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jessicafangirl · 6 months ago

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Building A Mystery Chapter 2

Mystery continues to spiral. But the return of a certain Professor comes with a surprise and the ramifications of choices made.

I was going to try and keep Emmrich away for a bit longer but...who am I kidding. I can't stay away from that beautiful bastard. Things get...interesting.

You can also read here on AO3

Please let me know what you think. It's my first Video Game Based Fic and boy do I love Emmrich.

Time is a funny thing.

At least to Mystery as she waited for her Necromancer to return. At times it felt like too much. The days stretching on while she tried to occupy her mind with other things. Teaching Manfred for instance who was coming along quite well with his magic. Emmrich would be proud of his protégé. Mystery would often think she was a poor substitute for him, but Manfred seemed happy to learn from her and to follow her lead. These lessons weren’t a burden of time, and they would actually help her forget somewhat.

It was the time between lessons that would drag, would allow the worry and the fear to creep in. Emmrich hadn’t written, hadn’t tried to contact anyone. At times she’d go down to the Eluvian and stare into the swirling reflection wondering if she could will it to show him to her or she could concentrate hard enough on his image in her mind to have it take her to wherever he had gone. But he had covered his tracks well. Not even the enigmatic figures who ferried them to and from the crossroads could tell her where he’d gone. Neve’s network of informants hadn’t even seen or heard from him.

Then there were the missions, always the missions. Protecting the realm and those within it. The Veilguard had their duty to follow. And in those instances, it felt as if there was never enough time. Mystery and her found family of heroes would return back to the Lighthouse, tired and worn, but successful in what felt like a never-ending string of threats to their world.

She’d catch herself in the early days thinking Emmrich would be there waiting for her like he used to be. He’d take her hand and lead her to his rooms where he’d already have a hot bath waiting for her, the water scented and filled with a mixture of fragrance and flowers that would help her muscles.

“A girl could get used to this.” She’d say as he helped her remove her armor and then her clothes.

“A girl should get used to this.” He’d reply, letting his fingers run along her throat, wiping away a stray bit of dirt.

Sometimes he’d find a small scrape, still bleeding on the pale skin of her jaw for instance. She’d not see how he’d purse his lips in anger, wondering just which one of her enemies had managed to hurt her, especially if he’d been on that particular mission. Foregoing the usual method of allowing the healing magic to flow from his fingertips, he’d press a kiss to the spot, healing her wound and allowing him the pleasure of his lips against her.

He'd help settle her in the bath and she’d sigh and feel as though she were melting and then he’d roll up his sleeves and just start washing her hair, cleaning her skin of the blood or dirt left from the battle.

She’d argued with him at first when he did this, telling him she didn’t need to be spoiled or pampered in a way that only one of the upper crust ladies of the land would expect. Mystery remembered the look in his face as she’d crossed her arms, standing in front of the steaming bath still in her clothes, sans armor.

He’d narrowed his perfect eyebrows, and his green eyes had darkened. “There’s no comparison my darling. Unlike the so-called noble lords and ladies of these lands, you deserve to be pampered and it’s my pleasure and mission to do so.” He’d taken a step closer, and his long fingers had grasped her chin, tilting her face up to his. A thin line of blood ran from a cut on her forehead. Emmrich’s eyes followed its path, a furrow between his brows. “None of them have 1/10th of your strength or your courage my darling. They do not know what sacrifice, love, or honor even mean.”

He lifted the fingers of his other hand and brushed them along the wound, a slight warmth radiating along her skin and it was healed, the blood gone. His thumb traced her lower lip while still holding her chin, making her blue eyes meet his. “Now please allow me to take care of you my Mystery as you deserve.” The necromancer’s voice grew deeper, and Rook had known there would be no refusing him.

But there were no sweet words, no warm baths waiting where sometimes she’d pull him into the sudsy water with her much to his chagrin but always ending in laughter and kisses and usually more. Mystery felt as each long day passed that Emmrich wasn’t going to come back…and it hurt beyond words. It hurt beyond her tolerance.

The team had worried about her and still did. She’d grown pale, pulling away from the group. She was still their leader, but she’d lost a spark about her. Rook would only take her meals in her room, not with the group, sometimes in Emmrich’s rooms with only Manfred for company. It went on like this for the first two months.

Then during missions she started growing not braver but reckless. Like there was no reason to remain safe, she’d take risks that she didn’t need to. After weeks of this with more close calls than he could stand, Lucanis finally had enough.

She’d been hurt but not as badly as it could have been and Lucanis was unrelenting in his verbal assault all the way through the Eluvian and into the Lighthouse. “That Venatori bastard nearly killed you, Rook! You knew better than to take the fight to him, it was too confined. If Assan hadn’t…”

Rook had turned on them, holding her injured arm. “But Assan did, didn’t he? So it doesn’t matter! We got the job done! We get to live to fight another day!” Her voice was raised but not screaming. In fact, Lucanis thought for a moment it was disappointment that colored her words. Regret that it had turned out okay and it was simply a sore arm that she’d left with.

Mystery saw it in his eyes then, could almost hear Spite’s hissing voice as the demon whispered “She wants to die…” as a warning to his assassin host. She couldn’t take the look he gave her, the way his dark eyes filled with sadness and worse yet, pity. Mystery turned and quickly headed to her room, foregoing any sort of healing from Bellara or Neve who watched her leave. Taash was the only one who didn’t seem surprised.

“She’s missing him.” They said, sitting down heavily on one of the large chairs near the fireplace and pulling from a pouch at their waist a sharpening stone.

Neve sighed. “We know that Taash.” The detective turned and pulled a bottle of Dalish brandy from a table and poured herself a crystal glass. She held the bottle up for any other takers, quickly pouring two more for Davrin and Lucanis.

“So why do you seem surprised?” Taash asked, moving the stone along the axe.

Neve took a healthy swallow. Davrin sat heavily on a chair. “Because she’s spiraling more than I think any of us realized she would.” He said, then took his own drink. “I don’t think Emmrich realized when he decided to go on this “personal quest” what it would do to her.”

Lucanis leaned against the long table, taking a pull from his glass. He let the liquid swirl in his mouth then swallowed. “If he was here, I’d punch him in the face.” He muttered and Spite nodded in agreement, grinning from where he hovered.

Neve sighed heavily and tossed back her glass in one go. “I have to give it to him; he’s covered his tracks well. Bellara was even trying to track him in The Fade and she’s not having any luck.”

Davrin gave her a raised brow. “He was THE Fade expert remember? It shouldn’t surprise anyone that he can hide himself from us using it.” He scratched Assan’s feathery head as the young griffin looked forlornly after where Rook had headed. She’d not been going on walks with them at all in the last few months. “I know boy…I know.”

The warden drank down the last of his brandy then stood up stiffly. Rook hadn’t been the only one who’d come away beat up. “Tomorrow we’re pulling her out of this pit she’s buried herself in. She’s going to get herself truly hurt or worse.”

Taash looked over at him. “How are you going to do that?” They asked with a raised brow.

“We’ll figure something out, but right now Rook needs our help and that’s what we’re going to do.” Davrin stood, Assan following him. “I’m going to get some sleep right now; I suggest you all do the same.” The duo of warden and griffin left to their quarters, Assan squawking a bit happier as if knowing his father figure had made the right decision.

The rest of the group decided he was probably right, knowing a fight of a different variety was in the cards the next day. And it was probably going to be an ugly one. Each of them headed to bed.

Mystery had gone to Emmrich’s rooms instead of her own, tossing her armor carelessly to the floor. Manfred was immediately there to help her. “Rook…hurrrt.” He rasped.

She shook her head, wincing as her arm twinged. The skeleton spirit quickly figured out what was wrong with her and raised his gloved hands above her arm. The familiar green glow of the magic that he shared with Emmrich radiated along her arm, down her wrist. Mystery sighed as the pain left and the sprains and a possible fracture mended.

“Thank you, Manfred.” Mystery’s voice was tired, worn out. She felt the weariness in her soul, and it sat there heavily alongside guilt for biting Lucanis’s head off in front of everyone. She knew they were worried about her. These were her friends, her family. But without Emmrich she didn’t feel whole anymore. Even if she was surrounded by magic the only magic that mattered was gone and she didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

Somewhere in her heart Mystery felt she’d know if he was…gone. The connection between them was so great she’d feel it and maybe in that moment she’d cease to be too. Maybe that’s why she had been growing bolder in her attacks during the fighting. Maybe Emmrich would sense her recklessness, her near misses and it would inspire him to come home to her. Or if he was dead, she could join him that much sooner. The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should be she supposed.

Mystery shook her head sitting down in the chair nearest the fireplace and pulling off her boots. She needed to face reality. Soul mates weren’t real, and he wasn’t coming back. All the pretty words on a piece of paper, all the ones said while holding one another…the promises made…it didn’t matter, did it? She’d lived in some dream that she’d woken from to a harshness that she wasn’t ready for. Maybe she was cursed to be abandoned, alone. Maybe she was atoning for some horrible deed she’d done in another life and this was part of an ongoing penance from the curse.

Manfred wandered over to where she sat staring into the fire and placed a perfectly milk and sugared cup of tea next to her along with some dainty almond cookies.

“Eat…” He hissed and then trundled over to the shelf to grab a book for his studying.

She closed her eyes as the tears threatened to spill again. What do I tell him? She wondered, not for the hundredth time. He’s not coming back Manfred. He left. And…he’s not coming back. Shaking her head, Mystery picked up the delicate cup and took a sip, sighing as the warm liquid coursed down her throat.

Mystery managed to eat two of the cookies before she gave up on anything else. She took off her dirt-streaked clothes and slipped into Emmrich’s bed in only her underthings. She didn’t have the strength to do much more or the desire.

His scent was fading from the blankets and the pillows now that it had been so long since he’d shared the space with her. It was as if he were a ghost and she’d just sometimes have a reminder appear, a whiff of cologne, a note written hastily and inserted in one of the books about something he’d been reading. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his clothes in the wardrobe. It would be too much, and she’d just crumble fully.

Mystery looked down at her left hand where the ring was still on her finger. Her thumb ran along the bottom, the runes etched into the band now familiar. She sighed heavily and pulled the plush blankets around her, creating a cocoon against the rest of the world before drifting off into an exhausted sleep.

It was hours later when the Eluvian inside the Lighthouse pulsed, the swirling glass thrumming with a magical light. The action would be strange to the heroes that slept above. It was as if a new magic was threading through the Fade, but at the same time very old and very powerful. It would have to be to utilize the Eluvian as it was now, secretly and ensuring that no safeguards or alerting of the Lighthouse’s residence would occur. Neve was a stickler for security of course so one could never be too careful.

After a moment the center of the travel mirror split apart, each side slipping to the side like the spectral curtains for a stage. Through them emerged a tall, thin, and familiar figure though changed from his last trip through the glass. After stepping through fully and moving two strides away the figure turned and watched as the Eluvian returned to its usual state with no sign of ever having opened.

Reflected back was the visage of one Emmrich Volkarin. He raised a brow behind the thinly wired and square, dark glasses that sat atop his aquiline nose. Emmrich ran a black gloved hand over the long coat he wore, making sure that any travel dust was removed. The coat had gold skulls for buttons with green jeweled eyes, a reminder of Manfred he’d not been able to resist adding. Almost invisible in the black velvety material were the outlines of emerald green stitching. It formed a pattern of Shroud’s Kiss flowers, almost like a secret only he knew was there unless someone took the time to search. Emmrich had a number of secrets now.

His long legs were also wearing black velvet trousers which ended in black leather boots. His waist coat was a pattern of light purple with black and gold accents, his cravat pinned with his favorite skull pendent. His grave gold was still in place only with a few more pieces added, very important pieces it had to be said.

Emmrich stared at the figure who he was still getting used to seeing like this. Those who knew him before his leaving would be shocked at how pale he appeared. His more salt than pepper hair now had more darker strands running through it as it swept away immaculately from his forehead. His mustache was still the same and perfectly groomed, but the paleness of his complexion made it stand out more.

But it was his eyes, hidden behind the opaque glasses, that were the most obviously different. The Necromancer removed the glasses, holding them gently in his hand as he took an unneeded breath, meeting the now garnet gaze looking back at him. He’d told her he hoped to be changed when he returned, and he was.

“I don’t want to scare her.” He whispered to himself, anxiety making the words strained. He slipped the glasses into the travel bag that was strapped across his chest. His staff’s green glow flared for a moment from its place across his back as he waved his hands once across his face. The glamor he’d perfected fell into place around him. There was the old Emmrich, back again, eyes green and flecked with gold and hair nearly all silver.

He’d felt the torment, the sadness that had been running through his darling Mystery from a distance. The ring he’d left her, a sign of devotion, of a vow he would not break had strengthened the connection they had with one another. It had been hell for him. Worse than the transformation he’d been through. Knowing he’d been the cause of her tears, her pain, the doubts that plagued her. His beloved was losing her light and herself because of him.

The ring was protection but also a window into her emotions and when Emmrich felt the hollowness, the sorrow it had nearly killed him. He had to fight with himself to keep from running back to her too soon. The danger would be too much. He had to know his spell craft had worked; he had to know his will was as strong as he knew it had to be. Denying himself seeing her again, being near her, he was sure it felt like the vivisection of Lichdom only while still living.

Another unnecessary breath, a habit he doubted would ever leave him. He licked his lips, his tongue now used to the newly sharper incisors of his teeth. He wanted to see her first before explaining to the rest of the team what he’d done and why. He needed to beg her forgiveness and show her what he’d done for the good of all, but especially his Rook.

Emmrich turned and walked through the empty, darkened stone path from the Eluvian’s room and into the Lighthouse proper, pulling the shadows around him just to be safe. It was a power that had come with the transformation and one he’d found useful, but especially now. Being back here felt strange after months away. Nothing had really changed here. He noticed a bottle of brandy sitting on the long table and three glasses carrying the scent of the alcohol. He wondered if Rook had partaken.

