#it is a borrowed part of my artwork

[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

[callofdudes]

What are you reading??

A/N: this was requested by @thicc-plum so I hope y'all enjoy my friend. This took way too long, please let me know if you catch any spelling mistakes.

This includes 141, Alejandro & Rodolfo.

Summary: The reader gets caught reading a smut book and the boys tease the hell out of her.

CW: Brief depictions of sexual interactions, the boys 'teasing' you.

Y'all really want a part 2 huh... I've made you a lil part 2 for y'all.

You were sitting alone at a table in the canteen. Lunch was almost over but you hadn't busied yourself with food. You were sitting in the corner with one of your books in hand. You always loved to read, but this book in particular you had refrained from reading around the others. It was... A different kind of book. Not one with little swordsmen going on long adventures to sweep away their friends from the perils of danger.

It was one with tension, heat. The kind that nestled in your stomach and bubbled up through your chest, making you feel a small, almost tangible piece of the intimacy you read about.

You were engrossed in the book. The atmosphere around you was drowned out as you read.

His hand guided her thigh, skirt riding up past her hip and their eyes met. Their breaths tangled in the warm bedroom, sweat soaking into the sheets-

"What are you reading??"

You gasp and slam your book shut. Your hands tremble as you push it away from you.

Johnny smirks, laughing as he sits down. "Oh you should see your face!"

You scoff. "Not funny Johnny."

Johnny grabs the book from your trembling hands and examines the cover.

"Oh~ what is this risque piece of artwork??" He flips through the pages, reading over some of the sentences. You attempt to grab the book back but Johnny puts his elbow up to keep you away while he reads.

His eyes go wide. "Woah!! That's some descriptive oral- my goodness!"

"Johnny!!" You jump and grab the book back, pulling it to your chest.

Your cheeks go red. "Don't tell the others, please??"

"Depends, can I borrow the book??"

"What are you going to do with it??"

"Read it, obviously. It looks good."

He gives you his signature smirk and you can't help but feel inclined to agree. You grumble under your breath. "whatever, I'll finish and then you can read it. But please return it!!"

Johnny nods. "Of course."

"By the way, you're late for your meeting with Price. You don't want me to tell him you're late because of an innocent little book, would you??"

He grins. "Wouldn't want dear old captain to know you're doing such naughty little things." He squeezes your thigh.

He stands from his chair.

Your cheeks burn redder, but the time manages to take your attention.

You look at your watch and curse. "Don't tell anyone Johnny! I'm serious!!"

He winks at you as he walks away. "You can count on me y/n!"

You grumble and hold your book close. Why on earth would Johnny want to read it?? Was he messing with you?? Or was he actually interested.

You rush out of the canteen and shove your book in your bag. You just hope Johnny wouldn't tell anyone what he saw you reading.

You will admit, yes, you had it coming. You weren't doing your paperwork as it had gotten too boring too quickly and you'd given up for a bit. No one likes doing paperwork. The only ones who didn't complain about it happened to be Price, Ghost, and Gaz. You were none of them.

So you'd kicked up your feet and started to read your book. It was a book you'd gotten on leave and you had kept it fairly secret from the others, it wasn't a book you wanted them to know about.

It was better than doing paperwork. And much more fun.

You must have lost track while reading however, getting too caught up in the endless pages of sticky hot mess.

"He latched onto her neck, sucking a deep hickey into her supple throat. She cried out his name softly into the night, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders-"

There was a knock on the door.

You shot up, scrambling immediately to bring your feet off your desk and straighten up. You slam your book back into the desk drawer.

"Come in!"

Price enters, making you gulp.

"Y/n, we haven't seen you for a while, I wanted to see how things are coming along in here."

He sees the enormous pile of paperwork on your desk and crosses his arms. You immediately look down and away, knowing you would probably be in trouble for this.

He sighs and comes around the corner of the desk, seeing the still open drawer with your book in It. He sees the very risque cover and pulls it out before you can stop him.

"Was this what had your attention??"

You gulp, getting anxious as he flips through the pages.

He hums thoughtfully. He flips the pages and reads through some of the things, his facial expressions changing with each new scenario played out in the book.

He eventually closes it and places it in one of his pockets.

"Captain-"

"Shh, I've seen enough. If this is what you'd like to occupy your time with, very well then."

"I'm sorry."

He tuts. "Be a good girl and finish your paperwork. When you're done, we can discuss this little book of yours."

Your cheeks burn red and you look away.

"Yes Captain."

"That's a good girl."

Price walked off, leaving a heavy feeling in your stomach. You had a weird new motivation to finish your paperwork though.

The evening was quiet and the others were out. It was just you and Gaz on base and you were relishing in the quiet environment. Wrapped up in a blanket, the fireplace crackling a few feet away from you, nothing better.

With a book in hand the world could only be perfect. Your eyes feel tired, even as you read the book that always makes your stomach drop and your emotions rise.

You thought Gaz had gone to bed, so you felt comfortable reading it without the others around. You would always read this book in your room, it never saw the light of day around the guys.

"He whispered low in her ear, nipping at the corner of her lobe. His hands groped down across her collar, fingers tangling in her necklace..."

You continued to read, barely registering the creak of the floorboards. You'd assumed it was the house settling since you hadn't heard the door. Nor had you noticed the shadow bast behind you, soft brown eyes reading each delicately picked word with you.

Suddenly, you feel breathing near your ear. Your heartbeat quickens and your fingers feel tense. The feeling in your stomach growls hotter with each second.

"That seems a little naughty to be reading out here, don't you think sweetheart?"

You jump, nearly screaming as a voice cuts through your concentration, shattering the perfect dream of being wrapped in an embrace just as addictive as the words in your book.

Gaz grins, his hand touching your shoulder and running down your arm to flip the page of the book.

"K-Kyle- I didn't realize you were-"

"Shh. Read it out loud."

Your cheeks turn deep red. "W-what-??"

"Read it out loud to me sweetheart."

Your heart rate quickens and your voice catches in your throat. You want to say yes just as badly as you want to say no. But the way Kyle strokes his thumb over your hand made you willing.

"S-sure..."

Kyle hums. "Good. I think you'll want to finish this next chapter before the others return. You wouldn't want them to hear all the things you've been reading about."

You gulp, but you reluctantly start to read.

You couldn't sleep. So naturally in the early hours of the morning when you figured no one else was awake, you turned to the kitchen for a snack.

You patter through the hallway with your book in hand. You turn on the kitchen light and make yourself some tea to soothe your body, considering you were sore from the lack of sleep.

You sat down at the kitchen table with your tea and opened your book. The cover was bright red with dazzling shiny line work around two figures. One holding the other in a more suggestive manner. Each chapter displaying a new set of characters put through taboo and risque situations. All of them leading to a spicy climax.

Literally.

You sunk into the quiet atmosphere and started to read. Your eyes drowned into the words, hands holding the book firmly.

"He pulled her back, his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. His sneer could almost look evil to anyone who wasn't her. Treated like a doll in his large hands, putting so much trust into his punishments."

You gulp, not realizing how heavy your breathing had gotten until a hand wraps around your throat.

It catches you so off guard you whine. Thumb and forefinger pressing into the sensitive parts under your jaw, making your insides coil and twist.

You bite your lip, hands trembling.

Warm breath whisps over your cheek and Ghost's rough Manchester voice breaks the silence.

"I always knew you were into some weird shit."

His other hand reaches out and takes the book from you, inspecting the cover.

"Ghost-"

His hand tightens on your throat, making you moan quietly.

He hums, flipping through some of the pages.

Your cheeks start to burn, watching out of the corner of your eye as he flips. You can't see his face, you can't gauge his reaction. All you know is his hand is wrapped so nicely around your throat, body hidden in the shadows it makes you feel as small as the girl in the story.

He gets to a certain page and chuckles. "You are into some weird shit."

You grab his wrist, wanting to pry him away and wanting him closer. It feels like a dream how it is all playing out, you are scared you want more.

He places the book down and squeezes your throat, getting another soft moan out of you.

He lets go and chuckles. "I could do better than he can."

It makes you want to pass out. He lets you go and when you turn around he's already walking away. Your arms and legs are shaking but you rush after him, wanting to know what he meant.

He doesn't lock his door when he disappears, and you know all too well it's an invitation into the book you'd just been reading.

(also I love this gif, look at Rodolfo just effortlessly toss that crate- boy you are amazing and I love you)

Look, everyone on base knew you were a little freaky at times. It was no secret to anyone. And it also wasn't a secret you might have a teensy tiny little thing for your colonel and the sergeant major.

That was not the point however.

You had just finished up a long day of training with the Vaqueros. You'd been out all afternoon, which was why you were a bit surprised you were being called into Alejandro and Rodolfo's office for a little chat.

What this chat was about, you weren't entirely sure.

But you finished up your routines and set off for their office.

You knock on the door, hearing Alejandro's voice beckon you in. When you open the door you're greeted by both Alejandro and Rodolfo. Alejandro is sitting while Rodolfo is standing next to him with something in his hands.

You would know that velvet patterned trophy book anywhere.

Your blood turns cold.

"Take a seat y/n." Alejandro smiles at you with that smile. The one that makes your heart flutter and your stomach flop.

You nod and take a seat. "What's this about?"

