#THEY ARE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS. FOR THE MOST PART.

[thoughtscout]

I agree that I am indeed concerned about skepticism surrounding the nature of someone else's sex, on the grounds that natural variations in biology can create factors that might make a woman appear more "masculine" in the eyes of society - and these traits are greatly stigmatized for the women who have them. height, greater amounts of body hair, breadth and muscle mass are all things that are targeted as being "unattractive" and "un-womanly" on account of them being stereotypically "un-feminine".

but isn't it interesting how the trans movement feels the need to constantly hide behind womens' natural biological variance, or even just gender nonconforming women, as if their existence only exists to protect the identities of males who identify as women? I've noticed that these days, people rarely seem interested in defending the existence of body-variant and GNC women, unless it's to prop up the fact that people who were born male are inevitably going to display some identifiably "masculine" bodily traits, even post-transition. we've hardly even worked on destigmatizing the existence of these "un-feminine" women, who are still widely looked down upon by most of society, and yet they are being used as a somehow "positive" voice for the trans community. why is that?

furthermore, isn't it also misogyny to imagine that there is a list of things a male can do to their body in order to make it irrefutably a "woman"'s body? things like growing long hair, wearing makeup, shaving body hair, taking estrogen to attempt to feminize features and develop larger breasts - all of these are marketed by the trans community as forms of "gender-affirming care." how exactly do these things "affirm" a sense of woman-hood, if a woman could just as well have short hair, wear no makeup, never shave, and have a "masculine" appearing body with a small chest?

I think something tremendously important to keep in mind is that you should absolutely be hearing alarm bells in your head if women (especially feminists) are being accused of harbouring and exercising somehow more misogyny than their trans movement counterparts. it's classic victim-blaming, a political silencing strategy that has been used since the first wave.

hence, I care little for 'transvestigators' who are men or position themselves on the conservative end of the political spectrum. their opinions don't greatly concern me. if I saw a woman questioning someone's unclear sex from a place of self-interest and/or a feminist perspective on the other hand, I would naturally want to advise her some amount of caution to prevent from jumping to conclusion. however, I think it does a great and frankly insulting deal of disservice to our assumptions of womens' intelligence to imply that she would be completely incapable of identifying someone else's sex based on visual cues.

it is honestly a little bit frightful that one of the default defensive positions trans activists tend to take is along the lines of "well, you can never really know what sex that person is," as if we're trying to just... essentially gaslight women into not being able to believe their own eyes, and what their own senses & knowledge are telling them. interpreting someone's sex based on visual, physical clues is completely natural, and is a normal and intentional part of human psychology. if a woman is in a vulnerable situation, or simply wants to set a boundary that keeps her within the presence of her own sex, she is entitled to do that.

the fact that there isn't a 100%, 10 times out of 10 reliable way to identify every single person's sex, doesn't mean that women shouldn't be allowed to know the sex of a person when it's important to her, or that sex is a completely neutral factor of someone's body that should be treated as completely irrelevant in every single setting and situation. maybe there are places in society where it should be more neutral, but certainly not everywhere, and we're a long way off from things being good, safe and equal enough where someone's sex doesn't matter whatsoever.

It’s wild to me to see transvestigator conspiracy theories online that could be so easily explained by natural human variation. That woman has a deep voice? Yeah, sometimes they do. A woman has broad shoulders?? Maybe she plays rugby or hits the gym a fuckton. There’s a “bulge” in her tight pants?? Maybe her vulva is just fat. All the “markers” of trans woman that transvestigators use to harass any woman aren’t even things unique to trans women.

[harmonysanreads]

Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

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

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

i. Panorama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis 

Little Veri.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don't really understand but alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iv. Tachisme

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

v. Sotto in su

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi. Trompe l'oeil

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Veritas… Ratio?”

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

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

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

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

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

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

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

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A distant tug held him back.

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

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

—

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

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

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

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That sobers him.

“Your…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vii. Sfumato

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idiocy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ignorance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

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

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

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

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

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

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

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

Foolishness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

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

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

Thank you so much for reading!

TAGLIST : @abyssmal-skies @danijaci @birdloverr @teabutmakeitazure @cherriiirose @bleh09 @scurfi @justcallmemidnight @mochinon-yah @feral-ish @lavandulawrites @persicipen @stickyspeckledlight

[star2fishmeg]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | (comfort angst, fluff) | all it took was a terrible headache for y/n to break and really tell Luke what was wrong, and he provides the best remedy Authors Note | please accept this blurb based on a dream caused by a criminal headache I had while I get through celly blurbs and my inbox🥺

The headache that’d haunted her all day only pounded worse, pain relief only doing so much to ease the aching. Luke felt useless, there was only so much he could do and taking the pain away was not one of them. All he could do was gently caress her thigh hooked over his legs and hold her to his chest, arm wound around her waist and providing a kiss on her forehead every now and then. 

Her fingers traced feathery patterns over his skin, changing between his chest and following the ridges of his abs down to his v-line, feeling the heat that radiated off his body and embracing hers. They lay in silence, listening to breathing fall into sync and the video quietly playing from Luke’s phone and her brain worked overtime, the cogs turning and falling into the deepest pits of the human conscience, comments she’d read and heard emerging from her memory. The gossip pages, the media, other girlfriends and wives and maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn’t right for him; not mature enough, not established enough, not flexible enough and not pretty enough. 

Wetness seeped onto his bare skin, and he closed his phone, placing it onto the sheets before cupping her cheek, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, head just hurts.” She slid her hand over his stomach, cuddling into him but his fingers took her jaw, tilting her head up to face him. Worry spread across his face, eyes widening softly, eyebrows pulling together slightly.

“Y/n…” he said concerned, “talk to me, what’s it you always tell me? We’re a team?”

She paused and sighed, “Jus’...sometimes the people are right, I don’t deserve you. You’re this big-time, hotshot hockey player and I have nothing to my name, jus’ some chick.”

His grip around her tightened and he let her face go, slowly pulling her on top of his body completely, with consideration to the pounding in her head. Luke never liked the media and knew it came with his career, but when it impacted the people he loved the most, then he had a personal problem with it. His jaw tensed when more tears spilt onto his chest silently.

“Oh, angel,” Luke’s hand settled on the back of her head tenderly, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face while his arm secured around her middle, “who said that? You know that’s not true-” “-but it just is, Lu. Not a thriving model, not a career woman, just y/n who still relies on her parents half the time. Getting a part-time job has been tragic and while you’re working your ass off out there, I’m just sitting around.” She sobbed, Luke’s stomach twisting and he kissed her head. 

He’d never been confident in sharing how he felt, never being able to find the right words but with so much adrenaline and heartache running through his system, they seemed to fall off his tongue with a rawness to them. 

“But you’re not just ‘some chick’. That’s why I love you. You’re y/n. You’re a student who’s graduating soon, in a field she enjoys and you’re literally only twenty. Just because you aren’t living a life someone else is, doesn’t make you any less of a person. I don’t care that you’re not a public figure or whatever. Actually, I like that you aren’t and wish we went to college together because that would’ve been cool, so many parties to make out at. My point is that you bring normality, and I don’t care if you have a job or not, I’m always gonna support you in everything because I love you.” 

Y/n’s lip quivered, heart swelling as the sweet confession soaked into her ears. Typical Luke, even when he didn’t realise it, he always knew what to say. She pushed herself up onto her forearms, palms flat on his chest and his hands followed the curve of her spine up to her shoulder blades and down to her ass, soothingly with a small, comforting smile. 

He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe one of her eyes before she melted into his palm, “Thank you, I love you so much.”

She leant in, pressing a long and slow kiss to his lips, moaning when he groped her ass and giggling. He didn’t mind taking that extra breath if it meant he could listen to her giggle and light up again. Luke slid his hand to the back of her neck, goosebumps running along her skin, and he pulled her into another adoring kiss. A kiss worth a thousand more words, with warmth, a deep kiss with his mouth opening to invite her tongue to meet his and lick into her mouth. She was just y/n and Luke wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[zarvasace]

Okay okay that shatterproof modern au is so much fun I'm gonna mark down what everyone does here because I didn't want to let the authors notes get too long and I couldn't include every detail in the fic itself—

Time and Malon run Lon Lon Ranch, which is mostly a cattle ranch with some horses. They're working on getting everything set up to do some fostering (for humans, to be clear) in the future. The ranch is a successful business and exports mostly milk products to local stores, though they also have an orchard and do apples and pumpkins in the fall! Lullaby is a local politician, think state-level congress.

Hyrule lives on the ranch while going to school to become a physician. He's not related to them, but he is related to Malon's cousin's friend or something like that. He isn't allowed to help with the dishes due to Incidents in the past. He likes taking walks around the ranch and talking to the cows while he studies. He spends a lot of time with Legend, whose family is actually sponsoring Hyrule in school. Dawn is in a lot of his classes, and Aurora is her sister in a business program. The three or four of them hang out at the university a lot.

Wild also lives on the ranch, not currently going to school. He works there, and also does a lot of volunteering at the local food bank. He's learned to cook a lot of authentic food from all around the world from rubbing shoulders with people there. He doesn't talk a lot about his past, but Time and Malon know that Wild's parents sucked and that he's pretty much no-contact with them. He's rebuilding his savings after draining it all (plus more) on medical bills for his heart condition. He's pretty happy where he is, and looks forward to the day when Time and Malon get a foster kid or two. Flora's a childhood friend, doing a second PhD of her own right now.

Twilight works at the ranch with the animals, and takes a shift at a vet office every so often. He helps Hyrule study, since he finished out his degree in veterinary science a while ago. He's torn between getting a more serious veterinary job, going into medical research, and staying at the ranch full-time. He's accidentally made some really good connections in Midna and Dusk, who are both in high society (though Midna doesn't always act like it!)

Four is Twilight's younger brother (Twi was adopted as a young kid, so he remembers Four being a baby), and the two of them rent out a wheelchair-accessible apartment. Their hometown is a few hours away, but they always find time to go for important holidays. Four works at a garage in town and ends up servicing a lot of heavy machinery. He wants to get into doing some more craftsman-type work, but is having a hard time finding a place to experiment with it. He's working on saving up for some art/sculpture classes at a university, but has been really distracted with his job recently. He met Dot and Shadow through a trauma survivor's group, and right now they all go out for lunch every so often.

Warriors actually has a hard time with jobs and such. His steadiest gig right now is helping out at a large local martial arts studio, where he helps to train and spar against the advanced students. He wouldn't mind helping out the kids, but the fact that most of them don't know sign language is a barrier. He's drifted around several office jobs, but he's really just not one to sit down and do one thing all day. He keeps advancing at the summer camp they all go to, however, and that takes up more and more of his time, so he's not really all that worried about getting a more "normal" job. Impa runs the martial arts studio and Artemis is one of the head instructors, and he's good friends with both of them.