Without a noise he made his way up the stairs and took the familiar path to Mystery’s room. No sound came from within and due to the late hour, it stood to reason she’d be sleeping. Emmrich opened the door slowly, dazzled for a moment by the window sized aquarium that was her view.

It still fascinated him. He remembered many nights holding her on the settee, skin to skin wrapped in a blanket while they watched the seemingly endless parade of colors and species that swam by. “What piece of ocean do you think this is?” She’d asked him once, her cheek resting over his heart and her fingers running along his hip distracting him from rational thought.

His own fingers had been tracing rune shapes on the pale skin of her shoulder, one for passion another for devotion. Her soft voice had managed to break through though. “Hmmm…? Oh…” He’d looked up at the display before him. “It’s hard to say my love.”

Mystery had shifted, her chin now resting on his pectoral. Emmrich’s gaze found her sleepy blue eyes looking at him questioningly. “What do you mean?” She’d asked him and he could tell she was growing drowsy but was fighting the pull of sleep, something she did often when they were together.

“I don’t want to miss a moment of you.” She’d said once, her fingers brushing an unruly lock of mussed hair back from his brow…the ruined condition of his normally perfectly coiffed hair her doing. He would let her ruin him as often as she wished, sometimes begging her for the honor.

Unable to resist he lifted his fingers to her short blonde hair, finding the single braid that fell along her shoulder. He smiled as he ran his thumb over the softness. “I mean I’ve tried cataloging the number of species I can recognize from my blissful nights here with you and…” He pulled his gaze from hers and looked at the windows. “The mix is, to borrow a phrase, a mystery.” He turned back to her. “There are creatures here from all over our world, fish and amphibians that shouldn’t be in the same sea.”

An awed expression crossed her face and Emmrich had pulled her closer, enchanted by her surprise and happy to share some knowledge with her. “In fact my darling, there are some within those waters that are supposed to be extinct.” He’d said while tracing her jaw with his fingertips.

“That’s…amazing.” She’d said and turned to stare into the vast magical seascape.

Emmrich’s eyes stayed on her as he’d replied, “It certainly is.”

The memory caused a heat to race through him, even with the colder temperature of his body now. He didn’t need to breathe as he had before as his heart still beat, yet much, much slower. But it would always beat for her, and it would seem the thought of her in his arms and so close to that goal again could cause it to speed up.

His footsteps didn’t make a sound as he moved towards where Rook’s would-be bed sat. Emmrich steeled himself for seeing her for the first time in the flesh for months. He’d dreamed of her often of course. But as he turned his eyes to the settee there was no lovely form to be seen. Only the soft Tevinter woven blanket draped over it.

Emmrich’s brows narrowed…and then he realized where she would be.

He left her room quietly and headed to the other hallway where his own rooms lay. Before opening the door Emmrich readied himself for not only a reunion with his love but also seeing his, for want of a better term, child protegee again. He’d missed Manfred terribly.

Cautiously he opened the door, the book shelves and scents of leather, old paper and incense meeting his now sharper senses. Beneath it all he caught the scent of Mystery, lilac and cherries with an undercurrent of roses from the perfumed oil he’d made for her. And with it there was something that was simply her, sweet and warm.

It was his quick reflexes that managed to stop Manfred from screeching in glee upon seeing him. The skeleton emerged from a corner shelf and Emmrich quickly placed a finger to his lips, a gesture Manfred had learned years earlier meant silence. They did spend a lot of time in the library at the Necropolis.

Emmrich quickly moved to embrace the skeleton who hugged him back tightly, surprisingly tight actually. “Oh Manfred I am so happy to see you.” Emmrich whispered softly, a tear falling to his cheek. He pulled away still holding his protegee, looking into his large green gemstone eyes.

“Home!!!” The skeleton hissed quietly. “Home!!”

The Necromancer nodded, a smile on his lips. “Yes, yes I’m home.” He replied. “And you’ve been hard at work with your studies while I was gone?” He asked, voice low.

Manfred’s skull nodded emphatically. “Rook helped. She good teacher.”

Emmrich felt another tear threaten to fall at his words. Of course she would be, even in her distress she’d make sure to take care of “their magic slinging son.” He sighed, the weight of his decisions growing heavier. “There was never any doubt she would be a perfect teacher. Now Manfred, is she here?”

The skeleton nodded, pointing to the hidden door in the bookcase that led to the bedroom. “Rook sleeping. She was hurt.”

Emmrich stiffened, a look of horror coming over his face. “What?” he managed to gasp.

Manfred nodded again. “Hurt. I fix Rook arm.”

The Necromancer felt slightly less panicked. “Well done Manfred.” His need to see her doubled. “I need you to stay out here and return to your reading.” He patted the bony shoulder beneath the skeleton’s robes then headed towards the door.

Emmrich reached out with the practice of time and pulled the hidden lever without looking to slide the door open. Within the bedroom the fireplace was low, with only a few of the candles still lit here and there. On the walls the embedded lanterns burned with necromagic fire, emerald flames that wouldn’t stop burning until a spell told them to stop. They cast the room in a strange hazy and familiar green.

His eyes found her laying in his bed, blankets in disarray. He could tell from where he stood she was asleep. The fingers of his right hand flexed, the need to touch her overwhelming. His feet moved him swiftly to stand beside her and he froze.

The green and gold gaze of his glamor stared down at her and he felt the tears forming in earnest. He could see it here, the ramifications of his choice, of his leaving and it felt like a punch to his heart. Emmrich could feel it cracking, pieces breaking. “Oh my love…my darling.” He softly spoke to the air.

There were fresh scars peppering her arms, along her pale shoulders. Scars that hadn’t been there before he left for he knew the landscape of her body by heart and by touch. There were bruises that were healing still, yellows and fresh purple marks as well. One pale leg that had freed itself from the blanket revealed them along her calf. There was one long scar that ran along it starting just beneath her knee.

When they had fought side by side she was far more careful and of course he and the team had been there to assist her. Emmrich was always watching, always ensuring she was protected…except the last time when she’d nearly died.

But she had never been so damaged before. He’d never seen a patchwork of hurt and battle like this on her fair skin. The fact she’d not allowed healing magic to ease this…it spoke to something he couldn’t make himself contemplate. He’d go mad…

“Mystery…what did you do…” His voice was barely a whisper in the room. He couldn’t resist the impulse within him and pulled away the glove from his left hand. His fingers reached out and so very lightly he traced along the curve of her bare shoulder, his eyes closing at the warmth of her skin against his once more. Green flame sparked from his fingertips and where his touch swept over her the scars disappeared, the bruises healed.

Emmrich heard a soft sigh come from her lips and he pulled his fingers reluctantly away. “Emmrich…” her voice was rough honey to his ears, his name breathlessly spoken. “Why…did..you go…”

She was still dreaming of course, her eyes closed, heart rate slow and steady. But the question was like a knife to his soul. The sadness lacing the words pierced him deeply and he nearly fell to his knees next to her, ready to plea for her to forgive him, to tell him whatever task he could accomplish that would make it all right again, to confess just how deeply he loved her.

Instead, he bent one knee as though ready to propose and gazed at her lovely face. He saw here too, more bruises, a cut on her lip that looked fresh. He unconsciously focused on that for a moment and the glamor faded for a brief second. His garnet eyes flashing in the dark of the room. The scent of her blood was just there, and it beckoned him like a siren.

Emmrich swallowed back that particular hunger. He would not add to the hurts his love had endured while he was away. He would heal them. He would make amends and show her that this was a gift and that he loved her more than he had the right to.

“Oh beloved, I left to keep you safe, safer than I could as I was.” His fingertips swept along her temple, down her jaw, jade fire healing away the injuries and marks. “And I promise you that I will.”

In her sleep Mystery sighed, a small smile appearing as though hearing him. He didn’t want to wake her. But he so much wanted to hold her in his arms, to talk about all the things they needed to. But tonight she needed rest.

Emmrich couldn’t fight the desire though that drew him closer to her and her soft pink lips. Barely touching her he pressed his mouth to hers, a brush of a kiss and a small spark of green flame. She was so warm, even in that brief touch he felt dizzy, drunk on the feeling of her. He pulled away and stood quickly before being overwhelmed.

The tip of his tongue touched his lower lip where the smallest drop of her blood had attached itself. A sound like a purr, very nearly a growl formed in his throat at the taste. His Mystery’s sweet, sweet life, the thing he vowed to protect. Oh, it was divinity as much as he knew it would be. This one drop was all he would need to sense her presence even more, to find her anywhere in this world. The taste, the scent was imprinted on him now.

Emmrich realized this could get out of hand very quickly. The very thing he wanted to avoid, why he wanted to ensure he had all the safe guards in place. Her blood hadn’t been planned for. The Necromancer grounded himself. He slipped his glove back on, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, stealing himself against the desire that burned like an inferno within him.

Maker, it had been so long…and she was there in his bed with only her small clothes on. Warm, alive, his. She was still his…even now. Even after all he’d done, even after leaving her without warning. “Volkarin,” A voice in his head, his own voice spoke, “You will not do what you are thinking of. You owe her time and an explanation. You owe her much more than that. You will give it to her, and you will NOT become a creature of lust and appetite.”

Petulantly he thought the reply “But she likes it when I do that…” Mentally he slapped himself in the face for that stray thought. He straightened his back and gave her one last glance, the longing of his heart reflecting alongside the green fire in his eyes.

“I’ll return soon my love. Rest my dearest heart.” He whispered the words and then turned, leaving the bedroom.

He pulled the lever back, putting the door in place. Manfred looked up from his reading. “Rook ok?” He hissed.

Emmrich nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yes Manfred, she’s alright. You did well with her arm.” He was sure that Rook had denied Manfred’s assistance with her other injuries. The thought still saddened him, but he was determined to make this right and he would. Right then he needed to rest himself and prepare his elixir. He knew of another area in the Lighthouse he could use to sleep and then he’d let everyone know of his return…let the chips fall where they may.

“Manfred, don’t tell anyone you saw me alright? That includes Rook.” He said seriously.

The skeleton cocked his head, then nodded. “Surprise!”

Emmrich nodded in agreement. “Yes, a surprise. I’ll surprise them tomorrow.”

“OK!” Manfred hissed.

“I’m going to get some sleep in the upper-level Manfred. Remember, no one but you knows I’m here.” The Necromancer reminded his excited protegee.

Emmrich headed to the door of his rooms, glancing back once as he opened it to see Manfred going back to reading. His smile returned and he had a feeling that yes, things would be alright. He shut the door and turned to the hallway.

His back was slammed into the stone wall with a thud so quickly he didn’t have time react. The rock cutting into his skull though was a far better choice than the sword that was now pressed against his throat. Emmrich’s gaze met glowing purple eyes that were glaring into him, white teeth bared in threat.

“We don’t sleep when Lucanis does.” Spite growled. “Sensed you when you stepped inside.” He pulled him closer for a moment and the demons eyes searched his still glamoured ones. “You’ve changed Corpse Man.” The demon sniffed him, a snarl rippling from his mouth.

His purple wings unfurled and he pressed the sword closer to Emmrich’s throat drawing a bead of blood. “Like knows like.” The demon asked, its glowing eyes staring right through the glamor.

Emmrich knew he could see the real him, sensed it and with a thought, garnet met amethyst, glare to glare. The Necromancer growled at the demon, fangs on display as he let his recent nature take hold for a moment.

Spite seemingly grinned, not removing the sword but apparently was impressed. The demon barked a laugh in response and asked with a dark raised brow “What are you now?”

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #dragon age #emmrich the necromancer #davg #veilguard #The NECKromancer #Also will accept NecROMANCEr

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 4 months ago

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Intense heat threatens education in over half of Brazil’s cities

Studies show a decline in learning when temperatures exceed average levels, with the crisis worsening globally, including in Brazil

In 2024, Belém experienced extreme heat on 212 of its 366 days, with temperatures surpassing the average for more than half the year. This made it the second hottest city in Brazil, behind only Melgaço, also in Pará, according to data from the National Disaster Monitoring Center (CEMADEN), which used satellite imagery from the National Institute for Space Research (INPE). For João Victor da Costa da Silva, a 15-year-old student at the Professor Helder Fialho Dias School in Belém, the impact of the heat was undeniable.

“We couldn’t focus in class because of the heat. We were uncomfortable, sweating a lot, and often couldn’t concentrate,” recalls João Victor, who completed his elementary school studies at the end of 2024 in the district of São João do Outero, also known as Caratateua Island.

The data indicates that during periods of extreme heat in Belém, which will host the COP30 climate conference in November, the temperature was, on average, 5°C higher than usual. “The heat was unbearable, and some teachers had to stop teaching and take breaks. It definitely impacted my learning,” says João Victor, who added that despite having fans on and windows open, the classroom air quality was still poor, particularly on days when smoke from Amazon fires made breathing difficult.

João Victor’s experience reflects a broader issue affecting students across Brazil, particularly in the Amazon region. A study on Access to Green and Climate Resilience in Schools in Brazilian Capitals, conducted by the Alana Institute and the NGO Fiquem Sabendo, with consultancy from MapBiomas, found that 64% of schools in major Brazilian cities are located in areas where temperatures are at least 1°C higher than the average urban temperature.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #environmentalism #education #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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areadersquoteslibrary · 2 years ago

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When someone tells you in the general anti-intellectual scene of these end days of the world that college is a bad investment or indoctrinating kids etc etc, just agree with them and give them some version of this quote from Schopenhauer lamenting that college-level education was too focused on his personal nemesis Hegel instead of more worthy minds like Kant.

