this is where the legends come from.

a place to note all character related things for lowellhq. current characters: george elwyn & ludvig sørensen.

[bettermcn]

The Puppy Head Tilt™️

[seizethenightagain2]

I just adore his smile 😍❤️

[wild-hcvrts]

i think i missed the gun at the starting line → solo.

TAGGING — Lou Sørensen, George Elwyn. LOCATION — Lowell campus, Portsmith.  DATE & TIME — July 10, 2022; morning. NOTES — Lou arrives at Lowell Academy for the first time and tries to put his best foot forward settling into his new home. WORD COUNT & TRIGGERS — 1,406; none.

There’s a static buzzing just beneath his skin, at the base of his teeth— the urge to bite his lips, the edges of his fingers, the urge to bounce his leg or play with his hair— all of it crashes together in the once calm spaces in his mind until Lou feels as though he could simply vibrate into non-existence from the sheer force of anxiety rolling through him. He wonders if anyone can tell? 

If they can glance at him in passing— see the lanky, messy-haired boy with crystal-bright eyes and heart pounding rabbit-quick in his chest; he wonders if the nervous smiles he offers to every man who meets his eyes are targets being painted on his back or a cry for help that he can’t seem to voice. He can’t remember the last time he felt so anxious— giving his senior thesis to Professor Dowell, maybe, or stammering his way through asking Blue Sommers on a date his freshman year before all of that had fizzled out before Lou had even a moment to think to scramble for a grasp on it.

The pressure in his chest isn’t distracting so much as it is familiar and the submissive has the idle and altogether unwelcome thought that he might burst into tears the moment someone spoke to him. Is it frowned upon to do that? Or do people expect that of him? Do they see his anxiety and just think ‘oh, yeah, of course this kid’s a sub’? Or do they recognize it as the uncontrollable force it is? 

Lost in his thoughts as he is, his favorite boots scuffing against the well-maintained concrete paths on the way to the main office, Lou isn’t paying nearly as much attention to the world around him as he should be. It’s a curse, really. He’s always either stuck half in the clouds or crammed between the pages of a book— a boy built on fairy tales and relics and the promises of better tomorrows that he swears he can taste on every new experience; smell in the scent of every new morning. 

All of that is to say that when he runs head-first into a remarkably solid body it shouldn’t be a surprise in the slightest but it startles him so deeply he feels burnt by the contact as he stumbles back with apologies on his lips only to glance up and meet the gaze of a man who looks equal parts amused and concerned, with sea green eyes and a confidence Lou wishes he could hold even a fraction of between his fingers. 

“I’m s-s-so s-sorry, Sir,” Lou blurts before he can stop himself, watching the older man’s expression soften in an instant-- enough, for just a moment, to make the boy’s shoulders loosen and fall just slightly from where they’d drawn towards his ears. 

“That’s quite alright, love,” The man assures him with a warm smile and it takes Lou a moment to process the man’s crisp accent in the midst of his being utterly distracted by the term of endearment being tossed around so casually. “Did you need directions or something of the sort? I’d be happy to help if you need a nudge in any direction.” The man quirks an eyebrow as he pauses before his eyes light up and a flush blooms in the high points of his stubbled cheeks. “I’m George, by the way. Professor Elwyn, if you like.”

Lou nods dumbly, his constantly shifting gaze taking in the warmth of George’s smile, the full inch of height Lou holds over the professor and the feeling of his heart being stuck so firmly in his throat he’s certain he could throw it up. He knows, realistically, that isn’t possible and forces himself to take a slow, measured breath three times before he smiles, soft and shy. “I um, I w-would appreciate that, S-Sir.” He takes another breath, dragging his fingers through his hair as the sleeves of his sweatshirt fall over his hands. 

“It’s my first day, actually. The welcome packet recommended I try and arrive early for term if I felt like I needed the time and I’m pretty fond of being able to be in a place for a little while just to get used to it, you know? So I thought it would be a good idea but I wasn’t really prepared for how nervous I would be and now I’m—” He stops speaking abruptly, the tips of his ears burning with the force of the blood flooding into his face. His father always told him he talked too much when he was nervous and the thought of Aleksander Sørensen is enough to make Lou’s stomach churn uncomfortably and he forces his attention back to Professor Elwyn who looks wholly unbothered by Lou’s stammering and inability to stop talking. 

