#and she taught me how she does it

[terrainofheartfelt]

prompt- jenny finding out about dair and her reaction + her being happy for them

Dair + Jenny

After she hangs up the phone, Jenny stares into space for what must be twenty straight minutes. 

Her fingers twitch, needing something to do, something to keep them busy. It’s been her prime coping mechanism since, well, probably since she developed the fine motor skills necessary. If she was too hyper or bouncing off the walls, her mother put a crayon in her hand, or a pencil, or a paintbrush, and then later, fabric, thread, needles. The act of making something gave her a way to focus, to take all that ambition that had been born in her blood and do something with it. 

She grabs her sketchpad, starts on a figure and the shape of a dress without really looking at it. When she does, she realizes she doesn’t want to design anything at all, and tears the page out, a new blank one gaping up at her. 

Jenny sighs, slumping back against the wall of her dormitory, drumming her fingertips on the paper. 

She’s not…mad, not really. The way Dan talked, all cautious and careful and slow, like she was a feral cat he was trying to persuade to come out of the alley, he probably expected her to be angry, but she wasn’t. Or if she was, it feels different than the kind of anger that ate her alive back in New York. 

Not wanting to design but needing to draw something, she falls back on an old standby learned from her mother. She picks up a pen, and starts scrawling across the page, filling all the empty space, just random letters, well, maybe not so random, D-A-N, B-L-A-I-R, W-A-L-D-O-R-F, E-V-I-L S-P-A-W-N. When a sufficient amount of the page is covered, she starts connecting the lines, weaving the letters together until they’re unintelligible, a collected framework of lines, an abstract approximation of the iron outline of stained glass windows of the Anglican church down the street. 

Once satisfied with the skeletal structure, Jenny grabs her box of colored pencils. She’s meticulous, one color at a time, taking care not to use two similar hues next to each other. 

Her mom always made her own coloring sheets like this. In the evenings, after dinner but before bedtime, when Dan would disappear behind a book and Dad behind his guitar, her mom would sit in the armchair by the record player and just…color, just like this, filling an entire page with a riot of different hues and shades that did look like stained glass, so bright it reminded Jenny of the blown glass vases her parents displayed in the kitchen that she wasn’t allowed to touch.

Sometime, around the time Jenny was starting to think of herself as an artist too, she insisted that Mom show her how she made them, and she did. Jenny remembers being almost disappointed that there was no great secret to it. Scribble, connect the ends, color in the blank spaces. 

“It’s no genius work,” Alison told her, “but it’s meditative. Relaxes the mind.” 

Jenny could definitely do with that, she thinks as she picks up another pencil. Bright red, like cherry lip gloss. 

She didn’t yell. She didn’t give her blessing—because why should she—but she didn’t yell, didn’t make any accusations. She bit her tongue, and powered through the conversation best she could, sprinting to the end of the phone call. And now here she is. 

She knows what she wants to say, but she also knows that she can’t say it to Dan. 

You can’t badmouth the boyfriend. Another nugget of wisdom from her mom, delivered unto her last year, when one of her friends from show choir in Hudson started dating a grade-A douchebag, and that’s judging from Jenny’s rubric, which has a steep curve. 

Jenny couldn’t stand being around him, and more than that, didn’t want her friend giving her own time to someone who didn’t deserve it, all of which she told her mother. She and Alison undertook a thorough Full Disclosure policy when she moved to Hudson. It worked pretty well, even when Jenny didn’t like the advice she heard. 

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say that will sway her,” Alison told her. “All you can do is just love her, so when the bottom drops out she’ll know that you are there for her.”

Jenny kept her mouth shut, and, a week before senior prom, the douchebag showed his true, douchey colors, and Jenny was there for her friend. 

But what sucked is that Jenny would have been there regardless, so why should someone she cares about have to go through the wreckage of heartbreak to fall back on something they already had? 

Dan has a more resilient heart than she does. It’s just fact, they went to that school and went through their own dark forests of fucked-up shit, and while she broke down, Dan’s still there. Dan still believes, in true love, in finding the one, no matter how many times he gets hurt for the sake of the one. He’s so much like their mom, but on this, he’s his father’s son through and through.

Maybe that’s the problem. Sometimes Jenny imagines stretching her arm out over the Atlantic Ocean, plucking up her brothers by the shirt collar and carrying them over to London, to safer ground. 

But when everything got bad, she felt like she couldn’t turn to anyone, but even then Dan had been ready to punch out any one that wronged her, so long as he gave her the chance to talk and she gave him the chance to listen. So, she doesn’t want to cut him off. Even though she doesn’t know how not to, given what he’s just told her. 

So, she colors, she puts it onto the paper like her mother taught her, puts the words she couldn’t say into the phone into each swatch of color. 

She’s going to wreck you. She is going to wreck you and leave you in pieces and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it. 

Half the page colored, she puts on her headphones, blasts music from her laptop. She cycles through most of Paramore’s discography by the time the page is filled.

Jenny lets out a deep breath as she examines her handiwork. Stained glass on paper. And, despite herself, it worked, like mac and cheese, like chocolate chip waffles, like any comfort from her childhood. 

On impulse, she grabs her phone, snaps a picture of her DIY coloring sheet, and sends it to Dan. She doesn’t know what to say to him, but words had always been more his thing anyway. 

Two minutes later, Dan sends a photo back, one of his own attempt, still in progress, on one of his legal pads he uses for outlining. 

Love you, she sends. 

Love you too, he texts back. 

Jenny’s still worried, but she thinks, or maybe hopes, that everything will turn out okay. 

3 years later…

Jenny and Nate stumble through the door of their Airbnb. Well, Jenny stumbles, she’s been in these heels too long. Wherever they go, no matter how fucked up they are, Nate always carries himself with an infuriating amount of athletic grace. It’s that damn pub football league. 

“Oh, couch,” Jenny sighs, collapsing onto the piece of furniture in question. It’s very comfy. They truly scored with this one, booked on a whim by Jenny while they were still on the train this morning. 

Dan and Blair had their own suite at the Plaza Athénée; when Blair heard they were staying in the 5th, she’d rolled her eyes, but even she was too happy to spend any time berating Jenny and Nate’s choice of lodging on the “wrong” side of the Seine. 

