive me here, but we’ve worked on these topics before and crazily enough, I performed better than both of you.”

"Yeah yeah, okay, Mr ego, anything else you want to add?" you raise your eyebrows as you hold his gaze.

Veritas facepalms slightly as he rolls his eyes. “Look, if we’re gonna act like immature kids, let’s just work separately." He sighs, "We'll just join up at the end for feedback, that way we can ignore one another for now and at least get something done.” Veritas says to which you and Alhaitham silently agree.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

His suggestion did work initially, but it wasn’t long before you all realised that you’d have to interact somewhat if this project was going to get a good mark. And so after a begrudgingly sent email by you, asking to be civil and join up, they hesitantly obliged.

This time around things were definitely going better and you guys actually worked well as a team, ideas bouncing off one another and adding onto each other’s points. Research, arguments and writing were all delegated between the three of you and this new system worked efficiently.

As the next few weeks passed, you found the three of you were quite similar, not just academically but interests and hobbies too. Also you could all keep up with one another’s sarcastic and witty humour and the three of you found enjoyment in it.

This then extended out of the regular meetups, small waves on campus or a little ‘how are you?’ every now and then when you’d bump into each other at a nearby café. It was no longer 'just civil', but leaning into friendly territory.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Alhaitham strolled into the room you guys had booked for the next hour or two, three drinks in hand. 

“Coffee, the way you like it. I remembered this time, thankfully” he laughs a little as he hands Veritas his drink.

“Andd a tea for you because you refuse to drink coffee for some reason.” you reached up to take it, your hand lingering on his as he met your gaze, a small smirk crossing his face.

Veritas cleared his throat, pulling you out of the brief moment. “Right well, I think if we just finish up this last section, we should be good to go.”

You nod, “Yes and I was also wondering if you could read this passage that I wrote, I’d appreciate your guys’ input.”

The both of them agree, with Alhaitham adding, “I also want a small end section with each of our views, that way we can highlight everyone’s individual strong points as well, because you and Veritas have made some meaningful contributions.”

And you smile at the maturity and growth between the three of you. You were all working together successfully, building one another up, rather than competing.

And for once, you all appreciated one another on a personal level too.

༄ Bonus:

༄ m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[s1llyalabaster]

Just wanted to say that I love your work and can't wait for more also if you ever run out of ideas then here I had these in my head it's the only things in there so take good care of them please (.1 what if after they failed to bring the reader to them they went to the reader to reverse isekai style. 2 {not sure of your boundaries when it comes to writing so please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable with it also sorry if it makes you uncomfortable} what if reader is hurt like self harm/ assault/ robbery or something like that how would the characters react would they be mad?. 3 what if you made a hand made gift for every character how will they react and for my last idea how would they react to the reader singing or cooking or even the characters reading a fanfic about the reader maybe even a book the reader made?) anyway that's all that's left in this head but remember to take breaks even if you don't feel like you need one trust me you do burn out isn't something that's fun also remember that even if your mind plays tricks on you and tries to put you down remember that you are loved and appreciated also take care of yourself to many people aren't doing that and I don't want to be anyone's mom yet

From 🐉

wow

cool first emoji anon

alright uh

i’m gonna split this into parts

writing the first and second suggestion first because i think they would work well together

Started creation on: 7/7/2024

cw for (implied?) death and the incredible tension and maybe some other things

Breathe in.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Somebody is in your house. Don’t panic. Whoever it is doesn’t know you’re here. It’s a small, cramped space that you’ve hidden in, but you don’t notice that fact when your life is on the line.

You’re not sure if the intruder is armed or not, but you aren’t giving up your disguise to find out.

A long creak of the door notifies you that they’re definitely approaching your safe haven- which is slowly becoming a danger zone.

You place both hands around your mouth to try and mask some of the sound your breathing produces.

You can hear footsteps.

The light is let in.

You let out a scream.

_________________________________________

They- more specifically the combined intellect of the geniuses of the realm that stood- were sure.

Blue moon the chances may be, the geniuses could hold and draw upon fortune and fate just for this very moment, as the imaginary concepts were drawn in by the thought of the madness they were going to commit once again-

They were trying to see their beloved Guide once again. Having learnt their lessons from the last attempt, the new collider was much more durable and steady; and more importantly, it was safer. Because now the devotees weren’t just attempting to bring the Guidance to them, no, they were trying to transfer theirselves to Their realm.

