#Academy Entrance Arc

[live-love-boruto]

Ep. 6 | The Final Lesson

Rating: 20 / 25 | Watch

Plot: 4 / 5

Characterization: 3 / 5

Visuals: 5 / 5

Importance: 4 / 5

Entertainment: 4 / 5

This was an excellent episode, probably the best one so far. The stakes were high and so was the animation quality. It shines in the character animations, which are generally very clean and on model throughout the episode, and in the underwater scenes.

Aside from a brief planning stage in the middle that kind of spoils the suspense, the episode is tense and leaves you guessing how Boruto, Shikadai and Mitsuki are going to get out of it. In the end, their plan to (semi) drown Shino and his insects was a little extreme but necessary. I love the expansion on Mitsuki's character, showing that he is still mysterious and possibly a threat to the main cast, while also not really valuing his life as a person (yet.)

The one hiccup in characterization was a brief moment where Boruto was making very light of the situation, which did not fit the tone of the rest of the episode or his previous reaction to the situation. Everyone else's characterization was spot on, and Boruto redeems himself later by falling back on his compassionate and self-sacrificing nature.

I would have also noted that Shino should have decimated these kids (based on how broken he was in OG Naruto), but it's acknowledged in the episode that he was so out of it that he likely didn't know what he was capable of, which is a very interesting development of the possession, which previously fully utilized the characters' abilities.

I would highly recommend this episode and think it (and by extension its predecessor) are vital on a rewatch.

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 004. the blueprint.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 4.3k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: holyyyyy its finally here !!! this chapter was totally supposed to be the chapter that kind of puts things in perspective and establishes some world building BUT ALAS I GOT SIDETRACKED... -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

The lecture hall is silent, save for the occasional shuffle of paper and the measured rhythm of Anaxagoras’ voice. The afternoon light cuts sharp lines across the rows of desks, dust motes drifting in the air like suspended thought, catching on the edges of his words.

“A fractal begins with a base function,” he says, voice steady but threaded with something deeper—something that hums in the spaces between his syllables. “This is its essence. The foundation upon which all complexity unfolds.”

He doesn’t write an equation. Instead, his hands move through the air in clean, deliberate arcs, shaping the concept in motion.

“The Mandelbrot set,” he continues. “begins with a simple recursive function. A value is taken, transformed, then fed back into itself. Each iteration alters the outcome—but the fundamental pattern remains.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his next words settle into the quiet.

“Small differences in the starting value can lead to vastly different structures. But no matter how much it expands, the same signature is imprinted within it. Recursion does not create randomness. It does not erase its origin. Instead, it refines, elaborates, expands. The original form is never lost—only expressed in infinite variation.”

The pen in your hand is warm from where you've been holding it too tightly.

Anaxagoras moves seamlessly into the next thread of thought. “The human mind operates on patterns,” he says, underlining the phrase on the board with a slow, deliberate stroke. “Not in the sense of mindless repetition, but as a structured, evolving process. We recognize, reinforce, and refine information based on prior input.”

Something tugs at the edge of your mind.

“Consider language acquisition,” he continues. “A child is not born knowing a language, yet the structure for it already exists. Exposure, experience, and interaction shape the outcome, but the capacity is inherent. The process is iterative—the same foundation, refined through use, altered by context.”

Your pen hesitates, ink pooling in a single dot on the page.

Ilias nudges your arm. “That same page has been open for five minutes,” he mutters.

You don’t answer. 

It’s there. Right there, just beyond reach—woven between the lines of his lecture and the contours of your own thoughts.

Your gaze lifts to him.

Anaxagoras isn’t looking at you directly, but you recognize it now—the way his tone shifts when he lingers on certain ideas. His phrasing is precise, yet measured, as though anticipating the moment someone follows him past the obvious.

Anticipating you.

Ilias nudges you again. “You’re making the face.”

You blink. “What face?”

“The one where you’re about to say something wildly specific that sounds normal to you but makes the rest of us reconsider whether we know what words mean.”

You swat at him without looking, keeping your attention fixed forward.

"If individuality is a function of iteration," you say suddenly, the thought slipping free like a thread pulled from a greater weave, "then at what point does the original form stop being relevant?"

Silence.

A shift in the air—it’s subtle.

Anaxagoras pauses. The chalk in his hand stills just before it touches the board. But he doesn’t turn. Not yet.

"You assume it does," he says instead, his voice measured. "Why?"

You hesitate. "Because—" You try to grasp at the thought, but it’s slipping, unraveling. "Because if every iteration changes, then the original—"

"Changes how?"

You blink. "Through variance. Accumulated difference."

He nods, but it’s not satisfaction. It’s expectation. "And yet?"

You frown. "And yet it still carries the same process—"

"So is it severance?"

You inhale sharply. "No."

He turns now, finally, and the weight of his gaze lands fully on you. "Then what is it?"

You search for the word, the shape of the idea curling at the edge of your thoughts.

"Extension?" you murmur.

Anaxagoras watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then—so slightly you almost miss it—his fingers tighten around the chalk.

"Hm."

A pause. 

The weight of his gaze—assessing, acknowledging, remembering, as though he’s not just hearing your words but recognizing them, as though he’s tracing a pattern he’s seen before but can’t quite name.

Then, just as smoothly, he turns back to the board as if nothing happened, resuming his explanation.

You exhale sharply, pressing your lips together to stifle a grin.

You’re not sure if you should thank Anaxagoras or be absolutely, thoroughly frustrated with him.

Maybe both.

He takes a step forward, chalk tapping against the board in a series of crisp strokes as he shifts the topic. And then—

“Ilias.”

Ilias straightens instantly, caught mid-whisper.

Anaxagoras doesn’t turn. “If a system is defined by iterative transformation, how do we distinguish between growth and replication?”

Ilias scoffs, leaning back like this is the easiest question in the world. “Obviously, if a system changes with each iteration, it’s growth. If it just repeats the same process without meaningful difference, it’s replication.”

A beat.

Anaxagoras finally glances over his shoulder. “Incorrect.”

Ilias blinks. “What.”

Anaxagoras turns fully now, expression unreadable. “Your answer assumes that change alone defines growth. It does not.”

From beside him, you let out an involuntary snort.

Ilias’ head snaps toward you. “Oh, now you have an opinion?”

You press a hand to your mouth, eyes gleaming with barely suppressed amusement.

Anaxagoras waits.

Ilias flounders for a moment, then straightens again, clearing his throat like he can salvage this. “Okay, well—uh. If the transformation process is… uhh… significant enough, then—”

A long silence.

You don’t even try to hide your giggle this time.

Ilias throws his hands up. “Why are you laughing? You got to say your freaky little statement in peace!”

Anaxagoras raises an eyebrow. “Language.”

Ilias pales.

You wheeze, turning away.

Ilias exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair like he’s fighting for his life. “Alright, fine. Recursion isn’t just about repetition, but about… contextual… refinement..?”

The silence hung thick, oppressive, as Ilias struggled to string together a coherent thought. His hands fumbled with the papers in front of him, and his voice cracked under the pressure. It was clear to anyone with half a brain that his attempt to impress Anaxagoras had backfired—again.

Then, cutting through the stillness, came a voice. Quiet but firm.

"It’s not just about change. It’s about the system responding to its environment. If it doesn’t, it’s not really transformation. It’s just… repetition."

Ilias’s head snapped up. The voice had no warning, no introduction—just a cool, steady presence that seemed to effortlessly cut through the tension.

For a split second, he blinked in confusion, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He’d been so caught up in his own rambling, he hadn’t noticed anyone else was around. But there, seated a couple chairs over, was a girl he hadn’t seen before. Dark, hair, eyes sharp with quiet confidence, arms folded across her chest. She was a mystery—a calm, collected contrast to the chaos that he had just created.

Ilias swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "That was… uh. Really well put." His laugh was quieter this time, edged with something like genuine relief. "I was—yeah. Definitely struggling there." He hesitated, then, almost earnestly: "Thanks."

The girl didn’t say anything right away. Just tilted her head slightly, studying him with a kind of quiet amusement.

Anaxagoras’s gaze flicked between them, the silence stretching just a beat longer than comfortable. Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose, barely a sigh but just enough to be perceptible. His eyes landed back on Ilias.

"Struggling is a generous term," Anaxagoras said dryly.

Ilias groaned, dropping his head onto his desk with a thud.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Anaxagoras exhaled slowly, a faint, begrudging noise escaping him. His gaze flickered back to the girl for a moment, a brief acknowledgment that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“Acceptable,” he said, his voice crisp and without fanfare, before his attention returned to Ilias. “This time.”

It was as close to praise as Anaxagoras was ever likely to give.

You grin. “That was impressive. Truly.”

Ilias glares. “I hate you.”

But across the room, Anaxagoras’ gaze flickers back to you for a fraction of a second—just enough for you to notice, just enough to make your pulse quicken.

And then, as always, he moves on as though nothing happened.

Yet, your thoughts linger, trailing behind you as the lecture ends, as you gather your things, as you step into the quiet corridors where the conversation still churns in your mind, unfinished.

The evening air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves as you and Ilias walk down the winding campus path, the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes the only sound for a few moments. It's a comfortable silence—both of you are still processing the mental gymnastics Anaxagoras just put the class through.

And then, of course, Ilias ruins it.

“I’m being publicly executed in that classroom,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Every. Single. Lecture.”

You glance at him, amused. “What are you even talking about?”

He throws his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the part where he treats me like an enrichment activity for the class while you get revered like some kind of academic deity.”

You snort. “I am not—”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he cuts in, shaking his head dramatically. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the designated clown. To live in fear of the moment he decides today is the day to obliterate me for sport.”

You raise a brow. “Maybe if you stopped making questionable philosophical takes—”

“No. It’s too late for me. But you—” He points accusingly. “You get the pauses.”

You blink. “The what?”

“The pauses,” he repeats, exasperated. “You ask something, and he actually stops. Like, for a second, he’s just standing there, processing, recalibrating his entire existence before he answers like he saw it coming all along, and proceeds worships the ground you walk on. Meanwhile, I breathe wrong, and he materializes a ten-minute verbal essay on why I’m incorrect.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Oh, it is,” he deadpans. “I’m a walking rhetorical question to that man. You, on the other hand? He actually looks pleased when you speak. It’s sickening.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you,” he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets, before something catches the corner of his eye– "Hey! It’s a dog!"

You barely have time to process before he veers off-course, pointing toward a scruffy-looking mutt curled up near a campus bench. The dog lifts its head, ears perking, but doesn’t bolt. Its fur is a patchwork of colors—mostly brown, with streaks of white and black—and though it looks a little unkempt, it seems well-fed.

"Do you think it's a stray?" you ask, stepping closer.

"I mean, it’s wearing a bandana." Ilias crouches, squinting at the little fabric tied around its neck. The dog watches him, tail thumping hesitantly against the ground. "Could be a lost pet. Or maybe it just—"

The dog trots forward, sniffing at your shoes before nudging its head into Ilias’ leg. He yelps, stiffening. The dog wags its tail harder.

"Okay," he breathes, lowering his hand. "Okay. This is happening."

Just as his fingers brush the dog’s fur, a voice interrupts. "Ah—hey, hey, don't scare him!"

You turn towards the source—a striking figure with windswept white hair, piercing blue eyes, and an air of effortless charm, jogging up to you, grinning like you’ve all just been reunited after years apart. His crisp, button-down shirt is a pristine shade of ivory, tailored to fit perfectly without appearing rigid. Over it, he wears a sleek, deep-blue blazer, unbuttoned, its lapels lined with subtle gold embroidery that catches the light as he moves. The blazer is paired with well-fitted slacks of a similar navy hue, pressed yet comfortably worn. A fine gold watch glints on his wrist, peeking out whenever he gestures animatedly. His shoes—polished but practical—carry a quiet confidence, much like him.

His energy is immediate, warm and bright, like he’s been waiting all day for a reason to talk to someone. 

"Sorry about that!" He slows to a stop, catching his breath. "This little guy's not a stray—he just likes hanging around here. We feed him sometimes."

You blink. "We?" 

The dog immediately abandons Ilias and darts across, tail wagging furiously as a second man crouches, offering food from his hand—a stark contrast. This one has sharp red eyes, dusty red hair falls at his shoulders. He, in contrast, wears black. A fitted, long-sleeved dress shirt clings just right, the top few buttons left undone, exposing the faintest hint of skin. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, revealing the inked patterns winding down his left arm. A single silver ring rests on his hand, catching the light as he idly scratches behind the stray dog’s ears. His charcoal-gray slacks fit comfortably, cinched by a belt with an unembellished black buckle. Unlike… blondie’s polished look, his ensemble leans effortlessly sharp—a perfect balance of refinement and disregard. 

"That answers that," you murmur.

The white-haired one—Phainon, judging by the way his companion sighs his name in exasperation—grins. "Sorry if he harassed you. He’s just a friendly little guy. I’m Phainon, by the way! And the one who’s pretending not to give a damn right now is Mydei."

At his name, the other man—Mydei glances up briefly, gaze flickering over you and Ilias before returning to his task. He places the container on the ground, and the dog immediately perks up, trotting over to eat.

Ilias, still kneeling awkwardly, exhales. "Okay. Not a stray. Noted."

Phainon beams. "Yeah, he just likes people! Kind of like me."

"Don’t compare yourself to a dog," Mydei mutters, scratching behind the mutt’s ears. Despite his dry tone, there’s a distinct lack of bite to it.

You exchange a glance with Ilias, who looks like he's trying to decide whether this interaction is going to be amusing or exhausting.

Mydei, meanwhile, finishes setting down the food, and the dog immediately perks up, trotting over to eat. Phainon watches with fondness before turning back to you both.

Ilias, undeterred, crouches slightly, watching as the dog happily devours its food. Then he tilts his head. "Wait, does he have a name?"

Phainon perks up. "Oh! Yeah, we call him—" but before the word fully escapes, Mydei cuts in flatly. "No, he doesn’t."

Phainon sighs, as if wounded. "Well, someone refuses to name him anything else–" 

"He doesn’t need a name," Mydei replies, scratching the dog behind the ears. "He’s fine as he is.” 

“We call him—his name is Dog." Phainon interrupts and proudly exclaims. 

Mydei exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "'Dog' is not a name."

"It's a perfectly functional name," Phainon counters, crossing his arms. "It tells you exactly what he is."

"It tells me you’re uncreative," Mydei mutters.

Ilias lets out a quiet laugh. "The dogs name is… Dog?"

Phainon nods enthusiastically. "Yes! And he responds to it! Watch—Dog!"

The dog does, in fact, lift his head, ears twitching.

Mydei gives him a long, unimpressed stare. "He also responds to literally any sound you make. You could call him ‘Toaster’ and he’d do the same thing."

Phainon gasps. "Toaster is kind of cute."

"Absolutely not."

You exchange a glance with Ilias, both of you barely holding back laughter. The dog—Dog?—wags his tail, blissfully unaware of the existential debate happening over his name.

Phainon turns his attention back to you, his grin softer now, less performative. "Anyways, you two should join us in the evenings if you’d like to befriend Dog over here! We usually hang out around here and—well, I do… and Mydei pretends he just happens to be here."

"Because I do," Mydei deadpans, but he doesn’t refute any further, turning his gaze to you instead.

Ilias glances at you. "Well, I don’t have anything better to do."

You hum, considering. The dog has finished eating and is now curled up against Mydei’s side, content. Phainon looks at you expectantly, his posture light, easy.

...That does not sound like a productive use of your time.

"... I’m in." you say. 

Phainon cheers, Ilias pats you on the back, and Mydei only shakes his head, unimpressed.

But even as laughter rings in the air, your notebook sits heavy in your bag, pressing against your side like a restless thing. The pages whisper against each other with every step, the unfinished nonsensical equations scrawled within tugging at you like a sleeve caught on a nail—persistent, insistent, refusing to be ignored.

Maybe that's what brought you here, you tell yourself.

The door to Anaxagoras’ office door creaks as you push it open, stepping into the dimly lit office. Anaxagoras looks up from his desk, dark eyes flicking to the threshold with the mild expectation of a routine interruption. But when he sees you—alone, unannounced—something in his expression shifts.

You don’t exactly wait for permission, as you cross the room, pull out the chair opposite him, and sit.

His pen hovers over the page. He does not tell you to leave, nor does he acknowledge your quiet audacity. Instead, he sets his pen down, fingers pressing lightly against the desk’s edge, and waits. A slight lift of his brow, but no verbal response. Just patience. A steady, expectant silence.

"Professor," you greet, as if a sliver of formality might excuse the sheer audacity of your unannounced arrival.

Your gaze flickers down to your notebook, its pages filled with hurried, half-formed thoughts—equations scrawled into the margins, trailing off as if they were abandoned mid-realization. You don’t need to check them. You already know they lead back to the same question.

"The base function," you begin, voice measured, "remains the same, no matter how many iterations occur. No matter how much complexity emerges, the original structure is never erased."

Anaxagoras leans back slightly in his chair, studying you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for theorems that refuse to be solved.

"And?"

You exhale, fingertips brushing over the ink-streaked paper. "If that applies to consciousness—if the mind isn’t just pattern recognition, but recursion—then that means identity isn’t fixed. It’s an evolving expression of an underlying structure." 

Something flickers in his gaze. He rises.

Not abruptly, not impatiently, but as if drawn by the gravity of the conversation. His chair scrapes softly against the floor as he crosses the small space between you. He does not sit at the edge of the desk, does not fold his arms in some passive stance of authority.

Instead, he leans over your notebook, shoulders nearly brushing yours.

