thecinderninja

[thecinderninja]

Just Old Enough to be Lost

On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja

The door to Jean’s office swings open with a creak, and Kaeya saunters in, a thick folder tucked under one arm. His usual smirk on his lips as he steps inside without a second thought. “Jean, I’ve got that report you were asking f—”

He freezes mid-step, his words dying in his throat.

There, sprawled on the floor in the middle of Jean’s office, is none other than Barbatos. The Barbatos.

The one that nobody has seen for 500 years. That one.

The Anemo Archon is lying flat on his stomach, legs kicking lazily behind him, wings open and resting on the hardwood, surrounded by a sea of scattered crayon drawings. In his hands is a bright red crayon, and he’s focused intently on what seems to be a picture of a giant windmill.

Kaeya’s brain screeches to a halt.

Jean, who had been seated at her desk, bolts upright, her eyes wide with panic. "Kaeya!" she nearly yelps, rushing toward him with surprising speed. "Why didn’t you knock?!"

The shock of seeing Mondstadt’s Archon doodling on the floor still has Kaeya rooted to the spot. His eye darts between Jean and the casually drawing Barbatos as his mind scrambles to make sense of this absurd scene. 

Words fail him. 

This isn’t… this can’t be real.

Jean reaches him in an instant, grabbing his arm and frantically shoving him toward the door, as if somehow getting him back outside will undo the fact that he’s seen all of this. "Just—just give me a moment," she pleads, her voice strained. “Why didn’t you knock?” She repeats, voice dropping off hopelessly, as if asking enough times will make him go back in time. “Just—go outside,” she presses, clearly flustered. “I’ll pretend this didn’t happen. You’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”

Kaeya, still dumbstruck, allows her to guide him toward the door, his eye not leaving the sight of Barbatos. “I’ll… go back out and knock,” he says dumbly. And then looks away from the Archon on the floor long enough to meet Jean’s eyes, running his mouth off, barely even aware of the words that are leaving his mouth.  “So… the Acting Grandmaster’s office is doubling as a daycare now?” 

Jean gives him a withering look. Before she can respond, there’s a cheerful voice from the floor. 

“Hi, Kaeya!”

Kaeya’s head snaps back toward the source, and he meets the bright green eyes of Venti, who’s sitting up now, still holding his crayon, waving at him with that same familiar stupid grin beaming from that same stupid round face. And Kaeya’s brain—already teetering on the edge of short-circuiting—completely crashes.

“Venti?” he chokes out, his voice strangled.

Jean hurriedly slams the door shut in his face, her hands gripping the doorknob. There’s a tense silence as Kaeya stands there, staring at the now-closed door, trying to reconcile what he’s just witnessed.

After a beat, he raises a hand and knocks on it.

From inside, he hears Jean groan.

[thecinderninja]

This drives me insane because of just how obvious it is how willfully ignorant they are. One of my favourites to this day is someone online repeatedly and aggresivley telling me to go to therapy, and them just refusing to believe me that actually, yes, I've been in therapy for 14 years and the things I am telling you are directly from my therapist. Who is a professional. The things you are telling me are "insane behaviour" that I need "therapy for" are actually the healthy coping methods my therapist reccomended.

Unrelated to DID, it's genuinely crazy to me how many therapist endorsed healthy coping methods are villainized on the internet and how many people who have never been to therapy insist that you need to go..... because they hate to see you doing the things you learned in therapy, and refuse to believe that any professional would tell you to do that.

On the ficitonal character introject point: I'm also not an expert and won't speak on this extensively, but I have no idea WHERE that idea (of it being fake) ever even came from in the first place??? It is objectively, just super common. Fictional introjects vs "original" splits are not more or less common then each other. They're both just .... normal. Though I will say that fictional introjects are particularly common among adhd, autistic, and audhd systems. So I guess fakeclaiming introject heavy/exclusive systems is doubly ableist?

The discourse over 'treating them as different people' drives me insane because at the end of the day, it does not matter. For some people, treating them as individual parts of a whole is the healthiest option. For others, treating them as individuals is healthier and more productive. Also, plenty of people with systems feel it affects them in spiritual ways, and calling systems delusional or accusing them of being crazy is frustrating because they are allowed to hold beliefs as much as anyone else on this planet. ANY religion on this planet involves believing in things unseen, unprovable by science, that offer spiritual comfort, or at least a basis for how you view and interact with the world. Allow systems the same right? You aren't the one experiencing their multiplicity. It isn't my (or anyone elses right) to tell a person what they are or are not, who they are or are not, and how their multiplicty works. Especially since we absolutely DO NOT understand the human mind or identity enough to actually even conclusively say that they AREN'T multiple 'people.'

Personhood is a social construct as much as gender is. Are they objectively and literally multiple physical beings? Obviously not. But identity, personhood, and self are all concepts. And developing that sense of identity, personhood, and self is the exact stage of human development which is disrupted in the formation of DID. So for all intents and purposes, the way you identify as a single person and would likely fight if someone tried to tell you that your experiences count for nothing and you 'do not exist' because they disagree with your way of identifying, is the exact same way in which alters identify.

Ask yourself right now, do you feel like a Person? Are you Real? Are you Yourself? Would you be angry if someone tried to tell you that you are not i) a person, ii) real, iii) yourself? Because the crazy thing about dissociative IDENTITY disorder, previously misnomed as "multiple personality disorder", is that is presents both outside AND INWARDLY, as having multiple, idependant, senses of self. There is no defining which independant self is "true", "original", or "correct." Humans aren't static, so there likely is no real or true "original" or "core." Those concepts are old and while they apply to some systems, they do NOT apply to all.

So yes. If YOU identify as an individual, then it's only fair and reasonable to expect systems to identify as multiple independant individuals. Because that is HOW THEY EXPERIENCE LIFE. And you have no right to tell them otherwise unless you are ready and willing to accept that you yourself are also not an individual person.

Personhood, identity, and self are all concepts created within the brain. You cannot take that away from someone. If an alter says to you, "I think, therefore I am", you can't look them in the eyes and say "no, because I said so." "No, because I don't believe in you."