“Is everything in order? We don’t want to fail a second time, don’t we?” Walking down like a bride on the aisle, the (most definitely) unmarried Herta stared at her work partner, Screwllum.

“Affirmation: Absolutely. The Absolute Exclusion Harness is ready for use. All we need now is for someone to use it. Question: Who will take up the mantle?”

“Me, of course! I had the Harness tailored to my proportions, after all.”

Screwllum paused for a moment, his CPU processing the information given to him.

“…Question: You… brought your actual body here?”

The puppet that Herta was using shut down and fell limp, its eyes going dark as a sign of lost connection. Herta- The real, in the flesh, Herta- waltzed into the room. She looked more mature than most of her puppets, though still quite young for her certain age.

“Of course. What kind of acolyte would I be if I couldn’t even see my master in person?”

”Affirmation: You already know the answer.”

They both remained silent for that fleeting moment, before Herta decided to make her move.

“Start it up.”

_________________________________________

It’s a small, cramped space that she appears in, but she can manage. She knows already that it will lead to the greatest moment of her lowly life.

“Looks like the harness didn’t come with me,” She mused, “I’ll have to improve on the design…. that can wait, though.”

She opens the door to what she assumes is a closet, letting the light in. She ponders why The Almighty would live in such poor conditions compared to what They deserve.

A corpse falls out of the closet she was just in. It brings her disgust.

And then she sees who the corpse is- or rather was.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono

She hadn’t cried in a long time. Her eyes began to pour tears, and when no more were left, she cried blood. Like a child scared of the dark, with a closed door and no nightlight, she held her God ever closer, trying to find some sort of signal that They were still alive- breathing, pulse, brain activity, anything.

In place of her dreams, now there was an eternal nightmare.

Like a banshee, she- and the rest of the universe she called home- would weep.

_________________________________________

First Edition completed on 7/10/2024.

A/N: wow procrastination hit me hard. also i am very sorry for the low quality ending. maybe i might make edits to this? anyway i have more to work on so i’ll get back to the other suggestions later

[s1llyalabaster]

the man, the myth, the legend himself dr ratio veritas ... is now made public !!

fyi . . . i have a bot request form you guys can send requests to !! updates are slow, i apologize (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) but i'll try my best to get through them, and i will only do requests that fall within my comfort zone !!

DR. VERITAS RATIO

“if one day your brain shows symptoms

of dullness, then please

give the doctor a call.”

ᯓ★ catching a glimpse of him working out.

you couldn't, for the life of you, tolerate such an arrogant and narcissistic smartass like veritas ratio... but oh, you wouldn't mind seeing those muscles and that handsome face of his again, even if he himself pissed you off. luckily (or unluckily) for you, your little trip of seeing him at the gym to hand over some important documents gave you quite a good view of this egotistical man.

ᯓ★ he couldn't understand you.

to dr ratio, nobody in that damned guild really lived up to the vision he hoped; none of them shared the same sentiment or kind of intellect he possessed, and it made him frustrated and somewhat... lonely.

that was, until he met you. he had acknowledged nobody before as a genius, nobody but himself, until there was you. but there was one thing this genius couldn't decipher about you... and it was the fact you did not seek to eradicate the plague of ignorance with him in the intelligentsia guild.

why, oh why, did you reject his offer to expand the universe's knowledge with the greats... only to be a humble servant for others?

ᯓ★ your academic rival.

veritas ratio prided himself on the fact that nobody could come close to his achievements and intellect at his university, he was just that good at everything he did.

however... you ruined his peace of mind and decided to give him a run for his money by taking his spot as the top student last semester by a few points.

though, as much as you both had a mutual distaste and rivalry for each other going on... you two were paired together for an important project. and of course... you had to work together. hooray.

ᯓ★ nobody thought he would be a family man.

not a single soul that knew dr ratio ever had the feeling that he would settle down with someone he would love more than himself, than his books, theses, and knowledge–let alone have a child with them.

however, you and your child with him are living proof that even a man as cold and critical as him are capable of loving and finding their purpose as not only a scholar, a professor, a doctor... but as a parent.