“Could you take a deep breath or two for me, dear?” George asks, startling Lou outright even as the submissive follows the soft order almost out of instinct rather than acquiescence. George’s smile makes his scalp feel like it’s tingling when it’s directed at him and Lou smiles sheepishly in turn, reaching up to adjust his glasses with a slow exhale before he straightens his spine and his smile becomes more confident. “Good boy,” George pats him once on the shoulder before he turns on his heels and motions for Lou to follow-- something he does with all the grace of a baby deer.

“You must be Mr. Sørensen, yes?” George asks as the main building begins to loom in front of them. Lou blinks rapidly in the face of the question before he nods equally as quickly-- his messy blond hair-- not brightened in any considerable way by the summer sun-- falling into his face until he brushes it away with a passing hand. 

“Yes, Sir, um-- that’s me. How did you know that? Aren’t you... um, do you teach the submissive students?” He asks, curious but more than a little dubious that George’s answer will be ‘yes’ considering their earlier interaction. 

George laughs softly and shakes his head, “No, no, nothing like that. I’m just a bit of a busy body I suppose you might say. I like to keep an eye on how all of the students are doing as best I can but I do try and keep track of anyone coming in on scholarship, you know? I apologize if I frightened you at all with the question.”

Lou shakes his head, wondering if every Dominant at the Academy is as personable and kind as Professor Elwyn. He doubts it but it doesn’t keep him from hoping that maybe there will be more of them than he’s expecting. “No, it didn’t scare me. It’s um, it’s nice, actually. To know that I have someone I could come to— the more the merrier, right? I’ve heard the course load here can be fairly intense and it’s good to have support wherever I can get it. At least, that’s always been my experience.” He pauses again, glancing up at the massive building the pair have stopped in front of. “This is where the magic happens, huh?” He jokes weakly, earning another laugh from George. 

“Something like that, yes. I’d recommend popping into the front office— it’s just inside and to the right— they ought to give you a few more things you can read through over the next week or two and a key to your dorm room. My office is on the second floor so feel free to pop by any time you’d like, hm? I always welcome the visits.” George pauses, checking his watch before he offers Lou a regretful smile that the blond thinks he must really mean. “I’ve got a meeting, I’m afraid. You’ll be alright now, yes?”

Lou nods, “Yes, Sir. Thank you! I um, I really do appreciate it. I’m sure I’ll see you around!” He raises his hand in a wave as George turns to leave and he feels marginally less like the world is going to end in the next three seconds when he turns back to face the main building. 

He still isn’t certain that he’s ready for this but he’s gotten this far and Lou’s never been the sort of person keen on giving up in any respect. Besides, if there are people like Professor Elwyn at the Academy, well, how bad can it really be?

[wild-hcvrts]

thread → cause for concern.

TAGGING — George Elwyn & Sinan (Ihsan) Demirci.  LOCATION — Academy grounds around Hargrave House.  DATE & TIME — October 25, 2021. NOTES — George stumbles across Ihsan, out after curfew, during one of his evening walks of the grounds and tries to sort out what's going on.  STATUS — Archived, headcanons agreed upon for completion.

george elwyn.

It wasn't a habit he'd intended to settle into, these rambling walks around the grounds when he ought to have been doing something more productive or simply leaving altogether. He had everything he needed to crash at his office if he felt the need to do so but his restlessness had taken him outside instead, something George wasn't going to complain about even with the chill that seemed to permeate everything as the weather began to change. There were a great many nooks and crannies to be found on campus that allowed him and, he was sure, countless others to pause and simply breathe in the peace of the evening. He wasn't unaccustomed to running into students or other members of the faculty during his occasional evening walks if the hour was early enough but it was a quiet night, nothing more than the sound of animals more comfortable in the cover of the night.

He huffed out a breath, admiring the soft fog left in its wake for a fraction of a second before he heard a rustling around the corner and his brow furrowed. It was likely none of his business or even something he needed to pay attention to in the first place but his curiosity, as it often did, seemed to guide him more than good sense as he stepped around the corner to find a familiar-- to some extent-- figure rustling about in the garbage.