Wind is Warriors's younger brother, and the two of them live in the same apartment building as Twilight and Four. He's doing the college thing, at the same location as Hyrule, but Wind prefers online classes. He's part of the swim team, though, and likes going out to the lake when he can. (Tetra is another member of the swim team!) Wind has changed his major like six times, and works part-time at a smoothie shop. He likes playing video games.

Legend has also done a ridiculous variety of things, but right now he works at a very fancy restaurant doing mixed drinks, and actually managed to find a competition for it that he won some awards for. In conversation, he'll often reference other jobs or roles he's had but nobody knows the whole list. (He's referenced delivery driving, movie sets, an engineering firm, an insurance broker, a high-end jewelry store, a cruise ship, and several other things.) He comes from a rather wealthy family but his parents passed and he doesn't have a lot of contact with extended family. He writes out money to a lot of people under the guise of various organizations his family technically owns, and that includes helping Hyrule through medical school. Fable is his sister and way more involved in high society stuff, but she forces him to come to some of it sometimes.

Sky lives with his girlfriend in an apartment in the city. He spends most of his time doing translation work for the government, things like driver's license forms and ballot instructions (he works well with several different written languages). He does interpreting too when he needs to, and has another small job on the side at a natural history museum leading sign language tours.

And all of them go to camp! Sky and Warriors are both assistant directors, Time drives the supply truck, Wind does the sailing and swimming instruction, Hyrule the first aid guy, and most of the rest of them are part-time or full-time counselors during the summer. It's fun. :)

[human-monokuma]

"Hear it form him you shall." *With a playful tap on the nose, Mikado started seeing and hearing things from Celestia's perspective. it was her memory of her conversation with Monokuma.*

Monokuma: "So what did you want to talk about?"

Celestia: "Your rewards for your selflessness and bravery in the face of despair and disaster. Such as this." *She covers Monokuma Ina bright light, changing his form into living human form.* "With this, you shall be able to traverse the living realm as anyone else that is alive."

"Traverse? Ma'am, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead and I'm sort of tied to Hell. Because sinner, you know?"

Celestia: "Fufufufu~. Atomata of Despair, I bestow upon you a special gift." *A small light hovers over to Monokuma's hand, attaching itself to the back of his hand.*

Celestia: "This is a Warp Crystal, which will allow you to teleport between realms and teleport to any location you desire. From Earth, to Heaven, to any ring in Hell without any kind of restriction. With this, you will be able to return home and live out the rest of your days with your family until it is their time as well."

"........Why would you do this for me?"

Celestia: "You've fought hard for your happiness and for the happiness and well-being of others. I say it's only fair to reward you properly with something that will please you and your loved ones. Is that not it?"

"it's not that. It's just...I don't know. Doesn't feel right. Like, I've done so many bad things to other people. No way I can just return to a normal life after everything."

Celestia: "You know Makoto will tell them everything."

"That's not going to change anything. The people up there won't ever forgive me. Not after after Future foundation and hope's peak. Worse case scenario, they'll accuse Makoto as a fraud and start treating him like an enemy too. or worse. Don't get me wrong. I do want to be with everyone again. With my friends. my family. Mikado and Lucky, my brothers. But...what if I land them in trouble again? I....I don't know."

Celestia: "Your loved ones are willing to carry you along with your sins. Surely you're not going to disregard their feelings, are you?"

"You're not helping, you know. Like, what am I supposed to do? I'm already dead and me going back to Earth isn't going to make life easier for anyone. As long as they know that I'm still alive, then they're just going to keep bothering me and my friends just to get to me." *...........DING*

"wait a minute. 'As long as they know'? Or rather....It's 'if they know'. If they know that I'm back on Earth alive......But if they think I'm permanently dead....Yeah. Yeah, that can work. Maybe I can make this work. As long as the world thinks I'm dead, then they won't come after my family nor my friends. That way, even if I do return to earth, it should be fine if I'm hidden well enough. Yeah."

"Yeah! Hahahaha! Maybe I'll be able to return home after all! Hey, mind if I stay here a bit longer to work out the finer details?"

Celestia: "Of course. be my guess." *Monokuma its there and starts thinking things over. After a while, he nods to himself.*

"Ok. I think I got a decent idea of what to do now. First, I need to make sure that Makoto informs the world of my death and my involvement with the demon tree. I'm sure Monodam, a witness, will be able to make the story more convincing. or maybe I should ask one of the reapers. or that weird Sparkle chick. And now for Mikado....Hmm...."

Celestia: "While you're thinking about this I should inform you that you are not allow to tell anyone I granted you these rewards. They could try to take advantage of you in some ways."

"Well I am in Hell and this place is fully of scumbags, for the most part. Sooooooooo.....Yeah. Can't really tell anyone out in the open. Though, I don't want to leave Mikado in the dark. But I also can't tell him about my plan out of fear of being leaked. if that happens, I don't think I can return to Earth period and then there's what could happen to my family and friends....Yeah. I'm going to have to talk to Mikado about me staying in Hell for the long term. I just hope I can get through to him and make him understand. I would ask him to stay, but I don't want him to waste his life like that. Maybe I can ask Makoto to hire Mikado to give him proper protection from those Kisaragi jerks. Knowing him, he probably could allow Mikado a way in. The last thing I want to happen is for anyone I care about fighting or killing on my behalf. I want them to live their lives happy and free of worry and stress if possible. No more need to spilling the blood of innocence and junk like that....Sigh. This is going to be tough." *The memory comes to an end as Celestia takes her finger off Mikado's forehead.*

"I hope that cleared things up for you, Mikado. I understand your worries and concerns for your friend, which are indeed valid and he understands it too. He just needs to make sure that things will be alright enough for him to return so that no more tragedy comes your way."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[the-meat-machine]

An examination of Jane's Crockercorp brainwashing

You put on your highly fashionable UNREAL HEIRESS THOUGHTWAVE TIARATOP and flip it on. It immediately hums to life as its blazing fast processes mingle with your thoughts. It is the most efficient computing technology in the world by far, as long as you don't wear it for too long. But aside from a few migraines, you can't possibly imagine any OBEY drawbacks that CEASE REPRODUCTION could come with SUBMIT merging CONSUME your thoughts with EMBRACE YOUR CULLING experimental technology CONFORM TO SOCIAL ORDER from an STAY ASLEEP extremely powerful DIE corporation, wait what?

So, here's a fact: Jane has been brainwashed with Crockercorp propaganda from childhood.

Here's another fact: Jane is the heiress to Crockercorp and is being groomed to take over the company once she comes of age.

With that in mind, I'd like to take a look at the subliminal messages Jane gets brainwashed with. I want to consider what these messages mean both on a literal level and a broader societal level, as well as what they mean to Jane, specifically, as the heiress to Crockercorp. Because when Jane takes in these messages coming from Crockercorp, they don't just apply to her. They also represent the ideology she'll one day be expected to enforce once she takes over the company.

I'll organize this into sections based on the commands, grouping a few similar commands together.

SUBMIT / OBEY

The literal meaning of these commands is straightforward: submission and obedience to a higher authority; specifically, Crockercorp.

More generally, these commands are about the importance of hierarchy. They tell the listener that there are those in this world who must be obeyed without question.

These commands teach Jane to submit her will both to the Condesce and to the advancement of the company as a whole. Being bombarded with endless messages of SUBMIT and OBEY is presumably part of what made her susceptible to having her brain hijacked by the tiaratop entirely.

However, since Jane is the heiress to Crockercorp, these messages are also subconsciously teaching her that one day, she'll be the one people submit to and obey. She's being primed to be a leader, and an autocratic one at that. After all, a corporation isn't a democracy, least of all Crockercorp. The CEO gives the orders, and everyone else has no choice but to OBEY. The only thing the leader serves is the brand itself.

CONFORM TO SOCIAL ORDER

Self-explanatory. Jane is very, very good at this one. She will bury all of her desires deep within the darkest recesses of her brain in the pursuit of conforming to social order. In fact, she's so good at conforming to social order that she has managed to convince herself, her friends, and the entire fandom that she's "the normal one." Incredible.

She also tends to urge her friends to conform to social order, for example by pedantically correcting their grammar. As the future leader of Crockercorp, she'll one day be the one enforcing social norms, and I think she's a natural at it.

One other thing to consider with this command is whether the "social order" that the Condesce wants humans to conform to is actually the social order that humans will be picturing when brainwashed with this command. The Condesce wants humans to be more like trolls. But I highly doubt many humans would hear "conform to social order" and interpret it to mean that they should organize society by blood color and leave their children to be raised by wild animals!

CONSUME

The literal meaning of this one is to buy and consume Crockercorp products. And we see throughout the story that Jane is all-in on the Betty Crocker brand, even in cases where she knows that Betty Crocker products are inferior. She even directly acknowledges it at one point, admitting that BettyBother is significantly worse than Pesterchum, but that "brand loyalty is a powerful thing". I bet it is, Jane!

But beyond that… what this command teaches more generally is that unchecked capitalism is the highest virtue. And, look, I think there's a lot of evidence that Jane buys into that philosophy wholeheartedly.

Now, I wouldn't presume to know where exactly Jane stands politically. But it's hard to deny that she is, at the very least, fiscally conservative. She has no problem with the idea of society being under the control of a powerful corporation, as long as said corporation is her company. Crockercorp has wormed its way into all aspects of life in her world, and that's just peachy as far as Jane is concerned.

In fact, Jane wants Crockercorp to seize more power! Within a few days of her introduction, we see both that she wants to privatize the post office and that she's a believer in millionaire philanthropy. Obviously these pages are both presented as jokes, but I think they speak to her mindset. Jane is a wealthy girl who has never had any reason to question the privileges her wealth gives her or the power she's set to inherit.

And this mindset is reaffirmed in the credits, where Jane decides to reestablish her beloved Betty Crocker brand in the post-scarcity paradise she and the other kids created. It seems that she believes the only problem with Crockercorp was that there was a bad person running it, and now with her in charge instead everything will be hunky-dory! She doesn't appear to consider that there could be any systemic issues in having a god-run monopolistic corporation set up shop in utopia.

STAY ASLEEP

Metaphorically: stay ignorant. Don't pay attention to what's going on around you. Don't notice what Crockercorp is doing to you and to the world.

Jane does tend to reject facts that seem outlandish or improbable to her, and specifically spends a long time rejecting the notion that there could be anything sinister going on behind the scenes at Crockercorp.

Literally, this command could be a message directed at Jane specifically: stay asleep on Prospit. Don't wake up and see the portents in the clouds of Skaia, portents that may reveal things the Condesce doesn't want her to know.

EMBRACE YOUR CULLING / DIE

Literally, these two are directed more at the human populace of Earth: humanity is done for. Don't resist when the drones come to kill you.