If a person tells you "this is my name, this is who I am, I exist," WHO in their right mind has the right to say "no you don't." If you can argue their existence with them, and if they can defend their sense of self, then it clearly exists.

And also, frankly, it's none of your business.

Anyway the point about self-awareness is also just stupid because very very few systems have complete amnesia 100% of the time. Once again it's just a comment born from inexperience and ignorance. But to be perfectly honest, the majority of fake-claiming stems from inexperience and (often willful or intentional) ignorance.

Also, fakeclaiming whatsoever is inherent ableism. Sometimes people are correct, yes, but the action of fakeclaiming is always inherently ableist and very rarely helpful to the community.

People point to the very few rare instances where fakeclaiming exposed a personal who was intentionally manipulating the community, but we never discuss the vastly more common instances of individuals with severe mental illness being bullied off the internet or even driven to more permanent and severe harm, and refused any actual help or resources that they need. And the people who do that bullying then tout themselves as paragons of moral superiority. You aren't saving or protecting anyone, you are bullying the mentally ill.

Because the vast majority of the time, even the people who you're 'correct' about aren't faking. They are authentically struggling with mental illness and they lack the resources, support systems and information to receive a correct diagnosis. They are trying to understand their symptoms and struggles, they are trying to contextualize what they are going through. And if they get it wrong, they are bullied and harassed and threatened.

And the people who are doing that deciding are simultaneously the ones spreading misinformation, and fake-claiming people who DO have the disorders they claim to have, making it even harder for people who are struggling to find the help and communities that they need.

Fake claiming has always been, and will always be, ableist.

Concerned about Disorder Fakers(TM)? Here's how to identify one, brought to you by fake disorder spaces online!

They're cringe. The cringier they are the faker they are, especially if the condition is severe, because those are notorious for making people act normally in public.

They have any misconceptions about their condition whatsoever. Actually being diagnosed automatically makes you a specialist and therefore immune to misinformation.

They don't publically perform the constant agony, self-loathing, and/or severe dysfunction that anyone with a disorder lives with for their entire life. Actually, it's suspicious that they're open about it at all. If they were genuine they'd treat it like a shameful secret and never try to find silver linings or community.

There's a rampant problem with social media. Circlejerks of unqualified strangers spread misinformation about disorders, leading to impressionable people misdiagnosing themselves in harmful ways. Undiagnosing someone with a disorder, however, requires zero qualifications and only a single cropped screenshot to accomplish.

Join me in protecting the community! Attack random teenagers today!

[thecinderninja]

have you lot heard about the tiktoker who’s taking on the actual government over a parking ticket? because she’s a hero

[thecinderninja]

Concerned about Disorder Fakers(TM)? Here's how to identify one, brought to you by fake disorder spaces online!

They're cringe. The cringier they are the faker they are, especially if the condition is severe, because those are notorious for making people act normally in public.

They have any misconceptions about their condition whatsoever. Actually being diagnosed automatically makes you a specialist and therefore immune to misinformation.

They don't publically perform the constant agony, self-loathing, and/or severe dysfunction that anyone with a disorder lives with for their entire life. Actually, it's suspicious that they're open about it at all. If they were genuine they'd treat it like a shameful secret and never try to find silver linings or community.

There's a rampant problem with social media. Circlejerks of unqualified strangers spread misinformation about disorders, leading to impressionable people misdiagnosing themselves in harmful ways. Undiagnosing someone with a disorder, however, requires zero qualifications and only a single cropped screenshot to accomplish.

Join me in protecting the community! Attack random teenagers today!

[thecinderninja]

this is just how I thought letters worked as a kid.

fun fact about me is that when i was a kid id write capital E’s with as many of those little horizontal lines as possible and id call them ladder E’s and adults fucking hated them

[thecinderninja]

"The timeline for Bennett's parents dying in the Mare Jivari doesn't match up."

The Mare Jivari doesn't exist on the timeline. Venti blew it off. It exists in every moment simultaneously, making it non-linear.

On the side of the timeline, Bennett's parents and the adventurers that found Bennett entered the Mare Jivari at different times. But on the Mare Jivari side, these entries happened simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how long ago Bennett's parents died relative to his age, because his age is determined by the point in time the adventurers that found him entered and exited the Mare Jivari, not when his parents did. If a different set of adventurers from a different point in time had found him, he would be a different age.

That's why it's possible that Bennett's parents died a long time ago (linearly speaking) but he's still a teenager. The real question is how the adventurers that found him got into the Mare Jivari, given that by the time they made their entry Venti would have already blown it away and made it 'disappear'.

[thecinderninja]

statements like "It's wrong to masturbate about a person without their consent" and "It's wrong to do something that quietly arouses you while you are in public even if no one can see it" show that a person's understanding of morality basically involves magical thinking. like I wrote this post on the toilet. That's not the same thing as me literally shitting on you

[thecinderninja]

According to Know Your Meme, on August 18th, 2005, Erwin Beekveld brought forth this work into the world. HAPPY TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY, THEY’RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD.

[thecinderninja]

The United States — ALL of it

[thecinderninja]

My bestie @denebkaggie made this for me. It is inspired by this fanfic https://archiveofourown.org/works/67222825 it’s very good highly recommend. Can you find all the stupid silly little hidden message

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67222825

[thecinderninja]

something to remember is that writing is hard. and I don't necessarily mean in terms of writers block or trying to solve plot holes etc (although that's part of it), but as in it's hard work. even when writing is going well, you're spending a lot of mental energy on it – on deciding which words to use and in what order, remembering how to spell those words, figuring out if character dialogue sounds good, remembering the things that happened around the bit you're currently writing + what you want to happen next, checking plot notes, remembering your established canon, holding different subplots in your head.... that's like having a whole bunch of programs running simultaneously on a computer, and even the best computer with high end specs can't run like that forever. so if you ever catch yourself thinking "man all I did was write/revise/edit. why am I so tired?" that is your answer. because your brain has been running multiple processes and it needs a break

[thecinderninja]

Wind and Stone [pt 2/2]

Part 1 On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja As time stretches on, Albedo notices Venti withdrawing further into himself, dimming with each passing moment. Albedo feels a growing conviction that they are running out of time. It’s an off thought, one without much reason or logic behind it. He knows he could remain here fairly indefinitely, and he has reason to believe Venti is the same.

