I swear to fucking god. I would claw out OneDrive from my computer if I could. I would burn down their servers if I could. I would run down their stocks to the ground if I could. I hope every single one of their workers gets a better offer from a competitor in the next 24 hours. I hope every single one of their light bulbs explodes at the same time. I hope every single carton of milk in their fridge will always be expired.
Stop backing up my fucking files.
Stop asking me to back up my fucking files.
Stop taking my fucking files off my fucking computer.
I don't want a fucking reminder in three fucking days. Let me fucking say no.
Please tell me that y'all won't go back to tiktok once Trump gets whatever nefarious concessions he wants from the company and "saves" it. Like, you all NEED to stay gone. Stay on Xiaohongshu or move to other platforms or create a new one or whatever, but don't go back to whatever Trump-appeasement monstrosity TikTok is about to become. Don't do it.
zhongli immediately tries to find the core of the problem. “what is it that troubles you, dearest? perhaps we can find a more peaceful solution? violence is not always the answer. this, i know from all the 6000 years i’ve lived—” aaaand there he goes on his lecture. if your goal was to get him to give you a preaching of a lifetime, well, congratulations, you’ve done it. sit back and relax, brew some tea, maybe get some snacks, because you’ll be here for a while.
al haitham, surprisingly, actually humors you. only because he knows you were teasing him and this is his way of teasing you back, but you’ll probably end up staring at him in confusion because he looks dead serious while doing so. “what an interesting offer. i’ll have to ask you to submit a formal proposal through your special submission channel. make sure you have several backup plans in case of emergencies. have it on my desk by tomorrow afternoon, the latest.”
wriothesley straight up denies you with a roll of his eyes. he knows you’re joking, and honestly speaking he would stain his hands with blood for you, but as much as he loves you, he really didn’t want you to end up at the fortress while under a sentence. although theoretically he could pull some strings to make sure you spent your sentence peacefully if that scenario ever happened, the fact was that such records will follow you for the rest of your life, and he wants you to stay in the sunlight. “what did i always tell you? don’t break the law... but if you really want to, how about you try to steal my breath away with a kiss?”
neuvillette stops writing his reports immediately, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “my dear, come sit, let us converse.” he holds your hand and proceeds to rope you into a heart-to-heart talk. are you being harassed by someone? are you being threatened? the cup of water rippled erratically as he waited for you to answer those particular questions. is there something he could do to help that wouldn’t make either of you getting dragged into a court trial? can he— …. yeah, someone save him, he totally thinks that you’re serious.
childe agrees immediately. is that even a question? “sure! who do you need me to kill?” he asks, with his signature wide boyish grin plastered onto his face and his hand twitching to reach for his hydro blade. look. it’s your ajax. your (man)childe. your tartaglia. i bet you liked his murderous tendencies anyway. are you even surprised?
kaeya makes it a point to gasp and looking like a maiden who caught the sight of two lovers rendezvousing in the garden. when he notices you not buying his act, however, he laughs and switches gear into a teasing smile, “oh? was me stealing your heart not enough?”
diluc stares at you blankly, one eyebrow raised, his voice monotonous — if you hadn’t known how to read his minuscule reactions, you would have missed the spark of mirth dancing in his eyes; a trace of the young ‘luc buried deep inside the scarred heart of a charred phoenix, “…. hmph. did kaeya put you up to this?”
tighnari hums nonchalantly and gives you a knowing smirk, his tail swishing mischievously behind him, “perfect. i do have a rare specimen i’d like to plant. i’m sure it’ll benefit well from the nutrients it’ll absorb from your victim. so, where did you put the body?”
#all i know about the last unicorn is that alex hirsch hates this film#because the unicorn is a spoiled little bitch that never thanks the wizard for doing anything to help her
????????????????????????
is this true? because....she very much does thank him at the end of the movie
You should see it. It isn't worth the risk of not seeing it if it's something that you might even remotely enjoy. Especially based on what one person says, no matter how much you admire or trust them.