Applied to Jane specifically, there are two possible literal interpretations. One is that she's being encouraged not to resist the Condesce, in case one day they end up fighting and the Condesce has to kill her. The other is that she's being encouraged to embrace death so that she can go god tier, which helps Jane herself level up while also being instrumental to the Condesce's plans.

Being constantly bombarded with messages telling her that she should die probably didn't do great for Jane's self-esteem! The Maid of Life's drive to survive can't be eliminated that easily, though.

On a broader level, these commands teach Jane that Crockercorp decides who is permitted to live and who deserves to die. Corporate control over life and death as the natural endgame of the corporate state. And of course, this means that as the head of Crockercorp, Jane will one day be in a position to decide whose lives are worth living.

CEASE REPRODUCTION

This is an interesting one when you look at the literal meaning. Because no matter how you think this command affected Jane, one thing it decidedly did not do is rid her of the desire to reproduce. Deep down—as revealed both in Trickster Mode and Crockertier���Jane really, really wants to have Jake's babies.

Personally, my headcanon is that this command left Jane with a massive breeding kink. For nebulous reasons she can't explain, she feels that reproductive sex is horribly taboo, more so even than sex in general. Meanwhile, she's desperately in love with Jake, and wants both to have sex with him, and also to have a nice heterosexual nuclear family with him (conform to social order!). And she's too repressed to express any of this to anybody, so it all builds up into this big impossible taboo fantasy of BABIES BABIES BABIES.

I also happen to think that the Condesce explicitly considers Jane an exception to this command. I've argued before that the Condesce is sincere in wanting Jane to be her heiress. She even goes so far as to allow Crockertier Jane to kidnap Jake with the intention of using him to sire children. And why not? Her heiress has gotta be able to have heiresses of her own. The royal line must go on. As is implicit in a lot of these messages, those who are in charge have the privilege of being exempt from restrictions that apply to everyone else.

There's also a broader implication to the CEASE REPRODUCTION command, and it's this: there are people out there whose uncontrolled breeding is a threat to social order. In this sense, it's a blatantly fascist message.

And… look, I've been avoiding referencing anything from the post-canon in this post so far, but if you'll allow me to dip into the Epilogues for just a moment: this, perhaps more than anything, is where the Condesce's attempted brainwashing of Jane really backfired for her. Because I would assume that one of the Condesce's goals is to perpetuate the troll race. And yet she allowed her human heiress to internalize the message that there are other people whose unnatural and disgusting methods of reproduction should be banned. Filtered through Jane's human mindset… well, from her perspective, it's probably trolls who have a bizarre and repellent way of reproducing. Seems like that might not work out so well for the trolls if Jane ends up in charge! Certainly it doesn't in Candy.

Conclusion

So there's the overview of what I believe are all the commands we see Jane get brainwashed with in Homestuck. If I forgot any, feel free to let me know.

Now, a lot of these messages are things Jane would have been internalizing regardless in her upbringing as a corporate scion. Hell, some of them are things that everybody in 21st century American capitalist society is going to be marinating in to some degree or other. And for some of the commands, like CONFORM TO SOCIAL ORDER, it's hard to tell how much is the brainwashing and how much is just Jane's natural personality.

But I do think all of these subliminal messages are very revealing in what they say about Jane's mindset, ideology, and unexamined biases. Because frankly, Jane never really reckons with any of this in canon. She never questions whether there was anything wrong with her upbringing. She continues to embrace the role she was raised to fill. Even after coming out of Crockertier, she's ashamed of how she behaved but never seems to examine why she acted that way. Instead she just goes right back to repressing everything.

After all, CONFORMING TO SOCIAL ORDER is what Jane is best at.

[doliacuddles]

UNDER THE PROHIBITED LIGHT.

𝖠𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

Who wouldn’t want to be in Heaven? A place where everything is perfect: comfort, pleasure, and a freedom that, although limited, offers a space to be virtuous, to do good. Alastor understood all of that well. He knew every corner of that celestial existence, but despite it all, something inside him remained broken. After years living there, the initial thrill had faded, and he found no motivation beyond his monotonous radio broadcasts. Beside him, his mother, with her warm and constant presence, accompanied him, but even her love couldn’t soothe the deep sadness that, over time, had grown into something far larger and darker than any pain he had ever known.

But then… you appeared.

Perhaps it was the fragility of your humanity that drew him in. Or maybe it was your purity, so bright, so dazzling in its innocence. But what Alastor felt for you could not be compared to anything he had experienced before, either in his time on Earth or in Heaven. It was a need… an urgency, something that gripped every part of his being.

Every time his eyes fell on you, something inside him sparked. But it wasn’t joy or satisfaction—it was possession. The desire to have you for himself, to make it so only you could see the perfection of his love, the devotion he felt for you, consumed him. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, that feeling only grew stronger.

At first, he watched from a distance, admiring your innocence, your sweetness, the way you interacted with others in Heaven. But what unsettled him most was how you behaved around him, as if you didn’t notice the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice trembled with emotion when he spoke to you. To him, every little gesture you made was a sign of something more, something only he could interpret, something that made him feel closer to you, even though deep down he knew what he was feeling wasn’t “normal.” But he didn’t care—everything you touched, everything you said, became sacred in his eyes. And only he could protect you from the invisible threats he saw in Heaven.

What he felt for you wasn’t love in its purest form, but something darker—something he wasn’t willing to acknowledge. Fear began to grow inside him, but it wasn’t the fear of losing you. It was the fear of being discovered. The fear that the higher angels, with their omniscient gaze, would realize what he was thinking, what he longed for in his heart.

Every time his eyes met yours, something within him trembled, not just with desire but with dread. What would happen if they found out? If they knew that what he felt for you wasn’t pure love, but something much darker, more selfish, more possessive. Would they cast him out of Heaven? Would they condemn him to the abyss for his impure thoughts?

The thought of losing you, of the higher angels separating him from you, terrified him. He had idealized you so much that he could no longer imagine a world where you weren’t his. The prospect of being punished for his thoughts, of being stripped of his place in Heaven just for desiring you, filled him with nearly unbearable anxiety. Every time he approached you, he felt the need to hide his true nature, to be the perfect angel everyone expected him to be, while inside, he was crumbling under the weight of his own desires.

He forced himself to smile, to show only his facade of courtesy and kindness, while his mind, tormented and obsessed, twisted with dark thoughts. “I can’t let anyone find out,” he thought, his hands gripping the radio console, sweaty and trembling. “I can’t lose her. I can’t let them take her away from me.”

And despite his fear, the desire only grew. Every gesture of yours, every glance, every word exchanged with him, fueled the fire burning in his chest. He desired you, but not in a pure way. He desired you in a possessive, destructive way, as if your very existence were his, as if your happiness could only come from his love, and no one else could be near you.

And worst of all, he knew it. He knew he couldn’t stop, that he no longer wanted to stop. Heaven could judge him, but if they took you away from him, he would care about nothing else. And that thought terrified him more than anything. Because if Heaven forgave him, if they allowed him to stay close to you, then he could protect you, he could ensure that no one—not even he himself—could take you out of his life.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 5

Rating: explicit (smut, language)

Summary: So... it's after you and Din talk...

tags: Angst, slight dub-con (I never know bc I would always fuck Din?), being mad as fuck at Din, how could he?, Din/Mando being a dumb stupid idiot, reader also being a dumb stupid idiot. Idiots in LOVE, mutual pining, then normal smut things (without spoilers to the chapter, sorry) SPOILERS TO The Book of Boba Fett and The Mandalorian.

a/n: I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you read this on ao3, no you fucking didn't. It's still unbeta'd, but proofread!! I did that this time!! I also am re-working the story slightly because I CAN.

a/n pt2: I don't know shit about Star Wars/ The Mandalorian. I did however spend an un-Makerly amount of time learning for all of us. If you're not well versed in the lore or the history of Star Wars/ The Mandalorian-- that's okay! This is Star Wars/ Mando for Beginners. (Also stating this as a warning for anyone well versed in the universe and the lore-- shhhhhhhhhhhhhh. DON'T COME FOR ME)

<- Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

The Jedi Code was taught to you. Engraved in your mind.

Harmony, serenity, peace and knowledge. The force. The lightside.

All the bad things; chaos, emotion, passion, ignorance, death.

The darkside. You learned to not fear the darkside, but instead to embrace the force.

Even though you didn’t have the maker forsaken force inside of you! Not even a litte bit! None of 'the force' had found its way into you!

Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano trained you as if you did!

Why!?

They spent so much time building you from the ground up! They made sure you had muscles and could run for long distances. The pair trained you how to fight with your hands!

Your hands know how to use a lightsaber! That's not an easy feat, and it takes a long time to learn that skill.

Oh, how long? A really long time!

Two years!

Two long years without any sign of that man in the tin can outfit! He's never called, he's never come to visit!

Two. Fucking. Years.

Sometimes you hated Din for leaving you here but you very quickly remember that you asked for this. 

Wanted this more than anything.

Foolish!

You wanted so badly to make sure the child was cared for; the child was older than you are!

Much, much older! Not even a baby at all, but a toddler where he comes from. A very special toddler. A force sensitive toddler.

Coming here was a mistake! The only thing you do here is clean up the messes Grogu- that's the child's Maker forsaken name. He has a name!

Grogu makes messes, so you clean them, and get hit with sticks as some sick and twisted form of 'training'! It feels like a joke when they told you to 'block your face and important organs' and then started to pummel you with the hardest, most fast moving sticks you've ever seen!

Not having any amount of the force inside of you really makes training with Jedi's incredibly difficult! Grogu seemed to be having a blast training with Skywalker.

They trained differently, so unfortunately the two of you didn't see each other much, and when you did, your time with him was cut short.

The two of you grew up here a little, together while separated.

Luke and Ahsoka claimed that you babied him and it would impeed his training, so they kept you apart as much as they seemed humane. You became so very depressed without the child and Din.

All alone even though you were surrounded by so many people.

The nights that you got to spend with Grogu were usually spent laying under the stars outside the Jedi temple, speaking fondly of Din.

Mostly for the child's sake, because you only wonder if he had completely forgotten about you.

The answer to that question came when Luke came to Grogu with a gift. 

“A gift?” You say with a curled lip.

Have you not just spent all of your time here; learning the way of the Jedi? That was an attachment and you– in your two years becoming a mock Jedi– were weary. The darkside. The emotion. The attachments.

This was scary.

Luke held the gift in his hands while he spoke. You're subtlety looking for your gift but... you don't see one. Only one parcel.

Oh.

“This gift would be the end of both of your Jedi training, should he keep it. Attachments may not be had, by anyone.” Luke looks between the both of you as you stand before him.

Why is he looking at you!? You might stay at this temple and learn all the ways of the Jedi and become the most powerful non-force sensitive Jedi the galaxy has ever seen!