But…

It would be, apparently, incorrect to assume that his only concern was their physical health. Venti might survive down here with him long enough for Albedo to think of a practical solution, but… 

"Venti," Albedo says softly, breaking the suffocating silence again. “Talk to me.”

Venti's response is a hollow laugh. "We're stuck under a mountain, Albedo. There's nothing to talk about."

"Sing," Albedo suggests, grasping at straws. "Sing something, anything. It doesn't matter. Just... distract yourself for a moment."

"I don't think I can, right now." Venti admits, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then tell me a story.”

Venti hesitates, but eventually he speaks. His voice trembles against Albedo’s collarbone as he tries to weave his thoughts together into something coherent. He falters halfway through his story. “I can’t move.”

“I know.”

"Have you thought of anything yet?" Less than useless , he thinks to himself again. An archon of all things. He’d levelled mountains before. But it was one thing to do from above, and another from below . 

Without his gnosis, without a single errant breeze, without any connection to his element, and with no idea how far the stone stretched in any direction. He feels like he’s drowning in tar. He feels like his hands, wings, eyes, have all been removed. He feels small and afraid and powerless in a way he hasn’t for five centuries.

"Not yet. But I will. I promise."

The bard swallows hard. "Albedo... do you need to eat?"

Albedo hesitates at the suddenness of the question. He frowns in the darkness. "No, I don't. But if I go long enough without food, I will eventually lose the energy to remain conscious."

Venti's voice hitches. "So we're on a time limit."

"No,” Albedo amends quickly. “It's not like that. It would take a significant amount of time before I reach that point. We have time, Venti."

Venti's voice is barely a whisper. "I don't need it. I'll exist indefinitely. I could disembody, but���” he doesn’t want to. He would still be trapped. As a human, at least he can feel Albedo’s heartbeat. At least he can grip his jacket. At least he has something tangible to hold onto. At least he can speak . Disembodying wouldn’t free him.

It would leave an empty space for the mountain to collapse a second time, crushing Albedo further. Filling in every last inch of empty air. He didn’t know what would happen to him as a wind spirit under a thousand tonnes of stone with no way out and no way left to interact with the world.

It would also leave Albedo effectively alone.

The thought clearly terrifies him. They're trapped under a mountain, two immortal beings who don't need to eat or breathe, who can't move an inch, buried under tons of rock. Eventually, Albedo will lose enough energy to become unresponsive, and Venti will be entirely alone. Or Venti will lose his mind and become unresponsive, and Albedo will be alone. Alone and trapped and unable to so much as wriggle, for a possible eternity.

"Venti," Albedo calls softly, seeing the panic overtaking his friend's face again. "Give me time. I can solve this.”

.

Days pass. Days without moving. Albedo has a perfect sense of time. Venti should , but he chooses not to. Not right now. He alternates between out-of-body experience and far too in-body , grounded and trapped and tethered and entirely physical in a way that he's never hated before now. He alternates between turning his mind off and letting time slip past him, not wanting to track it’s passage, and forcing himself to speak.

At first, he thinks, it was distracting to Albedo. Now he thinks it’s reassuring. Albedo doesn’t want to be alone any more than he does, so he tries to lose himself less. That means talking more, singing rarely, when he can, and crying often. 

It’s difficult and awkward and entirely involuntary. His chest can’t heave, he isn’t breathing anyway, and what feels like they want to be sobs turn into wet tears and dry noises. 

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Venti rasps, voice raw.

Albedo's response is a quiet murmur. "I can feel the mountain settling."

Venti's heart sinks even further. The mountain presses in on them, filling every crevice, every empty space, until there is nothing left in between. Venti shudders, the weight of the rocks pressing in on him. Something in his chest creaks as the weight grows.

“I have an idea.” Albedo says, unexpectedly. “But I have to wait for the mountain to stop shifting. I need you to wait a little longer.”

Venti’s voice cracks painfully against Albedo’s chest. "Okay."

.

More days pass. The silence between them is punctuated only by Venti’s occasional whimpers of distress and Albedo’s quiet reassurances that he has a plan.

"Venti," Albedo speaks, breaking the suffocating silence. "I've been keeping track of the movement of the stones this whole time. I think I've gotten a feel for how they want to settle."

Venti shifts slightly, the most movement he’s been able to manage. "What do you mean?"

"I believe I can safely clear us some space now. But I can't make any guarantees. Any attempt to move could make our situation worse. I want you to know that before I try anything."

Venti's response is immediate and fervent. "Do it, Albedo. Please. It can't get worse than this. If you think you can do anything, then you should do it."

“Very well. I'm going to use my Vision. Stay still and try to remain calm." 

With a determined expression, Albedo closes his eyes and focuses on the ambient Geo energy surrounding them. It has been a long time since he fine tuned his Solar Isotoma, and he rarely channels Geo without it. There’s no space to form one here, and his goals are more ambitious than that anyway. 

He begins to channel it, feeling the stones around them with an acute sensitivity. Slowly, carefully, he starts to manipulate the rock, reshaping it and molding it together into a small dome around them. The process is slow and painstaking, every movement measured. It’s a level of control few Vision wielders ever actually achieve, and one that even Albedo has rarely needed to use.

After what feels like an eternity, the space around them begins to open up. It's not much, but it's enough for them to sit up. Venti feels the pressure around him lessen and, with a groan of effort, he pushes himself off of Albedo and rolls onto his back. He tries to take a deep breath out of instinct, but ends up choking on the heavy, dusty carbon dioxide. He doesn’t need oxygen, but he’s definitely gotten used to it.