He can dislike it, but if the unicorn had been buddy-movie grateful, disney-movie emotional, it would have been a very different, very shallow, MUCH worse movie. Like just, really really bad.
She's not bitchy or catty or cruel, she literally does not understand humans or their drive or their big emotions. She doesn't feel love, she doesn't feel regret. She doesn't have ambition, she doesn't desire or benefit from change. She barely wants anything. She's complete by herself. She is content.
She can't be ungrateful unless you expect what is essentially a...a kind of immortal spirit, a place, a forest in the shape of a creature, to be in any way at all human. She can't be a deity, that's an extremely human concept, but she is not a normal living thing in any regard whatsoever.
The entire point of the movie is change, and truth. Front to back, it is change and truth, and the destruction of illusions, and surviving it, and the toll that takes, and the gifts it can bring. It's full of tremendous and intense, unthinkable, incomprehensible, destructive, renewing, life-altering change. And also truth, and the unraveling of illusions, which are everywhere in the narrative, and are almost always dangerous, or hiding something that is.
The unicorn unravels everything around her by being the catalyst for change, and it is incredibly destructive. Things come apart around her. It leads to good things, usually, but it breaks everything first.
She changes on the road, she learns to care about humans enough to help them, to save their lives, and that is very much an expression of gratitude.
She just doesn't care about the wizard questing for greatness. It is irrelevant. Glory is useless. And she's right.
She doesn't experience a fundamental alteration of her nature until she is forcibly changed against her will to survive, and it is not a positive change. It ruins her. It is a tremendous trauma that leaves her empty and broken, and eventually, partly and unnaturally human. She keeps losing what she was, and it is tragic and painful to watch. Why would she be grateful for that? She wishes she had died.
She finally develops something like love, but only after she has forgotten much of what she was. Then she desperately grasps onto it as something to replace what she lost.
Her encroaching humanity is killing what she was (her first response to being human was absolute visceral terror at having a mortal, and thus actively dying, body) a trauma response that allows her to survive, to hide. An illusion.
Love is an attempt to make peace with it all, and it is beautiful enough, but also empty. You are never meant to cheer for it. Only feel for them both. It's a sticking point for some people that the romance isn't done well. It isn't meant to feel right. They leaned on it a little hard in the movie, the book does it better, but it was a "kids' movie" (it isn't) so that was a little inevitable.
Change destroys everything, and it breaks everything.
At the end, when she changes back, who is it she appears to, to acknowledge what happened? And who is it she visits and touches and loves and says goodbye to? She is grateful.
The movie/book does exactly what it set out to do, and I have to say that I don't necessarily trust the judgment of people who dismiss it out of hand.
Yes, I saw it young, in the theater, so I imprinted, but it has been a radically different movie at different parts of my life. I've identified with every character in different phases of my life, so it has had the depth to stand up to easily over a hundred viewings by a half dozen versions of myself. I know people have their issues with the style of animation which, whatever, I think it's gorgeous and I also don't consider that a reason to dismiss an otherwise good movie or show (I really dislike the animation style of Gravity Falls, actually, it bores the crap out of me, but that isn't the point). But the story itself is not like anything else I've ever seen.
If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you don't. But wanting her to be grateful and kind is...really super duper extremely not the point, and would actually be antithetical to it and ruin the story as it is. And it's missing the ways she expresses those things. If that's what you take away, that she is somehow morally deficient, you literally did not understand it, or you haven't seen it, or you have a take so radically divergent from mine I am probably incapable of understanding it.
Also it's factually untrue, the unicorn literally thanks him at the end, rejecting his apology.
Unicorn: [in response to him asking if she's happy] "I am a little afraid to go home. I have been mortal, and some part of me is mortal yet. I'm no longer like the others, for no Unicorn was ever born who could regret but now I do. I regret."
Wizard: "I am sorry I have done you evil and I cannot undo it."
