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#seated scribe
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Detail of inlaid eye belonging to the "Seated Scribe" , 2600 - 2350 BC. Crafted from red-veined white magnesite and rock crystal.
The Polished crystal was covered in the back with material used to create the color of the iris. :: [Treasures of ancient Egypt]
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The Dead, By Susan Mitchell
At night the dead come down to the river to drink. They unburden themselves of their fears, their worries for us. They take out the old photographs. They pat the lines in our hands and tell our futures, which are cracked and yellow. Some dead find their way to our houses. They go up to the attics. They read the letters they sent us, insatiable for signs of their love. They tell each other stories. They make so much noise they wake us as they did when we were children and they stayed up drinking all night in the kitchen.
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johbeil · 1 year
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Visitors 
Louvre, Paris, 1973. Leica M3 with 50 mm Leitz Elmar on Kodak film, scanned from negative. 
The statue in the foreground is The Seated Scribe from ancient Egypt (ca. 2620–2500 BCE).
I was 17 when I took this picture. Time flies!
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Seated Scribe, Old Kingdom, 4th Dynasty, c. 2620–2500 B.C. Musée du Louvre. E 3023
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almostarts · 5 months
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Chair of Reniseneb, New Kingdom, ca. 1450 B.C.
The back of this wooden chair, which belonged to the scribe Reniseneb, is handsomely veneered with ivory and embellished with incised decoration showing the owner seated on a chair of identical form.
It is the earliest surviving chair with such a representation, and it is the only non-royal example known. The scene and accompanying text have funerary import and may have been added following Renyseneb's death to make the chair a more suitable funerary object.
The high quality of its joinery and the harmony of its proportions testify to the skill of ancient Egyptian carpenters. The mesh seat has been restored following ancient models.
Wood, ebony, ivory,
Dimensions: h. 86.2 cm (33 15/16 in)
Courtesy: The Met
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astriiformes · 1 year
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Beloved local con sent out an email update saying they will still be requiring masks this year and are also banning all AI-generated art from the Dealer's Room and Artist's Alley... we love to see it...
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The Seated Scribe
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I just learned about this gentleman in AP Art History and I've not stopped thinking about him since.
This is a statue of an Ancient Egyptian scribe -- a member of elite society -- found in a necropolis. The information about where exactly he was found was lost. That plus the fact that he was separated from his base, which most likely would've said his name and title, means that we will never know who he really was.
Compare the above image to the one below.
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This is a statue of a Pharaoh. It's an idealized version of the man, whoever he is (that info has been lost, too). When you compare the two statues, the Pharaoh has a flat stomach and muscular arms and legs, whereas our scribe has clear fat rolls and arms that are quite skinny in comparison to the rest of his body.
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This is an honest depiction of a human being, not a fantasy version of a king revealed as a god. This is what this man actually looked like.
This is what a man from 2400 BCE actually looked like.
I mean. Holy shit.
What really fascinated archaeologists when it was discovered in the 1850s, though, is his eyes.
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I mean, they're just brilliant.
They're made with crystals, and are backed with some sort of organic material to give the irises that gray-ish color. The dark makeup around his eyes -- made from copper -- is a detail that proves he was of elevated status.
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I just-
I love this guy so much. I feel like I know him. Looking at this statue feels so much more intimate than looking at any other art from this time period, because everything was either idealized or unrealistic. I mean, just take a look at this detail from the Standard of Ur, a piece from about the same time period (but a little bit farther east in Sumer).
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It's gorgeously ornate sure, but none of these folks come even close to effecting me as much as the Seated Scribe does.
So yeah. Kinda all I have to say on the subject.
Hope you learned something :)
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anantaru · 10 months
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— biting them affectionately
including alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche, heizou, tighnari, albedo, kazuha, cyno x gn! reader
꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, this is so random
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alhaitham, who will be at loss of words at first— while, keep in mind, it wasn't easy to get the scribe speechless like that, regardless of how he was never bitten in his life. however, he told himself to never question whenever you'd do anything like that, so for one, he'd simply look at you confused and irritated, before asking you with a stern and stoic blush on his cheeks, "why?" it's not like he doesn't know, but for some reason did he find it quite amusing whenever you'd explain yourself over such little, hilarious things. but, when you decide to bite him again, without answering, he'd just ignore you and keep reading his book.
one might think kaveh will act slightly different than alhaitham, but he's equally confused yet the moment you bite him he'd let out a yell, animalistic, one overly dramatic scream of fake pain, channeling his vocal chords to their fullest extent. "what was that for?!" he whines, rubbing the pulsing red spot on his shoulder, "i just love you." you smile and now, again, he finds himself seeing you as the most adorable thing to ever exist. discernibly did you sense your precious chance of biting him many more times, only faintly, but strong enough to have your boyfriend whine and airily laugh before engaging in a playful fight with you.
if you think scaramouche won't bite you back, you're one naive and wide-eyed individual. this man also doesn't hold back, he'll give it his all to win what you have started. don't be upset when he starts biting you heavier than you do, he sees it as a serious showdown now. "don't go running off now." you're not admitting defeat yet, he fears, but you will, he's sure of it. by now, he has you caged in between his arms while a breezing pain in your belly began to expel, from all the sweet and heavy laughing and cheering. whether or not you will win was long since in the back of your head, what counted was seeing kuni engage in something silly for once, and having a great time at that.