The scent of coffee lingers on his shirt, mingling with the fainter trace of old paper and ink. His gaze moves over the mess of your notes, scanning the tangled web of equations and annotations, before settling on you again.

"You're making an assumption," he says, voice lower now, more measured.

You tilt your chin slightly, meeting his gaze. "Of what nature?"

His fingers hover near the edge of the page, not quite touching, but close enough that the movement draws your attention. "You assume that the core of identity—the thing that stays the same through every iteration—is purely structural." 

The silence stretches between you, taut as a thread on the verge of snapping.

Your breath is steady, but something in your pulse betrays you. He is too close. Not inappropriately so, not in a way that crosses any boundaries—only in a way that makes the air shift. The room smaller. The moment stretched just slightly beyond its logical bounds.

It would be easy to answer. To argue, to press forward, to let the academic current carry you both into safer waters.

Instead, you only watch him. 

And for the first time, you wonder if he feels it too.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your pen.

"The base function has to be structural," you counter, though your voice is softer now, measured against the weight of the space between you. "If it weren’t—if it were mutable at its core—then what holds continuity between iterations? What prevents identity from collapsing into chaos? What keeps one’s identity from falling apart?"

Anaxagoras doesn’t move away. He studies you the way he studies difficult problems—patiently, intently, as if waiting for the answer to emerge in real time.

"And yet," he muses, "if it were purely structural, if the function was rigid rather than dynamic, then identity would be deterministic. There would be no true variation between one individual. and another"

Your breath catches—not at the words, but at the way he delivers them. Low, deliberate, as if testing their effect. 

Your eyes flicker back to your notes, searching for the answer already buried in the ink-scrawled equations.

"If recursion alone dictated identity," he continues, fingers brushing the page near a half-written derivation, "then all of our decisions would be predictable, predetermined by the constraints of that function. But something else is at play."

You glance back up at him. "Emergent complexity."

A small, almost imperceptible nod. "Iteration isn't replication. Each step in it's expansion is influenced not just by the base function, but by external conditions—context, interference, interaction. No two paths are identical. Every recursive process has the potential for divergence."

You inhale sharply, following the thought as it unfolds, as it threads itself between the logic you already understand and the realization taking shape. 

He watches the shift in your expression—sees you arrive at the same conclusion.

"If identity," you say slowly, "is shaped not just by its internal function, but by its interactions—"

"Then when two distinct but intrinsically linked patterns cross paths," he interjects, "neither walks away unchanged."

The words land too heavily.

Not just because they are true, because they make sense.

But because he isn't speaking in hypotheticals anymore.

For a moment, neither of you move. He is still leaning over your desk, too close, breath dusting lightly against your shoulder—warm, uneven, just barely there. His presence presses into the space between the pages, the margins, the frantic scrawl of your thoughts. 

Your fingers brush against the edge of your notes. "And what happens," you murmur, almost to yourself, "when two of these... structures become entangled?"

Anaxagoras holds your gaze.

"You tell me," he says.

A slow breath. Hesitation.

"...Change is inevitable," you murmur. "Not a choice, not an accident—just a consequence of proximity." 

Something flickers across his expression—too brief to name, too quick to be certain.

He should correct you. Should challenge the conclusion you’ve drawn.

Instead, he watches you, head tilting just slightly—less like a professor considering a theory, more like something else entirely.

Your breath stills. The moment lingers too long.

You shift slightly, glancing down at your notes.

"Perhaps," Anaxagoras says at last, his voice quieter than before, "but not all change is equal."

"... And what determines the difference?" you ask, softer now.

His eyes don’t leave yours. "The depth of the resonance."

The night air hums with a quiet sort of clarity as you step out of the grove, the weight of the conversation still curling around your ribs like an uncollapsed waveform. The campus pathways are near-empty at this hour, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. Each footstep crunches softly against the gravel, the rhythm steady, measured—nothing like the chaotic pulse beneath your skin.

You aren’t entirely sure how long you sat there in his office. The concept of time had blurred somewhere between the pages of your notes and the weight of his gaze. Between the fractal recursion of thought and the unsettling realization that—perhaps—you weren’t just speaking of equations anymore.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you walk.

(If recursion applies not just to thought but to interaction—if the base function of identity is altered through contact—then what does it mean that his presence lingers in your mind long after the conversation has ended?)

The wind shifts, cool against your skin, but it does little to steady the unshaken cadence of your pulse.

Anaxagoras had let the silence stretch before you left. No dismissal, no final remark to wrap the conversation into something neat and containable. Just that lingering weight—his dark eyes studying you, as if waiting for you to arrive at the realization before he acknowledged it himself.

(The depth of the resonance..?)

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as if that alone could unravel the thought from your mind.

Your dormitory looms ahead, its familiar outline silhouetted against the night sky. The building is quiet when you step inside, the soft hum of distant voices muffled through the walls. You move through the dimly lit corridors with muscle memory, feet carrying you forward while your mind is still somewhere else.

Your door clicks shut behind you, shutting you into the quiet stillness of your room.

Everything here is familiar. The unmade bed, the clutter of books on your desk, the notebook you’d left open earlier with some half-scribbled thought that now feels embarrassingly simplistic. The air smells faintly of old paper and the lingering trace of coffee grounds from this morning—scents that should root you back into the present.

But they don’t.

Not when your mind is still back in that office.

Not when you can still hear the quiet cadence of his voice, the deliberate pause before he spoke—

You press your fingers to your temple, willing yourself to unspool the loop of recursion that has latched onto your thoughts.

It’s fine. This is fine.

The conversation had been an extension of an intellectual discourse, nothing more. You were both speaking in abstracts, exploring a hypothesis. That’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done.

Then why did you feel so different?

You swallow, exhaling through your nose.

Your notebook is still in your hands, the pages curled slightly from the way you’d gripped them on the walk back. Slowly, carefully, you set it down on your desk, flipping back to the last scrawled equation.

Identity = f(Iteration, Context, Interaction)

A slow inhale. Your fingers brush over the ink-streaked margin, a reflexive motion—an attempt to ground yourself.

Then, after a moment, you reach for your pen.

The ink flows smoothly as you add another line beneath the equation, hesitating for only a second before you let the words take form.

Resonance determines the rate of transformation.

You stare at it.

And then—slowly, deliberately—you close the notebook. 

-> a/n: hey, if you've made it this far i SERIOUSLY commend your strength. i had to take several breaks while proofreading this because i, the writer, myself could not process their words at one stretch... erm... so, here's a mini explanation with an analogy, if any of you are actually interested in what they were talking about. Imagine you're building a snowman. At first, it’s just a small snowball in your hands. But as you roll it, more snow sticks, and it grows bigger and bigger. You stack more snow on top, shape it, maybe add a scarf or a carrot nose. No matter how much it changes, the first snowball—the one you started with—is still there, buried inside. It never went away, it just became part of something bigger. That first snowball here is like the core of 'identity'. Everything else—your experiences, choices, and changes—builds on top of it, but it’s always there, shaping who you are.

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette@hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom@yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @somniosu

[motthe]

OKAY- idk if requesting twice is okay or not- but if you have the time! Can we see more Mel and reader (lumen au or otherwise)? Where reader has what is essentially Amara’s job but more so a bodyguard type? Mel helped them out at one point and now they protect her and help her with whatever she needs! (Like finding a gift for Jayce or Passive aggressively spitting her mother) and she does the same for them with viktor and egotistical higher ups? Basically just them being each others solace, confidant that knows of the others past while helping them get to the future they deserve with Jayce x Mel & Viktor x reader sprinkled in, (first meetings, first signs of affection, etc) for all parties!

(can be ignored if your busy or otherwise dw ;3)

I hope you enjoyed this!!! I took some creative liberties and placed this in S1 arc 1 :)

warnings: gn!reader, mention of scars and sleep problems, non-sexual nakedness (you’ll get it when you read lol)

Mel rose from her desk, the wide reaching window behind her dark. There were always a few days out of the week she would stay late. She never left anything half-finished and if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t finished. 

“Fancy a stroll through the Academy?”

You repositioned yourself from leaning against the wall, raising an eyebrow. The woman approaching you was an esteemed council member and a child of Noxus. Above all that, she held a dangerously sharp mind. 

With you, a trained guard from birth and accepted by her bitch of a mother, you two made quite the confidants. 

“Why?” you asked, knowing you were going whether you fancied the idea or not. Where she went, you went. 

“Why not?” Her grin was infectious, but you saw the mischief swimming in her eyes. 

“It’s far past lockup, for one,” you began, grabbing the door for her. Your belt clicked with the movement, the weight of your gun and knives shifting. “We also have no business with the Academy.”

“We may not, but I have a feeling someone does.”

You hummed, your steps shadowing hers for every beat. Every turn down a hall, your eyes were skating for anything amiss. “This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain expelled scientist, would it?”

She hummed, smiling and confident from where you walked adjacent. 

That poor man, you couldn’t help but think. Catch Mel’s eye and you’re stuck under a microscope until she loses interest. 

“Maybe Heimerdinger has stayed late with that assistant of his,” she said, gaze cutting to you. Your eyes narrowed in warning. 

You changed the subject. “What makes you think that Talis fellow would sneak into the Academy the night of his expulsion?”

“His things are to be destroyed tomorrow morning.” 

“If we get all the way to the Academy and you’re wrong—” you complained. 

“A trip to your favorite spa, paid.” She stopped, tilting her head towards you. “And if I’m right?”

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll pose for that painting.”

She pursed her lips, flexing her fingers. 

You crossed your arms and bit out, “No.”

“It’s nude or nothing, darling,” she teased. “I need the practice.”

“You need nothing,” you scoffed, continuing in front of her to check the entrance to the council’s building. The usual enforcer’s we’re making their rounds, tipping their hats to you. 

Mel stepped out next to you, shoulder nudging yours. Your sigh trailed into the night air. 

“Fine.”

Her golden freckles crinkled with the grin that pulled at her lips. 

.

“Did you bring a flashlight?” Mel asked quietly. You gave her the flattest expression known to man in response. “May I borrow it, please?”

“No, you may not,” you answered. Even in the dark you sensed her scowl as you passed, taking up the front. “If I need to shoot someone, I need to see.”

“So violent,” she murmured. “Honestly, he doesn’t seem the type.”

“Then he’d make the perfect assassin,” you chuckled, lowering your voice as you opened the door to the staircase. “Besides, we want to go undetected, don’t we?”

“If no trouble is afoot, then I wouldn’t mind a second look at this research,” she revealed, only adding to a long night ahead. 

“What are you expecting to find?” 

She chuckled. “I do love a good surprise.”

You scoffed quietly as you climbed the steps ahead of her. “You would, miss know-it-all.”

Reaching the floor that held Heimerdinger’s office, you glanced through the window on the door before slipping it open. Mel kept her steps light as you both moved through the darkness. As you crept on, you noticed a faint glow reaching around the corner and glanced at Mel, scowling. 

She wore the look of a winner in the blue-tinted of the moonlight shining through the distant window. Slowly, she mouthed the word ‘nude’.

You shook your head, pulling your flashlight out as you motioned her to follow you. The tinkling of keys and the gears of a lock turning left you with one hand on your gun and the other pointing the flashlight forward. You held off on spotlighting the infiltrator when you noticed two figures sneaking around Heimerdinger’s door. 

“So far so good,” came a familiar ethnolect. You clicked the flashlight on to confirm your suspicions. 

Oh, shit. 

Jayce Talis and Viktor, of all people, were caught red handed, hands guarding their eyes as they were overwhelmed by the brilliance. 

“Willing to risk exile for your endeavor,” Mel spoke, taking up the space on your right as she stared the two men down. “That’s quite the conviction.”

“A counselor,” Talis breathed. 

Viktor chose another path, turning towards the door in a dramatized show of confusion. “Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom…”

“Guess those aren’t your keys either?” you hummed, moving your hand off your weapon as he looked up at you. 

“Actually, they are permitted to be in my possession,” he corrected as he stood from his crouch.

“Just like you’re permitted to be here, past lockup,” your eyes fled towards Talis before focusing his pinched gaze “with a freshly expelled student.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “that one, not so much.”

“Please,” Mr. Talis begged, stepping in front of Viktor, eyes locked on Mel. You positioned yourself between them, hand back on your gun as you pointed the flashlight towards the man. He winced, only passing you a slight flare in retaliation. “We can prove that it works.”

“You couldn’t do so earlier today,” Mel pointed out, expression deadened and feigning disinterest. Seen you had two actors in your midst. “How is tonight any different?”

“We figured out how to stabilize it,” Viktor explained. 

“I’m surprised to find the professor's assistant mixed up in this,” she murmured to you. 

“No, he’s my new partner,” Talis argued, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. Your stomach tightened. 

“Even if you managed to prove your theory the council would destroy it.” Mel burst their bubble with brutal honesty. 

“Heimerdinger will recognize the potential,” Viktor stated. 

“He already does,” she told him, “it scares him. It scares them all.”

“What about you?” Talis asked, determined. 

“I recognize that any worthwhile venture involves risk…” 

Your head turned a second before theirs, picking up on the whistling and footsteps. The night guard was heading this way. Harold. He was always the noisiest, sweetest thing. The old man refused to retire so they put him up here at the Academy. 

“There’s your risk,” you muttered. 

“Counselor,” hissed Talis, “this technology, it’s real and no matter what happens here it’s going to change our world. We should be the ones to lead it—Piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. I know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us. Please, just give us a chance!”

You stepped back beside Mel, meeting her eyes. She let the two men sweat a bit as the footsteps grew closer. 

“One night. Gentleman,” she said slowly, turning to leave. “Impress me or I’d suggest you pack your bags.”

As she walked away, you noticed the awed look in Talis’ eyes and nearly groaned. She always had to draw in the big dreamers. 

You threw Viktor a sly smile, handing him the flashlight seeing as that poor pen light wasn’t going to be much help. “Good luck, Goggles.”

You switched it off as he accepted it, fingers brushing as you left them to hide in the darkness. You caught up with your principal just as she was moving around the corner.

“Harold!” she sang, nearly sending the sweet old man into a heart attack. You held back a laugh as Me” moved him back down the hall and away from the chaotic scientists behind you. 

Left to their own devices, Viktor clicked on your flashlight and got back to opening the five-bolt door. As he crouched back down, Jayce took over holding the light for him. 

“So,” he murmured, back to the silence of an empty school, “you and the bodyguard are a thing?”

Viktor nearly dropped the keys. “Excuse me?”

“Goggles?” 

“It is a long story,” he whispered, pushing the door open as the last lock unlatched, “and we are not the ‘thing.’ Now get in.”

.

“We’re to return before dawn.”

You turned from toweling your hair to stare down Mel in her bubble bath. She hasn’t bothered to wait until you were done in your own bathroom to fetch you. She wasn’t usually so clingy, but you knew under that cool facade she was nervous of what was to come with the scientists. 

“Why do we have to lose precious sleep over this?” you grumbled, grabbing your toothbrush. 

“You?” she laughed, splashing her water over her knees. “You barely sleep as is.”

“Yeah, well,” you spit the mess of toothpaste and spit from your mouth, “blame your mother for that.”

“I blame her for many things.”

The scars over your body burned, but not from sticky, humid air. You both were quiet for a time. 

“I didn’t expect him to be there.” You turned around, pulling yourself up on the marble counter to look at her. “Viktor, I mean.”

“Guess he saw whatever you did in Talis.”

She puckered her lips at you, arms dropping over the rim of the bathtub as she laid her head on them. “Is that jealousy I hear, darling?”

“Shove it,” you scoffed, moving to do one last check of the place before heading to your room. “Also, he was definitely staring at you as you left.”

“Then you have no reason to worry.”

“Goodnight,” you bit out, shutting the bathroom door on her echoing giggles. 

.

When you knock on Mel’s door she’s back in the same clothes she wore hours earlier. It’s an hour to dawn and barely takes three minutes to reach the Academy. You hadn’t slept a wink.

Offering her a coffee, you both finished them before you were out the door. The guards at the gate gave you groggy second glances, but questioned nothing. 

You sensed the alarm in the empty halls, banging thundering through the stairwell as you both took one glance at the other and sped up your pace. 

You held an arm out as you glanced around the dark corner, eyes widening at the new blue-tinted glow that shined from Heimerdinger’s office. 

“You’ve actually done it…” The professor's voice was beyond astonishment. “But just because it can be done, doesn’t mean—will you please stop hovering?!”

“I’m not sure how to do that sir!”

Your mask nearly slipped. It was the first time you’d ever heard Viktor so…gleeful. 

Mel stalked down the hall, eyes bright with purpose. It reminded you of younger days before she slowed her steps, bringing out Counselor Medarda

“This is not what Piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys!”

The click of her heels alerted everyone as she pushed through the guards, the light of the room washing over her form. 

“That’s for the council to decide,” she stated, head turning from side to side as she observed the room. Being right behind her, you allowed awe to slip at the twinkling bits wandering the room and high above were those troublesome scientists. “Perhaps it’s time for the era of magic.”

“Uh, Hextech,” came Jayce Talis, hair sprawling out with the anti-gravity field he was caught up in. “For the era of Hextech.”

Your eyes slid from his to hers, the slender grin on her lips speaking more than praise in his direction. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help as they caught on Viktor who looked far too happy to be completely suspended upside down. He kept throwing little objects nearby towards the glistening orb at the center of the room, watching it with interest as it blipped from one side to the other. 

Some round object hovered a bit too close on the opposite side he was facing. You couldn’t help but laugh when it was transported to his side, knocking into his forehead with enough force to make him jump. 