Rodolfo leans over and places the book in front of you. "Look familiar? It has your name written on the inside cover."

You gulp and nod, your cheeks going a bit red. "Yes sir sergeant, I know the book quite well."

"I think you would, considering how worn it, must get read a lot."

By now Rodolfo has come around to your side, one hand snaking up your arm to your shoulder and squeezing the muscles.

You gulp again.

Alejandro opens the book and flips through the pages. "Such a filthy book y/n, there's only one reason you could read this book so much."

You look away bashfully.

"Does it give you a high, Y/n??"

"N-no colonel!"

Alejandro stands and flips to a certain page. He taps the frame of the book and bends down in front of you, guiding your gaze back to his with his thumb and forefinger.

"Care to explain this then?"

You look down at the page he points to, you know it well. Rereading it over and over. It had crinkled edges from your sweaty fingers and dirt makes from the small traces your nails would leave.

You reread the words you practically knew by heart.

"She cries loudly, voice broken into sobs. The man behind her keeps a firm grip in her hair and tugs her back against him. The second man gazes down into her teary eyes, letting her breathe a fresh breath of air before plunging back into her throat."

Your cheeks were red enough, tainted deeper when you saw the scribbled names of your colonel and sergeant major at the bottom of the page.

Rodolfo's hand curls in your hair, his soft voice near your ear. "Considere esto su castigo por leer tal suciedad."

Your brow wobbles, but you can't run from them, you never could.

[cinnbar-bun]

Would you be willing to write what kind of fan would ace, sabo, shanks, and law for the reader!! I loved your last one!!!

You got it dude! Sorry for taking so long.

Ace, Sabo, Law, and Shanks- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious, SFW

Part 1 with Straw Hats here!

Ace

Broke ass guy who can’t afford anything for you minus like, a bootleg or something small. Has buttons of you. 

Highkey think he would be a menace and just wear something so off with you on it (you are free to decide what that looks like). 

If people ask why he’s got you on his phone or like a keychain of you, he just beams and responds that you’re the love of his life and refuses to elaborate. 

Lies, he WILL be elaborating and making it everyone’s problem. 

Marco wants him to shut up about it. 

Thatch jokes around often and makes cakes of you for Ace on his birthday or something. Ace refuses to eat it for like two seconds before he’s quickly trying to fight off the others from taking a slice. 

Whitebeard has not realized you’re fictional and still asks about meeting you soon… he just wants to meet the one his son keeps raving about. 

Ace has to lie and it becomes a whole ‘my partner is in Canada, actually they can’t see you now.’ 

Whitebeard is so impressed with the fact you travel all over the world <3 wow, you must be so worldly! 

Sabo 

Rich boy who I don’t think would directly get merchandise of you, but he would totally buy things that have your signature color or remind him of you. Very subtle things. I could see him buying one expensive figure of you, but otherwise it’s just subtle things he will proudly wear in public. 

Doesn’t have much time for gaming, so I don’t think he would be playing the mobile gacha games but he will admire the artwork and units of you. 

This is actually a partial truth, he had them at one point but was sinking so much money into your units that Koala had to step in and get him to stop this addiction. 

He’s been doing his best okay… but your alt unit is so tempting he wants to GET IT HE NEEDS TO GET IT LET HIM ROLL ONE MORE ONE MORE ONE MORE- 

Sabo’s phone is now under parental controls and he needs Koala or Dragon’s permission to download or buy any in-app purchases. 

But he’s like, so normal about this, okay? He doesn’t have a problem.

Likes to eat your favorite snacks or food on your birthday as a sort of ‘celebration’ of you. Again, pretty subtle things like buying a dessert you like from that one bakery, or ordering a meal that you ate one time on the show. 

On second thought I could see him having special editions of the manga, but that remains in his office never to be borrowed by anyone. 

Law 

“Why the hell would I be into this?” 

Acts like he’s above watching cringe animes when he’s got better taste in his consumption of media like House MD or Scrubs or something. 

But you know, he’s always getting dragged into silly shit with his friends so everyone is forcing him to watch this popular anime with over 1000+ episodes. 

Law feels like performing surgery on himself with no anesthesia at the sheer number of episodes. 

It isn’t until like 400 episodes in when you’re introduced and everyone swears they can see the light in his eyes return and he’s entranced. 

Suddenly this is his favorite show, although he refuses to entertain that. 

He totally has a few figures of you, but when asked, he just yells that they’re Bepo’s and he’s keeping them safe. 

The others know he’s not going to buy merch so they just buy him silly trinkets of you and he tries to keep lowkey and hidden so no one knows about his love for you. 

He’s not the same man he was 400 episodes ago. He still can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one. 

But you’ve invaded and latched yourself into his mind and damn it, he’ll keep you there. 

Shanks 

Cringe but free. 

Buggy got him into this show (Buggy made a slip up once and has tried to deny that he’s liked this series since) and Shanks casually watches a few episodes when he’s free. 

Has a couple of figures that a kid Uta always wants to play with (hell no, put that shit back!!!) 

Lies to Uta whenever she asks who this figure is of and he dramatically will hold the figure of you and tell her this is, in fact, who her other parent is. 

Great job, Shanks, you weirdo. Of course, Uta knows when she’s older that he’s lying out of his ass, but when she was younger she was deadset on meeting you. 

So Shanks was forced to include her in his watches so she can see her ‘other parent’. Shanks makes wild stories when Uta asks why you’re in the TV and says you’re so so cool they just had to make a tv show about you. 

He’s the kind of guy who forgets Uta is a kid and whenever something super violent or adult happens, he goes ‘oops’ after a few seconds and shoddily covers her eyes, to the point she can pretty much still see everything. 

So both of them kinda get in a feedback loop where when he gets something, she wants it, and when she wants to do something, he’ll do it when it comes to you. 

You are a staple in that household. Shanks isn’t the best at maintaining your figures but he does remember to dust you off once in a while (mostly after Uta screams at him to keep it in good condition). 

He’s tried to get into the card game (Uta insisted), but he finds the rules too hard and difficult, so him and Uta made an easier version (which he often lies about to be able to win). 

His luck is crappy too when it comes to the blind packs, so when Uta got the rare card of you he was practically gonna wrestle it out of her. 

He’s also weird and rich enough to get any crazy or out there merchandise of you if he felt like it.

[lostzilla2991]

First off, this was originally meant to be my art for Diakko Day. However, I had another idea that I loved even more, and I didn’t want it to seem like I was spamming the day with my artwork.

Secondly, I thought I was being clever with the text here, but it turns out my brain just borrowed phrasing from a fic I read. So, in good conscience, I can’t post this without giving credit. The fic is part of

MemoryMonkey’s amazing series Diana ♥ Akko. No, I’m not telling you when or how. Go read the whole series, you cowards!

[annwrites]

⸻ peonies & passion. ⸻

· pairing: queen maeve x fem!reader · type: one-shot · summary: maeve's usual assistant is out sick for the day & you're assigned in her place. unbeknownst to you, maeve always looks forward to the few & far between times when you replace the woman...so she can see you again. · tags: soft, sapphic romance, fluff, pining, cuddling, kissing · word count: 2,569

She knows she makes you nervous. But, in truth, while you're busy mentally beating yourself black and blue for stumbling over your words and two left feet because of her presence, it only serves to endear you to her all the more.

She likes how easily she can make you blush with only a playful wink, or by nudging you with her shoulder. She also likes the smell of your perfume, which reminds her of peonies, and that, even when you're gone, the scent of you still lingers where her skin has brushed against your own.

She likes when she catches you shyly staring at her, only to look away embarrassed when her eyes meet yours.

She likes your quiet voice and lovely laugh.

She likes.

She likes.

She likes...you.

Maggie always dreads this part of the day: the end of it. Well, only when you're once again in each other's company, that is.

Because, once it ends, unless her usual assistant calls out again come tomorrow—and she's definitely secretly hoping that she will—it will be an undetermined amount of time before she sets eyes, or gently brushing fingertips upon you again.

She wonders, often, if your sheepishness is due to her supe persona, or her.

She wonders if you like girls.

But she can't just come out and ask that, because she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. And God-forbid you take it for sexual harassment. She's not a scumbag like the Deep. She could never hurt or take advantage of you. She never wants you to think otherwise.

Because she...adores you.

Her, one of the strongest women in the world, brought metaphorically to her knees by someone so soft and fragile. But that's exactly why she loves likes you. For all your charming qualities. Physical or otherwise.

"Would you want to stay for a bit?" Maeve asks quietly while removing her diadem.

You blink at her nervously with wide eyes and she fights back a grin at the adorable sight.

"Oh. Is there something else that you need?"

She shakes her head, throwing the jewelry piece onto the coffee table. "Just wanted some company. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?"

You clutch your tablet to your chest and softly shake your head, and she watches as your soft curls cascade over your shoulders.

She wonders if they feel as smooth as they look before her eyes flit back to your own.

"I don't," you reply sweetly, with a kind smile.

She nods toward her bedroom. "I'm going to get changed, then maybe we can order takeout and watch something?"

You smile and nod again.

She grins. "Do you want to borrow something? Just so you're more comfortable?"

You take a step closer. "S-sure."

She nods, then turns back toward the bedroom and you begin to follow along behind her, until she stops and glances to you over her shoulder.