"Now if it is said that ‘Sound reason teaches this’, or that ‘Reason should rein in the passions’ and the like, then in no way does this mean that reason produces material knowledge from its own means; rather, this points to the results of rational reflection, to logical inferences from principles that abstract knowledge, enriched by experience, has gradually gained, and by virtue of which we can clearly and readily survey not merely that which is empirically necessary and hence to be foreseen, should the occasion arise, but the grounds and consequences of our own deeds as well. ‘Rational’ or ‘reasonable’ is everywhere synonymous with ‘consistent’ or ‘logical’, and the opposite is also true. For indeed, logic is just the natural method of reason itself expressed as a system of rules: these expressions (rational and logical) are related to one another as are practice and theory. A rational way of acting is understood in just this sense as a way of acting that is quite consistent, proceeds from universal concepts, and is intentionally led by abstract thoughts, but not determined by momentary, fleeting impressions; however, nothing is said about the morality of such a way of acting; on the contrary, it could be bad as well as good. Detailed explanations of this can be found in my ‘Critique of [117] Kantian Philosophy’ 2nd edn, p. 576 ff.,b as well as in The Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics, p. 152 ff.c Finally knowledge from pure reason (knowledge that we can bring to consciousness a priori, i.e., without the aid of experience) is such that its origins lie in the formal part of our cognitive faculty, be it thinking or intuiting. This sort of knowledge is always based on propositions that have transcendental or even metalogical truth.

In contrast, the idea of reason through its own means providing original material knowledge, knowledge therefore beyond all possibility of experience, positively enlightening us – the idea of reason as something that must contain innate ideas – is a pure fiction of philosophy professors, resulting from the anxiety evoked in them by the Critique of Pure Reason. – Are these gentlemen acquainted with a certain Locke, and have they read him? Perhaps once, a long time ago, superficially, in passages, in a poor, hackneyed German translation, looking down on the great man with conscious superiority – for I do not see an increase in knowledge of modern languages in proportion to the decrease in knowledge of ancient languages, no matter how much it is lamented. Of course they have had no time to waste on such old curmudgeons; in fact, even a real and fundamental knowledge of Kantian philosophy is at most to be found in some – very few – old fellows. For the youth of the generation now in manhood must have been expended on the works of that ‘giant intellect, Hegel’, of the ‘great Schleiermacher’ and the ‘discerning Herbart’. Alas! Alas! Alas! For this is just what is pernicious about such university celebrities and about what comes out of the mouths of decent colleagues in office and aspirants hoping to rise to the heroic heights of a university chair: that mere products of the factory of nature are praised as great minds, as the exceptions and ornaments of humankind, to good, faithful, youth of mediocre minds, lacking in judgement, so that these students dedicate themselves, with all their youthful energy, to the sterile study of such people's endless and mindless scribbling and squander the short and valuable time granted to their higher education, instead of devoting their youthful energy to real instruction, offered [118] by the works of rare, genuine thinkers, the true exceptions among humankind, ‘scattered swimmers in the vast abyss’,a who across the centuries have only now and then emerged, since even nature only occasionally produces their sort and then ‘breaks the mould’. These genuine thinkers would also have been alive for today's youth, had they not been cheated out of their share of these genuine thinkers by the exceeding perniciousness of those who praise the bad, those members of the great fellowship of sponsors of mediocre thinking, who always flourish and hoist their banners high as the regular enemies of the great and genuine, who humble them. Just because of these and their activities, the age has so declined that Kantian philosophy, which our fathers understood only after years of serious study and through great effort, has now become unknown to the current generation, before whom Kant's philosophy is like pearls before swinea and who try to attack it in a kind of crude, awkward, doltish way – as barbarians throw stones at statues of Greek gods unfamiliar to them. Because this is the way it is nowadays, it is incumbent upon me to recommend something new to the advocates of that reason that knows immediately – that comprehends, that intuits, in short, that reason that produces material knowledge from its own means – to recommend the first book of the world-famous, 150-year-old work of Locke, which is expressly directed against all innate knowledge, and especially to recommend the 3rd chapter, §§ 21–26.b For although Locke goes too far in his denial of all innate truths, insofar as he extends that denial to formal knowledge (for which Kant most brilliantly corrected him later), nonetheless he was perfectly and undeniably correct about all material knowledge, i.e., substantial knowledge."

-Arthur Schopenhauer, On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason

#philosophy #college #education #quotes #indoctrination #college indoctrination #trolling #copypasta #shitpost #right wing troll #philosophy of education #schopenhauer #hegel #educational indoctrination #college education #philosophy quotes #schopenhauer philosophy #philosophy trolling #amreading

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primusfortuna · 2 years ago

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Bezer Hangout Lines ⟡ Teach Me, Professor Bezer!

Bezer

Start Hangout “Leniency has no place in the process of righting wrongs. I once believed that, but... this break is necessary for my class.”

“It is an instructor’s duty to watch his students’ physical and mental well-beings. I encourage you to unwind and relax.”

“...Hmph. How absurd. Lately I’ve found your bright smile to be contagious.”

About Studying “Studying is essential to transform a beast into a man, and it greatly enriches one’s life. Is there something you’d like to learn?”

Choice: All kinds of things

“Oh? I’d expect nothing less of my model student. If only I could get those troublemakers to follow your example.” “Regardless of my expertise or my lectures, leading my students is what makes me a teacher.” “Your humble efforts to deepen your education are truly impressive. I’ll reward your hard work with a grade of 'very good'.”

Choice: Nothing comes to mind

“Hm... I see. You’re working to broaden your knowledge on a daily basis. It is entirely reasonable that nothing comes to mind.” “In that case, I will suggest a few areas fit for you. You can choose which one you like best.” “If you have the time, would you like to research the unknown with me? Working with my model student will teach me a great deal as well.”

About His Interests “Coffee, perhaps. The types of beans, grinding methods, brewing techniques... It is a profound subject that will take you down a rabbit hole of information.”

Choice: Should I make you a cup?

“...! That is a tempting offer... but I will decline. We must maintain strict boundaries as teacher and student.” “I am intrigued by the taste of your coffee... Miss Model Student, wouldn’t you consider this a breach of personal and professional affairs?” “...I realize it’s a poor decision to keep rejecting my students’ ideas. I’ll take up your offer when we’re out of class.”

Choice: What’s appealing about it?

“Coffee is excellent for relaxation. It also stimulates the brain. You won’t find a better beverage for studying than this.” “The best way to find its appeal is to try it yourself. I’ll find a promising coffee shop before our next break and we can go together.” “Just one sip and you’ll know... I realize that’s a groundless statement, but I’ll brew some for you next time. ...Keep this a secret from the other students.”

Initiate Physical Contact “You’re staring at me awfully hard... Do you have any questions or something you’re confused about? Don’t be shy to ask me anything.”

Touch His Hand “...This type of contact is not appropriate for a teacher and student to have. This is no reflection of a model student.”

Poke His Brow “Honestly... There’s a line even for model students. ...Although, that’s not to say I’m finding this unpleasant.”

End Hangout “You have a strong work ethic, Miss Model Student. Taking an enjoyable break will be beneficial to you in the long run. Please keep up the good work.”

“I’m not fond of keeping close company... However, bonding with my students isn’t so bad. If the opportunity arises, I’ll join you again.”

“...What? You need another break? I’m not one to play favorites, but... it is what it is. I’ll go out with you for just a little while.”

#ymkr tl #yumekuro translations #teach me professor bezer #bezer #hangouts

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locustheologicus · 2 months ago

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Catholic Theological Union and Pope Leo XIV

I mentioned before how exciting it is to know that our newest Pope is an alum of the theologate I went to in Chicago, Catholic Theological Union (CTU). Fr. Enzo raises the leadership style that already defined Cardinal Prevost in the ecclesial roles he had, as Bishop, as Religious Superior, and as the Cardinal in charge of reviewing Bishop appointments. Fr. Enzo was recently appointed as President of CTU just in time to have an alum elected Pope (talk about an amazing marketing opportunity).

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Below we have Fr. Enzo, who is a Passionist from Pittsburgh, being introduced as President of CTU. I went to CTU as I was discerning religious life and instead received a Masters in Pastoral Studies and entered a married life. Yet my experience at CTU from 1998 to 2002 was intensely profound and formative.

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Fr. Mark Francis, a former president of CTU and the current provincial for the Viatorians, had this to say about the fellow classmate he knew at CTU in his interview with Time magazine.

It is also obvious that Pope Leo will be following in the path pointed out to the Church by Pope Francis. The issue is simple. If the Church is to continue to effectively proclaim the Gospel, it must be in a position to listen to everyone—especially those on the margins. The way the Church teaches also needs to be more in action than through mere words. Outreach to those who have traditionally not had a strong voice—to the poor, to women, to the vast part of the Church that no longer belongs to Europe or North America, will also be a focused concern for Pope Leo. Dealing with sensitive issues such as LGBTQ persons as well as weighing in on politically charged questions such as the unjust invasion of Ukraine and the plight of Israel and the Palestinians will undoubtedly be a concern on which he will focus.

US Catholic, a Claretian magazine based in Chicago, interviewed other CTU faculty on the significance of this election and further explored what that means for both our new Pope and for CTU. This includes my dissertation reader Dr. Carmen Nanko-Fernandez.

Carmen M. Nanko-Fernández is professor of Hispanic theology and ministry and director of the Hispanic Theology and Ministry Program at CTU. She said she is “stunned to be teaching on the faculty of the first U.S. theological school to educate a pope in theology and ministry.” Some of her colleagues were his professors, and others were his classmates. “Honestly, it’s mind blowing,” said Nanko-Fernández. “How our little corner of the world got thrust into the middle of a world event.”

Later on in the article it continues to share Dr. Carmen’s thoughts on the way CTU influenced our new Holy Father.

Pope Leo, like Pope Francis, appears to be committed to the spirit and reforms of the Second Vatican Council. In this, too, he reflects the values of CTU. “CTU was born out of the spirit of Vatican II,” Nanko-Fernández said, “and that has infused its mission for almost 60 years. …That academic and pastoral formation en conjunto, in an urban setting and in a context that encouraged interreligious and ecumenical relations, undoubtedly helped nurture Pope Leo XIV’s vision and practice,” said Nanko-Fernández.

In another video interview Dr. Carmen shares some further insight on how a CTU formation does play a role with our new Pope’s theology, social ethic, and cultural integration.

In many of these interviews we can see that the journalists are looking to assess the potential politics of our new pontiff based on his CTU experience but what our faculty keeps coming back to is the centrality to the gospel message itself. That has been my own formation experience with CTU as well. I became aware of the lived gospel experience both at CTU where I received my masters and at Fordham where I received my doctorate in ministry (which I began at CTU under Dr. Carmen). The lived gospel suggest that the social message of the gospel, the countercultural message that Christ witnesses to the world, is meant to be lived out today. CTU formed us as disciples with the same merciful and prophetic conviction that Christ witnessed too. So it this message, the living gospel, that guides our own political and social perspective. Through this lens we respond to the communities in need, we welcome and embrace those who are on the margins of society, and we prophetically witness against a society that dares to harm or isolate “the least of these.”

It’s been awhile since I made my way to Chicago and CTU. I have nothing but great memories of my time there. The context and setting that Dr. Carmen mentions very much influenced my own life and sense of Christian discipleship and I am deeply grateful for this. Perhaps I should make my way back there one of these days.

Incidentally, here I am with my dissertation reader Dr. Carmen in front of the old CTU building some time in 2018 I believe.

#Instagram #Youtube #Catholic theological union #pope leo xiv

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summerfyre · 2 months ago

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Zen Catholicism :)

[…]

A number of years ago, I went to West Germany to do research on Meister Eckhart, a German mystic of the Middle Ages. While there I was invited by the Catholic theologian, Professor J. Ratzinger (now a cardinal), to lecture on ‘Zen and Christianity’ to a group of his doctoral students. In that talk, I explained Zen by contrasting it with the thought of Thomas Aquinas and, in spite of my poor German, professor and students alike listened with great interest. The seminar at which I spoke was held annually at the end of the school term. We all stayed together at a hotel overnight, spending many hours in discussion. Towards the end of the seminar, Professor Ratzinger said, ‘How interesting it would be if we could compare the ideas of Zen with those of the Bible. If that could be done, it would be a great event, not only for the dialogue between Zen and Christianity, but also in respect to the ideological exchange between East and West.’ This comment struck me deeply although then I had not the slightest idea of how Christian Scripture and Zen thought might resemble each other. Later, it completely left my mind and I did not think about it for a long time.

Zen koans are mondo (literally, questions and answers), a particular type of dialogue found in Rinzai Zen. A part of the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, they can be called ingenious Zen devices created by the practical wisdom peculiar to the Chinese. The New Testament of the Bible is the sacred scripture of Christianity. Written nearly 2,000 years ago, it is the message of salvation that Jesus Christ brought to the Jewish people. The formative processes and ideological backgrounds of the two differ: Buddhism holds that all creation is endowed with the Buddha-nature;

Christianity believes in the Three Persons in One God, as revealed by Christ, and teaches that everything in heaven and on earth has been created by this God. The one’s view of history is cyclical whereas the other has a lineal view of salvation history. They differ in many other points as well. In fact, Zen koans and Christian Scripture are so utterly different that there does not seem to be the remotest possibility of finding fundamental similarities between them. I thought this for a long time and my ideas did not change even after I started to practise Zen some years ago. After returning from Germany, however, I began sincerely to devote myself to the Zen practice that I had begun previously. As I acquired a certain amount of experience in Zen, I became aware of a strange thing: I discovered that even though they differ greatly in externals, in their essentials there is a surprising resemblance between koans and Scripture.