Your voice alerted him, eyes finding yours as you cleared your throat and fixed your metaphorical mask back into place. 

“How long will this last?” asked Mel. 

The young men looked at each other for an answer that neither seemed to have. You eyed the bright orb between them, noticing it was slowly but surely shrinking in size. 

“I suggest you find your way down before you find out,” Heimerdinger called. 

“Right,” Jayce said, waving his arms until he was able to float to the ceiling. He pushed off it, getting about halfway down before gravity seemed to take hold again. He just missed a smaller table in the corner, landing with a painful grunt. 

Heimerdinger tested the space first, his hair seemed to react a bit, but he was able to make his way towards his previously expelled student with ease. You wandered in next, feeling your hair lift from your scalp as the guards were waved away by Mel. She ordered them to fetch the other council members for an emergency meeting in a few hours time. 

“The power source is growing smaller,” you warned Viktor who was still playing around with it near the roof. 

“Yes, without the cranking its energy is used up,” he muttered, more to himself than you as another object flashes through it. It shrunk by at least an inch. “Still such raw power…”

The bits of light hovering around the space were closing in. Your hair returned to its natural state. 

“Uh, Viktor,” Jayce called. 

“How big can the object be?” the man hummed, tossing a book to the orb. You stood below him, eyeing where he’d fall. The dots connected just as the book went through and the blue light went out like a candle flame in the wind. Jayce yelled. 

Your back connected with Heimerdinger’s desk, sending it scraping back in a chorus of something else moving just as gravity claimed Viktor. He knocked the air out of you as he landed on top of you. The ground shook as something else hit the ground nearby. 

You winced as the office lights burst above, taking in a slow, groaning breath. 

“Good heavens,” came Heimerdinger. “Are you three all right?”

Turning your head from the mess of Viktor’s hair in your vision, you saw Jayce lying face down on a tipped over chair with his hand fist glowing. 

“Yeah,” he said into the ground, “just thought I’d catch the crystal before it took out another building.”

“My apologies,” Viktor murmured, expression twisted in discomfort as he pushed himself off your chest. 

“S’fine,” you choked out, still catching your breath. “We’re all victims of physics.”

That broke the tension, or perhaps the adrenaline was still running high amongst the men because they both busted out into hysterics. Well, Jayce did. Viktor just chuckled and focused on getting his entire weight off of you. 

You slowly sat up, rubbing the back of your head where it had clipped the damn desk. 

“Did you hit it?”

You glanced at Viktor, dropping your hand. “I’m good, Goggles. Better than you would’ve been crashing into straight wood.”

“It’s pure oak!” preened Heimerdinger as he scuffled over, tapping the surface. “Very durable.”

“I’ll say,” you grumbled, feeling a headache coming on. 

“You should get that checked. You might have a concussion,” Viktor said, resting his back against the bookshelf behind him. Jayce had finally gotten to his knees, looking a bit bruised as far as his ego went when he glanced at Mel by the door. 

“I’ve seen them take a hammer to the head,” your principal chuckled. “They’ll be fine, I assure you.”

“It’s not bleeding,” Heimerdinger hummed. You balked at him peering around the desk. “How’s your eyesight?”

“Clear,” you said, getting to your feet. “Thank you, professor.”

Viktor remained on the ground. 

“Are you all right?” you asked. “I’m not the softest landing.”

“I’m unharmed,” he answered, nodding behind you. “My cane, however, will need to be replaced.”

You followed his line of sight and frowned at the white stick, cracked in two. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Jayce promised as he walked over, offering a hand. 

“I'll see you at the meeting,” Mel announced, eyes piercing the founder of Hextech before moving to his partner’s as he got to his feet. “Both of you.”

You moved the desk back into place, nodding to the professor as he thanked you. 

Hearing your name, you turned as Viktor offered your flashlight. 

“You dropped this,” he murmured, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips. 

“I’m sure it’s broken after that fall,” you said, checking it. The light sputtered before going out. 

“Allow me to fix it, then.”

You blinked at him, smiling at the back and forth before clearing your expression and handing it back. Your fingers brushed. 

“Sure,” you said, following after Mel. “I’ll grab it another time.”

Out in the hall, she smirked at you, unabashed. 

“You couldn’t have had the meeting in the afternoon?” you complained, rubbing your head. 

“I have an appointment at the spa with a friend of mine,” she replied. 

You sighed and kept your mouth shut, leading her out of the building and back home to freshen up again. 

“You know I might need a second opinion when I’m painting you,” she hummed as you both eased into the early light of dawn. “Viktor wouldn’t happen to be a student of the arts as well, would he?”

“You’re lucky I’m the one protecting you and not the one after you,” you growled. 

Back in Heimerdinger’s office, the men were helping clean up the mess they left behind while Heimerdinger lectured them, observing all the while from his chair. 

“Didn’t know you did repair jobs,” muttered Jayce as he shoved a book back into its shelf. 

Below him where Viktor was attempting to put the ‘cranker’ as it were back together, the man rolled his eyes. “I felt I owed it to them seeing as I failed to take care of it.”

“Right, of course.”

Viktor didn’t enjoy the amused silence seeping from his newly acclaimed business partner and slowly tilted his head to glare up at him. “Do you have something else to say?”

“Nope,” answered Jayce, eyebrows bouncing up, “nothing at all, Goggles.”

Viktor sighed. All it took was one day of brain fog and a run-in with you to earn him such a distasteful nickname. At least it taught him to check his goggles were off before leaving the lab from now on.  

“No slacking!” said the professor, swiveling in his chair to shuffle the papers scattered around his desk. “Honestly, I’m not sure how Counselor Medarda’s guard moved this desk. I thought it was bolted to the floor!”

Viktor swallowed as Jayce whistled. 

[melondecarabia]

˙⟡ 36h observation period (2/3)

leo kurosagi x fem reader 

smut, drama, some angst 

mdni! 

authors note: he's crazy in this one. also sad and angry. every person mentioned by him is catching strays lmao real hater behavior 

tw: leo's villain arc, leo jorking it, leo being unhinged, is he a yandere or just a jealous freak? also mentions of babytrapping 

summary: Leo's time in the 36 hours after escaping the consequences of his own actions. Part two to 24h sugar pill.

9:15 am 

Holy shit shit shit shit shit. 

The view of pine trees and bushes blur as he sprints at full force, Vagastrom as target. 

Leo cannot believe that happened. Hooooooly fuck. 

That fucking homewrecker! Leo can't even eat breakfast without someone fucking ruining it! Damnit! When he gets his hands on that- haaaahhhhh… He slows down, forced by the burning in his lungs and muscles. The cathedral isn't even visible in the horizon anymore, blocked by a dense forest and the distance. For once in his life, Leo is thankful that Alan forces him to go through endurance training at least twice a week. Thanks, himbo. I will hold back one insult today. 

Damn… it feels like he's drinking molten lava with every breath. Leo has to place his shaking hands on his even shakier knees to not collapse as he swallows. No one's around to see him sweat rivers, at least. He might crashout if that happened, especially after… ugh. Whatever. He'll just walk back to his dorm, and pray you don't show up. 

˙⟡

The dorm room Leo lives in is meticulously decorated, so that even with the hard to paint concrete walls and ugly fluorescent lights that he's not allowed to replace, it looks beautiful. There are pristinely arranged books on the glass table that he's never read (and doesn't intend to), and the random pipes in the corner are covered by a closet. Ultimately aesthetic, but boring and cold even with the plush carpet, so Leo is forced to wear both socks and slippers every day to not freeze. Hah. Even your run down, chaotic dorm is better, with it's warm and worn down wooden floors, and cozy atmosphere. Oof, he finally falls down to the mattress. The sound of thumping is still present, even if his breathing has returned to normal already. 

…it was placebo. He knew what the anomaly does beforehand, got hit by it, and just continued to act like a lovesick dork because he thought there would be a clear sign of when it's effects wore off. Honestly, you're an enabler, because- But he made the Pinterest boards months ago, no matter how many bullshit excuses he could come up with right now. One for every room in a house, from entrance to bathroom to kitchen to bedrooms. No no, he started them because he was bored, not because of a crush. But, gradually, with every piece of information about your preferences, the median look became a blend of his and your styles. Ugh! He takes a decorative pillow and strangles it like a maniac. Stupid anomaly, stupid pollen, stupid emo nerd- Knock knock! 

Leo's heart drops down to his ass for a good moment. Is it you? Is it that guy? "Haxs." The sound of low grumbling is a relief. Sho! He doesn't know about all that bullshit! He's oblivious to the fumbling of a century that occurred not even an hour ago! If that information makes it out of that cathedral he'll burn it down himself for fuck's sake. Or get Sho to do it with a dare? Boy's night, like the good old times. 

"Yeah yeah, don't bust down my door, Sho." The mentioned man is wearing the academy uniform, not the Vagastrom one. Low whistle. "Wow, model student Haizono! You wanna become valedictorian or what, dressed up so properly?" Leo already feels better seeing the unimpressed look on Sho's face. He knows it's not judging, or even serious, just… reacting to his banter, as usual. "Yeah, I'll win that Laurel Crown singlehandedly." Chortle, "Mido said we gotta go to undercoverology class, unless we wanna get into trouble." Leo raises an eyebrow at that. Since when has this blondie worried about trouble? "Gotta attend at least once in a while or the teachers get pissy. Less trouble going now than getting bitched at every day." Yeah, uh huh. He'll pass. 

But wait. You know he doesn't go to class. If you looked for him to talk about- ugh, you'd search in Vagastrom, not the campus! "Okay! I'll just change real quick!" Sho looks confused. "Wait, really? The fuck?" And he slams the door to avoid having to explain himself. Leo's luck is turning back! Even if you go to class instead of being dragged around to help others, you have herbology, which is on the other side of the campus. It'll be easy peasy lemon squeezy to avoid you! 

˙⟡

Is Sho hallucinating or was that your hoodie? It's pretty recognizable- also, those clothes were not something Leo wears like, ever? What the hell happened yesterday? He knows you and Leo went to some mall for a mission, but Leo didn't come back to the dorm in the evening. Maybe he showed up late? But- you know what, he'll be better off not caring. He stretches to shake off boredom, and hopes it won't become his problem. 

10:45 am 

So fucking boooooooriiiiiing. He takes back the idea of it being easy to avoid you. It's actually difficult difficult lemon difficult, but it's preferable torture to being forced to talk about that. It's was just too easy to play house, especially when there's a specific kind of torture he wants from you. Snort. A glance to the side reveals Sho is just about to fall asleep, eyes blinking one at a time. Leo's eyes fall on the still cold water bottle, and if anyone would've seen the look on his face, they would've made a swift exit to avoid getting involved. He takes the bottle, and uses it to slowly move aside the hair covering the about-to-be-victim's neck. 

All of the class whips around to look at Sho flailing like a ragdoll, after hearing the man make a sound not unlike a dying seagull. 

"WHAT THE FUCK???" As soon as he came back to his senses, Sho shot a glare that definitely cursed at least 20 of Leo's ancestors. "Haizono, Kurosagi, what-" And the bell rings, interrupting the geezer before he could say anything further. Leo shoves his phone in the pocket of your stolen hoodie, which is worn under the uniform blazer as quiet laughter still shakes his chest. "Keep sharp, Haizono!" He uses the mocking tone of the teacher to make a jab at Sho, who grabs the water bottle in vengeance. "Oh you're not running, stupid bi-" 

˙⟡

He didn't get his revenge. The blond is still smoldering in petty indignation as Leo arranges his ashen hair back to perfect dishevelment, after the thrilling chase. "Still mad? Sucks to suck, Sho." It's so funny to see him seethe. "Uh huh. Sucks that you'll have sand in your bed by evening, dickhead." It's an attempt to sound mad, but there's a clear amusement lacing the words. Whether or not he'll actually go through with the threat? Hell no. He's pretty sure he still sees Sho shimmer on sunny days after dumping glitter in his pillow case four months ago. "Hah. We should go to the beach though, I heard of this spot-" 

And the comfort of distraction is ripped away along with the rest of that sentence. "Huh? What-" A hand shuts his best friend up, as someone passes by the bathrooms. "As I was saying-" He can tell you're talking to Ishibashi from the formal language. You don't usually use that tone, but his best guess is that you only use it with freaks like that. Tri-vision, discount mad scientist, Lucci, and probably Ice Queen, but that's only speculation because of the guy's 'sophisticated' cave dweller tendencies. Scoff, sophisticated his ass. Dude doesn't leave his room, and keeps shooting you booty calls under the guise of seeing you as a servant. Leo bets that albino rat has a tailored maid costume hidden there, specifically made for you. Freak. 

"Haxs." You're already at the end of the hallway, talking about schedules or whatever boring stuff that includes having to account for being on time to meetings. Lick. He snatches his hand back from the smirking traitor's mouth. "Ew, what the fuck?" He wipes the spit on the offender's blazer. "What's up with you and her?" Ugh, the crossed arms show that the himbo's attitude has already infected him. "Nothing. Unless you want glitter in your bed again, shut up." The threat works, but a look of slight disappointment stings Leo. "If you did something stupid, I won't help you. Anyway, I gotta go prepare for lunch hour. Have fun with whatever you're up to." 

11:02 am 

Dickhead. Food truck that, food truck this. And jumping to conclusions like that? He should jump off a- nah. He's better than that. At least with Sho, that is. Anyone else? Fuck 'em. 

It's not lunch time yet… Should he go to the campus store, or the cafeteria? Nah, the hall is always crowded and noisy. And since he's avoiding you, he'd sit alone anyway as Sho's always busy. The only other person he'd even entertain the idea of sitting with would be Lucci, but he doesn't even look the cafeteria's way. So, campus store it is. You always go to the food truck when you're not busy with missions or whatever, and then eat it with either dumb and dumber in the cafeteria or with that green tea bitch and dogboy on the balcony, with Leo often invading the spot next to you. He should also pick up something for this acid reflux that keeps coming back. Leo feels bad for your braincells, they've experienced great and tragic loss in your time spent with those idiots. Deep breath. The scent of your shampoo still lingers on the fabric of the hood. He can feel his muscles relaxing. 

˙⟡

Strawberry? Nah, tastes too artificial. 

Sho's nice, reliable, and goes along with his moods. But he doesn't know shit about Leo. 

Sour apple? Nah, not even close to sour. 

Never takes anything Leo says seriously. Doesn't even really get mad when he does something stupid, pissed? Yeah, but not mad. It won't get brought up later. Forgotten, and automatically forgiven. 

Mango? Maybe, if there are no other options. 

But when nothing's taken seriously, things start to get uncomfortable. Feelings start stagnating like an abandoned pool. Old insults fester like a putrified wound. New arguments feel better than that. 

Cherry? He's only tried it a few times, but it's already his favorite. 

Leo keeps pissing you off on purpose. He makes a backhanded comment? You return it. Extra chili snuck into your food? Salt in his lunch. Equal annoyance is given and received. Conflict is resolved right then and there, even if you have to pull his teeth for it. Arguments are settled in their own difficult way, but that's more carthartic than never talking about it. Maybe some things get joked about later, but not with resentment. 

Yeah, cherry soda and chili tuna onigiri sounds good. He grabs the bottle, balancing it with the food container and acid reflux tablets. Oh, that guy. The first year from Jabberwock, the one you visit the diner for? He's pretty tall… do you like that? Leo's pretty short, after all- but it's adorable, right? Tall guys are just inconvenient, can't fit in showers, or even a bathtub, or an airplane, or- yap yap yap, doesn't fucking matter. 

He fucked up. Leo did kinda know the pollen wore off, before even an hour passed. But it was just so easy to stay in that groove of doting and clinging! Yes, you didn't entertain certain things, but you didn't make him go back to Vagastrom either. You could've called Sho or Mido, but didn't! That means something. You let him stay! You have a high tolerance for whining, so therefore, Leo's not making this shit up. You like him at least a bit, just enough for him to sink his claws into and not let go. 

Oh yeah. He can salvage this situation. Not all hope is lost for sappy date nights and steamy makeouts, or that already fully planned wedding, with a month long honeymoon to Italy. 

˙⟡

Ren is so over this. Why the fuck is that influencer guy smiling like that? He could literally feel the death stare drilling into his skull just seconds ago?? What the fuck why is he giggling like a fucking haunted doll??? Hurry up cashier man, he's gotta escape NOW. PLEASE. 

11:33 am 

The onigiri wasn't quite as hot as he had hoped it would be, but became edible enough with the help of his trusty spice bottle. The remaining cherry soda washes away the last grains of rice stuck in his teeth. It's a sweet flavor, but sour enough to not get sick of it anytime soon. Or ever, it's really good. Maybe he could get a sponsorship from the company? Worth a try, at least. 

'Thank you for your order! Purchase confirmation will be sent to your e-mail.' Mhm, first step, check. Some Mortkranken students pass by, and one of them flinches at the sight of Leo like a timid deer hearing a twig snap. Leo sends the most saccharine smile he's got, and the NPC pales at the gesture. Hoho, he'll send that request this evening. Dude didn't think he'd get away with that shit, did he? Dumbass. 

˙⟡

Pretty much only shy people sit alone at lunch in this portion Darkwick. Leo's not shy by any stretch, and neither are you, really. You were for a while, when he first met you. It's a part of getting cursed and thrown in the middle of a 50/50 deadly or just bitchy battle royale in under 24 hours, though. Starting out without a spine like a worm, but eventually turning into a beetle, instead of a fragile butterfly. Sure, pretty damn easy to kill as far as anomalies are involved, but not completely defenseless against fellow humans or insults. 