"Ihsan?" George made a point to remain at the end of the path that led closer to the younger man, his concern not yet outweighing his care for any boundaries the other man might need or want in that moment. "Is everything alright? It's... a bit late for this, isn't it?" A silly question and one that George half-regretted voicing the moment it passed his lips, though he certainly wasn't going to go through the fumbling process of taking it back now. He took a few, fairly tentative steps, towards his student with nothing more than genuine concern in his expression. "It's after curfew."

Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.

Ihsan had done his best that night to clean up. The air had been heavy with the metallic scent of blood. It made his stomach turn, and he actively had to breathe through the impulse to throw up as he pulled the knife from his door, plucked the bloody petals from the ground, and crumpled up the note, tossing it all into a small trash bin from his room. He ruined an entire bath towel scrubbing everything in the area; the door, the handle, the hardwood floor below, and threw it into the bin as well with no hope of washing out the stains. When everything was as clean as he could make it, he tied off the bag and threw it into his closet.

Over the days that followed, he considered what to do with it. Should he turn it in? ( But to who? Who could he trust with something like this? ) Should he hold onto it, for evidence in case someone came by to follow through with it’s threat? ( Or could it somehow be used to incriminate him in something awful? His fingerprints were on the knife now, after all, and he had no idea where the blood had actually come from. )

Finally, he decided it just needed to go, come what may. Right or wrong, it couldn’t stay wrapped up in his closet anymore — he was losing even more sleep than usual over it ( the dark circles beneath his eyes were testament to that ), and he felt a chill trickle down his spine every single time he walked past the closet door, knowing it sat there, waiting for him to decide. To do something with it.

Leaving the dorm after curfew was a risk, but he didn’t want anyone to see him; to stop him on his way, to ask any questions about the bag he carried. He wanted to get rid of it as quickly and as painlessly as he could in the dumpster behind Hargrave, to bury it beneath layers of filth, and watch from his balcony as the truck came by in the morning to take it away. Ihsan was leaning into the dumpster, trying to clear enough trash out of the way so that his bag could sink to the bottom, when he heard his name and nearly jumped out of his own skin. He spins around, the bag still in hand, to find the source of the voice, though the accent was enough of a give away by itself. “Professor Elwyn,” he breathes out, finding the man standing there a small distance away. His pulse pounds loudly in his ears, the dread of being caught swallowing him whole.

How the fuck was he going to get out of this?

“Curfew, right, yeah. I know. I know it’s really late. I just had to, uh..” The instructor took a few steps forward, and Ihsan a few back until he was pressed against the dumpster with nowhere left to retreat. “I just had to throw this away, before it made the room smell or.. uh.. something.”

george elwyn.

"... Right."

George paused the moment the word passed his lips, recognizing the dubious note in his voice that he made a note to correct when next he spoke. Beneath the general sense of confusion he felt as he watched Ihsan practically try to melt into the dumpster as he drew even a fraction closer he was more than a little concerned. He'd always been the sort of man inclined towards helping people with little regard to the circumstances that had aligned to give him the urge in the first place and he quietly ran through a priority list for the situation at hand: first and foremost, assuring Ihsan that he wasn't going to be punished for anything at all when George's first concern was his well-being.

"You're not in trouble, little one," He said after a moment, taking a step away from the younger man to be doubly sure he wasn't going to intimidate the poor boy should he continue to encroach upon his space. He was a large man-- always had been-- and had always been remarkably careful with how he operated in the space of others in any capacity.

"I really do want to know whether you're alright, frankly. That's..." He hummed, his face twisting for a moment before broad shoulders rose in a shrug and George studied the other man with more than a little curiosity. "That's really my primary concern at the moment. I understand if you'd rather not tell me exactly what's in whatever it is you're trying to toss and I... won't pry, for the moment. It seems a bit unnecessary in my list of concerns at present." He exhaled slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to wrangle his thoughts into something markedly more clear. He was a well-spoken person more often than not but he wanted to be clear in his goals and desires in this sort of instance, especially. Though Ishan wasn't one of his students in any direct way George had always made it a point to get to know as many of the Dominant students as he possibly could, even if that knowledge only extended to their names until they found themselves in his class at some point during their careers at the academy. In some cases that wasn't a milestone they reached and George contented himself with getting to know them as best he could outside of that particular parameter.