Albedo sits up slowly, wincing as he checks himself over for injuries. "Most of my bones are broken," he observes. "But since no material was lost, I can fix that easily enough with alchemy."

Venti nods weakly, taking stock of his own crush injuries. “Yup… me too, but I won't be able to heal myself down here."

For a moment, the newfound space is filled with nothing but the sounds of his laboured breaths. Albedo isn’t bothering to breathe at all, but Venti needs to feel the familiar comfort of it, even if all he’s doing is circulating stale air through his body.

Venti leans back against the wall, tears streaming down his face. This time, they are tears of relief, the simple act of being able to move bringing an overwhelming sense of gratitude. "Albedo... can you do that again? Can you get us out?"

Albedo is already nodding. This was ultimately the only solution he could come up with. It would be time consuming, painstaking, and possibly take more energy than he was sure he had to give. "It should be possible. But it will take time. I need to move small pieces at a time to make sure nothing more will collapse. But yes, we should be able to get out this way."

Venti's relief is thick and as cloying as the air. He sags, completely unashamed as he cycles between crying, scrubbing at his face, and tipping his head against the wall and giggling. "Thank you, Albedo. Thank you, thank you. And... I'm sorry for being totally useless."

Albedo shakes his head, brushing off the apology. "It's not your fault, Venti. Underground is one of the worst places for an Anemo user to be, yet you came anyway. You don't need to be useful at all times."

Venti smiles and manages to stop crying for long enough to sit up and start wiping away at the tears on his face. His skin and clothing are both covered in dust and grit. Combined with the wetness on his face, it just results in muddy smears across his cheeks and sleeves.

His clothes are probably never going to recover from this. The white shirt, at least, is never going to be white again. “Thank you, Albedo. I know I’ve said it a dozen times but, thank you . I would not be okay right now if I was alone…”

Albedo isn’t sure how to respond to that. He’s pretty sure ‘I know’ would come across as rude, so he simply nods. 

His injuries are painful and inconvenient, and easily fixable. But Albedo has no idea how long it’s going to take him to get them out of here, and he doubts he’ll have the energy to spare, so he opts to ignore them for now. They can be dealt with easily enough once they’re above ground again. For now, he simply leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Beside him, Venti does the same.

After the brief rest, Albedo begins the painstaking process of manipulating the stone around them, inch by inch, carefully creating a path to freedom. It’s time consuming, taxing, and there isn’t much progress to show for it.

Hours pass in a monotonous rhythm, punctuated by the sound of shifting stone. Albedo has to move slowly, with precision, moving small pieces of Geo at a time. Any rush could result in a misstep, and any misstep could bring the ceiling back down on them again. In between each effort, he takes a short rest, feeling the mountain, ensuring that the cavern's stability isn't compromised.

The sheer scale of the task is immense. Albedo is reshaping a mountain, a Herculean feat that requires precision and an enormous amount of Geo manipulation. Despite doing it in intervals, he's using a massive amount of power. 

To Venti, Albedo appears no different now than he does at any other time – composed, focused, unwavering. But then, without warning, Albedo swoons, catching himself on the wall, his vision narrowing and darkening.

"Albedo!" Venti exclaims, his voice tinged with alarm.

Albedo's voice is steady but strained. "I can't keep going like this," he murmurs, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "I need to rest for a bit. Just a short rest..."

Venti eyes him with concern. "You've been pushing yourself too hard for my sake, haven't you?" he asks softly, guilt washing over him.

Albedo, never quite understanding the point of lying about trivial interpersonal matters, nods weakly as Venti tuts at him. He lays down on his side, his body almost immediately succumbing to the fatigue. He falls asleep instantly, leaving Venti alone in the dark tunnel. The faint glow of their Visions provides the only illumination, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Even fainter is the soft light emanating from Venti's braids, always there, and only barely visible because of the absolute darkness surrounding them.

Venti sits back against the wall, staring into the oppressive blackness around them. He can't help but feel a bit responsible for Albedo's condition. The alchemist had been pushing himself beyond his limits, all for the sake of getting them out of this nightmare.

A nightmare which, also, come to think of it, is entirely Venti’s fault. Albedo told him not to use Anemo, had explicitly said that the tunnel was unstable.

But what was Venti supposed to do? Let Albedo get - come to think of it, yes. Albedo was durable. Albedo probably could have taken a few more hits, even unconscious. Venti could have just finished off the hilichurl with a regular old arrow, and then waited for Albedo to wake up, and then the two of them could have walked back out together.

This whole thing would have been resolved days ago, with a lot less crying from Venti, and a lot less effort from Albedo.

Albedo had probably already figured that out.

Venti buries his face in his hands. If the situation wasn’t so horrible , he’d already be laughing at his own stupidity and how he panicked for no good reason. 

Time stretches endlessly, each second feeling longer than the last. Venti shifts uncomfortably, once again reminded of his many, many broken bones. He glances, grimacing, at the still sleeping Albedo. 

He’s lucky. Lucky it was him and Albedo. If he’d knocked a mountain on top of anyone else, he would have killed them. That still hasn’t fully settled in his mind. He knocked a mountain on top of Albedo. Well, and himself. They were trapped, crushed, for days. They were still trapped, and only making any progress because of Albedo.

When Venti called himself ‘less than useless’, he hadn’t meant it literally, but he shudders now, recalling those words. He wasn’t just useless in solving this problem. He caused this problem.

At least most of the problems he caused were usually on purpose. This one… not so much. 

He cannot believe he dropped a mountain on someone.

Hours pass in this manner, Venti's mind wandering this way and that. He’s still uncomfortable, anxious, desperate to get out of here and into the fresh air and sun again, to throw himself into the first patch of grass he sees and never take the wind for granted again, but it’s calmed down significantly since Albedo started carving his way through the mountain.

There’s hope now, and that’s enough to keep Venti from anymore crying.

Eventually, Albedo stirs, his eyes fluttering open.

"Albedo," Venti says, relief flooding his voice. "How are you feeling?"

Albedo pushes himself up slowly, wincing slightly. "Better," he replies, though his voice is still tinged with exhaustion. "I can continue now."