On your first meeting, you barely looked Leo in the eye. Nothing really remarkable, even easy to target for entertainment, if it weren't for you already gaining the favor of both the Frostheim ghouls and himbo in a few weeks time. Pretty impressive, honestly, and even more impressive that you didn't just give up and die after getting almost dropped to your death by that tulpa. 

You could've died back there. That could've been your final day, and it would've been Leo's fault. In that timeline, where you died, Leo wouldn't even feel bad for it, would he? Maybe it would've been an inconvenience, a severe scolding from Cap and some detention from Darkwick staff, but no real remorse for it, huh? Maybe he'd even rag on Sho for having a useless stigma, or something, but already forgetting your name after a month. Would his friendship with Sho have stayed strong, or get eroded by time and new circumstances, like now? 

But that timeline isn't this one. You didn't die, you survived, and grew even stronger. You started making direct eye contact, then standing up for your friends with conviction of steel, and by now, started going on duo missions with Leo, with only minimal complaining out of habit. Leo hates change, but that personality flip was more than welcomed. Finally, a real friend that calls out his bullshit, and doesn't talk behind his back! Everyone knows him as a popular influencer, and a smaller group knows he's a toxic cunt, but only you consistently defend him. Not when people justifiably complain about getting blackmailed or insulted, but when someone thinks he's just an airheaded baby bitch who can't fight. Yeah, Sho defends him too, but noticeably less. When he does, he's either looking for a fight, or just plain doesn't like that person. And sure, Leo can handle it, but fuck does it feel better when someone stands up for him. After all, there's only two people in his life he can talk to without worrying about getting backstabbed or ignored. It's the reason he's sitting alone right now, as well. 

This plan has to work. He chews on a well manicured nail, and tastes the bitterness of clear polish. It has to, or he'll go off the rails like sharktooth Chucky from Sinostra. He'll eat Bonnie first, out of spite. 

1:42 pm 

"Hmmm… that sounds delicious as well, so it's quite difficult to choose. What do you recommend?" Mr Beans On Toast and Mr Beans For Brains are standing right in the hallway where his class is. Fuck. The chances of you showing up just just shot up like 800%. Why the hell are they here anyway? You and the two professional dickriders have artifact studies next, not enigmatology! "Uhh, well, I usually go for the shoyu chicken. You should ask her too, since I don't eat in ramen restaurants that much." They're talking about you now. Leo knows, because no other person that has a pussy talks to Fuji, or gets within a 10 meter radius of the dude out of anything but obligation or accident. He sends a final look around the corner. You're going out with them today? Have you already told them about yesterday and this morning? Shitfuck, he can't risk being seen by them, they'll definitely snitch on the spot if you ask. Fuck it. Leo's been a teacher's pet enough for the day, he can go back to his dorm already. 

"Kaito." That tone sends a shiver down his spine, even if it's not his own name you're saying. Wait, you're here? He has to haul ass, now. "Remedial class? Again? I told you to study more." Fuck, that should be him! Fuji clearly doesn't appreciate the privilege of getting scolded by you, if the whiny excuses are anything to go off of. If he was the one getting told off, he'd piss you off even more. So much so, that you'd have no choice but to bend him over and spank him for every minute of class missed… these pants feel uncomfortable. At least your hoodie covers it up. 

˙⟡

Leo's already outside, leisurely strolling towards Vagastrom, when his phone buzzes. 

Sho: yo leo 

Sho: (y/n) asked if ur alright 

Sho: i said yea 

Leo: ok 

Sho: u need to tell me what happened bro 

Leo: no im not telling shit its nothing 

Leo: and stay out of it. i have 5 bags of glitter on hand. dont even try. 

Sho: ok damn 

Yeah, don't even try. Leo can't have anyone intervening on this delicate situation right now, especially not him or Cap. No one else either, or he'll break the record of a 3 day streak of not doxxing anyone as retaliation. He shoves the phone back in the hoodie's pocket, and hustles even faster as an ominous, but a bit too familiar cackle of a certain redheaded gambler rings out. Not today, Satan. 

7:58 pm 

Aaand posted! His muscles relax in relief as the screen of the sticker-covered laptop turns black, freeing Leo from the filming and editing process of a new video. A slight moan escapes, as he stretches out on the queensize bed like a cat. Damn, I'm a hard worker. He takes a moment to shut his eyes, to find some relief from the slight burning caused by being continuously flashbanged by bluelight. At least that's over, and now he can doomscroll as a treat! Let's see… Ugh, his algorithm is fucked up. Seeing all the wedding and family influencers right now isn't salt in his wounds, but the whole fucking spice cabinet. Ooh, a bouquet like that though? He saves it, before switching to another burner account. You know, the one where he follows everything your friends post about you? Yeah, that one! Nothing's really been posted though… Hotarubi's vice captain had an iced matcha latte, yada yada, oh. Fuji's post. Now, Leo is painfully aware that the romantic relationship with you that he posts on social media is fake. Leo himself specifically told you to not think anything of it, even if he changed his mind by now. Every picture of you two holding hands, or going on cutesy cafe dates was for content. But come on. This definitely feels like cheating! He glares poison daggers at the digital picture of you and the two idiots, sitting side by side, holding overstuffed ice cream cones. And he recognizes the logo imprinted on the waffles. Because it's from a popular date spot. Where he wants to take you. 

Does that mushroom-headed little bitch think Leo is a cuck? That he'll stand by as these dickheads make moves on you? Fuck no. Time needs to move a whole lot faster right now, he thinks, as the burning feeling of jealousy itches under his skin, like the marching of a million fire ants. Anticipation of getting to fulfill his plan starts to physically hurt, and it's as though he's possessed, with every position taken feeling uncomfortable, when the thought of you with anyone else takes over. Ragged breaths shake his ribs, as he swallows and focuses on the faint cracks of the ceiling. 

A shuddering breath calms him down slightly. Soon. As soon as you're his real girlfriend, life will be perfect, and this suffering will be worthy of that. He can cling onto you like a boa, and not let go, ever. He can put trackers on you. No onewill take you away, and he'll get his happy ending no matter what. Each day starts in bed next to you, and ends the same way. Taking baths together, shopping for groceries, going out for dates. No second will be spent apart, he daydreams, as his thighs start to rub together. Mhm, you'd come home from work on weekdays, and get greeted by Leo and two children. Your children, because he'll knock you up as soon as possible. Even before the wedding, as his hand ghosts over the front of his pajama pants, you'd be tied down even without a ring. A satisfied sigh is conjured when his hips are no longer covered by fabric. A moan, when his hand finally wraps itself around the flushed shaft. Each year, you'd have two vacations, as the first stroke rips out a gasp. One with the whole family, and the other? Just you two, a squeeze to the weeping tip. A whole two weeks, consisting of eating good food, taking photos, and sensual fucking in whatever destination you'd landed in. He doesn't even need lube right now, with the amount of precum his fantasies provoke. Each snippet of delusion is accompanied by a slapping sound, and the fire of jealousy is replaced by an intense heat in his lower stomach. 

A white light and ringing noise fills his senses, as a burst of cum shoots out to stain his shirt with a long, high-pitched moan. Or rather, your shirt that he was wearing before running off. Ugh, it's all over him, from hips, to stomach, to his hand. Sigh. He needs to calm down at least a bit. You're not really interested in anyone, he grits his teeth, which unfortunately includes himself. 

You probably wouldn't like it if he babytrapped you. In fact, you might hate him for even attempting, and leave him. Which, clearly, wouldn't be ideal. He'll just propose after a year, and then marry you right after graduation. Wedding night though? A devious grin breaks his afterglow serenity. It's free real estate. 

10:03 pm 

Leo: have it ready by tomorrow, before 1 pm. any later? those posts will guarantee getting blacklisted from every school and workplace imaginable. do you understand? 

Mortkranken Creep: Understood 

Man, this blackmail shit is easy. Leo can practically hear the guy shaking in his cheap sneakers, even over text. He spits out a wad of minty froth in the sink, and grins at the mirror to see his teeth shine. Perfect! The lights of the bathroom are off with a click, and he practically skips over to his bed. His meticulous skincare routine is done, and he even used a special face mask in preparation for tomorrow. All that's left to do is sleep well, fetch his extra fast delivery packet in the morning, and visit that gooner schmuck in the noon. Then? His plan is as good as accomplished, and he'll be wearing a cute apron and tight leggings in four years time. For now, Leo cozies up in the Egyptian cotton-covered duvets, and breathes in the scent of your shampoo that still lingers in the hoodie he's wearing. He can't wait for tomorrow. 

9:16 am 

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Where the fuck is that packet? Leo is currently shaking like a cocaine-addicted chihuahua, pacing near the mail building. If the definition of insanity is repeating an action, expecting the end result to change, Leo needs to be locked up in a mental ward. For other reasons as well, but whatever. The kimchi in his sandwich crunches with an unnecessarily aggressive bite. You sent a text this morning, asking if he's alright. Leo had to chew on his pillow to not giggle like a maniac, though Alan still looked at him weird when they crossed paths in the common area. But that doesn't matter in any capacity, as the notification of 'Your packet has arrived! Please pick it up as soon as possible!' appears with another refresh. The piece of sandwich still in his mouth almost chokes him, as Leo almost lets out a villainous laugh. 

Just before rounding the corner, he freezes. Fuck fuck fucking fuck, you and carrot top are right in front of the mail building! Another cautious peek. Whatever that guy said cannot be that funny. Obnoxious fucker, leave already! This is so unfair. 

˙⟡

Leo starts manifesting a painful death on Haru, who just wanted to tell (y/n) about the new hats he bought for Peekaboo. "Come visit soon, and you'll see how cool they are! One's a bucket hat, and the other is an orange crocheted wig! We'll really look like father and son, right? Gyahahah!" And he waves the honor student goodbye, gleefully wishing luck on her exam next week, before entering the mail building. 

While waiting for his packet to be found in the back, the usually stuffy and honestly quite hot temperature inside drops to a spine-chilling freeze. Haru turns to sneak a subtle look at the person who just entered. Kurosagi seems pretty harmless, but currently? He gulps, and prays the Vagastrom first year would blink. A thick layer of sweat appears, and Haru prays for the mail cats to work faster. That stare has him scared for his life. 

12:59 pm 

Target located. The Mortkranken student, who had the unfortunate luck of gaining attention from Leo, is shuffling nervously on a park bench. Getting closer… "Boo!" The dude doesn't even scream, but jumps up like a prisoner in an electric chair at the feeling of two hands slapping down on his shoulders. Leo can't help but snicker at the sight of the student gasping for air. "Wha- what." Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, the student turns to Leo. "K-K-Kurosagi, you-" "Oh, quit the stuttering. D-d-do you have what I need or not? I'm not here to talk about the weather." He's a busy man, can't you see? Probably not, with those overgrown, greasy bangs. Tch. This loser's a certified creep. He used the anonymous confessions board to post a degenerate fantasy about stealing your clothes and marrying you, as if he had any chance. Pathetic.

"Yeah. Here. It's, uh, supposed to last for 4 hours, with one-" Leo snatches up the small pouch, causing the guy to flinch back. "Uh huh. If it doesn't work, or causes any weird side effects, everyone on campus will know you jack off to the honor student daily. Have a nice life!" The ashen haired man skips off with a saccharine mockery of a goodbye, and starts to head on over to the cathedral. It's Friday, and it'll be a very long weekend. 

[intooned]

Jaune Arc, Huntsman Commander of The Council of Vale! Get's a call from his daughter

Jaune: Hello?

Ochre: Hi Dad!

Jaune: Hi sweety, how did your entrance exam go?

Ochre: First team to finish! But... Headmistress Goodwitch threw us out of a bullhead into a Grimm-infested rainforest?

Jaune: And here I thought Ozpin was the one...

Ochre: What?

Jaune: Talking to myself, go on?

Ochre: Ok, yeah, so, there were these two-headed jaguar/goat things with a snake for a tail, viper Grimm with leathery bat wings that would glide between the trees! Oh! And don't get me started on those ugly sloth Grimm that make you feel heavier and heavier the closer you get! We all ended up scrambling away on our hands and knees; never been chased in slow motion before!

Jaune: Sounds like you had a lot of fun.

Ochre: TONS, Mama was right, I love it here!

Jaune: Hahaha, I'm happy to hear it kitten, just don't overdue it, and make sure to give your mom a call, you know she worries.

Ochre: I'll give her a call after this. By the way, I met a friend of yours yesterday at orientation!

Jaune: Oh really? Who?

Ochre: Nurse Velvet, she said to tell you: "Don't be a stranger just because Blake won the 'Heat Streak'," what does that mean?

Jaune: NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I better get going, the Grimm rest for no one!

Ochre: Daddy wait!

Jaune: Y-yes kitten?

Jaune: I promise pumpkin.

Jaune: *Sitting atop a hill of dissipating Grimm corpses, looking through his binoculars at his daughter and her new teammates entering the bullhead that would fly them back to Beacon Academy.*

Inspired by this scene, where Qrow was secretly thinning the Grimm during RNJR's trek through Anima.

Turns out this is something the council does for every batch of students, but Jaune wanted to handle this year personally.

[jinwoosungs]

08/10/24; 04:00pm

sung jinwoo x reader / sung jinwoo x cha hae-in

{ oneshot - angst to fluff }

- the academy arc -

{ we can’t be friends | but i’d like to just pretend | you cling to you papers and pens | wait until you like me again | wait for your love | love, i’ll wait for your love��� }

perhaps you were destined to suffer with this unrequited love, you think to yourself while sneaking glances at jinwoo, watching as he turned the pages of his textbook while jotting down notes within the confines of his notebook.

currently, you were both studying for your upcoming college entrance exams. jinwoo had invited you over to his place, and you were settled within the quiet sanctuary of his room. surrounding you were pieces of jinwoo that made your heart turn even softer for him, and you swore you would never get used to how his scent seemed to permeate at the air. taking a break from your own studying, you decide to admire the various trophies he had won during his time spent on the track team.

of course, such winnings came as no surprise for you, since he had always been shockingly athletic. that fact has never changed-

however, his reasoning for joining track in the first place was what made your heart clench painfully within your chest. you recalled that day like it was just yesterday...

it was the first day of high school, and you recognized jinwoo from your elementary school years. gathering your courage, you decided to sidle up to his desk, earning a smile from him when you disclosed your identity to him. as you struck a conversation with him (reminiscing on old times), some rambunctious guys began heckling jinwoo while they surrounded both you and him. they made you incredibly nervous, and as one of them reached out to you, jinwoo immediately stopped them from grabbing you, standing from his seat as he spoke in a stern tone.

"leave her alone. if you want to get to me, then talk to me directly."

your eyes go wide when the boys seem to freeze up before moving stiffly away from you, their steps shaky and uneven, like they were puppets being controlled on a string. seconds later, they were all tumbling into the hallways, making your eyes go wide. a soft chuckle was heard coming from jinwoo, and once you looked back, you saw the secretive smile on jinwoo's face.

you may have had a crush on him at that very moment.

after that day, you cling to jinwoo like a lost puppy, having stars in your eyes at the mere sight of him. you comment on how much taller- on how much braver he had gotten since you had last seen him. while you gushed on him, he simply gives you a kind smile in response.

"thanks... i guess you could say i've worked out a little bit since i've grown."

"a little bit? jinwoo, you practically tower over everyone here! you must have plans to join an athletic club or something, right?"

jinwoo ends up considering your words with a hum before smiling back down at you. "i suppose i'd like to give track a try... after all... there's someone i'd like to meet."

his admission makes you stop dead in your tracks, your heart clenching just the tiniest bit when you see the warmth within his stormy gaze. he was clearly thinking about someone achingly special to him... and that made your throat close up as you struggled to get the words out.

"oh really? who is she?" you were surprised at how even your voice came out, unsure of why you were feeling this way over meeting an old friend again. jinwoo meets your gaze from your periphery and gives you a kind smile. "she's someone that's special to me... and i've waited a long time to meet her again."

that final confession was what ultimately stops you in your tracks, your heart aching at the fact that you would never get such a chance to be with jinwoo, especially when his heart had already been captured by another.

he notices the way you stop walking next to him and stops as well, eyes appearing wide when he asks if you were okay. you manage to let out a forced laugh, not wishing to admit the truth to him when you told him how you forgot you had a meeting with an advisor (a lie you had made up on the spot).

jinwoo ends up believing your lie and nods, walking closer to you so that he was now settled directly in front of you. amusement was seen in his gaze, and you could feel your breath become taken away by the sheer beauty and kindness of his smile. his large hand reaches out to you, and he ruffles it before stepping back, "okay, i'll see you tomorrow then. i'm going to head to the track field and talk to the coach about joining."

you nod and lift up your hand in a wave, watching jinwoo as he walked away from you with a heaviness felt in your chest.

since then, you tried to avoid him, or at least, tried to put some distance between you and him, yet jinwoo could never seem to take the hint. ever since that first day, he had already deemed you his best friend, further trapping your heart with the tendrils of love and affection you felt growing for him.

you spent the next three years remaining by his side, studying with him while supporting his efforts with each tournament he attended. yet instead of growing out of your crush for him, it grew to genuine feelings of love for him.

and this fact did little to hide the pain and envy you felt each time he answered her calls or eagerly replied to her texts, sometimes even going as far as meeting her during weekends to take her out on cute little dates-

looking back at him now, you felt your heart ache with the sheer amount of concentration was seen on his face. he was working so hard to be with her, to build a future with her-

a future that you were certain you could never be a part of.

in the midst of your reveries, jinwoo meets your gaze and gives you a smirk, "what are you looking at? is there something on my face?"

you shake your head and look back down at your textbook. since jinwoo admitted his feelings for this young woman named cha hae-in to you, you threw yourself into your studies and managed to make incredible grades. due to your own heartache, you decided to study abroad to get away from south korea, wishing to attend university in the united states, within the city of new york, to be exact.

you didn't think they would accept you, yet by some miracle, you were chosen to spend 4 years at a university there, hence why you were currently studying up on english grammar. however, there was a catch-

you had yet to tell jinwoo about your plans for college.

letting out a deep breath, you give your best friend a tiny smile before beginning to speak.

