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Mafia Book #2 - PART I - The Black Iris - Chapter 2 - Time Machine

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

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PART I - THE BLACK IRIS

Chapter 2 - Time Machine

chapter word count: 4k words

This is it. She thought. It will finally end. Just one more step.

She breathed in anxiously a couple of times, her chest rising up and down rapidly, and after a few moments of gathering her courage, deep breaths in her lungs, she jumped.

She expected to be free falling for a couple of seconds until she inevitably hit the cold water down below, the impact probably shattering enough bones for her to be unable to swim, and drown if she somehow survived the impact.

However, instead of the liberating feeling of free falling and then the bliss of death, she felt herself dangling over the dark abyss under her.

Her whole body was being forcefully pulled back up by two strong arms, and she was surprised to see Minho's horrified, breathless figure.

Just like last time. he thought. I just can't stay away.

Seeing someone commit suicide never phased Minho. More often than not, he was the reason behind people taking their own lives instead of suffering at his cruel hands. So why did he intervene? Why did he run over to the other side as quickly as he could, praying that he'll get there in time to stop her?

He's certainly never prayed for anything else before.

Why did he care?

They only shared one kiss and some silent greetings from the other side of the bridge.

That's all.

So why did he find himself pulling on her arm with all his strength?

"Yah," he started. "if you really want to give up on your life so easily, give it to me."

Did she hear him right?

"What are you saying?" she asked, perplexed. "Why did you stop me?"

Despite what she just tried to do, she was composed and calm. The only indication that she could've been nervous were her still rapid breaths.

"You heard me. Instead of throwing it all away, give it to me. I'll handle it with care, doll."

His gaze was burning through her skull, but the scariest thing of it all was that he actually looked like he meant it.

He wanted her. Badly.

And he always got what he wanted, one way or another.

Minho let go of her arm and bent down to pick her shoes, helping her put them on.

Her still expressionless face turned into a frown, as she spoke:

"Minho, there's nothing you can use me for. I don't feel anything anymore. I'm broken beyond repair..."

"I doubt that, Iris. So, why don't you join me?" He stood up and held out his hand towards her expectantly.

"I'm not doing this for you, just so you know. I'm doing this for me." He continued, bringing a small chuckle out of her.

Iris noticed the familiar lust in his eyes and she knew that it had nothing to do with her whatsoever. She knew he was infatuated with her from the first moment their eyes met, and the touch of their tongues two months ago only proved so further.

She had to be crazy to take his hand.

But what was there to lose that she hasn't already lost?

So, as crazy as it seemed, she grabbed his hand and held on to it for dear life.

He reciprocated the gesture and gently folded his palm to completely capture hers, both starting to walk away from the bridge.

"Where are we going?" she asked, walking next to him leisurely.

"Hmm, what about a hotel for now? I can't take you home just yet."

"Why not? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you? A few children you're trying to run away from?"

"Pff, girlfriend? Why not wife?" He chuckled.

"Because you don't wear a ring, nor do you have any mark on your finger to indicate that you ever wore one."

"Observant."

"That's my job."

"Yea? What do you do for a living?"

"I studied psychology for a few years, and now I'm a therapist." She said, before muttering a small "Was." under her breath, too quiet for Minho to hear.

"Beautiful and smart. But doll, since you're going to follow me, you'll need to stop working. I'll give you as much money as you want anyway."

"... As you know, I was planning to die tonight, so I quit my job already. But really? How much money is that?"

"You name it. No amount is off the table."

"1 million dollars."

"Sure. That's nothing." He shrugged.

"Hm, is that so? Let me ask you one question then – are we talking cash only?"

Minho stopped and looked at her.

"What is it, doll?" Iris smirked.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Hmm." She shrugged. "Since you know what I do for a living, shouldn't you also tell me what you do?"

"Seems you already figured it out somehow." A mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"Perhaps. Let me know how close I am. Your fighting skills are immaculate, and you carry yourself with a lot of confidence. You could've been a policeman, in a perfect world, maybe, but since you're willing to throw so much money out the window for, essentially, a stranger, I'd say there's no way. You're a gangster, maybe?"

He fooled around with many girls before, with some of them even for multiple months until he inevitably got bored, but they never came close to at least guessing what he did. No matter how much money he'd throw their way, how many details he'd share. They were all oblivious.

But Iris?

Oh, how intelligent she was. Way too delicious.

"You knew, but still chose to follow me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm. You know, Minho? I've had many clients and I've dealt with many criminals in my short-lived career. Maybe some of them your friends?" She winked playfully. "It became so easy to see through them... they're all like glass. Their intentions are clearly visible to me."

"Is that so?" He asked, curiosity lacing his tone. He wanted to know more about her.

"You, however... seem to be more human than any other criminal or normal person I've met. Since I can't seem to get rid of you and you won't even let me die in peace... why not just join you and satisfy this curiosity of mine?"

"They say if you play with fire, you get burned."

"I'm not wooden, Minho. I'm gasoline."

Oh, how much he liked her.

"Why work with criminals, though? Why pick that field instead of living a chill life and listening to regular people's rants?"

"..."

"Is it the same reason that brought you on top of the bridge's railing tonight?"

"You're observant as well." She smiled. "It is. I just... wanted to get something back for myself."

"You've said that before."

"I didn't, though. I didn't get it back. I don't know how to get it back. So, I did the only thing that could stop this... train of thoughts I can't shut down."

"What is it that you lost?"

"That's a story for another night, doll." She smiled. "Do take me to your house though, will you? No hotels."

"If you insist..."

~Iris' POV~

"Shit, you weren't joking when you said a million bucks is nothing to you." I remarked, as Minho led me to an enormous house in the heart of the city. If not for the large gates where the garden starts, you'd think this was in the middle of a public park, judging by the size.

"Of course I wasn't." Minho rolled his eyes.

I was impressed. This was one big ass house you normally only see in movies, or on Google Maps if you're bored enough, and it's so perfectly strategically hidden, that you wouldn't even know such a wonderful mansion is hiding among the greenery.

"So, who else lives here?"

"My brothers and sisters, you'll get along well." He winked, opening the big mansion's door.

As soon as you could peek inside, the first thing you'd see is a big ballroom-like space with an intricate staircase leading upstairs.

What kind of parties must be happening here? I thought, but brushed the thought away. I didn't want to end up caught in superficial details, even though getting lost in details was what I was most used to doing.

When we entered, a very attractive man stepped out of a room on the right side – what seemed to be a kitchen – and stared at us intimidatingly.

"Who is this?" he asked coldly, eyeing me up and down.

What a bad day to not wear my usual work clothes: the pencil skirt and my high heels. It would've been a different kind of power play, perhaps, taking into account the man's elegant attire.

"Chris, hello to you too." Minho replied, taking my hand in his protectively. His hand was warm, and his thumb grazed over mine assuringly.

You are safe. Is what he wanted to tell me. I will protect you no matter what.

This Chris dude, despite his daunting appearance, looked absolutely harrowing. His skin was dull, his eyes puffy, big dark circles surrounding them, and his hands were shaking a bit; he had ridges around his nails' bed.

Sleep deprivation and vitamin B deficiency. I thought.

"Yes, yes, hello." He replied, slight irritability in his tone. "Now, back to this question, who is this?"

"Well, 'this' is right in front of you, and you can address her directly." I spoke, taking my hand out of Minho's and handing it towards the man, in anticipation of a shake.

"I am Iris. It's nice to meet you, Chris." I put on my best smile, following his reactions.

He contemplated for a second before shaking my hand, his eyes staring directly into mine. They were devoid of any emotion; only an authoritative figure would be able to look so soulless.

"So, Iris, what brings you to my mansion?"

"You must be the boss, then." I smiled, my words making him raise an eyebrow.

"And you must know what we're doing, then. Minho, may we have a word in private?"

~Minho's POV~

"Minho, may we have a word in private?" Chan spoke, his cold gaze meeting mine. I needed to play my cards right.

What should I say? Should I lie? Should I tell him I'm in love with her or something? I thought, but before having enough time to react, Iris started speaking again.

"Chris, I'm a licensed therapist specialising in psychological criminology and Minho brought me here to help all of you manage your emotions. Of course, I won't interfere in any way with your business, nor do I care for it too much." she shrugged.

What game is she playing?

For a brief moment, confusion was written all over Chan's face, before it contorted with anger.

"Why?" He asked, annoyed. "What are you getting out of it?"

"Out of what?" Iris asked, her brows furrowing as if she was puzzled by his sudden outburst.

"Out of coming here."

"... A fresh start, and I've been promised some pretty bucks." She replied after contemplating for a few seconds. "So, I followed him." Iris smiled and pointed her thumb to me.