“So,” Nate says lightly, toeing off his shoes and leaving them beside her discarded boots, “how are you feeling?” He bends to pick up the coat she’d dropped on the floor next, hanging it up along with his. He takes such good care of her. 

“Exhausted,” she answers, hanging her head over the back of the sofa, as Nate drops down next to her. “Can you believe we were in a different country this morning? And we took a train underwater?”

He laughs lightly, stretching out and putting his head in her lap. “That’s not what I meant. I meant: how are you doing? About today?”

She frowns down at him puzzledly, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a conflict of interest asking that question?”

“My interest is you, babe,” he reaches up, tapping the back of his hand on her sternum. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I seem to recall already having this conversation with Eric after Dan proposed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m checking in again.”

Jenny sighs, tilting her head back to think. “I’m good. Really.” She clasps Nate’s outstretched hand in one of hers, and runs the other through his hair, soft between her fingers. “I’ve had enough time to get used to the idea. And while I don’t think I’m completely used to it…” she shrugs. “The more I see them together, the more it makes sense.”

Nate makes a small hum, his little nonverbal way of saying I’m listening, and Go on. 

“I don’t know,” she takes a breath, gathering her thoughts, trying to shape them into words, “Dan’s always been just…himself, but like, in soft lines, shaded in. But…now he’s more…sharper. Like the outline of him has finally been inked in, you know?”

Nate blinks up at her, crease forming between his eyebrows. “I think so?”

Jenny laughs, and he strokes his thumb over her knuckles. “I just mean, this is the most himself I’ve ever seen him be. And if you repeat this I’ll deny it, but I think a lot of it has to do with Blair. So…” she sighs, melodramatic, “for him, I’ll suffer through being legally related to her.”

Nate snorts, face breaking into that sunrise grin Jenny loves so much. He brings their joined hands down, settling them on his chest. She’s never historically been much of a hand holder, but Nate loves it, and she loves him. And, she loves that it’s her he’s reaching for. 

“I’m happy for him,” she declares. “And I’m happy he asked me to come. And I’m really happy that we won’t be anywhere near when he tells Dad.” 

Nate makes a noise of agreement. “Or Eleanor.” 

“Oh my god, yeah.”

They both laugh, out of not only amusement at the mental image of Rufus and Eleanor’s respective reactions, but also relief, that Jenny and Nate won’t be in the blast zone when the bomb drops. There are definite advantages to the ex-patriot life. 

“Is that something you want?” Nate asks softly. 

“Facing the wrath of an Eleanor scorned? Fuck no.” 

“No,” he says softly. “What Blair and Dan did.”

“Elope in Paris?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” he qualifies with a tilt of his head. “But I was thinking…just – marriage in general.”

“Oh,” Jenny says bluntly. 

Nate nods, his normally open expression cautious. 

Jenny sits back, thinking it over.  When Nate asks a serious question, she knows it comes after a long time of thought, always seeking an honest answer, so she tries to give him the same level of consideration. 

She’s not a believer in forever like her brother is. She’s so like their dad in so many ways, but in this one, she is her mother’s child. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. Maybe later. Way, way later, but not now.”

Nate nods, understanding. “I don’t think I am either.”

She lets out a breath.  

“So…” he trails off, “glad we’re on the same page?” 

She laughs. “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

She may not believe in forever, but if she had to draw it, it would look a lot like Nate. 

“And, who knows, maybe we can revisit this conversation at a later time, like…when we’re forty.” 

Nate grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. “Sounds good to me.”

One word prompts

[luck-of-the-drawings]

IMAGINE. working at ur stupid uhhh job or whatever. pulling into your drive way and ready to work on some crazy project in your garage. opening the door to the most unfamiliar silence. did your wife and kid leave for something? could you imagine knocking on your kids door, hardly getting an answer, and opening it to find the splattered remains of your wife across his room your child is scared! hes hardly consolable, in a state of shock and terror. you are too, but youre the adult here. you need to take charge. you need to protect him. you need to do something. you need to do something.

[existentiol]

something that pisses me off in RA is that Flanagan will occasionally hype up Pauline as this super important and prominent figure in Will’s life, even treat her as a proxy for the mother he never knew, and yet will just refuse to show it beyond the like. two or three (personal) conversations that they have in canon. I get that he was attempting to make her an important person in Will’s life but why not do that by actually making her an important person in Will’s life

[m1d-45]

…was birthed chalk

summary: any smith that discards a perfectly good blade holds no amount of power over the craft. perhaps it’s better, then, that the sword is passed onto one who knows better.

word count: 6.1k (good lord-)

-> warnings: spoilers for albedo lore, rhinedottir is Awful and albedo has a small crisis over it.. a metaphor that may or may not make sense only bc i was the one that wrote it

-> gn reader (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily || @dedef7890

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

when albedo wakes up, the sun has long since risen.

it’s not a surprise, as he stayed up rather late simply thinking, but it was inconvenient.

he sighed and reached for his nightstand, tying up his hair just enough to go through the motions of the morning. it was a fast, familiar, memorized pattern, quickly waking him up and getting him ready for the day. he rushed a little bit, knowing he’d woken later and rhine was expecting an explanation, but he still exited his room with hardly a yawn, moving for the kitchen. maybe he could indulge a bit, have something sweet- to wake him up, of course, and drain the remnants of sleep from him.

he barely had the chance to step over the threshold before rhine’s door opened and she walked out, bag over one shoulder and a folder in the other. she looked over at him, eyes sweeping over his clothes.

“what are you dressed like that for?”

he glanced down at himself. he wasn’t wearing anything stained or torn, and was practically identical to what he’d worn yesterday. a white shirt and pants, thick enough nothing spilled would quickly reach his skin but thin enough that it wasn’t a hassle if they needed to be disposed of. the same things he always wore.

“what’s the issue, master? is there a fault in my clothing?”

her face twisted like he’d said the sky had turned red. “didn’t i say you were coming with me today? that’s not exactly fit for snow.”

the room suddenly turned into a vacuum, all of the air leaving albedo’s chest even as he took a breath. go with her? where? when had she said so? he would have certainly used the time from yesterday to prepare if she had told him.

