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azullumi · 3 days

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“of impermanence and devotion to your sacred withering bones” ; sunday

premise — he’ll take pieces out of his flesh to mold into your wounds, bandaging you with his skin; he never liked seeing you hurt.

tags — established relationship, religious themes and metaphors, soft and loving sunday (i advocate), mix of the lovely trio (the fluff, the slight angst, and the comfort), reassurance from him, gender-neutral reader, never proofread, 1.1k ; one-shot

note — my parents chose thought daughter so now i’m writing fanfics on a thursday afternoon.

he’ll love you like religion.

needlessly, tirelessly, with bruised knees and bleeding palms, with blood-shot eyes and clasped fingers, worshiping, devoting, yearning, calling to whoever will listen—to you who will listen. it suffocates him yet he’ll clench at his chest and utter your name even if there’s no voice in his being and he is left like a pathetic, whimpering dog that was made to be abandoned. he’ll dig his own grave with broken nails and wounded hands, a coffin of tender touches, and the earth will fill his lungs and he’ll hope for flowers to sprout from his mouth when he plants his confession into the dirt. can you hear him? do you hear him?

“please take care of yourself more.” sunday says as he reaches for the bottle of disinfectant, pouring enough of it over the cloth he was holding to drench it before gently dabbing the fabric on the area of your wound. it stings and you hissed, clenching the sheets beneath your fingers as you watch him work.

“i only fell and scraped my knee, i don’t think it’s anything that bad.” you say in defense to your clumsiness. sunday was all gentle and careful in cleaning and treating the wound on your knee as if you were a child and he was the nurse tending to your ‘big’ wound.

(a god does not bleed but you do.)

he sighs, “it could have been worse.” and dresses your wound with a gauze, the material pristine white as no blood taints the material.

“but it wasn’t.” you rebut quite quickly, your gaze firm at his yet he doesn’t meet yours. he is kneeled in front of you, an open kit by his side and a chair on his other—and he chooses to be on the cold ground, his clothing slightly wrinkled and its appearance similar to spilled water on the floor beneath him. he never dares let himself appear as indecent with his disordered clothes and unkempt appearance in the form of an unsymmetrical coat and creased pants but here he is, in all his glory and messiness, laid out like the map of a devotee’s heart before you.

(he’ll beg even for a moment of your gaze but his cowardice will hold his head down to the ground—he is never like this, he was never his own when you look at him.)

“what could have happened if i wasn’t there to immediately help you? you’re too careless.” he scolds yet there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, just gentle and sweet worry lacing into his tone. something lies, seemingly dormant, in the still air that embraces you and he finds himself waiting for something to happen.

“sunday, it’s just a small wound. you don’t have to worry, i’m fine.” you assure him, hand cupping the side of his cheek and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone—it’s soft and slow, you feel warm, he feels warm. he leans into your touch, your hand soothing the tension that lies in his bones and his expression softens. silence settles in the room as he basks in the gentle affection that is bestowed on him. he holds your hand he turns his head to kiss the palm of it; his eyes are close and his lips lingered on your skin, comforting, relishing, soft, you.

“i have a question but before that, can you look at me, please?”

“i am,” he whispers, his lips beginning to trace your palm down to your pulse, all the while he keeps his gaze away and shut, “and my love, you never have to beg or plead for anything.” you know he’ll give you everything.

(sometimes—always, he feels like he is undeserving of the divine grace of your attention, of your affection, of your adoration, and you feel like your love is just a meager offering, unable to fulfill him. can you see him each other?)

finally, he looks at you—golden eyes born from the sun meets yours. his halo is situated just right on his head, pierced wings behind his ears, and his hair reminds you of the sky above you that you once gazed into when you were a child playing in the fields, before you were deemed as his, and now your gaze is held on the ground right where he is kneeling down. stray strands of your hair fall over your eyes and the way the light kisses your skin makes you look delicate, ethereal.

“do i love you enough?” you ask. have you ever been enough? have you done enough? is your mere and bare existence enough for someone like him?

“since when have you not?” he answers, filled with gentle affection. his tone is akin of a devout preacher, reassuring like a verse from a scripture.

(sunday never thought of you as lacking, not with the broken and missing pieces of your skin, tainted and muddled by blood and dirt, left to rot in your wake like a sin unrepented.)

“you’re the wine that overflows my cup,” he says, each syllable of his words carrying the weight of his utter and suffocating devotion, “and i’ll continue to consume you even in death.” no grave will ever hold his body down.

you cup his cheeks with both of your hands, his lips leaving your skin yet the warmth of his kisses remains. “you’re too good with your words,” you say, a small smile drawing on your lips, “perhaps you’re only telling lies to please me.”