“You both have come so far, you have so much potential. Both of you.” Luke’s eyes fall on you. “I’ve been surprised before, but this was a pleasant one. Watching you both learn so much. I hope he both makes the choice that’s best for you.” Luke looks to Grogu and hands him the package wrapped in brown paper.

“Why couldn’t I stay if he wanted to leave?” You ask Luke. 

“You come with the child. You leave with the child.” Luke explains simply. 

Maker-- alright. You can’t argue with that. You don't have much to offer besides cleaning up the kid's messes. They're probably tired of watching you perfect the lightsaber.

You're actually pretty good.

Grogu glances up at you just as you look down at him. You kneel on one knee so you can be closer to him, and watch as his six little clawed fingers struggle with the twine wrapped around it, but he uses the Force.

“Cheater.” You whisper to him.

The gift is beskar. A piece of... Mandlaorian armor for Grogu. 

“ Mando said he can’t put it on until he sees you–” 

“M-Mando’s here?” You interrupt accidentally. Your heart begins to pound in your chest at the thought that you might actually be able to see him right now.

Luke gives you a knowing look, as if you should know better, and shakes his head from side to side.

“Ahsoka sent him away. It would interfere with your training. If you wish to stay here and train, continue to learn the Jedi way. You both have come far, but it’s nowhere near close to done. Accepting this would end that training.”

It’s a warning.

The energy in the room is so intense. You can feel electricity in the air almost. Grogu is still standing beside you, looking down at his own piece of beskar.

What’s he going to do?

Luke reaches into his robe.

Everyone here has all these hidden pockets for things in their clothes. You have a couple hidden pockets now too . For things you may need to hide and pull out in moments just like this one day. You hope. It’s so cool when they do that.

Luke hands Grogu a lightsaber. Grogu’s own lightsaber. 

“You have a choice, young padawan.” His gravelly voice rakes across your brain. 

It's so quiet for so long. 

Grogu touches the lightsaber softly. Admiring it. He did the same thing with the armor. 

So long you waited. Understandably, this was a hard choice.

Grogo picks the armor.

Grogu and yourself are on a ship to a hangar where Din is waiting for a response. Your knees are complete mudslides right now. They are not supporting you and they have two years of Jedi training behind them. They’re strong. 

The nerves got to them, though--ate away all the tendons you ever had and dissolved the muscle down to nothing.

Din had been on your mind every single day for two years, and he didn't even ask if YOU wanted to come back. Only Grogu! You feel like a fool sitting next to the tiny green toddler.

Where are you supposed to go when Din tells you that he doesn't need your services anymore!?

The ramp of the ship drops down and there is a cloud of dust. And then there he is. Standing at the base of the ramp, like he had been waiting for you two. Or apparently just Grogu. Since he’s the one who got the gift.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No attachments. Perfect. You’re basically a Jedi. 

Grogu, who is so much faster, so, so much faster than you ever remember him being, flings himself at Din, and attaches himself around his neck.

You watch in amusement, wishing you could do the same thing but you’re partially a Jedi now, so you keep your composure and walk down the ramp slowly. Your mouth is so dry, you don't even attempt to swallow because you know it'll just end in you choking.

Din hugs the child tightly. Their embrace is so sweet. So kind. It makes you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

It makes your heart pang as well.

They hug for a long time before Grogu looks back at you, pulling away from Din’s neck. Grogu extends a curved hand to you. You suddenly feel a gentle pressure around your waist, and are being dragged forward, against your will, feet stumbling beneath you. 

You point your finger at Grogu. “Hey!” You shout. The pressure around your waist stops and you’re set back down on your feet carefully. “I told you to knock that off!"

This is Grogu’s new, fun game. Picking you up and putting you where he wants you. He hasn’t stopped doing it since he learned how.

Dropped you a couple times in the beginning. 

Din chuckles from under the helmet. “I see your relationship has changed quite a bit.” His flat rasp is the same as you remember it.  "He's the one carrying you around now,"

“It’s basically still the same. I have to yell at him for doing things he shouldn’t.” You scowl at Grogu, who hides himself behind Din's helmet.

“It’s nice to see you," Din's modulated voice is even and quiet. As if he doesn't want to say it at all.

That’s it. No hug. Nothing. Not even a handshake.

You could hit him. For several seconds you think about doing it.

Now your fist– with two years of Jedi training– and it might actually hurt him. It might hurt him a lot, and you’d feel good about it. So good.

"It's nice to see you, too."

The anger is pumping in your veins as he leads you through the hanger behind him. You look at all the ships, and look for the Crest but you don’t see it anywhere. Eventually Din stops in front of a ship much larger than the Crest. Bigger guns on it too. 

Din just stands there and looks at you with his stupid helmet shining in the bright light of the hangar. You don’t know what to do. He dropped you off on Ossus where the Jedi temple was, and didn't give you a hug. Not a pat on the shoulders. Literally nothing.

"Keep the kid out of trouble. You'll hear from me soon."

That's all Din had said before he and Grogu went to say their goodbyes!

"It's a new ship." Din points to the giant hunk of metal he’s standing in front of. His beskar looks exactly the same. Maybe a new scrape or two. A ding here or there but you’re not even looking. Not even paying attention to him. Trying not to. 

“Okay...” You resort to using your favorite word.

Why, Maker? Why can’t the man in the helmet speak? Is his helmet on mute? Always so fucking quiet. Until you don’t want him to be, then he won’t shut up.

Din leads you inside. Shows you the sleeping quarters. There are two beds. One for each of you.

There is a separate room for the child.

The dining room is nice and everything else is so nice. So much nicer than the Razor Crest. Even the cockpit you have no idea how to use. 

You look all around the hull like it's very interesting. This is so awkward. Not what you expected when you were on your way here. It's not like you expected a welcome back party. Maybe a hug. Something. 

"What happened to the Crest?" You ask, trying to avoid looking at him.

"It was destroyed."

The sleeping quarters are different from the Razor Crest. The beds are close together, but separated and welded to the floor so there is no way to move them closer together.

The mats that are nestled into the metal frames are thicker and much more plush than the one you had slept on for so long before you were banished away to the Jedi temple.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No emotion. No attachments. It’s all fine. 

The small bag that holds your very few belongings stays packed in case he doesn't plan on you staying very long. He could very well be headed right back to Cantonica to drop you back off at the Canto Bight Casino!

The three of you eat dinner in silence.

Din says not one word to you and you don't try and strike up the conversations like you used to. Things feel so different now, like the two of you are complete strangers all over again.

Grogu has changed in ways that are hard to describe. He's still a baby in your eyes even though he's older than you and Din.

The two of you play together on the floor while Din or maybe you should call him Mando again, since you barely know this man after two whole years, does something in the cockpit.

Grogu warbles and you watch all the new, fun things he can do with the Force that aren’t moving you unwillingly. It's the first real fun the two of you are able to have since being dropped off at the temple. You missed being able to play with him. You still snuggle him at the protests of Luke and Ahsoka-- how could you not when he climbs into your lap and cuddles into your arms.

Like he knew you couldn’t resist. 

Grogu can put himself to sleep now which is incredible, and that means you have time to do whatever you want.

So you’re in your bed with your nice new sheets. They’re soft. Like the ones on the Crest.

It’s dark here, too.

Maker, what in the stars?

The sun shields in this ship are no joke! There's no light at all. If you have to go to the bathroom, it’s just blind wishing that you don’t break you toes, or bump into a wall and potentially crack your skull. 

It feels like you were completely forgotten about in those two years and now, in the dark silence of your shared sleeping quarters you just want to cry...

An emotion!? After two years of strict Jedi code training---

There is a ten thousand degree warmth on your upper arm in the void, and it scares you half out of the bed. Your tops of your feet and knees are on the cool metal of the ships floor, and you're leaning against the side of the bed-frame like you are praying to Maker.

“I was going to see if you were sleeping," Din's rasping sounds-- happy to talk to you?

You're unsure. Nothing else about the way he's spoken to you, or treated you at all makes you think he wants to talk to you.

"That's not how you find out if someone's asleep!" You bark at him angrily.

"You're awake though.” A flat, unimpressed response to your outburst.

Maker, if you had your own helmet with night vision, you’d use all your new fun Jedi fighting tricks on him. You sure would, because who is he!? Who does he think he is!?

After two years he can come back and just throttle you awake in the dark like before? Nope. Not this time. 

“You’re lucky I can’t see you right now.” You say over the pounding heart in your chest. “So lucky-- What do you care if I'm awake in the night?! Let me sleep!” You’re so cold with him, mirroring him perfectly minus the emotion. “I’m tired.” You lie to him. 

In the usual Din fashion, he remains quiet. He still had his hand on your arm, and it's not like you really made an attempt to pull it away because it’s hot like you remember.. Burning you, he's so warm.

Din is also so fucking quiet! Maker! Is he okay?

“Tired?” Din’s voice rasps in the dark. "Then why aren't you sleeping?"

You realize the metal man has no grip on you whatsoever. He was just touching you very, very gently, and you easily could have pulled away at any moment.

So you you tug your arm away and you climb back into bed and face the opposite direction from him. "I was trying to sleep when you come over here-- shaking me in the darkness!"

“You…” Din trails off in the dark. “Still don't know the meaning of shake?” He questions you like a dumb idiot. 

"Get away from me!" You almost shout it. "Just leave me alone!" You humph, and pull the sheets over your shoulder.

"Are you... mad at me?"

“Are you kidding me!?” You whisper at him. “I don’t know how you could leave me out there for two years, and I get nothing!?” You sit up in your bed now and talk blindly in the dark. “Nothing. No visit. No calls. Nothing.” You cross your arms over your chest. "No gift!"

Din stays silent- which was predicted- so you carry on.

“But you get Grogu a gift, which was very sweet. Very cute armor, he is going to look very cute it in.” You think of the child dressed in the armor and it's kind of amusing and slightly distracting.

“Are you done?” Din’s stupid modulated voice rings out in the dark after a minute of you imagining an armored Grogu.

It's so dark and you still don't really know where he is, so with your accusing index finger pointing in the direction he could be in, you almost shout, “No! I’m not done!”

You are in fact, not done.

“They treated me like I had the Force in me. Do you know how hard that is when you don’t have the fucking force in you!?” You exclaim in exasperation, still pointing at him.

You start to speak again into the blinding darkness when a warm hand very gingerly moves your accusatory pointing finger eight inches to your right. 

“I figured I should at least be getting pointed at, if you’re going scold me,” Din rasps.

You die inside and wonder how dumb you look in the dark. “Why did you even bring me back? Hm? Why not just send me right back to the casino? Or is that where we’re going next? Gonna just drop me off? You even gonna land first or just let me duck and roll?” You huff, officially done with your rant. 

“Are you don-” Din starts, but you cut him off. 

“Yes!" You snap at him, and then you huff one more time for good measure. You're so angry with him.