Your eyes flit between hers only briefly before your face turns a shade of crimson. "Right. Sorry. I'll let you change first, then..."

She would have no qualms with you following along after and watching her. Or, much more, letting her undress and dress you in her clothes—or simply undress, so she can admire the piece of artwork she's sure you're hiding beneath your sweater and dress slacks—but she refrains from offering something she's sure will lead to you never coming back here.

To you never coming back to her.

Once Maeve has finished changing into a loose sweater and joggers, she returns to you with a t-shirt and sweatpants resting atop her arms.

She lets her hands brush against yours when she gives them to you.

"You can change in my room, if you want."

You nod silently before glancing to her from under your long lashes and stepping past her with heated cheeks.

She knows it's cliché and maybe a little on-the-nose, but because the story can be construed either way, she streams Fried Green Tomatoes while the two of you eat Chinese takeout.

She glances to you from the corner of her eye, watching as you take a bite of your crab rangoon and she bites back a smile at you being so near her. While wearing her clothes. And in her apartment, at that.

You lean forward and grasp a bit of lo mein between your chopsticks and your hair falls forward—nearly into your food—so she reaches over and tucks it gently behind your ear while allowing her knuckles to graze the warm skin of your cheek.

You glance to her with a mouthful of noodles and she grins broadly at the sight.

Your heart skips a beat.

Once the movie is through, Maeve is reluctant to move, even if she needs to desperately pee.

But she refuses to, because you’ve fallen asleep against her shoulder. Your cheek rests upon the crown of it while your body is pressed firmly into her side as slow, steady breaths escape through your slightly-parted lips. 

She smiles softly to herself at the feel of your warmth before slowly leaning her head to the side to rest atop your own.

She knows it’s dangerous to let herself fantasize about a life she could never have—it only makes the yearning for you ten times worse, as if that’s even possible at this point—but she lets herself anyway. For only a moment.

So she imagines a life where this is what she has to look forward to coming home to every night: you. 

Whether it’s with you in sweats eating junk food and takeout on the couch while watching bad B-movies on TV, or the pair of you lying in bed while she caresses every inch of your body while whispering sweet nothings to you to ensure you never forget how treasured you are by her, she would be content. Because it’s you that she would be sharing every moment with.

And then you stir in your sleep and the fantasy slips away.

You slowly lift your head and blink sleepily at her for a moment.

And all she wants in the entire world is to crush her lips to yours.

But she can’t lose you.

So she merely smiles instead. 

“Evening, sleepy head.”

You sit up suddenly then and your eyes grow wide while you shrink into yourself out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you say quietly.

She shakes her head while standing and gathering up empty Chinese takeout containers to toss in the trash on her way to the bathroom. “Don’t be. You’re exhausted. And I didn’t mind.”

When she returns to you after relieving herself, it’s to you gathering your things. 

“Are…are you leaving?”

You glance to Maeve while shrugging on your cross-body bag. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired. I probably should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”

You blush while shifting nervously on your feet. “I had a nice time tonight. Thanks for dinner. I appreciated it.”

She takes a small step forward, desperate for a reason to keep you a bit longer. As in…all night.

“You could just stay here. If you’d like?”

You merely blink at her, your mind going blank in an instant.

“It’s just that you’re exhausted, like I said, and… I don’t want to have to worry about you on the roads. And I don’t mind if you, y’know, sleep over. I’m no Homelander, so I can’t exactly fly you home, or I would.”

She cringes internally. If that didn’t sound like a pathetic excuse at a come-on, she doesn’t know what would. 

“I don’t want to be a burden, or impose,” you insist.

She shakes her head, padding toward you. “You could never be that to me.”

She runs a hand down your arm, taking your bag from you. “The bedroom is this way.”

“Oh. I could just…” You glance back to the couch, then back to her. “If you have some extra sheets?”

She shrugs slightly. “My bed is more than big enough for two. Besides, what kind of sleepover would it be if I banished you to the other room?”

She throws an arm around your shoulder then, tugging you in the right direction alongside her.

You said goodnight to each other over twenty minutes ago, yet Maeve’s heart is still pattering away in her chest like a goddamn machine gun at the fact that you’re lying in her bed, only a few inches away. 

You’re turned on your side away from her, but she can tell from the depth and rate of your breaths that you’re still awake as well. 

She wants to say something. 

Should she say something? 

If she does…what? 

Maybe you’re on the verge of sleep and her talking will only serve to jolt you back awake. And she doesn’t want you dragging tomorrow, simply for your own sake.

But she has you here. In her bed. She has been desperate for months to see you again and now she has you all to herself.

She won’t waste the opportunity.

“So,” she says quietly. “What did you think they were?”

You slowly open your heavy lids and your brows furrow. “Hm?”

“Idgie and Ruth,” she explains. 

You turn over to face her, and you stare at her while she stares up at the ceiling.

“What about them?”

She folds her hands atop her stomach. “Have you ever wondered if they were more than just friends? I mean, it always came off that way to me in the movie. I don’t know about the book, since I’ve never read it.”

She turns her head to look at you. “Have you?”

You shake your head. 

She remains silent, waiting for your thoughts. Rather, for you to take the hint at what she’s trying to imply.

“Some, I think. Even when I was little, I always thought Idgie was a lesbian. She seemed more butch to me, at least. Like, Ruth was the only person in the whole movie she had eyes for.”

She slides her hand infinitesimally closer to you. “What about Ruth? Do you think she loved Idgie? I mean, I know she did, but I mean in that way.”

Your eyes flit between Maeve’s. “What do you think?”

She slides her hand the least bit closer, ignoring the way it shakes from nerves and uncertainty. “I think she was all Idgie could think about. And that Idgie adored her and…and she would’ve done anything for her just to make her happy and keep her safe. But Ruth… I think, maybe, she was afraid to admit that other part of herself existed. Fully, at least.”

You pulse begins to quicken.

Is Maeve… Is she…

You take a moment, then reply. “I think that Ruth saw Idgie as being stronger than her. And thus out of her league, you might say. And Ruth just…tried to do what was expected of her. Because that’s the way she was raised: to be a perfect, demure young lady who stays quiet and within the lines. She didn’t want to hold Idgie back. Maybe because she feared she could never get to the level of fearlessness Idgie had been at since she was a child. She wanted her to be the free spirit she was always meant to be.”

Maeve finally rests her palm atop the back of your hand. “Maybe Idgie felt like she could only be that when she was with Ruth, though.”

Maeve feels like she might as well turn into a giant fucking cheesewheel at the way she’s talking to you, but you make her that: into a sappy romantic. She just feels like you’re the type who probably has an appreciation for that sort of thing. And she likes when you’re happy, especially from her causing.

“Maeve—”

“My real name is Maggie. Which I think you know already, but you can call me that instead. If you want.”

You swallow thickly, starting again. “Maggie, are you… Do you—”

She finally crosses the threshold she’s been toeing cautiously for months on-end. 

“Like you? What finally gave it away?” She asks with a soft smile before caressing your cheek.

You blanch. “Oh. I…”

You trail off, having no idea how to approach this situation.

Wait.

Is that why she wanted you in her bed? To stay the night? 

You’d thought so differently of her, but instead…she’s just like every other power-hungry celebrity, isn’t she?

Your eyes sting at the sudden realization.

“I’m not… I didn’t come here to…” You grasp for the best way to word this that won’t lose you your job.

Meanwhile, Maggie’s heart shatters.

“Oh. I thought maybe…”

She drops her hand away. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I misread things.”

You both stew in awkward silence for a moment. 

“You don’t think that I’m…”She looks at you again. “I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

You stare at her doubtfully. “You’re not?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, sweetheart. I’m just…”

She sighs. “Alright, here goes: I’m crazy about you. I know the times we see each other are few and far between, but in the interim you’re all I think about. And I’ve been too scared to tell you any of this out of the fear of making you feel uncomfortable or harassed, or out of the risk of never seeing you again.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your stomach quickly fills with butterflies.

Maggie watches appreciatively as your cheeks turn pink, which she can see even in the dim lighting the moon provides only in thin slivers through her bedroom curtains.

“I’ve only ever been with boys before,” you whisper.

She scoots the least bit closer to you. “Maybe I could change that.”

A pause. “Can I kiss you?”

A smile spreads suddenly across your face without warning and her heart warms at the sight.

You nod silently.

Maggie moves even closer until her body is pressed along the length of your own.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek, and then she presses her lips to your own.

And you taste just as sweet as you look and sound and act and smell and… Nothing has ever been as perfect as this moment.

She gently spreads your plush lips with her own before tenderly flicking her tongue against yours and she nearly moans at the sensation.

God, you’re fucking perfect. Everything she’s been waiting for. Her girl.

After a moment, she pulls away and you half-bury your face in a pillow while staring up at her. “Have you and… Well, am I…”

She knows what you’re getting at.

“It’s only you, honey.”

She slowly wraps her arms around you. 

“Only you,” she whispers while pressing a loving kiss to the crown of your head.

You snuggle against her neck, and your eyes slowly flutter closed while a hot tear slips from the corner of your eye. “I’ve waited for so long to do that. I was always scared of what it would be like if I ever tried. I don’t know why I was now.”

She cradles the back of your head in her palm. “You and me both.”