“my dearest,” he murmurs, lightly grazing his hand against your ear as he pushes your hair aside, “i’ll lay down my life for you, but i will never deceive you.”

(an unyielding faith of a martyr, his commitment is steadfast and his love is a fervent prayer, uttered and spoken only by him. his thoughts are spilled on the carpet, his confession ringing and echoing back to him as he repents like a sinner for loving you too much.)

“i’m a burden.” you whisper, longing for the feeling of his lips on yours. “i’m afraid i’m too much or too little for you to have.”

“i’m okay with that,” it’s a litany of devotion, his words a sacred vow he’ll keep for eternity that will come, “i love you.”

forever become a burden, become human in a fragile and delicate way as if your heart is made to break, so he’ll get to hold you in his hands.

also tagging, the one and only @toorurs !! i am dedicating this to u because u LOVE last day of the week guy A LOT and i’m also too lazy to make another section but yeah this is for you my boo, hi beloved you’re the greatest of the greatest, you’re the sweetest of all (i feel like im singing a song wadahell) and i hope you know that you’re very very cool and very very funny and i’m not the type to laugh while texting but i always do it when talking to you. i try not to do a backflip when u like and reblog my posts (i cant even do a headstand dafuq) !! i hope you know that you’re not loser, maybe a hater, but definitely not a user and you have me as a friend always no matter what questionable and weird things you say 🙏 like okay alpha sigma you’re the boss. this feels like the dedication page on a book or the acknowledgment part in research where you say thank you to whoever you want like damn. i’ll do the remaining words for dedication on upcoming works so that you’re always reminded that you’re somewhat involved in my life even if you’re like 1826725276 fucking miles away

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ahyuggg · 1 day

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ERM- wip,, 🪄

#aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai #aventurine honkai star rail #wip

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freyzrc · 3 days

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# 115 angy aventurine >:(

#hsr #hsr fanart #hsr aventurine #aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai #star rail #honkai fanart #sketch #freyz365sketch

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xi-chan · 20 hours

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can you pretty please write ratio sunday and maybe gallagher with a reader who just brings animals home like one day they come home with just a dirty feral ass cat out of nowhere

of course I can love <33 I love this idea

White Jasmine

sypnosis: one day, you bring home a stray- much to his surprise you found it on the street pairings: Ratio, Sunday and Gallagher x reader (Separate) wordcount: 338 (Ratio), 364 (Sunday), 292 (Gallagher) A/N: fluff and crack? I have NOT grasped enough of Gallaghers personality to write enough for him im so sorryyy

RATIO

"No." he said, nonchalantly as you pout with the kitten in your arms. "Why not? Look how cute he looks!" you said and your boyfriend grimaced as he saw the feral look on the 'kitten' that you held. "It looks like it wants to rip my face off. And here I thought you could use your brain for once." he added and you dramatically gasped, holding the kitten close to you. "How could you say that?! He's not an 'it'! Besides, all he needs is a bath, some food and some grooming. Plus, if he were to rip your face off, then it's because you made him uncomfortable." Ratio groaned in annoyance before you walked right past him, getting ready to help your kitten.

He followed quickly behind in fear for his dozens of books and whatever he has for studies. "What do you even want to name him?

"Emperor Maximillian Pusspuss."

"You cannot be serious."

Nevertheless to say, the two of you agreed on the name Cosine- mostly because that when Ratio tried to explain The Pythagorean theorem to 'an idiot' student (he called him that), the cat responded every time he said 'Cosine'.

After one long day of shopping, you opened the door to your shared house and noticed the lack of sounds from inside. Also, normally, Cosine would wait before the door once you entered, but not today. As you walked through the entire house, you stopped when you entered the bedroom, bringing out your phone to snap some pictures of the sight before you. There, your smart boyfriend laid on your bed with Cosine sleeping on his chest as he read a book. He looked up as he heard the shutter from your phone, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, putting the book away. You smiled to yourself before walking up to the bed and petting Cosine, causing him to wake up and meow softly at you. "Well?" you took a glance at Veritas before you showed him the picture.

"Preserving memories."

SUNDAY

"Angel, this is the seventh time." he sighed, too tired to argument with you actually as you brought in yet another bird you found in Penacony. "But this one is injured." you said, showing your boyfriend the injured wing of the bird. He got up from his seat and you place the bird carefully on his hands when he stood before you. "Seems like a small fracture," he gently held the injured wing and inspected it before letting it rest beside the bird. "poor little thing." he quietly added before looking up to you. "I don't think we can care for another one, Angel." he said, but you shook your head, practically begging him. "pleaseeeee, the room is big enough for another, it can stay." he chuckled before the two of you began to walk to a distant room at Dewlight Pavilion.