So much for all your Jedi no emotion training. 

“I have a gift for you.” Din says flatly through the modulator. 

Oh.

“Well it’s so dark in here, so how would I know that?” You snip at him, not sure you’re fully ready to forgive him. You roll your eyes now. 

“Would you still like it? Or are you too upset with me?” Din’s modulated rasp asks you, sounding annoyed.

Why does he have a right to be annoyed? He could have given you that gift the minute you step foot of that return ship that brought you back to him.

Why wait until the darkness!? Why!?

“Yes, I would.” You hold your cupped hand out into the dark and feel something cold and hard fall into it. “It would be nice if I could –” 

The brightest beam of light you’ve ever encountered shines directly into your eyes. It’s blinding.

You jump again, out of bed because what the fuck is that!?

Is this an attack!?

What even is that light? Where is it coming from?

Thankfully, you wrapped your hand around the thing Din dropped into your hand so you didn't fling it into the abyss to never be seen again before you ever even got to look at it!

“Why are you on the floor?” Din asks, as you hold your free hand to your chest. You blink up at him, having to shield your eyes. 

“Are you the light right now!?” You question him squinting your eyes in its brightness. "Are you the one blinding me!?"

“Yes." Din dims the light tremendously somehow from within his helmet and now, it’s easier on the eyes. Like a candle flame. "Was it to bright?"

“It was too bright! I don’t think I’ll ever see again.” You snip softly, resting on the floor and putting your elbows on the bed. 

You inspect the small pink crystal in your hand. It takes you a couple seconds to realize what it is.

“Is this a kyber crystal?” You look up at Din who is knelt down on the other side of your bed.

He nods in the now pale light that's much easier on the eyes. “I got it on my travels. I thought that if you knew how to use a lightsaber, I’d get one for you. Put this crystal in it.” 

Maker. What is happening? 

“You thought of me?” You didn’t mean to say it. Part of you is still mad. 

“Everyday .” Din’s awe and amazement voice is back. “Di- Did you not think about me?” Just as quickly as that sweet familiar tone had shown up, it's gone just as fast. Din can' believe that you didn't think of him during your time apart.

“I did.” You say quietly. “I thought you had forgotten me. Without the visits or calls or gift.” You do feel silly now because this really is a sweet gift.

The sweetest gift. More sweet than the notebook and the credits and anything else he's ever given you. The small pink crystal in your hand means so much to you. The fact that he got it for you, was thinking about you while you were gone. The fact that the meaning behind the gift is so big. You own lightsaber if you wanted one. Din would get one for you. Said it himself. Your heart is racing in your chest.

“Never . I’ve been waiting to see you. Been thinking of you. Looking at your doodles every night.” He turns the light off and takes the crystal from your still outstretched hand. 

“Hey! That’s mine.” You reach for it but he leaves you kneeling next to your bed like you are praying to Maker in the dark again.

“I’m going to give it back.” Din raps . “Do you want to get back in bed or are you content on the floor?” 

You’re blinking into the dark. Wondering how dumb you look now on the floor blinking into the void. You scramble up without assistance and crawl into bed, facing the same direction as before. Away from Din. 

Secretly, you’re hoping he’s sans beskar and crawls into bed beside you and lets you hold him like he did the nights before you left. With your arm around his waist, stealing his radiating heat from him while he sleeps. You’d mill kisses softly across his shoulders and you’d listen to him sigh and make sleep sounds in the darkness.

But that doesn’t happen. It’s so quiet. It’s so still for so long. You wonder if he’s crawled in his own bed and is fast asleep. What could this all mean? The gift? The cold welcome back after two years? Everything you did before you left? What did it mean and did you accidentally fall for a potential half man- half droid that’s never going to show you his face? 

The dark is still, so quiet and unmoving. You feel like you’re alone in the room. 

“C-can I touch? Or are you still too upset with me?” Din asks quietly, the rasp of his modulator is gone. His sweet deep voice is right in your ear. It doesn’t startle you because you’ve been waiting to hear him speak for so long. 

“No.” You snap. “You couldn’t come touch me for two years! I would have let you then, any time you came to visit, I would have but you-”

His lips on yours stop you. You almost try and push him off, but Maker. I

t feels so good. His warm, soft lips on yours after all this time. You both open your mouths slightly, and as tentatively as Din touched you for the first time two years ago, his tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth just as slowly.

It’s gone as soon as it appeared. 

“I tried.” He whispers against your open mouth. “I got turned away every time. So many times I tried to see you.” He’s speaking fast, like he’s trying to explain himself to you before you beat him off of you with something hard you’ve found in the dark. “ So many times, little one." 

The words melt over your tongue as he speaks them, almost as if they were your words.

Ahsoka and Luke never told you he came to visit. Not one time. 

“I tried. I never forgot about you. Too perfect. Too beautiful to forget..." ” His bare hands cup your face as you speak. “Never forget you. Everyday I look at your doodles. I look at you, and miss you."

You're breathing in the words he's speaking into your parted lip. He kisses you again softly. You feel the bed shift next to you and he’s crawling beside you.

“Do you dislike me again?”

Maker, Din somehow got warmer. He’s running a fever all the time and his body feels like the embers in the fire pit at the end of the night. 

“Again?” You whisper as he pulls your face down to the pillows with his. 

“You didn’t care for me much before the doodles.” Din kisses your lips again, gently as his hand slips from your cheek. “I didn’t think you’d let me.” You can feel his warm breath on your chin as he speaks. 

“Let you what?” 

“Touch. Watch. The first time.” His real unmodulated voice whispers to you. “I've missed touching. Watching."

A warmth hovers over your middle, you reach for it. Tt’s Din’s hand, hovering above your stomach, under the blankets, but over your clothes. 

“Touch me.” It almost doesn’t come out of your mouth because it’s so dry. But you croak it out and swallow hard as the word leaves your lips because you hope he does. You hope this isn't like the first night all over again where he makes you do it alone.

Din obliges and lets his hand drop, you feel the heat spreading out along your nightgown starting from where his hand rests on your lower stomach. It makes you inhale sharply. It’s such a familiar touch and you missed it so much. 

Din sighs and drags his hands gently and slowly up your stomach, the fabric bunching at his wrist as he does it.

He's lifting your nightgown. 

“Din,” You whisper as his palm cups one of your fleshy tits over the nightgown.

His rough, calloused hands were so gently, touching you so sweetly until your hand rests on his, you make him squeeze you. You make him because you need to know this is real and these soft gentle touches feel like a dream.

Din grips you now. He can feel your desperation in your hand on his. Squeezing and pulling and tugging at your flesh. 

“Fuck.” He moans softly into your shoulder where his head was resting. The fiery goodness from his forehead felt like it was melting you. “Perfect. Beautiful.” He says the word like he doesn’t want to. Like he’s been forcing them back but they’re breaking free from his vocal chords.

You can almost feel his heartbeat. Or maybe it’s yours.

You don’t know. 

It’s just obvious that this is what you want and you need him. Badly. However he’s willing to give himself to you or however he wants to take you, you don’t care. You’ve been waiting and thinking about this for two years. Your body reacts to his touch like you were built for him. Your pussy is leaking and throbbing already and he’s only touched you once. 

There's a new warmth, a wetness to these sensations now. Din’s wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and is sucking. Biting gently over the nightgown you have on. It sends shivers down your spine.

Words come flowing out of your mouth before you can even stop them. “I've waited so long for this.” You whimper quietly.

Your hips are rolling against the bed below you because everything just feel so good, everything is just so overwhelmingly pleasurable. Din’s hands and mouth on you, the heat he's passing along through his touch. 

“Touch. I wanna hear you moan.” He murmurs against your breast. He’s still biting and sucking it through the fabric like he’s too impatient to take off the nightgown. He just can’t wait any longer. 

“I need you to touch me.” You whine quietly. “Please.” You’re begging him. “Please, Din, I need to fee-” But he doesn’t make you beg long, his free hand slides between your legs and he sighs loudly against you. 

“”Fuck. Fuck. You're s-so wet. So fucking perfect.” Din bites your nipple a little harder now, but then he pulls way. “Let me lick. P-Please. I just wanted to watch but now I need to taste you.” He’s moving down between your legs as he talks to you. Then he stops.

“Okay. Okay. Please. Do it, please.” You’re already spreading your legs but he’s getting off the bed again. “Nononononono.” You whine, reaching blindly for him in the dark. You’re on the verge of tears. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

It’s so quiet. It’s like time stopped. 

“Din?” You whisper. “Did you leave?” 

“Where would I go?” He answers but he’s further away from you now. "It's my ship."

“Well you’re obviously not here– where you were!” You exclaim quietly. You hear him chuckle in the dark. 

“Come to my bed. I want to do something. New.” 

Oh Maker what could that mean? A new stun gun? Some weird thing he found in his travels?

Does he want to make you the lightsaber and put the focus crystal inside you? That’s where you draw the line.

“What does that mean?” You ask nervously, clutching the sheets to your chest as you stare into the void. “New?” 

“Come here. You said I could lick, yes? Let me.” Din’s voice in the dark makes you drop the blankets your clutching and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. “Come, little one. Let me lick you. Let me taste you.” His voice guides you to him and you start to crawl into his bed but he stops you. “Leg.” He says into the dark.

“Leg?” You ask, confused. Din reaches for you in the dark and taps your upper thigh. 

“Leg.” He says like he’s teaching you body parts. “Swing it up here over my head.” 

“What!?” You exclaim. “You want me to do what?!” 

“I want you to sit on my face.” Din’s smiling in the dark and you can hear it in his voice. 

“And you’re going to taste me like that?” You’re exasperated. You’ve never even heard of this. What does that mean, sit on his face. “I’m going to smother you!” 

“Then I’ll die a happy man. Get up here.” Now he’s impatient. Din’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

You swing one leg over his head and straddle him, pressing both hands to the wall in front of you. The ship's metal is so cold on your clammy hands. You can feel him breathing against your inner thighs as you sit on your knees above him.

“ This is perfect.” Din whispers. You can only whimper quietly because you’re so nervous, you feel so exposed up here. “You want me to lick…” He leans up and gives the very top of your slit a quick teasing lick. “Here? Yes?” 

Your knees buckle because Din’s tongue is just as soft and just as warm as you remember and you do want him to lick there. You can’t find words for how badly you want him. All you can do is let out a breathy sound of consent. 

“Beautiful.” Din wraps his hands under your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth, his tongue is ready. Eager. Waiting for you to be on him, for him to be inside your folds. “Just as I remember.” He whispers into your pussy, tasting that flavor he memorized before you left and thought of it often. “I touched myself, thinking of you. To your doodles. To your flavor.” Din takes the flat of his tongue and licks you from your opening all the way to your clit, slowly, he presses up against you so you feel him. 

He wants you to know he missed you. 