"Minho, I told you countless times that I don't need therapy, and what do you do? You go out of your way and bring in a stranger-"

"Don't you, though?" Iris interrupted him; her tone was harsh, as if she was threatening him.

"Look, I don't know what he told you about me, but-"

"He didn't tell me anything." She smiled. "I never get info on my clients from somebody else. I like to make my own analysis. Actually, before walking through the door I didn't even know your name, nor did Minho mention anything about you specifically needing therapy. But after speaking with you for just 2 minutes, I can tell you need help, and I can help you."

"I don't need any help. I already told you." He retorted, defence lacing his tone.

"Chris, let me point something out to you. You are currently trembling, and you are getting more irritated by the minute. You most likely don't know why you're shaking, nor why your hands and feet are probably tingling right now. Either that, or they are completely numb."

"..."

"Okay... since you let me continue... I can tell from a glance that you have a severe case of insomnia and a lack of appetite that is causing all sorts of issues with your body, mainly a vitamin deficit. I'm no doctor, though, so you might want to get that checked out."

Fuck, she's good. I smirked. She was really observant, and she completely got Chris' attention.

"No, I'm really okay-"

"What did you eat today?"

"... what?"

"How much?" Iris kept her professional smile on her lips.

"... one apple?"

"And yesterday?"

"..."

"Two days ago? Last week? Last month?"

"Look, I told you-"

"Aren't you feeling more drained of energy than ever?"

"..."

"And right now, Chris... you started involuntarily fidgeting. Are you feeling restless? Why are you breathing faster and sweating, hm? Could it be that... everything I said... was spot on... and you're getting nervous?" she smiled gently.

"This doesn't mean anything..." he rubbed his nape.

"Let me help you."

"I don't need help."

"We can get to the bottom of it together." She spoke calmly.

Her sweet voice was becoming an obsession; it was melody to my ears. Would she speak that gently to me as well?

It was like magic. The way she articulated her words made you want to open up to her, to let her know anything and everything. Maybe what they say is true, and every human being has something to them that makes them special. Some sort of magic.

Maybe that thing about Iris was her soothing voice.

"No." Chris replied again, lowering his head and rubbing his forehead. "You can't do anything to help me. No one can."

"That's not true."

"Unless you can change the past." Chan chuckled bitterly. He probably didn't realise it, but he was opening up to her just by telling her this small detail – that there was something in his past that needed to be changed somehow, that he was powerless in this regard, however, and there was no way to change anything.

It was the first time since killing Hyo that Chan seemed not so opposed to the idea of trusting someone new.

Maybe it was because I was the one to bring Iris here. He could've pulled out his gun and shot her, with how impulsive he's been lately. This was the reason why I was reluctant to bring Iris to this place, instead of a hotel. We've all been walking on eggshells around him.

But he didn't.

Maybe he still trusted my judgement.

He didn't ever hold Emilia's death over my head, even though I shared part of the blame for it. I, too, trusted Hyo more that night, and accepted every word she told us without questioning them for a second. Still, in Chan's eyes, I was not at fault, and he never blamed me.

Maybe that's why I felt so responsible for everything, why I so desperately wanted to make things right.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Iris touched his shoulder, making him flinch. However, he didn't move away. "I can't turn back time."

It was such a simple sentence, but it managed to bring a smile to Chan's face. The first genuine one I've seen lately. Last one was at Changbin's birthday party, but even that felt like a lifetime ago. It just occurred to me that he no longer smiles as carefree or brightly as he used to. It was so weird to see Chris like this again, but it felt so good, too. Liberating, almost.

Maybe all he needed all this time was to open up to someone else, a stranger with no ties to what went down that could objectively analyse the facts, that wouldn't be emotionally involved.

"I can, however, help you make sense of what happened in the past, and make you start accepting where you went wrong, instead of blaming and tormenting yourself to the point of self-destruction." Iris continued, returning his smile.

Her magic seemed to have the same effect on Chris as it did on me, I figured after hearing a small whisper saying "Okay."

"Thank you." She resumed her spot next to me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

She must've been nervous as well, but she didn't let it show at all, like a true professional.

"Then... will you show her the house, Minho?" Chan scratched his nape and started heading upstairs. "I'm really tired, I'll try to take a nap for now."

"Sure thing, boss."

Iris grazed the whole railing with her fingertips so gently, I remember the way she drew circles on my nape when we kissed so many nights ago. She seemed so caught up in the details, that I wasn't sure if I wanted to interrupt her thoughts.

I guided her to my room, and she seemed so curious about everything, taking in as much as possible. When I first saw her and got mesmerised, I had no idea she was going to end up being here.

I've never brought anyone back home before.

"This place is so beautiful. Who are these people?" She spoke after a while, stopping in front of the wood cabinet on the left side of the room and glancing at the big picture on the wall.

"That is... every important person that ever stepped in this house."

"Tell me their names." She smiled. "And their stories. Something about them that makes them be who they are in your eyes."

"Okay..." I chuckled. "This is Jisung, my best friend. He gets me. Hyunjin is... a very artistic person. Maybe you'll be invited to the greenhouse one day, to paint."

"The greenhouse?"

"Mhm. It's an art studio in the back gardens... I'll walk you through them tomorrow, during light. The gardens are very beautiful. I think you'd like them."

"Yea." She hummed. "I think so too."

"This right here is Felix, he lightens up any room he walks in."

"His smile is beautiful." Iris complimented.

"This is Momo, she is my partner. We do business together..."

"What kind of business?"

Should I tell her?

If she's going to live here, she should know, right?

"... gun trades." I hesitated but replied after a while.

Iris just nodded.

"Changbin... is a very supportive friend. He's the next in line if something happens to Chris or me."

"He's hot." She mumbled, and I playfully slapped her arm.

"Don't." I said with a slight chuckle.

"Just saying. He hits the gym, and it shows." She shrugged.

"Anyways, this is Jeongin. He used to be... really happy. But now... you'll see. You should try talking to him too, maybe you can help him."

"Yea. I'll try."

"This over here is Hyo. We don't really... talk about her."

"Why not?"

"She... betrayed us." I spoke, remembering that night almost 2 years ago when I so blindly trusted her. "This is Seungmin. He has snarky remarks, but he's a funny guy."

"Snarky remarks. My favourites." Iris chuckled.

"You already know Chris and me. Should we go to sleep?"

"You didn't tell me who she is." Iris pointed out to the one person I didn't want to talk about, for I was still holding on to the guilt of that night.

"That's..."

"The reason why Chris wants a time machine." She pointed out plainly.

"Mhm. Emilia. Soon will be her 2-year death anniversary."

"Chris looks so happy next to her..."

"He was. He was so happy, and we all ruined it."

"How?" Iris touched my right cheek gently, wiping away a tear I haven't even realised fell off.

"I really don't like... looking at this picture."

"I know. That's okay."

"We... killed her. All of us, with the dumb decisions we made that night... when Hyo betrayed us. I can't understand how we trusted her so blindly..."

"You know, Minho? The harshest betrayal never comes from your enemies."

"I know..."

"You were not wrong to trust someone." She whispered.

"I was not right either."

"We all make mistakes. What Chris feels right now... is not your fault. Don't put all the blame on yourself."

Her hand was still on my cheek, and I leaned into her touch.

How did she know? I wondered.

How did she know that I've been pondering on this over and over, that the only reason I've been coming to the bridge at 3 AM was because it was the only place where I could stop myself from thinking of everything that I could've done differently?

How did she know that I needed to be comforted?

I haven't even shared that much, but she seemed to have it all figured it out. She seemed to understand Chris, what happened, and me.

I let my head fall on her shoulder as she took me into a warm embrace.

Her waist fit perfectly in my hands, and as I pulled my head away, I pressed our lips together. I kissed her eagerly, loving her sweet tongue on mine, but unlike last time, I didn't want to do anything that would risk her moving away from me. I let her be in control, and she thoroughly explored my mouth, our breaths turning into short gasps in the few seconds we would spend apart.

Her hands found their way to my back, holding on to me as if I were an anchor to her. I wanted more, and for a short moment, I thought she wanted more as well, as our bodies stumbled on the bed and she got on top of me, not missing a beat.

She kissed me hungrily, but I happened to be even hungrier than she was. It was getting excruciatingly hard to let her have her way with me when all I wanted was to spin us around, get on top of her and fuck her senseless.

Still, I didn't do anything besides responding to her every touch the same way, my hands never once leaving her waist.

After a bit more kissing, she pulled away, the smeared lipstick on her face and innocent look in her black eyes driving me crazy.

"I'm sorry, Minho. I think it would be best to stop here and go to sleep." Her weight disappeared from my body, and her words left me cold. "It's been a long night for me..."

"Okay." I replied, wanting to seem indifferent. Even so, she could read me like an open book, so she just chuckled.