“stop staring and change. quickly.”

her words snapped him out of his haze and he nodded, a mumble of ‘right away, master’ clumsily pushed out of his mouth as he rushed by.

what did he wear? he rarely went on trips outside of the lab, and when he did it was never far enough to warrant much more than a simple coat. and where were they going? was it going to be cold? hot? dangerous? would he need to be able to move quickly?

albedo felt like his body was moving on its own, stripping off his shirt and pulling on another before he could make the conscious decision to do so. the flimsy band he used to tie up his hair fell to the floor but he hardly noticed, simply grabbing the more secure one for lab work and wrapping it around his wrist as he continued to change.

he wasn’t sure how, but he eventually made it out of his room in a cohesive outfit, a jacket thrown over his arm. when rhine looked him over again, she couldn’t find a fault, nodding and turning for the door.

albedo fought off a smile.

there was a cold wind outside so he ended up putting on the jacket as they walked, feeling odd about it. it was thick to keep out the chill, but… it was strange to have so much more weight to his movements. similarly, walking in boots instead of simpler shoes felt strange, out of place. he supposed it was simply because he’d never really worn them before, rarely ever venturing out like rhine did…

he followed her through a forest, trying to take in as many details as he could without stopping to sketch. brilliant blue butterflies fluttered on top of yellow flowers, large petals dipping and swaying under the weight. sun streamed through the gaps in the leaves, shifting as the winds rippled through the boughs of oak and pine. it bordered on overwhelming, the sounds of birds he’d never heard distracting him long enough that he nearly tripped over a large root.

rhinedottir huffed, an odd mix of amusement and irritation. “what, you never heard a bird before?”

he tracked a large red one as it hopped across branches, searching for something unseen. “nothing this vibrant… i’ve never been this far from the lab before, master.”

she gave him an odd look. “really? i expected you’d be out and about pretty often.”

he tore his gaze away from the bird to look at her in confusion, but.. she seemed serious. “you told me to practice alchemy, so… i did. i run experiments and rarely leave, only if i’m searching for a substance we’re out of. the farthest i’ve been was only around a five minute walk, to… miss alice called it starsnatch cliff.”

her face twisted at the mention of alice’s name, and she picked up the pace slightly. “don’t talk about her.”

“why? has she done something to upset-“

“just listen to me, alright? don’t.”

the conversation died in an instant, leaving albedo confused once more.

the forest soon broke, the trees dispersing out into a plain, and he looked around, trying to get his bearings. there was a map in the lab but he rarely used it, only ever looking to see if rhine could pick him up a material or another that he needed without going too far out of her way. still, he had a vague memory of it, enough to know the name of the mountain they were approaching.

“is the domain near vindagnyr?”

rhinedottir tensed, her grip on her bag tightening. “it’s called dragonspine.”

the edge to her words shuts down any further questions he had, and he bites his tongue with a nod.

another thing to learn.

they thankfully don’t go deep into the mountain, stopping only on the outskirts. he recognizes the domain they stopped at from the diagram she showed him, the diamond sigils faintly glowing yellow.

he inspected the domain, double checking both the inscription on the bottom and the idea he had to solve it. it seemed like it was feasible, but-

“here.” rhine held out a hand, holding a long sheath. a leather handle stuck out from it, the silver of a guard glittering dangerously, and albedo hesitated before taking it.

“why do i need a sword, master?”

she waved a hand as if it was obvious. “it’s dangerous. now stay here, i’m gonna go find a geo slime.”

“i don’t know how to wield it, are you certain-?”

“if you don’t want it then just leave it behind. it’s useless anyway.”

without any other words, she left, leaving him with a sword he didn’t know how to use.

carefully, he undid the latch and pulled off the sheath, revealing a smooth silver blade. it was simple, with a basic cross guard and a neat edge, but he still felt intimidated by the razor-sharp edge. his specialty was with alchemy, not with blade-work… surely rhine knew that?

albedo flipped the sword over and blinked at the engraving along the center of the blade. wouldn’t it make sense to have it on both sides?

he brought it closer to his face, squinting a bit to make out the words. it was an old sword, evidently, and it showed in the faded marks.

‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

albedo stared.

though the words were blurry and indistinct, he was certain that was what it said. but what did it mean? there it was again, the mention of this ‘creator’, this time on a blade? was it a title, referencing the blacksmith? surely that was what ‘forged’ was there for…

at the sound of footsteps he quickly put the sword back in its sheath, deciding to shelve the thought for later.

rhinedottir came up besides him, chest heaving with effort. one of her hands was carefully cupped, a yellowish slime in her hands. “alright, i’ve got the condensate. whats your idea?”

“the inscription says to take the shortest path and to repeatedly-“

“albedo, the elemental energy in this thing isn’t gonna last.”

ah…. “top right, middle left, bottom left, middle right, bottom right, top left.”

she nodded, walking towards the domain. carefully, she smeared the slime over the sigils in the order he told, each glowing brighter as she went. as every sigil lit up, the path connecting it to the center sigil seeped with energy, flowing down to the middle. when the last of the condensate was pushed into the final sigil, the center one glowed as well, pulsing brightly. with a loud and heavy crack, he domain doors split open, falling inward.

rhinedottir was crouched, wiping the remainder of the slime onto the grass, and she stared at the doors

“you did it.”

warm pride bloomed in albedo’s chest. he had.

he helped her up and she picked up her bag of supplies, but turned to him instead of the door, a stern expression on her face.