ᯓ★ your ex husband.

after being married to dr veritas ratio for three years and ending your union with him after such a fruitless and one-sided relationship... you had felt so liberated, as if all those years with him were just a bad memory for you.

however, when you went out to dinner at a high-end classy restaurant, the very last thing on your mind that time was the chance of you seeing your ex husband again... only for that one slim chance to come to fruition, with you being face to face with the man who seemed to never love you when you two were together.

his amber eyes gazed back at yours with a hint of longing in them, of endless nights of longing for you, his ex spouse...

ᯓ★ he wants to be your only one.

dr veritas ratio is a universal level problem solver; capable of engineering such helpful devices that saves planets and star systems across the galaxy, delegating on important issues for the good of humanity, and an important doctor that alleviates the malady of ignorance... with 8 PhDs to his very famous and well-known name.

...it shouldn't bother him this much that you're so obsessed and giggly about a bunch of pixels across your screen that utter binary code that translates into words you comprehend... right?

then why is it that as he tries to relax in his bathtub that he can't seem to get that release he's seeking from the pent-up frustration he gets when a character from your favorite game compliments you, gives you gifts, or... says they want you to be theirs. surely, he can find a solution to this finicky problem he has to make you his again, no...?

[s1llyalabaster]

HOLY

[s1llyalabaster]

CATACLYSMIC ☾

INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.

Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.

With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence. 

He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.

Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.

Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.

God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.

“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face. 

Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.

His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’. 

If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough. 

“Have you found it?” 

You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster. 

You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.

“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”

“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”

Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself. 

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.

How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write. 

Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)

He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project. 

The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project. 

The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts. 

“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”

You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.

Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect. 

Statuesque. 

His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul. 

“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning. 

You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.

“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. 

“It’s not good, either.”

You scowl at him. 

“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand. 

You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.

“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”

You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had. 

You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself. 

Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings. 

His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him. 

You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow. 

You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman? 

“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat. 

His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils. 

“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance. 

You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist. 

Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light. 

“It’s deplorable.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair. 

“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”

You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh? 

“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name. 

Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either. 

You were so wrong. 

More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero. 

He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.

Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious. 

“Ratio.” 

He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”

“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”

“Are you going to stop looking down at me?” 

The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?

“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”

You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”

You glare at him. Your chest stings. 

He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”

“Why?”

“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”

Your eyes widen.

“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”

You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”

“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”

You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction. 

“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”

“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”

His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer. 

The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it. 

He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant. 

You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad. 

“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”

“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”

“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”

“Jackass.”

“Change it.”

You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks. 

“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching. 

“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”

“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”

“Then learn.”

“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”

“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”

“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”

“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”

“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”

He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line. 

“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”

You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research. 

Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands. 

“I’m done.”

“Show me.”

You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully. 

Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines. 

But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.

He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light. 

“It’s good.”

You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”

“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”

“Huh?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What potential?”

He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy. 

You happened to be the one exception. 

“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”

“You think I have potential?”

“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”

He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile. 

Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas. 

—

The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors. 

He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such. 

But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom. 

You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns. 

It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions. 

You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was. 

He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once. 

He hated it. 

It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him. 

Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you. 

“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it. 

“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”

You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back. 

With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again. 

But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble. 

The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation. 

You wanted to slap him. 

Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?

You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class. 

You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you. 

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Tutor me please.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”

“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”

He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”

He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”

You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”

He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”

He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.

But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you. 

It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself. 

When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door. 

You were a picture to behold. 

Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head. 

You were messing with him again. 

Two could play that game. 

“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”

“What, like alcohol?” you huffed. 

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.

He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be. 

His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation. 

It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?

“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”

“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed. 

“You’re too smart.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“Smart ass,”

“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”

You groaned. “Where?”

He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief. 

“You understand?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”

“I won’t. Now get out.”

“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge. 

Remarkably, he pulled out two beers. 

“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”

A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Wipe it off then.”

A frown.  His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall. 

“Drink and leave.”

“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness. 

“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand. 

“I do.”

“Are you lonely or something?”

“No, people are irritating.” Like you.

“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.

“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”

“If you say so.”

Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass. 

One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath. 

“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.

“What was that?” 

“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so.  He squints at the ground. 

He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.

“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”

“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you hate me?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then why are you like this?”

Your eyebrows raise. 

“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”

“...Sorry?”