This experience first occurred in such an unobtrusive way that I did not clearly realize it myself. When I started to do zazen (sitting meditation), I found, to begin with, that I was able to read Scripture more tranquilly and appreciate its profound meaning more readily. In the beginning I did not know why doing zazen helped me to understand the meaning of the Bible. As the experience repeated itself, however, I began to reflect on it and deduced a psychological explanation: when the mind becomes tranquil through doing zazen, the spiritual meaning of Scripture is able to penetrate to the depths of the heart. Undoubtedly doing zazen has this kind of psychological effect on the reading of Scripture, but the real reason remained concealed from me. At the time, I still did not dream that there was an internal resemblance between koans and the Bible. Later, as I participated in Zen retreats (called sesshin) over a period of time, I found, to my surprise, that when I returned home I could appreciate Scripture better and realize the meaning of passages which up to then had been completely incomprehensible to me, as if scales had fallen from my eyes. As this experience was repeated time and again, I began to see that koans and the Bible have something in common.

[...] --Kakichi Kawodaki en "Zen and the Bible"

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renee00124 · 2 months ago

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The American philosopher and professor Noam Chomsky, at the age of 95, loses his ability to speak and write, thus being forced to relinquish the throne of words—the very tool through which he exposed the truth about global systems.

Throughout his life, he left behind powerful reflections, including:

“There are no poor countries, only failed systems of resource management.”

“No one will place the truth in your mind; it is something you must discover for yourself.”

“If you want to control a people, create an imaginary enemy that appears more dangerous than you, then present yourself as their savior.”

“One of the clearest lessons of history: rights are not granted; they are taken by force.”

“There is a purpose behind distorting history to make it seem like only great men achieve significant things. It teaches people to believe they are powerless and must wait for a great man to act.”

“The world is a mysterious and confusing place. If you are not willing to be confused, you become a mere replica of someone else’s mind.”

“To control people, make them believe they are responsible for their own misery and present yourself as their savior.”

“The West will one day regret its shallow ideas that alienate people from their true nature. One must seek the right religion and the right belief.”

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news365timesindia · 4 months ago

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[ad_1] GG News Bureau Bhubaneswar, 18th Feb. The Kalinga Institute of Industrial Technology (KIIT) is facing growing unrest after a Nepali student died by suicide in her hostel room, triggering protests on campus. The situation intensified further when KIIT was accused of evicting Nepali students, followed by a viral video showing staff members making controversial remarks. In the video, a professor, Manjusha Pandey, was heard saying, “We are feeding and teaching over 40,000 students for free.” Another staff member, Jayanti Nath, added, “That is equivalent to your country’s budget.” The remarks sparked massive outrage, forcing both to issue public apologies. Pandey clarified that her comments were made “in the spur of the moment” and did not reflect KIIT’s stance. Nath also expressed regret, stating that her words were a response to alleged remarks calling India and KIIT “corrupt and poor.” KIIT later removed two officials from service and reaffirmed its commitment to student welfare. Meanwhile, protests continued after two security guards were arrested for allegedly using force against students. The incident has also drawn diplomatic attention, with Nepal PM KP Sharma Oli stating that his government is addressing the matter through diplomatic channels. The Indian Embassy in Nepal assured a thorough investigation. In Odisha, the political fallout has intensified, with the Congress demanding a judicial probe and the arrest of KIIT founder Achyuta Samanta, while the ruling BJD blamed the BJP-led state government for deteriorating law and order. The Odisha government has now set up a three-member fact-finding team, led by the Additional Chief Secretary (Home), to investigate the incident. The post KIIT Row Escalates After Nepali Student’s Suicide, Staff Apologize for Controversial Remarks appeared first on Global Governance News- Asia's First Bilingual News portal for Global News and Updates. [ad_2] Source link

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news365times · 4 months ago

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redlightsw · 4 years ago

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i don’t like professor yang...

#jtbc law school #he reminds me of a past teacher i had who did the most ridiculous shit for the sake of wanting to be known as hard #like if a large percentage of your class is failing #its a reflection of the professor's poor teaching...#i hate the narrative that its the students fault #also that it frames the professor as some sort of charismatic person. like no you suck

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ratherbefangirling · 3 years ago

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Blue Side

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Idol AU, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship. Sprinkles of Angst.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Summary: Sometimes being JHope is hard. So he chooses to become your boyfriend and reflects on your relationship so far.

Hoseok was Tired. Exhausted. Stuck.

As satisfying tours were they left him feeling empty at times. The sadness was probably because all his endorphins were exhausted. He loved his job there was nothing to say about that really. The dancing, the music, his members, army everything he couldn't imagine a life that wasn't this.

Still he needed to feel grounded. He couldn't go to his family because they worried too much as he tossed out all the stress he'd accumulated in his down time and the members were in the same boat as him and it didn't feel right to focus about these transient feelings when there were things that needed to be done, issues that needed to be solved.

Maybe that's why he had found you and then kept you, despite the danger of a scandal that loomed over like a dark cloud.

Meeting you had been pure luck. Due to the odd timings of his job he opted for distant learning. You were in the same course as him. All his classmates and teachers had to sign an NDA. He had missed a lot of classwork and had asked the professor for help. The professor had led him to you.

Why did you help me, y/nie.

Because and don't laugh at me.. I thought you were Cute.

Oh our precious y/nie.

Oppa!!

Teaching him he admits was no easy task. He was a good dancer, rapper and singer. Sometimes referred to as the golden hyung in his team but studying was never his cup of tea. Still you worked hard to explain to him, to send him your personal notes, even agreeing to teach him in person before a big quiz.

Hoseok couldn't control his nerves. His manager was waiting outside the cafe for your arrival. The sound of the door opening alerted him to your arrival. He liked your neat and pretty style. You were dressed casually except for your earrings which complemented your outfit but stood out.

"Good morning Hoseok ssi." You say and he is enamoured by your voice.

"Y/n ssi thank you for agreeing to teach me."

"Don't worry about it it gave me a chance to get out of my house and haven't you heard of the saying one learns by teaching."

The next few hours were spent going through the text material. Both of you had some cafe specials. You even insisted on paying for your food but he said it was only fair he paid since you were here on his request to which you ultimately agreed.

You smiled at him brightly. And that was the first strike.

His logical brain bolted out.

Soon those meetings increased though inconsistencies and sporadic until the course was coming over and he didn't want it to be the last time you both met.

Can I.. I mean to say... if its alright with you let's hang out huh. See each other if we're free.

Later He'd confess to Jimin and Jimin would roll over the floor laughing.

"Hyung that's now how to you talk to a girl.. let alone one you like."

"I'm not. I don't know ok. The only girl I've really talked to is Noona and our Staff."

"Poor hyung." Jimin says still clutching his stomach.

Hoseok enters your house with the spare key you've given him. Putting it in the keybowl near the entrance over the shoe rack from which he takes out his slippers. It's a small one bedroom apartment. The balcony door is left open. He rushes to close it. You had a habit of opening the doors to your balcony.

To let the natural air come in. You claimed.

There is a new knitted woolen blanket on the sofa. He wonders if you bought it or made it. You had told him you wanted to make something. Last time he went to tour you'd embroidered two cusion covers. Your hobbies were vast and ever changing. It reminded him of Jungkook.

He goes to the kitchen. The unwashed pile is huge and the trash is left overflowing from the bin. He sighs. Often times you'd neglect doing the work and he had to remind you of it. Sometimes your phone calls consisted of you cleaning the house while he worked or talked about his work. The first few times He'd been offended that you'd do housework as he talked to you.

You'd explained later post argument that you felt grounded by his presence. That staring at computer screens all day hurt your eyes so it literally caused tears to look at the screen continuously. Doing the chores allowed you to look away for long enough that it wouldn't end up hurting your eyes.

Your bedroom is both better and worse. Your bed is unmade. The members had made him immune to this. Your closet was clean and sorted but your laundry chair was filled to the brim. There were sticky notes everywhere on the walls but more obvious was the latest wall painting you'd done just after you both confessed your feelings.

Love is Hope.

You had put strings on top of the writing and stuck the pictures he'd taken of you from his polaroid camera. There were pictures of food you ate together. His hands in yours. The pic of your shoes when you'd matched. Some silhoute pictures. On top of which was your hope world poster he'd signed for you. It was his favourite wall in the house.

Today though he didn't look much at it and simply dived into your bed and got under the covers. He didn't need you to be there to be comforted. The proof of your existence alone was enough.

You spotted Hoseok's shoes as you entered the house. The lights were off which meant he was sleeping. You turned on the mood lighting that had actually been a gift from your boyfriend. After changing clothes you decided to tackle the dishes which were piling up. You also defrosted the chicken you planned to cook today.

You were seasoning the chicken when Hobi came out of the bed and wrapped his arm around you.

"Hello Cutie." He said.

"Hi boyfie." You replied not looking up yet.

The room was cooler than the bed and goosebumps arose on his skin. He stuck closer to you to steal your body heat.

"Let me put this in the oven then I will come out. Do you want something to drink." You say.

"I will take it myself. Come soon." He says and opens the fridge. The jar of fresh orange juice is filled. You probably freshly squeezed it for him because you know how he avoids packaged juices because of his diet.

When he's more awake he will make a salad to accompany the meat for dinner he thinks. You busy yourself in grinding ingredients to make a good gravy to accompany the roast. You take out the pan add a little oil and add the ingredients, cook it a little before adding water and letting it simmer.

"Remind me to check it in 20 minutes." You tell Hobi and he nods and puts a timer on his phone. He had been looking for a movie to watch and now you takeover the job as he looks through his messages. There aren't many just some of the members sending jokes and things. Couple messages from their music director and a message from his mother asking how he was doing. He replies to his mother's message and then concentrates on being there in the now.

"There's literally no movie which looks like fun." You whine. Hoseok continues scrolling wordlessly "We could watch an English one." You joke.

You had learned English because of your job in the embassy. Joking that if you got tired enough of the long distance you would accompany him on tour as their official translator. Or if you got caught by the fans they could fight rumors by saying you were just his tutor. You had pulled out an incredibly cheesy 'Come be my teacher' at him and laughed so hard. He didn't think you were funny and he let you know. You just asked him to cheer up and thankfully didn't make that joke again.

Strike two

But never in a million life times would he admit that he found it cute.

Sometimes when he thought about it he admired your courage in dating him with all the risks and limitations. What he appreciated the most was you treated him as him you never underplayed his job but you did not focus on it either. He has met a lot of people who cannot focus past the JHope and that is a terrible spot in any of his personal relationships.

Hoseok stretches to move his stiff muscles.

"Do you need me to take out the massager." You ask as your hand finds a way to massage his stiff shoulders.

"My body is stretched. Nothing new it needs time to go to its normal state."

"Alright." The timer rings." My time has come." You say and go back to see your gravy.

Hoseok joins you and makes salad and toasts a couple of bread slices you like to have with the roast.

"Taste test." You say bringing a spoon towards him.

He opens his mouth and sips, humming thoughtfully. "It's good."

You also take out a small piece of chicken and try shredding it. Dipping it in the gravy you taste it. It needs a bit more time.

"You want French fries." You ask.

"Yes." He says after some thought.

"Finally I get to try an airfryer." You tell him. " I hope it's good."

You read the instruction manual once more as Hoseok takes out fries from your freezer.

The majority of the cooking behind you, you both wind down on the sofa. One of your playlists playing in the background.

Jimin calls him, he's the only member who knows about you for now other than Namjoon who knew he had a girlfriend but nothing more than that.

"Hello Hobi Hyung, hello Y/n-ssi " he greets as he sees you in Hoseok's background.

"Hello Jimin-ssi all good?" You ask.

"Yes yes... how are you enjoying your day off hyung?"

"Nothing much I slept earlier and now I'm going to have the roasted chicken y/n is cooking."

"Lucky you. I just started another diet so nothing but salad for dinner." Jimin informs.

"Is it that or are you too lazy to wash dishes."

"Ahh hyuung." Jimin whines cutely. "Atleast don't ruin my reputation in front of Y/n."

There's movement in Jimin's background which alerts Hoseok.

"Who is it?" Hobi asks.

"It's ggukie." Jimin replies then proceeds to talk with Jungkook. "Ok hyung I will talk to you later." He says before hanging up.

He looks up and you've finished laying the table but you lie collapsed on the sofa.

"Come let's eat. Also wash up before you eat because you won't shower after eating." Hobi says.

"Oppa at least you could be nice when you come visit me after months of not seeing each other."

Hobi sobers immediately.

"I..am ... I didn't mean it that way."

"It's fine. I will take a quick shower then." You say and march towards the bathroom.

Hoseok plugs the hairdryer. So that he could help you dry your hair. Hopefully he won't tangle them like he did last time.

You are out in half an hour. Drying your hair with a towel. You smile as you see Hoseok ready with the hairdryer.

"No need to do it Hobi Oppa. You're tired too."

"Never tired for my girlfriend." he says.

And you giggle. Your heart flutters every time he calls you his girlfriend.

You sit infront of the mirror and look at him as he dries your hair carefully. His face in fierce concentration makes you want to coddle him.

Once he's done you both sit together to eat.

Before there is a bite in his mouth his phone rings again and you frown. You don't like it when he's being interrupted while eating.

The only reason Hoseok picks up is because it's Namjoons call and it usually means business

"Hoba? Yes So there's a new choreographer and I'm struggling with the changes in choreography and I hate to bother you on your day off but I think we need to call a group meeting on this."

"Fine we'll do that but I'm busy right now let's talk later."

"Are you at home?"

"No I'm not at my parents house."

"So at you're girlfriend's which I'm not supposed to know about."

".... yes."

"Must be cool. She must be happy you're back from tour. I think I need some tips. How does she manage a secret long distance relationship with a workaholic. Anyhow I won't take more of your time. See you whenever. Goodnight."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

Namjoons words ring in his head as he watches you eat infront of him. You're pretty , he thinks. You have a decent job. You're kind and funny. You could easily be dating a decent guy who didn't hide you from the world, instead you ended with him.

It was a tough conversation to have knowing he was the one who pursued you . He had discussed with you or rather told you that it was going to be a secret and if it got out then he'd choose his career over you.

Now that he thinks about it. How cruel had he been. Logically it was right. Practically that would be for the best for both of you.

He wasn't a romantic person by nature. Nor a thrill seeking one. Out of his members he was the least likely to be in the situation he'd ended up being in.