"jinwoo, i'm so sorry, but there's something i have to tell you."

he ends up frowning at your choice of words. "okay, what is it?"

with a heavy sigh, you shut your books and tell him, all while stuttering along the way, "uhm, w-well, you know h-how our school offers a s-study abroad program for u-universities we wish to a-attend?"

jinwoo's frown seems to deepen. "yes, i know about it."

"w-well, i signed up for the program a-and got accepted... i'll be moving to america soon."

hearing the news makes jinwoo drop his pen in response. "w-what? you're going to america?"

you could feel the anxiety coursing through your veins, "y-yes... i got accepted into a university in new york city and plan to leave near the beginning of january."

"NEW YORK CITY?!" jinwoo suddenly jumps out of his seat, his eyes widening so much that it seemed to bulge against his features, "t-that's so far away from here... why did you choose to go so far?"

to be as far away as i can be from you and the woman you love. but you don't tell him the truth, choosing to tell him a half-truth of sorts when you answer, "i've spent my whole life here, jinwoo. i think it's only natural for me to wish to expand my horizons and experience new things."

"y-yeah but... it's four years... what if you decide to never come back here?" jinwoo's voice becomes quiet all of a sudden, with his fists remaining clenched against his sides.

you let out a soft laugh, packing up your belongings one by one into your backpack. once everything was neatly in place, you stand back to your full height and meet with jinwoo's gaze. "it's okay... i'll be sure to keep in touch by texting you or calling you... but, i-i hope you'll forgive me if i forget or am too busy to call..."

an unreadable expression was seen in jinwoo's eyes, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn that his eyes flashed purple before going back to its original slate grey hue. not wishing to cry in front of him, you cling to your backpack and quickly excuse yourself, not even able to find the words to apologize to him for telling him such news of your departure so suddenly.

while you made your escape from his room, you were unaware of how jinwoo's intense gaze focused on your shadow, seeing loyal, glowing purple eyes looking back at him in understanding...

{ ... }

why was jinwoo such a mess now that you were no longer here?

after working so hard to pass the entrance exams for the last few months, he had plans of spending some time with you before you left for america... yet when he arrived at your place, you were nowhere to be found as your parents had told him that you had already departed for new york-

it had only been november at the time-

so you had lied to him as well?

and why did jinwoo's heart felt like it was on the verge of breaking?

your sudden departure coupled along with your obvious deception made jinwoo's heart clench with an unknown emotion. here you were, thousands upon thousands of miles away from him, leaving jinwoo feeling like he was drowning.

all of those shared laughters and inside jokes-

the times you spent remaining by his side during each and every one of his track meets-

and those late nights spent studying together, falling asleep together within the comfort of his bed-

had everything been all for naught?

with your absence drilling a hole within his heart, he found that not even hae-in's calls and texts could bring him out of this slump. jinwoo admits to how her beauty and awkward kindness had once ensnared his heart, making him think of nothing but meeting her again once he reset his timeline-

yet now, with you so clearly gone from his life, he found that he could not focus on anything but the memories he had of you-

memories of your smile and the way you would snort each time you tried to hold back your giggles while in class-

memories of how you would hide your face within his shoulder each time you watched a horror movie together, as if trusting him to shield you from all the monsters-

memories of how he could spend hours on end simply watching you sleep-

and it was only when you left him that he realized the truth of his feelings-

that you were the one he felt the most comfortable with... that by the end of the day, he would always need you and you alone...

with thoughts of you pushing him forward, he decides to finally come clean to hae-in one late afternoon on christmas eve. he wears his usual coat with a dark pair of jeans, expression forlorn as he felt conflicted with potentially breaking her heart. while walking across the streets of the city, he stops walking, already sensing her presence when he turns around to face her.

hae-in's hands were outstretched, bewilderment painting her beautiful expression. "there you are." jinwoo manages to smile at her, making hae-in take a step back as she brushes a hand across her golden strands of hair.

"it's like you have eyes in the back of your head, jinwoo." she hums and steps closer to him, "you took your college entrance exams last month, right? congrats. are you still going to the university you chose before? you got really good grades, so why are you set on going to that university?"

that was when things began to feel awkward on jinwoo's end. he coughs and was unable to meet hae-in's curious gaze. looking away from her, he shakes his head, "no, unfortunately, my plans have... changed since then."

hae-in seems taken aback by his confession, and jinwoo feels a wave of empathy coursing through his veins when he notices her expression, "i-it's not because of a woman, is it?"

jinwoo tears his gaze away from her, unable to give her a truthful answer without hurting her. yet, it seemed as though his silence was more than enough, making tears fill at her grey eyes as realization dawns within her tearful expression. "o-oh..."

with a shake of his head, he steps closer to her, "i'm sorry, for breaking our promise so suddenly. i thought... i thought i knew what i wanted... but... looking back on it now, she was the one who was by my side from the start."

hae-in's shoulders began to tremble in response, further filling jinwoo with guilt. "she was my best friend... and... she left me to pursue her dreams in america. now that she's not here, i feel... lost without her..."

"y-you wish to follow her?"

jinwoo closes his eyes before giving hae-in a nod. "i do."

a sob was heard escaping from hae-in, and jinwoo could feel the way she shoves him away from her, body trembling as she ran back home. his expression was filled with regret, watching hae-in running away from him. the soldier he had placed within her shadow lengthens in response to her movements, and jinwoo knew that she would be protected even if he wasn't around.

{ ... }

there was an odd sense of freedom felt coursing through your veins when you moved into your dorm, ready to start the semester. you were still surrounded by suitcases that held each and every one of the items you had deemed important to you.

as you took out each item from your suitcase, your eyes go wide when they saw a thick photo album you had no recollection of packing. taking it out, you watch as a note fluttered out of it, recognizing your mother's handwriting as it read:

i just wanted to pack you a little surprise; memories of your home, of family and friends who wish for nothing more than to support you. come back home and see us soon. love, mom

with tears filling your vision, you open up the album and flip through the first few pages, laughing at each picture before turning the page once more-

this time landing on a photo that had you and jinwoo smiling at the camera.

seeing his handsome face makes your heart well up with emotions you thought you had tossed aside. as your fingertips shakily trace at his handsome features, a sense of guilt filled you. you had purposely ghosted him, wanting nothing more than to leave south korea, just to put some distance between you and the man you had always loved-

a man who you believed with all your heart would forever remain an unrequited love.

unable to handle the pain of seeing jinwoo's face, you slam the album shut and let out a shaky breath. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and your sadness was so potent- so palpable that it made the blood rush to your ears.

in fact, you were so distracted that you didn't hear the knocks at your door for several minutes. you gasp and look toward your front door, taking shaky steps toward it as you unlocked it.

"s-sorry, i was distracted, are you my roommate?" you spoke in english, earning a grunt from the person you assumed would be your roommate.

a deep hum was heard, "damn right i am." his face was covered by a huge box in his hand, and you saw the way his long legs kicked his suitcase inside, with your head tilted in response. you notice how he also spoke in english, yet there seemed to be a hint of an accent in it. a strange sense of familiarity fills you, and when you close the door was when your roommate puts down his box-

revealing himself to be sung jinwoo.

your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, with you taking a step back while meeting jinwoo's annoyed gaze. "jinwoo?!" you speak to him, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "t-there's no way... is it really you?"

jinwoo remains silent, simply taking casual steps closer to you, effectively trapping you against the wall. "who else would it be?" his reply was casual, and you flinch slightly upon feeling the way he brushes back your hair. with both hands settled against the wall, jinwoo prevents you from moving as he looks down at you, grey eyes shining with amusement.

your heart was felt pounding within your chest, making the heat travel all the way up to your cheeks when you shakily ask, "w-what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be with hae-in?"

the jerk had the nerve to smirk at your question! he ends up humming in response, taking a hold of your hand to press a kiss against the back of it "are you jealous?"

you end up sputtering in response, "are you teasing me?"

he hums, "and what if i am?"

before you could answer, jinwoo ends up taking you directly within his embrace, chuckling as you struggled to get out of his powerful arms. "jinwoo!"

he simply hums once more before settling himself on the couch with you, hands already delving themselves into your hair as he leans in to give your cheek a kiss. such a sudden display of affection was enough to make your head spin as jinwoo tightens his hold on you. "when you left was the moment i realized you had taken a part of me with you... a part of me that i never wish to have returned."

his words manages to stun you, all coherent thoughts ceasing as pure and utter hope fills your gaze. he smiles down at you in a loving manner, choosing to frame at your face while continuing, "it hurt me, realizing how you chose to leave so suddenly without even telling me goodbye... but shockingly enough, it was thanks to your absence that i realized the reasoning for your departure was because of me all along."

"jinwoo..." tears fill at your vision, making jinwoo slowly lean down to press you against the couch in response. his gaze was intense, and he brushes back your hair before telling you, "you left because you loved me... yet i was too stupid and blind to realize it... until now..."

your breathing hitches when jinwoo leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. you eagerly respond to him, kissing him back with a fervor (pouring all of the yearning and heartache you felt for him building up within those 3 years). jinwoo groans against your parted lips, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling away from you.

jinwoo's handsome features were all you could see when he smiles down at you, and you allow his large hands to delve themselves into your hair when he kisses your forehead once more, "i love you... i realize that i cannot live without you... so please... will you promise to remain by my side and never leave me again?"

his question makes you giggle, eyes filling with absolute adoration for him when you lean up to press a kiss against his lips all while reassuring him, "i promise..."

that was the moment the years spent yearning for him (along with your heartache) vanished completely as jinwoo captured your lips in another breathtaking kiss, swallowing the sounds of your laughter completely…

end notes: this is so self indulgent for me (⺣◡⺣)♡ but it was so worth writing. currently unedited, but i'll make any necessary changes once this is posted. once again, i don't trust tumblr to keep my drafts for long 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[rahuratna]

Synopsis:

"Welcome, Visitor, to Jujutsu Guild Academy, tucked discreetly away in the rolling foothills of the Byre Veld Mountains. Our team of expert sorcerers, now misfits and outcasts from society, gather here to train their talented students, as well as use their exceptional skills to solve cases brought to them by those who know the true nature of the Guild ... much like yourself. We invite you to place your case at their disposal. We guarantee that you won't be disappointed."

Genre: Fantasy AU, mystery, suspense, horror, humour, detective agency

Content warnings: dark themes, murder, violence.

Rating: T

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

Part 1

“Balance is paramount in the world of sorcery, and yet, not easily understood or visualised. The Magical Clade system, developed in the planetary turn of 214, embraces the diverse nature of magic in all forms. Bitura and Matura; the predictable and the unexplored, the two known aspects of sorcery existing side by side in a tenuously held set of universal scales, cannot be wholly characterised by our existing body of knowledge.

Let us then examine their five known components, the arcane origins of which have, thus far, been the subject of much theorising. Human, planetary, chaotic, contractual and natural, different facets of a world we have only just begun to comprehend … “

~ An Introduction to Arcane Clades, A. Zahari.

At the top of a hill in a small vineyard, near the age-smoothed arc of the stairs that lead to an imposing set of oak doors, an elderly man hesitates.

Jirou has arrived against the will of many in his village, seeking the kind of help he knows won’t be available to him elsewhere. He looks up, at the white-painted walls of the former winery, now converted for the purposes of the sorcerers who call this their base of operations.

It seems … peaceful. Idyllic, even. He can see why this place would be a retreat from the bustle and whispered condemnation of society. Now, if only he could muster the courage to –

The doors swing open, and he takes a step back. A man appears in the cool, dark entrance. He wears a short-sleeved white shirt, ideal for the balmy weather, and smart black trousers and boots. His neatly parted hair and the manner by which he adjusts his glasses mark him as one of the officials who probably run the day-to-day operations of this place.

“Good day to you. How may I assist?”

The tone is polite, clipped, professional. Jirou clutches at his straw hat, rotating it nervously within his stiff grasp. He clears his throat.

“Ah … um. Forgive me for intruding. I’m here to see … well, here for help. For my village. I’m from Setsana, just east of the river.”

The bespectacled man glances him over in frank assessment before stepping quietly back through the door and gesturing to him to follow.

“This way.”

“Eh?”

“You want to meet with the sorcerer’s guild, yes?”

“Well … yes, but I thought – “

Jirou sees a glimmer of humour in the eyes of the dark-haired official.

“You may call me Ijichi. What is your name?”

“Jirou.”

“Well, Jirou of Setsana, this agency does not screen their clientele based on location or status. You are clearly here for some assistance, and you’ve asked for it. Now the sorcerers will hear your case.”

Scurrying up the steps and into the cool foyer, Jirou glanced warily around. It was not quite what he had been expecting. The interior had indeed been re-purposed. The terracotta-tiled floor had been preserved, rustic and slightly dusty underfoot. Comfortable rugs had been placed around the airy space. Eclectic, somewhat mismatched antique furniture added a certain charm to the room.

A large hearth stood dormant against one wall, the exquisite grey river stone banded with wooden shelves. Large glass doors opened onto a walled garden on one side, a small courtyard with a carved fountain placed centrally. A wash of cool, fragrant air entered through here, beckoning languidly as Jirou followed Ijichi out and into an adjoining annex.

Clearing his throat, the farmhand addressed Ijichi again.

“Who is it that I’ll be seeing, exactly?”

“Magister Higuruma. He hears all cases and determines what action can be undertaken.”

Ijichi paused, turning slightly, his eyes kind.

“Don’t be put off by his … manner. He simply wants to get to the heart of the matter. Just answer clearly and truthfully. Try to stick to the facts. Wait here for a minute, please.”

Leaving Jirou stewing in the hallway, Ijichi disappeared behind another door. The faint noise of voices, the rustle of paper and a cough could be heard from within. Jirou contemplated turning around and leaving hurriedly. Not running away, no. A tactical retreat. What if this Higuruma was –

The door clicked open and Ijichi reappeared, all too soon.

“You may go in and state your case.”

And thus, Jirou’s fate was sealed.

Higuruma Hiromi was seated behind a large desk, scattered with papers in what could possibly be described as ordered chaos. Jirou entered with the air of a man braving the den of a vicious mountain lion. Higuruma certainly gave off the according aura.

Dark hair, combed back, but slightly dishevelled from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it. The sardonic set of his mouth, the aquiline nose, and above it all, the deep-set, unsettlingly attentive gaze that traced over one’s form, taking in every detail. Higuruma wore a well-tailored waistcoat, gold embroidery over the sable material, his white shirtsleeves rolled back. That faint trace of disorder spilled over here too, visible in the rumpled collar, the ink-stained hands, the dark smudges beneath his eyes that spoke of inadequate sleep, the symptom of an intellect that raced over the landscape of the mundane, gathering a horde of minutiae in its wake.

“Jirou of Setsana?”

“Yes, sir.”

Higuruma waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the seat before his desk and Jirou hurried forward to comply. On the table was a map of the area, marked with a varied array of ink colours and symbols. Jirou was also surprised to see a farmer’s almanack beside the map. He hadn’t ever expected to see such a humble, worn document on the table of such a sorcerer. The sight steadied him, somewhat.

“Thank you for taking the time to hear my case.”

He received only a nod in reply. Higuruma laced his fingers over the desktop and leaned forward, the only signal that Jirou should continue.

“Ah. Um. Our village has been experiencing … some strange things lately. Animals put out to pasture turning up dead. Lights in the forest. Sometimes … well, that’s beside the point, but I feel uneasy. Like something’s coming up from the earth to swallow us all.”

In any other setting, Jirou would never have given voice to such sentiments. Speaking to a sorcerer, however, erased those misgivings. Who knew what mysteries of the arcane Higuruma had already experienced?

The sorcerer in question unlaced his fingers, tracing them over the faded ink trees on the map, denoting the forest near the village.

“Some questions.”

“Pardon?”

“I need to ask some questions.”

“Oh … oh, of course! My apologies if I’ve not given enough – “

Higuruma cut him off, eyes steady, penetrating.

“When did these animal killings begin?”

“Six months ago … I think.”

“You are uncertain?”

“No, I – There were wolves. We found corpses of wolves. Before that. But obviously we didn’t – “

“You didn’t question when the natural predator turned up dead?”

Jirou shrugged helplessly.

“Sometimes bears come down from the mountain.”

“Hmm. And what kind of animals, besides the wolves, were killed?”

“Horses. Sheep. Cattle. Some chickens. Mainly the cows, though.”

“Who found the beasts dead?”

“Different people. I found a horse in a ditch once.”

“How did the horse appear to you?”

“Slaughtered.”

“I need more detail.”

Jirou shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Higuruma’s questions were coming thick and fast, and the elderly man was accustomed to preparing his thoughts before answering.

“Ah. Disembowelled. It’s … entrails had been removed.”

“And they were lying next to the animal?”

“Oh, no. We couldn’t find them anywhere.”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow, pausing slightly for the first time.

“Nothing?”

“No. It was like … the animal had been hollowed out. Like something had reached in and … scooped everything out.”