“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”

You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south. 

“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes. 

“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.

“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”

“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”

“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”

“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought. 

“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else. 

As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall. 

You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze. 

You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?

“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.

“You tell me.”

Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices. 

He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast. 

“You’re a siren.”

“Am I?”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”

“I hate you.”

“Really?”

“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”

“Are you a masochist?”

“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”

“How? Why?”

“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”

“Are you normally this analytical of people?”

“No, which supports my point.”

“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”

“No. I hate you for it.”

“Let me go then.”

He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door. 

“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it. 

“Polar opposites.”

“I mean who am I to you?”

He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space. 

“Veritas?”

“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.”

You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this. 

He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”

“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”

“Night.”

Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill. 

written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024

[s1llyalabaster]

Not the way you expected - Cyno

Where the General Mahamatra, Cyno takes care of you.. but in an unexpected way. ~800 words, Fluff and crack

Another one of your hacking coughs ricochets off the walls of your bedroom. You laid in you and Cyno's shared bed, sore body taking up the whole bed. Yet, nothing would ever be on par with being in your lover's arms. Obviously, he was muscular enough as the General Mahamatra to purge the wrongdoings of criminals all over the vast lands of Sumeru ; but that doesn't mean that he was uncomfortable to lay on, of course not!

Unfortunately for you, Cyno seemed to be working overtime, which was odd for the justice -pursuer as he usually left impressively on time, dropping his headpiece and weapon in seconds. At this point, you were sweating under the piles of blankets - some borrowed from Collei, yet too cold to put them away. Stuck in this dillemma, you decide to get out of bed and wobble out of your room, unsteady footing taking you to the kitchen to fetch some water.

That would turn out to be a very bad decision.

The next time you opened your eyes, you would be laying limp in Cyno's arms, but not in the way that you wanted. 'Great timing, Cyno...' you thought.

"Hey, hey! Can you hear me? Do you need me to take to you Tighnari?"

You'd never heard him sound so frenzied and frankly, out-of-charater. Yes, you've broke through his calm and cold composure to reveal softer and much, much funnier sides of him, but this wasn't something you expected nor wanted to see.

"I'm fine, Cyno...Just give me a second to steady myself, " You creaked out, slowly getting back on your feet as you found the nearest couch or chair to sit on. Your hazy vision searched for Cyno's worried eyes. He looked distraught, as any normal person would be in this situation. Coming back home to your beloved passed out on the ground would evoke some sort of panic even to an ever the cold-hearted person.

"I knew you left work early, but I didn't expect it to be this bad, " He said, voice still fast-paced from the lingering distress. Cyno positioned your arm to go around his shoulder, as he hoisted himself up while carrying your torso and legs in a "bridal carry". Occasionally taking wary glances at you, he began to walk to your shared room. And at last, you returned to your bed once again.

Cyno gently put the back of his hand against your forehead, feeling your burning skin. "We've gotta get that down somehow," he glanced around the room for anything that he could use to cool you down, and ended up grabbing a towel and water, then putting it on your forehead. "uuuuugh... so cold..." Your hand instictively went up to your forehead, but ended up interlocking fingers with Cyno. "You've gotta stay still for this to work, okay? I know it's hard , I've had one hell of a day, too."

Once you heard of his troubling day, you started to feel a bit guilty. As aforementioned, he'd already known of your sickness, but some part of you still wished that you didn't get sick, so you wouldn't have to burden him. Fever making you a bit unstable, tears started to well up in your eyes. "What's wrong, my love?" Cyno uses his free hand to caress your cheek, the other still holding your hand, giving it a little squeeze. "I just...feel so burdensome. I don't want you to come home from a bad day and have to take care of me." You sniffled.

"Don't ever feel guilty for asking for help or care, alright? That's my duty as your lover, and if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll take care of them," Cyno firmly stated, a threatening aura bubbling off his words. You smiled, how did you manage to find someone like him? You were just a regular researcher in the Akademiya, and you managed to meet him through your stoic senior, Alhaitham. During a group dinner, his jokes made you laugh (they were quite terrible, but you'd never admit it to his face.) , and his relaxed and laid-back demeanor out of work was really attractive to you.

"Hey, how about I tell you a joke to make you feel better?"

"...?"

"I don't trust the trees in the Dharma forest, they seem kinda....shady."