"Don't be disappointed. In normal circumstances you'd be here alone, and I'd be lying on the bottom of the lake, lungs full of water."

"Do you really have to put it that way?" I retorted. For some reason, I disliked hearing about her death, although what she was saying was true.

We weren't exactly from different worlds. If I would've done anything stupid enough to get caught, I might have even gotten to know her. But still, both of us finding solace on that bridge, with the abyss below us, felt like fate pulling its strings.

"Why, Minho, does death bother you?" She smiled.

"It doesn't. I just want to find out why it brings you so much comfort."

She looked away. It appears I once again hit a nerve.

"I will bring you some clothes to change into. Do you mind sleeping together?"

"What, you have such a big mansion and no free rooms?" She chuckled lightly.

"There are two empty rooms..."

"But not really empty, are they?"

I nodded. She got it once more.

It felt good to not have to say out loud that Emilia's room has stayed the same ever since she left, or that there were still Hyo's socks in the drawer next to the bed in her room. So much for having empty rooms.

"Let's sleep together, then. I don't mind waking up to an attractive man that's madly in love with me." She laughed.

"Don't push it." I joked back and threw her some of my pyjamas.

She went to change, and when she returned, we laid down next to each other in bed, our feet touching.

She closed her eyes and sighed, letting her body relax against the pillow.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered.

"This day... was insane. What am I doing here?" She chuckled.

"You gave me your life, remember?"

"Mhm. Will you give me yours as well?"

"Only if you tell me how you do it."

"How I do what?"

"How you realised how Chris was feeling, how you knew not to ask further when I told you about the rooms... how you knew that we've been hurting..." I closed my eyes as well, feeling myself get sleepy.

"It takes one to know one." She whispered.

"You were not too far off earlier." I replied, feeling myself slowly drift off to sleep. "I am kind of... in love..."

"Sleep." She commanded with a slight chuckle in that persuasive but soothing voice of hers, and listening to her, I gave in, the events of today tiring me to the point of exhaustion.

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

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pocket-luv101 · 11 months

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A Loyal Lion // CynoNari

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Cyno adopts a baby lion, mistaking it for a kitten. When Tighnari learns of this, he decides to help him. (CynoNari, Inspired by Jing Yuan’s lion).

Tighnari heard numerous rumours about General Mahamatra Cyno—from his cold personality to his ruthless methods. He dismissed most of those things as mere gossip. Though, he never met the man to have an opinion on him and he doubted he would meet the man. The Matra didn’t have a reason to investigate him and he was too busy with his studies to socialize. He didn’t expect that Cyno would approach him first.

Tighnari recalled a time when he almost went to the Matra for help. Last month, he noticed someone following him but they would hide each time he tried to confront them. He decided not to report the incidents because the person disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. His senses were sharp and he never felt endangered by the person. He assumed that they were merely a shy classmate who wanted to collaborate on a paper but gave up.

He sat in a quiet corner of the House of Daena and heard familiar footsteps approach him. His initial curiosity to see who they were turned to shock. The General Mahamatra stood in front of him with a lion cub on his shoulder. Cyno held out a book to him and started to speak. Tighnari yelled over him: “Why did you bring a dangerous animal into the Akademiya? It might be a baby but it’s still a dangerous animal. You should know the rules against animals in the Akademiya!”

“Animals are permitted as long as they are registered with the Matra. They deemed that Crocodile King to be well trained and behaved. I also had an unbiased Matra make this assessment. Everyone must be judged fairly, even the General Mahamatra.” Cyno explained but Tighnari’s perplexed expression didn’t change. An awkward silence fell over them and he thought of something he could say. “Why do cats always get their way? They’re very purr-suasive.”

“That’s a lion!”

For the first time, Tighnari saw Cyno’s expression change. His brows furrowed together and his lips tipped into a frown. Cyno took the small animal from his shoulder and placed it on the table between them. The baby lion yawned and pawed at Cyno’s hand to be carried again. “Are you certain that Crocodile King isn’t a cat? He certainly acts like one.”

“Your new pet is a rare breed of lion only found in Gavireh Lajavard. They’re often mistaken for cats in their early years because of their size and white coat. Their lion traits will appear in a few years. You couldn’t have known so it was wrong for me to yell at you. I’m sorry.” Tighnari tended to snap in frustration whenever he thought someone was being reckless or endangering others. “I never expected the General Mahamatra to like cats. Though, the name Crocodile King doesn’t fit a cat or lion.”

“It’s a character from King of Invocation. My favourite light novel. Crocodile King was gravely injured and sealed into a casket. He’s a very strong character who survived countless fights and duels.” Cyno’s eager gaze begged Tighnari to ask him more about the character. Tighnari wondered if he was able to talk about the book for him to jump at this opportunity with him.

The man before him was different from the rumours that he heard. Studying the man now, he couldn’t see the stern Matra who stood in front of him only a few minutes ago. Cyno’s eyes were soft as he sat down and played with the lion. “I found Crocodile King half crushed beneath a dead lion. I assumed the lion ate its mother. Such a small thing can’t survive in the desert alone so I decided to adopt it.”

Cyno didn’t add that he wanted to protect the cat because he saw himself in the small, lonely creature. After his parents died, the Temple of Silence decided to send him to the Akademiya. Both would benefit if he learned how to control the divine spirit within him. He was scared and alone at first but Sage Cyrus took him into his family. He hoped he could be someone like that to others, starting with a small cat.

“Caring for an animal isn’t an easy task, let alone for a lion. You need to consider Crocodile King’s needs and train him. Lions are dangerous animals, even if you raise them from birth, but you can train them.” Hearing Cyno’s reason for adopting the animal, he couldn’t help but feel empathy. “I will lend you a few textbooks and manuals. I’m from the Amurta Darshan.”

“Your offer is a little ironic since I initially approached you to return this. You left it in Pardis Dhyai. Crocodile King was the one to find it.” He said and handed a notebook to Tighnari. “I appreciate any advice that you can give me. I was lost enough when I thought he was just a cat.”

“My first suggestion would be to shorten Crocodile King’s name? It’s a bit of a mouthful. How about just ‘King’?” At his suggestion, the lion purred happily and walked to Tighnari. It rubbed its tiny head against his arm. Cyno pouted and the expression was surprisingly endearing. Tighnari placed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. He added: “Crocodile King is your pet so it’s your decision.”

“King seems to have decided for me.” Cyno reached across the table to pet the lion. “I’m currently assigned to patrol the House of Daena and I should return to my route. I stopped to give you this book. When are you free to help me train King, Tighnari?”

“Fridays mornings, I have classes in the lab but my schedule is free after that. Meet me at Pardis Dhyai at noon.” Cyno nodded and then stood with King on his shoulder. Tighnari would’ve liked to talk with him a little more but he couldn’t keep him from work. His familiar footsteps as he walked away caught his attention and he jumped to his feet. “Wait, Cyno!”

Cyno didn’t know why he would stop him but the urgency in his voice made him turn around. Tighnari tapped his finger against his notebook and asked, “What were you doing in Pardis Dhyai when you found my book? Someone has been following me all month. Not much can get past my ears. Your footsteps sound the same as that person’s.”

“The Matra opened an investigation on you. Unlike other Valuka Shuna, you are quite sociable. Our suspicions were piqued when you started study groups with students outside of your Darshan. We couldn’t ignore the possibility that you were gathering people with different expertise to form a coup. It’s my duty as General Mahamatra to investigate anyone who would break the cardinal sins or spread Forbidden Knowledge. But, I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

Instead of sounding offended or concerned by the Matra’s investigation, Tighnari’s voice was almost teasing. “Since you stopped following me last month and I haven’t been arrested yet, can I assume that you don’t believe I’m dangerous anymore?”

Cyno’s investigation had concluded that Tighnari was a kind hearted man who joined many study groups to help others. Most scholars pursued knowledge for selfish wants such as pride or greed. Tighnari was different. Though, Cyno discovered one dangerous aspect of Tighnari that he overlooked in his investigation. His smile had a strange effect on him.

“King, no jumping onto the table to steal food. You’re no longer the size of a cat. At this rate, you’ll destroy all the furniture in my home.” Tighnari chastised the lion and it whimpered in reply. He steeled himself against the animal’s large eyes. The lion was now the size of a lamb but it still acted as if it were a cub. “All of my training is pointless when your owner spoils you so much. Cyno should be here to pick you up soon. Actually, he was supposed to be here an hour ago. I hope nothing happened at work.”

Since his job as the General Mahamatra kept Cyno busy, Tighnari would often care for King. He didn’t mind the extra work because they grew close with Cyno. He looked forward to seeing him each day. He glanced through the window where dusk was settling on the sky and bit his lip. It was rare for Cyno to be late without sending a letter to tell him why.