“Why me?” You ask in a whisper. “I mean, you’re you, and I’m just—”

She leans back and grips your chin firmly between her fingertips. 

“Everything I’ve been waiting for,” she replies, cutting you short.

She leans in for another kiss.

[chillentertainer]

Archive Classics: Typesetting Fics

TL; DR: the internet is temporary!!! printed books (for your own private amusement) are forever!!!

What I do:

Basically, I choose fics that I think deserve to be printed and typeset them using a software called Adobe InDesign. InDesign is the professional standard in the industry, but there are definitely easier (and cheaper!) options for formatting.

Once I've chosen a fic, there a few different things I have to decide: the font, glyphs, book size, and the hors-texte (title page, contents, etc).

Then, I go about copy + pasting the text into the software, and formatting them. Usually, that just means deleting the blank space of lines that for some reason appears between paragraphs.

Every element, and I mean every single element, is designed for the reader's comfort. At no point should the reader feel lost or unable to continue because of the way the text is formatted. This means using serif fonts instead of sans-serif fonts for the body text and making sure that there aren't any widows/orphan lines. I have specific justification settings so that the spacing between words and letters are even and smooth to the reader's eye.

I also think about headers and page numbers more than you would expect. Should the page numbers be on top or bottom? Centered or at the corners. Should I have headers at all? And if so, what should they say?

When I began, and I still do this occasionally, I grabbed books off my shelves and examined their formatting. Then I'd question why they made this design choice or that. All publishers have their special little quirks and features, and if I spotted something I liked, I would incorporate that into my own works. For example, Penguin Classics love their classic serif fonts and headers. Barnes and Noble Classics have a feature in their hors-texte that is their "From the Pages Of" section.

My favorite part is creating the cover. If you couldn't tell based off the title "Archive Classics," I *borrowed* Penguin Classic's grid. I love to use paintings or other kinds of artwork (like Étienne-Louis Boullée's architectural drawings for Fractals)

Why I Do This:

While there are many amazing and necessary reasons to read e-books, I enjoy the physicality of a printed book. Nothing can beat the sensation of turning the next page, the smell of paper, or the weight of your next great adventure in your hands. Fanfiction more than deserves to be experienced in that way too.

But also, I've always had a lingering suspicion regarding the temporal nature of digital media and of the internet in general. Fanfiction, in particular, are at risk of disappearing forever, and while you can obvs download it (which I always always do), there's a slight chance that you may not be able to access the technology in order to view it. Books don't require laptops or phones or internet service.

It's a silly movie, but Leave the World Behind (2023) showcases this perfectly, albeit with streaming services and dvds.

Finally, with the ever-changing landscape of the internet and technology, who knows if say archaeologists would be able to access ao3 in a 100 or even 50 years. Look at USB-As, and how quickly they're going out of use. Physical media like printed books will certainly last for decades longer. My ultimate (and idealistic) goal is to have a physical, printed library of fanfiction for both private enjoyment and for the academic study of fanfiction in the anthropological and literary fields. The latter will most likely not happen in my lifetime (if ever at all), but a girl can dream!

Copyright

This is slightly sketchy but from what I can tell from my research is that most sites don't give an af if you print like one copy for yourself and you do not print en-masse or start selling them. So like Manacled. Don't do what those kids did and put up your copies on etsy. I don't. I print this for myself and myself only. And I've never gotten a cease and desist letter or anything like that.

Requests are open: if you have a fic you think deserves the archive classics treatment, lmk! I do not accept payment. This is all free.

Examples!

A Current Cover I'm Working On:

This one is a linen wrap, which means it has flaps!

[daeyumi]

Ok, I maybe have something else to ask you...

I was lost in the magnificence of your character sheets (seriously, the way you nail every single one of your artworks needs to be studied) and I noticed that the Triforce is on Ganondorf's right hand and Zelda's left hand, so I was wondering if he's the wielder of wisdom and she's the wielder of courage ? And does that mean the Triforce will be on Link's forehead and he will be the wielder of force (which would be so sick) or did I miss an information ?

Once again, awesome art !

thank u so much for the question!! i’m afraid the answer isn’t quite as interesting though haha, their triforce symbols are just on their dominant hands (zelda is left handed and ganondorf is right handed). since my au plays around with a lot of the conventions of zelda storytelling tropes, i decided i wanted to keep each of the 3 triforce wielders with their “usual” alignment; so zelda and ganondorf remain as the holders of the triforce of wisdom and power respectively.

but actually, that is one of the things that inspired my au in the first place— with link, specifically. my au was heavily inspired by my theories about botw before the game’s release (also why i ended up borrowing a lot of the similar look of the sheikah tech for my au)— and one of my biggest theories from that time stemmed from 2 things: link’s loss of memory, and the fact that he didn’t have the triforce symbol on his hand. so i thought, what if the reason he doesn’t remember anything is because he was created as a stand in for the hero (and thus had no memories from before the time he was created), and that’s the reason why he doesn’t have the triforce symbol either?

now of course we know that those things didn’t actually end up being a thing in botw, but it always stuck in my mind as kind of an interesting “what if”.

to answer the last part of your question, link in my au does not have the triforce symbol on his hand (or any part of his body) even though they do wield the triforce of courage; because they were created for this purpose. the triforce symbol manifests itself on born wielders of its pieces. (i guess technically zelda could have put one on his hand when she created him, but she had much larger issues to work through when trying to bioengineer a living hylian lol.)

thanks again for the ask!!

[vaelzz]

It feels so odd to be treated with kindness and respect. I think people do themselves a disservice by keeping dismissive, toxic or downright negative friends, family or romantic interests in their lives. On the other hand I know how isolating it can be to cut it all out and just be left with your own thoughts in an endless echo chamber debating that you might actually be the toxic/negative, that you might be overly sensitive or perhaps selfish/narcissistic for feeling hurt over people downplaying or wilfully ignoring something you've achieved…

In worst cases downright insulted and degraded which I personally have always understood as people projecting their own insecurities and envy which helps ignore it sure but even still when it is persistent it slowly wears you down over time and serves as a way to validate your own internal negative thinking about yourself. I'd think I'd only care about what I truly think but then I'd simply let myself be exposed to negativity until it's literally hardwired into my very being and being told positive things is met with a lot of internal resistance because I truly don't believe it. The worst part is that I feel guilty for not truly appreciating kindness or affection which makes me anxious because I am unable to reciprocate and I understand it's not supposed to be like a transaction but when someone is genuinely nice to me I just melt into a puddle of confusion. This is all internal though because on the outside it's easiest to just say "Thanks!" and move on because exposing the issues I see can be seen as attention seeking or just simply draining to people which will be met with frustration and resistance from them.

But again it just feels so bizarre to have someone be genuinely appreciative. The screenshot attached to this post is an old artwork of mine reposted to the story of a new very special individual who has entered my life and it really puts into perspective the stark differences in every simple interaction. It feels so crazy to me that I'd invest so much time and energy into people that would refuse to input even the bare minimum and would even go as far to exert their own expectations followed by incessant downplay at every opportunity.

The artwork is from 2015 and it's taken on a cheap borrowed school camera at The Den Of Nargun and then further edited and painted over on my old craptop and only a mouse (R.I.P pre-tablet days) so screen was barely calibrated or accurate but it was inspired by The Hallow in Terraria which is one of my favourite games. I remember showing it to a close friend of mine this after gifting them a Canon film camera that had a good lens. (it was old and compatible with their new Canon and I used Sony so why not) But they literally said it looked like vomit which beyond irked me because whilst it's not perfect it was a prominent creation in my life when I was just 17 in highschool without many resources. I also won an acquisitive art award for it alongside another piece called An Ever Flowing Stream of Eternity, acquisitive meaning the local gallery acquired it and I was given $500 alongside some other art supply gifts which I don't like to brag about but surely it must have some merit or value for that? Certainly not vomit right?????

I guess to top it off I was only sharing it because having gifted them a camera I was recommending locations to go except they literally went 2 days later without telling me after I said I wanted to return there and retake some pictures now I am older with a better camera. Definitely some strong gaslighting there when trying to confront it but that's whatever but what really irked me was them just shoving all their photographs in my face and essentially demanding praise and getting upset if it's anything less than positive. I'd never really share much of my art or things I made because people wouldn't really care which I figured is fair enough because everyone has different tastes and there is zero expectation for someone to like or appreciate anything you do but after so many years of that you just feel so empty. Because this is just one instance but there are countless instances with plenty of other people too which is incredibly demotivating because why bother doing or sharing anything that someone is just going to devalue? Might as well focus my attention elsewhere??? Except I'd still always have that inherent drive to create and achieve things so ultimately it just led to cyclic toxic cycles of internalized perfectionism.

But now being met with something as simple and trivial as a story repost followed by being spammed likes because I felt sad about this artwork being called "vomit" and an overall general lack of appreciation after discussing some concepts around Tall Poppy Syndrome it just… idk it sort of warms my heart and honestly I was melting a bit and I felt so guilty that this person was showing kindness and appreciation towards me because I felt so underserving? The crazy thing is that it's so simple and basic yet feels so foreign to me to have someone take the time and basic thought to undertake the gesture. For the record the share and likes are meaningless, it's all just superficial social media bullshit but the simple gesture and thought is what touches me deeply yet it feels like such a basic and trivial thing so it really makes me think back to when I'd let negative people remain in my life and convince myself I'm selfish for ever having the passing thought that I'd like the same respect and energy given to be returned mutually.