His deadpan face was what made you crack up the most, the way he delivers his jokes so unemotionally was really the charm point. Your giggles turned into loud laughs, and then into even louder coughs, bouncing off the walls yet again. Cyno's eyes widened at your hacking, and quickly went to rub your back to soothe you.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that..."

"Nah, I'm better off coughing than crying."

(why do i only write for purple characters: sampo, ratio, cyno)

(sorry gepard)

[s1llyalabaster]

When mediocrity meets the supremacy - veritas ratio

Where the Doctor narrows his eyes at the trailblazer for stealing his partner's attention.. ~700 words, SFW (not necessarily connected, but read part 1!

AU where reader followed the trailblaze before quitting to pursue further studies in various fields of science with Dr. Ratio himself in the Intelligensia Guild. (Might not be entirely lore accurate, trailblazer doesnt go to Belobog)

Your mind brings you back to the soft swishes of water during your bath with you beloved. it had been almost 5 system hours since the last few drops of bathwater went down the drain, small petals being the only thing that signified your intimate rendezvous with the Doctor himself.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to pull away from the sweet, dream-esque scene. You find yourself struggling to focus on the task at hand, the smug face of Vertitas Ratio plastering itself all over the wals of your mind like the "WANTED" posters all over belobog's brick walls you saw during the journey to Jarilo VI with your old friends.

Speaking of the trailblazers, you had planned a small gathering with the Astral Express members in the evening, since they were visiting. You had yearned to see the faces of Marth 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt, even Pom Pom. You've heard from March that there had been a new member of the Astral Express, going by Caelus. Judging from March's bombarding texts of photos and videos, he seemed to have a quite....eccentric personality, but bore a kind expression nonetheless.

You'd adequately dressed yourself up after returning to you and Dr. Ratio's humble home, opting to switch to a fancier outfit. It was a speical occasion, after all. You loosely linked your arm around Veritas' very reluctant arm, walknig towards the round table where the members were sat.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Himeko addressed your name, and drifted her eyes to the grey-haired trailblazer to the opposite of you. Dr. Ratio narrowed his eyes, you slightly nudged him to get rid of that old habit, hard enough to get a small grunt out of him.

"Say, Trailblazer. How has the Astral Express been treating you?" You asked, watching as the gears slowly spun into action in his head, almost as if someone was controlling him through a game screen.(teehee)

"Well..I've been through lots of unforgettable journeys with the Astral Express, and they've shown me much care in a...familial way."

You nod your head, satisfied at the answer before you. You reminisce about your days spent on the Express. Whether it be happy or hurtful, significant but sad. A clink of the wine glass drew everyone at the old-fashioned western-styled restaurant's attention.

"Come on! Won't a handsome man just come up and sing along to this song with me?!"

The woman dragged Caelus' arm towards the center stage, handing him a hat. He gracefully donned it on his head as you watched in admiration. Since Caelus was younger than you, you had an almost...motherly love to him. But Veritas didn't seem to take it that way.

You clapped along to the rhythm of a song sang by the singing duo - composed of a random woman, and the newest member of the Astral Express. The soda bottles hopped in joy as the trailblazer returns to his seat. Ah, a livehouse, I see.

Throught the scene, Ratio's eyes trailed alongside your movements; every captivating smile, every clap sent to the trailblazer, every whoop or cheer sent to him, every---

Graphs and charts were buzzing about in his mind. His analytical brain was working at full speed. "What made him to be so charming when it was me that needed to be appealing?!" No amount of data or statistics could account for how much love he had for you in his heart, yet he couldn''t show it, and you were about to be taken away by--

"Veritas? Are you alright?" He had awoken to your soft touches on his face. He'd abruptly sat up on the bed that he once laid on. Pause. An epiphany occured in his mind, "You...the party...!" He tried to compose himself, yet his drunk-dazed (teehee) mind wouldn't cooperate. "The party went greatly, dear! Half the time, you were zoned out, just staring at some random poster about Robin and Sunday!"

Veritas' eyes widened. "I didn't say anything....preposterous, did I?"

"Well...only something about wanting me to be your super private secretary, and only yours-" "Ridiculous! Utterly absurd!"

Putting on his alabaster head, facing away from you. Looks like the Doctor won't be able to admit to his jealousy...