Unicorn: "No. Unicorns are in the world again! No sorrow will live in me with that joy… save one - and I thank you for that part, too. Farewell good magician. I will try to go home."
Like she literally and explicitly thanks him for helping her save the other unicorns, despite the harm he did to her personally. She's aware it was a necessary evil, and the story bares this out. The regret and love she felt was what drove her to fight back. She pulls strength from this and is able to drive the Red Bull into the sea and save the other unicorns. Gaining this strength came at a deep personal cost though. And she still thanks him for it. It's the last line of the film.
✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’
✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.
ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)
“i’m sorry.”
zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.
“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.
“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”
“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”
zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.
belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.
zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.
“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”
“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”
“a-are you sure you want me?”
out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.
“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”
“oh….”
“….”
“….”
you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.
“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”
you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.
and it angered him.
but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.
funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.
“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”
“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”
“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”
wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—
he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.
“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”
he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…
“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”
“then is your own head telling you that?”
“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.
he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.
he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.
“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”
the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.
he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.
“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”
hes 19, with unlimited power, and he ain’t got a gf. the only time we see him interact with any women his own age is when he’s rejecting like 7 of them rapid fire. he pretends to date pacha in a gag that lasts like 10 solid minutes. listen to me god damnit
Okay, but just in case anyone is coming to tumblr dot com for my hot takes on 20+ year old kids' movies: Kuzco super WAS gay (or at least coded as such) and of course, I didn't get it until I watched it as a gay grownup.
He is played obviously camp and dramatic, for a start, and there is the aforementioned "hate your hair/not likely/yikes yikes yikes/let me guess you have a great personality" summary dismissal of all his potential brides. Then he spends dinner asking Yzma about Kronk ("so he seems nice? He's what, in his late twenties?") and otherwise being slightly obsessed with him.
Then there is the whole Adventure of Doom with Pacha, him being ever huffy about the Kiss of Life, and then the restaurant gag where Kuzco takes to playing Pacha's fake wife and dressing up in ladies' clothing with great gusto (reinforced by the waitress' "bless you for coming out in public" remark when Pacha says they're on their honeymoon). Then when he is finally de-llamafied, we don't see him paired off with the obligatory girl from the lineup earlier, as might otherwise be expected in a Disney movie. Instead he is still single, but goes to found family it up with Pacha, Chica, Kronk, etc, which dare we remark is a very queer trope.
In short, I have no idea how a Disney movie with no white people (all the characters are Indigenous/people of color), a gay king, cross-dressing jokes, and the most offbeat plot of all time actually ever got made (can you imagine the Family Friendly Mouse doing that today? Let us also talk about Kronk because he is a brilliant deconstruction of both toxic masculinity and the musclebound henchman stereotype.) Other than that this was the Chaos Hour of animated movies in the late 90s/early 2000s, and yes.
So yes. There you have it. I will not be taking criticism at this time.
In response to the question “How did a movie like this get made at all much less by fucking Disney?” there was a recent Vulture article that outlines the whole shit show of a history behind this film according to everyone (writers, directors, VAs, Stings) involved. The gist of the story is that they fucked up making a whole, true-to-form Disney musical that never came to see the light of day SO BADLY that Disney switched directors, locked the writer’s room, and didn’t review a single script until weeks after the film was in theaters.
Please, read this article if you have some time. This story is wild, and involves directors being pitted against each other Bake-Off style and a shockingly intimate documentary created by the wife of Sting who, himself was heartbroken by the decimation of the songs he wrote for the film including cutting a fantastic Yzma villain song sung by Eartha Kitt that is SO DAMN GOOD but would not ever have fit the more nailed-down Yzma we would eventually come to know and love. It’s so catchy though, I’m doubling up on calls to action but please listen now:
Just said to @petermorwood last night, "I'd say it's time for a rewatch." Gonna do that right now. (If I have to sit here doing this Mailchimp crap, at least I can have Yzma yelling "Why do we even have this lever?!" in the background.