“ Maker, yes. ” It’s moaned softly as Din presses the flat of his tongue against your slit and lets you ride his mouth. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. Why were you so scared? Being on top of him, this way, you were in control up here. “ Oh Din, yes.” You’re not holding back tonight. 

You’ve been waiting to do this. Dreaming about it at night and waking up in the morning having to give yourself some sort of pleasure. You slide one hand down into his thick, coarse hair, just enjoying the feeling of it between your fingers again. You hear Din moan from between your legs and his tongue moves against you faster. 

Your fingers tighten in Din’s hair as he holds you around the legs, you’re pinned down onto him. His tongue is lapping and exploring your folds. Licking at all the spots he remembers make you squirm. He memorized every inch of you before he left and he’s been thinking about you, keeping it fresh in his head for this moment so he can make you whimper and quiver like he used to.

Din is panting underneath you, he’s working for what you’re about to give him. His tongue was drifting between those big lazy circles that had you whimpering and begging him for more and tight fast spinning around your clit. That’s when his hands found your hips and started to move you on his face, his tongue flat, stroking your clit with each movement of your hips. 

“Please don’t stop.” Pushing yourself off the wall you’ve been leaning against, you hover over him now, rocking your hips on your own. You found a rhythm with Din’s help. He holds your hips tighter now–not messing with the rocking of your hips–feeling you roll yourself along his mouth. As he does that he pulls you down harder on his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair and you grip it tightly now in both fists and grind down against his flat, strong muscle. “ Oh fuck yes . Din, I’m so close.” You’re whimpering for him.

Din moans loudly from underneath you, his hands now moving to your ass. He gropes and spreads your cheeks. 

“M-moan again.” You stutter, your hips grinding harder and faster. The vibrations from Din’s moans will be enough. 

Din obliges happily and moans loudly again, over and over as your head falls back, hips never stopping their rocking motion on his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck–ing yes. Din, oh Maker!” You cry out. You don’t care if The Razor Crest is gone, you have those memories inside your head forever. You don’t have to hold back nearly as much here. You can let him know how fucking good he makes you feel. Your body is quivering as you grind against him. You can feel the prickles of his facial hair on your inner thighs and lips as you ride him.

Being on Din’s face like this was heaven. You can hear him noisily licking and sucking at the new wave of juices that are dripping from your entrance. As the warm ball of fiery goodness spreads through you, you start to shudder and tremble on top of him, his tongue never stops moving against your clit and then dipping inside of your hole to taste you as you leak out. Din laps at you until there’s nothing left. Sucking your lips into his mouth at the end to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He leaves you trembling above him for so long he has to tap your thigh again for you to swing It over his head. 

"Sorry." You pant. "That was good. I'd do that again." You go to stand off his bed and you feel him wrap his arms around your waist. 

"Don't go. Share the bed." He whispers up to you. "I waited for so long." 

"I waited too!" You exclaim as all of your anger and fear of being forgotten about returns. "I waited for just as long as you did! You sure didn't act like you missed me or waited for me. Not until the lights went off at least." You're storming to your own bed now. You move quickly, not wanting him to hear or see the tears in your eyes.

You've been keeping this in for a long time. Letting it bottle up until you can't keep it in anymore. And the fact that he confessed all those nice things just to be able to touch you.

Din doesn't say anything in the dark, letting you try and find you way back in the void. It makes you sadder that he isn't trying to comfort you. The tears come, quietly, thank Maker, as you get into your own bed and wrap yourself in the covers. It isn't until you let out a little weeping sound that you hear him shuffle and then your bed shifts under his weight. Din's pressing himself into you gently, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

"If you had reached for me, you could have felt my heart from under my beskar." He whispers in your ear. "I did miss you. I did wait for you." A small kiss along your jaw, "You didn't seem like you were happy to see me today." He sounds disappointed. "I thought you had forgotten about me. Maybe someone with a face and who didn't leave made you forget about me." Another small kiss in the same place. "I sat in the dark for so long, wondering if you were thinking of me. I had to come find out. I did't mean to scare you. Don't cry, little one. Please?" He's kissing your face gently. 

"I don't think anyone could ever make me forget about you." You whisper into the void.

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux

I'm still so uncomfortable tagging people in my stories, so like I said, please tell me to fuck off if you want me to stop. My feelings won't be hurt (yes they will), and it's completely fine (I'm a big girl and can handle it).

[pigeon-behavior]

Pigeon Puberty

There’s many challenges surrounding introducing a new pigeon into your life, and one of the most difficult of them is something that simply can’t be avoided.

Puberty.

We’ve all been through it - or, depending on our age, we’re going through it, or are doomed to go through it. And pigeons are much the same.

The famed rebellious attitudes and antisocial tendencies of human puberty are apparently not confined to us. Pigeons in their first year go through this too! And it’s miserable. Don’t want kids? Surprise, you get a taste of being a parent anyway.

It’s very hard to prepare for puberty. Even if you’ve already been through it - even if you’ve been through it multiple times - it’s never easy, and it never feels good. It’s easy to feel like it’s your fault. That you failed.

But you haven’t. I promise.

This guide is about surviving your pigeon’s puberty: what to expect, what to accept, and what you can do about any of it.

Baby Steps: Independence Day

Most of you will never need this section, but just enough of you will that it’s worth including.

A scenario I’ve seen on several occasions now is “This baby pigeon in my life was cuddling with me, and now wants nothing to do with me! What happened!”

This is really normal. Baby pigeons, somewhere around 7-12 weeks (maybe earlier, maybe later), will decide they don’t want to hang out with you. They’ll suddenly be afraid of your hands. They might try to snap or bite or slap you for the first time in their lives.

This is just a phase they go through. Not all of them will, but it’s extremely standard that it’s not at all a mistake to expect it. Don’t take it personally. They’ll come back around.

During this time, limit handling and any forced interaction. You can make them hand-shy by intruding too much on their personal space in this time.

Any interaction they initiate is fine, just allow them to exit if they want to. Instructions down below on the “DON’Ts” of “Hell Period pigeons” will also apply here.

Overall, just be patient and understanding. They’ll come around.

Puberty Part One: The Precursor To Reproduction

Before animals can produce offspring, they have to sexually mature. They might not be totally mature after they are capable of reproducing, but what matters to evolution is passing on your genes. And pigeons can pass on their genes very early.

It’s not at all unusual for pigeons to be entirely capable of having their own babies by the time they’re 6 months old. Or earlier. The earliest I have personally seen a hen reach sexual maturity (laying an egg) is a few days before she turned 4 months old.

That’s not necessarily always the case. Some pigeons won’t sexually mature until they’re a year old. But that gives you an idea of the wide window we’re working with.

Any pigeon who has sexually matured has completed the “Hell Period” of their puberty already. This is the time period you are most likely to notice. So what is the Hell Period?

The Hell Period will contain some or all of these “symptoms” in most pigeons:

-Extreme anti-social behavior

-Endless window-gazing

-Intense, unpredictable moodiness

-Unusual flightiness or being easily scared

-Aggression or biting too much (beyond driving)

-Spending a lot of time on top of cabinets or ceiling fans

-Ignoring any previously taught commands

-Lost interest in receiving treats

-Higher-than-usual stubbornness

-Greater need for personal space

-Hating hands suddenly

-Nervousness displayed to adult birds (even parents) or other young birds they don’t know well

It’s also not unusual for them to begin to molt at some point during this significant chunk of their maturation. Molting already can make them moody, but obviously in this case it’s sort of one more straw on the camel’s back for them.

It’s possible I’ve missed or forgotten an aspect of the Hell Period, but I think you get the gist.

We’ll call the portion of their maturation that contains the Hell Period and leads up to them producing eggs and sperm sexual maturation, just to be clear.

So how long does this sexual maturation process last?

Well, that can be a little difficult to tell. The process begins and ends with an on-and-off ramp (think a parable graph, or a bridge), and that means that it’s difficult to tell when the process is starting, and it’s difficult to tell when it is ending.

Generally, it seems like the Hell Period lasts maybe a month to a month and a half. It’s hard to give a more concrete answer without concrete data. I have to do my best with guessing.

But if I have to estimate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the process as a whole lasted more like 2 and a half months (maybe less, maybe more), and we just can’t accurately see the beginning and end.

So how do you handle it?

It can be very hard to emotionally handle the Hell Period. Everyone finds it difficult. A tiny, tiny number of pigeons have sexual maturations so tame they aren’t even noticed at all, but they aren’t common enough that you can reasonably hope you just happened to get one.

It’s easy to feel rejected, or like you’ve done something wrong. I want to reassure you that you haven’t. It will get better. Your pigeon will come back around. I promise. Someday you will hardly believe they ever were like this.

As for what you can do in the meantime, well, it is pretty simple.

Not much! But that’s okay.

Your best bet with a pigeon going through Hell Period is to simply make yourself available. Don’t force interaction. Don’t push into their space. Just hang out in the same room, and give them the opportunity to come to you.

I know, it’s sounding a lot like human parenting once I put it down on paper. But I promise, it’s your best option. You’ll avoid increasing any reactivity, and create opportunities for positive associations. You’ll also notice better when they’re pulling out of their raging hormones - they’ll come to you more often, and you will see a light out of the darkness.

Here’s a small list of Don'ts for pigeons in their Hell Period, to preserve your bonding progress and their wellbeing down the line. Don't create a hand-shy bird!

DON’T:

-Put pants/flypers/harnesses on a HPP (Hell Period pigeon)

-Overhandle a HPP

-Try to force a HPP to spend time with you

-Try to desensitize a HPP to hands if they’re scared - it can wait

-Force a HPP to take treats from your hands - just put them down where the HPP can get to them comfortably

-Try to continue training with an HPP that previously worked but now doesn’t - just wait, they’ll become reasonable again

-Be impatient

-Take it personally

There’s not a lot you can do except avoid mistakes and preserve your own feelings. And that’s okay. That’s normal.

It’s unfortunate that most people don’t get adequately warned about how hard puberty is before they get a pigeon. They’re fantastic animals, and great pets, but it’s so hard to be prepared for the Hell Period, and it’s even harder if you just don’t know about it.

What are signs the Hell Period is ending?

It’s not very easy to tell the Hell Period is ending. Like I said above, the off ramp is hard for us to see. But I’ll do my best to offer some things you can look for.

Signs:

-HPPs (Hell Period pigeons) tend to molt during this time, and I think they tend to molt closer to the end of the Hell Period than the beginning

-More good days than bad days, however that exhibits

-Less window-gazing

-More interest in social behaviors, whether with you or other pigeons

-A decrease in how easily they are startled

-Spending more time on the floor

-Regaining some food motivation

-Decreased unmanageable aggression

-Increase in courtship behaviors

You may be uncertain whether or not your pigeon is pulling out of the HP for quite some time, and then one day realize that it happened while you weren’t looking. It’s a strange process.