[darkbluekies]

hi hi how have you been if it's no trouble and if you are taking requests can I request your ocs with an artist reader that gives them a painted picture of themselves, If it's too difficult pls ignore this. Thanks and have a great day/night♡

(sorry if my grammar is bad)

A/N: I'm so sorry, there might have been some translation error in my brain that said that yn gave the yanderes a picture of themselves, not of yn! I'm still not 100% sure what you mean, but I wrote this. I hope you'll like it even if it's the wrong interpretation :(♡

Warnings: a bit suggestive parts in Edmund's and Silas’s

Silas:

You’re quietly coming into his office with something behind your back. Silas looks curious, asking you what you want since you never come down to his office. Youquickly give the paper over to him and attempts to run, but he lets his men lock the doors before you have the time to reach them.

“Now, now, don’t run. Let’s see what you’ve given me … wow, baby, this is magnificent. You drew me? Why haven’t you told me that you have such a talent, little thing? Now, don’t get all shy now. I really like it. I’ll keep it right here on my desk. Come here now so I can give you a kiss.”

Dr Kry:

He can tell that you’ve been drawing something for over an hour by now, but you haven’t let him see it. Everytime he comes close you pull the paper away. He’s growing curious, he can’t deny that. By lunchtime, you give him your artwork. He scans it with a small smile on his face.

“You made this of me? How sweet of you. I will cherish this dearly, I promise. Do you like to draw? Do you want me to buy you some supplies?”

King Edmund:

He has hundreds of portraits from all ages. Every year there's a new portrait of him (and you) hung in the throne room. But when you give him a messy sketch of him that you made while waiting for him to finish a meeting, he's mesmerized. You've caught something that the other painters haven't. There's something real about your sketch. Something human that has gotten erased in the official portraits.

"This is so beautiful, my jewel. You have a wonderful talent. I want you to paint my next portrait. And I'll do whatever pose you want, wearing whatever you want."

Jerry:

She likes to make some sketches too. But nothing professional. Just some doodles when she's bored. She has let you borrowed her sketchbook while she's gone in a warehouse to retrieve stuff you want nothing to do with. You draw her from memory and when she returns you hand the book back. She catches a glimpse of the small cartoonish sketch you've made of her.

"Is this supposed to be me? Why did you make my face so round? I have a jawline, you know. I'm just teasing, I know it's an art style. It's stupidly cute somehow. I'll make one of you later and then we'll keep them in our phonecases, got it?"

Hedwig:

You're not paying attention in class again. It's okay, though! Hedwig will give you her notes. You're leaning against the wall, doodling. You start to draw your girlfriend, picturing her side profile magnificently.

"Y/N, we'll work in pairs now- … oh, is that me? Wow, you're amazing! You have to show me more later, I didn't know you had such good talent! Can I keep it? Thank you, I'll hang it in my locker and get reminded of you every time I open it!"

[thalassandra]

Introducing 𓆸 Thalassandra

about me 𓆸

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ Hello! My name is Alexandra, but you can call me Lexi or Lex for short. I’m a reality shifter, an artist, a bookworm, and a Pinterest addict, born and raised in Sweden.

pinterest

⁺ ݃ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ ݃ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ ݃ * ₊

I love! love! love!: journals and sketchbooks — think chaotic collages, pressed flowers, coffee stains, messy sketches next to intricate watercolour and gouache artworks, as well as streams of thoughts in the form of pen scribbles —, seashells, summer rain, handwritten letters from a time long passed (I’m a sentimental woman), sunny winter days, fresh dates and figs, carnations, and the ocean.

My favourite books are The Secret History by Donna Tartt, Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Circe by Madeline Miller, and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

All time favourite movie is Everything, Everywhere, All At Once (2022), but I’m currently obsessing over the series Dark (2017-2020). Honestly, anything that even remotely touches upon the subject of reality shifting, the multiverse, and/or time travel I’ll love!

⁺ ݃ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ ݃ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ * ₊ ･ ﾟ⋆ ˚｡⁺ ݃ * ₊

my realities 𓆸

✶ The Maze Runner (main DR)

Lexi; beloved Glade Mother; working as a med-jack; was probably a med-student before the Glade; the first and second-to-last girl to arrive in the box; mischievous prankster; ”I’m just a girl!”; *casually switches languages mid-sentence*; raging sweet tooth; ”please ask the creators for more fresh dates and art supplies.”; I spend most of my free time laying on the grass somewhere in the Glade, or on the floor of the Homestead; ”I need my daily floor time.”

✶ Band & illustrator DR (main DR)

Set in the 90s and 2000s; ’ALEX’; (almost) secret identity; co-creator of Gorillaz; artist, illustrator and writer; ”wait… ’ALEX’ is a…GIRL?”; part-time guitarist whenever Damon is too hungover.

✶ Fame DR

Set in 2012; emerging actress from Sweden; international sweetheart; med-student by day, disco girl by night; mysterious and private; big break after portraying the character Agnes in the Swedish cult classic Show Me Love; will eventually be portraying my TMR DR self in The Maze Runner trilogy.

✶ Singer DR

Basically stealing borrowing Veronica Maggio’s entire discography for this one…

✶ Marauders Era

Set in the 70’s; Hogwarts student; Ravenclaw; part of the Marauders; whimsical and spunky, just full of mischief.

✶ Sailor/fisherman DR

Fisherman’s daughter; set in 1920s Norway; Old salt; HANNO: father, sailor, traveller.

✶ Huset Anubis

Swedish House of Anubis; the dubbed version of the original Het Huis Anubis; takes place in Sweden, 2006; member of Sibuna Club.

+ many more!!

my shifting journey 𓆸

I’ve been a part of the subliminal and manifestation community since early 2019, which eventually led me to discover reality shifting after stumbling across a subliminal about traveling to different realities (back in 2020). The rest is history.

I was previously active on Amino (before it turned into a desolate wasteland) and have been lurking on Shiftblr for about a year now (I love y’all!).

I’ve shifted three times so far (that I’m aware of). The first two shifts happened back in 2020: one to my (now archived) DR and the other to a communal WR. My most recent shift was to my TMR reality back in December 2024! :D

That was it for now, byebye!

with love, Lexi.

[shakioo]

Hey! Our charity artbook has finally been released, and I'm excited to share my artwork with you! 💕

At the end of last year, I had the opportunity to illustrate several alternate universe stories for the @ w.i.t.c.h.if art project. I absolutely adore these comics! I still remember borrowing physical copies from my classmate and role-playing their adventures. You can imagine how thrilled I was to become part of this amazing team 🫶

This story, "C for Cornelia," explores what would happen if Cornelia continues to be a rebellious child and breaks her relationships with the other girls to find and save Elyon.

[maybe-im-dark]

IKEA adventures

Based on this post

(Artwork by: @shortkinglogan)

The mission had been grueling, and the aftermath had been worse. Logan and Wade had gotten into a heated argument back at home— about Wade’s “interpretive dance fighting style” distracting Logan. Wade had insisted it was the way his butt looked in the new suit the TVA had given him. Plates had shattered. Glasses had flown. Althea had intervened with her usual tact, which involved shouting at them to replace every last dish they’d broken.

And now they were at IKEA.

Logan stalked through the maze-like store, his yellow-and-blue pants, that he was still wearing —since Al had basically chased them out, shouting and swinging her cane— a glaring contrast to the neutral-toned displays of minimalist Scandinavian furniture. He’d thrown on a battered leather jacket to hide the top part of his costume, but he still looked like he’d escaped from Comic-Con. Wade, on the other hand, was proudly wearing his full Deadpool suit, sans mask. He’d insisted that IKEA’s fluorescent lighting made his complexion look radiant.

“This is the worst day ever,” Logan growled as they passed a display of perfectly arranged throw pillows.

“Correction,” Wade chirped, grabbing a stuffed shark off a shelf and tossing it into their oversized cart, “this is the best day we’ve ever had. Look at all these opportunities for chaos! And free pencils!” He gestured toward the tiny golf pencils in a nearby bin. “Do you think they’d let me borrow a hundred of these? For stabbing purposes?”

Logan rolled his eyes and kept walking. He had one goal: grab some cheap plates and glasses and get out before someone recognized them.

They’d just reached the kitchenware section when it happened.

A middle-aged woman with short, practical hair and an armful of Tupperware marched up to Logan, her face a mix of determination and exasperation.

“Excuse me,” she said, tapping Logan on the arm. “Can you help me find the lid sets for these containers? None of them match.”

Logan blinked at her, utterly confused. “Lady, I don’t work here.”

But she didn’t seem to hear him. “And another thing,” she continued, shoving the mismatched Tupperware at him, “these lids are clearly defective. I mean, who designs this stuff? Do they even test it before selling it? You should really bring this up at your next staff meeting.”

Logan stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his brain short-circuiting.

“I said,” he repeated, his voice growing more gravelly, “I don’t work here.”

Wade, of course, was losing it. He leaned against a shelf full of wine glasses, clutching his sides, his laughter echoing through the store.