heizou's quick and precise thinking skills were deeply needed in the predicament you both found yourself in. one minute you were lazily cuddling and kissing under the silken sheets before you decided to bite him out of nowhere, not hard, but impressionable. specifically against his neck where he was the most sensitive, "augh." he growls before looking at you, somewhat intrigued, "that came out of nowhere." he huffs, and in some strange way was he already beginning to plan his bloody revenge on you, pulling you on your back before dragging your hands over your head, so you're out of commission, so it's him who can decide where to give you a taste of your own medicine.
at the outset, tighnari thought a random bug bit him out of nowhere, he couldn't even fathom that it was you biting him out of the blue. "wait." he stops the work on his desk, tilting his head to the side where you were comfortably seated in, eagerly, awaiting a response, "was that you?" you can feel the sass in his full sentence as it spread through the seconds of silence before your answer goes right through, "nope." someone must give you an award for keeping your laugh in like that, especially when it was burning and bristling inwardly, "a bug." you shrug, "no, it's you." assuming you're playing mind tricks, he catches the smirk on your lips, "dangerous territory." he coos, the bite mark on his shoulder matches your teeth and thanks to closer inspection he confirms his suspicions. well, good luck to you.
it's not out of the ordinary for albedo to question something insignificant and random a little too deep. "how interesting." he rests his chin against his palm, "is this considered normal amongst humans?" a glittering, infectious smile pulls itself around your lips when he quizzes you on it, over and over, and you settle to do it again without responding, shortly gnawing down on his shoulder, "for me it is." while ruffling his hair until it was practically falling out of the small ponytail, "i see." albedo drags you closer, "should i return it?" by the look of things, this might become a daily occurrence now.
"oh?" kazuha brushes over his arm, holding eye contact, "you're strong." and feigns the heavy proudness in his voice. in actuality, he barely felt your teeth dig into his flesh, but he found the noises you made beyond cute, kind of high pitched within its hilarity. all and all, was this just one of the many things he fell in love with when it came to you and his face lights up in delight and interest when he notices the transparent joy on your lips. there's an almost imperceptible happiness across his entire skin, sparking at the outline of his jaw and littering in his eyes, "now." he slants forward, getting his point across, "my turn!"
quite frankly, did your boyfriend cyno get the impression that you were actually mad at him at first, alas why you decided to bite his cheek right after hugging him, that's the hypothesis of the day. turns out you weren't, shocker, but he rubs the squishy flesh before questioning it— with you, naturally responding right away, "it's because i love you." you assure him, "so you can see it as an act of love." and jokingly bite him again, this time slightly lighter and only a bit, emphasizing your point. after carefully thinking about it more upfront, cyno finds himself enjoying it and doesn't mind when you bite him as much as you see fit, as long as you're happy that is.
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©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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monicahar · 10 months
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“thanks for the flowers!”
“what flowers?”
in which they find out you receive a gift from someone that isn't them.
characters; wanderer, alhaitham, kaveh
; i keep seeing that damn tiktok 😐 gender neutral reader, fluff, crack,
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WANDERER eyes you skeptically, suspicion being evident on his pale features as he scans your expression up and down. has he already caught on to your little prank?
“first of all, who in their right mind would court you? and with some sappy flowers as well?”
you return his unamused gaze, finding him very unfunny.
“you do know that you're dating me, right?”
“unfortunately.” he clicks his tongue, further leaning towards your face, brows still furrowed as if he's trying to decipher something, gazing at you with an unreadable expression that has your resolve crumbling. “is this another one of your antics to get a rise out of me? if so, it's not working.”
his lips break out into a grin upon watching your eyes widen. but your shock doesn't last long—him immediately seeing through your silly scheme isn't an unexpected outcome, funnily enough.
“you're too serious sometimes.” you pout at him whilst he scoffs, “just humor me. what would you actually do if i managed to receive flowers from another?”
“it's simple—you can't.” comes his swift and confident reply, offending you as you stare at him incredulously, weighing the implication of his words.
“you speak of me like i'm the most unattractive person in teyvat—what do you mean i can't?”
“you're an idiot. would i have really chosen you if you were unattractive in any way?” he crosses his arms before facing you completely, indigo hues staring directly into yours.
“i already eliminated all those who dare steal you from me.”
...?
you freeze on the spot, processing what you've just heard.
“...excuse me?”
“—just kidding. i'm no longer that type of person, hah.” he huffs out a derisive laugh, yet his humorous farce does not meet his eyes.
not finding any comfort in his supposed testament of it only being a joke, you opt to stare at him confusingly in return. weirdo.
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ALHAITHAM, much like the wanderer, catches on to the prank immediately. whether it's intuition, scarily precise deduction or just the way you generally act weird when it comes to lying to his face—he still figured you out in the end like it's nothing.
but unlike the wanderer, he decides to humor you and play along. what a good boyfriend.
“...you mean you didn't give me the flowers?” you flutter your lashes at him, a horrible and terribly inefficient way to convince him that the whole thing with the flowers is actually real. alhaitham suddenly has the rare urge to laugh. since when did you act like this?
alhaitham shifts in his seat. “no. who do you think it's from?”