Venti creeps closer, placing a gentle hand on Albedo's shoulder. "Don't push yourself too hard. We need you to be okay. I need you to be okay-” He cuts himself off, frowning at how selfish that sounds. “I don’t mean, not because I need you to get out, I do, but- that’s not why I want you to be okay. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. It’s okay if we take a little longer to get out.”

Albedo watches Venti ramble, not interrupting. Venti is so distracted that he doesn’t even realize he’s earned one of Albedo’s rare smiles, though it seems to be because the alchemist is laughing internally at his expense. "I'll be careful," he promises. 

He resumes his work, but this time at a slower pace, taking more frequent breaks. The progress is slow, but they are moving forward, inch by painstaking inch.

The tunnel around them gradually widens. Albedo rests a hand on the wall, and stands still for a brief moment, which stretches into a much longer moment. He sags slightly, his head tipping forward until his forehead rests on the wall as well.

Venti follows behind him, as unhelpful as always, and reaches forward when he sees Albedo sag. A hand on his shoulder, worry in his eyes. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t want to see Albedo faint again.

To his surprise, Albedo stands straighter and turns to look at the bard, a satisfied smile on his face. “I’m fine. We are about to reconnect with the original tunnels. They never collapsed all the way. From here, it should be a short walk back to the surface.”

Venti stares at his face for a moment, actually needing a minute to process his words. He hears them, he understands them, but he can’t make sense of them. They’ve been underground for so long now - days, days upon days. More than a week has passed, and Venti can’t quite believe that freedom is just on the other side of this wall.

He finds the world spinning, and hands catch him as his knees buckle. It seems it’s his turn to swoon, dizzy from the headrush. He quickly rights himself, though. There’s no time for fainting when the way out is right there!

The next time Albedo’s Vision lights up, the wall in front of them collapses outwards, spilling into a tunnel. There’s light again. Light from the quartz, from the moss, and most tellingly, the warm glow of sunlight spilling in from not too far away.

More important than any of that, Venti can breathe . His whole body comes alive. He can feel the air, real air. The breeze from outside beckons and his feet are moving before he can spare a single thought towards what he’s doing. He pushes past Albedo and runs for the exit.

Albedo follows. Not quite as fast, staggering slightly. Now that the urgency is gone, the need to keep up, stay awake, keep moving, the knowledge that he was the only one who could get them out, his exhaustion catches up to him.

He reaches the exit of the tunnel, in time to see Venti hurl himself face first into a snow drift. Giggling, giddy, arms outstretched above him.

Leaning heavily on the entrance, a hand braced against the stone, Albedo sees for the first time in full (fading, golden orange) sunlight just how terrible they both look. Venti is covered in a fine layer of dust, his face and clothing streaked with the coppery browns and reds of mud and so much blood.

Albedo probably only looks slightly better, and even then, only because he doesn’t bleed the same way Venti does.

They both look like corpses.

If they’d been anyone else, they would be corpses.

The fatigue hits him slowly as he stumbles outside towards Venti. His legs fold beneath him, dropping him cross legged in a move that looks at least mostly intentional, beside the bard.

He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, relishing the wind on his face.

[thecinderninja]

Wind and Stone [pt 1/2]

On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja

Wind whips and howls and snow falls in vicious sheets and the peak of Dragonspine is buried under the weight of snow and storm and ancient permafrost. Ice lashes at Venti’s cheeks, snow heavy on his eyelashes, as he stands on a ridge. In his hands a lyre, played by hands that should, by all accounts, be numb and frostbitten. The sound shouldn’t carry through the broken howling of the wind, but somehow, it does.

Despite the air screaming between the strings, the simple melody stands out.

He does not - has never - loved the cold, but there’s more than just ice up on Dragonspine which makes the trip worth it:

Albedo stands a short distance away, brush in hand, capturing the shades of the storm on his canvas. He and his easel are grounded in a way that escapes explanation, sturdy despite the storm trying with all of its might to lift them up or throw them down.

His expression is softened, his focus solely on his painting. As the last rays of sunlight fade, the temperature plummets even further, and Albedo sets down his brush, the painting nearly complete, but still unfinished.

Venti side eyes the alchemist as Albedo folds his easel and gathers his supplies, shivering unabashedly. "Ah, the chill bites deeper than a Frostarm Lawachurl! My poor, delicate fingers!"

Albedo glances at him. "You didn't bring any cold weather gear." His tone pitches up just enough to leave his words sitting on the precarious thread between question and statement.

Venti wraps his arms around himself, hopping from foot to foot. "Gear? Who needs gear?”

“You, apparently.” Albedo responds. He stares, wondering what Venti’s plan was. Did he really come up here with no regard for the weather? His gaze shifts to the rapidly darkening sky and the snow beginning to fall more heavily. The descent back down the mountain would be treacherous at this hour, and he doubts Venti’s ability to manage the long walk back down.

Venti looks at Albedo with wide, pleading eyes. He looks like a bedraggled little animal, entirely pathetic. "This mountain really doesn't agree with me... So cold... so very, very cold..."

Albedo studies him for a moment longer, then nods to himself. He understands now; Venti has no plan beyond relying on Albedo’s hospitality. "It’s getting rather cold," he says, his voice measured. "Would you care to join me in my lab? I have some hot food, and it’s more sheltered than out here."

Venti’s eyes light up immediately, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I thought you’d never ask! Lead the way, my friend."

Albedo’s steps falter momentarily, his brow furrowing. 

My friend. 

The word lingers, fitting strangely in Albedo’s mental lexicon. He maintains very few friendships. Most of them are the results of prolonged time spent alongside coworkers, such as Sucrose or the Knights of Favonius. These are bonds formed more out of necessity than choice - not that he begrudges a single one of them. Relationships in which he merely exists, and those who are forced to share space with him are occasionally kind. His other close relationship is with Klee—a child, unconditionally welcoming to everyone she meets, and also his sister. 