"Are you in trouble? Not-- with me or with the academy or whatever else that could mean. Do you need help? In some way I could manage, in this moment. I'm only asking you to talk to me - just for a moment. Could you do that? Please?"

Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.

Wary eyes could almost see the thoughts arranging inside the other man’s skull as he judged the bullshit story he’d been given. Not a single part of him expected the professor to actually buy it, and his breath hovers nervously in the awkward silence between them, suspended in his own anxiety as he awaits to see how the professor would respond.

What he didn’t expect was to hear the larger man’s voice soften. For him to take a step back, as if returning to him that little bit of space so that he didn’t feel completely backed into a corner. The words he chose were warm, soothing — appealing to the parts of him that so badly just wanted to feel safe. Ihsan listens to them all, to how genuine his concern sounds, and against his better judgement feels himself slowly, carefully beginning to settle.

“I’m okay,” he says after a stretch of time following his questions, unsure where else to start but to confirm that he wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. As far as being in trouble went, “I don’t know, I might be,” is his honest answer, his tone heavy with exhaustion, his weight shifting uncomfortably from side to side where he stands. “It might be nothing. I could just be overreacting. I don’t know.”

He lets the bag down next to him as his hands raise to move through his hair, brushing the mess of loose strands back from his face, growing frustrated with how to handle this. He knew he’d have to get around explaining what he was trying to throw away eventually; it was unlikely that the professor would just let him wander back to his room with it, or leave it uninvestigated were Ihsan to toss it and just walk away.

“I just want you to know that I didn’t hurt anyone, okay? I don’t know where any of this stuff.. where the blood came from. It was just on my door one night, and.. I didn’t know what to do with it, I just.. wanted to get rid of it all.”

george elwyn.

Alarm surged through him at the mere mention of blood in relation to anything at all involving a student and though he found his eyes flickering quickly over Ihsan's form as if to confirm for his own sake that the younger man was, in fact, unharmed as he claimed to be. The moment that confirmation settled in him-- cool water on a burn in the sense of the balm it provided him-- George turned his attention towards something he'd always been gifted with: solving any problem he possibly could in any way he needed to.

He felt another urge building as his brow furrowed, his eyes-- made almost ice blue in the dim light-- shifting to the bag beside the student with a slow exhale. He was likely far too curious for the severity of the situation but he took a tentative step towards Ihsan and raised his hands, palm open, a peaceful show of gentleness he hoped would continue to allow him to relax.

"I'll stop right here if you'd rather I not come quite so close right now, but I need to see what's in the bag, Ihsan. I can't really sort out how to help you if I don't have a full picture of what you're dealing with..." George trailed off, his words quiet-- the same low, easy timbre he carried just about every conversation with-- though he was aware that it was mixed with the slightest bit of urgency born from the idea of Ihsan being in anything resembling concrete mortal peril, though that was an exceptionally dramatic way to phrase it.

"Is someone threatening you? Is this something you want brought to... someone with more authority than myself? Or would you rather we just try and sort it out? I promise you... I'm concerned with helping you as best I can. I won't tell a soul if you don't want that and I'll be as supportive as I can with... whatever it is that's going on. I know you don't know me but I do swear you can take my word for it on this, for whatever that might be worth."

Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine.. I just.. Didn’t expect anyone to be out here this late.” Ihsan was starting to develop a habit of being caught out after curfew. The implications of his run in with Sebastian hung treacherously over his head, and now this. But unlike when the second year Dominant had him cornered in the library, the professor was being very careful to reassure him that he was in control here. How much he was willing to bet on his sincerity, well.. that he actually didn’t have control over at all. This was going to unfold, Elwyn was going to see the contents of the bag, and however he decided to handle it after that was out of Ihsan's hands.

“I..I don’t know, maybe it’s a threat.. It might just be a prank.. It probably is just a prank. I mean.. After what happened to Westinghouse.. It’s got to be some hazing shit the legacy students are pulling off…” Ihsan gestures that he could finally come closer, and kneels down next to the bag himself, working open the knot that holds it closed. He pulls out the towel, soaked in dried blood, and unfolds it on the ground so that the other man could see what was wrapped inside; the knife, the rose and it’s petals, the note. “I don’t know who I could bring it to even if I wanted to. I don’t even know if I can trust you with this, honestly, but.. here we are. If it is a prank, then it’s me against them, and we all know how that’ll end. If it’s real.. then.. then I really don’t know what to do.. I just wanted it to go away.”