He heard footsteps outside his door and his ears twitched in excitement. The way King bounded towards the foyer confirmed that the person was Cyno and Tighnari rushed to let him in. When he reached his door, he noticed how his heart raced. He ignored the feeling and hid his eager reaction before he opened the door. The moment King saw a small gap in the doorway, he ran through to greet Cyno. Tighnari felt a little jealous that the lion could be more open with his feelings than him.

“Someone’s excited to see me. I didn’t know being a few minutes late was enough to make you miss me.” Cyno knelt down and petted the lion. “How about a joke to make you feel better, King? Then again, Tighnari might yell at me. He says my puns are cat-astrophic. Do you get it?”

“We’re not characters in a fantasy world where humans and animals can understand each other.” Tighnari sighed. He would hear a new joke from Cyno everyday and his dry humour never improved. Yet, he had to admit that he would think about them once they were alone. “You’re late. It’s dangerous to walk back to the Akademiya at this hour so you can sleep here if you want.”

“I went to Lisa to ask her for some advice. You’ve helped me take care of King and trained him. I wanted to thank you and she suggested that I take you out on a picnic.” Cyno held up a basket. Thinking that the basket was a toy, King tried to swipe at it with its claws but Cyno lifted it out of its reach. “You’ve been staying up late studying and you need a break. This picnic can be a change of pace for you.”

“A picnic? Like a date?” He whispered to himself and his voice was too soft for Cyno to hear him. Tighnari hugged King and rested his cheek against its mane to hide his blush. He watched Cyno’s expression for his reaction. They started spending time together to care for King. While they became friends, Tighnari didn’t know if Cyno could feel something more for him.

“If you don’t want to go, I can leave this basket here. You probably ate already and your finals are in a week. I’ll take King home now.” Cyno’s nervousness slowly overtook the small courage he gathered to ask Tighnari on a date. When he held out the basket to him in exchange for King, Tighnari wrapped his hand around Cyno’s wrist.

“Where are we going for our picnic? I know a beautiful place in Avidya Forest and King can join us.”

Cyno’s feet felt heavy from nights without sleep but he dragged his body forward. After his journey through the desert, he wanted nothing more than to rest. Chasing scholars who fled their crimes was one of the more difficult parts of his job. He imagined Tighnari and King waiting for him and how they would greet him with a wide smile. They were enough to push him forward.

As he approached the border of Gandharva Ville, he noticed a large, white and black ball of fur. Warmth and happiness filled his chest when he realized that it was Tighnari sleeping against the lion. He could remember when King was small and slept on Tighnari’s tail. Cyno had sent him a letter that he would return that night and they likely waited next to the road for him.

He knelt in front of them and King opened his eyes. It yipped happily but it couldn’t stand to lick Cyno without waking Tighnari. Cyno read its thoughts and stroked its white mane. When he first came to the rainforest, he thought he lost his home. He found a new one with Tighnari and he hoped their family would only continue to grow.

“I’m home.” Cyno whispered.

#genshin impact #cynonari #cyno and tighnari #genshin impact cyno #genshin impact tighnari #fanfiction

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leporellian · 10 months

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Since you wanted asks about Leporello...

What are your favourite renditions of each of his arias?

i have a lot of trouble picking specific favorites in general when it comes to things, and leporello is no exception. although ferruccio furlanetto continues to be my favorite leporello singer, it’s hard for me to pick definite favorite recordings of each aria because i tend to have pros and cons for each (also i am not actually that musically trained so it’s hard for me to pick out what’s meant to be the “ideal” singing style vs Sounds i Like). so it’d probably be better to list things i Like Seeing in leporello arias!

notte e giorno faticar:

this aria is so fascinating because while The Catalogue Aria is the perfect encapsulation of leporello as a character, notte e giorno is the perfect encapsulation of the entire show right from the getgo. starting it all with leporello’s abject frustration with who his master actually is before slipping into this idealized, endeared vision of what the don represents that isn’t actually real…. maaaaan mozart you sonuvabitch you’ve done it again.

that being said it’s so funny to me how people use this to “prove” that ackshually leporello wants to be the don and do what the don does and would be as bad as him or whatever. 1) the music in notte e giorno, with its clumsy steps indicating lep’s pacing, is meant to endear the audience to him. 2) the things leporello would like to have if he were a nobleman in this aria is shit like “ample food” and “sleep” and “not being forced to stand out in the rain” which feels like it is pointing to something entirely else and not whatever weird ass take people have on this guy

yes when opera characters act in time w the music it looks like some mickey mouse cartoon shit. however as a guy who grew up on warrior cats amvs i will never get tired of that shit. have him pace in time with the music it’s fun

him starting the opera by pacing, as a side note… he’s so autistic (positive) (unironic)

the catalogue aria:

i don’t think i’ve ever seen a catalogue aria that fully encapsulates what i see in that aria. that thing is THE leporello character study and i think it needs to be given as much complexity as mi tradi, as- if you take their placement and purpose in mind- they are linked together.

i am really not a fan of when productions make the catalogue aria into leporello making fun of elvira or dunking on her… leporello and elvira seem perplexed by each other -later- because they see themselves in each other. but this is too soon in the show to establish that without leporello coming across as mean, which he often does in that take on the aria

however i DO like the idea that he gets so wrapped up in the catalogue that he fails to notice her reactions to it. autism, etc.

the catalogue aria is funny in its absurdism but it should be taken at least somewhat seriously. note how mozart chooses to set it in D (which is the grief/consequences key and the driving point of the show) and not the F or G keys (which are ascribed to the comic arias). also note how dark the music suddenly becomes- complete with strings indicating shivering- when leporello mentions the don’s favorites are the “young beginners”. there’s layers here and i don’t think we’re meant to get the impression that leporello is ENJOYING himself here

basically it should start out like “look i’ve color coded it and everything! i love to sort and list things!” and then devolve into The Horrors without being melodramatic about it. there’s affection for the don, repulsion at his actions, a sort of escapism, fear, a sense of awkwardness… everything that makes leporello who he is is in that aria

when productions make it so the catalogue aria is leporello warning elvira or trying to get her away from the don, as the recitative before implies, they should get some kind of bonus point

ah pieta signori miei

the amount of times i’ve seen this staged in such a way that you’d think the director actually thinks leporello Did All The Things He Did Not In Fact Do is hilarious. anyway

this should be a comic aria. it comes at a point in the story that needs comedy because masetto and zerlina kind of duck out right after this and the bit before this is Anna Grieving Moments. however i think the zerlina leporello duet should not be included bc it goes Too much into comedy and also throws a monkey wrench into the pacing

the aria should actually prove to everyone there that leporello didn’t do All the Things he’s accused of because THIS is what confirms to ottavio that don giovanni is, infact, a Bastard, and if don “a nobleman wouldn’t do such things” ottavio of all people is convinced that’s saying something.

i like it when productions just stage this as leporello having a panic attack/meltdown. Real

i never feel like productions do anything interesting with how (when describing how the don manipulated him into the scheme) leporello just turns to elvira and goes “you know how it is”. but they should do something with that

yes i am a leporello apologist…. and what of it

#leporello

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musashi · 1 year

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i've made many a post about how i relate to no one on this website but one of the things that perplexes me the most is the general avoidance / rejection of resources and self-care. of these the weirdest breed of Person i see on tumblr is someone who will just, like, refuse to take pain meds when they have a headache or something else going on. however i think i have figured it out, finally: it's a combination of factors.

the weird obsession with christianity / christian values on this website. examining the politics/ideas of most tumblr users you will notice most of them are just christians with an LGBT skin on. you can see this in a lot of the puritanical anti-sex/anti-pleasure stuff but also a lot of them believe that suffering is like. noble, or something to be bragged about, instead of just deeply embarrassing and weird.

i ran a poll a while back and apparently the majority of tumblr users take their pills pill-first instead of water-first. this sounds like an incredibly tedious if not outright revolting experience. taking a pill should be, like, 2 seconds of nothing, but i learned from that poll that most people go out of their way to make the whole process an ordeal.

there is like a whole subset of people on here who either have something deeply wrong with them and need to seek medical attention, OR lie online about hallucinations for fun. i see this a lot w people talking about how benadryl makes them hallucinate (not normal but kinda understandable since it makes u sleepy) but i also just saw a post that 100% unironically implied their nsaids also did this. i once had a friend say they were too scared to take benadryl because they'd seen memes about it.

anyways thats my study on why tumblr users won't just be normal and take unremarkable medication that makes them feel better. join me next time for when i figure out why they brag about not eating and sleeping or whatever.

#wordy wendy

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 2 years

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Whomst Rambles: To My Star Season 2, episodes 3 and 4 (spoilers)

I don’t know how they keep doing this, but this show subverts my expectations in the best way possible.