“now, albedo, you need to stay close to me, alright? don’t stray off or wander, and if you get lost stay put and shout. domains are dangerous things, and frequently filled with monsters. this one should be empty, but in the case that it isn’t… just don’t go poking around where you shouldn’t.”

he nodded, clutching his sheathed sword a little tighter. a satisfied flicker of a smile crossed rhinedottir’s face before she turned, delving into the domain.

he followed dutifully, making sure to stick to her side. it was hard not to ask to stop and look at a carving on a wall, or an inset of gold upon a door, but the idea of her irritation kept his curiosity at bay. they made their way over mossy and cracked stones, occasionally pushing through creaky, rotten doors or climbing over fallen stone. the air itself felt ancient, important, and he wondered why rhinedottir was searching this one. she want one for history, but surely there wasn’t anything of value here…

they stopped in front of a large door, remarkably intact for the state of the rest of the domain. it was simple, blank, and the only visible mechanism of opening it were the four levers, two on each side.

rhinedottir put her hands on her hips, huffing. “there’s only two of us.”

albedo looked around the room, spotting a large pile of debris and not much else. a plan began to form in his head, a rough draft of possibility, and he wrapped the strap of the sheath around his waist to free his hands. the sword was odd and uncomfortable, but it stayed.

rhine spoke before he could, “any ideas?”

oh.

he cleared his throat, carefully stepping forward to see if she would stop him.

she didn’t.

he approached the lever closest to him, noting the large ball on the end for grip. carefully, he pushed down, surprised to see it gave with little effort. the mechanics were likely rusted and tired, unable to provide the resistance it used to, or maybe the weights had snapped off due to their ropes rotting… whatever the case, it made his job easier.

he let it go, watching it ease back into position, and turned around.

“how heavy is your bag?”

at first, her eyes lit up, but they quickly dimmed. “the angle of the levers is too sharp, it’ll just slide down.”

he shook his head. “no. the levers don’t exert enough force rising up to counter your bag, provided it’s heavy enough. as long as we push it down first, it’ll stay.”

she hesitated, holding the bag tighter, but eventually caved. as she walked over, albedo pushed down the lever again, moving to the other side of it so she could hook her bag on it. her hands hovered around it as he removed his hand, but it held.

a smile spread across her face, and she looked up eagerly. “we need one more.”

albedo turned to the pile of debris and took off his jacket, laying it out on the ground. carefully, he fills it with stone, tying the sleeves together into a handle and carefully hoisting it up. a few rocks slip, but he can tell just by holding it that it’ll work fine.

rhine gets his plan and lowers the lever for him, letting him hang the jacket on it. together, they move to the other side of the door, taking their own levers. creator and creation, in sync, pushing down the levers to a domain.

when the door creaks open, albedo turns to her in joy, delighted at the show of cooperation-

rhinedottir brushes past him, pulling her bag off the lever as she walks past.

the doors begin to slide close and albedo rushes to slip between them, leaving his jacket hanging in his haste, and shivers at the cold in the new room.

it’s dark, more so when the doors shut with a bang. the only light is a pale blue in front of him, the shadow of rhinedottir outlined within it. she’s peering down at something, her bag dropped at her side.

the floor is covered in something dark, something that floats when he kicks at it. he crouched, careful not to touch it, and sees they’re… feathers. thousands and thousands of feathers, littering the floor and walls. they’re large, smooth, as if all the feathers on an impossibly large bird had simply… fallen off.

the sound of a zipper draws his attention, and he looks over, standing. the source of the blue light is gone, the light now white and coming from a headlamp on rhinedottir’s head. she’s zipping up her bag, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “i should have brought you sooner, your skills are a pretty good tool.”

the air went cold.

ice quickly crawled through albedo’s veins, faster than it would naturally just from the chill. an unnatural, frozen mass settled in his stomach, fed the more he turned over rhinedottir’s words in his mind.

she didn’t seem to notice, busying herself with brushing off feathers from a door in the corner, but albedo couldn’t shake it off as easily as she did.

why did it bother him so much?

the walk back to the lab was cold, both because he had left his jacket and because it was nearing nighttime. the lamp on rhine’s head was the only source of light, forcing him to walk behind her and keep his eyes trained on the floor to watch where she stepped. now that it was dark, he could see that something in her bag was glowing, blue light barely edging through the gaps in her zippers. she’s taken something from the domain, but what?

he didn’t notice when they arrived, too lost in his thoughts, only pulled out by the sudden warmth around him. he shut and locked the door and watched as rhine goes through her normal routine. boots off, coat off, bag in hand, and it’s only when she pushes open her door that he takes a step and realizes a problem.

“master?”

she pauses, slight annoyance flashing for a brief moment across her face. “what?”

albedo undoes the loop of the sheath, holding up the sword, but she shakes her head.

“keep it. you’ll need it later.”

without another word, her door closes, the silent click of the lock solidifying the barrier between them.

the next day is wrong.

it’s the only way he can describe it. there’s a tension in the air he can’t quite understand.

he’s cold even under his blanket, and he thinks about putting on his jacket only to remember he doesn’t have it. the floor is cold, and he shivers as he walks to his door.

the fire is out, which explains why the room is so cold, but it still feels empty beyond that. everything is in its place, nothing is overtly missing, but…

albedo grabs a lighter and some tinder, crouching besides the fireplace and relighting it. sparks fly and flame catches, and he stays for a moment to warm up, looking around the room. snow has swept in besides the door, which makes him frown. why would rhine leave again so soon after a discovery?

the fire crackles and pops to life, and he stands, backing away a bit so he doesn’t get burned.

what’s wrong?

why does the room feel so empty?

he turns, intending to check the small table by her door where she sometimes leaves him notes, but his attention catches on his desk.

it’s mostly as it was when they left the day before, with one vital exception: a large and thick book, weighing down two envelopes.

if he had a heart, he had a feeling it cracked.

he feels… a word comes to mind, dread, but he doesn’t understand it, not fully. his breath picks up as he approaches the book, as his shaking hand brushes over the print of his name in his master’s handwriting and he feels cold.

‘albedo,’ it reads. nothing more. nothing less.

his chest feels tight, his mind running rampant as it tries desperately to catalogue, define, and diagnose whatever makes him feel so nervous.

carefully, cautiously, albedo pulls the envelope from beneath the leather bound book, feeling afraid.

he pulls out his stool and sits, mostly so he doesn’t feel as nauseous, and rips open the letter, pulling out the twin sheets of paper inside. its… small. the ‘paragraphs’ are barely a line or two long, yet the handful of sentences feel like they’re being forced into his mind by chisel.

Kreideprinz,

I have found what I have been looking for. Locked within the domain we searched was the Heart of Naberius, and I have no further matters to attend to here.