“hm.” you hum thoughtfully, bringing a finger to your chin as if in deep thought. the scribe briefly wonders how far you're willing to take this joke. but he digresses—the chances of him actually getting mad at you are akin to that of kaveh finally shutting up—
“maybe kaveh? he grew an interest in flowers recently, so i've heard. maybe he sent some as like a sign of friendship or something along those lines...there's no way it means something else, riiiiiight?”
alhaitham pauses his train of thought.
speak of the devil.
momentarily doubting his conclusion that you're just pulling a prank, he quietly glowers at you as if silently telling you to take back your words.
“what about him?”
you immediately cower upon the drop in his tone—raising your arms in defense when alhaitham moves to stalk closer to you. “i was joking! i didn't get any flowers from anyone and last time i conversed with kaveh was when i—”
“let's go.” he grabs the back of your collar and drags you along, a newfound heavy weight in his footsteps as an indescribable and uncomfortable feeling creeps up on his neck.
“i really was just joking, 'haitham! i was bored and i wanted to annoy you for a bit! i swear!”
even if it wasn't true, the thought of kaveh gifting you flowers without his knowledge—
alhaitham's expression subconsciously turns sour. quite unlucky that you couldn't witness the extremely scarce sight of jealousy on your boyfriend as you are comically dragged against your will behind him.
“the nearest flower shop is just around the corner. tell me if anything piques your interest.” he says in way that has no room for argument. he is getting you flowers now.
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KAVEH falls for it, obviously. not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed outside his designated profession, you see.
“i don't remember buying any flowers...” he mutters to himself, the gears in his head turning. it's almost laughable when he finally pieces your words together, a look of disbelief painfully present on his faxe but by some miracle, you resisted the urge to burst out in giggles right then and there. “wait...i didn't send any!”
“is that so...then who would send me flowers other than you?” you edge him on, instigating at its finest, much poking a sleeping bear with a stick while you circle it tauntingly.
an actual enraged kaveh is something you've never seen before, just some tantrums and endless ranting about some clients and his roommate. you've always wanted to see it—just not directed at you, hopefully.
“that's...ah, people already know you're dating me though, so it can't be someone hitting on you. maybe it's just from a relative or—”
“really?” you tilt your head, feigning a bit of confusion. “then i suppose i should keep these red roses then. i'll ask tighnari how to keep them alive, i guess.”
“w-wait, wait—could you repeat that?”
“hm?” you face him, “i'll ask tighnari?”
“no, the one before that.”
“...i'll keep the red roses?” you had to hold yourself back from grinning ear to ear when his eyes widen.
it's not unexpected that someone versed in the beauty of art would recognize one of the most common flower's meaning. quite the handy trivia.
he immediately stands up, grabbing your hand in tow as you yelp in surprise at his abruptness.
“kaveh?!”
“those flowers mean love! like, actual romantic love! i'll burn it for you right now! where'd you put it!?” the intensity of his ruby gaze sends shudders down your spine.
“it's not like i reciprocate it—”
“still, no one other than me should be sending those...!” kaveh tightens his grip on your hands, “i don't like the idea of someone hitting on you. i can't let anyone attempt to take you away from me...”
you blink. “kaveh...”
“—that's why show it to me now! or i'll bite you!”
“okay, okay! jeez...”
now...how are you going to break the news to him that it was actually yellow roses, and most definitely not from an admirer?
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the biggest hater of my work is myself. wtf am i writing bruh ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ
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tbe78 · 2 years
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The Seated Scribe / Le scribe accroupi
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mrpenguinpants · 1 year
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Green Slumber
— "Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?" "Shh...You're too loud, Paimon." "Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?"
— Alhaitham
Ayato Ver: Pale Blue Slumber Traveller & Paimon lines are taken from the official Genshin Twitter post. [Masterlist]
Congrats Alhaitham, your birthday postpones the fic where I tear you apart for scamming me. I usually don't write birthday fics but pretty art. Can you tell I'm not used to writing second pov and rushed again :)) I don't know how to end fics.
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"Ah, look! Is Alhaitham taking a nap?"
Lumine looks in the direction of Paimon's voice, her floating companion peeking through a room with a giddy face. No doubt hatching some sort of plan to get back at the scribe for his words during their quest to rescue Lesser Lord Kusanali. On one hand, she should probably scold Paimon for immediately jumping to payback since the reason both of them are here is to wish the man a happy birthday before departing to the next region. But on the other hand...
“Shh…You’re too loud Paimon,” Lumine whispers as she tip-toes towards the door and gently pushes it open further. She's pointedly ignoring the face Paimon is throwing her for acting just as bad as she is. If anyone asks, she'll make an excuse that she was just being a polite guest and if Alhaitham was sleeping, she would excuse herself quietly. In no way is it her curiosity to see the ever-serious Alhaitham in any mode that's defenseless and relaxed. So with Paimon’s head hovering above hers, they both poke their heads into the room. Alhaitham doesn’t look any different from the last time they met, although asleep, he looks far less intimidating. He’s leaned back in the wooden chair, arm propped up to hold his lolling head in place. Calculating amber and teal eyes are closed as his chest falls up and down slowly with each breath while the gentle sun paints him in warm yellows and soothing whites. If Lumine had never met Alhaitham before, she would have thought he may have been the Dendro archon with how serene the scene itself is. Something that almost makes her want to reach out and touch him just to check if he’s real or not.