You came in his life and broke down all of his rules.

"Oppa, what is it? Do you have to go. Do you have time to eat. Should I pack it for you." You ask.

His heart bursts with affection for you. He gets up from the chair, leans over and kisses your forehead and pats your head.

"No. Its not that."

"What happened?"

"I just.. I'm thinking about how lucky I'm to have you."

In response you shy away from his gaze.

"How.. how do you do it? .. date me I mean."

"Oh it's not that tough. When I'm alone I pretend you're my imaginary boyfriend who come to life if I pray hard enough. The gifts help though." You say.

He's shocked by the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Ofcourse I'm going to have to spoil my princess so that she doesn't forget about her very real boyfriend." He says cutely.

You giggle.

Strike three. He's really really in love with you.

And here with you he feels all his blue fading away.

I think I'm slightly emotionally attached to this because every time I come to edit it / read it I feel soft.

Authors Note 📝

To be noted this was written before festa 22 but its kinds of cool I had the idea to write a blue side inspired fic bc of hobi vlive I which (he had blond hair) admitted about having through a tough time. Hope you enjoy this 💙💜

I was going to release it on hobi's birthday but the 'more' release seems appropriate.

Being Domestic together is like part of my love language.

Anyhow Boyfriend Hobi. *sighs*

Taglist : @mwitsmejk

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wedreamedlove · 4 years ago

Text

Mo Yi in Love - Character Study

I just read Mo Yi's [SSR Brewing Thoughts] card and, not only am I an emotional mess, but I also hit an epiphany regarding understanding his character and now I have to write about this. I know I'm going to repeat this at the end, but understand that Mo Yi is just a man who wants his first love to be his last love and who has relatable fears over failure, haha.

SPOILERS go up to chapter 3 of Mo Yi's personal route, [SSR Brewing Thoughts], [SR Fake Tears], [SSR Dangerous Invitation], and reveal Mo Yi's family background. In addition, while the lines are in order, I chose to remove some descriptions to keep things shorter.

First, I want to talk about Mo Yi's view towards love.

It's really positive, which is ironic given his background and what he grew up around. However, he's always been a rational person and the object or feeling itself has no crime, it's what people choose to do with it that matters.

[Personal Route Ch.1]

MY: True love brings light and hope to life and makes a person better and better.

MY: At any time, you could meet with that person who would make you a better person, but you may not be aware of it at the time.

[Personal Route Ch.3]

MY: Alright, quiet... What everyone here has said is all "love".

MY: Love itself is a concept that cannot be clearly defined because, for every person, their feelings and preferences are different.

MY: So, this student here, I apologize sincerely but I may not be able to give you an accurate answer.

Student: Professor, what do you feel is love then?

MY: Me...?

Mo Yi faintly smiled.

His eyes passed through the sea of people and met mine.

MY: To me, it is a unique miracle.

MY: She makes me unable to control wanting to investigate, to touch, and to figure out everything.

MY: There are even times where, for a short moment, I am unable to distinguish the divide between reason and emotion.

MY: In this world, there are too many people who are fair on the outside but foul on the inside, however there will always be that one person...

MY: She will make you become better, make you believe everything is wonderful, make you start to look forward... to the future.

Look, he's an utter romantic! But, like I mentioned above, he's also a rational person and he needs to make sure that this love is The One for him.

Second, what's important to mention here is his view on Love At First Sight because that's what he admits to himself that he has for his heroine.

However, he has a huge scar about Love At First Sight because of the tragedy that was his parents. His father, a nobleman, and his mother, a foreign woman from a background of scholars, fell in love with each other at first sight. However, due to his father's poor handling of the church in his country, which basically denied their relationship unless Mo Yi's mother converted to their religion, Mo Yi's mother left his father and his father lost the love of his life and has been regretting it to this day.

So, what does he think about Love At First Sight?

[Personal Route Ch.2]

MY: ...Personally, I believe in "love at first sight".

Student: Really? I thought someone rational and calm like you wouldn't believe in this sort of illusion.

MY: "Love at first sight" has uncertain factors, but that doesn't mean its existence itself is a mistake.

MY: Furthermore, isn't it human nature to harbor hope for this wonderful and sincere emotion? I am no exception.

MY: Only...

Mo Yi paused slightly and, when he opened his mouth again, there seemed to be some unclear emotion in his tone.

MY: When "love at first sight" arrives, I am more inclined to make a particular judgment first rather than walk eagerly towards love.

MY: Those wonderful things that are unforgettable for people, are they for real or are they "ephemeral"? This is more important, is it not?

Student: Oh, can this sort of thing be tested? Professor, can you teach me?

MY: It's not a peculiar method, you just need to make observations.

Student: Observations?

MY: Correct, observe the other party's attitude and thoughts when facing matters, especially the things that really threaten their lives or safety.

MY: To a certain extent, a person's behavior can reflect their personality.

As a top psychiatrist, Mo Yi is extremely honest to himself with his own emotions and thoughts. Heck, that's why he always records voiced diary logs because he uses those to examine his own mental state. So, this determination on whether or not the target of his Love At First Sight is The One means a lot to him, because he will throw himself fully into this love.

One huge thing about Mo Yi is that he chases perfection and has an aversion to imperfect things. This stems from his deathly fear of failure because he doesn't believe there is a "next time" after failure. Once something fails, that's the end. This is due to his parents again and how, while it takes time to nurture emotions, it only takes an instant to lose emotions or trust.

Third, because of the above, it is incredibly important for Mo Yi minimize as much "risks" as possible.

The translations below are going to be paired together for consistency, but they will be addressing two points at the same time. One, that Mo Yi may exaggerate the emotions he reveals, but they are genuine. Two, that he is showing his "imperfect" and "ugly" sides to his heroine in controlled settings because he doesn't want her to hate him.

(On a minor note, I think it should be kept in mind that he's also observing her through all of this to determine whether or not she's The One, but honestly she just keeps surprising him throughout the game and making him fall harder and harder for her).

[SR Fake Tears]

In those gold eyes of his, the usual gentle smile was replaced by another emotion.

MC: Dr. M-Mo...?

That expression... was not sadness and was not relief, but...

A kind of inevitable self-confidence, the satisfaction of seeing through everything, or... an unfathomable control.

That glance... was it my misconception?

In the flickering light, that expression was gone in a flash. I was incapable of determining it, but instinctively a hint of a chill rose from the bottom of my heart...

MY: Did I scare you?

MY: I just... don't want to hide myself in front of you. I just want to be honest about my weakness in front of you alone.

MY: You won't hate me, right?

Before I could answer, he smiled softly.

MY: Let me indulge myself this once, alright?

MY: Just for this short while...

[SR Fake Tears]

Mo Yi sat at his desk and turned on his digital voice recorder.

The time on the recorder slowly moved forward, but Mo Yi only watched that changing number without saying a word.

After a long time, a soft sigh came from the quiet room.

MY: I shouldn't have done that...

MY: Just for a moment of warmth, I deliberately showed her that appearance, even exaggerating my sadness and weakness...

MY: I even fully enjoyed indulging myself... I sought even more from her, hoping she would... feel even more sorry for me.

MY: But, at that time, I really didn't want to use reason to control my emotions.

MY: This is the first time I've been so... contradictory, chaotic...

His voice became lighter and lighter.

MY: The yearning I have for her... is already... an addiction I cannot give up...

[SSR Brewing Thoughts]

MY: Saying you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight was only an excuse, wasn't it? You were afraid I would have a sleepless night because I would think about past matters.

MC: Dr. Mo, you—

MY: I'm really happy.

MY: I won't be sad because of those things, but I truly am really happy.

His fingertips gently caressed my wrist.

MY: A child who has tasted candy would have a hard time enduring the loss. Can I be insatiable and rely on you more?

MY: Or is it that people who are too strong, who don't feel sad, have no way of receiving concern?

MY: Are you... going to leave and ignore me?

There was a hint of pretend grievance in his voice, and also a deep belief and certainty that I couldn't refuse him.

MC: (Too unfair! There's no way to refuse...)

Before I could answer, Mo Yi held my wrist and pulled me even closer to him.

MY: Just stay here, right with me.

Some context here is that he was acting "drunk" in the translation above. Below was the reveal that he wasn't actually drunk.

[SSR Brewing Thoughts]

The bud of feelings needed to be raised with the utmost care, but how could he let it grow strong in an unpredictable environment?

Of course he had to control it himself rather than allowing it to happen naturally.

Just like adjusting the sun and rain when a grapevine was growing, and just like controlling every timing of winemaking.

Furthermore, if someone wanted a grape seedling, which was imperfect to begin with, to produce the desired fruit, to brew the perfect wine, then it needed even more precise control.

Otherwise... just like wine, a small error might lead to serious consequences.

As you can see, the god complex and obsession over control is strong here. He cannot and does not believe to leaving things to random nature. He's not willing to lose this love and will do anything to give him and his heroine a happy ending (unlike his parents).

That's not to say that he HAS to control everything though. He actually doesn't care about the process (nature vs. nurture) so long as the results are good. But, like I mentioned above, he is certainly a master of reducing "risks".

However, and this was the whole point of [SSR Brewing Thoughts], Mo Yi's heroine teaches him that there is a "next time" after failure. She teaches him that, sometimes, the journey along the way is more important than the conclusion and that what's most important is whether or not the person he loves is beside him.

What is extremely touching is how matter-of-factly she tells him that they can just try again if they fail at something. He does not need to chase perfection when he is around her and a lot of his dates are seeing him in various states of failure. Practicing failure is such a relatable thing for us all to learn in life.

Fourth, I am going to repeat myself a little here after these translations but, in my opinion, Mo Yi carries a childlike honesty and purity regarding his emotions. The thing that makes him so charming is that while he plays these manipulative tricks, he is also extremely blunt about his own emotions. He expresses his jealousy, his possessiveness, his blunders, etc. He wants her to be the only one who can see these different sides of him and perceive his moods when he normally keeps everyone else at a polite distance. The ONLY disguise he wears is a flimsy one that hides what, in his eyes, are the "ugliest" sides of himself because he doesn't want his heroine to hate him; but he doesn't hide the fact that he has these ugly sides at all.

Fifth, basically, go ahead and fall in love with Mo Yi! He looks dangerous and he sort of is (extremely grey morality, does not adhere to the Hippocratic Oath, literally amassed power to have the choice to do what he wants, and uses his own scale of judgment, but that's another essay for another time) but he is never dangerous to you and is just as invested in this love as you are.

I suppose one thing you do have to watch out for is his arrogant god complex and believing he knows what's best LOL.

[Personal Route Ch.3]

MY: Because the mother eagle knows that, only after experiencing the pain and torment of a broken wing, the young eagle will truly have the ability to soar in the sky.

MY: Although this is just a metaphor that is somewhat different from reality, when it comes to her...

MY: This is the path she chose and, not only will I let her walk on it, but I will also let her become the most dazzling presence on this road.

MY: But, Constable Yan, you should know better than me what sort of end most people who pursue light in the chaos have.

MY: So, to recognize the darkness in front of her and face it directly is something she must learn.

MY: If she was always huddled under the wings of others, then her road would end here.

YW: But aren't you afraid of something happening by chance?

MY: "Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that flutters over its young, spreading out its wings, catching them, bearing them on its pinions."

MY: Since I chose to do this I naturally have enough certainty. Besides... I am here, so who could hurt her?

However, this is not a one-way street and the same goes for the heroine and what she can do to him. In fact, I am going to end this essay with one of my favorite quotes ever in this game (even still to this day), because it honestly shows how Mo Yi fell in love with the dazzling justice the heroine upholds and how he will accept anything of her.

One thing he says in a beta PV, the prologue of the game, and [SSR Border of Light and Darkness] is that he hopes she can stick with the choice she makes, even if it runs counter to the world and everyone is against her.

So, anyway, the context of the quote below is important because [SSR Dangerous Invitation] is essentially a microcosm of their relationship. They roleplay a locked-room mystery and, in the end, the heroine chooses to throw Mo Yi (her lover in the game) into jail because he's a murderer (even though he did it for her). She chooses the truth and her version of justice over them living together in a lie (by pushing the blame to someone else). Before the lover is executed, he writes one last love letter and this is what Mo Yi reads out to his heroine at the end of the date.

[SSR Dangerous Invitation]

MY: Perhaps what he was infatuated with was this kind of you.

MC: !!!

Hearing his words, I looked up in astonishment.

Those gold eyes suddenly became profound and intense. I couldn't understand his emotions, only feeling that I was about to fall into his eyes.

The noisy wind and the voices of people on the long street gradually faded away at his words.

Only my heartbeat remained in my ears and the last love letter the duke wrote to the viscountess before the gallows that he read out slowly.

MY: "I will always open wide my arms and accept all your beauty and cruelty."

MY: "I hope that you will, with this heart, embrace the one and only truth you pursue."

Sorry, I can't resist finishing off by saying some more sappy words but, again, Mo Yi is just a simple man who wishes his first love to be his last love and he's so invested in this love. You are the once-in-a-lifetime stirring of his heart.

#tears of themis #mo yi #vyn richter #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #tears of meta

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penny-beee · 5 years ago

Text

warnings- I used a character name but I can post one with ‘y/n’ if you want

summary- A Ravenclaw and Slytherin living different paths but will the love be able to survive ?

word count- 3.9k

My Girl

The echos of my parents persistent ‘house of Ravenclaw’ speeches ring throw my head as I made my way into Hogwarts. I could feel the stares of my peers as I walked passed them and into the dining hall, whispers of ‘the next headmaster’ falling my every step. Only at the age of eleven would people think it’s okay to push this so harshly onto me. My mother Juliet Payne and father Reginald Payne were as close as one could be to Dumbledore - being as they were the closest of friends they’d made an agreement that once I passed top of class with a level and good nature - I’d become headmaster.