The ex, aha at last. I’m on the fence about her characterization. On one hand, I can respect that she’s an individual, she seems smart and self-aware, and her conversation with Seojoon was hilarious. She is definitely suspicious, but she’s not digging. Yet. What I don’t get is her motivation. Trying to see it from her perspective: she moves back home after a long absence and runs into her ex (maybe high school sweetheart?) who she knows is back in the area. They seem to be on okay terms, so if this is their general dynamic, it’s a little perplexing why she keeps trying to smooth things over, because he is distantly but genuinely nice to her, and that’s not a bad thing—I have this dynamic with an old ex from back home when we meet, and it works well for us. You don’t have to hate each other or be pining for each other, you can just exist as two people who used to date. I’m actually interested in why she was hanging on to the couple bracelet. My real question (and hear me out) is why is she still interested in Jiwoo? Tbh there is (perhaps deliberately) no chemistry there, even in the “look we are cooking together and there’s a kid running around, there could be a future” scene, he doesn’t seek her out or try to subtly do anything special for her outside of a polite neighbor friend, whereas after 24 hours of Seojoon in the house, the guy who loves cooking already started altering his meal prep for him. In a weird way, she’s similar to Jiwoo, calm and stoic in appearance, blunt and practical. I wonder if that had something to do with it.

On that note, I do now have a working theory about the breakup, based on both the little we know about her and some of the things Jiwoo has voiced aloud as (concealed) fears: I think they dated and he very quietly fell for her very hard but she got the opportunity to study abroad and broke up with him before she left. Jiwoo has a chip on his shoulder in the first season about the idea that he’s just a passing interest to Seojoon, a brief thing to play with, and I wonder if that has its roots here—it would explain both her guilt and the reason she still seems fond of him.

So, theories on the breakup between Jiwoo and Seojoon—I agree with some others on here that we get cues about money still being an issue between them, and that around a year ago, Jiwoo was uncomfortable with the car Seojoon gave him. However, I don’t think it’s just about the money, either—he doesn’t list it in his fake little “why I dumped you” speech, and he’s had no trouble bringing it up with him before, so why wouldn’t he just say it? I wonder if it’s the whole package that’s become too much—Seojoon’s sociability and stardom that’s taken off again, the busyness, maybe someone he’s sees with a crush on Seojoon who he thinks would be better for him. Whatever it is, he clearly didn’t realize what breaking up with Seojoon would do—he isn’t cruel, just a little socially awkward and stubborn, and I wonder if his insecurity made him think Seojoon would be better off without him—which as of this episode, it finally seems to sink in that Seojoon is not doing okay. Interested to see how this will develop.

Those last few moments seemed crucial, not only for confirmation that Jiwoo has not remotely moved on from Seojoon in his heart (duh), but also because of what we learn about Seojoon’s mental health. Kim Pilhyun mentions he isn’t taking his medication anymore but doesn’t elaborate, and we’ve seen some signs of depression and reckless behavior. Im worried about our golden retriever pup. I think we must be getting closer to the core of Seojoon’s trauma, too—there’s something there about glass breaking, a weird light flashing in front of a child that almost looks like the light on a set, and anxiety over a child being lost and alone and frightened, especially with that casual mention of knowing what it’s like to not have your parents at an important school function. I have a feeling we are going to learn something awful happened when he was a kid that he has some kind of PTSD-related trauma about in addition to his general anxiety about things. Jiwoo’s slow shift in this episode says so much with so few words, and the sleepless nights are as much a cue to the audience as the gentle tone he eventually takes with with Seojoon—he can’t stop wanting to take care of Seojoon, he tries to comfort him in his own blunt way, and admits that the only reason he is being calm about the little girl missing is because Seojoon is panicking (with the unspoken implication that he is forcing himself to repress his own panic to watch over Seojoon and reassure him while he’s scared).

He actually comes to him, walks over and extends a hand/olive branch. It’s so curious that he asks Seojoon if he’s hungry before telling him the little girl is safe—maybe he’s so relieved he doesn’t think before essentially asking Seojoon to get food with him? Let me know if you have thoughts on this, I may have just been oblivious to some underlying tone and I am a little confused about what that question was about. He gets close to Seojoon willingly for the first time this season, and the kisses leave no doubt that he loves Seojoon.

So WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED I SWEAR—

Anyway. I need it to be next Sunday right now. I need Seojoon to be wrapped in a blanket asap and I need Jiwoo to keep up this honest streak and I need our boys to start communicating. (Please)

#whomst #to my star 2 spoilers #to my star 2 #jiwoo x seojoon

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urlocallesbiab · 2 years

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today my good buddy @generalized-incompetence introduced me to the semi-canon fact that tina was supposed to have an older brother who died & that hobbs took her in because he was that that guy's best friend, AND to her headcanons that "[his death] kicked off her dark period" and "he was always the perfect older brother and she could never live up to him and now she has massive survivor's guilt"

[image ID in alt text]

and god, all of that makes so much sense, it all lines up Perfectly!! my entire vision of tina came suddenly and sharply into focus after i'd considered that info!

so, my tina tevetino hcs/reading/meta (largely sponsored and influenced by the aforementioned good buddy):

(tw for discussion of addiction)

tina has undiagnosed adhd (at the time of s2 hobbs has been gently nudging her towards examining that possibility for some time already) — a silent, perplexing, largely unnamed curse that's been plaguing her since forever, that carried her from an unruly child to a troubled teen to a hopeless adult. she had started self-medicating while still underage, trying to relieve that nagging pressure of boredom/pain/restlessness/uselessness with whatever she could bargain from partying young adults; though she wouldn't admit that it was self-medication — she was "just having fun!". and that's why her dark period is "10 to 15 years" long: there's ambiguity, because her addiction started slowly developing even before the inciting incident, but her brother's death 10 years ago is when things totally went to shit.

he was older, more mature, and always had been smarter, known better, given solid, reasonable advice that she just failed to follow; he wanted what's best for her, but she kept sliding into what's worse & easier (& livable, doable, surviviable). he tried to get her to stop doing drugs, and often grew frustrated, and she always was stubborn, and they often fought.

she was 19 that year, having a "gap year" (doing fuck all) after graduating high school, promising her family that she would start studying real soon, send out applications, get herself together, just so they would leave her and her headaches alone for a few days longer; and then it hapenned. she knew that what he would've wanted was for her to go sober, and get into a nice college, and live a good life, but the only thing she could do was to only get drunker and drunker and drunker, chasing the rare glimpses of not feeling searing pain all of the time.

hobbs couldn't bear seeing his best friend's family like that, so he offered her a position — just so that she could have something to do, as opposed to rotting in her childhood home day and night. out of loneliness, and guilt, and feeling completely, utterly lost, she accepted. she wasn't (and wouldn't later become) stellar, or decent, or even passable at her job — but hobbs never seemed to mind. clumsily and with a great deal of trouble, eventually she settled.

she never got into college, after all. she's one of those people who are a little bit lost to time, suspended in it, who under the weight of some unspeakable burden or another seem to slow down, freeze even, their 29th year on earth not too dissimilar to the 25th and that to the 20th; it's been 10 years, but she's done her best to sleep through them. you wouldn't think from looking at her (or talking to her, or hanging around her for a while, or knowing her as a person — unless she just plainly told you) that she's almost thirty; she doesn't want to think about that either.

and then comes farah black, age 21. (note 1: this age hc is based on the d.o.b. in her fbi most wanted file; note 2: i have a wagon and a lil cart of farah thoughts related to her age, but that’s a topic for another time if we want this post to ever end.)

and tina meets a person who is both a perfectly clear reflection of herself and someone who couldn't be more different from her if she tried. here she is, 20-ish, young, something inexplicably wrong with her (it's the ocd, babe), crumbling under her older brother's caring pressure, — a still snaphot in sharp focus, face to face, features aligning. but also here she is, fresher & younger and more talented, competent, better at literally everything, going through the same shit in real time, all the while tina's shit is a decade old and stale and undealt with; she's 29 and an absolute nobody and hasn't even fully moved on; grief awashes her at the realization.

but in the end, of course, it all works out: they're similar in the ways that matter and different in all the right places. farah needed to slow down, and tina needed to pick herself up; farah needed to chill out a bit, and tina needed to take herself seriously; farah needed a new perspective and tina did, tina needed to let her brother go and farah did, and they both needed to move forward. and in the end, that is what they did.