Go to Mondstadt. Find my old friend, Alice, and give her the recommendation letter. Then, complete your final assignment. Any other projects you were working on prior are now void; consider this to be the only one that matters.

Your final assignment: show me the truth and the meaning of this world.

— Gold

he reads and rereads the words over and over again, but they don’t stick. his hands are shaking, worse now, and something in his chest begins to hurt. he checks the other page but only finds a map, the backs of both papers empty. nothing more. nothing less.

albedo drops the papers, if only to read them without the words shaking, but finds that his sight has begun to blur. he wipes the water from his eyes and tries again, and again, and again to understand what’s written in the letter.

rhinedottir always said that if he didn’t perform well she would simply leave; was this the end result of that? had he failed to keep up with the pace she had silently set? was there some silent cue he was meant to follow, something to direct him to the answers she wanted quicker than he would organically find them? was he meant to be quicker, more efficient, was he meant to find things at such an inhuman pace because he was never truly human to begin with?

‘kreideprinz,’ she says (nothing more, nothing less), pretending as if the title from his ‘childhood’ wasn’t something he had clearly failed to earn if she had left, if he had somehow failed. ‘recommendation letter,’ for an ‘old friend,’ as if she hadn’t stopped talking about her after the incident with klee, never inviting them back no matter how many times albedo subtly hinted alice might be able to help her.

even as he stands, as his mind registers the command of his final assignment, a large portion of his mental space is taken up by the instincts she drilled into him, desperately attempting to make sense of at least something.

maybe it’s hunger, his thoughts nudge, but he’s never had the largest appetite to begin with, and accidentally skipping days of meals while he was focused on a project never made his stomach hurt like it did now. he feels- he doesn’t know how he feels, he could stop and sit and think for a year but never know. the words he’s searching for are out of his reach, blurry, unknown to him even as he feels them all the same. he knows that it’s likely some sort of panic response, the ever-analytical sector of his mind forever chugging away and collecting data on his own feelings, but he doesn’t know why.

why?

he pulled a bag from his closet, blankly running through a checklist his brain pulled from thin air. the book rhinedottir left him was tucked into a pocket, the letter put away while the map stayed out. ‘mondstat,’ she said. he’d heard about it from alice—made sense, he was supposed to go there to see her—but while the name was familiar, he still didn’t know where it was.

he’d packed. nearly all of his belongings were tucked within the bag, save for maybe a few of the early textbooks he studied from simply due to space and weight. still, even as he set it on his desk and stared at the map, reading the names yet not registering the information, he didn’t feel ready.

feel. the word was beginning to lose meaning.

he felt things he didn’t understand and didn’t feel what he thought he should. he wasn’t angry that she left without warning, nor sad at the lack of assignments or the vagueness of the one he did receive. he wasn’t resentful—a word that hardly applied to him anyway—because she had left before she reviewed something he’d submitted to her. he wasn’t anything he knew, and everything he didn’t.

he was just… hollow.

albedo wiped the tears from his eyes and made an effort to read the map, understanding only the location of the lab, the marker designating north, and the city labeled mondstat. he folded the map and put it in his pocket, pulling a lab coat over his shoulders and hefting the bag. the door was cold, the wind outside even colder, and as he stared at the key in his palm, he wondered if it was even worth it to lock the door.

metal twisted within metal.

the chalk prince crumbled.

the first thing albedo noticed about mondstat was that it was tall.

buildings stretched higher than he’d ever seen, walls so tall he had to look up to see the guards patrolling along the top, bows in hand.

the second was that it was an island.

he checked the map rhine left him—and blocked out the part of his mind still documenting the bitterness in the back of his throat, wondering if it was emotion or illness—and upon further inspection, if he squinted.. the blurry lines revealed there was in fact water around the city.

he folded it away. at least he knows he has the right place?

he steps from the treeline where he’d been resting, pulling the familiar weight of his bag i’ve this shoulders and-

“albedo?”

he freezes, barely a foot from the shade of the whispering woods.

he turns, slowly, and sees red within one of the bushes. bright, a hat on top of a red coat, blonde twin tails broken up by specks of grass caught within them. the clover charm on klee’s hat caught the light, shining, and a warm pressure built up in his throat.

familiarity.

“klee.”

he can’t stop the way his voice almost cracks, strained with his journey (he’s alone) and the realization he’s been avoiding (maybe he was meant to be)

she lights up upon recognizing his voice, quickly rushing from the bush to latch herself onto his side. her arms wrap around him, and he tentatively sets one of his on her hat, unsure where to put it.

(her hair reminds him of rhinedottir’s, of the time she spent meticulously washing dust and debris from it after a long journey, of the blades of grass she flicked into the fire as she braided it away, tying it with a bright red ribbon alice had gifted her)

“klee’s so happy to see you! what are you doing here? where’s your mom? are you here to stay? oh, can i show you my new dodoco?”

albedo picked through her questions in his mind, deciding which would be safe ones to answer. “i’m here for your mother, alice. i’m… to deliver a letter to her.”

klee backed away, fitting her thumbs under her backpack straps. “klee can take you to her! i was going back to the city anyways.”

he glanced at the forest. “what were you doing there?”

her face suddenly flushed a bright pink, eyes flashing with what he assumed was embarrassment before she rushed forward, taking him by the hand and walking at a shockingly fast pace for somebody so young. “don’t worry about it!”

albedo had a feeling he should.

nonetheless, he followed, letting her lead up up to and across the bridge. it was empty, an eerie feeling settling over it as he walked. he wasn’t sure why; maybe it was the imposing height of the walls? maybe it was the guards in front of the gate, swords at their sides?

(suddenly, he was aware of the blade hanging at his side that rhinedottir had given him. had she known that would be the last time they met? or had she intended to teach him how to wield it?)

(he’s not sure which is more unbelievable)

the guard on the left brought his hand up in what albedo could only assume was some form of salute, in the process slightly blocking their path. “klee. who is with you?”

“this is albedo! he’s the son of a friend of mama’s, and klee’s friend too!”

the knight scanned him up and down, lingering slightly on his sword.