The sorting hat called name after name, Hermoine Granger, Vincent Crabbe, Draco Malfoy, and then me - Persephone Payne. I sat in the chair that towered over me, intricate wooden carvings ran through the back of the chair. Professor McGonagall placed the old hat atop of my head. The overwhelming feeling rushed through me, the rumbling of its voice vibrated and rung my ears.

“I see so much potential, I see the prophecy. Yes..” The hats words ran off. “Yes.. I see much of Gryfindoor but I see much more in Ravenclaw.” It thought for a moment, grumbling down at me. “Ravenclaw!” The hat shouted for the whole room to hear.

Gazing over at Dumbledore, he had a soft smile on his face - he was happy with the result. I knew my parents would be too.

I sat at my wooden desk in my dorm room, the ornate mirror casted my reflection. Long brunette hair curved around my cheek bones, deep green eyes of the forest, and porcelain skin that I had inherited from my darling mother. I cleared my throat, brushing through my bedhead, today being my very first day of classes - I tried hard to look presentable. I slipped on my navy uniform and made my way down to my first class, Charms. I sauntered over to the front of the classroom, Hermoine sat just across from me - books already out. I gave her a soft grin as I got my own supplies out. The young girl had a very competitive energy - her smile back was barely meaningful.

Class went on, we all introduced ourselves and one thing we’d want to learn this year. Not many people paid attention, most gazing off into space or slowly falling asleep. I took notes, repeated important information in my head and volunteered when no one else would. I gathered my few books as class was dismissed, I continued on with my day.

When the long day had ended, I sat at the Ravenclaw dinner table, plenty of students would smile kindly and try to start small conversations. They knew of the prophecy - as did I of course. The dining hall was enormous, bigger than the one at my parents estate. Old stone adorned the walls and floors, headless horsemen and beautiful historic women danced around the room. The dinner had disappeared around 6:30 and desert popped up from the middle of the table, cupcakes and candies lining the center. I placed a white cupcake on my plate, not too bothered in eating the tiny sweet. Mother gave me such a sweet tooth growing up, we had candies and muggle treats around every corner of the house - her excuse was always that she felt it gave a warm feeling to the house.

A bounce of my bench woke me from my thoughts, my head reacted faster than my eyes did and whipped towards the maker of the small commotion. A boy sat besides me; white hair slicked back and light blue-gray eyes stared deeply into my soul. His cocky smirk lit his face up. The boy looked familiar but I couldn’t quite put his face to a name.

“So, you must be Persephone Payne - the girl who will take over from Dumbledore. You’re cursed to this retched place eternally.” He huffed, thinking his disrespect was something humorous.

“I’m sorry, but you are?” Confused why I should even have to listen to a word he had said.

“A pure-blood like yourself and you can’t even recognize a Malfoy. How tragic.” The boy rolled his eyes, it then clicked. The icey blonde hair, cocky demeanor, he was definitely Lucious’ son.

“Ah, Draco. How pleasant to speak to a Malfoy.” The fake words of endearment dripped down my lips like venom. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go get to bed.” I swung my legs over the bench and turned my back on him for the first time.

A few years had passed since my first day at Hogwarts, my name no longer was a big deal (people finally realized I’m just a normal witch with normal feelings). I had grown a few inches in height but never reached the average 5’5”. My cheeks thinned and my invisible curves came in, skin finally cleared after year 3.

Year four - the year of the yule hall and the tri-wizard competition. Alone in the astronomy tower, I watched the stars. The autumn night was crisp, the musky pine smell mixed with a hint of cinnamon was always comforting. A slow wind, kissed my bare wrists and cheeks - turning my face a soft rosy red. Hermoine had ditched out on me tonight, usually she came up here with me to study but with Harry in the competition she didn’t want to leave him or Ron alone. So I stood at the edge of the railing; hand curled under my chin and feet twisted under me. The nights like this were when I felt at peace with the world, the loud halls were forgotten and the lonely meals were put behind me.

I could breathe up here, scream at the world for cursing me to live the life my parents had wanted for me. I adore helping and teaching people from every walk of life, but it being my parents choice before it was mine was the difficulty. I sighed loudly, turning on my heels to leave. A tall blonde boy lurking in the shadows startled me, jumping slightly as my heart raced. Draco.

“I-I was just leaving.” I stuttered in surprise.

“No, no worries I was actually looking for you.” He grinned, nothing of his usual cocky smirk was detected.

“Alright, whats going on?”

His hand reached for the back of his neck, scratching sort of awkwardly. The boy looked shy - preserved almost; hand buried in one of his pockets, hair slightly tussled and the most awkward grin making its way onto his face. “Well, the Yule Ball is coming up and I was sort of hoping you would go with me?” Ah that’s why.

“Sort of?” I tested him.

“Uh, no no. I do hope you would go with me.” There he was, the boy with all the confidence in the world - or maybe none at all. He stood a little taller, head a little higher.

“Sure Draco, I’ll go with you. No funny business though!” I pointed a single finger at him - gently smiling

He simply nodded, gazing down at his feet awkwardly. ��Cool.” He breathed out quietly.

I walked passed him slowly, stepping up slightly to give him a soft kiss of his frozen cheek.

The day of the ball came up quickly - all the girls gossiped about who was taking them and who was taking others. I just smiled and nodded, not wanting to be in the drama too much. My dress was hung up on in my closet for about a week, a sheath navy blue velvet dress waited to be shown off. I happily threw it over my shoulders, the slit went up just to the center of my right thigh, the spaghetti straps accentuated my collar bones perfectly. I straightened my brunette locks and painted light makeup onto my pale face. Leaning over, I strapped on my black heels. Draco had left me red rose the day before, since the night he’d asked me to go with him he’d been around more. He would wave in the halls; sit next to me in class every now and again, even come to the astronomy tower to keep me company. The way I was starting to feel about the Slytherin boy felt dangerous. The heir to the cruel and awful man Lucious with the good and fair heir to Dumbledore was the oddest of mixes. We brought stares when we were seen in public, although we aren’t together - people had their doubts.

Cho came in - swinging the door wide open, of course startling me from my thoughts of Draco. I stood up, nodding at her.

“We’ve got to go Seph.” She smiled, she looked astonishing. The two Ravenclaw girls to be the talk of the night.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Draco met me at the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, he looked dashing. Black suit and fluffed hair, oddly a rush of nerves ran through my body.

His cocky grin showed up once again when his eyes landed on me. “Well don’t you look breathtaking Ms. Ravenclaw.” He smirked.

“As do you Mr. Slytherin.” A hushed chuckle left my lips.

I didn’t take his hand or arm that he offered, instead a little spurt of anxiety dampened my hands. I rubbed them together nervously. My walk was a slight waddle as we made our way to hall, feeling powerful in my heels, I stomped next to Draco - hair swaying behind me. We talked about everything from our parents, to the prophecy, to classes to what our favorite candy was. Draco was sweet, different from what I had seen in the halls throughout the years. He had a kind heart, unlike his father (who I’d met one unfortunate day). His presence was warm, I could actually speak to him. The awful part about this whole thing was that tonight would be the last night I could “pursue” him as my mother said. Him - a Slytherin boy with corrupt parents and views wasn't to be with me. Mother didn’t want to break my heart too much and tell me I couldn’t go with him to the dance, so here I was sadly swaying from side to side to the music in Dracos comforting arms. He smelled of fresh morning dew and a sweet green apple, a unique scent.

I let a single tear fall from my eyes as I laid my head on his chest. No one were to see it, no one were to know of the anguish I was to endure after breaking this poor boys heart. Before he could divulge his eyes onto me, I wiped the tear away. He pulled me out in front of him - a genuine smile on his goofy face.

“Thank you for being my date tonight, we hadn’t talked much these past few years so I was shocked you said yes.” A chuckle left his soft lips.

“I thought I should take a chance on you. I’m glad I did.”

“I really do like you Seph. I can’t help but feel whole when I’m around you, you make my hard days so much better. I want you to be mi-.”

I cut him off.

“Draco, I got to go.” I spun around quickly and made a run for it, I couldn’t do it. I ran down the empty corridors - down halls - turned corners till I made it to the courtyard.

The crisp air rang chills down my spine. “Seph! Persephone!” His voice came into earshot.

“What Draco!?” I shouted, I wasn’t angry but I tried hard to be.

“What’s going on? Why did you run off like that?” He quizzed, I could hear the hurt in his words.

“I can’t be with you. I can’t do this. I don’t want this.” My voice was stern, I stared into his eyes as I watched the happiness fade.

“Why not? What did I do wrong? What happened between now and the last two months?”

“You’re cruel just like your father, I’m suppose to be with someone good. Someone that will help others thrive not drown.”

“I am not like my father.”

I shoved passed him, heart breaking piece by piece as I made my way back to my dorm. The tears fell heavily - gasps and hiccups leaving my throat. A feeling of heartbreak I had never felt before tore at my bones.

Although it had been two years after my “break up” with Draco - I still couldn’t get that boy out of my head. I passed him in the halls - stealing quick glances. Watched from afar as his life spiraled down - I knew he was hurting. Everyday he grew more quiet and more pale, he was becoming a walking bag of bones. I watched as he slowly melted into a depressive state. We had potions together with Mr. Slughorn. Draco was quiet, didn’t ever talk, stayed out of group conversations

As a group, the class stood together in the center of the room. I watched as Slughorn explained the potion in front of us. Amortentia - supposedly the most powerful love potion there was. I chewed on my thumb nail as he called up a few students to take a whiff - of course Hermoine described Ron. Hermoine came and took her spot next to me, she fidgeted with her fingers slightly as she gazed at Ron for a moment.

“Persephone, would you please come take a sniff?” Slughorn asked politely.

I nodded my head, taking the few steps to the cauldron. I bent over taking that small sniff. Memories of Draco filled my head, the teasing back and forth in year three, his perfect winks, his warm smile, resting my head in his chest as we danced - the overwhelming scent of him. The scent from the night he’d asked me to go to the dance with him. Slughorn leaned over, intrigued.

“Uh, fresh air after it’s rained, crisp green apples and cinnamon.”

Slughorn gave me a knowing look before ushering me back to my spot. Glancing out of the corner of my eye I could see Draco's face scrunched up like he had smelled something bad. He was angry with me.

Slughorn dismissed class 20 minutes later, I gathered my things and made my way for the door. Leaving the class behind me, I felt a big hand grasp my wrist, turning me around swiftly. Eyes meeting with the once vast blue ones of Draco's.

“So you reject me and don’t speak to me for two years and then decide to say you smell me for your Amortentia?!” he shouted, his voice startling me. He could see me jump practically afraid of what was to be said next from him.

“I didn’t want it to be you Draco, I didn’t even want to be asked to go up.” My voice quivered, I tried to sound strong - like I hadn’t felt bad for toying with him.

“You’re a real class act Persephone.” With that Draco left, he left me just how I did him two years ago. Alone, sad and broken.

Dumbledore was dead, murdered by his dear friend Snape. The school was taken over, death eaters ran a muck around the school. Our ‘army’ fought hard, throwing spell after spell. I was guarding the Gryfindoor dorms from the death eaters, all of the first through third years hiding away upstairs. A fellow Ravenclaw Beatrice stood next to me, our wands raised while we hid behind our makeshift barriers in front of the wooden doors. My head was pounding, head bashed from a death eater just a few moments before. My fingers ached as I clutched my wand tightly, watching every inch of the corridor for someone of the opposite side. I just wanted mother and father, I just wanted to see Draco one last time. He had come to say goodbye only a few days before, saying he understood if I never forgave him but he had no choice. No details were given but I’m sure he was talking about the current situation.

“You’ll always be a part of me.” His last words to me sang in my ears all day. A boy that was forced into the all wrong choices now had his life on the line because he couldn’t leave his mother behind.

A rush of a few death eaters ran down the hall towards Beatrice and myself, our screams filled the hall as we fought back and forth. Spells flew over my head, next to my face and right at the barrier. I feel like I was done, like I had no more fight inside me, for 5 hours I had been at this post fighting off the cruel and hate filled followers. Finally the two of us fought them off.

The sound of quick steps brought my attention back at the hall, wand up I pointed it at the direction of the sound. Turning the corner, a frightened Draco made his way down the corridor. My wand staying up and pointed at him, did I trust him? Beatrice peeked over at me, unsure of what to do next.

His face was bruised and bloody, suit covered in dust and dirt. He looked lost, like his hope was sucked from his eyes.

“It’s over, Seph. Please, Voldemort wants us out front.” His voice desperate, his eyes searched for help.

I pondered for a moment, wether me going out to the courtyard was the best choice; ultimately deciding yes.

“Beatrice, get Luna and keep the door closed and gaurded.” Beatrice nodded - turning and calling out for Luna from the common room.

Luna stepped out with her wand in hand, I gave the two girls a strong smile and walked away from them. I clenched my wand tightly in my hand as I walked with Draco. We didn’t speak, he knew I was angry at him, he knew that if it were any other time I’d shout and shout till my voice broke. We made our way to the front entrance and stood among the crowd - sifting through the people we both stood out at the very front.

Harry used all his power to fight against Voldemort, he pushed and pushed till Voldemort finally let off and died from the over power of Harry. Draco held my hand behind his body, tightly he saw his mother emerge from the band of death eaters. His mother stared over and found us, her eyes pleaded for him.

“Draco.” Her soft voice sang from across the way.

He didn’t move.

“Draco, let’s go home.” Again, she quietly begged for her son back.

His grip let go of my own, taking strides towards his mother. The whole group watching him leave the scene silently. My heart shattering for the third time, he had left me behind again.

My chest caving in, I made my way to the make shift infirmary. There laid my mother and father, dead.

Merlin mocked me, he looked down on me and decided all in one day I were to lose the love of my life, parents and friends. My throat grew dry, I felt dizzy and like I was suffocating. Hoarse screams left my throat as I fell onto my knees next to my deceased parents. The life taken from their kind souls, no goodbyes were ever given.