Remember that time that Trudie Styler was allowed to make a Making Of Documentary about Kingdom of the Sun/Emperor's New Groove because her husband (Sting) was hired to do the music and this was part of his contract, but the doc showed how much of a disaster the making of this movie was so Disney refused to release it but then it got leaked on the internet and now the internet archive has it?
Thinking about how wild it is that enshittification starts as a way for the rich to squeeze the populace for more money but ends up infecting everything so even luxury products decline in quality. They’ve got more money than fucking God now and for what? Literally they can’t even buy fun nice stuff for themselves because they killed craft.
Anyway this post is about Dhaka muslin but it’s also about everything.
Nearly 200 years ago, Dhaka muslin was the most valuable fabric on the planet. Then it was lost altogether. How did this happen? And can we
Fun fact! Revival of Dhaka Muslin has been ongoing for quite some time. The headline of the above article is very very misleading, we know exactly how Dhaka Muslin was made. The process was very well documented. We know how it was made, but colonialism ruined the fabric's production area and devalued the skills needed to make it such that they no longer existed. But the process itself was not lost.
That being said, efforts to bring it back are underway, and they have been making amazing progress, and succeed in creating Dhaka Muslin yet again.
It all began with a search for ‘phuti karpas’ – muslin’s unique cotton plant which is known to have become extinct. However, starting in 201
This is a pretty good updated article, it has a lot of the same info as the BCC one (which also discusses some of the revival efforts) but with more of a focus on that process, an update to the story, and it details some of the other ongoing projects working on the revival!
Here's the first weaver to manage to produce a finished piece in nearly 200 years, Al Amin.
His first piece was 300 threads, according to the article they have now been able to get into the 700s for thread counts, which is absolutely incredible.
Several projects are actually underway now each with different weavers and slightly different methods, producing fabric intended to meet or best the original!
And if you're curious, "okay but can it pass through a ring" yes! Yes they can!
All three of these photos are of pieces made in the modern century, photos by Wasiul Bahar!
It's a very time consuming process, and a very expensive fabric to purchase, but love and passion for it have been steadily bringing it back!
Men who you can easily control and convince of things if you use your nuclear bombs, also known as your boobs.
There he was, sitting in that chair and reading documents for the past 4 hours. It is midnight and he still refuses to go to bed because those documents were apparently ‘really important’ and due tomorrow. Although you recognize his hardworking spirit, sometimes he takes it too far.
That’s why you used your biggest weapon.
You flashed him.
“I’m sorry, my love, but I really need to—” That exact moment of him finally turning his face to stare you back was when you lifted up your shirt, making him paralyze immediately.
His face was stoned at a perfect angle where he could clearly see and appreciate your breathing boobs, his eyes getting dry from the lack of blinking.
“Don’t you think you’ve worked a lot today already? You need have good-quality sleep if you want to work well…” You decided to act extra mean to him and used your hand to squeeze them in their favorite way.
He kept staring at your boobs in silence for some awkward seconds.
…
…
…
“Ok.” He immediately dropped his pen and jumped out of his chair and launched his mouth towards one of your breasts, taking it like he has been starving for it for years now.
being a writer leads to a genuinely helpful but also very stupid kind of mindfulness where you'll be having a sobbing breakdown or the worst anxiety attack of your life and think "okay, I really need to pay attention to how this feels. so I can incorporate it into my fanfiction."
Does anyone just randomly realize in the middle of doing something what specific flavor of trauma they have and just go "oh shit"? Like, I'm a middle child with older sibling and religious trauma, but I haven't really heard anyone else being a middle child with older siblings trauma. Anyone else?
❥ — SUMMARY (modern setting) Everything about Alhaitham gets under your skin, you hate him more than anyone else at the Akademiya and he knows it.
Your friend and coworker, Kaveh, has something contradictory to say on the matter, although you completely ignore him until the problem is stood right in front of you.