The Hell Period is the hardest part of maturation, but it isn’t the only part.

Puberty Part Two: It’s Not Easy Being Beautiful

When the Hell Period ends, it is at about that time they are sexually mature - they can reproduce, have offspring - way more than you think they should be capable of, in fact.

But they’re not done yet. Which is normal. Many species do not stop “baking” the second we become physically capable of producing offspring - humans are one of them. We continue changing years after we check that capability box. The same for dogs (which can take years to drop their chests) or deer (who don’t reach their physical prime well past being capable).

So what’s going on, then? How does this affect us?

The short of it is this: it’s mostly the boys, as far as I can tell. And it makes them bastards.

What’s their deal?

I don’t know exactly what is happening in there, hormone wise. But males change significantly in their first 2 years - they don’t seem to hit their full size until sometime around then. And that’s a bit conservative. It may be a bit more like 2 and a half to 3.

But at the very least, by 2 years they have enough nailed down that they’re not so much.

A young male is a handful. He needs to be managed. He needs attention at all times, and if he doesn’t get it, he may be unruly. He follows the rules less. He’s generally more aggressive for no reason. He shows off all the time.

This may sound familiar.

But an adult male is more reserved. He spends more time in his nest box with his spouse. He causes less problems in the flock. He is doing the managing. And, at his age, unless he’s tragically outmatched, he has the body mass to back it up.

Because of the size difference a male can experience between the different points of his life, if you are putting a harness, flyper, or pants on him, it's important that the fit be monitored as he grows larger. That, or wait until he reaches full size to get him one.

The body mass difference between a 6 month old, 1 year old, and 2 and a half year old male at different points in his life can be pretty staggering.

So people can wonder: why can’t my boy calm down? How do I make him relax?

When will my boy chill???

The tentative consensus is that it takes at least 2 years for a male pigeon to finish baking, aka, let his hormones settle down. Again, it might be quite a bit more than that.

Theoretically, he should be getting better and calmer that whole time. Maybe he will backslide here and there when his hormones jump.

But in my experience, a 1 year old is more tolerable than a 6 month old, and a 1 and a half year old is more tolerable than a 1 year old, and a 2 year old is more- you get it.

He will calm down. He won’t always be so excitable. I can’t say that I have a lot of advice for you here. But maybe it will help knowing that like any bouncy puppy, he won’t stay that way forever.

Other fun facts:

The temperaments of pigeons are not the only things that change through their physical maturation!

As I mentioned, their body mass/weight increases with age - up to a certain point.

The feather quality of adult birds is also markedly different (and better) than that of juveniles. With an experienced eye you can sometimes guess between under 3 months old, 6 months to a year old, and above a year, by the difference. Adults are much sleeker than babies, who look more “fuzzy.”

Eye pigment brightness apparently reaches peak brightness at about a year old, but you can tell what it is pretty early on. A couple months. Of course, this brightening only occurs in the wild type (orange) eyes and pearl eyes, and not bull eyes.

If you enjoy my posts, please consider tipping me on ko-fi!

[hsslilly-blog]

hello yes i am back with another ask.

do you have any ideas about how claire’s mother was raised? i assume something would’ve had to normalized being a terrible human being

Hi, yes, I do! Sorry for taking long to reply, I wanted to write this properly. This ended up a bit long, I think.

Before writing anything, I feel like I should preface with: I don't want to villainize Claire's parents (esp. her mother) to the point of them being cartoonishly evil because 1. that's not how humans work; and 2. it's boring, from a writing standpoint. I'm interested in exploring them as people + their relationship with Claire. A child doesn't attach to a parent (or any figure) just by them being, well, bad. This is true of Blair's mother, too.

Christine Murray, Claire's mother, was born in June 15th, 1966. Her parents, Ava (née Ballantine) and Blair Murray, had immigrated from Scotland to the United States a couple of years prior and had settled around the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles County; which Christine would call home for most of her life. The SFV saw a postwar boom, with a huge population increase + job offers; lots of empty acres for people to build homes, too. I mention this for contextualisation: the Murrays (in Scotland) had been a working class family for many years and in the U.S. Christine's father worked himself to death for better opportunities for his wife + daughter.

Christine had an okay relationship with both her parents, if only distant. They were not in bad terms and she would say her mother was a caring woman and her father was a hardworking man; they just weren't close, and they worked all the time. They were very stuck in their ways, and were rather strict. Her mom was a midwife, her father landed a job as an insurance agent.

From a very early age, Christine developed an interest in the arts, especially acting + dancing. She was particularly drawn to Shakespeare (she fell in love with Orson Welles' Macbeth) and she would take part in her school's low-budget productions of whatever play they were putting on during that season. Her father would give her some spare money sometimes, and she used it to watch whichever film was screening in Panorama City. She was very... free. Her parents let her roam around unsupervised a lot. Not good for a 16 year old girl.

Growing up in the 70s and then the 80s, I think she watched some pretty good films. Her biggest dream was to be in the silver screen. The Red Shoes and The Way We Were were some of her favourite movies back then. I think she still likes Cabaret (which is a love she shared with Claire). Paris, Texas, too.

Christine also liked rollerblading and magazine collecting (like, teen magazines; she would trade them with her friends and cut out her favourite parts/pictures/articles and glue them to her bedroom wall and/or store it in a folder). She loooved the Carpenters. She loved thrifting clothes too.

Christine's passions were not supported by her parents, though. I don't think they did it out of malice, they just didn't "get" why their daughter was so interested in acting and movies instead of "planning her future". For them, Christine should get a good job and make her own money and be financially independent. What was she going to do when they were gone? There is no time for art. So, Christine didn't get the chance to pursue her acting career seriously and by senior year of high school she had given up on the idea. Her father dies three months after her 18th birthday. She settles with being a nurse. She gets an associate's degree.

She meets Claire's father, Werner Swanson Jr., by the end of 1987. She was a nurse in his office (he was/is a psychiatrist), so she worked under him. They get married in 1988. They were 13 years apart, not to mention the huge class + academic disparity between them. Claire is born in February 14th, 1990, when Christine is 23. She had to adapt to a new life, very quickly, while very young.

I think this is a good picture of Claire's mother. I don't want to dissect every bit because I think when put in context it all makes a lot of sense. Her unhealthy work/performance mindset, the weird relationship to food, detachment to/insufficiency with Claire, etc. When Claire shows an interest in acting, Christine decides she Must support her (whose?) dreams. She didn't get that chance, so Claire should get. But, well, life is more complicated than that. And baby Claire is, like, a person, too.

That's it... this is very long. But if you have any follow-up questions I'm happy to answer!!!

[wildflowerwoodsworld]

Wild's Black Clover Fic Recs Part Two

This is part two of the list, but I'm putting all the same stuff that was at the top of the other list here too. This is the shippy list

So, I've seen a lot of these floating around over the years and they all seem to have the same dozen fics on them, so I want to try and highlight some of the lesser known fics in this fandom I love alongside some of the more well-known ones. (Note: I have done my best to avoid reccing more than three/four fics by the same person to make sure plenty of authors make it onto the list, not just the popular ones)

This is not just my tastes, I have asked a lot of other people in this fandom for their own fic recs to compile into this list.

Disclaimer: despite my best attempts to be unbiased with this list, I'm human. There are some amazing fics that I haven't personally read bc they contain my NOTPs or tags I don't like or they just squick me out. This is not a complete list of fics in the fandom you should read. This is a list of fics I, and my friends, like.

I will also not be including any purely smut fics on this list.

Wordcounts have been rounded to the nearest 1000 words. They might be slightly longer or slightly shorter than the wordcount listed.

With that being said, let's get into it!

Popular Ship Fics

The Plan by ThisHopeIsADangerousThing

Rating: M Ships: YamiChar Length: 48k When Yami kisses Charlotte in an attempt to win a bet, he's unaware that their colleagues, families and friends think that he's proposed, and equally unaware that he was the cause of her broken heart. Going along with the engagement seems like the easiest solution until he discovers three things: a violent plot against the kingdom, a secret organisation hidden in plain sight and his growing feelings for her.

Not a Wink by eclipsingbinary

Rating: T Ships: YamiFin Length: 4k Finral remembers Yami saying that he couldn't sleep a wink after Finral was hurt during the Royal Knights tournament. But Yami threatens to murder him most days, so Finral would be forgiven for thinking that Yami's exaggerating as normal. Yami isn't.

Broken Angel by Acacia_May

Rating: T Ships: Astelle Length: 5k Noelle Silva was used to being told what she couldn’t do. As a magicless child born inexplicably to the Royal House of Silva, her family had taken great care to hide her and her lack of mana from the rest of the world. However, despite being told over and over again that she would never amount to anything more than her family’s shameful secret, Noelle never gave up her dream to become a magic knight. When she joins the Black Bulls and meets Asta, an orphan from Hage who dreams of being the Wizard King despite his mana-draining magic having left him a social outcast, she begins to develop a new dream: a dream to fight by his side and to protect him just as he has always rushed to her defense and always watched over her like a guardian angel. But all dreams come at a price… Written for Astelle Week 2022. Rated for action sequences & thematic elements. Thank you for reading!! <3

Black Clover Soulmate Tattoo AU (Series) by Oighear

Rating: M Ships: Astelle, Nozessa, Zobra, YamiWill, Finral/Finesse Length: 685k In a world where magic is everything, there is one thing even magic can't do anything about: Fate. As Fate inks the soulmates' first words to each other on their skins, the humans who are toyed with struggle to come to terms with what it means to have their destinies tied together. Diverges from canon from the Spade Invasion

Last of the real ones (Ongoing) by Willows_Bend (Katy_Stark)

Rating: T Ships: Magluck, YamiFin Length: 14k An AU where Magna, Vanessa, and Finral are all petty criminals in Clover City, and the rest of the Black Bulls are police. They're pretty harmless and more irritating than anything else. Still, the law is the law. But until Clover City Police Department manage to get hard evidence of their crimes, they're off the hook - at least as far as Police Captain Yami Sukehiro is concerned. Though, this is the first time Magna has actually had to use Plan C.

The Dragon and the Mage by CloversDreams

Rating: T Ships: MagLuck Length: 7k Every few days like clockwork the hotheaded mage showed up and challenged him to a fight. Luck hadn’t turned him down once. No matter how many times he lost, or Luck broke those silly glasses he wore, the guy always declared he’d return. And he did. Luck had started to anticipate his arrival. Their battles were a surprising amount of fun. The mage learned from all their previous scuffles and tried to trip him up, but Luck’s battle instinct was on a level all its own. He wouldn’t lose. It was probably around the six or seventh time that Luck actually greeted the mage with a ‘hello, human’. He was immediately attacked with a fireball and told not to call the guy that. Luck smiled from ear to ear as he easily dodged the flames. He moved lightning fast until he was nose to nose with the mage. He had a wild look in his wide eyes when he asked what he should call the human then. A grin spread across his face when he actually received an answer. Then he sent the guy flying backwards with one punch. This ordeal continued for weeks and Luck hadn’t tired of it yet. Humans were boring. Except for one. Luck rather liked the tenacious fire mage called Magna.