Abruptly, the sorcerer leaned back in his seat.

“These lights in the forest. Tell me more.”

“Oh, those are strange indeed. We’ve tried to find a pattern as to when they appear, but … they seem to come at odd times. It’s not firelight. Too bright. Almost white. Dancing. It’s definitely magery of some kind.”

“Above the trees?”

“Among them. Between them. Sometimes the trunks of the trees block the light, so we know that it’s moving.”

“And this … feeling you say you have?”

“Oh, that … “

Jirou gave a sheepish chuckle.

“I think with everything going on, I simply … You know. The imaginings of an old – “

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No.”

Higuruma’s abrupt manner took some getting accustomed to. He raised his quill, pointing it at the farmhand like he was preparing to throw it, to pin him and his problem down to a board for analysis.

“Sorcery isn’t about vague incantations and undetermined outcomes. Everything about sorcery is calculated, precise. It relies on universal laws that we haven’t even begun to comprehend, and so, it seems distant or even esoteric. We try to categorise the arcane, place them into neat little pockets to aid our understanding, but that will only take us so far. Your feelings, your dreams, are all likely symptoms of the same problems that plague your village. It’s a pattern we’ve seen many times.”

Jirou gulped heavily.

“We?”

“Our guild.”

Throughout the brief, intense questioning, Higuruma had never written anything down. Now, he dipped his quill, scraping carefully around the edges of the well, and jotted something down on a scrap of parchment. He folded the note and handed it over to Jirou.

“Give this to ijichi when you leave. Permission from the authorities pending, expect our guild members to arrive within three days.”

If Jirou of Setsana had stayed for a few minutes longer, he might have been party to the sudden descent of chaos into the calm that had once reigned over Higuruma’s study. A large tapestry hanging across the left wall shifted slightly, as though in a stray breeze. One of the greyhounds stitched into the rich fabric of the hunting scene moved, the thread of the embroidered eyes snapping subtly back and forth until its gaze faced ahead once again.

Higuruma sighed heavily.

“Do you really think you’re being subtle?”

The hound peered at him. It looked slightly nervous.

“Gojo, I know you’re listening.”

The hound’s goggling took a turn for the worse, the eyes now comically bulging from the tapestry.

“Is it really this hard for you to behave like an adult?”

The hound’s mouth opened wide and new embroidery emerged from its gaping jaws, spelling out the word “YES”.

“For the love of – “

Higuruma raised a finger, shadowy flame erupting across the tip, and the tapestry suddenly folded inwards, then disgorged three occupants, two of whom stumbled right into Higuruma’s desk, the papers on top shifting across the surface of the map he had been studying. Clicking his tongue, the sorcerer folded his arms.

Bright-eyed, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, Itadori Yuuji reached up and ruffled his pink hair.

“Good morning, Higuruma – “

“It was his idea.”

Straight to the point as always, Kugisaki Nobara showed not an ounce of shame, her finger pointing firmly in the direction of the tapestry’s third occupant, who had stepped out with stylish flair.

Gojo Satoru, Special Grade Sorcerer, gave a bow that included a flowery, if very irritating, flourish. He straightened and eyed Higuruma cheerfully over his shaded glasses, pale hair gleaming like mage-fire in the dim light of the study. As much as Gojo played into the role of fanciful and flamboyant genius, that undercurrent of monstrous power was always present, one that those close to him had learned to bear with. His apprentices, for some reason, always seemed immune to it.

“You know, I couldn’t help but overhear – “

He received a disbelieving snort in return.  

“Try another tack. I never know why you can’t just sit in on interviews instead of – “

Gojo wagged a finger.

“Oh, come on. I mean, look at me. How do you think a simple farmer would take to seeing someone like me staring at him while he tried to give testimony?”

As always, Gojo was attired as if he’d stepped right out of the pages of a racy bodice-ripper. His ruffled collar, unbuttoned fashionably low, high-waisted trousers and the long overcoat he wore over it all enhanced the roguishly handsome look only he was capable of pulling off without seeming horrendously pretentious.

Higuruma stared back, unimpressed, before pushing away the papers that had drifted over the map. Yuuji and Nobara crowded around his desk, eyes eager. He turned his attention to them.

“Assuming you two have heard Jirou’s case, what do you think the approach should be?”

Yuuji hummed thoughtfully.

“I think … maybe scout the area? Check out those woods. Look for traces of unknown sorcery.”

Nobara elbowed him aside, not to be outdone.

“And talk to the villagers. Look, I grew up in a village like this, and let me tell you, everyone’s just dying to let you know their neighbour’s business.”

Higuruma nodded.

“Good, but we’re missing something vital.”

Gojo’s hand shot into the air.

“Oooh, pick me, Magister!”

 “Come, you two. Think.”

Ignoring Gojo’s pleading look, Higuruma waited patiently. Yuuji’s face had taken on a serious cast, his eyes fixed on the map.

“Uhhh … what about the animals? There must be something about the way they’ve been killed … “

“Precisely. The fact that their entrails were removed tells us something.”

Nobara’s eyes narrowed.

“Some village soothsayers read entrails. To tell people’s fortunes and that kind of thing.”

“Except, in this case, no trace of the entrails was found. You’re certainly right about soothsayers, but they need fresh kills, and for the entrails to be present in the corpse of the animal.”

“So … “

“So you’re going to help with the investigation. With my permission, of course.”

Higuruma finally met Gojo’s gaze and shook his head in silent communication. Gojo gave a small smile in return.

“No need to tell me. You need me for that … other issue. So, who’s it going to be?”

“I’ve already sent a note out with Ijichi. He should be here - ”

A knock sounded on the study door, three sharp taps in quick succession. Yuuji glanced up at the clock and grinned.

“It’s ten o’ clock on the dot. That’s gotta be - ”

If Jirou of Setsana hadn’t hurried home, he might have also witnessed the arrival of the man who would lead the investigation at his village. Brisk, measured pace carrying him across the gravel of the courtyard, Nanami Kento arrived shortly before the stroke of ten.

Formerly a member of the merchant guild, Nanami was always properly attired in formal sorcerer’s robes, a plain, pristine, royal blue waistcoat, trousers and sensible leather walking boots beneath. A yellow patterned cravat formed a slight contrast to the sobriety of his appearance.

To ordinary folk, Nanami looked particularly unremarkable. Like Gojo and Higuruma, however, there was something about him that the trained eye wouldn’t miss; a martial air to his bearing, a certain predatory awareness in his cool glance, a grace in his long stride that spoke of great strength and agility.

Passing through the foyer, he greeted Ijichi, whose communication he had received a short while ago. At the door to Higuruma’s study, he paused, hearing the voices from within. Gojo’s dulcet tones were unmistakeable. Sighing, he checked his pocket watch.

One minute to the hour.

One more minute without Gojo.

He waited, enjoying the brief silence.

At the chime of the clock within the study, he knocked and entered.

“Nanamin!”

“Right on time.”

Nobara tugged at the blonde sorcerer’s sleeve impatiently.

“Come over here. They found some animals with their guts scooped out.”

 “Excuse me?”

Yuuji joined Nobara, lifting Nanami’s carry case out of his hand and ushering him towards the table.

“The new case that just came in!”

“We’re going together to investigate.”

“There’s a small village – “

“And they have these flashing lights in the forest – “

“And this old guy has a bad feeling – “

“And Higuruma doesn’t think it’s his arthritis or indigestion – “

“And he thinks bears come down from the mountain? You ever heard of anything like that?”

Raising his hands in long-suffering protest, Nanami finally gained some silence from the two apprentices. Gojo was lounging against Higuruma’s desk with a smile he wasn’t sure he liked.

“I’m out of this one, Nanami. Higuruma needs me elsewhere.”

Nodding Nanami turned his attention to the Magister who had been watching the scene humourlessly over steepled fingers.

“I assume you’ll brief me?”

“Of course. Give me two hours and I’ll have clearance from the USCRC.”

The Utilitarian Sorcery Centre for Regulation and Control was Higuruma’s old stomping ground, the legal wranglings that took place in its ancient auditoriums setting precedents for the dozens of new permutations of sorcery that came up every year. His exit from the same institution in disgrace, and his subsequent fall from grace in the public eye, was common knowledge at the guild.

There were many, however, who understood Higuruma’s decisions better than others, those from within the system who spoke on his behalf and facilitated his establishment in a fully private sense within the Jujutsu Guild Academy. He still maintained those contacts, allowing him full access to the legal records and accelerated permissions to conduct private investigations on behalf of the guild.

Nanami had never enquired as to the nature of Higuruma’s contacts. Nobody did.

Poring over the map on the table as the Magister pointed out the features of relevance, a crease began to form between Nanami’s brows.

“Animals without entrails … Hmm. That’s definitely cause for concern.”

Yuuji peered into his face curiously.

“What do you think it means, Nanamin?”

Shaking his head, Nanami adjusted the shaded glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“It’s too early for me to say. Speculation can be as dangerous as sprinting across a rickety bridge in cases like these. I can say that this probably involves the Matura aspect of sorcery, possibly some form of natural magic, or perhaps, something conceived to look that way.”

Gojo’s crystalline blue glance was also tracing with that characteristic gleam of sharp clarity over the map.

“I think, considering some of the other cases coming our way, that this would be a great opportunity to let the apprentices get their teeth in.”

He clapped his hands cheerfully while Yuuji and Nobara began to look worryingly excited. Gojo tended to have that effect on them.

“What do you say, kids? Tramping through the countryside, scraping cow dung crusts off your heels, breathing in the scent of fermented straw floors and making friends with fleas and other friendly vermin of all kinds.”

He let out a happy sigh.

“I’d love to go myself, but I’ll make this sacrifice for you, and only you, dearest Nanami.”

“How terribly kind of you,” came the dry rejoinder.

Turning to the apprentices, Nanami cocked an eyebrow.

“He does have a point, though. Go to Ieiri and assemble some evidence kits. Tell her to be on standby for receiving samples from us for analysis over the next few days. And then get yourselves prepared. You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir!”

Receiving two sharp salutes, the two over-enthusiastic youngsters scampered out of the study, their voices carrying back along the hallway.

When they were out of earshot, Gojo exchanged glances with Higuruma before reaching into his pocket and handing over a small vial to Nanami. Seeing the contents, the sorcerer met Gojo’s stare with a steady, measured glance.

“And what’s this in aid of?”

“Oh, just a little something. In case things get dangerous.”

“You think it’ll come to that?”

Higuruma stood, gathering his coat and heading for the door. “Take it, Nanami. I have a feeling that we’re going to need all the help we can get if the intelligence we’ve received so far is accurate.”

[shitpostingkats]

Wouldn’t it be really funny if Jaden had like The Most Messed Up Traumatizing Childhood but is completely unaware that what he went through isn’t normal? And every time he says something his friends take +1000 points of psychic damage. (It’s like that one meme of the guy in the fast food drive thru talking with the employee looking like they’ve witnessed The Horrors) For example:

Chazz, fed up with whatever dumb crap Jaden has said this time, not expecting a serious response: oh my god why are you like this, were you dropped on your head as a child or something?

Jaden, goes to retort, but then pauses, actually considering something, then half mumbles to himself: hmm you know that might explain the botched lobotomy actually…

Chazz & everyone else in the room: I’m sorry the what

Or alternatively:

Alexis during lunch with the crew hanging outside the Silfer dorms, concerned at how run-down they seem to be getting: Why don’t you move up at all? If you’re that attached to the red, at least see if you can just move into the Ra or Obelisk dorms, I’m pretty sure the Slifer dorms are an actual health risk at this point, the building looks close to collapsing…

Jaden, completely unbothered, eating a sandwich: I mean up until enrollment I was living in a cardboard box in some back alleyway, the Slifer dorms are paradise compared to that. Plus the other dorms are too fancy for me idk-

Everyone: You what.

Jaden, taking another bite of his sandwich, entirely oblivious the growing looks of horror that worsen with every word out of his mouth: I mean it wasn’t so bad, it was only for what? 3 years? The rats were actually pretty friendly if you gave them food scraps! Better than the giant possums at least.

Everyone: The what.

Or!:

Jesse, hanging out with Chazz and Jaden in Jaden’s room and going through decks: You have such a good relationship with Winged Kuriboh, I can tell he cares about you a lot, you must have been friends for a long time!

Jaden, casually sifting through his cards: Oh, no actually, I got him the day of the entrance exams. Actually I didn’t even know I could see duel spirits until I got to the academy. Or at least I think I couldn’t? I have vague recollections of something from way back when, but I try not to think back too far, otherwise the screaming gets in the way

Jesse, completely unexpecting the way he says it so nonchalantly: The,,, screaming?

Jaden: Yeah if I think to like,,, any time before I was 8? All I get is a bunch of static and screaming. Weird huh?

Chazz, half paying attention, once again joking and not expecting anything seriously: Screaming huh? What, you commit a murder or something?

Jaden, once again pausing before contemplating, unaware to the horror building the longer he stays silent, before finally responding: Huh. Y’know that might explain the blood that pops up too actually-

Chazz, now fully paying attention and regretting every life decision that has led him to this point, and is barely holding onto his sanity by a thread: *deep bone-weary sigh* was this before or after the botched lobotomy

Jesse, who is completely and utterly devoted to Jaden, but is unfortunately New and has not yet been exposed to his special brand of out-of-pocketness, and is now internally screaming: excuse me the what-

I’m realizing now I wrote a lot on this BUT I want to see your interpretation too sgshdjd This is just the funniest thing to me, I love it when a character is completely unaware of the psychological damage they unintentionally inflict on others it’s so funny hahashsjsjs (all of the scenarios are from before the Dark World arc do with that information what you will)

Being Jaden's friend is an occupational hazard.

[juanarc-thethird]

Dr. Arc

Dr. Jaune: *Looking at the camera* Hello, my name is Jaune Arc. I'm the Becon Academy Doctor and I hate my job. *He says with a big smile*

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

Nurse Penny: Doctor, Prof. Xiao long got hurt again.

Jaune: Ok, bring her inside.

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

Jaune: *At the camera* I have a good staff, Penny is attentive and loves her job. I also have a secretary, Miss Zedong, she's a bit shy but she's the best at her job.

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

May: *On the phone* Of course. Miss Xiaolong, you can come in now.

Yang: *Holding her broken arm* What?

May: You can come in now.

Yang: I can what?

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

Jaune: *To the camera* The only thing bad are my patients.

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

*Knock Knock*

Penny: *Opens the door for yang* Please come in, Prof. Xiao long.

Yang: Thank you. *To Jaune* What up Doc? How's it going?~

Jaune: Better than you, I see.

Yang: *Chuckles* Oh this broken arm? It's nothing compared to my broken heart. When are you going to accept a date with me?

Jaune: *Sighs*

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

Jaune: *To the camera* Yang likes to tease me. She always talks about going out on a date, or spending an afternoon together playing "Doctor", but I know she doesn't mean it. She just wants to annoy me.

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

Yang: *At the camera* I wanna fuck that man

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

Jaune: Ok, this is only going to hurt a little so hold on.

Yang: HA! I am a woman of steel. I don't feel pain!

Jaune: *Snap the bone into place*

Yang: OH SON OF A-! Damn that hurt.

Jaune: *Using his Aura to heal her* Your aura will help you heal fast, but you won't be able to fight for 3 days. Understood?

Yang: But Doc...

Jaune: *Serious* Understood?

Yang: Shit, you look so sexy when you act like that. Hey what if we-

Jaune: *Interrupts her* Excelentes news, we are done here. Penny, please escort patient to the entrance please.

Penny: Yes Doctor.

Yang: Come on Jaune, just one date.

Jaune: Goodbye Yang, have a nice day.

Yang: Tsk, I'll get you one day.

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

Jaune: *To the camera* And that is something that I do here. Normally more things happen, but today seems to be a quiet day.

Penny: Doctor, Nora hurt herself again using electricity.

Jaune: God damn it! I'm coming!

[zephyr-ro-emenki]

Jaune Arc is actually the most practical student amongst The Huntsman academies, solely because he actually attended normal public schools. Most of the Huntsman and Huntress students attended academies dedicated to training Huntsman candidates, so they were taught alot of things about fighting and things they would need to know as Huntsman, with minimal effort put into the other subjects except the bare minimum (basically teaching to the test for anything not related to killing monsters).

Meanwhile Jaune attended public school and got alot more practical lessons, general knowledge, and was taught the best practical study sessions and reasonings.

So, I imagine that the Major Huntsman academies like Beacon make their lessons harder for general Huntsman trained students. So, Ooblecks fast Speaking, Ports seemingly pointless boasting stories, Glynda's gladitorial fight pits, and most likely all the others, are designed to be harder for Huntsman students to understand.

Meanwhile, for Jaune, his only issue is a general lack of pre-existing knowledge on the base subjects and constantly being compared to the 3 best Beacon 1st year teams (regretfully, team CRDL is a well trained team and is probably the 3rd strongest team amongst 1st year students.)

Once he gets the base knowledge he needs he's using practical skills to better understand his teachers lessons. From recording Ooblecks lessons and playing them back later at 0.25× speed, he makes the lessons eligible to normal people's ears. When listening to ports lessons, he notes down the cliffnotes of his stories and is able to piece out all the important information that's been cleverly hidden inside them. He only still has issues in Glynda's combat class because he is being constantly compared to the best and brightest of his year, also being partnered with a 4 time tournament champion. If we look at his fighting during the entrance Exam, he's actually pretty skilled, but he's not an outstanding shining star like the rest of his team or team RWBY. If he fought any of the other students not part of the 3 strongest 1st year teams, I'd estimate there would be a chance he'd win more often, most likely 80% more than he was before. His lessons from Pyrrha were quickly rising his skill to slowly match the rest of his team.