I felt people staring, for the first time since fourth year I felt alienated again. I felt helpless and weak. I pushed the tears that wouldn’t stop spilling from my cheeks, snot mixing with them making me look like pure hell.

That night I cried myself to sleep, for the last time I was with my mother and father. My body was shriveled while I slept in a hall.

A couple of years passed, I inherited my parents estate and all the money they left behind. I declined the offer at Hogwarts as I had lost so much in my years there. The ministry understood - I lived off the 1.2 billion dollars my parents left behind for me.

The house was huge, 10 bedrooms and 12 bathrooms all for myself, my cat Ginger and my house elf Elsa. Elsa and Ginger were my only friends these days. The house had a warm toned pallet, all shades of brown and maroon. Antique furniture and paintings filled each room, plants in every window. Most days I spent in the living room, laying under the huge window listening to classical music and reading. Elsa would make some tea for us and we’d read together or she’d go off and do her own thing.

I finished up my plate of pasta and grabbed Elsas from her as she had finished as well. I sauntered over to the cozy candle-lit kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink - not feeling up to the task quite yet. I sighed - another night of being alone in the huge house I called home. I roamed up the wide wooden stairs to my bedroom in the west wing.

The walls were painted a sandy beige, floors a dark cherry oak and a large ornate rug laid on top. My wide bed sat in between two grand windows, draped with sheer white curtains. I had two antique wooden night stands next to my bed, photos of my family were on each. The smell of cinnamon apple was a constant need for my room to feel warm and welcoming. Like the boy all those years ago.

I drug my feet over to my walk-in closet and looked for my navy silk night gown. Satisfied, i slipped out of my day clothing and pulled the gown up onto my body. I turned to gaze into my floor length mirror, looking at my body. A single scar on my shoulder left from the war, reminded me everyday of what happened.

A chime of my doorbell filled my ears - making me question why someone would be here so late. I grabbed my silky mesh robe and threw it across my shoulders. I walked out of my room and towards the stair case. As I glanced down at the door, now opened and Elsa closing it behind the guest my heart quickened it’s beating. A boy I once knew was now a man. His famous black suit with a black turtle neck underneath, blonde hair hanging down his face, small wrinkles forming in between his brows, his skin brighter and eyes blue once more. Tears began flowing down my face, I fastened my pace - robe flowing in the wind behind me. I jumped off the last stair and into Draco’s arms. He caught me perfectly. I held onto the back of his hair, wanting to make sure he was really there. I cried into the man, holding him so tightly afraid he’d disappear if I didn’t.

“My girl. My Seph. I’m here now.” His voice cracked, he was starting to cry too.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” My muffled words floated into the air.

“I know, but I got out. I couldn’t take it anymore, living the life others wanted for me.” He took a deep breath in. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” Voice calming.

I pulled out of his hug, placing me gently on the ground so he could look at me properly. “you look as beautiful as the day I lost you.” A tear fell from his sorrowful eyes.

Wiping it away, I connected our lips. All the passion I had worked up for years just let out in one kiss. His hands grabbed at my hips, one arm gently moved to my cheek and then to the back of my head getting lost in my messy hair.

I pulled away once more and grabbed his hand from my hip, leading him up the stairs to our new room.

#imagine #draco malfoy imagine #spotify #tom felton #tom felton imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader

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architectuul · 4 years ago

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FOMA 44: Forgotten Sarajevo

During our online conversation Lejla texted me that it is difficult to come across reference material in Bosnia in general as libraries and archives have been burnt down and there hasn’t been enough digitisation.

Architecture of Bosnia and the Way to Modernity by Dušan Grabrijan and Juraj Neidhard, Sarajevo 1957

The 1984 Winter Olympics known as Sarajevo '84, was held between 8 and 19 February 1984 in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia.

Let's have a look of five impressive Forgotten Masterpieces in Sarajevo. Designed by Živorad Janković and Halid Muhasilović, Skenderija is a multi-functional cultural and sports centre completed in 1969. This building was the first of its kind in the former Yugoslavia and in many ways acted as a prototype for many similar complexes that were later built throughout the country. As such, Skenderija played a curial role in the development of not only the local architecture, but also of Yugoslavian modernist architecture as a whole. It was the first hybrid building in the former Yugoslavia that fused together many different functions (sports, performance, entertainment, shopping, food, service, etc.) within a singular multi-storey complex that employed a modernist aesthetics prevalent of the time.

The complex consists of three buildings; a large sports hall in the first, a number of smaller sports halls in the second building and Dom Mladi (House of Youth) with cultural content in the third. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

The buildings are arranged around an open plateau, a city agora, under which is located a subterranean commercial level with a circulation path that allows access all three buildings. The project was innovative in the complex construction system used that allowed for large spans. It also reflected the modernist ambition of honesty in the material use, with the concrete articulation of all the façades. In many ways, due to its scale and cultural significance, the complex shifted the symbolic gravitation from the old city centre and established an additional point of prominence. In urbanistic terms it expended the city beyond the exiting east-west axis and opened the south bank of the river Miljacka.

Skenderija allowed Sarajevo to take on a new cultural significance that would later be sealed by the Winter Olympics in 1984. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

The Communist Party of Yugoslavia started the project of the Sarajevo’s main railway station as an architectural competition with the ultimate goal of physically uniting the country through its railway system. At the beginning of Socialist Yugoslavia, the country’s political views strongly aligned with those of the USSR and the remainder of the communist bloc. As such, Yugoslavian architecture at this time, although modernist in spirit was still heavily influenced by the social realism that was used as a political tool and prevailed in the majority of the eastern bloc countries.

The Railway station was opened in 1952 and in its thirty years of function, up until the siege in 1992, the building was one of the most monumental structures in Sarajevo. | Photo via Mirza Hasanefendic

Social realism in Sarajevo brought on a range of contradictions in its architectural articulation. It ranged from architecture for the masses most clearly articulated in the residential settlements for the worker’s housing to that of highly articulated and relatively well executed public buildings, mostly designed through architectural competitions.

The main railway station in Sarajevo reflects the complexity of a more western modernism. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

Once the initial reconstruction phase after WWII was completed cultural and institutional buildings became the next phase of focus. One of these included the Ministry of Public Health. It is heavily modernist in nature, however, the social realist influence remains visible. It was built only a few years after the main railway station but the break away from the social realism is even more apparent in this case. This shift in architectural expression occurred as a direct result in the political and ideological drift between Yugoslavia and USSR.

The building relies on pure geometry, abstracted decoration in the form of vertical fins at the front façade, simplified openings and a receded top floor which allow for a terrace on the top floor. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

The principal focus of the social realism buildings was an exaggerated scale in order to instill the notion of grandness of the state and to inspire deference towards the authorities, which in this case was the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. Since this building was designed and built as a Ministry of Public Heath, Ivanović strived to employ majority of these principles but he broke away from some keys aspect that defied socialist realism at the time.

The building follows the rigid symmetry often employed by social realism and breaks a number of rules, which shift it towards a more ‘western’ modernist building. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

The Communist party took control of Yugoslavia following the end of WWII in 1945. Like the majority of European cities, a considerable damage was suffered by the urban fabric in Yugoslavia as well. As such, one of the major tasks of the new socialist system was to rebuild as fast and as efficiently as possible. However, both the amount of resources and the number of available architects was limited and as such the initial wave of reconstruction was very utilitarian.

One of the most notable residential projects that dates back to the post-war period is the residential complex on Džidžikovac that resulted from a design competition set forth in 1947 and won by the above-mentioned Kadić brothers. The project was completed in just over a year which resulted in relatively poor construction quality, which was the case with many residential buildings constructed around this timeframe.

The design and the modernist spirit of the project render it as one of the most notable residential complexes in Sarajevo. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

The complex contains three linear residential blocks each consisting of a number of three-storey interconnecting buildings that cascade along the existing topography. In addition, the three blocks are surrounded by open green space that integrates the building into the existing site forming a sense of a unified complex. Although the project has been declared as a protected national monument in 2008, the reconstruction done since the end of the siege in the 1995, has been to a large extent insensitive to the initial design principles of the Kadić brothers.

Each block have a set of semi-circular terraces suspended by receded columns - the signature feature of this project. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

Completed in 1956, six years after the Ministry of Public Health, Residential Building and Šipad Headquarters breaks away from the social realist influence and draws inspiration from Oscar Niemeyer instead, thus creating one of the most prominent modernist buildings in Sarajevo.

Although the two buildings are separate entities they lean on each other and share a part of the side wall. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

In order to allow for a continuous pedestrian flow, Ivanović frees part of the ground floor of the Šipad Headquarters, and thus creates a covered promenade lined with the distinct V shaped columns visually suspending the building off them. | Photo Lejla Odobašić Novo

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#FOMA 44: Lejla Odobašić Novo

Lejla Odobasic Novo is a Bosnian-Canadian architect and an architectural theorist who is currently working between Sarajevo and Toronto. She obtained her bachelor and master’s degrees from the University of Waterloo School of Architecture where she also held a research position and upon graduation worked as an Adjunct Professor at the Rome Campus. She holds a professional licence issued by the Ontario Association of Architects (2014) and is an Assistant Professor at the International Burch University in Sarajevo where she obtained her PhD and currently teaches architectural design and architectural theory. Lejla’s research focuses on the role of architecture, and in particular cultural heritage, in conflicted and contentious places. Within this field, she has carried out projects, exhibitions, publications and other cultural initiatives including her work with Liana Breser, Jerusalem-Sarajevo: In-between Cities, that was exhibited in Canada, UK, Bosnia and Croatia (2010-2011). She has also participated in DAAR Decolonizing Architecture residency and research group in the Palestine under Eyal Weizman, Sandi Hilal and Alessandro Petti (2010). Lejla is also a member of Kuma International, an International Center for the Visual Arts from Post-Conflict Societies. In addition to her academic work, she has also worked in architectural practices internationally including Toronto, London, Madrid, Rome and Istanbul.

#foma #forgotten masterpieces

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iliveiloveiwrite · 5 years ago

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Memories

Request: Can I get a request where Sirius and reader grew up together, her family is also part of the of the sacred 28, and they are like best friends even though she’s a slytherin. And when Sirius finally escapes Azkaban he goes and hides at her place. Maybe she tells people she adopted a large black dog 😜

A/N: I LOVED WRITING THIS. I approached it in a manner I don't usually do so I hope you like it and I really hope I’ve done your request justice because the minute I started writing it, I was over 2.5k words in before I even came up for air. Flashbacks are written in bold and are bordered by two ** at the beginning and end to hopefully avoid confusion. I hope you all enjoy! I am slowly making my way through the other requests. Love to you all!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, sadness, negative emotions, some swearing

Word count: 3.9k

MASTERLIST

In the wizarding world, there were very few publications that printed credible new stories. The instant you pick up your copy of The Daily Prophet from where the mail owl had dropped it on your stoop, you knew that this would be the only news story that would be covered across all news outlets.

It had been an age since you had seen his face; seen those eyes that you fell in love with in your fifth year of Hogwarts. Staring at the moving image now, those eyes are full of fear. Your heart breaks at the sight of him.

Moving to your kitchen, your mind takes you back to one of the many memories shared with Sirius growing up as a member of the Sacred 28:

The garden at the Black’s country manor is the opposite of their house. The garden is warm, it’s full of life. The house is cold, full of secrets.

You hated coming here; dragging your heels whenever your family had to make the annual summer trip. You didn’t like Mr. Black – he was cold, and his eyes were mean, and you didn’t like how he looked at his eldest son, Sirius.

The only reason you didn’t pitch up enough of a fight was so you could see Sirius. The same age as you, you had known each other since diapers, and he was your closest friend. Time apart from Sirius was filled with the constant stream of letters sent between the both of you.

He knew that you couldn’t spend a lot of time in the manor house; he knew to find you in his mother’s rose garden that was tended to with such care – something he had seen only in private; only when his father couldn’t see.

He joins you amongst the roses; inhaling their heady scent and counting the colours – red, pink, yellow, orange. An entire rainbow presented here in the garden; one that would not be reflected in the house.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You turn to him, moving on the bench to make room for him. “I like the colours.”

He hums in agreement. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Are you scared?” You ask.

“To go to Hogwarts?”

You nod. The letters had arrived to both of you within a week of each other. Your parents couldn’t be more thrilled – another Slytherin in their midst.

“I’m not scared. I’m excited to see what could happen.”

“I’m excited too. I just don’t want to let my parents down.”

Sirius knocks his shoulder against yours, “I don’t think that’s possible. It’ll be me doing all the disappointing – just you wait.”

You laugh, instantly feeling at ease. Sirius could always manage to calm you down. With him at Hogwarts with you, you didn’t feel as scared.

The newspaper makes its home on your kitchen counter.

The kettle is soon boiling on the stove as you decide that a warm drink would be needed for you to face the details of the article.

The shock of seeing his face has worn off somewhat as you finally turn to confront The Daily Prophet. Countless times you had imagined what Sirius would look like when he hit his thirties – he would always be handsome and he would always have his roguish smile, but staring at the photo again, you never imagined this.

Thrashing about in the photo; a man close to madness. He had lost part of himself the night Lily and James were murdered in Godric’s Hollow. From there, he acted – he didn’t think.

Tears begin to form as you remembered how he was on the very first time you travelled on the Hogwarts’ Express:

You were not ashamed to admit that a few tears did fall as you said goodbye to your parents before stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. Your mother and father hugged you tightly before promising to meet you on the platform for the Christmas break.

You hold onto that promise as you search for an empty compartment to sit in.

You never find that compartment; Sirius finds you first.

“(Y/N)! Here! I’ve saved you a place.”

“Sirius!” You shout, entering the compartment he was sharing with three other boys.

“(Y/N), meet James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.”

Each boy shakes your hand, and you immediately decide that you like them and would like to be fast friends with them.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

James’ eyes widen, “As in the (Y/L/N) of the Sacred 28?”