Of Course It's You by CloversDreams

Rating: T Ships: MagLuck Length: 4k Soulmates. The idea was a whisper which traveled along a breeze that stopped every now and again to tell its tale to random passersby. The concept was so obscure these days that it was nearly forgotten to history. Those that did recall never spoke of it. Most brushed it off without a second thought. The idea wasn’t widely recognized since society deemed it ridiculous. And for good reason, too. According to legend, there was only one known way to identify soulmates, which was by a mark that appeared on both of them. It might’ve been reasonable enough if not for the conditions necessary for the mark to appear. This was where things got so ludicrous that no one could bring themselves to accept that the tales were based in truth. According to the whispers upon the wind, soulmarks didn’t activate until the pair fell in love. Ridiculous. Absolute nonsense. Whose brilliant idea was that?

Over My Heart by JohnnyCremains

Rating: T Ships: MagLuck Length: 1k The names on their skin may have been the mana’s way of pointing out those who would impact them, but it was up to them to determine how. Magna has thought about things more than he’d like to admit.

Darker yet Darker by Ccaprico

Rating: Not Rated Ships: YamiChar Length: 1k Because darkness will always do what darkness does best: corrupt.

Keeping Score by solarwitchwrites

Rating: M Ships: YamiFin Length: 92k Even people who've known Yami for less than five minutes usually agree that he's an ass. Those who've known him a bit longer usually tack on, 'sadistic bastard.' If they really know him, they might throw in that he's a decent guy underneath it all, but that's what they always start with. By contrast, Yami is probably the only person who would use those terms to describe Finral. Then again, so far as Yami knows, he's the only one Finral's really shown that side to. Though he's gotten a bit snarkier with the Bulls. It almost makes Yami pity all the girls who only see the playboy routine. The real Finral is a hell of a lot more fun to mess with. (A while back on tumblr I posted a YamiFin headcanon about Finral secretly being a little shit, and this is the fic-child of that headcanon. Basically, the Keeping Score ficverse is a bunch of oneshots wherein Yami and Finral start out as friends who mess with each other as a running joke, and eventually become lovers who mess with each other as a running joke.)

Green, Pink, and Grayscale by juviin

Rating: G Ships: Astelle Length: 3k Soulmates are a thing of the past, or at least, they should be. So why does the youngest child of the royal Silva family see no colors? Asunoe Soulmate AU where you can't see color until you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Rarepair Fics

Marriage Mishap (ongoing) by nodanova15

Rating: T Ships: SilverMantis Length: 26k Nozel snapped. “I’m already married.” The lie came unexpectedly easy, and the second his words caught up with him, he cursed himself. “What?” To his side, Fuegoleon startled, eyes wide, and mouth slightly gaping. “What!?” Nebra looked far worse than his cousin. “What do you mean— You’re married!?” Or Nozel gets caught up on a lie that drags none other than the notorious Jack The Ripper into his (personal)life.

wildest dreams (because falling's not the problem) (Series) by IAmStoryteller

Rating: M Ships: YunoMimoLang Length: 85k I accidentally started a Yuno/Langris/Mimosa series, oops.

distance (Crossover) by Funky_Sea_Cryptid

Rating: T Ships: RuMagLuck Length: 26k Magna Swing is reaped for the 64th Annual Hunger Games. The odds were never in his favor to begin with.

(i think) i love you by Falahime

Rating: M Ships: YamiNacht Length: 10k Yami woke, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, and just stared at the ceiling. Okay, just because he was having the most vivid wet dreams he’d had since he was a teenager (which was also when he met Nacht, but that had to be coincidence, right?) did not mean he was in love with the guy— With an irritated groan, Yami grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his face and let out a yell, trying to smother the sound and himself both. Rating: M Ships: YamiNacht Length: 10k Yami woke, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, and just stared at the ceiling. Okay, just because he was having the most vivid wet dreams he’d had since he was a teenager (which was also when he met Nacht, but that had to be coincidence, right?) did not mean he was in love with the guy— With an irritated groan, Yami grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his face and let out a yell, trying to smother the sound and himself both.

"It's Called Breakfast, Stupid." by bvchivtvriko

Rating: T Ships: YamiJack Length: 4k The rituals are intricate, and Jack's deciding to slice them up a bit.

The Awful Edges Where You End by Bean_Market_Mafia, Funky_Sea_Cryptid

Rating: M Ships: YamiNacht Length: 63k Seven years after he gained a gruesome gift that he didn’t want, Yami Sukehiro moves from a temp job in San Francisco into a broken-down estate in Maine. It’s expensive and busted to hell, but it’s a place that finally, finally seems empty. This kind of story only goes one way. Watch to see if the silverware has turned black. Watch to see if the table has begun to rot. If the blood from the wall starts to glisten like oil and decay, the door will be lost to you, and you will be left with nothing but your sins to contend with.

I Can't Say Anything Clever, But Let's Chase a Cat Together by JadeGM

Rating: T Ships: YamiMorgen Length: 3k In which the Black Bulls' hideout actually is haunted, and Luck can vaguely sense/hear ghosts. ...Gordon can do it too, but nobody can hear him most of the time, so it barely comes up.

Thawing Of A Frozen Heart by eclipsingbinary, Firefutte

Rating: T Ships: YunoLang Length: 48k Daily News Exclusive: Business Scandal of the Century The esteemed owners of Vauditren Real Estate and Industrial Developments, Ledior and Liliane Vaude, were arrested at their city penthouse yesterday evening. The billion dollar company and its assets have been frozen as part of the police investigation. At the time of going to press, further details have not not been made public. A police spokesman declined our request for an interview. There has been no official comment from the company's public relations department. Board members, including the Vaudes' son and heir, Langris Vaude, were unreachable. -- Finral read the article one more time. This was bad. This was very bad. (The story where Langris Vaude loses everything, and gains more than he ever thought he could have.)

my song, my sorrow, and i (Ongoing, Crossover) by Funky_Sea_Cryptid

Rating: T Ships: Fuegoleon/Salamander Length: 47k After repeated failures, and with his devotion to the God he worships waning, Fuegoleon Vermillion is given one last chance to prove himself.

the fabula crepidata (Ongoing) by Bean_Market_Mafia

Rating: M Ships: Fuegoleon/Salamander Length: 46k With his confidence in his abilities shattered after losing his arm, Fuegoleon is enlisted to take on a case that hits a little too close to home.

The Hangover by subtleassiduities

Rating: T Ships: Solid/Langris, Silva Family Length: 13k After waking up in a strange predicament with a certain Vaude, Solid flounders to figure out what he did during a blackout while also dealing with an unexpected obstacle: A crush. He achieves neither goal with ease, but he does achieve both!

Black Heart Scarring Darker Still by AvaCelt

Rating: T Ships: William/Patri Length: 2k William knows he's a coward, but even cowards can love, and if Zenon wants to hurt the other half of his heart, then William has no problem becoming the Devil himself. [William/Patolli, canon divergence, spoilers up to chapter 262]

Heart of the Ocean, Love of the Sea by AvaCelt

Rating: T Ships: YamiJack Length: 2k Four hundred pounds of muscle and a sword don't mean anything anymore, but lesser men have loved and been loved in return, so why can't Yami Sukehiro? [Yami/Jack, post-rescue, canon divergence, spoilers up to chapter 262]

Hey, Little Songbird, Cat Got Your Tongue? by AvaCelt

Rating: T Ships: LumiNero, Nero & The Bulls Length: 2k Secre Swallowtail atones for her sins by looking after a family of misfits. Somewhere in Hell, Zagred laughs at her, and Secre finds herself laughing with him. [one-sided Secre/Lumiere, parental!Secre & Asta, parental!Secre & the Black Bulls, canon compliant but explores Black Clover demon lore]

Crossing the Line by eclipsingbinary, WildflowerWoods

Rating: M Ships: YunoLang, Langris & the Golden Dawn, Finral & Langris As a the out of favour Vaude son, his useless spatial magic would never be what his family desired, no matter how hard he tried to force it into shapes it would never become. His long-term survival depended on being of use, and as he reached grimoire age, his use was rapidly running out. He knew they would never let him reach fifteen. Somehow, against the odds, he survives and works out how to live a life that he never expected to have. There are people who help him find a place in a new family where he is loved. He has a squad and a future, even if he is never without the consequences of that last night in Tota. Then the death of the King brings history crashing into the life he made for himself, and with it comes the brother he never expected to see again.

Oh What Am I Supposed to Do Without You? by supernaturalgrant

Rating: T Ships: FuegoNozel Length: 13k “Mercury poisoning.” The silence that follows Owen's statement is deafening. The occupants of the room share looks of utter confusion. “That’s like saying Fuegoleon has third-degree burns from that cool ass fire arm situation he has going on.” Yami’s the first to break it. Or: Nozel is diagnosed with mercury poisoning and forced to give his magic up until the can find a cure. Chaos ensues.

Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor by supernaturalgrant

Rating: T Ships: FuegoNozel Length: 17k “He’s dumb as fuck.” She asserts bluntly. It surprises an honest laugh out of Nozel, which seems to amuse her slightly. “You know that, right?” “I can’t force him to be with me, Mereoleona. Even I am not that high-reaching.” He tells her honestly. Or- Fuegoleon and Nozel break up when Nozel is promoted to the Silver Eagles captain, neither of them really knows why.

[absolutelyzoned]

every time a stoic closed off male character is written as a perverted freak an angel blows their brains out

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[fritzes]

andy roddick the tennis world doesn't deserve you

[barbatos-sama]

something that kinda bothered me was that when the mc met citali they acted surprised by the concept that someone could be real old but look young. you've met so many immortals how on earth does it confuse you by this point. i'm about to name every character i know in this game who is over 100 years old let's go:

zhongli: 6000+ (stated clearly in lore)

ganyu/xianyun/xiao: 3700+ (were all present when guizhong died 3700 years ago)

venti: 2600+

ei: 2000+ (archon war ended around 2k years ago and it's inferred makoto was the original electro archon)

nahida/furina/neuvillette/scara/miko/albedo/sigewinne: 400-500+ (stated in lore/inferred like miko having 5 tails, kitsune having 1 tail per century they've lived)

faruzan/qiqi: exact age bracket unclear but 100+ at least

did u like forget you met half the characters in this game my man

[unnerving-presence]

lowkey annoying how the same people who say “wesker would not say he loves you” and accuse people who say that of making wesker ooc are the same people who genuinely think he’d kill you for interacting with him, which is also ooc