# A/N I will probably write a part 2 for this, fyi
You hate him.
The top scholar at the Akademiya has the incredible ability of knowing how to push every single one of your buttons. Everything about him manages to get under your skin, and you're almost certain that he knows it, too. His mere prescence seemed to amplify any and all feelings on inadequacy; as though he was a reminder that you'd never beat his achievements.
“I just don’t understand it,” Kaveh is sat with you on your lunch break, liberally taking sips of your own coffee, “you’d probably like each other if you both took those sticks out your—”
“Yeah, thanks, Kaveh, I think I get it,” you interrupt, sarcasm heavy on your tongue.
You aren’t even sure when he came up, which is how he always becomes the topic of conversation between you, but you had been subjecting your favourite coworker to an endless flurry of complains about your least favourite person in your classes. Who also happened to be the smartest person in your classes, always scraping one or two more marks than you in every assignment and always being so smug about it.
“Kaveh!” his voice is unmistakable, and so are his approaching footsteps.
The blond has a sly grin on his face as you lock eyes, “oh look, here comes Romeo now.”
You want to disappear, letting your forehead fall into the surface of the wooden table (it might make you invisible if you make yourself small enough). Seeing people you know at work is already bad enough, let alone seeing your sworn enemy while you’re on lunch.
Alhaitham comes to a stop, standing in between you both before handing Kaveh a set of keys, “Sorry for intruding, I got your new keys cut.”
The exchange is brief and you don’t really pay attention, too busy trying to look disinterested and hoping he won’t turn his attention to you.
He does.
There’s no tangible expression on his face as he talks, almost robotically, “good luck getting your results back today. I don't doubt that you'll do well.”
He turns back to Kaveh, says his goodbyes and then leaves.
There’s a moment of silence before you speak, thinking about Alhaitham’s words, “you never told me you lived together.”
“You never told me you were getting results back today,” he shrugs in response, attaching his new keys to his lion keychain.
You think about it for a second, chewing over the idea in your head, before your jaw drops open, “hold on you aren’t dating, are you?! You and Alhaitham?!”
The look on Kaveh’s face is incomprehensible: a mix of shock, disgust, embarrassment and incredulity. He shakes his head at you, speechless from your accusation.
He gains his composure after a few seconds, pointing an accusatory finger, “just because you can’t get him out of your mind, doesn’t mean he’s always on mine.”
“You make it sound like I’m obsessed with him,” you roll your eyes, finishing off your drink so you can get back to work, “it’s not my fault he’s a prick.”
"Maybe it's because he liiiiikes you~" he teases, following your lead and standing up.
Your sour opinion of the sage had started at the beginning of your second year of study. You hadn’t particularly interacted with Alhaitham in your first year, and found his constant top-scores to be a motivation rather than an annoyance. This guy must be incredible! were your (naive) thoughts.
You had always been competitive, it's why you retained top grades in school before enrolling into the Akademiya. So when you first saw Alhaitham's name above yours, he was simply a benchmark—a flag post for your next goal.
Then you get put together for a group project.
A hasty meeting with everyone in your group leaves you feeling good and you quickly get added to a groupchat, joining the conversation to schedule meetings and assign the workload evenly. Alhaitham doesn’t say anything in the chat, just thumbs up reacts to messages to signal he knows what’s happening.
He doesn’t turn up to a single meeting.
All of you are slightly anxious about it and none of you had received any of the research back from him. Was the top Akademiya student really this lousy at group work?
Two days before the deadline, you all get an email from Alhaitham with a word document and powerpoint covering all of the work to the highest standard. His email has one line: ‘Feel free to use’.
It’s undoubtedly better than what some of your group put forward but you don’t think your own work is any worse and refuse to have it replaced.
Your group ignores you and holds Alhaitham in their highest regard, swapping out their submissions for his.