P. S. bonus hc: mustard likes rap because tina likes rap and would often come by sherlock's house and lounge about and make him switch stations on the radio because his taste in music sucks

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency (tv 2016)#dghda meta #dghda headcanon #tina tevetino #farah black #drugs #addiction #substance abuse #this took entirely too many hours to type out. good fucking grief.#vika's personal dghda tag #vikarambles #id in alt text #sherlock hobbs #farina

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sciencestyled · 3 months

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The Unlikely Scholar: Genghis Khan and the Quest for Newtonian Wisdom

In the era when the vast steppes of Mongolia whispered secrets of the universe, I, Genghis Khan, stood not just as a conqueror of lands but as a seeker of knowledge. Our story begins on an unusually quiet morning, a rarity in the life of a Khan, filled with the usual clamors of war and conquest. But this day was different. It was a day that would set me on a path of discovery, humor, and an unexpected scholarly pursuit that even the sages of the farthest lands would chuckle over.

The morning's peace was abruptly shattered, not by the thunder of approaching enemies, nor by the urgent reports of my scouts, but by a rather peculiar incident involving a sheep, a steep hill, and a series of unfortunate collisions. As I observed the chaos unfurl from my ger, a thought struck me with the force of a well-aimed arrow: the movements and reactions of all things, whether a charging horse or a tumbling sheep, were not mere whims of fate but governed by unseen laws.

Curiosity piqued, I summoned my most learned advisors and demanded an explanation. Their answers, steeped in ancient wisdom and tales of distant lands, spoke of a seer named Newton, who had unlocked the mysteries of motion and force. The more I learned, the more I was amused and fascinated. How could a man, centuries and worlds apart, hold insights that mirrored the very essence of our Mongol strategy and life?

Driven by a newfound passion (and perhaps a desire to see my advisors perplexed), I declared that we, the mighty Mongol Horde, would embark on a conquest unlike any before: to conquer these laws of motion, to understand them, and to apply them in our grand strategy. The idea was met with silence, then confusion, and finally, laughter. The Great Khan, a scholar? It was unprecedented, yet the challenge was exhilarating.

The preparation for this unusual campaign involved no sharpening of swords or mustering of horses but the gathering of scrolls, the studying of diagrams, and the conducting of experiments that often ended in comical mishaps. Imagine, if you will, a horde of fierce Mongol warriors, not charging into battle, but observing the flight of arrows with scholarly interest, discussing the movements of the stars, and even conducting experiments with apples and makeshift pendulums.

Our quest led us to explore the fundamentals of motion, the forces that drive us, and the reactions they provoke, much like the strategies employed in our vast campaigns. Each discovery was a victory, each insight a conquest. We learned of the unity and force that guide a herd across the plains, much like our own unity as a horde propels us forward. We saw how the winds shape the land, akin to how our presence reshaped the empires we touched.

One day, while experimenting with the principles of motion, a particularly stubborn goat, intended to demonstrate Newton's Third Law, instead launched a series of events that led to an uproarious chase across the camp. The laughter that followed echoed across the steppes, a testament to our journey from conquerors to scholars. This incident, humorous as it was, illustrated the laws we sought to understand, embedding the lessons in our minds and spirits.

Our journey through the realms of motion and force was not just about conquest but about understanding the world in ways we never imagined. It taught us that knowledge was as formidable a weapon as the sword, and wisdom could guide our strategies as effectively as the most detailed maps of our scouts.

As I pen these words by the flickering light of the campfire, surrounded by my generals who now, too, share a passion for the secrets of the universe, I am reminded of the unexpected paths life can take. Our quest to conquer Newton's laws of motion has not only enriched our understanding but has provided endless tales of humor, curiosity, and the unquenchable thirst for knowledge that defines the human spirit.

So, to those who would listen, I say this: the universe is vast, filled with mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Even the fiercest warrior can find wisdom in the whisper of the wind or the flight of an arrow. And perhaps, in the pursuit of knowledge, we discover the greatest conquest of all: the quest to understand our place in the cosmos.

Thus, we turn to the article, "Conquering Newton’s Laws of Motion with Genghis Khan," not as mere observers of history but as participants in a journey that spans the bridge of time, connecting the wisdom of the past with the curiosity of the present. Join us by the fire’s warmth, and let us uncover the secrets of motion together, through the eyes of a Khan who found humor, passion, and insight in the pursuit of knowledge.

#genghis khan #motion #newton #science education #science #physics

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fatetcrn · 1 year

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if a King! or mercenary!Alistair ended up at the Conclave and wanted to see what his former fellows were up to and ended up catching the Orb and ended up with the Anchor... how would he feel about that?

I had sort of nebulously considered Inquisitor verses for my characters and Alistair was one that gave me the most trouble because he already has so much involvement but I had a lot of fun thinking about this and personally I think it really could work ( in my head at least! ). I chose mercenary!Alistair who spent years in exile as a sellsword / blade for hire as he has more freedom to move inconspicuously than if he were King. Also I just felt him being King and then Inquisitor was a bit too much for one man! Anyway I digress! OK SO: Alistair has been out of the Wardens for so long he has very little inside information on their activates. He has also been actively and purposefully avoiding them because technically he is a deserter. ( though not always successfully but they were not as forthcoming with him as they would have been ). He does begin to make plans to go to Orlais to rejoin the Wardens there. He also hears word that all the Wardens are mysteriously vanishing from Ferelden and that a small group of Wardens have been spotted travelling to and from the Temple of Sacred Ashes after a notable period of no activity. This is all very curious and concerning and Alistair is compelled to investigate so he immediately heads to the Conclave He doesn't remember much, nor that he saw Wardens there as things escalated very quickly:. Orb. Anchor. Explosion. Breach. Fade. Haven. As Inquisitor he has a greater interest in what is happening among the Wardens than other Inquisitors would have had. He feels every bit as deeply troubled and perplexed as he does in canon situations where he is the Warden ally and is shocked at how the Order has deteriorated. As an outsider now he would have to put the pieces together. This is frustrating for him as a former Warden who is now completely in the dark. Even Leliana's agents find it difficult to get much information from such a secretive Order but what she finds is troubling.

He almost kills Loghain when they meet in Crestwood but what he learns from him and Hawke is enough to have him set aside his grudges for a time. He is disturbed to discover the Calling he is experiencing is induced by Coryphaeus ( he would send Inquisition agents to investigate the Warden Prison though he would find little there ). He only has a vague hunch that Wardens might be involved in the Conclave explosion and this hunch is reinforced by what Loghain says and confirmed when regains his memories in the Fade. He doesn't banish the Wardens, however but takes the entire situation with Magister Livius and Warden-Commander Clarel and what he sees at the Ritual Tower and the siege at Adamant very personally. Hawke left in the Fade ( sorry ) and Loghain heads off to Weisshapt. Age and time has tempered him and they leave on... some sort of terms. While he is greatly disappointed and disillusioned by the Grey Wardens in general, he does see their plight and aims to help them rebuild. He has a few willing Inquisition Agents join so that he can have ears and eyes on the inside as well has a small contingency of Warden as Skyhold as liaisons with Weisshaupt. He also has a small team of researchers head out to study the taint and all possible leads that might bring a cure. This really got me thinking about Inquisitor!Alistair so I might go into that in more detail later.

#valorcorrupt #<3 #i tried to keep it short BUT #also i hope this makes a little sense!

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studentjmc · 1 year

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Entrepreneurship Students Aren't Taken Seriously

I remember sitting on my laptop, sifting through every single undergraduate program at Florida State University. I was almost done with my associate degree and still had no idea exactly what I wanted to do with my life. All I knew, was that I wanted a bachelor’s degree from my dream school. Then I stumbled upon a program that seemed to have fallen from the sky and right onto my lap, the product development track in the retail entrepreneurship program at JMC.

In high school, I was set on going to medical school. I wanted to start off by graduating from nursing school, then go on to study pediatrics. It seemed like the easiest and fastest way, ironically, to make a good honest living. I loved science and helping people which is why I wanted to go this route. I volunteered at the hospital as a freshman and most of my elective courses throughout high school were science based like anatomy and AP biology. Having a direct path to success was comforting and easy to express to others. Telling my parents, extended family members, and elders that I speak to while out that I want to be a nurse or a doctor when I grow up made their eyes light up and mine too.

Then a little thing called coming of age happened. I started to realize my identity. Who I really was and wanted to be. During my first day of my freshman year of college, the teacher asked around for everybody’s major and about 80% of the ladies in my class said their major was nursing. It was overwhelming to be a part of such a majority, I certainly didn’t like being like 80% of the women in my class and the thought of spending the rest of my life working in a hospital was displeasing. This was when I realized that I wanted to switch my major, on my first day in my first class, and it clearly didn't take much convincing. From then on, I spent most of my associates degree just getting the classes I needed to get the general degree and spending a lot of time exploring things that I genuinely liked to do. I started drawing and painting more. I’d spend some nights putting on my best outfits and prancing around with my friends pretending to be models and doing photoshoots. My friends and I even tried to start a clothing brand with a heat press and a bunch of random t-shirt graphic ideas. I didn’t realize that the real spark I had inside of me was the undying thirst to express my creativity.