“Oh my God, she thinks you’re the IKEA superhero!” he wheezed. “What’s your power, peanut? Superhuman shelving? Extreme customer service?”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled, but the woman was relentless.

“Well, if you don’t know about the lids, can you at least point me to the dining room tables?” she demanded. “I’ve been wandering around for twenty minutes, and this place is a labyrinth!”

“Lady,” Logan snapped, pointing to his own chest. The veins on his neck were beginning to pop out. “I. Don’t. Work. Here.”

The woman squinted at him, clearly unconvinced. “Then why are you wearing those pants? They look just like the uniform. Yellow and blue.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but Wade beat him to it.

“Oh, he’s definitely an employee,” Wade said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. “In fact, he’s Employee of the month. Look at him! So dedicated.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan hissed, but Wade just grinned.

“Ma’am,” Wade said, stepping forward with mock sincerity, “this fine gentleman here is just a little camera-shy. Let me help you out.” He gestured toward a passing employee in a blue-and-yellow IKEA shirt. “Here’s one of his coworkers now!”

The actual employee, a bewildered teenager, looked from Logan to the woman, clearly unsure of what was happening.

“Oh, good!” the woman said, turning her attention to the kid. “Maybe you can tell me where the dining room tables are.”

As the woman finally walked off, dragging the hapless employee with her, Logan let out a long-suffering sigh.

Wade was practically vibrating with glee. “That was the single greatest moment of my life,” he declared. “You, my friend, are a beacon of Swedish efficiency.”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply grabbed the nearest set of plates, tossed them into the cart, and started walking toward the checkout.

“Wait!” Wade called, jogging after him. “We haven’t even looked at the fake plants! Or the meatballs! Do you think they sell them in bulk? I could eat, like, fifty meatballs right now. I wonder if they are as big as yours. Logan! Slow down!”

Logan kept walking, his jaw clenched, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

At least Althea would stop yelling at them now. Hopefully.

[ratasum]

GW2 Ficlet - Ship In A Bottle

As the race to find the Aspects of Lazarus ramps up, Rhenn decides to reach out to his father for help. He may find, however, that the path he's chosen doesn't have what he truly needs... Warnings for implied past child abuse, manipulation, trauma. Related artwork: "...yes, Father."

“Kas, believe me, I appreciate the offer - and that you trust her - but considering my track record, I’m not exactly keen on trusting a shadowy organization that wants me to bend a knee to them.” Rhenn’s arms were folded tightly over his chest as he spoke, looking up at the human woman with a small, faint frown. “I have enough of that in my life already.”

Kasmeer’s brow furrowed at that, and after a moment, she shook her head. “Anise is nothing like the overseers in the Inquest, Rhenn. She’s offered her help… and deemed you worthy. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Immediately, his shoulders tightened. “You’ll have to forgive me for being wary, considering how most of my meetings with her before now have gone.”

“And you trust your dad more?” Iuno’s ears pulled back. “You haven’t talked to him since…”

“Since Trahearne.” Rhenn’s tone was flat, and he glanced away from everyone, jaw tightening. “I haven’t talked to him, no, and I should check in. I’ve been doing that less and less. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see the progress we’ve made, besides.”

From where she was standing, Kippa made a soft noise. “...I don’t know, Rhenn. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

Her tone startled Rhenn out of his frustration, and he blinked a few times before glancing over at her, offering a faint smile. When she didn’t return it, he reached over to grab one of the strands of hair that curled up by her cheeks, giving a gentle tug. “Awh, I appreciate your concern, Kip, you know I do. But it’s just my dad. I’ve talked to him a million times. I only grew up with him, y’know?”

She just frowned a little deeper, but finally sighed, giving him a look as she lifted a hand to grab his wrist. “We can’t stop you, but at least promise you’ll reach out to us if something goes wrong?”

“I didn’t know you cared that much.” He sounded more like his usual self, lowering his hand as she pulled at his wrist. “But yes. I promise if something goes wrong, you guys will be first on my list. How is it you like to put it…? Cross my heart and hope to cry.”

Nearby from her perch atop Scruffy, Taimi gave an indignant little sniff. “I still think you should let me come with you. Not for Scruffy as extra protection, of course, but because I would love to see the inside of the Applied Maginetics lab! I mean sure yeah they’re all Inquest but your dad is a primo geneticist. What if I just, you know… borrowed some research?”

Snorting, Rhenn grinned, glancing over at her. “Borrowed. Right. My dad’s really dear about his research, smarty pants, and I’m not about to let you get hurt. Zojja’d tear herself out of that recovery suite in Rata Sum and take my head clean off with a yank of my ponytail and you know it. I’m not about to incur the wrath of Snaff’s Greatest Heir.”

“Boooo, you’re no fun!” Folding her arms and turning up her nose, Taimi tipped her head in his direction regardless. “Well in that case, I second Kippa. Make sure you let us know if something goes weird.”

“Honestly, you all worry way too much. This is my dad we’re talking about, and I know all the researchers there. Just wait. We’ll figure out how to find the aspects of Lazarus in no time.”

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

Getting to the Applied Maginetics lab was the easiest part of the trip. He knew how to get to the Inquest Outer Complex, and it was just a short walk to the main lab from there. Swinging through the door, he waved at a researcher who was passing by, grinning at her when she gave him a startled look. “Hey, Marha! Long time no see! I see you sorted out those optical implants.”

“Rhenn?” She sounded genuinely surprised to see him, turning towards him fully. “I- well yes, they work quite well. I rarely have to turn on the lights now. But I didn’t realize you would be back. You didn’t send any messages ahead. Does the overseer know you were coming…?”

He shook his head, hooking his thumbs on his belt. “Nah, figured I’d make a surprise visit. I needed some help with some bookah we’re hunting down and knew if anyone would have some insight, it’d be him. Why? Is he working on a project?”

Marha stared at him for a moment then gave her head a quick shake. “No, no, he’s been going over some readings from your files. He wanted to make some adjustments, but isn’t sure if it would be worth the extra work, since people might ask questions if you were gone from your work with… the Pact for too long.”

“I think I’m doing just fine as is.” The statement puzzled him, but he shook it off. Experiments and work had been core to Rhenn’s existence since he was young- this wasn’t any different. “Is he in his lab?”

“Last I checked, but- oh! Overseer, I-”

At the word “Overseer,” Rhenn turned, straightening a bit when he saw his father standing there staring at him, halfway between frustrated and puzzled. He looked between Marha and Rhenn respectively, then cleared his throat and turned, expression sharpening. “You’re dismissed, Marha. Do keep me updated on the samples you’ve been working on.”

The woman nodded without a word, giving Rhenn an anxious look before scurrying off. After a startled moment, Rhenn turned to his father with a half grin. “Hey, Dad. Sorry I didn’t send a bird first.”

Prikk regarded him for a moment, then sniffed before gesturing for Rhenn to follow him, turning to head down a nearby hallway. “Your communications have been few and far between as of late regardless, Rhenn… this incident notwithstanding. I had begun to wonder what might have come over you, or if you were having… second thoughts.”

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that. I’ve just been busy.” Rhenn had to measure his steps to keep from overtaking his father, folding his hands behind his head as he walked. “The whole commander business, you know? Which is actually why I’m here. We’re trying to hunt down the aspects of this mursaat, Lazarus, to try to prevent him being resurrected. I wasn’t about to go along with this human woman’s scheme, so I figured you might have something we could use.”

For a few more moments as they walked, Prikk remained silent. It wasn’t until they were in his old lab, the door closed behind them, that he finally spoke again. “Perhaps. But first we need to address the matter of your… poor obedience.”

Rhenn blinked, glancing at him after his last few words. “My poor obedience? What are you talking about? I’ve been doing exactly what you told me to do.”

“Have you?” Prikk turned fully, then, holding up a small device in his hand. He gave his son a long look through his glasses, and then pressed the button embedded on the side. “Why don’t we discuss it.”

The instant Prikk pressed the button, Rhenn felt it. Searing, agonizing pain radiating out from his chest and into his limbs, pulsing into his head, burning through his veins like molten lightning. An electric shock, stronger than his body’s ability to cancel out pain, was able to keep up with. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, and he could barely choke out a high, pained grunt before crumpling to his knees, head bowed forward until it nearly touched the cold stone.

It wasn’t until the pain ebbed that he felt like he was able to breathe again, letting out a sharp breath before beginning to breathe heavily, ears pulled back, whole body shaking. “Dad, what the hell-”

Another sharp wave of pain overwhelmed him, cutting him off as he let himself collapse fully, curling in on himself to try to find some way to stop the pain, claws digging into his own arms. This time, when the pain began to recede, he realized Prikk had begun to speak. “You had very specific orders, Rhenn. I believe this farce is beginning to go to your head. You serve the Inquest’s interests, and you report back to me no less than once a week. You seem to have forgotten yourself.”

“I- I’ve been busy, I told you, I- NNH-”

Prikk shook his head as he pressed the button again, watching his son writhe in pain on the unforgiving stone before him. “That is no excuse. I have very high expectations for you, as you are well aware. You are the pinnacle of asuran evolution- the greatest our kind can achieve. But you did not become so without my guidance. Me, to whom you owe your very existence.” Quietly, he put the remote down on a nearby desk, not looking back at Rhenn as he spoke. “Now then. I am ready to put this whole messy business behind us, Rhenn, and really look into these “aspects” you're so concerned about. Do you promise to behave... son?”