The next time you have a group assignment, he's put with you again and, as you're leaving class, you overhear him asking to be moved to another group. You don't care—not particularly—but you can't ignore the feeling of frustration and doubt that creeps into you after this.
He's effortless in his success and you aren't. You'd be stupid not to remember that.
You’re sat in the Akademiya library scowling at your laptop screen. A results table sits in front of you and the only name above yours is—once again—Alhaitham. And by half a mark. You drop your head into the textbook in front of you and stop a groan escaping your throat. You can't help the feeling that no matter how hard you work, or how much effort you put in, he's always a step ahead of you. Just the sighy of him is a reminder that you can't catch up.
A minute or so passes with your head tucked away before you hear rustling beside you: the chair scraping the floor, a laptop being set down, textbooks, a pencil case, and someone sitting down. Curiosity gets the better of you and you rise your head from your self-pity party.
Alhaitham turns to you and nods in acknowledgment, opening his notebook, “Good afternoon.”
The familiarity of his voice, usually so sharp and dismissive, now seems softer, almost apologetic. You aren't sure if you've ever heard him be so emotive.
“What do you want? Congratulations on getting first place. Again.”
It doesn’t take a genius to hear the hostility in your tone, but your classmate either fails to pick up on it or blatantly ignores it, “actually, I wanted to congratulate you. Kaveh said you spent your time here in your free periods.”
“Of course Kaveh told you,” you sigh, making a mental note to be upset about it with him later, “thank you, is that all?”
His brows furrow at the sarcasm lacing your tone, “sorry,” he says your name like a spell, suddenly all your focus is on him, “have I done something to upset you?”
You want to laugh: is he just trying to annoy you? There's something in the way he says it that makes you think he may be sincere, despite how glaringly obvious it is (to you, at least).
“You—what?” before you can even begin to think about laying into his high-and-mighty persona, he stands up, chair scraping back on the floor, and bows. Your mind completely empties and you stare at him, slack-jawed. His apology is completely out of character, but there's no mocking trace to his tone.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you, in all honesty, I'm not quite sure what I've done.” He keeps his head fixed towards the ground, “But I would really like if we could have a more positive relationship moving forwards.”
You’re in shock at his actions and can only focus on the heat in your cheeks and the thumpthumpthump of your heart—is it supposed to move that quickly?
“Okay, okay,” you whisper, feeling everyone’s eyes on the pair of you, grabbing onto his shirt and tugging it towards you, “just sit down, please.”
He apologises again before moving to be seated, pulling his chair slightly closer. All of his attention is focused on you, gaze not budging when you pull your eyes away from his. You feel so embarrassed, face flushed and burning.
“Kaveh said you hated me.”
Your mouth dries, mumbling out, “I thought you hated me”.
He nods silently, slowly.
Neither of you say anything for a while. You aren’t sure if it’s only you that feels awkward but it compels you to say something, “I’m such a dick I’m sorry.”
“No, I understand why,” he speaks carefully, thinking about his words, “I know I’ve come across as… self-important. It was genuinely unintended, and I’d appreciate if we could be friends.”
It’s slightly rehearsed and robotic, and the whole situation leaves you feeling incredibly silly: had you been in a one-sided rivalry this whole time? You want the ground to swallow you up whole at the thought.
Alhaitham's words hang heavy in the air and you have no idea how to feel or how to approach the situation. Any anger seemed to dissolve away as his apology continued.
There's a voice in the back of your mind telling you to make up an excuse and leave; it would be easier to pretend this never happened and continue hating the tall man in front of you. It's (unfortunately) over taken by Kaveh's earlier statement: 'just because you can’t get him out of your mind, doesn’t mean he’s always on mine'.
You'd built Alhaitham up to be an embodiment of everything that got under your skin: the perfect signpost for who to beat. Now he's sat in front of you, with the ghost of a smile on his lips, asking if you can be friends. It feels so middle-school that you want to cry in embarrassment.