Some would point to Team JNPR VS Team BRNZ as an example of Jaune not being all that strong, but they would also forget that the Vytal Festival is the best teams from all 4 Kingdoms gathered to fight, and Jaune is as strong as the average Huntsman, maybe slightly above average.

All this to say, that Jaune was alot more skilled than people give him credit for, even all these years later, and any adaptation of Jaune in fanfiction should remember that Jaune probably knows alot more about regular school than any of his friends and can casually bring up Home Ec and the terrible lunch food and almost all of them would be confused. dumbfounded even.

[helenrourke]

And we've finally reached the New York City Arc 🗽

This arc has always been a favorite of mine. Tsukushi after being chased after by Tsukasa for most of the story, is now the one chasing him. I think this arc really shows how much Tsukushi has grown since the beginning of the story. She was afraid to take risks because of how the F4 ruled Eitoku Academy. I don't think the Tsukushi from volume one would have the courage to travel to a foreign country, all in the name of love.

Tsukasa has also grown at this point too. While he is still hot-headed, the Tsukasa of the past wouldn't have sacrificed everything for his love of Tsukushi. In the early volumes sure, Tsukasa liked Tsukushi, but he really didn't know her, the way he knows her now.

This arc has been adapted several times. I know for Meteor Garden (2018) the cast filmed in London (I still need to watch that version). I have the K-Drama adaptation where they went to Macau, and I enjoyed that version a lot.  They didn’t do this arc in F4: Thailand but then again, they filmed the series during the pandemic, so international travel was difficult.  I like to believe they left that arc out because of that.

The J-Drama adaptation of Hana Yori Dango is my favorite, because they went all out and filmed in New York City.  I mean the opening scene when you see Tsukushi in Times Square, you knew it was going to be a good episode.

I'm sorry but this scene where she's trying to speak English is adorable and I love her for it.

Also, who doesn’t love Rui’s entrance in the live action adaptation.  It’s comical.  There is no way that would play out like that in real life.

Finally, we have this gem of a scene with dumbfounded Tsukasa. In which he realizes it is indeed his girlfriend who has shown up to New York after he ghosted her for several months.

This will probably not be my last post about this arc lol

[live-love-boruto]

Ep. 9 | Proof of Oneself

Rating: 7 / 25 | Skip

Plot: 1 / 5

Characterization: 3 / 5

Visuals: 1 / 5

Importance: 1 / 5

Entertainment: 1 / 5

I'm going to have a hard time saying anything about this one, it was super boring! The Byakugan plot line goes exactly where you think it would from last episode; and the Kagemasa fight was clunkily animated and choreographed, and pretty underwhelming.

The highlight of this episode was probably seeing that Boruto's family is close with the Hyuga, though that won't really come up much later. It's nice to see Naruto and Hiashi on good terms, even if I wish we'd gotten to see how that happened a bit more.

Sarada also got a little bit of screentime and a bit of a character beyond Boruto's catty nemesis, but her time was brief and underwhelming. She could have been traded out for just about anyone and very little would have changed in the story. It was probably just to call back the Fuma Shuriken plan from when Naruto and Sasuke did it in the Land of Waves Arc, and it was not worth it.

If you have to watch this, watch the Hanabi vs Boruto fight and then skip on everything else. Despite having a cool episode name, it was definitely not worth watching again.

[yuriisclumsy]

𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝐈𝐕 — 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚

𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝐈𝐕 (you are here) | 𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝐕

Sub-Serie: City Outskirts Art | Timeless Treasure Concept Art

Authors note: Hi, Lovelies! It's been a while since I uploaded something to the Arc series. But here it is, at last! I have other Arcs' I've been working on, so expect a few more updates in the following weeks! PS. I'll probably post a schedule once I finish the arcs and the next two chapters for the Story.

Entrance

–The main way to enter the Divine City is by first going through a system of permission only entry given and issued by the Permission of Entry Council. 

╰This Council is composed of members especially selected by her Grace.

–You have to apply to get permission to enter, with exceptions of Diplomat Permission and special Student Permission – also issued by the Council.

╰There are regulations as to who can come in, but that’ll the explored later.

–Once your permission has been approved, detailed instructions will be given to the entrance location. Even if the location of the entrance is already known to all, they still say it out of formality.

–The Main Entrance of the city is far away from the actual city contrary to common belief. Well, that is if you wish to enter by carriage or foot. Otherwise, an official boat comes around the ports of each nation every 2 weeks for transport. Hot-air balloons are also an option, though it is more complicated and expensive.

–Once inside, visitors will be given an Identification Document (ID) for recognition of Visitor Status.

–There are also guides inside the city especially for visitors. They also act like Field Trip Guides for students.

–The Hot-Air Balloon port is at a high altitude attached to the mountain the city is on. Those who chose this option will get a carriage and guide included, so it is a safe option when traveling with children.

Commerce District

–The Commerce District is the most visited place in the city. Its regulars consist of the citizens of the city and merchants, and the tourists that come in every two weeks.

–You can find all types of stores and restaurants in the district; from Sumerian cuisine to rare Liyue objects

╰Collectors usually visit Collection Actions hosted by some of the biggest treasure hunters (not to be confused for Treasure Hoarders) and adventurers out there.

Schools

–Schools… Pretty self-explanatory in my opinion. They are institutions that teach future generations. Nothing too important.

Colosseum

–The Colosseum. The second most visited place, and the most visited structure in the city. Mainly used for holding the Upholder Competition each year, the Colosseum is a place for holding big scale events. Such as, the academies introduction and orientation for first years, competitions, exams, and on rare occasions, concerts.

╰PS. For someone to get permission to hold a concert in the Colosseum, you’ll have to submit a request to the castle, and have it approved by none-other than her Grace.

Grand Library

–The Grand Library was founded by her Grace as an achievement for humanity. Achievements, published works, unpublished works, paintings, machinery, scripts, languages, everything is in here.

╰Students usually come to this library than any other because it has all they can ask for. But when outside, they will use any library they can find.

–There are a few restricted areas in the library, some having more importance than others. One in particular that no one has access to other than her Grace. No-one knows what is inside.

╰Some speculate that the answer to immortality is kept within its walls.

Castle

–The Castle is the residence of her Grace and high ranked officials. A saying about the castle says that whoever lives in the castle is automatically considered a royal. It’s been circulating for ages, many telling it to children to inspire them to achieve for the best in their fields so they can be chosen to live there.

╰Although this is fake information, those who live here are indeed treated like royals when out-and-about in the city.

–When talking to officials who live, you’d hear how they always get lost in the castle before getting the aid of Head Maid Zu or Head Butler Arias to guide them. To them, the castle is one large maze. Even General Tridalia gets lost after he takes naps in remote locations in the castle.

╰Because of the unique way the castle is structured, there is no one-way path to a place in the castle. This is why even some newer maids get lost, with even veteran butlers having difficulty when going to a new section they haven’t worked in.

Royal Garden

–The Royal Garden is her Grace's favorite place to enjoy tea when having done her work. The atmosphere is calming, with animals finding home within it.

╰Species from all over Teyvat visit.

–The garden has a lake, with rivers flowing down to the ocean.

╰All rivers in the city derive from here.

–The water in the rivers is safe for drinking.

╰People drink it when sick thinking there is healing properties in the water.

Table of Celestia

–The Table of Celestia used to be the meeting point for the gods, up until the Cataclysm, 500 years ago.

–It used to hold meetings between the devine and the mortal realm. A tree was planted there, a pledge between the two realms was formed: Mortals followed the Divines’ rule, and in turn, the Divine will protect them.

–Now, it stands as a reminder of the peaceful times we live in and those who lost their lives to achieve it.

╰It is a desolate place, not even animals come here. Her Grace softly watches from afar the table holding dear memories of time gone by.

…: ≧◉◡◉≦

???: Well, if it isn't our dear little one. It’s been a while, has it not?

…:  (◡‿◡✿) *Nod*

???: Well, what have you been up to lately?

???: Not doing chaos I hope.

…: (ㆆ_ㆆ)

???: What?

???: You youngsters are capable of anything!

???: How would I know if your intentions are always pure?

…: ( ≖.≖)

???: Alright, alright.

???: I won’t judge you anymore.

…: (゜-゜)?

???: Who am I?

???: …Isn't it a little too late to ask that question?

…: ಠ╭╮ಠ

???: You want my name…Hhmm…

???: I won’t give it to you.

…: (◑_◑)

…: ◉_◉???

???: Why?

???: Simple.

???: I like the feeling of suspense.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @udretlnea, @taurus-caeli. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for The Divine City: Arc. Back to The Divine City: Arc Master-List. Go to Story, a related series.

Back to Master-List

[c-jay-s-text-posts-only]

A Hairy Eulogy

Written with permission from @n6918

The next afternoon, Jaune was wandering around the Academy. He and Team RWBY had left the EverAfter the evening before and arrived just as the sun set.

When they were finally able to reach Shade, Jaune was amazed to see how packed it was. So many people from all the other kingdoms had come.

On one hand, many of the locals were struggling to be around those from Atlas, Vale, and Mistral - tensions between them and the Vecchians were rather high, especially after the war.

But on the other hand, he was glad so many people had gotten Ruby's message and taken it seriously; even Saphron and Terra came with Adrian.

He had gotten an earful from her since he hadn't told the full truth, but it warmed his heart to see his family again, and he promised to keep them out of harm's way.

As he wandered, he noticed the doors to one of the big rooms had been shut. He remembered seeing these ones open yesterday.

'Hello?' He wondered, 'What do we got over here?'

Jaune put his ear to the door, and heard what he could only describe as a wedding march.

'Can people get married at the academies?' He didn't know that until now.

Jaune pushed it open slightly, just enough to see inside. What he saw left him very perplexed.

It was dark inside, save for a spotlight aimed at a podium near the front of the room. Team RWBY were there, as well as Ren, Nora, Oscar, and Emerald. Weiss's sister, brother, and mother were with them too, and so was their butler.

Everyone faced away from the entrance, and so didn't see that Jaune had found them.

"Wha-" he wanted to ask.

Weiss stepped up to the podium, and everyone sat down.

"Dearly beloved." She began grandly, "My Friends. Family. And Ruby."

"Whu- HEY!" Ruby pouted.

Everyone laughed. Weiss hid a giggle behind her dainty hand.

"Oh, come on!" Ruby stamped the ground from her seat,

"Right, right, excuse me." Weiss recovered, "That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again- moving on!"

"Not funny, Bro." Ruby pushed her lips out.

"We are gathered here this afternoon," Continued Weiss, "Ahem, in the sight of the Gods . . . And the enhanced hearing of our fun-loving-four-eared-friend, Blake-"

"PFFT- shit!" Blake covered her mouth and turned away.

Yang threw her head back to laugh and fell off the bench.

"Ooh, look at me, aren't I being funny?" Weiss sounded amused,

"Get on it with it already!" Nora hollered,

"Okay-okay! Okay." Weiss cleared her throat, "We are gathered here today, on this, most dreadful occasion. To mourn the absolute loss of our Dear friend, Jaune Arc's beard."

Jaune accidentally banged his head against the door.

"The fuck?" He stumbled in and carefully shut the door behind him.

Somehow, no one had noticed. Yang's mouth fell open and her eyebrows lowered as she got off the floor.

"Whu- dude." She took her seat and her eyelids lowered too, "Is this seriously what you dragged us all here for?"

"Yes." Weiss didn't even hesitate,

"Oh- Weiss, honestly." Winter looked disappointed, "I was meant to have a meeting with the Ace-Ops this afternoon, I cleared my schedule for you."

"I- I think our little Snowflake has something important to say about this." Klein interjected kindly, his eyes turned from brown to yellow, "Go on, my dear. What about losing this Jaune's beard has you so upset?"

"Thank you Klein." Weiss smiled at him, "as I was saying-"

"Uh, hold-up!" Interrupted Ruby, "Weiss, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What do you mean?" Weiss raised an eyebrow,

"Well, like," Ruby tried to find the words, "Is this really something we need to cry about?"

"I still don't follow." Weiss shook her head,

"Dude, it's a frikken beard!" Yang found the words quite easily, "It's not like we need to have a ceremony for it!"

'. . . Thank you?' Jaune wasn't sure how to feel,

"Again, you seriously dragged us here to talk about that?" Yang put her hands on her hips,

"Well, how couldn't I?" Weiss threw her arms up, "I needed to talk to someone about this! Preferably a group of people. I mean, it's a completely, criminally rotten shame he doesn't have it anymore!"

"And that wolf tail too." Blake purred quietly, wiping her nose with a loud sniff,

"You see?" Weiss pointed to her teammate, "She understands!"

"Wait-a-moment, now I'm confused." Whitely raised his hand, "Were you friends with some one named Jaune, or were you friends with his beard?"

"Eughhh . . ." Winter shivered in her seat, "Whitley, please. Don't talk like that."

"Why not?" Whitely was genuinely puzzled,

"The picture it paints isn't one I'm interested in seeing." Winter didn't miss a beat,

"I beg your pardon?" Whitely still didn't understand, "I just want to know who we're holding this funeral for . . . And if I should feel sorry for, um, whomever we're talking about."

"Why is that important?" Winter blushed and wrinkled her nose,

"Well, I'd feel quite offended if someone mourned something so superficial about me." Whitely reasoned, "It'd be like if we held a ceremony for your hair before you dyed it white."

"You dye your hair?" Nora leaned over to see.

Winter glared at her little brother.

'No one was supposed to know.' She thought.

"I'd like to know whether we should do this for your father." Remarked Willow, "I think I prefer the idea of celebrating his mustache rather than the man himself."

The two considered.

"It is what he deserves at the moment." Whitely conceded,

"I like the sound of that as well, Mother." Winter nodded, then she turned back to the podium, "By the way, which one is Jaune again?"

Jaune's stared and gaped. He couldn't tell if Winter was being sarcastic or if she really didn't know, but regardless, he didn't like that at all.

'I'm so glad the first time I broke you a twenty was also the last time I ever broke you a twenty.' He thought grumpily, 'I worked with you for six months, and you don't even know my name? You literally ditched me in the Central Location like three days ago!'

Suddenly.

"BARK-BARK-WOOF-WOOF-LOOK-AT-HIM!" Nora did her best impression of an excited chihuahua, "HE'S SO HANDSOME AND COOL HERE!!

By now, Weiss had brought up a projected image of The Rusted Knight's true face. Jaune slapped his thigh, he was shocked but mostly confused.

'Who took that and when?!' He wanted to shout.

The picture Weiss used wasn't very flattering. It showed a very frantic Jaune, with his hand on Juniper's snout. His hair looked good, and it captured his beard nicely, but he had been a total mess there.

The look in his eyes did nothing to help.

That this was even happening made no sense.

Where was team SSSN when you needed time to bond with the bros over things we all understood?

"Thanks to Ruby," Weiss was still oblivious to Jaune being there, "the Visage has permanently been made immortal. And you have my eternal gratitude."

All eyes, except for Blake, turned to Ruby, who didn't look the least bit ashamed.

"My beastly bestie glowed up so good!" Ruby insisted, "Everyone deserves to know it! Look at him! LOOK AT HOW GOOD HE LOOKS!"

Blake hadn't taken her eyes off the picture; she didn't need a second telling. She was practically drooling, but interestingly, Yang wasn't very upset about that.

"Well said, I concur." Weiss nodded.

And the others murmured their agreement.

"What's he putting his hand on there?" Emerald tilted her head, "Is that a deer or like an elk, or something?"

"Oh, it's so cute." Oscar smiled,

"Look at those beautiful eyes!" Added Willow,

"That was Juniper." Explained Weiss, "The Rusted Knight's faithful jackalope."

"I WANNA RIDE THE BUNNY!" Nora shouted suddenly,

"Phrasing . . ." Ren sighed and clapped his forehead,

"As far as this creature is concerned," Put-in Winter, "head-pats and ear-scritchies are of the highest order."

"Wait, the who?" Whitely stuck his pinky in his ear and wiggled it out with a pop, "I can't have heard that right. Who's jacks-a-lot did you say-?"

"You heard me correctly, Whitely." Said Weiss, "Juniper is a jackalope, and she belonged to the Rusted Knight."

She smirked broadly.

"Whose hand is on her snout in the picture." She added.

"Wait, what?" Ren perked up,

"Our friend Jaune is, in fact," Weiss said proudly, "The Rusted Knight from the beloved children's story: The Girl Who Fell Through The World."

Everyone but Team RWBY reacted.

"No . . ." Emerald gaped, "You're lying."

"But-!" Winter looked like she might lose her mind, "But the Rusted Knight was an older man! I thought you said this Jaune was a friend of yours from Beacon?!"

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!!" Nora was thrilled, her eyes sparkled like polished gemstones, "I KNEW I HAD A REASON FOR CALLING HIM FEARLESS LEADER!! AND EVERYBODY DOUBTED ME!"

"But how?" Ren was more impressed, "That story was written almost two hundred years ago."

"Wait, that story was real?" Weiss knew she had Oscar's and Ozpin's full attention now,

"Indeed," She said, "The Girl Who Fell Through The World is, as it turns out, a true story. But certain events were either written out or altered to tell a much better one for children."

The others all wanted to know more, but Weiss quickly hushed them.

"As I'm sure this picture clearly shows," She said grandly, "Jaune's beard truly was a beautiful thing. The edges were a bit crooked, and the corners were somewhat unkempt, but it was thick~ and full~."

Jaune furrowed his brow.