He plucks the crumpled up note from the towel and tries his best to smooth the page out before handing it to him so he could read it:

'You’re not welcome here. Leave, or next time the blood might be yours.'

“Well?” he asks after a moment, his voice thin and quiet, betraying the resurgence of his fear, “.. what do should I do, Professor?”

george elwyn.

Throughout his life George has had a reputation for being a cool-headed person, for not falling into fits of angry or intense emotion when it came to handling problems; he seemed, or so he'd been told, unflappable in the utmost but the thought of any students being threatened for what he imagined were completely asinine, elitist reasons had him clenching his fists so hard and so quickly that he was distantly aware of the sound of his knuckles popping from the force before he relaxed his hands pointedly, drawing in a deep breath as he studied Ihsan quietly.

"Would you like to tell the Headmaster?" He asked quietly, his expression earnest as it tended to be-- blue eyes soft and full of concern. "If Westinghouse were still here..." He trailed off, a frown deepening on his face. "I would feel confident that we could handle this in a manner that would give you a reasonable expectation of fairness in all of it. It's not... well, to me it feels against the values the academy is trying to espouse to allow students to be threatened on its grounds. I'm aware that may not be as true as I'd like for it to be."

After a moment's consideration George slipped his mobile from the pocket of his slacks, took a photo of both the note and the contents of the bag Ihsan had intended to throw away and tucked all of it back into the bag neatly, handing the bag to the younger man silently. "Throw it away, dove. When you're ready or when you'd be willing - I can take it to the Headmaster myself or we can do it together. I can keep your name out of it if you'd like. But I do think... as much as it adds variables to the equation-- that telling Blackwood would be the best step. Do you agree?"

Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.

Immediately at the suggestion of telling Blackwood, his head shakes. There was a distinct difference at Lowell between how things should be, how they were presented to be, any how they actually were. That was especially true for himself and all of the other scholarship students. Survival was dependent on recognizing that and learning your place within it, whether it was fair, or right, or not. Often times, it was not.

At best, he expected nothing to come from it were he to bring this to the headmaster, even if he had a professor standing with him when he did. At worst, well.. At worst, maybe it really would be his blood on the next round of threats. “It’s.. a nice thought. But you’re right, it doesn’t feel like it’s as true as it should be.. And, honestly? I can’t afford to gamble on the chance of it. I need to get through this program, and.. That kind of attention? I just.. I just can’t.”

He stiffens as the man begins to take photos of the note and everything he’d been trying to get rid of. It made his stomach hurt to think that even once it was all taken to the dump that a piece of it would still be here, lingering out of his control. His concern was clear across his face, his frown deep and his brows furrowed as he continued to speak, wishing his words were as realistic as they were rational. “You.. should just delete them,” he says, honestly, taking the bag back from him. “I’d rather you did. You weren’t supposed to be here to see this, and I’m not going to bring this to anyone.. It won’t change anything except make my life harder than it already is. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do.. But it’s just not that easy.”

george elwyn.

It's consistent, really, the way George processes all at once how disappointing the world he lives in is and continues to be. That people are never as equal as he hopes they'll be-- that there are so few opportunities for people to truly thrive and be left well enough alone in a system that leaks bigotry from its pores, as far as he can tell.

He realizes all at once how ridiculous the thought of trying to present his case to the Headmaster would likely be-- how unlikely that would be to work atop how naïve he has to be to assume that it would fix anything. His mouth twists at the anxiety springing to life on Ihsan's face and he regrets taking photos as he cycles through and deletes them, showing the younger man the screen of his mobile a few seconds later as he shakes his head.

"I'm... I apologize," George says softly, his brow furrowing. "It's not my decision what ought to be done here and I shouldn't have assumed that--" He pauses again, shaking his head as he tucks his phone into his pocket. "I shouldn't have assumed that my solutions would be anything more than... fanciful hope that something would be fair for once."

When he pauses again George takes a slow breath and reminds himself that it isn't Ihsan's fault he's blundered and even after hours he ought to behave just a bit like a professor, shouldn't he? "I respect your decision. I could walk you back to your dorm hall if... you would like not to be alone but that... might be as presumptuous as I've been so far and you're welcome to turn that down, as well. I get-- caught up in trying to help, I'm afraid. It's always been..." He stops, smiles wryly. "One of my more obnoxious qualities, or so I'm told."

Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.

“Thank you..” he sighs in relief, seeing the confirmation on the other’s phone that he’d decided to delete the images. “It’s okay, I.. I actually really appreciate your fanciful hope,” he echo’s the other’s choice of words that, under normal circumstances, he’d have found incredibly sweet. “I just.. can’t afford it, myself.” He knew now that the other man genuinely only wanted to help him, and Ihsan was disappointed in himself, in the academy, and his entire situation as a whole, that he couldn’t accept it.

The offer to walk him back to the dorm comes as a surprise, half expecting the other to leave him after he’d declined his assistance. For a moment, he thought to decline that as well, not wanting to trouble him any further and take him so far out of his way. But.. after his late run in with Sebastian last week, and the ever-present threat the note promised, well.. some company, especially the kind he offers, sounds really nice. “If you don’t mind the walk, I’d like that, actually.” Finally, he finds a smile of his own to share with the professor, “it’s a good quality to have, even if it does come off as a little obnoxious. I think if it were more common, maybe things would be different here.”

Finally, Ihsan’s able to toss the bag into the dumpster and he closes the lid on top of it. Come what may, at least it would all be gone come morning. He looks back over to Professor Elwyn, his shoulders lifting into the shrug of someone resigned to roll the dice, gesturing towards Hargrave House. As they start on their way there, his curiosity can't help but ask, “if.. this somehow comes back up around, or something..  Would it still be okay if I came to you?”

HEADCANONS FOR COMPLETION.

After George agrees not to go to the Headmaster about the apparent threat being lobbed at Ihsan, he walks the younger man back to his dorm and earnestly agrees to support Ihsan with anything he needs during his time at school and otherwise. George has a soft spot for all of the students he’s met during his time as a professor so it’s almost reflex to agree and he hopes he can help Ihsan with anything the other man might need during his tenure at the academy. The events of this thread mark the beginning of that relationship dynamic between them. 

[wild-hcvrts]

thread → office hours.

TAGGING — George Elwyn & Camilo Morales.  LOCATION — George’s office, Lowell Academy.  DATE & TIME — October 25, 2021. NOTES — George, over the course of holding office hours, finds Camilo kneeling outside his door. they begin a conversation from there.  STATUS — Archived, headcanons agreed upon for completion. 

george elwyn.

It had taken all of a week or so for George to come to the conclusion that an open door policy was, perhaps, the best measure he could drum up that would encourage students of all classifications to speak to him on any issues they felt required a willing ear or his particular brand of empathy or charm or... whatever it was that kept him fairly busy in the chatting department as long as he'd been at Lowell. He wasn't unaware that he was an objectively good looking fellow and it wasn't all that hard to sort out that that was at least half the reason he had visits so regularly but even that wasn't something he minded. In truth, he enjoyed the attention more than he might admit outright but he could certainly admit it to himself. It was and had always been -- delightful to be wanted so openly.

His eyes flickered from the documents in front of him to his half-open door at the sight of movement on the other side, and he smiled, unable to help himself. He would wait a while longer, a few more minutes, perhaps - content to grade as he allowed his visitor to collect themselves as they needed to or simply be on their way if they were dropping something off as tended to happen on occasion. He scribbled a note or two on a recent paper he'd collected from his students before he stood and stretched, languid and easy in every motion.

He stepped towards the door and pulled it open a bit wider with a firm hand and more than a little curiosity, his eyes falling to the young man kneeling beside his door - a sight that only made his smile widen as something warm settled in his chest. "Mr. Morales," George greeted, his voice low, a warmth there that he did nothing to hide. "To what do I owe this lovely sight, hm? I wasn't aware I would be treated to such things this afternoon. I'm certainly not complaining, mind you. Can I help you with something in particular?"

Camilo.

Camilo had debated himself on whether or not he should come. After all, the questions he had in mind for Mr. Elwyn might benefit from a submissive's perspective. In which case, his Submission I teacher, Mr. Chambers would have good insights. Truthfully, Camilo was intimidated by Mr. Chambers.