There’s the Traveller, too, who he occasionally bothers, and who seems inclined to tolerate him when they are around, but they are rarely in Mondstadt and never stay for long.

He does not seek people out, and people do not seek him out. This is how it has always been. A fact. Reliable, easy, unchanging.

He understands that Venti wants to keep an eye on him, but there isn't really anything to explain why Venti goes out of his way to "spend time" with him, or call him a friend. They have almost nothing in common. They don't share similar social circles... the bard has to go out of his way to hang around on this barren, freezing cold mountain, and Albedo doesn't really get it.

Albedo glances at Venti, who is shivering dramatically, his eyes still twinkling despite the cold. The bard seems genuinely pleased, excited, about the prospect of spending more time together. It’s a level of enthusiasm that baffles Albedo.

“Are you alright?” Venti catches him staring.

"My lab isn’t the warmest or the most comfortable place.” Albedo responds flatly, looking back to the path. He doesn’t look at the bard again as he leads the way through the snow. Neither one of them is particularly tall, which results in a lot of trudging through snow that comes nearly to their knees. 

"Anything is better than staying out here," Venti assures him, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "And I’m looking forward to that hot food you mentioned."

Albedo shakes his head, nonplussed. "Stay close. The path can be tricky in the dark, especially with the snow."

Venti bounces on his toes, falling into step beside Albedo. "You’re a lifesaver, you know that?" he chatters, his usual cheerfulness returning now that warmth and shelter are in sight. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t invited me."

"You would’ve frozen," Albedo replies blandly.

.

Venti’s lack of sleeping gear - or any gear, for that matter - is remedied easily enough by Albedo drawing him a bedroll, and that in itself is a curiosity novel enough to steal the bard’s attention for most of the evening. 

He hovers over Albedo as he draws, as he cooks, and as he does just about anything else, asking a constant stream of questions. The questions are genuine enough, and Albedo has plenty of patience for heartfelt curiosity, so he spends his breath answering Venti’s questions to the best of his ability.

It is obvious that most of what he is saying goes completely over the bard’s head. He has absolutely zero understanding of even the most basic concepts of alchemy, which are somewhat necessary in order to understand any of what Albedo does. Cornerstones of knowledge, if you will.

Even so, his interest is more than polite inquiry. His eyes don’t glaze over when Albedo loses himself in a complex explanation of an even more complex theory. "...and so, by applying the principles of transmutation, one can alter the molecular structure of cryo crystals. This process involves the use of alchemical reactions, in place of elemental. Normally, it would be done with a cryo vision, but seeing as I lack one, I had to get creative. As a result, I discovered that my alchemical method actually results in a far more stable end product. The key lies in the differential resonance frequencies of ley lines, which..."

Venti nods along, his eyes fixed on Albedo.

"By understanding the resonance frequencies, we can manipulate the atomic lattice of the crystals. Ley lines play a crucial role in this, acting as conduits of elemental energy. It isn’t much right now… just a minor cryo reaction. But in theory, I could use the same method to manipulate any elemental energies.”

 A speech that none save Sucrose would have let him finish. He trails off, an apology prepared, only to find Venti watching him, hanging off of every misunderstood word. 

“... You have no idea what I am talking about.” He observes.

Venti shakes his head, grinning. “Nope!” He pops the p. “Sorry.”

“You could have stopped me.”

“Hehe… but you get so animated when you get really into something.”

Albedo pauses. Animated is not a word anyone has used to describe him before. And especially when compared to Venti, Albedo feels about as animated as a stone. “Ah… if you say so.”

.

Morning arrives with stiff muscles, aching from the cold and the hard stone floor. Venti rolls over on his bedroll and stretches like a cat, whining to himself as he tries to massage some feeling back into his arms.

"Ugh, how do you do it, Albedo?" he groans, voice bleary and slurred from sleep.

Albedo, already awake, put together, and methodically preparing for the day, glances over. "How do I do what?" he asks.

"Spend so much time up here alone, in the cold," Venti elaborates, sitting up and rubbing his arms vigorously. "I feel like I’m going to turn into an icicle.”

Albedo shrugs lightly. "The cold doesn’t really concern me. I’m accustomed to it."

Venti gives him a dubious look, eyebrows raised. "What about being so alone all the time? It’s so… cut off. I think I’d go completely crazy if I didn’t have anyone to talk to."

A small smile plays on Albedo’s lips, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I can imagine you wouldn’t take well to solitude, no. But it’s not a problem for me. I’m used to it. Often, I lose myself in my experiments to the extent that when I am around people, they find me to be rude and off putting. So it's better to work alone. I can focus more on my work, and I don’t run the risk of offending others."

Venti looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ehe… I hope I haven’t been bothering you too much. It never occurred to me that someone might actually want to be alone."

Albedo is mildly amused by Venti’s concern. "You haven’t been a bother, Venti. I don't mind company. It is just rare that I have it, especially here.” He finishes packing his supplies and stands up. "Shall I walk you back down to basecamp? I have some time."

Venti is about to accept before he pauses, tilting his head. "Time, huh? What are your other plans for the day, anyway?"

"I plan to gather some rare ores from within the deeper caverns of Dragonspine," Albedo replies.

Venti’s eyes light up with interest. "Sounds exciting! Mind if I tag along?"

Albedo raises an eyebrow, clearly dubious. "It isn’t particularly exciting, no. Don’t you have better things to do?"

Venti shrugs, grinning. "I spend most of my time harassing my friends. Now that you are one, harassing you is a perfectly valid way to spend my time. Besides, it'll be just like doing a commission!"

"Except you won’t get paid," Albedo points out blandly.

Venti laughs, waving off the comment. "The joy of your company is payment enough!"

Albedo halts abruptly, an aborted laugh caught in his throat. It comes out as a vaguely confused wheeze. He stares at the bard in complete silence for just long enough to make the other start to worry, before shaking his head slightly. “If you insist. Just try to keep up."

.

The cave system beneath Dragonspine is a labyrinth of cold, dark tunnels, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient minerals. They are - thankfully for both parties - nowhere near Durin’s remains. 