Over the past 2 months, you have brought in six birds before this one, almost begging Sunday every time to help you heal them- after the fifth time you realized he only made you beg because he liked it. Together, with Robin's help, you have taken care of all the birds you have found. Even after they were healed, they chose to stay at Dewlight Pavilion, much like the origami birds that hid everywhere. Every morning, they would greet every with a delighted chirp and sometimes land on your or Robin's shoulder, but never Sunday's for some reason.

"Let me get some bandages and a intramedullary pin." you said, rushing to one of the shelves with the medicinal items. After making sure the bird was asleep for the procedure, you carefully drilled the pin into its bone before bandaging it up. Sunday gave you a small kiss as you placed the still sleeping bird on one of the pillows. "What was that for?" you asked, smiling at him. "I am not allowed to kiss you?" he chuckled before looking at the bird again. "This won't be the last, right?" You nodded and turned to him again. "Does it bother you already?"

"It does not. As long as there aren't too many staying here and you still remember that I'm present, of course."

GALLAGHER

"Here you g- what do you have there?" Gallagher just finished giving you your drink before he saw the stray hound that sat beside you. "Oh- this is Pee-wee." Gallagher remained silent before Siobhan laughed at the name behind him. "Pee-wee? That's his name?" he asked before silently mourning over the given name of that dog. You chuckled to yourself as you sat on one of the bar stools with your drink in hand and the hound also jumped onto one of the stools. "I was kidding, handsome. His name is Dexter. Fits more, don't you think?" you took a sip as he exhaled in relieve. "Oh thank god." Dexter swagged his tail as Gallagher pet him before turning to you. "Where did you get him?" he took notice of the amount of dirt in his fur and some injuries on his ears. "Near Dream's Edge. He was starving when I found him. Can we pretty please keep him?" Dexter barked at your idea and Gallagher found himself agreeing.

However, to what he was not agreeing was to you bring even more stray dogs to the bar, to the point where even the local Penacony monsters were unable to enter and the bar quickly lost customers.

"Ahem, don't you think you kind of... overdid it?" Siobhan asked you and Gallagher nodded, "They need to leave. Especially those who aren't even injured." you shook your head as you sat on the ground with almost five dogs trying to lie on your lap. "I'm unable to do so." Gallagher groaned as he gave up, sitting beside you and letting some dogs also lie on his lap.

"At least get them out of the bar. Argue with the Hotel Staff to let them wander around."

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inarvii · 6 hours

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₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS

Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.

Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.

wc - 3.4k

A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.

Veritas Ratio was a Needle.

At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds.

His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way.

So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit.

Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does.

And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature.

“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”

- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius

A fool.

Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office.

That is what you were. That is your nature.

A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?”

Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past.

It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy.

But could you do such a thing?

You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity.

He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act.

He shouldn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He’s over that.

Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more.

But who might this fool be?

Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns.

Yet, there’s nothing.

There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.”

“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”

- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius

Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. The new semester started and students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near.

“Dr. Ratio.”

It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.

He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons.

He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever.

He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side.

“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.

Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him.

But then he takes his first look at you.

Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the look of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you.

“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you.

“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton.

Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions.

You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.”

He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut.

“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another.

“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”

“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs. His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind.

“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought.

A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh. An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that.

He picks up the book.

He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly.

“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”

He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him.

“Which is your favorite?”

Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you.

Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot.

“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away.

His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back.

“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”

- Intelligentsia Guild

He ignores you.

That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him.

So he does just that.

He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more.

So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them.

Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.

Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.

He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him.

As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.

You made sure not to dirty them.

“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.”

- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings”

“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor.

You smile at him—book held in hand.

He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something.

But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page.

“You read about me?”

Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly.

“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.”

He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “Your quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.”

His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach.

“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?”

He sits there in silence looking at you.

“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.”

He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re a fool. Through and through.”

“Is that so?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“Do elaborate, Doctor.”

He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.”

“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours.

“Your an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.”

“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him.

“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.”

You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.

You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you.

“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“

“Leave the genius Society,” you finish.

Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to.

“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”

He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult.

You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’

“Barely?” You ask.

“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk.

You lean over it, your spread ou hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”

Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains.

You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.”

A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind.

He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis.

“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.”

“But not from me?”

Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself.

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present.

“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens.

He stays silent.

“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity.

If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even.

Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”

“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.

“What else are fools good for?”

He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”

Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns.

He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment. There was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive.

“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?”

What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively.

“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”

You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”

And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.

Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”

He’s in silence.

He says nothing because he can’t say something.

You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him.

He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly.

Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your face is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”

You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness.

His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…

You are none of what he had made you out to be…

Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius.

But a kind soul.

He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared.

His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book in his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap.

For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.

Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap.

Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.

One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come.

“THEIR silence was deafening.”

- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank

Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle.

But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin.

ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3