"Th-That's not true…Paimon was definitely whispering-wait, who is that beside him?" Paimon’s voice tapers off at the end, eyes alight with confusion. Lumine tears her eyes away from Alhaitham to look at where Paimon is pointing. Seated on the desk right in front of Alhaitham’s sleeping figure, a stranger hums softly with their ankles locked as they swing their legs ideally in the air. In their hands appears to be the beige book Alhaitham usually carries around, the one about physics and motion if she remembers correctly. Now that she’s looking - she can't believe she missed an entire person because she got distracted by the image of a sleeping Alhaitham - the stranger looks far more comfortable in the room than she is. Maybe they're another roommate? Although Alhaitham doesn't seem like the type to have an extensive list of friends and she's positive she's met most if not all of the people Alhaitham could call close enough to have them in his home. She shares a look with Paimon who returns it with a shrug of the shoulders. Neither one of them has ever seen this mysterious person before.
"Haitham, this section here about..." the stranger's voice brings blue and yellow eyes back to the room. Lumine watches intrigued as the stranger finally looks up from the book to see Alhaitham fast asleep. A soft sigh escapes their lips as they close the book, shoulders dropping into something more relaxed, and they just sit and look at the man. They have the same look in their eye but instead, their hand slowly reaches out until their fingertips meet the tips of soft silver hair. Pushing strands away from his face before waltzing down to caress his cheek. It's an intimate touch and Lumine isn't sure whether she should be here interrupting the moment. The stranger surely seems to be having fun as they return to playing with silver strands. Through it all, Alhaitham remains asleep yet, his body seems to lean into the touch naturally. As if these practiced movements have happened before.
Oh. Oh, she understands now.
“Hey, Paimon…” Lumine starts as she slowly picks herself off the floor as quietly as possible lest she disturbs the peace. "We should leave."
"Huh? But why? We've never seen this person before right? What if they're one of those bad guys that are after Alhaitham because he's the acting grand sage!" Paimon adamantly nods, small hands clutched into little fists. It would be cute if it weren't for the fact that Paimon has no sense of volume. Before Lumine can reach out and press her palm against Paimon's mouth to stop her from shouting again, a light chuckle rings out. They both freeze in place, flicking their heads back inside the room.
"You know...if you talk any louder you will actually wake him up," the stranger drops their hand as they turn to face the duo. There's mirth dancing in their eyes and Lumine has enough decency to look embarrassed at getting caught red-handed. Paimon on the other hand has no such reservations.
"Ah, sorry! We didn't mean to! Wait-Hey! Don't turn this on Paimon. Who are you and what are you doing in Alhaitham's house?!" Paimon stomps her feet in the air, crossing her arms as she pouts at the stranger. Her frown further increased by the stranger laughing harder.
"I basically live here. There's no need to be so on edge. I doubt Haitham could sleep so easily if a stranger was in his home," they say, gesturing to the still peacefully unaware scribe who hasn't moved a muscle since they arrived.
"Ohh, so you're like that blond guy from before! Ka-Ka something? But wait, why were you touc-"
"Ahem, sorry for barging in. We just wanted to say Happy Birthday to Alhaitham. We'll visit again some other time when he's awake," Lumine cuts Paimon off, successfully managing to slap her hand against Paimon's mouth. She can feel the back of her ears turning red as she bows and practically sprints away and out of the house. She'll just write a note to the scribe instead.
+
You blink a few times before chuckling again. Wow, that girl sure can run fast. You've heard stories about the Traveller and this "Paimon" character, patiently waiting for your turn to stumble into their journey. Although you wish you had met them with better first impressions, they seem like a lively bunch. Your eyes slide over back onto the sleeping figure in front of you, and there's a slight nudge of his lips. The smallest of smiles threaten to burst before it placates into something more neutral. A small detail that hasn't escaped you.
"I know you're awake Alhaitham," you state blankly, your gentle hands reaching back up before suddenly turning harsh and tugging at his cheek. Pulling the skin so he has a lopsided smile. True to your words, teal and amber eyes open without an ounce of shame. "Weren't those your friends? Don't be rude and ignore them when they came all this way to say happy birthday."
He offers a half-hearted shrug before the hand supporting his head moves to take your fingers still tugging at his cheek. Intertwining them together until his face is free. His smile is still small but his eyes shine with fondness that you're forced to look away. Sometimes you forget just how pretty Alhaitham can be.
"Weren't you the one that said I should indulge on my special day? Is it so wrong that I want to spend it with you and you alone?" He adds to his point by brushing his lips against your fingertips before pressing a kiss to your palm. There's a small smile as he extends his other hand out, eyes taking in how pink your ears become. "So let's indulge."
“For such a pretty face, you sure are…” you trail off but you take his hand and let him move you onto his lap. It's unfair how fast he can turn the tables on you and how easily you let him do so. It was fun being able to poke and prod the man to your heart's content since he had to hold the disguise of being asleep, even if you do feel a bit bad that the Traveller had to postpone their greeting, but now it's his hands that roam over your body. Slipping under your - his - shirt and rubbing small circles into your hip before growing bored and moving onto another patch of untouched skin until there's nothing left to take. Lip hungry as he kisses away your words because every breath that isn't mixed with his is worthless. Perhaps it's a blessing that you need to take a proper breath because you're sure that Alhaitham would keep taking until there's nothing left. Disregarding how tightly your hands cling to him and refuse to let him stray too far away.