The tunnel they’re currently walking through is not painfully narrow, but not particularly spacious, either. They have enough room to stand to their full height, to walk without hitting their shoulders or knees into the walls, but not enough to walk side by side. Albedo takes the lead, knowing what it is he is looking for.

Venti, behind him, hums a quiet tune under his breath. Something nostalgic and lighthearted. He can’t help but feel a twist of unease about how deep they’ve ventured. He doesn’t regret following Albedo, but he very, very rarely spends any significant amount of time underground.

He doesn’t love the weight of the mountain surrounding him. It feels antithetical, even threatening, in its own way.

Albedo moves with focus, his attention wholly on the task at hand. His eyes wander the walls and floors of the cave, looking for any obvious protrusions or deposits.

"Albedo," Venti speaks up, needing something to break the silence. "Why do you always seem so serious? I bet you have a great smile hidden away somewhere."

Albedo pauses, his expression momentarily blank as he processes the question. "I smile, sometimes," he replies, though his tone suggests he’s not entirely sure about that. He frowns slightly. "It's just the way I am."

Venti, realizing he might have touched a nerve, quickly backpedals. "Oh no, I didn't mean anything by it. It isn't a bad thing."

Albedo shrugs, apparently unbothered but still thoughtful. "You’re not the first to ask that. I know I don’t always show my feelings in the ways people would expect. And I am quite serious. I tend to misunderstand humour and am poor at reading tone. It isn’t uncommon for people to assume I lack the appropriate range of emotion, or that I am unsympathetic."

Venti shakes his head quickly, trying to clarify. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all! I know you’re not like that! I just thought there might be some reason you were so… like that. I mean… I thought, maybe you were imposing it on yourself."

Albedo looks at him oddly, tilting his head. "No, there’s no specific reason. This is just my natural affect. I have tried to be more expressive, but I was told that was worse. Kaeya said it was uncanny and disturbing. The others were a bit more polite about it, but the sentiment was the same."

Venti lets out a soft giggle, relieved that Albedo isn't offended. “He said that?”

“Mhm.”

"Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re just fine the way you are. But I’ll still be on the lookout for that elusive smile."

Albedo’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile. He turns his head away to hide it. "Noted."

Their conversation is cut short by the sound of movement up ahead. 

The tunnel they’ve been making their way through opens up ahead of them into a larger cavern. It’s only dimly lit by pale, glowing quartz and a soft luminescent moss.

Hilichurls, a small group, are hunched over something in the centre of the small cavern. Venti and Albedo exchange glances.

"What are they doing here?" Venti whispers. "There's nothing in this cave worth their trouble."

Albedo shrugs. "The same could be said of us. Perhaps they're as out of place as we are."

Rolling his eyes, Venti sighs. "Fair point.” He slides one foot backwards, back the way he came, and begins a silent retreat. “Let's head back before they notice us. I'm not in the mood for a fight today." He murmurs.

Not in such a tight space. Between his element - Anemo - and his weapon - a bow - he would be less than useless, and would really prefer to avoid conflict altogether.

Albedo nods in agreement, following carefully after Venti. Neither one is sure what did it - did they knock a stray pebble? Did a hilichurl catch sight of their movement? They won’t know. All they do know, is that a guttural cry echoes through the cave, and the creatures charge.

Venti reaches for his bow with a grimace. Now they need to push back into the open cavern, or he’ll be stuck trying to shoot over Albedo’s shoulder. Actually… scratch that. He struggles to draw the bowstring, his elbow knocking the wall. The top and bottom of his bow scrape and catch on the walls when he attempts to aim. The passage is too narrow to manoeuvre it.

Less than useless.

Albedo places a hand on the wall, pushing off to launch himself forward, out into the open space. He pushes through the hilichurls, but doesn’t quite come close to ‘cleaving a path.’ Neither one of them was built for this kind of fighting.

It’s chaotic, the narrow space limiting their movements. Albedo moves with precision, but he’s still taking more hits than he’s landing. It’s sheer numbers. He throws out a hand and his vision glows, but it stutters and fades at the last moment as his eyes go wide. 

“The walls here are unstable.” He hisses in way of explanation. He can’t use his vision - not without risking bringing the entire tunnel down on their heads.

Venti yelps as a club gets hum under the ribs, sending him into the far wall. His head spins as he fumbles with his bow, getting off as many shots as he can in the darkness. They are making progress… it’s just frustratingly slow. They’re chipping away at the hilichurls, it’s a fight they will win, but not without -

A crack against the side of Venti’s head, and he’s down again. 

He swipes out with his bow, knocking the feet out from under the one who hit him. He scrambled back up, swaying. Ugh, not good. At least they’re almost finished here. It’s embarrassing how badly he and Albedo let a random group of hilichurls, of all things, get the jump on them this badly. He definitely won’t be telling anybody about this.

Only two left though, and then they can-

Across the cavern, Albedo drops like dead weight. Unconscious already? And with a hilichurl looming over him, raising its club for a hell of a downswing. With Anemo at his heels, Venti darts forward. He knows he won’t be fast enough to intercept, so he…

He knows its a bad idea, but there’s no time for anything else. An arrow is in his hand before he has time to second guess himself, Anemo building, swelling, and releasing. The last hilichurl is knocked backwards with concussive force. The air pressure in the tight space twists, condenses. There’s no sound outside the ringing in his ears as his feet keep carrying him forward.

The silence breaks with a terrible tremor of the earth. Venti barely has time to throw himself over Albedo’s unmoving form, shielding him as the ceiling comes down.

It isn’t a shower of rock and debris, it isn’t a cascade of stone. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. It’s the earth moving beneath them and groaning around them, and then the sudden crushing force of a mountain being dropped on his back, and then nothing.

.

Venti doesn’t know how long he was unconscious for, because there is very little to differentiate between that and consciousness at the moment. His body aches, the kind of ache where he’s broken in too many places to process them all, so it fades into something less tangible. His mind wanders in a vague facsimile of thought, closer to delirium. Never staying on one thought long enough to make sense of it. 