After indulging in these interests, I was perplexed. How do I mix my passion for lending a helping hand to the world with my passion for creativity? Well, all my questions were answered with JMC.

Once I set my mind on the degree that I wanted, my answers to everyone asking about school changed and so did their reactions. Upon telling people about my major, I received many different reactions. Most of them are a mix of curiosity and confusion. My favorite responses when asked about my degree is when others ask about what I plan on doing with the degree after, or what does the program entail. My least favorite are “You know you don’t have to go to school to be an entrepreneur?” or “You’re wasting time and money by getting a degree rather than just starting your business now”. I wasn’t aware that everyone else had better answers about what to do with my life!

These responses frustrate me to no end. It’s like people don’t realize that I can get a degree in whatever I want, whether you think it’s useful or not. My main purpose of being at this program at this university is to not only get an education, but to take advantage of the immense resources that are available to me at a university like Florida State.

The experience that I’ve had here is like no other. I’ve gotten the chance to meet the most intelligent people through this program that are going to or are already doing amazing things in their lives. My professors are knowledgeable professionals with the intent to give you the most information you need to be successful not only while you’re studying at FSU, but for your business ventures in your future.

In the product development program, I’ve been able to learn and do things that would be extremely difficult to obtain outside of JMC. The quality assurance lab was an insightful experience where my passion for quality in a garment grew exponentially. The retail technologies class allowed me to be as creative as I wanted to be while working on projects where we digitally printed graphics, we made on adobe softwares onto a textile. We also created 3D files from scratch to then 3D print and eventually end up with a collection of wearable items.

The knowledge that I’ve gained at JMC is like no other. In this program we get a unique learning experience where we get to be hands on with everything we do while receiving a helping hand from our professors. Our professors at JMC are constantly reminding us that they are there as a helpful resource when it comes to getting a business off the ground. Whether you are a current student or an alumnus of the college, the faculty at JMC fully supports you in your endeavors and will connect you to every resource you need to be successful.

Hearing success stories about the students who were in the same classrooms as us is nothing less than inspiring. This program is creating the next generation of innovators and it is something that should be taken seriously. However, you can’t get too caught up on what others think about you and your major, because when the people who doubted JMC students then see the same students on Forbes lists, none of the negative comments will ring true.

Follow the blog for more anecdotes on my experience as a student entrepreneur! I’ll also be making informational posts in the future so look out for those.

#jmc #fsu #student entrepreneur #entrepreneurship

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alternamarian · 2 years

Text

2 — A Girl And A Prey

retrace

With their victory at The Breaking, the great ones have so effectively turned the odds to their advantage, that they have laid claims to the fates as their own instruments. And so, having acquired all these means of power, they have spent their energies on indulging their appetites. The ways in which they consume may not necessarily be amusing, particularly to those they so voraciously devour, but then —

[It is only a prey, grasping at things beyond its understanding.]

Generation after generation have since demonstrated the difficulty of existing without their favor. Forbearance, however, was among the maiden’s virtues. The patience, the kindness she showed, are recorded in the poems about her, in the stories that have survived the ages.

Maiden pure, endeared herself with ease

Practicing her virtue with constancy

Patient and fair to friend and foe alike

Forbearing malice and magnifying generosity

Recalling these lines stung me with regret, knowing as I did the disparity of my own conduct to hers. The recent events have exposed my efforts of emulating her as far from satisfactory, and dejectedly did I place the spray of blossoms over the book. I clenched my hands, which still ached somewhat. My endeavors at goodwill were not reciprocated, and my own virtue was lacking.

“What have you done to yourself this time?”

I had to scramble around to meet the young girl that addressed me. She also was older than I, with pale green hair and eyes, and likewise wearing a student’s uniform. But unlike mine, her own blouse and skirt were still spotlessly clean, crisp and neatly in place, as if she had just put them on for the day. They were finely made, too, as were the ornaments on her wrists and in her hair.

What I was most mindful of, however, was the look of pointed annoyance that adorned her face. It was a look calculated to impute all blame on whoever it was directed at, regardless of the events that actually transpired. I know because I have had to contend against those allegations, without much success.

So I hurried to explicate myself from its clutches. Unfortunately, an uncertain reply of “I … I fell,” was all that I managed to stammer out.

“You fell?” Her voice was flat with disbelief.

“Yes.”

“From where?” she demanded. Then her eyes narrowed. “Were you studying in the thicket again?”

I hesitated, but I could not deny the accusation. “Yes.”

The girl sighed. “You really get yourself in trouble by reviewing at playtime.” And she shook her head at me, as another peal of laughter echoed in the background.

“— In trouble! Why? What did I do?”

“What did you do? Look at you! You’re a mess!”

“... oh.” I could not deny that either.

“You know how clumsy you are. Why can’t you be like everybody else, and study in a place that stays in place?”

I cradled the book and the blossoms. “I like the gliding vines.”

“Why?”

“Because ...” She was tapping her finger, still requiring an explanation, and I glanced away momentarily. “— Because they’re kind.”

She snorted at this. “So you replay their kindness by taking their blossoms.”

“What? No!” I exclaimed. “They gave me these.” And I smiled.

The girl frowned again. “They gave you their flowers?” she asked, and I nodded.

She regarded me with perplexity. But not for long: she shifted her attention to my garments, and she made no effort to hide her disapproval. I think her glare was almost as severe as the haze. “You should fix yourself before we return to lessons. I’d get rid of the mess for you, but —”

“No,” I said hastily, and we were both silent for an instant. “I can’t go and clean up,” I resumed, apologetically. “I don’t want to be late for the test.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very punctual. But the sight of you — and today, of all days! I’m not bothered, of course, because I’ve had to accustom myself to your nonsense. Everyone else, though, will say you did this on purpose.”

“— On purpose! I know I’m clumsy, but how could I be clumsy on purpose?”

“You silly baby,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What’s the use of all your studying if you can’t get a clue? I mean they’ll say you’re trying to mess things up.”

“Well … I did mess myself up.” And I grinned wanly.

She discarded my attempt at humor. “Our classmates will think you did it for attention.”

“What?”

“They’ll say it’s because you’re envious.”

I shrugged and rolled my eyes in turn. “They always say that, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do. And you know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

“They’re probably peering through those windows right now, starting new rumors about the two best girls; about how you just had to pick a fight with me today, on this occasion.”

“What? How I what —?”

The girl yanked my arm. “Don’t look at the windows!”

Belatedly I averted my eyes. “I’m not picking a fight with you.” I may have raised my voice somewhat in saying this.

The girl smirked. “You’re not convincing anyone. They’re all sure that you wanted —”

“Then every one of them is wrong,” I cried out, passionately.

There was a slight pause. “They’ll never believe that.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re not fools, that’s why,” said the girl.

[— Unlike this prey.]

“As for our teacher, she might not allow you to take the exam at all.”

“Why? A dirty uniform can't prevent me from answering questions.”

For a moment the girl was too astounded by what I said. Then she shook her head again. “You’re such a baby. They tell you to read and write, so you do just as you’re told, like the dutiful little child that you are. But you don’t understand the instructions you copy, or what’s in those books that you carry about. You really think you’ve reviewed enough for the exam?”

I was silent. I had not said I was reviewing: I was done with that already. And I would have dutifully told her, if not for the vague awareness that she was no longer, at this point, expecting a reply. I had yet to fully grasp how people cling to ill-formed notions. I can’t say that I have since then.

To the great ones, I am sure, my words carry little value. For I, and all others, are tested against their own magnitude; the mistress and all the rest of them, absorbed in the conquests they have waged since the breaking of the world.

[Everything that is, only is because of the mistress.]

And the spoils of their victory have made them stronger still.

[Without her, there is nothing.]

The signal for the start of lessons rang across the schoolyard, and was promptly met by the groans of students protesting the end of recess.

“Well, we have to go back now,” said the girl.

But she did not leave, not yet. She glanced around. Then she took a step closer, and brushed her fingers over my sleeve. When she spoke, it was in a voice that, if not quite soft, was less harsh.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to —”

“I’m sure.” I tried to be calm and composed, but we both felt the flinch of my arm.

She smiled sardonically, in amusement as well as annoyance, but she relented. “Alright,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “You want to be obstinate about this. The little girl is making decisions! I don’t know why you were in the thicket to begin with, but I guess we’ll see if all this fuss is worth the trouble.”

I ventured a reply this time. “I … I wanted to …” I stammered again, gesturing awkwardly in the direction of the maiden.

“Don’t say it.” Her voice was strained when she spoke this. And I did not answer, for I had set myself towards the sky, and the lines were repeating again in my mind.

Maiden of the heavens, she proved herself true

And thus received what she fully deserved.