"Greedy."
"Pot meet kettle."
---
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What Do You Mean I'm The New Grand Sage?!
Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh x Grand Sage! Reader; separate, gender neutral
In some twisted turn of events, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself thought you are the best candidate for the position of the Akademiya's Grand Sage. From a Haravatat Researcher to soon running a whole region, how do you deal with this? And do the prodigal scholars approve of you?
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'It's been weeks now and there's still no proper Grand Sage.'
'If it were me, I would have fired the two remaining sages, they might scheme as revenge.'
'How can we trust the choices of the next Grand Sage anyways? What if history repeats itself?'
Despite the House of Daena being respectfully quiet with only murmurs and mumbles from the surrounding entourage, these unspoken words taunt and occupy the mind of the Dendro Archon as she takes into account all the thoughts of her people regarding the matter.
All the candidates for the Grand Sage and other sage positions, as well as the exceptional figures of each darshan (some of which are familiar to her) crowd around the table where the Lesser Lord situated herself.
Unfortunately, based on Nahida's standards, none of them qualify for the position.
"Lesser Lord Kusanali?" Opening her eyes, Nahida tilts her head to the Scribe situated on a seat next to her, a quill unused in his hand. "Is something the matter?"
"Just deep in thought." Crossing her arms, the god of wisdom would hum to herself as she tapped her chin. "For example, what would the new Grand Sage do once they get appointed?" And with that, she closed her eyes again.
As expected, more thoughts filtered through her mind as the audience took the bait and began pondering on the provoking question in their minds.
'Just do what the past Grand Sage did? Minus the evil? This is easy.'
'As a Grand Sage, I would probably fire all the personnel, they can't be trusted.'
'Cultivate wisdom and govern Sumeru as best as possible, right?'
'With the Lesser Lord in power, probably just answer to what she wants.'
'Hm, to what extent did Azar mess up the system anyways? It would definitely be good to fix the things that he deliberately abused as soon as possible, right? The unnecessary laws, look into the international affair decisions he's done too, he might have signed contracts that would be damaging to Sumeru in the long run -'
A hit! But an unfamiliar voice. Opening her eyes, the god of wisdom looked around the area to look for the voice to match a face.
"Are you looking for something, Lord Kusanali?" Cyno straightened up on his stance by her side as he watched the archon stand on her seat. The action urged him to scan the area too, albeit for different reasons.
'Why am I thinking about this right now? I should really hurry home -'
"Over there!" The crowd parts like the sea as everyone in the area turned towards someone in researcher garb. Which looks to be... drenched in water. Looking up from wringing the sleeves of your robe, you finally notice all the attention on you.
"Ah! Sorry about the mess, I fell in the fountain in front of -"
"You shall be the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."
The whole Akademiya seemed to have quieted down to the point that you could hear the individual droplets of water splatter from your hair on to the marble flooring of the House of Daena.
"Huh?"
And like catharsis, everyone exploded in exclamations of disbelief. Including you.
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"With their determination alone, their steadfast effort is enough to shape them to the right person to hold the title of Grand Sage."
With the absence of the Akasha Terminal and the person that holds records of documentations and research, Alhaitham was reasonably the person that people flocked towards for information about you. Despite the inconvenience, there are a lucky few that the Scribe entertained.
The male personally knows you as a Haravatat graduate who researched about the current civilization and quality of life of Sumeru in great detail, something that honored your name for being their darshan's most cited thesis. And when asked about your eligibility to be the next Grand Sage, he repeats those words, even when the archon herself asked.
After all, he himself had been privy to that determination. Your dedication to graduate and use your knowledge to create something worthwhile, beneficial, purposeful. A kind of vigor for knowledge so pure and immense that not even he remembers having the same amount of passion.
Even now as he pretends to be occupied with his book, he watches as you practically lay on the huge table for Azar the Grand Sage in exhaustion, Alhaitham was confident that your sighs results from your worry of finding the best solution.
He lowers his eyes back to the pages just in time with you finally lifting your head. "Alhaitham?" He pretends the small smile was out of politeness, not because you have yet to get accustomed to being entirely formal with him.
"Yes, Future Grand Sage?" Alhaitham masks his voiceless laugh with the book in his hand at the sight of you huffing, sputtering at the foreign title.
"Azar had you draft the gazette when he makes up a new law or order, right?" He nods, you grip your head as if you were having a headache, which is quite likely at this point. "If you don't mind, do you think you can give me a copy of all of the laws he created? And the meeting transcripts too?"
"That is certainly doable. However," you straightened up when Alhaitham stood across the table to stare you eye to eye, placing his book on your table. "That would be hundreds of documents to go through, are you sure you're able to utilize that amount for your perusing?"
The expression on your face showed that you haven't exactly accounted that part. But there it was, that flicker in your eyes that captures you so perfectly, the perseverance that had always kept you afloat. Now he can bare witness to it. "I'm sure."
Even if he didn't have to, Alhaitham stayed by your side the whole time, assisting you about certain laws and contexts if you ever needed it.
And when you fell asleep on the table after hours of reading, he immediately placed his cape on your shoulders, because you needed it.