He seemed to be tough and experienced; everything Camilo was not. It made Camilo feel afraid that he was going to be misunderstood. It was only upon passing George Sir in the halls that Camilo came to learn of the man, what subject he taught, and as luck would have it, his open office hours.

Camilo found himself wandering down the halls of the Instructor offices one afternoon when Oak was too busy to meet in the library and he wasn't courageous enough to brave the cafeteria alone. He knelt down and arranged himself outside the cracked door. He didn't want to knock, not yet. He was rehearsing in his head.

That's when he saw it. The warm smile that sent a tingle up his spine. The inviting intonation of his words. Compliments like 'lovely sight' and 'treated'. Camilo sat straighter and he blushed, a smile feathering the corners of his lips.

"Hello Sir," said Camilo. "I hope I'm not interrupting..." He lifted his brows. "I can come back later!" Though the man wasn't shooing him away Camilo still needed him to know his intent was not to bother him. "Just...um. I heard you have office hours and I keep---" he paused. "Well, I've been trying to figure out something. To do with my submission and boundaries." He tilted his head. "I think I got in over my head. And that wasn't good, but then...I still want to submit. So I guess I just..." He nibbled his bottom lip. To the point Camilo. "How do you know when you're really ready for something you know you want to do but you're afraid you can't handle?"

george elwyn.

"I'd like nothing better than to have a chat with you right now, darling," George assured Camilo with a warm, almost lopsided smile-- the sort that his mother, when he was a young boy, had always gently (and playfully) told her reminded her a bit of a very adorable puppy. A quality he'd been told on more than one occasion he might still have whether he paid all that much attention to it or otherwise. He pushed the door of his office open fully-- creating enough space beside him that Camilo could slip in without any difficulty-- before he motioned for the younger man to enter as he considered the question being posed to him.

He'd been teaching at the academy for several years and in that time he'd developed a particular code and brand of dominance that occasionally made him feel as if he lived on quite a different planet from his students and even some of the faculty. A sort of dominance style that people either responded incredibly well to or seemed to find weak or wrong in ways that gave George a migraine just thinking about when he had any moment to really ruminate on it in an unproductive sort of way.

"Please take a seat," He said after a moment, finally closing the door to his office before he retreated to one of the plush arm chairs he kept arranged in something of a sitting area he often took tea in when he wanted to relax. "I think that's a deeply personal thing to consider if I'm being entirely honest about it," the Dominant mused, raising one leg to rest his ankle against the opposite knee as he continued to try and construct a response he would be happy with. "I think it's incredibly important to maintain your boundaries with any dominant partners you might be doing scenes with or even more casual things that aren't quite in the same sort of strict framework that a scene might be," George started, meeting Camilo's eyes easily as he spoke. "I don't think there's anything wrong with pushing towards something you're interested in in increments. I believe 'baby steps' might be a phrase you're familiar with and I do think that's not an awful sort of thing to consider in this case. If you have the right partner-- a good partner-- they would never push you into something you're not ready for-- they would work with you until you feel more comfortable. Comfort is a necessary foundation for being able to push boundaries, don't you think? I've always thought so, at any rate. What is it you want to do that you're concerned about, darling?"

Camilo.

Camilo climbed from his knees to a standing position, though he was almost sad to do it. On his knees was something of a comfort position when he was feeling anxious enough and had something big on his mind. He supposed it was just the submissive in him, though he knew not everyone was comfortable with such displays, especially if they were more stranger to Camilo than not.

The boy arranged himself in a seat across from Mr. Elwyn and chewed his lip briefly while his thumbnails clicked silently against one another. He stopped as soon as he realized he was doing it. His mind had a habit of whirring in the background without his conscious direction of it; thoughts coming and then swirling around one another. Especially in areas of indecision.

"Well, I.." He didn't want to contradict the man. "I was trying like...exposure therapy...not real therapy but just kinda the same concept? And anyway. Dominants here aren't always so um. Patient, Sir. Not the younger ones." He meant one in particular but he knew that generalizations would serve him better here. "They're the ones we're supposed to be learning and I don't know that they care so much about...like...talking about stuff like that? I feel like they kinda just want to do Dom stuff and get it over with."