You fidget uncomfortably in your seat, silence stretching between you both. Alhaitham's gaze doesn't move from you, fixed with a sincerity that you wouldn't expect from Akademiya's top scholar. When you aren't looking at him with irritation, he's actually quite handsome.
"I think," your words are quiet, almost insecure, "I'd like that."
He nods, giving you a polite smile, "I'm happy to hear that."
His words don't make it any less awkward, but there's an obvious lack of tension that would have been there before otherwise. Neither of you say anymore as you both turn to your textbooks, no longer suffocating in the silence between you.
After a few minutes, your phone buzzes, Kaveh's contact lighting up the screen:
r u with haitham?
> yes
ur welcome <3
# A/N reader is a little bit mean in this but I was too obsessed w the idea of one-sided academic rivals that I couldn’t help myself.
✼ a/n ┈ zhongrin uploaded 3 weeks in a row?! madness!!! utter madness!!!! /silly i feel like i've been writing too much cutesy/sfw stuff lately.... i want to write 'darker' types of stuff but my brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate ugh pain
when he deduces that you were self-aware of your own oversight and are evidently panicking about it, he gives you a warm chuckle and shakes his head gently, “there is no need to apologize, and please do not feel mortified in any way. it really is fine.”
if you continue to not believe him, the ex-archon will be as patient as ever with his words of reassurances, and he does not mind repeating them until you feel comfortable enough to ask him the real errand that you wished to bestow upon him.
... but not before he gently places a hand to the small of your back to lead you to walk a little closer to him due to the increasing crowd on the streets, his voice a tender caress to your ear, “coming from you, i certainly did not mind the nickname.”
al haitham raises his eyebrows and shuts his book, “what a fascinating blunder. is that how you view our relationship subconsciously? or perhaps it’s an innate desire you’ve chosen to suppress but accidentally slipped out in a moment of unawareness?”
the scholar has the decency to wait for your answer betwixt your embarrassment, but he eventually sighs when you failed to form a coherent answer that satisfied his inquiries.
“you seem to have the impression that i am displeased at your err. i’d like to inform you that your assumption is yet another mistake - which, i would theorize, was made in the rush of the moment as your nervous system kicks into gear, therefore clouding your judgement. i would suggest you take a few moments to reanalyze my stance based on this new information. i’ll wait.”
and with that, he opens his book once more.
.... um.
congratulations, i guess?
wriothesley takes the opportunity and replies with a cheeky, “yes, honey? what can i do for you, sweetheart?”
he relishes in the utter embarrassment that quickly spread across your face that’s akin to water faced with his cryo elemental energy (though secretly he’s also dying inside at the cheesiness of the situation) and throws you a boyish grin before ruffling your hair.
not a man to let an opportunity escape, the duke decides to leverage the moment to take his metaphorical shot and goes immediately for a straight jab, like an experienced boxer that he is, all the while praying to the hydro archon so that this would be yet another match he could flawlessly win, “you know, my schedule’s particularly relaxed today… i wouldn’t mind staying longer if you want to make it a date?”
neuvillette blinks owlishly, his pale cheeks blooming with warmth as the situation starts to sink in. you, the apple of his eye, whom he treasured dearly and had taken great care to court, had just called him with a term of endearment that he had always dreamed of hearing.
wait, was this a dream? his gloved hands quickly found purchase on his blue horns, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. okay, he had two horns and ten fingers, still. so he must not have daydreamed this. ah- wait, you’re staring at him. oh, now you’re giggling. and now you’re calling him silly. oh, it should be a crime to be so breathtakingー
it’s not until your expression changed into surprise that he realized he had said that thought outloud.
your teasing “if it’s a crime, are you going to put me on trial, monsieur?” elicits a darker blush on his pale cheeks and an awkward cough out of him.
.... this must be how the young ones flirt nowadays.
“perhaps after a proper date? if it’s not impertinent of me, may i be allowed to take you out on dinner tonight?”
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