'Am I hearing this right?' He was sure he couldn't be.

"The strands of grey mixed in with his blonde hair," Weiss seemed lost in her own little world now, "like veins of silver lost amid a field of gold, forever twirled and twined like clouds in the early morning sky."

Still looking at the picture, the others appraised his look, like critics at an unveiling. Although, none of them could remember a time when the sky appeared gold.

"And lest I dare myself to neglect," Weiss added quickly, "the way it shaped his~ beautiful face~."

Again, the others collectively agreed.

'Wait a sec, my beautiful face?' Jaune couldn't believe it, '. . . This woman is on drugs.'

"To summarize for those of you who are lost in my explanation, because I know that's possible now." Weiss paused impressively, "Jaune's beard was a hot, sexy thing, and it deserved its own article and three-page-spread in a Reader's Wives magazine."

"Why do you know what those are?" Ren was smirking.

"By the Gods . . ." But Weiss hadn't noticed, "Just looking at it had me weak in the knees and positively dripping~! I'm so sure that if I'd taken my panties off and gagged Yang with them, I could've shut her up for once."

"Ew." Ruby grimaced.

"PFFFFFT!" Blake palmed her face and tried not to laugh,

"Dude, I dare you to try that." Yang didn't think it was funny, "I dare ya, I just dare ya!"

Whitely had clamped his hands over his ears.

"I DON'T NEED TO HEAR MY SISTER TALKING LIKE THIS!" He nearly shouted.

Winter and Willow started weeping. Though for very different reasons.

"I can't believe my sister would speak in such a manner!" She gasped and hiccupped, "It's- it's . . . It's undignified! She used to be so precious!!"

"My darling girl is growing up!" Willow dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, "I'm so proud of you my dear!"

Klein just stared blankly and his eyes turned pink. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. And when he decided to do anything, he promptly fainted.

Whitely caught him just in time, Ren and Oscar gave him a hand too, and they laid Klein down on a free bench.

"In closing," Weiss finished, putting the picture away, "I wish to say this. Fare thee well, oh glorious beard and tail! You shall be sorely missed-"

The spotlight went out, and darkness filled the room.

"Agh!" Shrieked Ruby, "I'm blind!"

Winter and Ren readied their weapons.

"Who's there?!" Demanded Weiss, "How dare you interrupt-"

"Okay, I've heard just about enough." Jaune's voice boomed from the back of the room.

The main lights turned back on.

Weiss saw Jaune and screamed for a second before calming down.

"Oh, hi Jaune!" She tried, desperate to save face, "I- um . . . How are you doing?"

"Well enough to know that I could have a three-page-spread in Dazzle." Jaune smirked.

The colour drained from Weiss's face, which Yang, Blake, and Ruby thought looked hilarious. They didn't think her skin could get any lighter.

Dazzle was a popular Health and fitness magazine, and it often showcased some of the best, most physically attractive people on Remnant.

Yang mentioned once that Weiss sometimes read them, but only when she needed . . . Inspiration.

"Oh." Weiss anxiously bit her lip, "Um, I see . . . Uhm . . . Wh- we- huhhh . . "

She took a deep breath and bit the bullet.

"How much of that . . ." She asked, "how much of that did you hear?"

Jaune was still smirking.

"I came in at around the 'Dearly beloved' bit." He answered.

Weiss's pupils dilated.

"Ah- . . . Ha . . ." Was all she could say.

Jaune's smirk became a smile.

"I'm not upset, just so you know." He told her.

"Ohhhh . . ." Weiss buried her face in her hands, "Gods, I've made such a fool of myself . . ."

"If nothing else, I just think it's funny." Jaune crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't know I affected you like that."

"I thought you said you didn't think you had an affect at all!" Called Nora,

"I do now, apparently!" Jaune called back,

"Please stopppp." Weiss begged, raising her head, "Look, I'm sorry. I mean it, I am-!"

"Hey."

Jaune put his thumb on her chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eye. Weiss stopped at once.

"I forgive you." He said simply.

And for the third time since they'd met up again, Jaune have her a hug. Weiss's strength returned, and she threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly.

Everyone cooed as they watched.

"But you know," He reminded her, " I could always just grow my beard out again-"

Weiss jerked back in his arms.

"YES!" She didn't even hesitate and blushed when she realised what she'd done, "Uh- ahem! Please. Yes. Please. Please do."

Jaune wheezed and laughed.

“YOOOOOOOOOO-!!” Ruby, Yang, and Emerald laughed too, none of them could believe their ears.

"Okay, okay." Jaune recovered, silencing the crowd, "I'll grow my beard out again."

"EEEEEEEEEEE!" Weiss balled her hands into fists and jittered excitedly on the spot.

Blake was excited, too, and was bouncing in her seat with glee. Once again, Yang, surprisingly, didn't seem to mind. She just smiled.

"But if we want to do this right . . ." Now Jaune bit his lip, "I gotta ask you something."

He dropped down on one knee and took Weiss's hand in his.

Everyone gasped.

Was this happening?

"Weiss Seraphim Winona Schnee." Jaune proposed, "Will you do me the honor . . . of signing a prenup with me?"

The mood died at once. Strangely, Ren was the only one doing his very best not to laugh out loud.

"What?!" All the girls except for Weiss shouted,

"Wh-. Ah- eh- m, what." Weiss fumbled,

"There's always a catch." Winter sighed, shaking her head, "And Seraphim is my middle name!"

"Lousy blood-sucker." Muttered Willow,

"I'm surprised you know what that is." Realised Ruby.

For those who don't know, a prenup, or prenuptial is an agreement made between two people before marriage. It establishes either the husband's or wife's rights to property and support in the event of divorce or death.

Somehow, it rubbed the girls the wrong way, knowing Jaune would want one. Ruby, and Yang especially. They both knew there was no escaping death; they had lost their mother after all.

What they didn't like was the idea of planning for a separation.

Something about that felt . . . Underhanded.

"Listen, Momma raised a smart boy." Jaune liked to pretend he was, "If we really wanna do this, then I think we both deserve a little security. Don't you think?"

Now, Weiss was a practical woman, and she agreed that security was important. She pursed her lips together.

"Ahhhhugh fine," she sighed reluctantly, then thought carefully and clicked her tongue, "how about . . . Ten-thousand lien a month for you to stay by my side, that fair?"

"Well, I was thinking of- you whaaAATT??" Jaune stared at her in utter disbelief,

"What?" Weiss was surprised,

"You- you're kidding me, right?" Jaune recovered with a shake of his head, "ten-thousand?"

"What? What's wrong with that??" Weiss was very confused, "Is it not enough-"

"Weiss, are you trying to buy me or marry me?" He quickly stopped her,

"Ah-" Weiss paused,

"Ah-" Ren, Blake, and Yang paused,

"Ah-" Willow, Winter, and Whitley inhaled sharply through their teeth,

"Ooh . . ." Ruby winced, "Yeahhhh, you- you wouldn't have to pay him to do that . . ."

Weiss felt very ashamed of herself. She must have sounded a lot like her father just then. Throughout her entire speech, in fact.

Jaune's mouth morphed into a teasing smile and Weiss saw it.

"But-" She tried, "But you said-"

"I was joking," Jaune soothed her, "I don't really want a prenup. Are you THAT serious?"

By now, Weiss's face had turned incredibly pink. Any pinker, and she might pass out.

Yang leaned over to Blake.

"It's weird seeing him tease people like this." She whispered.

"Mm-hm." Blake agreed.

"Well . . ." Weiss tried again, "I . . . We've both done a lot of growing since we met at Beacon."

"Well, yeah . . ." Jaune nodded, sheepish.

"And . . . I can see now, with the benefit of foresight . . . And . . . hindsight, I suppose . . ." Weiss admitted, "that I'd be quite happy to share a future with you."

"Foresight and hindsight?" Jaune cocked an eyebrow again.

Weiss was about to speak again, but her thoughts were cut short, however, as a loud voice broke through the building tension.

"Oh, NOW you like him." Nora wasn't impressed.

Weiss jumped.

"Well?" Nora leaned in expectantly, pinching her fingers together and shaking her hand, "Speak-a da Basic! Do you like Jaune-Jaune for Jaune-Jaune, or because you know how sexy he's gonna be when he's your mom's age?"

"A-And- and what if I do?" She tried not to look embarrassed, "I'm grown up enough to admit when I'm wrong. Or- when I have been."

"Ah- excuse me," Willow raised her hand, "I'm not nearly that old."

No one argued that.

Nora put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"Listen, Weissy, if you didn't like his goofball-hero era, then you don't deserve him as a full-blown DILF." She proclaimed, as if it were ancient wisdom, "I don't care if you don't think you're marrying him for the beard or not, ya gots ta earn the rights to it."

"Nora . . ." Jaune couldn't be angry,

"Look, I'mma be honest," Nora said, turning to him, "You know I've always thought you were hot, but if the chips were down and we didn't have Ren, I'd've totally gone out with you."

Everyone stared at Ren, who nodded.

"It was mutual." He said plainly,

". . . Seriously?" Jaune was touched,

"With or without the beard." Nora smiled, "You're still our Jaune."

Behind everyone, Oscar was just confused.

"Wait-wait-wait, I still don't get it." He scratched his head, "What does the beard have to do with it?"

He came from a certain part of Mistral where beards were considered hard on the eyes, especially if they weren't trimmed properly.

Emerald gave him a pitying look and patted his cheek like an over-concerned aunt.

"Eh, I'll tell you about it when you're older, sweetie." She promised.

Oscar blushed. He wasn't sure how to feel about being called 'sweetie' by Emerald of all people.

Jaune, meanwhile, was blushing too and had looked away.

"Daaaaammnn." He fidgeted, "You got me twirlin' my hair and-"

Jaune reached up, and remembered.

"Oh yeah . . ." He wrinkled his forehead, "The haircut."

Everyone laughed again, even Jaune. Looking out at the sea of smiling faces, from friends both old and new, he felt happy for the first time in years.

It was great to be back to his old self again.

[arc-misadventures]

The VTuber

The, ‘Errantry Paladin.’

This was the adopted name of the online persona belonging to a man named, Jaune Arc, and he was a, VTuber. His persona was of a character from the highly popular fictional universe adeptly called, ‘The World of Remnant.’

‘The World of Remnant’ was a famous fantasy series than went from a novel written by the famous author, Ozma Wizradem, to an entire book series that sadly was never finished due to his untimely death due to the flu. But, his legacy lived on through spin off novels written by his children, and future authors, comic book writers, RPG creators, to video game designers, and full length feature film directors, and tv series producers of various makes. Peoples love for, ‘The World of Remnant has lasted for decades, and the, VTuber’s embracement were just the latest avatars to this wondrous world.

Through the vast depths of, ‘The World of Remnant’ their were dozens of, VTuber’s who inhabited the world of Remnant. These VTuber’s, or ‘Hunters’ as they called themselves to align along with the in universe lore. Each exploring the world in their own unique way.

Each, Hunter belonged to an agency often referred to as a, ‘Huntsmen Academy.’ The Academy’s each belonged to one of the four nation states of, Remnant. There was the academy of, Vale: Beacon Academy. The academy of, Vacuo, Shade Academy. The academy of, Atlas, and Mantle: Atlas Academy. And, lastly the academy of, Mistral: Haven Academy.

The Academies/Agencies each served a purpose of supporting, and aiding the various Hunters/Vtubers in their collective groups, by monitoring, and supporting the actions of each individual. Helping in collaborations, or in producing events, music videos, and so forth. It was a prestigious honour to gain entrance into one of these four academies/agencies to help boost themselves up, and really create a name for themselves. However, one didn’t need to join on of the academies to create a name for oneself.

For there was a, ‘Fifth Academy.’

In the lore of, ‘World of Remnant’ their was a secret organization know as the, ‘Grimm Cabal.’ A organization that sought to sow discord, and chaos throughout the kingdoms, for the their quest to fo fill their desires to destroy the world itself.

This is all fictional of course. In the real world, ‘The Grimm Cabal’ is just the name of another, VTuber agency, that was just like the rest of them.

All these, Hunters/Vtubers have their team, and their Academies, or friends of other Academies, and Teams they like do be around. Each sharing in the joys, and pains as they went about their days. Laughing, loving, crying, and hating within the moments they each individually, or collectively come across.

For all, but one that is…

For the, ‘Errantry Paladin,’ ‘The Broken Paladin,’ or simply, ‘Errant,’ was the outsider. For he was part of no, Academy, nor secret, Cabal. He simply stood alone, and went where he wanted, and did what he wanted to do. He did occasionally joined members from any group for a short while, but he never stayed for long.

Why you may ask? For many have asked, but the answer is always the same: ‘I just prefer not to.’

A answer that answers nothing, but asks everything.

And yet, while he may stand alone, his channel was among the largest their was. Thousands of people tuned in to watch his live streams; Some people came to watch him, and the games he played. Others came to listen to him, and what many called, the ‘soothing tone of voice’ he carried. Others because it was a relaxing to watch him in the background while they carried on with the various day-to-day activities during their lives.

And, then there were the, ‘Fair Maidens.’ A self proclaimed group, of mostly woman, who flocked towards him, and throw themselves upon him in a quest to obtain his affection.

Or, to simplify: The female equivalent of, ‘Simps.’

There are many things people came to see, and experience when watching the escapades of the, ‘Errantry Paladin.’ Things his viewers, and fellow, VTubers watched with baited breath, overflowing excitement, and anticipation.

And, the, ‘Errantry Paladin,’ Jaune Arc was the one who was always the most excited to see what would come next.

~~~

So… What if, Jaune Arc was a, VTuber? Sounds interesting, no?

So, lets take a little break from everything else; I’m grinding my gears on anything else I’m trying to write.

So. Feel free to ask questions to get the ball rolling. But, I want to do stories involving the other characters of, RWBY being, VTubers as well. So in order to do that, I need your help.

I am absolutely shit at naming anything! RedReaper as, Ruby’s, VTuber name is pretty shit. And, I need these people to have some cool nicknames for their, VTuber personas. So, this is where you guys come into play!

You guys give me a nickname, or two for a character, and I’ll collect them, and put them into a pole, and let you decide which name is best. Okay?

Great, lets have some fun then!

[gx-gameon]

About Crowler, as much as I would like Jaden to tell him eventually on his own terms (with Chazz and Jesse support) It's funny if he found out Jaden identity as Prince of Duels when he went to get Seto approval for King of Colloseum for Hassleberry and subsequent graduating seniors

I haven’t decided how Crowler is going to find out yet.

I know the kids are going to learn Jaden’s identity as the Prince of Duels during the tournament arc.

While him finding out during Hasselberry’s senior 3rd year could be fun.

I think Crowler will learn during the ‘day of wrecking.’ When the Kaiba bros come to fire people.

The whole staff is freaking out. Thee Seto Kaiba is coming to the school with his husband Yugi Muto, his brother Mokuba Kaiba, his brother-in-law Atem Muto, as well as some high level employees. The staff knows something big is about to happen but they don’t know what.

Crowler is walking towards the meeting wrangling his hands in nervousness. This is so bad. This was a horrible year. They lost the school to a different dimension. Then a group of students ran a rescue mission to another dimension. One that the Kaiba family had been dragged into (he doesn’t know why they went yet) then all the events of season 4. Not to mention the evil cult last year, and the shadow riders the year before.

Crowler has been afraid that they would all be fired for years. And now the time has come he can feel it. He’s walking towards his death.

When suddenly a hand shot out and pulled him into a side room. He shrieked and turned to see one Joey Wheeler. What is he doing here? Well there was a group of master duelists in the island.

“Hey Crowler.” They had met in the dark world. “A buddy of mine is looking for you.” And Crowler swallows hard because Joey Wheeler has a lot of ‘buddies’ buddies who have a lot of power over his job.

Joey leads him to a private meeting room and motions for him to go in and then step in front of the door to make sure no one else went in.

Crowler is expecting Yugi or Atem Muto. Not a nervous looking Jaden Yuki. “Jaden? What are you doing here?” He’s happy to see his student again but also so confused. And then worried because trouble follows Jaden like a moth to a flame. What if something else had happened and Jaden was trying to save the world again? Did he need help?

“Hey Dr. Crowler. I was hoping to talk to you about something.” And Jaden is obviously nervous and he’s motioned for both of them to sit down. Crowler has a very important meeting with Seto Kaiba that he’s going to be late to because of this but one of his favorite students is back and looking more like a scared child than he’s ever seen him. The Kaiba’s can wait. Crowler’s probably getting fired anyways. He can spend his last moments as a teacher helping one of his students.

“Of course Jaden. What is it?”

“Um well…. I kinda lied on my entrance paperwork.” Crowlers confused on why that would matter now. If he had known that before he could have Jaden thrown out of school but Jaden has already graduated. They might that his diploma away but why would it matter when Jaden’s saved the school more times then crowler probably knows of. “See my last name isn’t Yuki anymore. It’s Muto.”

Crowler sits there staring at Jaden for a long moment. “Dr. Crowler?” Jaden asks worriedly. He had expected a bigger reaction. Crowler faints and falls out of his chair. “Yep there it is.” Jaden says as he walks over to make sure his teacher is alright, while texting his Oto-san that he had told Crowler and they would be late to the meeting.

Crowler misses the ‘day of wrecking meeting and wakes up to find the whole Muto family around. Jaden, his dads, and uncles and aunts. There is no denying what Jaden said when he’s literally talking to Yugi and calling him dad. Crowler wants to cry. He’s so fired.

He’s not. He’s got a promotion but also way stricter rules for the academy to follow.