He shrugged. "All I want, Sir, is...to be able to let go and to..." He looked up. "Get spanked and all that. Without getting hurt in a way I don't want to." His cheeks flushed, knowing the implications. "It's for school!" Camilo quickly asserted. "I wanna volunteer, see. For a demonstration in class someday. I just have to work up to it first. I don't know how I...do that. In a healthy way." He was leaving out that he was uncomfortable being punished in public spaces but that was, in Camilo's mind, a need to know thing.

george elwyn.

It took him all of a handful of seconds to note the anxiety rolling off of the boy and George shifted in his seat, head canted gently to one side as he studied the submissive-- waiting patiently as he tried to work through everything he seemed to want to express. After a moment, he uncrossed his legs, resting both feet firmly on the floor as he smiled warmly at Camilo, "Come here, love." A beat, "I'd like you to kneel here," he pointed to an empty space beside his feet where he would be able to reach out and touch the younger man easily if he so chose or felt the need as they continued to speak.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that method, really," George mused, a sound caught in his chest somewhere between annoyance and acceptance as the boy explained the behavior of the Dominants he'd worked with to that point. "Unfortunately I think that tends to be the sort of Dominant behavior that's... encouraged not even at the Academy itself but in the world at large. It can be... difficult to dissuade any of them from pursuing it-- it's what they know. I can't fault them from behaving as they were raised. I-- try very hard to help them break some of those habits when they reach my course and for some of my students it's very successful." He took a deep, slow breath as he considered Camilo's desire to safely explore kinks with a partner who wouldn't be more eager to push the sub past his limits than allow the exploration of those limits in a safe space. "You're... more than welcome to refuse-- I certainly wouldn't be offended. But would you like to explore those things with me? Working up to the things you'd like to do? I have... quite a bit more experience than your peers given our um, well, age difference, as it were."

George paused, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair-- the unruly curls only springing away into yet more chaos as he grinned at the younger man. "I can only promise that I... hope I would be the sort of Dominant who would delight in nothing more than giving you space to explore the things you want without making you feel as if you're going to have a bloody panic attack because I'm incapable of listening or having an unselfish desire. I promise I do not have either of those issues. Would that be something you're interested in?"

Camilo.

Camilo felt grateful for the chance to kneel. Kneeling outside the door had felt sort of grounding. Even if Camilo's mind seemed to be wired for anxiety, the submission was helping to overwrite that wiring, and tug him into calm slowly. Like calming the body in that position also calmed the mind.

He slid to the floor and crawled over to George. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears but it felt so good to be in that position. There was something about the fact that George invited him so easily and ran his fingers through the sub's curls which assured Camilo. He wasn't a bother. This was all okay. And, his intuitions for getting to his academic goal were smart.

It was simply the younger Dominants that had been the issue. It all lined up perfectly with the experiences he'd had at Lowell so far, too. Magnus and Ford had both been perfect in drawing Camilo's submission out of him in a safe way. Maybe the third time would also be the most charmed time, too? Camilo wanted to find out.

His throat dried and his pants immediately tightened at the thought of being bent over in front of George, spanked by the man. "I..." Could it be that he could even volunteer for George's class? He cleared his throat. Nodded vigorously. "Yes, Sir," said Camilo. "I think--" He leaned in like it was a secret. "I think I like experienced...experienced Doms." His cheeks flushed, thinking of his previous encounters with teachers. He'd been missing out on making the connection in his head to this gold mine. Camilo sat straighter. "You make me feel safe, Sir." He gave a smile.

A thought occurred to him. "Uh--wait. Do you want to...I mean are we negotiating a scene right now, Sir?" He wanted to know if this was the time to bring up parameters, context. Safewords. All that. Though, he realized too late that this kind of eagerness could be off putting. Especially if George was just trying to be kind.

He inhaled. Tried to get a handle on his headspace through his breath. "What I mean is um...I'd like to talk a little more about your offer. What would that look like, for you, Sir?" Let him give the specifics. Don't get in over your head, Camilo.

HEADCANONS FOR COMPLETION.

George and Camilo continue their discussion of safe words and boundaries for what will eventually become a scene. George intends to make Cam comfortable with his submission as well as give him a space to submit with a Dominant partner who will not push him further than he wants to go. In his mind, George is intent upon making it clear that having a Dominant partner who considers what their submissive partner wants and needs over the course of any interaction should be more the rule than an exception. For his part, Camilo’s trust in George begins to deepen over the course of their time together during the afternoon.