(would he have the heart to hand it over? would he feel better without a reminder of her, or worse that he’d give it up so easily?)

the guard eventually settled with a second salute, dipping slightly in a half-bow. “mondstat welcomes you, strange yet respectable traveler. please state your identity and purpose; the knight of favonius are here to ensure your safety.”

‘knights of favonius’… the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell why. maybe from one of alice’s tales?

still, he dipped his own head in greeting, partially to stall. ‘identity’…

“i am albedo… disciple of rhinedottir in the study of alchemy. i am here to deliver a letter to alice, klee’s mother.”

klee looked up at him with a pout. “you’re not staying longer? what happened to all the things we were going to do?”

he didn’t remember ever committing to anything prior. “that isn’t my choice, klee. even if i wished to stay, i have nowhere to.”

the knight cleared his throat before the conversation could continue. “according to the knights of favonius handbook, we are to accompany travelers through the city as needed…”

“it’s okay mr. knight! klee knows her way around the city! i can take albedo to mama and then show him around.”

the knights were clearly uneasy about the prospect, likely because of klee’s age, but eventually nodded, moving back to their posts.

“mondstat welcomes you.”

klee quickly pulled him forward again, into the city, a quick ‘thank you!’ thrown over her shoulder that was likely lost in the sea of noise.

mondstat was loud. and full. more people than he’d ever seen in his entire life were gathered in just the simple courtyard she pulled him through, the calls of venders and the orders of customers melding together into an indecipherable mess. he was thankful she took him to the side, up a staircase, if only to get away from the massive crowds.

“mama is at a meeting with the knights right now, which is good! you can bring her your letter and get help from the knights at the same time,” klee explained, slowing down slightly from all the stairs. no wonder the walls were giant: so was the rest of the city.

he tugged her back, slowing to a stop. “klee, i don’t think i’ll need the help of the knights. if alice is in a meeting, then we shouldn’t bother her.”

“who said i was in a meeting?”

klee moved faster than he did, turning towards her mothers voice and running towards her, attaching to her side much in the same way she did to him. the thought pulled the corners of his lips into a smile.

“mama!”

alice laughed, catching her daughter easily. “hello, little clover.” she looked up, shock and recognition pooling in her eyes. “albedo? what are you doing here? is rhinedottir with you?”

his muscles tensed at the mention of her name, the memories of the past week of travel threatening to bubble up. he swallowed them down and hoped his voice wasn’t shaky, “no, but i’m to bring you a letter from her.”

alice’s eyes moved to his shoulders, to the large bag he’d been carrying. “are you staying here?”

“…i don’t know.”

her face twisted with something, and she turned her attention to klee before he could ask.

“clover, could you do me a favor?”

klee stepped back, “of course! what is it?”

“i need to read over albedo’s letter and sort some other things out, okay? while i do that, could you show him around the city? he’s never been here, and i’m sure he’d love for you to help him get his bearings.”

klee nodded, clearly excited, and alice walked around her to him. he pulled the letter from his pocket, but she reached for his bag instead. “let me take this.”

“that’s not necessary, i-“

“-have nowhere to go, albedo. i’ll hold your things while you walk with klee.”

something earnest and soft cradled her words, a care to the way she smiled at him when he caved and handed over his bag. he felt lighter without it.

before he could think about it further, alice was gone and klee had taken his hand in hers again, tugging on it.

“albedo? are you okay? you look upset.”

ah….

he tried for a smile. “i was just thinking about something. where do you want to go first?”

she studied him for a moment, squinting slightly, before apparently coming to a decision.

“we’ll go to the cathedral first. mama always says that if you ask the creator really nicely you’ll sometimes get help with whatever your problem is, and you look like you have a lot of problems!”

there it was again, that title…

she began to walk before he could say anything, taking him up let another flight of stairs. this one was longer, curving, and gave him time to figure out how to phrase what he wanted.

“klee?”

she turned, but didn’t so much as slow, “hm?”

“who’s the creator? you left before you could say last time.”

klee did stop this time, so abruptly he nearly ran into her.

“how do you not know? everybody knows.”

she spoke with a mix of confusion and… something akin to indignation, so strange coming from somebody so young that by the time he registered her words, she had pulled him along again, faster.

“everybody knows,” she mumbled to herself. “everybody. the grand master asks for guidance and captain kaeya for wisdom, mama prays for knowledge and klee asks for inspiration. how do you not know?”

he felt bad, somehow, even though it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. he knew that, he wasn’t a fool, it wasn’t his fault, it was…

(flashes of blonde hair flicker in his mind, the sharp command to ‘try again, and get it right this time’ echoing in his mind. already, it felt like a year ago he last saw her)

(could be truly blame her when his mistakes were his fault?)

klee leads him up to a large building—‘cathedral,’ he remembers—but takes him past the large doors, to the back. at the end, behind it all, was a small park-like space, large stones spaces equally across the space. the stones are carved with words, but she doesn’t let him get closer to read it.

she pointed, and he followed, jumping slightly at what he saw. against the back wall of the cathedral, seeming oddly at rest for being carved of stone, was a large statue. the pedestal it sat on was simple, but littered with offerings, the flowers looking fresh. if he had to guess, it was likely a shrine of sorts, probably to-

“that’s the creator.”

ah. he’d thought as much.

klee sat him down in front of the shrine, beginning to tell a story. it’s simple, one told to children, but it’s gets the message across to him.

the creator was to teyvat what rhinedottir was to him. divine hands shaped the mountains and plains, breathing life into the soil. the very purest form of creation, forming something- forming everything from nothing, the smallest of flowers and largest of trees planted with barely a thought. rivers cut through the earth at will, every blade of grass placed by the hand of the one that made it.

klee told a story of the birth of the universe, of the colors on an invisible pallet that painted the planets and dotted the sky with stars. she sat on stone and fiddled with her dodoco, her voice never wavering as she repeated everything she was told, graciously filling albedo in.

in return, albedo untied the sword at his side, laying it down in front of the shrine. the blade felt uncharacteristically heavy, his hands cold, but he still set it down gently.

it was a lot of information, but he managed, carefully filing everything away as the way he viewed the world slowly changed. it made sense; everything had to come from somewhere, after all.