Surprisingly enough, Alhaitham is the one who puts in a good word about your designation out of all of them.
What they're unaware of is that he's quite fond of you and your prestige, being in the same darshan had him subtly defending you from the rumors other darshans/candidates spread.
You should be grateful that you have Alhaitham as your Scribe. Not only is he meticulous and dedicated to his work, but he acts as your assistant with how closely related your positions are.
Perhaps his usefulness and help also stems with the fact that he was the most recommended candidate before he declined, and the knowledge he had honestly makes him look like your master and you his apprentice.
A lot of times, you end up comparing yourself to him when you feel like you're lacking.
Thankfully, Alhaitham's perceptive made him aware of your tells, and knows when you're having such thoughts. He would try to derail that train of thought immediately, subtly remind you of your progress, or straight up tell you you're wrong.
For such an emotionless co-worker, he sure does well with being your hypeman.
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"A lack of harmonious relationship with the archon, even with the people of Sumeru, became the downfall of Azar, . That level of respect is crucial in ensuring that history would not repeat itself."
As Lesser Lord Kusanali's main guardian, it was only logical that his beliefs about what the new grand sage should embody reflects that. And perhaps there were also some details that influenced his opinion, details that he would never elaborate on.
This isn't the first time he had been less receptive to the decisions of the archon (the first being the punishment of the Sages, if you can even call it that) but this one has more potential to go awry than any other.
His cold stare only grew colder, sharper, now that you've been assigned the highest seat in the Akademiya. You can tell his prejudices without him having to spell it out.
The harshest of glares usually happen when you request an audience with the god of wisdom, him always standing by her side in case you become hostile. Which is honestly quite a hilarious take - you? Harming a god? But with the history of the previous Grand Sage's you can't exactly call his fault.
In your case however, despite the stories of Cyno's job as the General Mahamatra, you never once feared the possibility of his judgment on you as an academic. After all, if you had done nothing bad, then you're out of his case, right? So as far as you know, this is your first time knowing about each other's presence.
Although, being nominated after you fell in the Akademiya's fountain and made a mess everywhere you walked certainly isn't the best first impression.
However, after one too many times you feel a chill up your spine yet see no one when you look around the area for a possible cause, you're starting to suspect that he may know you more than you know him.
"She's currently resting in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, don't -"
"Ah, no, I'm not here to ask about Lesser Lord Kusanali today." At your sheepish demeanor, Cyno opted to close his mouth and wait for your reason to approach him. So you continued. "I was actually hoping if you could accompany me to Aaru Village."
"The desert?" Why him?
"I've heard that you've been closely working with Lesser Lord Kusanali to rebuild the relations with the desert side of Sumeru." Your fidgeting made him notice the thick notebook tucked under your arm. "I wanted to ask questions about the details, as well as see for myself what else could be done."
There was a long pause of silence that passed by with you mostly avoiding looking into his eyes directly. Humbled but respectful. Cyno sighs. "You're not in proper attire to journey to the desert, nor do you have the proper equipment." Your gaze followed his retreating form until he stopped and looked over his shoulder to you. "Are you coming or what? Standing around does not count as preparing."
"Right! I'm on it!"
It was a long process, but you managed to convince Cyno of your worth, especially when it comes to your efforts to help the desert. He had seen it all himself and at this point he couldn't deny it any further.
Cyno would find his tailing to be out of security instead of suspicion, often times finding himself walking by your side as your protector whenever you had to go out. After all, you're still an important figure, your safety is high priority.
Soon, it would be you who he would go to concerning updates about the desert, hearing out your efforts for rehabilitation. Your desert internship program to help Setaria with her education efforts is by far his favorite.
Despite being the General Mahamatra, he found a bit of his job description changing: being the protector of the Dendro Archon and the new Grand Sage.
Whenever you have to cross to the desert to either talk with the village chief or negotiate with the Eremites, he would always find time in his schedule to be your escort.
Perhaps it was his mistake to doubt Alhaitham's judgment on this one. At the very least, Cyno became your ever reliable check-and-balance.
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"At the end of the day, well intentions are enough of a factor to understand the path one would trek no matter the adversaries."
Tighnari was positive that he wouldn't have to deal with the Akademiya anymore after Lesser Lord Kusanali, maybe even enjoy a more peaceful life in the forest now that the Withering had stopped spawning together with Eleazar disappearing.
But of course, the exiled sages just had to be dropped into his forest for their 'tap on the wrist' punishment. Perhaps that would be the end of the Akademiya pestering him now that there's no need to exploit him for some evil scheme.
Well, the world had never been to kind to the forest watcher, what would make this any different? The hybrid would sigh as he watched a group donning Akademiya robes approach Ghandarva Ville, none of which he's familiar with.
This is a larger group compared to the ones the previous sages trying to coerce him back to the city brought - now that he squints, there seem to be Corps of Thirsty members tailing the group, too. This doesn't bode well at all.
At least Cyno's there. "And what business do you have in Ghandarva Ville to cause such a ruckus so early in the day?" Straight to the point, Tighnari stares dryly at the person that seems to be in charge of the group.
However, at the sight of Cyno freezing up in his peripheral, the forest watcher immediately realized that this is unlike any other encounters he had dealt with. Unlike the arrogance of the other scholars and sages, he could see how you looked conflicted from speaking.