You nod, “The very same.”

James whistles, “I didn’t think I would be meeting a member of the Sacred 28 on my first day of school.”

“You’re meeting two actually. My surname is Black.”

Neither you nor Sirius realised just how much those three boys would mean to you. You smile wistfully as think of the events that unfolded after that initial meeting:

“Gryffindor!” The Sorting Hat exclaims atop of James Potter’s head. The smile on his face impossibly large as he makes his way over to the table reserved for Gryffindors.

The butterflies in your stomach had become a full blow riot; the nerves making your hands shake until Sirius grabbed one and squeezed tightly. The nerves had settled somewhat but they were still present.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Professor McGonagall calls out.

You ascend the steps, taking a seat on the solitary stool. The Sorting Hat is placed upon your head and you can feel him deliberating which house would best suit you.

In less than a minute he has decided: “Slytherin!”

The Slytherin table shout their welcomes as you make their way over to them, taking a seat among your fellow first years.

You watch nervously as Sirius is called to take a seat. The Hat is placed on his head and it deliberates, trying to decide the best fit for him.

It’s as if the Great Hall falls silent when the Sorting Hat calls out “Gryffindor!”

Remus sends an owl a week after the news of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban breaks. He apologises for not writing sooner, but having been offered a teaching position at Hogwarts, he had been somewhat caught up in lesson plans. The rest of his letter oozes of his worry for you – how are you coping with this? Do you want to come to Hogsmeade? We can talk it through. How sorry he is for you having to experience this all over again.

Your reply covers the fact that you are alright – that yes, this was the last thing you ever expected but all it has done so far is made you reminisce of times at Hogwarts, was he experiencing the same now that Sirius was back?. However, he needed to tell you everything about his new job – what was it like? Was he teaching Baby Harry who was no longer a baby but old enough for Hogwarts now?

The onslaught of memories that have troubled you since the moment you spied Sirius’ face on the front page did not let up as you tumble into another memory from Hogwarts and distantly wondered whether Harry was experiencing the same exam stress:

The textbook is wrenched out of your hands, and you start to shout at the culprit before realising two things: you are in the library, and it was Sirius.

Instead of shouting and jeopardising your position in library, you settle on pinning Sirius with a glare.

He answers with his own glare, “You have been studying for months, what more could you need to know?”

“Not all of us is gifted academically, Sirius. These are our OWLs; I need to do well.”

“Take a break, (Y/N). I miss you.” He says, pouting.

You return his pout, “Poor baby Gryffindor. Give me back my textbook.”

He sighs dramatically before handing you back your textbook. You return to reading, writing the occasional note but you can feel the weight of his stare.

You huff, “Two more hours, and I’ll meet you outside your common room, okay?”

His smile is blinding, he presses a long kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear, “Don’t study too hard.”

He leaves before he can see you press a hand to your cheek, trying to keep the imprint of his lips on your cheek.

Your relationship with Sirius had naturally progressed from friendship to romantic, but the friendship did remain. You offered him your whole heart, and he offered you his. It was often joked by Remus that there would be no better fit for the other. James had called it from the start, or so he claimed. It was hard to avoid the longing look Sirius would send your way when you weren’t looking.

It had been something similar for you – longing glances in class, at mealtimes. Wanting nothing more than to take the relationship to the next level; to tell him exactly how you felt about him – how being around him feels like you’re drowning until he looks at you and you can finally breathe and that pressure on your chest has been lifted.

But the fear. That fear of ruining a lifelong friendship paralysed you. It paralysed him as well – until sixth year when he needed to say something for the worry that his feelings may cause him to internally combust.

“Sirius, I don’t know why you’re angry at me. What have I done? How can I fix it?” It was so very rare that Sirius was angry with you, that you fought about anything.

“It’s nothing, (Y/N). Let’s leave it.”

“No. It’s upset you, and you’ve been off with me since breakfast. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Sirius runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back despite the fact that it would always back into his eyes. He huffs, remaining silent on the subject.

You roll your eyes at his silence, knowing that he would revert to silence to avoid the subject and work it out on his own. You use the silence to think back to breakfast, as to what could have happened to affect his mood for the whole day.

Nothing exciting happened – you joined the Marauders for breakfast, discussing Hogsmeade plans with Peter as you filled your plate. The only thing out of the ordinary was being approached by Justin Mayhew from your Muggle Studies class, asking if you had the notes from Monday’s lecture as he had missed it due to illness. You had smiled at him, telling him you would lend him your notes this afternoon in class. He returned your smile before thanking you – it was a quick interaction that had meant nothing to you.

Oh. You blink.

Oh.

“You’re jealous.” You state.

“It wasn’t that.”

“Then you’re going to have to elaborate then because all I’ve come up with is jealousy.”

“You smiled at him.”

“What?”

“You smiled at him. And I saw how the narrative of my life was going to play out – that I was destined to be reserved to the side lines and watch you smile at other men, and I was to act as if it didn’t bother me. As if I was the villain of your story.”

“What are you saying?”

He runs his hand through his hair again, letting out a frustrated groan, “I’m saying that I have been in love with you for years now and it’s fucking shit to realise that you don’t love me back.”

“Sirius, you can be so dense sometimes.”

“I’ve laid my heart bare, sprawled it on the table in front of us and you insult me?”

“Yes, you prick. I love you too.”

He blinks. Once, twice, three times before: “You love me too?”

You throw your arms wide, “Yes! I have since fifth year. I adore you.”

He’s in front of you in an instant; one hand on your cheek, the other wrapping itself around your waist, pulling you close to him. He searches your eyes for any hint of reservation – when he finds none, he kisses you.

And everything makes sense.

From there, you and Sirius went from strength to strength. Graduating Hogwarts together, quickly moving into a small cottage in the neighbouring village to Godric’s Hollow. Neither James nor Sirius could be too far apart.

James and Lily’s wedding was something to behold. You were not ashamed of the tears that flowed at the sight of Sirius up at the altar, stood next to James, looking as proud as any Best Man could.

The birth of Baby Harry truly brought everything together. Being named godparents to that precious child meant everything to you and Sirius.

As you sit in your living room, your mind drifts to Harry again – what would he look like now? Is he more James than Lily or more Lily than James?

A fresh wave of guilt crashes upon you as you think of how you never fought to keep custody of him. The first year after Sirius’ arrest had been so delicate; everyone walked on eggshells around you, afraid to set you off.

The night of James and Lily’s death was something that whilst you had been aware of the threat to their lives, you never expected. Placing your head in your hands, you think back to that night:

The right side of the bed is cold, you frown as you paw at it, looking for the man you loved.

Sighing, you pull the covers off you, shivering at the cold in the air. Wrapping your dressing gown around your body, you head downstairs, deciding to wait for Sirius in the living room.

You don’t have to wait long.

The front door opens, and Sirius falls into the house. You’re there in an instant. He’s pale and trembling – whatever has happened was bad enough to send him into this state.

“Sirius, my love, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, screwing them up so tight you know he’s seeing stars behind his eyelids. He presses his hands to face as if trying to erase whatever image he was now seeing.

He takes a stuttering breath before finally uttering: “James. Lily. Murdered.”

His voice breaks on the final word and his tears finally start up. Heart-wrenching sobs take over his body, and he slides to knees in the entryway. Your arms wrap around him as you attempt to process the three words he barely got out.

There, you both sit, wrapped up in the other. Carding your hands through his famously unruly hair, you hold the broken man to your chest and let him get his feelings out.

Wrenching your eyes shut, you try to stem the flow of your tears. For obvious reasons, this was not a memory you revisited often. Sirius that night was broken – there was no other way of putting it.

You remember him coming home, barely containing his shaking. Only being able to get out the words: “James, Lily, murdered” before the sobs overtook him and you held him close – trying your very hardest to keep your own tears at bay. You had to be strong for Sirius now.

You never realised Sirius was planning his revenge as you held him in your arms:

He presses a searing kiss to your lips; it feels like a goodbye, you could only pray it wasn’t.

“Sirius, tell me where you’re going.” You demand as he pulls away.

He kisses you one more time, “I’m going to right a wrong.”

And just like that he’s out the door. By the time you realise what he’s going to do, his motorcycle is already in the air.

The rest of that day is a blur with only a few coherent moments throughout. You remember Remus arriving at the house; you remember the Aurors at your door; and you remember being told you would never see him again.

You had been catatonic after that; sinking to the floor, heaving out sob after sob. Your heart had been cleaved in two and thrown onto the floor. You could see no recovery from this.

It had taken time; it had taken care from Remus, from your parents.

Your relationship with parents had become rocky once you announce your relationship with Sirius. Your father worked with Sirius’ father and after Sirius had disowned the Black family, your relationship with him was the last thing they expected. It had taken a while, but they grew to love Sirius as if he were their son.

You think back to their care in the initial days after Sirius’ incarceration; how gentle they had been with you when all they wanted to do was rage at what had happened to their daughter.

Twelve years later, you still owed them for that. Your mother had waved away your constant attempt at thanks reiterating that she was your mother and would care for you regardless of the state you were in.

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The flashbacks become more common after sighting a black dog in town. You think back to your Divination lessons at Hogwarts and remembering the meaning of sighting a black dog. You push that thought out of your mind; if you were to meet impending doom, it would have happened by now.

As you’re paying for your shopping, another thought hits you. It isn’t a normal black dog – and you suddenly feel so bloody foolish that you haul your shopping back to your house where you make enough food for two, leaving a plate by your door as well as large dressing gown that once belonged to the man you now suspected was hiding in his animagus form.

A knock on the door soon follows.

You’ve never answered the door faster.

Stood there, wrapped in the dressing gown, is Sirius.

“(Y/N).” The moment your name falls from his lips, it’s as if a twelve year old wound is suddenly healed.

“Sirius.”

You have a split-second decision to make: let him in or turn him away.

Your heart makes the decision for you. You move to the side, giving him permission to enter the house he once shared with you; the house he once hoped to have a family in.

“You’ve decorated.” He states, as if he hasn’t been imprisoned for twelve years, but rather on holiday.

You cough, “Yeah, I needed to make some changes.”

He nods, understanding the meaning behind your words.

He follows you into the kitchen where you immediately head over to the kettle; pouring water in before placing it on the stove to heat up. Whatever conversation was to follow needed a mug of tea. As your mother always says – the world can be put to right over a mug of tea.

His eyes focus on your left hand as you hand him the hot mug of tea and walk into the living room. He notes the lack of wedding ring, and he can’t help but feel some relief at that.

You notice him staring at your hand as he takes a seat on the couch across from you. “There hasn’t been anyone since you. After you were arrested and the Aurors showed up on our doorstep, I wasn’t in any state to even remotely think about dating.”

The guilt swims in his eyes.

You sigh as you stare at the mug of liquid in your hands, “I found the ring box two weeks after you were imprisoned. Remus suggested I pack some of your things away and move them into the attic. He came over and helped; I was putting on your favourite leather jacket when I felt the box in its pocket. The moment I opened it and saw the ring nestled there, I just about lost it all over again. Poor Remus had to calm me down - it took a while. I’ll never be able to pay him back for all he did in that first year.”

Sirius clears his throat before speaking, “I had it all planned out. I had asked your father and he had given me his permission. I was going to cook your favourite meal and ask you over dessert. It was a cliché, retired idea but I knew you would never appreciate the grand spectacles. There are few things I regret in this life; not proposing to you, not marrying you is one of them.”

There are a thousand things you want to say to him in that moment; the emotions coursing through your body are too much for you to catalogue, not knowing what or how to feel.

You don’t get a chance to form an answer, however. A knock sounds at your door and you release a swear that Sirius had never heard you say.

“You need to go,” You say, grabbing Sirius by the arm, hauling him up from his place on the couch.

“What? Why? I just got here.”

To answer his question, your mother shouts through the door: “(Y/N), dear, are you alright?”

You shout to the door, “Yes, mum. I’m just finding a clean shirt!”

You can hear her chuckle through the door.

Sirius squawks in indignation as you drag him to the back door. You hiss at him, “I need you to transform. The last thing my mother needs to find is you in my house. You’re probably the reason she’s here.”

Sirius smirks, “Your mother always did like me.”

“Transform, Sirius.” You plead. He nods silently as he leaves your house. The only confirmation of his transformation is the bark coming from your back garden.

You school your face into an expression which hopefully shows that you haven’t been spending time with your ex-boyfriend who happens to have escaped from prison where he was put for murdering some friends and muggles. Straightening your shirt, you open your front door to see your mother’s concerned face.

“I wish I could have come sooner,” She says, walking into your living room.

“Don’t worry about it, mum. You and Father were travelling, I wouldn’t expect you to drop everything to come back for this.”

She frowns, “But, darling, how could I not worry?” Clearly referring to your state after Sirius’ arrest was not something she did lightly, but it had to be brought up.

You wave a hand in dismissal, “It’s been twelve years, mum. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it. Besides, I doubt I would be where he would come to for refuge.”

She purses her lips but says nothing more on the subject to your relief.

You smile at your mother, “How about a cup of tea?”

“That sounds lovely.”

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

“Honey?” You mother asks as she places two empty cups in the sink.

You hum.

“Why is there a large black dog in your garden?”

“He’s my new company. I figured after twelve years, I need some company, but didn’t want the hassle of a man.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I adopted him. He’s called Snuffles if you can believe it.”

Your mother chuckles, turning away from the kitchen window. “Snuffles? It suits him.”

You smile, “Doesn’t it just.”

She leaves soon after, a kiss pressed to your cheek as she walks out the door.

The minute the front door shuts, the back one opens and Sirius walks in.

“Fancy harbouring a fugitive?” He asks.

You have known this man for all of your life, been in love with him for over half – there was no-one before him and there would be no-one after him. It takes less than a minute for you to answer.

“Of course.”

Sirius answering smile is blinding.

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