he looked not at the sheath, but through it, at the inscription along the center. ‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

perhaps he and the blade were more similar than he thought.

no bladesmith made a weapon without a purpose. no alchemist dedicated years to a project only to stop when they reached the final product. nothing was made without being tested, nothing was alive without being taught, no sword was made without an edge.

and yet, somebody had to teach the smith. somebody had to guide their hammer to the stool, their hands along a sharpening stone, trained them in the skills of polishing and oiling. no god created an art without a an artist, and no teacher let their pupil loose without granting them the skills to continue the craft.

no tool existed without intention. no smith existed without their mentor prior, nor without their own student to teach.

rhinedottir may have abandoned him, but his creator never would. they would not let him be set loose without purpose, nor discarded without reason. he could tell, simply by sitting in front of the marble statue, that this was the case.

he could feel it in the wind. in the gentle breeze they guided, sweeping his worth from his shoulders. in the ground beneath him, that never grew uncomfortable. he could sense the subtle presence of the creator, the way the grass seemed to point towards the pedestal of the statue or how the sun seemed a little less harsh back here making it evident. albedo could feel the creator’s intentions as his eyes moved back to the sword, to the reminder of rhine that bore a carved reminder of them, feel the reassurance in the etched words. amidst the sea of confusion surrounding rhinedottir’s disappearance, they had appeared, stretching a hand to pull him out and back ashore, to the banks of stability.

albedo reached back.

they felt warm.

[magicicephoenix]

i need to go pound joey drew into a pulp RIGHT NOW

[littledashdraws]

soleil, daughter of azura

[the-matron-of-ravens]

I just gotta make peace with the fact that I see the relationship between FCG and Dancer VERY differently than the majority of the CR fandom.

But ho boy every time I see a post about how FCG is abusive and Dancer is standing up for herself I just die a little inside

[apricotopera]

so interesting to me that kairi aqua and riku are the only ones that use full barriers and not just blocking....everyone else catch up Now.

[iwasbored777]

Now I feel so bad for everything I said about Serena Joy cuz while she did horrible things and deserved karma I had to rewatch the show several times to understand how she developed Stockholm syndrome before the events of the first episode, believed that her husband truly loves her and that he's her whole world, and I feel bad that I laughed at how Serena didn't realize that she shouldn't be sad that he's dead cuz he couldn't hurt her anymore.

I have like a whole analysis in my head on this, but just for now I'll make it short. She wasn't just a victim of abuse, she suffered from Stockholm syndrome as well and Fred brainwashed her. Only after his death she understood that June wasn't just another woman he cheated on her with but that she was also his victim and that his death was a good thing for her to finally move on with a child that she wanted so much.

[laugtherhyena]

Kizuna comphet lesbian is a headcanon that you'll need to chop off my hands if you wanna take it from me

[woundedheartwithin]

Part of learning and accepting that I have adhd has been mitigating all the things I hate about things I have to do as best I can so that I can actually do them. One of those things has been changing where and how I brush my teeth. One of my biggest issues is that I think it’s fucking gross to brush my teeth in the same room I poop in, so I started brushing my teeth in the kitchen, which also has an added benefit of having a window instead of a mirror. And the best part is, now I can stand there and brush my teeth and watch my neighbor chase his horses all over their pasture because they don’t wanna be caught 😂😂😂

[boxwinebaddie]

what is the CD pet? i remember it being mentioned, but is it a dog?

how very funny you ask, lovie! because...someone a while ago asked me about a cd pet and i said, something like of 'maybe, who knows?'

me. ;)

i know.

skdhslkds

and shortly, you all will too, my darlings! for the sake of surprise and spoilers, i was just keeping the identity of the cd pet in the shadows.

which, speaking of shadows, it is the very first time that the citizens of a now very flooded and fucked up blondie's apartment ( minus marj ) arrive in the foyer of the crimson dawn manwhoresion, which again is this MASSIVE very gloomy and ominous sick-torian mansion with lots of cool glass skull door handles, old creaky floors and creepy portraits on the wall -- art of the dearly, or not so dearly, departed...dep(art) if you will -- except the interior has new electrical running through it so that the boys can still make pizza bagels in the air fryer and play legendary smash tournaments on their uber lux, big bucks, emphasis on big 98" flat screen tv...8k, ofc. ;)

anyways, they make it inside with what little luggage/personal shit they could salvage out of the wreckage of their Literal falling apartment, regrettably like half of kyle's really cool clothes are missing...i wonder if someone has things he can borrow...but ANWAYS AGAIN! when they walk in, jersey kyle sets down curb's carrier and suzie on sort of side table and is like 'holy fuck, i do naught like the feel of this place at all. this shit feels like something out of a horror movie, like i swear to gahd if some shit attacks m--"

aND RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT SOMETHING BODY SLAMS KYLE. like this herculean mass of energy, this strong, dark force runs at him at light speed, and is all over him. kyle is freaking the fuck out like oh my god this is actually a horror movie i am going to die, he screaming very girlish screams smh and then right when he thinks this supernatural monster beast from hell is going to gut him, somewhere off to the side, out of sight, the most threatening, frightening, authoritative and booming voice commands...

"sparky, sientate."

...and who is it, ofc...

but raven of crimson freakin' dawn. <3

who rushes over -- also this is irrelevant but i think he is in this sick colorful emo boy sweater and some ripped skinny jeans, you know, whore couture winter addition, he can be modest, you guys! -- and at the sight of him, this very large dog is immediately placated and ravenstan drops the scary dog training voice and is like "helllooo, sweet boy, mwahmwahmwah. besito besito besiiiiitoooo~ <33 :*"

i love ravenstan so bad, he's litrally so cute and an emo disney prince.

so sparky is just licking stan's face and being so sweet and we realize that sparky did not attack jersey to be vicious he just literally upon first glance liked him so much he wanted to say hi ksadhlsakd. amazing. kyle, however, hates most animals and drool and is a cat person and is like wiping his face with a hankerchief like fml.