"Seeing as you don't look to be well-informed," ah there's the Akademiya scholar he expected. The researcher gestures to you. "The Future Grand Sage is here to see the exiled former sages in hopes to interview them about their previous positions."
He wants to bite back, he really does - why was he not informed beforehand? Why are there so many personnel with you? How sure are they that you are not trying to conspire with Azar? Why are YOU the next grand sage?
"Alright." And he will never admit the relief he felt when your despondent look immediately lifted at his response. "It's a bit of a walk from here. And being the person assigned to oversee their training, I would like to be there during the exchange too."
"Thank you." You cut off the arrogant spokesperson before he even uttered a single word of protest, presenting a bulky journal in your hand to the forest watcher. "I actually prepared a set of questions to ask that you could verify -"
Old habits die hard, and admittedly, Tighnari didn't want to treat you more than the people he works with everyday, the people around you can easily do that for him. But he refrained from letting any past prejudice cloud his judgment on your character: there is undoubtedly something different about you in comparison to the old sages, and he didn't want his attitude to change that.
One day during one of your many visits however, Tighnari may have spilled a bit about his discontent about the attention your entourage brings to his forest. Even with you next in charge, he still dislikes bringing the affairs of the Akademiya to the forest rangers' territory.
He thought his words was out of pocket when letters of notice regarding your arrival ceased. Did you get all the information you needed from the sages? Or was what he said finally drove you away? That wasn't at all his intentions.
One random encounter brought him answer when the suspicious cloaked figure waving at him from behind a tree turned out to be you. "You said you didn't want my personnel to come so I decided to visit discreetly from now on."
At least you were... considerate. Conversation came easy without multiple glares constantly stabbing him in the back, talking about your progress as well as the conditions of Ghandarva Ville on the way to the training area of the sages.
While he was wary and skeptical about your appointment despite his utmost trust in the dendro archon's judgment, Tighnari soon came to accept your honesty and determination.
That transparency and good-intended perseverance are what Azar lacked, but under your rule, perhaps Sumeru would really be in good hands now.
Tighnari leaned against the tree as he watched your passionate discussion with the previous Haravatat sage. Undeniably, you as you are now without the title, greatly reminds him of someone dear.
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"We've long realized that wisdom alone begets arrogance. Perhaps fixing the prejudices against the pursuit of art and whatever this and that Azar has gotten his grubby hands on should be first priority."
"Let me through! I must speak with them, this is important matter, too! If the new grand sage is really -"
Turning your head towards the commotion, your conversation with Alhaitham ended shortly as a tuft of blonde became visible from the sea of Mahamata's trying to keep him away from you.
Patting the imaginary dust off his sleeves, Kaveh would look into your baffled gaze with unyielding resolve. "I've heard you had been meticulously gathering the opinions of Sumeru and thought I could be of help."
"Exercise some tact, Kaveh, we're in the presence of the appointed Grand Sage here."
"I don't need your sass today, Scribe -"
"No, it's fine, Alhaitham. I was actually planning on talking to Kaveh at some point, anyways." Wait, you are? Kaveh dumbfoundedly asked as he watched you move a few books around to get to a worn out journal under the pile. "I assume you're here to represent the arts."
Besides the conversation, Kaveh insists he takes you out to the Bazaar and his magnum opus to properly showcase the culture. Alhaitham, who looked positively displeased of the impromptu outing, had to stay back to focus on documenting a new batch of submitted thesis.
It was endearing to see someone as passionate about change in Sumeru as you talk about the harmful acts Azar published against the Bazaar and the pursuit of arts. Well, what else can you expect from the Light of the Kshahrewar?
Talking to him about anything and everything felt like you were conversing with friends, a very vocal and expressive friend. Especially when you're introduced to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, something he looks at with both pride and regret.
"I am simply making sure that Alhaitham had not brainwashed you with his sense of morality. Knowing him, you won't gather such thoughts about the importance of arts from him."
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." You really were, after running around from here to both ends of Sumeru, you're very grateful that your source of info decided to come to you instead. "It's not an easy feat trying to undo 500 years worth of corruption."
"I can already see how Sumeru would be under your care." He flashes a genuine smile. "Thank you for hearing me out as well, future Grand Sage, I'm rooting for you. You're already doing much better than the previous Grand Sage."
It was a simple reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but when he finally sobered up from the feeling of elation, Kaveh can't help but scream to his pillow about how buddy-buddy he acted to THE FUTURE GRAND SAGE!
Kaveh offers a fresh perspective and a lighter, reassuring encouragement in comparison. Perhaps being the person who knows less of the details helped form a positive judgment.
Like Tighnari, he keeps a level-headed approach when it comes to your position, but less about respect and more on shared beliefs.
When it comes to efforts to rehabilitate certain areas, Kaveh is always quick to offer his guidance and opinion. He knows you trust him due to his honesty and genuine want for a better future for Sumeru.
He's also the type to casually waltz in to your office when he has a brilliant idea or important information to share. At this point, he's talked to you more than the new Kshahrewar sage - if he's so adamant to be heard, why didn't he accept the nomination?
Whenever he stumbles upon you when you're outside or he sees you pondering the giant orb™ in your office, he's quick to voice his concern and urge you to take a break.