For a moment, Rhenn was silent, shakily pushing himself up onto one knee, one fist planted as the other clenched tightly against his raised knee. Then, slowly, he glanced up, glowing eyes illuminating his pained expression, jaw tight, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “...yes, Father. Anything you say.”

It was only then that Prikk gave a wry smile, turning to move further into the lab. “Excellent! Come then. Let us look into these… aspects and see what we might do to track them down without the need for those ignorant, short eared, small eyed buffoons.”

Slowly, Rhenn pushed to his feet, watching Prikk’s back as he moved away. But as he went to pass the desk himself, he reached out, quietly slipping the remote from the desktop into a hidden pouch within one of his bags. “...of course. Father.”

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

It was late into the evening when Rhenn finally returned to the camp, looking exhausted and still wincing every now and then as his muscles tensed, an unpleasant reminder of his father’s unexpected chokehold on him. Why had he done that? What kind of device had he implanted to hurt him like that?

Why would he hurt him like that?

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear Iuno speak to him, her tone and expression worried as she went to grab his arm. “Rhenn? You don’t look so hot-”

Immediately, the touch causing ripples of pain to echo across his skin, he jerked his arm away from her. “I’m fine!” Then, after a moment, he let out a breath. “Sorry, I’m- I’m fine. It’s okay. I have a device that should let us track down the aspects based on the information we already had. I want to have Taimi have a look to refine it, but we can work on that in the morning.”

“Rhenn… you look awful.” Kippa was moving over to him, her touch far more gentle when she reached out to him. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

It was all he could do not to jerk away from her touch as well, turning his head away. “I’m okay, I promise.” Reaching into his bag, he withdrew the remote he took from his father’s desk, tossing it up to where Taimi was lounging on top of Scruffy. “Here, small fry. Destroy this. I don’t care how you do it, but I need it to not work, at all.”

She barely managed to catch the device, turning it in her hands as she scrunched up her nose. “Piece of cake, but why? It’s just a remote. What does it even do?”

The realization of that comment caused Rhenn to whip his head around. “Wait, Taimi, don’t press it-!”

But he was too late. She pressed a finger down on the button, though she immediately jerked it back when Rhenn let out an agonized grunt, sinking to his knees and curling over, ponytail falling over his shoulder as he shook, muscles clearly spasming. Kippa got to him first, ripples of water magic swirling around her hands as she reached out to cradle his face. Taimi, to her credit, looked thoroughly horrified at his reaction. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, Rhenn, I’ll break it, I didn’t know-!”

“Not your fault,” Rhenn managed to wheeze out, voice rough. “Just… just make sure you get rid of the damn thing.”

She was nodding, and Kippa made a soft sound, smoothing her hands down Rhenn’s arms. “Iuno, Taimi, can you give us a few moments? I’d like to check him for burns or… or anything, really.”

Slowly, Iuno nodded, waiting for Taimi to drop into Scruffy’s cockpit before the pair headed out of the large tent, leaving Kippa alone with Rhenn. She was quiet at first, reaching out to help him out of his shirt. It wasn’t until she had the shirt fully pushed from his frame that she gasped, fingers lingering on the deep scars covering his arms and torso. “Rhenn, what-”

“These?” He shook his head slightly, sitting back quietly, whole body still trembling faintly. “They’re nothing. Surgical scars, from my dad’s experiments.”

Kippa stared at him as he spoke, green eyes going ever wider. “Surgical scars? Then the remote… did your father make that? To… to shock you like that? Rhenn, if he did, that’s- that’s awful; what father in his right mind would treat his own son like that?!”

Rhenn said nothing at first, glancing away as his brow furrowed. “I… he must’ve. Look, Kip, I’m really tired and I don’t- we have a lot of work to do to find the aspects. Can we talk about this later? When I’ve had some sleep and you’ve got some… whatever you need to put on me, on me?”

She didn’t seem convinced, but she did sigh, reaching into her bag to pull out a few jars. “Okay. Here, I have some aloe. There’s some burns from where the metal touched your skin… they’re healing quickly but this’ll help ease the pain a little bit.”

The pair fell silent for a long while after that, with Rhenn watching Kippa work and Kippa diligently smoothing aloe over his burns and another cream onto his twitching muscles, gently explaining everything she was doing as she went. He had to marvel for a moment at how gently she handled him, always with the lightest touch, never doing anything without telling him and waiting for him to agree. It was such a strange difference from how the researchers and his father handled him.

Maybe it was how badly his head ached from the repeated shocks. Maybe it was that gentleness he was marveling at. But as she was reaching out to check a burn mark on his shoulder, he lifted a hand to catch her chin, gazing into those jade green eyes for a few moments before he leaned in.

It had to be the light headedness talking, but he was locked in now.

The moment their lips met was electric, but different from those terrible jolts of pain. She tasted just like the cocoa scrubs she liked to use, and after a brief moment of tension, she leaned into him, and it was all he could do to keep from gathering her against him. A ward against the awfulness of the day.

But then, the moment was over. When the kiss broke, he sat upright quickly, watching as Kippa stared at him wide eyed, her hand coming up to press her fingertips lightly against her lips as Rhenn stammered out, “I- oh Alchemy I uh- I am so sorry Kippa I don’t know where that came from I- I need to go. Jump into the lake or something okay I’ll be fine, just… we’ll talk later, okay?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, dragging himself to his feet before hurrying out of the space, leaving Kippa to stand shocked in his wake.

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

It didn’t take long for Rhenn to find a secluded spot to drop down into a sit, one hand running over the scars resting in a v shape up his chest. The kiss lingered in his mind, but so did her horror over the scars. The difference in how she treated him over his father’s cruel, dismissive behavior.

It was an uncomfortable feeling to sit in, and he found himself almost wishing he could slip back in where he’d left Kippa. She was such a warm, calming presence, and she cared. She worried. The feeling of her up against him felt right. On the other hand, the awful, uncomfortable feeling lingered in the back of his mind, one that had started to form as he glared at his father from his agonizing kneel back in the Applied Maginetics lab.

His hands pushed back through his hair, brow furrowing tightly as he glared at the ground beneath him. Arms lowering slowly, he looked over the scars that traced up to his shoulders. They’d been so briefly painful, but now he was looking at them with a new perspective. The very crystals in his body his father had told him would help him achieve their goals, able to control asuran-built tech with a touch… used to hurt him. He’d been shock collared by his own father, who had put him through excruciating pain with all the care he might’ve shown a workbench.

And for what reason? His jaw tightened, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He’d never questioned his father’s motives, or the Inquest, but the sick feeling in his gut that accompanied the new feelings on all of it bubbling to the surface was enough to make him want to vomit. Was he not his father’s son? Had he not done everything he’d been told?

What had he done, other than forget to write for a few weeks, to deserve that?

Letting out a frustrated yell, Rhenn shoved to his feet and began to pace before slamming his fist into a tree. The sting was only brief, his highly modified body reacting quickly to stop the pain before it even had a chance to do more than itch.

Abilities his father had designed into him. He was meant to be the perfect asura, but what did that mean, in the end? Did his father see him as a son?

Or an experiment?

Shaking off the thoughts, he let out a breath, shaking out his hand before looking back towards the tent. He could see Iuno speaking with Kippa, who was worrying her hands anxiously. They couldn’t see him from where he was standing, even if he had a good vantage point on them. They were worried… worried for him.

Worried in a way his father hadn’t been.

Prikk was pragmatic, it was true, but this felt different, and he hated how it curled in his chest and spread icy fingers into his neck and shoulders.

But for now, he needed not to worry about it. They still had to find the rest of the aspects. He couldn’t let this affect his movements. He’d have to piece through it later. For now, Tyria needed the commander.

So the commander he would have to be.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

A Reader's Guide to the Multiverse

Hello! Welcome to my sandbox!

Artwork by the lovely @abookishweasel

Though I still write long-form stories collaboratively with @neonthewrite [ Ao3 | DA ] and @nightmares06 [ Ao3 | DA ], my own writing has become more short-form and sporadic. This can make things a bit confusing for the blog, since there isn't an easy way to organize everything. That's what I use Ao3 for (user The_Raconteur_24601). And even there, it can be a bit complicated.

Under the cut is a guide to the stories you'll find featured on this blog; my attempt at organizing them here, and links to their counterparts on Ao3. My asks are always open for any questions this post doesn't answer!

Borrowed Time (and Space)

A Doctor Who/The Borrowers Crossover

[Ao3 Series] | Meet the OCs

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, The Borrowers belongs to Mary Norton, and Zepheera and other borrower OCs belong to me.

It's the name of the blog, the OG, the one that started it all. The primary premise for this series is: The Doctor (usually Ten) takes on a four and a half inch tall borrower named Zepheera as a companion. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, but let me set things straight.

Common tags for the stories (and various posts) are #doctor who gt or #doctor who g/t (which stands for giant/tiny and indicates the involvement of drastic size difference, for the uninitiated) and #BTaS AU

Episode 1 | Minisode | Episode 2 | Episode 3

Originally there were ambitions to try and make the series episodic, like your typical season of Doctor Who but with a borrower tossed in. As such, the first three stories in the series are titled as 'Episodes'. These were among the first long-form stories I'd ever written and posted, so they predate the blog. That, and my writing style and ideas for the canon of the series have changed drastically since then. See this post for more details on that, and this one if you're not worried about spoilers.