I looked at the girl, who was now heading back. Perhaps I should have followed her quietly, after the ordeal of her interrogation. But alas, I’m afraid her reprimands did nothing to smother my curiosity.

“What about you?” I asked. “Are you ready for later?”

The girl stopped. She turned around, deliberately; and, deliberately, she drew herself up — which really was unnecessary, as she was much taller than I. The haze glinted fervidly against her pale green hair, while she stared down at me with her large, piercing, pale green eyes, as her mouth curled in disdain. Oh yes, she was very pretty.

“Don’t be stupid,” she hissed in a low voice. Then she whirled around and marched towards the building behind her.

That building consisted of one level, leaning back and towards the ground. No lofty walls were there, no solemn halls, no auditoriums for lectures or debates. I could see panels of the slanted roof cracking, and the slats of the windows chipping off. As I advanced, I passed the lines the children drew on the ground for their games. I don’t doubt they would have preferred a well-furnished playground; but both in lessons and in play, we students very often had to pretend and imagine. No grand institution was this, and we learned quickly what that meant for us.

At the threshold, I turned back for one more look. “I am trying, maiden,” I confided in a whisper. “I will always try to be like you. But being not-friends with her is … not easy.”

For a while I stood waiting; for what, I am not sure. I knew I could not expect an answer.

I lowered my eyes. The familiar hints of an oncoming headache began throbbing behind my eyes. As I rubbed my brow, I glimpsed a dark figure disappearing behind the far end of the building.

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and looked again: but I saw nothing more at the wall.

By that time, no one else was outside. I knew the teacher would arrive soon, and I should be in the classroom before she did. So, of course, I walked quickly to the end of the building where the figure disappeared.

At the edge of the wall I stopped, drew in a quick breath, and stepped out to the corner.

I found nothing. And, as far as I could tell, nothing found me.

For an instant I actually considered going further, to search the back of the building. Then I smelled the fragrance of flowers. With a start I saw the blossoms I held, as well as the book underneath them.

I turned around and headed towards the classroom.

realize

#a preying sort of offering

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idk-im-dead-inside · 2 years

Text

Ugh.

So many mixed feelings. Finding myself so upset about something like this seems ridiculous to me and I never thought the day would come when I'd feel this way about something that WAS so important to me.

I am very disappointed in life in general but currently I believe that there is nothing that does not disappoint me.

The voice, music and lyrics that inspired me to keep going and accompanied me for a little more than half of my life, that voice that was so familiar to me and an emotionally safe place...One of my biggest influences on many aspects, has now become something corrupted and tarnished, unbearable, even; and now for very specific reasons, I now have a strong dislike towards it and a very deep resentment...

It leaves me very perplexed and even defensive and annoyed. This is beyond words to me.

On one hand I care.

On the other hand, I'm fed up and I don't want to know anything about things related to it anymore.

But hey, I guess I earned it. I suppose I sure as hell deserve it.

I single-handedly caused such an effect to become so disgustingly contaminated by sharing it with the wrong kind of person. Someone who has no fixed personality whatsoever and has to mimic whomever they surround themselves with, studying their every thought and move, and absorbing everything they can to fit in with whom they find convenient for themselves at a certain point. Even if they don't give a rat's ass about you, the person who at that moment gave them part of their new personality and new interests.

It's just so messed up, even if they say I'm the messed up one. Certainly something very manipulative from such individuals. Not surprising at all, to be honest.

That kind of shit happens when you open yourself up and share your heart and soul with others, especially people like that, and so they decide to tear them apart for their own enjoyment and selfishness.

I've become even more bitter than I used to be...For this reason, I will now be the selfish one, and it will be difficult for me to share my feelings, likings and interests with other people. It was something I hardly did, but now it will be pretty much impossible; because something so sacred to me should not be tainted, not even by the person that I had come to believe was most important to me.

Unfortunately it happened to me and it could happen to you too, so I urge you to be careful.

Though frankly I wouldn't wish this upon anyone.

I already knew this, but now more than ever, I must never trust anyone, not even my own shadow. I lived through a very difficult experience some two years ago, which ended up with me kind of mourning a situation that was not yet to be mourned over, I guess. Or maybe it was.

I don't know, but fortunately I'm already over that, although for some reason, part of why I mourned still bothers me quite a lot. I believe it's because "it" is still there.

"A peso, a dog, and a book are man's best friends."

I always knew that, but this definitely made me learn the lesson on a much deeper level.

Thanks for that good piece of advice, Papá O.

#just ranting #sad #disappoinment

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rasmussen69booker · 2 months

Text

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c-ptsdrecovery · 2 years

Note

Hey I have a c-ptsd question that I would like to ask about experiences, because like I know I need to try and get the professional help if I super suspect I have a good deal of the symptoms, but I’m perplexed by one OF the symptoms, if that makes sense? So I just wanted to ask around and see what people who actually do have the symptom say. Just to see if I’m grasping this info. Ya know?

Anyway, I have read a lot of the research stuff that says a symptom of c-ptsd is nightmares, but none of it ever says like what those are ever about? So I’m wondering if this includes just having more nightmares in general, or if the nightmares are reoccurring to something specific, like maybe a trigger, or something like that? I’m sure both can and will happen sometimes right? But what is more considered to be the actual symptom? Maybe that part can be both too? I just don’t know! Heh, sorry I talk a lot whoops..

No worries! So, this is one that IS confusing. Because a lot of professionals say that the nightmare have to be about the traumatic experience. But that's because the professionals are thinking about Simple PTSD, which is PTSD caused by basically just one really awful experience.

The problem is that the majority of cases of PTSD aren't just caused by one traumatic experience (even sometimes when it seems like it is!). You probably already know this, since you referenced c-ptsd, but the majority of cases of PTSD are Complex PTSD: they are caused by many, many traumatic experiences, frequently stretching far back into childhood.

The thing about C-PTSD is that it's so hard to point to just one awful thing and be like, "That's it! That's the One Trauma!" And the truth is that your unconscious mind, where the trauma is stored, ALSO cannot point to the One Trauma. So when you have the symptom of nightmares in a case of C-PTSD, you may sometimes have nightmares about a specific traumatic experience, or about a theme from your traumatic experiences (like, I have nightmares where people in authority aren't listening to me about important things, and I get really upset because that's one of my triggers). But sometimes.. it's just nightmares. No particular theme to them, just a surprising number of nightmares. Because with C-PTSD, the trauma so often stretches so far back in your memory that the trauma even inhabits the early parts of your childhood you can no longer recall. So your unconscious is just super stressed out and is just like, "Dangerous stuff is out to get me! NIGHTMARES!"

I just looked up how often most (non-traumatized) people have nightmares: Adults with nightmare disorders have a nightmare once a week or more (source). So we can take it as read that most adults have them less often than that. (Children and adolescents naturally have more nightmares than adults.)

I had a lot of nightmares (almost every night, in fact) while my C-PTSD symptoms were still really bad, but interestingly, they didn't upset me that much. They were rarely about my traumatic memories, or even about themes from my trauma. Generally they were just run-of-the-mill nightmares. Monsters, zombies, people being dicks, not having studied for a big test, getting in car accidents (I've never been in a traumatic car accident)... That kind of thing. The symptom evaluation questionnaire that my therapist uses requires that the nightmares be about the trauma in order to "count", but also she recognizes that this is incorrect, so sometimes we fudged the rules and counted ALL my nightmares when doing periodic symptom evaluations.

So here's the short version:

--If you don't have nightmares, you might still have PTSD.

--Some experts/therapists/psychiatrists will say that if you have PTSD-caused nightmares, they'll be nightmares of the traumatic experience.

--If you have Complex PTSD, it's very possible your nightmares might not be about specific trauma memories or even the usual themes of your trauma. You might just have a higher number of nightmares than the average person.

--Try not to get too hung up about any one symptom! Everybody's experience of PTSD is different. My big suggestion would be to seek out a therapist that is formally trained in treating C-PTSD. They'll evaluate your symptoms and take you seriously. I found my current therapist by calling my mental health insurance company, getting a list of therapy places in the area that took my insurance, and then calling them one-by-one and asking them if they had anybody trained in EMDR (one of the evidence-based treatment techniques for PTSD). Good luck, and let me know if you have any other questions!

#c-ptsd #ptsd #mental health #nightmares

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair.

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm.

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.”

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him.

Albedo’s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated.

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner.

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook.

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.”

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond.

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think.

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.”

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment.

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no.

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore.

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?”

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.”

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed.

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance.

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?”

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense.

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?”

In your head, this went down in such a different way.

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads?

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked.

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.”

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that.

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there.

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument.

Albedo appraises your silence coldly.

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result.

But it’s only yours.

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation.

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists.

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.”

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word.

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.”

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