His body is pinned so completely in place he might as well not have one - but this is so quintessentially opposed to his previous unembodied experiences. He isn’t light, floating, or untethered. He’s trapped utterly and completely, in every sense of the word. He can’t twitch a finger or inhale a breath. 

There’s nothing but blackness whether his eyes are open or shut.

There is no airflow. Forget wind, there is no air at all. He cannot see, cannot hear, cannot feel anything but earth, he strains to turn his head, to shift his shoulder, to get out , to get free, to- to- to-

“Venti.”

To-

“Venti.”

To-

“Venti.” The voice is calm, insistent, cutting through the haze. Albedo's voice.

"Bwuuhh?" Venti manages, his tongue thick and uncooperative. His vision clears just enough to see Albedo's face, partially illuminated by the faint glow of his vision at his throat.

"Are you okay?" Albedo's tone is steady, but there's an obvious undercurrent of concern. It’s funny - why should Albedo be so concerned for Venti?

"I'm fine," Venti responds automatically, though the words feel foreign and detached from reality. He’s never heard his voice so contained before. There is no room for it to travel, to space for it to breath. It’s muffled by thousands of tonnes of stone, and the chest that his face is buried against.

"Can you move?" Albedo asks, his own position still and tense, pinned beneath Venti.

Venti tries again to shift, but he remains utterly immobile. "No... I can't move. I'm stuck." Panic edges into his voice.  "I can't breathe. There’s not enough space for my chest to expand - and there’s no air down here. If we were human, we’d be dead. I can't—"

"It's fortunate neither of us need to breathe," Albedo interjects smoothly, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. "Can you feel any airflow at all? Any indication of an exit?"

Venti closes his eyes, straining to sense even the slightest breeze, but there is nothing. Just cold, heavy silence. "No... I can't feel anything. There's nothing. We're trapped. Albedo, we're trapped."

"Stay calm," Albedo urges, though the pressure of their situation is pressing heavily on his own mind. If he was alone, he may be taking this worse. Venti’s anxiety is giving him something to ground himself to. "Panicking won't help us."

Venti's mouth snaps shut, and he forces himself into silence. Inside, his thoughts are spiralling. He can feel his heart pounding against the crushing weight, but he tries to focus on the stillness, to keep from falling apart. Albedo wants him calm? Venti is far from calm. Venti knows if he opens his mouth, a stream of nonsense will come spilling forth again. He can’t help it - he talks when he’s anxious.

(He talks when he’s happy, when he’s angry, when he’s scared. He can’t help it.)

Minutes stretch into an eternity. Venti's eyes are closed, his face pressed into Albedo's chest. His hands, clutching at Albedo's coat, twitch occasionally. His breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. There's nothing to breath, but he keeps trying anyway. He tries to drown out his increasingly intrusive thoughts by focusing on the faint, rhythmic beat of Albedo's heart beneath him. It feels heavier than a human heart, and beats slower.

"Albedo," Venti finally murmurs, voice strained, "Do you know how deep we are? Can you... move the stone at all? Can you do anything? "

Albedo hesitates, and Venti knows the answer before he speaks. 

"We're deep," Albedo admits. "And I don't think I can manipulate the Geo without making our situation worse."

"Okay," Venti replies, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Okay." He falls silent again, retreating into himself, trying not to think. Trying not to wonder how can it get worse? Anything would be better than this. We’re trapped, buried, crushed.

Albedo remains still beneath him, his mind working, considering their limited options. Venti whimpers occasionally, a sound so quiet and uncharacteristic that he’s fairly certain the bard is unaware he’s making it. It sounds more animal than human, and more like a trick of the wind than an animal. If it weren’t for the close quarters and otherwise absolute silence, Albedo doesn’t think even he would have heard it.

In fact… perhaps he feels it in his chest, more than hears any sound at all. A distressed little tremor, only detectable where their chests are pressed together, and in the way his hands grip tighter at moments. 

"Venti," Albedo says softly, breaking the silence. "I need you to stay with me."

Venti doesn't respond immediately. Finally, he manages a weak nod - not a nod, so much as pressing his face harder into Albedo's chest. The only thing around him with enough give to allow him any movement at all. "Okay.”

. Part 2

[thecinderninja]

Skip Google for Research

As Google has worked to overtake the internet, its search algorithm has not just gotten worse.  It has been designed to prioritize advertisers and popular pages often times excluding pages and content that better matches your search terms 

As a writer in need of information for my stories, I find this unacceptable.  As a proponent of availability of information so the populace can actually educate itself, it is unforgivable.

Below is a concise list of useful research sites compiled by Edward Clark over on Facebook. I was familiar with some, but not all of these.

⁂

Google is so powerful that it “hides” other search systems from us. We just don’t know the existence of most of them. Meanwhile, there are still a huge number of excellent searchers in the world who specialize in books, science, other smart information. Keep a list of sites you never heard of.

www.refseek.com - Academic Resource Search. More than a billion sources: encyclopedia, monographies, magazines.

www.worldcat.org - a search for the contents of 20 thousand worldwide libraries. Find out where lies the nearest rare book you need.

https://link.springer.com - access to more than 10 million scientific documents: books, articles, research protocols.

www.bioline.org.br is a library of scientific bioscience journals published in developing countries.

http://repec.org - volunteers from 102 countries have collected almost 4 million publications on economics and related science.

www.science.gov is an American state search engine on 2200+ scientific sites. More than 200 million articles are indexed.

www.pdfdrive.com is the largest website for free download of books in PDF format. Claiming over 225 million names.

www.base-search.net is one of the most powerful researches on academic studies texts. More than 100 million scientific documents, 70% of them are free

[thecinderninja]

was thinking about how venti and albedo know each others identities from that quest… parallelisms, even…

[thecinderninja]

i had a dream where tornadoes were made illegal or something i just remember like a dozen police cars driving directly toward a tornado with their sirens on and all getting sucked into the tornado

[thecinderninja]

dahlia art i did a bit ago :)