The tl;dr of it is: These Episodes are the basis for the AU, but I don't consider them canon enough to impact any other stories in a meaningful way unless I say so.

Zepheera's Origins - In which I started cracking down on my borrower companion's characterization and backstory, compiling a number of prompts set during the time before she met the Doctor.

Zepheera-Visions - These were a fun writing exercise for me during this blog's early years! I would come up with shorts based on Doctor Who gifs that feature some low or high angle shot, imagining Zepheera as the point of perspective in them. If I were at all good at making gifs myself, I might have kept it up. A lot of the AU that ultimately came about branched off from these gimmicks, and still feature them in their stories. Here, they can be viewed under the #Zepheera-Vision tag.

Tales from the Vortex - A compilation of various prompts and shorts that take places in the BTaS-Verse, but don't have any major stories attached to them. These span different Doctors other than Ten, and feature a few other companions in some of them. Sometimes, enough stories accumulate with a similar theme to expand into their own AU, which leads me to...

Borrowed Time and Space AU

The Donna Trilogy - This was originally called the Donna AU, and the original shorts were tagged with #DonnaAU or #Donna AU. Nowadays, I've started to give AU their own titles and tagging them on blog posts. And recent events in Doctor Who have inspired this to span more than one story, making this the first multipart BTaS AU!

Part 1 - A Patient, and Time. [tag] [Ao3]

Part 2 - If I Could Turn Back Time [tag] [Ao3]

Part 3 - TBD...

To The Nines - One of the first AU created in which Zepheera is companion to a Doctor other than Ten! Despite titling the story later on, I must have had the idea for it earlier because a lot of the early shorts are tagged #To the Nines AU. Other tags include #nine AU and #To the Nines.

Time After Time - This AU, while it is NOT a sequel to any existing story, assumes that Zepheera and the Tenth Doctor went on their adventures in the past, and got separated at some point. Then Zepheera manages to find the Twelfth Doctor while he's at St. Luke's and meets Bill Potts. This was one AU that developed slowly over time once I realized I could get a story arc out of it, so a good chunk of the shorts are in the tag #Time After Time.

Borrowed Magic - co-written with neonthewrite

The first and so far only BTaS crossover! The wonderful neon lent me her boi Bowman from her story "Bowman of Wellwood" ( Paperback EBook Amazon ) to join my little TARDIS crew.

Lost in Flight - The inaugural story to introduce a tiny winged guy raised in the woods to all of time and space. It's so far the only complete story we've written, but we're absolutely open to prompts and suggestions for shenanigans for the crew to get into!

Brothers Apart AU - co-written with nightmares06

A SuperLock/Borrowers Crossover

Brothers Apart Ao3 | Meet the OCs

Supernatural belongs to the CW, Sherlock to the BBC, Brothers Apart to nighmares06, and listed OCs to me.

Brothers Apart is a borrower AU of Supernatural written by the inimitable nightmares06. We have collaborated on a few of the various AU based on that story, in which I bring the BBC Sherlock angle.

I don't post nearly as much here about BAU (Brothers Apart AU) since most questions about it are fielded at the dedicated blog @brothersapart; most of what can be found here are miscellaneous prompts and character tidbits. Brothers Apart AU posts made here get filed under #BAU.

More AU exist than listed below, and will be added as they're posted.

Brothers Consulted - Cursed Winchesters end up in London and join forces with the Baker Street crew to solve mysteries, as they do. #Brothers Consulted

Brothers Chosen - Canon Winchesters find a borrower during a hunt and have to figure out what to do with him.

A Tale of Two Sizes - Part of an unannounced BAU, featuring Stan and his family in a universe where Stan is a size-shifter. Finally compiled these into one collection. #size shifter Stan

Misc. Tumblr Prompts - A less clever name for a similar compilation of prompts that don't (or don't yet) have their own story, that have nothing to do with BTaS and/or have to do with my cowritten works.

Miscellaneous

The Brave Little Baker - In which I toss Stan and Nate into a fantasy world of giants and giant slayers! Also based on a series of prompts, revised and compiled into their own story once I had enough of them.

GT July

These prompt challenges have done wonders to keep me writing and inspired!

2022 Masterpost | 2023 Masterpost

[theres-a-body-here]

Ghostface with Creep!reader Part 2

Ever since you and Danny made your little movie, it went without saying that you two were now a couple

And he's pretty clingy

Like a cat

In between trials he lays his head on your lap at the campfire

Like he owns it

Arms behind his head along with a loud content sigh

He glances to make sure the other killers are watching

"Babe, you're sooooo comfy"

The others either roll their eyes or groan

He chuckles and then rolls over to press his face into your stomach

"Mhhhmmhhmmmhhh"

You let him move into your realm since he never had one

(Think Haddonfield but sunny)

You give him the tour

"And this is where I filmed Jenny's death. She screamed a lot"

"That's hot babe" camera flash

You show him your home

Or at least the Entity's recreation of it

He looks around as you stand proud

There's a long pause

Silence fills the air

"Hey wolfie......your home blows ass"

You slump

siggghhhhh "I know"

Danny helps you spruce up the place while you're at a trial

"Trust me babe, I know what I'm doing. I once killed a interior home designer"

Returning from your trial, you step into the realm once more and enter your "home," the place where Danny had undertaken the task of redecorating. As you take in the changes, you're surprised to find that he's actually done a good job. Furniture has been shifted around to create a more balanced layout, and paintings adorn the walls, adding a touch of life to the otherwise eerie space. You notice it's some of Carmina's work.

You can't help but wonder if he "borrowed" the artwork, considering his........Danny-ness

However, your gaze lands on something that doesn't quite fit the rest of the decorations. A wall adorned with Polaroids depicting his past murder victims catches your attention. It's a stark contrast to the rest of the aesthetic changes he's made.

"Damn it, Danny, the composition is all wrong," you mutter with a hint of frustration, your annoyance stemming from his lack of attention to aesthetics. The Polaroids are haphazardly nailed to the wall, without any discernible pattern or arrangement.

Beside you, Danny simply shrugs and looks at you with an impish grin.

"Well, can't please everyone, can I? Besides, I thought it'd be a fun way to show off my... accomplishments," he responds with his characteristic smugness, his tone unapologetic.

Rolling your eyes at Danny's response, you can't help but mutter a teasing insult under your breath. "Moron," you scoff, your words laced with affectionate amusement.

You both go on stalking dates

Meaning you sneak around the survivor camp and record them from afar

You both giggle like schoolgirls when you throw a pebble at Dwight's head

The nervous wreck of a leader is so confused as he darts his head around

You record everything on your camcorder

"Wolfie, lemme try. Record this"

"Okay, ready"

You focus your viewfinder on Dwight, expecting another pebble

Something suddenly pierces Dwight's neck at full speed

It makes a squelching sound and then a crack as it hits bone

Dwight falls dead

Danny deadass threw his knife at Dwight

The survivor camp erupts into chaos

Danny grabs your hand as you two hightail it out of there

You're both laughing like hyenas

The Entity makes you both walk Demogorgon around the entire realm as punishment

For a whole week

Well at least you're together

As you and Danny navigate the Yamaoka estate, you hold the leash that's tethered to the Demogorgon. The creature's towering form is a stark contrast to the mundane concept of a "dog," yet here you are.

"Hey, Danny, can you hold the leash?" you inquire, a hint of mischief dancing in your voice. Danny simply shrugs and nods as he takes the leash from your hand. You watch with a faint smirk as he wraps the leash around his hand.

Taking advantage of the moment, you calmly reach down to your boot and retrieve a sliver of jerky. With a casual, nonchalant demeanor, you extend the treat towards the Demogorgon. "Here, boy, fetch," you utter, your tone tinged with amusement as you toss the jerky away from you.

In an instant, the Demogorgon reacts, its predatory instincts kicking in as it lunges after the jerky. The force of its movement catches Danny off guard, and he's practically yanked off his feet, the leash becoming a makeshift tether that tugs him along like a ragdoll.

"Asssshoooollllleee!" Danny's indignant yell carries through the air, the word drawn out as he's pulled farther away from you. His insults grow faint as the distance between you increases, his voice eventually becoming a distant echo.

A bout of genuine laughter escapes your lips. Maybe punishment wasn't so bad as long as Danny was there.

Masterlist here

[ventique18]

Twisted Wonderland Misc. Category Masterlist

🌸 Links under the cut 🌸

Coding Programs

Pomodoro Malleus

Space Shooter Lilia

Full-length fanfics

Generous 🔞

Wonderful 🔞

Deadly 🔞

Dreamlike ⚠️

Our Dirty Little Secret (Part 1) 🔞

Our Dirty Little Secret (Part 2) 🔞

Our Dirty Little Secret (Part 3) 🔞

A03 link to smut sketches

Malleus smut sketches 🔞

3D

Cozy Home 🏡 (3D)

Video

Happy Birthday Malleus 2023

* PSA: This video contains artwork from an artist who has become problematic. I will keep the video up because this is my hard work and only borrowed/featured artwork from other artists, but please note that I have blocked and am no longer associated with said artist.