and after a second, ravenstan rememeber, oh fuck, Kyle!!! so he immediately looks very worried and is like "i am SO sorry, jersey. he is super sweet, he just gets a little excited, y'know? are you--are you hurt at all? </3 here, take my hand, i'll help you up." all wide eyed

and jersey kyle aka crush era jersey my favorite period of time, is just looking up at raven of crimson dawn like he is a beautiful fake blonde eyeliner wearing apple cinnamon scented angel of death and...do yo know how badly kyle wants to take his hand? literally SO BAD. gay! down horrendous!!! but you know, he is a cold unfeeling husk and he does not like raven of crimson dawn! no way! i'm not dropping my mask in front of all these people, i am a loaded gun, i'm a weapon.

so kyle lifts his hand up like he's gonna take raven's hand and then at the last second, flips him off, rolls his eyes and is like "i've got it, ayshole." to which stan is like visibly disappointed for a second before Switching and shrugging doing the raven voice like 'suit yourself. you know, i like a man that's independent and can take care of himself." ;)

smhhhhh stan stop FLIRTING WITH KYLE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE LITERALLY NOT JERSEY TRYING NOT TO BLUSH LIKE!!! FOULLL!!

so important side note is that sparky is wearing...a pink bandana, ofc. which ofc, also means that he came from big gay al's animal rescue where curb also came from. and...sigh...so this is a small continuity error because i had al pretend not to know who the three people who paid blondie's rent were, but really all he said was that they didn't leave their names and ravenstan's voice sounded like heaven, which doesn't imply he....Doesn't know who he is.

and idk, was perhaps just keeping a secret for him...because raven actually does a fuck ton of volunteer work over there! hot boy shit! he is ofc, dressed like busted ass stan, but alas still v beautiful indeed. i think as a toolshed reference maybe spark got struck or nearly struck by lightning, he also has all that energy haha. stan basically foster failed him and he is ravenstan's emotional support dog and cd house pet, we love you sparky. that also means...drum roll pleaaaasee...

ravenstan knows curb! which is why curb got extremely excited to see him because ravenstan used to take care of him when he was in the animal santuary and stuff. so he quite literally heard stan's voice and was like!!!! aaaa!!! i missed you!!!! so cute omg reunited.

but yeah, they talk about that for a little...small world you know even for a big celebrity...kyle has sort of cute down horrendous gay daydream-y thoughts about how often stan must have come and go unbeknownst to all of them

( which he thinks is impossible because raven of crimson dawn's outfits are so shiny and tiny and scandalous that he has no idea how he could walk down the street without being noticed...but then, he's never actually seen stan look Normal and also...yeah kyle i bet you would be able to spot ravenstan a mile away and not be able to look away you gay ass bitch Stand Up!!!! )

and how cute he probably looks feeding all the lil critters in the pink shirt and like introducing little kids to them...also whether or not he rolls his sleeves up and how good his arms look...GO TO JAAAAAAIL.

but yeah! sparky! <3333 in my unpublished first draft boards i actually made a little section just for sparky.

final note: curb and sparky do hate eachother. they have shelter beef.

enemies to lovers, anyone?

-uncle nina, instigator of drama

[atanx]

I see people bringing up Nishiki slapping Reina so fucking often and I'm so fucking tired of it.

Let's get this out of the way first: was it good of Nishiki to hit Reina? Should he have done it? OF FUCKING COURSE NOT. While violence is the answer to a not negligible amount of problems, here, it WASN'T.

HOWEVER.

People tend to act as though Reina was a poor uwu victim who didn't do anything wrong. So lemme explain the situation here:

1) Nishiki just saw someone he cares about A LOT get sexually assaulted or even raped.

2) Nishiki just brutally killed his boss because of an emotional / trauma reaction to witnessing said assault and was very shaken up by it, having collapsed to his knees when Kiryu arrives.

3) His brother just took the fall for it and will have to go to prison for a very long time.

4) Sawamura disappears from the hospital, leaving Nishiki with most of his support network gone in the blink of a fucking eye.

5) He goes to update Reina on the situation and she starts screaming at him, accusing him of being weak and useless, of failing her by not being able to protect Sawamura and Kiryu.

Great fucking reaction on her part, isn't it? He's just lost two of his siblings at once and she is telling him that it's his fault. Yes, Reina probably didn't mean it like that, but she still says it. And when Nishiki interrogates her on it, she doesn't retract it.

It's not helping that Nishiki's mental stability is already shot to shit because of various pressures, such as an important surgery for Yuko coming up, Kazama's clear favouritism, Kashiwagi's distance.

I reiterate: NISHIKI GETTING VIOLENT WAS BAD. HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT.

And he apparently does slap her quite hard. But he also immediately regrets it, looking at his hand with shock. As someone who not only has a lot more physical strength than Reina and is in organised crime and is thus the stronger party in the power imbalance, it was his responsibility to try and counteract the power imbalance by restraining himself. And he failed at that.

My point is that Reina said what I consider to be unforgivable things, even if she didn't mean them. And she knows this because when Nishiki confronts her, she is scared. She knows she fucked up. Yet she doesn't try to retract her accusations or to reformulate what she feels.

They're both horrible in this interaction and this is why I don't like them as a pairing. Reina clearly is way over her head in the Yakuza world. Which is perfectly fine, not everyone can deal with it, in fact I'd wager that most people can't, yet she both involves herself in it and is involved in it by others. And then she deals with being exposed to the dark sides of the yakuza world by toxically unleashing it, here on Nishiki.

Another thing I don't like is the "he hit a woman because she hurt his feelings he isn't an uwu baby". Oh, so it would have been fine if Reina had been a man? No it wouldn't have. Why bring gender into this? Either say that no one deserves to be hurt or say that everyone deserves to get slapped every once in a while.

Let all genders be slapped and let all genders slap. All or nothing, cmon.

[milflewis]

.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I have been trying for days to find a topic for the "paper" I need to turn in for this Philosophy of History course on Friday, and I got nothing.

I so intensely dislike this subject you cannot imagine.

[bitegore]

god i really forgot that every business management professor specifically is the most unpleasant human being alive for no good reason. i have two business classes with like econ and accounting professors respectively and those look fine and then oh my god if i have to go back to this class with this professor i think i might actually kill myself