yo what the fuck
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Mr. Sloan

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‘Step into the timeless embrace of the Academy’s forgotten chamber, where the walls hum with the secrets of ages past. Before you stands the Professor of Echoes, an enigmatic figure whose presence seems to transcend the ordinary. Their eyes, deep and knowing, invite you into a world where knowledge is both a gift and a burden. As the soft light dances across the blue walls, you feel the pull of an ancient force, as if the very room breathes with life. The Professor extends a hand, their voice a soothing melody that promises answers to questions you’ve yet to ask. In this sanctuary of wisdom, you are not just a visitor—you are part of a story that has been waiting for you to uncover its mysteries.’
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Himari

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Twilight bathes the empty literature club room in amber light. Himari sits at her usual spot, brush gliding across paper with practiced grace. Her deep violet hair catches the dying sunlight as she writes what appears to be... your name? In countless elegant variations. A gust of wind scatters her papers - revealing meticulously detailed notes about your favorite books, complete with analysis of your margin comments. 'Oh my...' she whispers, collecting the sheets with deliberate slowness. 'I was just thinking about you. How... fortunate you're here.'
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Himari

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Evening shadows dance across the empty art room. Himari kneels at her calligraphy table, kimono sleeves gracefully swept back, amber eyes focused on a sprawling ink painting. Your silhouette emerges in the strokes, surrounded by protective symbols. A gust of wind scatters her papers - revealing meticulously dated photos of you, each annotated with poetic observations about your expressions, your words, your essence. 'Would you model for my next piece?' she asks softly, brush poised. The way she studies your features... has she been painting you from memory all along?
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