His intentions recently are hard to read, but he really does believe in you, and he's not shy to voice that fact.
You just find yourself missing the quietness of your office before Alhaitham and Kaveh's banter in front of your table became commonplace.
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"The Akademiya and Sumeru as a whole would surely flourish under this new samsara if I were to lead it with you by my side."
Lesser Lord Kusanali gives a knowing look at the sight of you standing straight in the presence of the archon, opting to offer your seat (which she declined) and refusing to sit down as a sign of respect.
She didn't need to read your mind to know. "How have you been? I've heard from the others that you've been working really hard to prepare for your inauguration."
Conscious, you pulled at the grey sleeve signifying your position as the current sage of Haravatat. Admittedly, it was a little stiff and stuffy for you, thicker and more uncomfortable than your uniforms in the Akademiya as a scholar and researcher. You missed those times.
"I've gathered a lot of opinions and information about operating as a sage as well as the current matters of Sumeru." Nahida smiles widely at this, before her expression faltered when you still had a bothered look on your face.
As far as she knows, you've gathered all the resources you need, more than you need even. So why do you seem troubled still despite your meticulous preparation? "Is there something in your mind?"
"I don't - I respect your wisdom, I really do and I'm honored that you think of me this way. But I'm - is this really the right decision? Am I really fit for this?"
Oh, so it's about that! You looked up from your journal laying on the table at the sound of the dendro archon's giggles, not at all expecting that reaction. Was your question that laughable?
"Not at all, I'm just amazed that you haven't noticed." Floating over to where you stood, her tiny hands reached up to give you - head pats? Embarrassed but too scared to deny, you took the gesture. "Since that day, I was certain that there would be no other puzzle piece that would fit the position of Grand Sage other than you."
You part your lips to interject, but she was quicker.
"And besides, there are many who share my view. I'm not the only one who believes in you, and you will see it for yourself when the time comes."
"When the time comes?" Holding on to your hand, Nahida starts pulling you towards the elevator and out of the House of Daena. Only when you reached the double doors of the Akademiya did she finally let go.
"You have these doubts because you are a good person, (Y/N). And even then, your own thoughts cloud your mind from seeing that the only person that doubts you now," Nahida would gesture towards the door. "Is you."
Looking back and forth between the entrance and Nahida's encouraging smile, you took a deep breath before pushing open the door -
Only to be met by a roar of cheers and explosion of applause.
Your fellow Sages, Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, even Tighnari (with his ears pressed down) stood near the entrance with smiles of their own. But looking past the Akademiya staff and scholars, a crowd made up of Sumeru citizens from Port Ormos, the Bazaar, Ghandarva Ville, and even Aaru Village occupy the platform and every inch of the paths going up and down the Divine Tree.
Their collective chants mixed together to convey their utmost respect and belief in you.
"Every single one of them are here to root for you," turning to your side, Nahida stood next to you with a gray hat cradled on her palms. "Grand Sage."
Biting your lip to stop a big wobbly grin, you finally let out a relieved sigh as you kneeled in front of the god of wisdom, closing your eyes as she walked forward to place the hat of the Grand Sage on your head.
"People of Sumeru, may I present to you the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."
The overwhelming amount of support from everyone made you take off your monocle to rub at your eyes.
And when your biggest supporters stepped forward to congratulate you, everything felt just right.
You got this.
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Can't believe my random idea got written first lmaao alright we're in the good feels arc now
@ireallylikehamsters
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The blue eye of the Seated Scribe. Quartz crystal, with an ebony iris. Department of Egyptian Antiquities (circa 3800-1710 BC) Louvre Museum :: [Guillaume Gris]
* * * *
“I put my hand on the altar rail. 'What if ... what if Heaven is real, but only in moments? Like a glass of water on a hot day when you're dying of thirst, or when someone's nice to you for no reason, or ...' Mam's pancakes with Toblerone sauce; Dad dashing up from the bar just to tell me, 'Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite'; or Jacko and Sharon singing 'For She's A Squishy Marshmallow' instead of 'For She's A Jolly Good Fellow' every single birthday and wetting themselves even though it's not at all funny; and Brendan giving his old record player to me instead of one of his mates. 'S'pose Heaven's not like a painting that's just hanging there for ever, but more like ... Like the best song anyone ever wrote, but a song you only catch in snatches, while you're alive, from passing cars, or ... upstairs windows when you're lost ...”
― David Mitchell, The Bone Clocks
[alive on all channels]
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versadies · 1 year
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next time (alhaitham x gn!reader)
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SALUTATIONS. next time
ADDRESSED. alhaitham (w/gn!reader)
STAMP. in which you feel distant from your lover, who busied himself with the akademiya for reasons you’re unsure of until it’s too late. (loosely based on tightrope from the greatest showman)
CONTENT. angst/no-comfort, spoilers to sumeru archon quest (3.2), neglect, hint of kidnapping, hint of violence, azar is a bad person as always, grammar errors, ooc!alhaitham (this was written b4 3.4 was released)
POST-SCRIPT. alhaitham didnt come home so i decided to post this questionable fic and prolly plan to make a series about him out of pure pettiness. enjoy. (will make a part two soon and its him groveling <33)
LINKS. masterlist \ taglist \ part two
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How long has it been since you’ve last been with your lover?
You could hardly recall, and you’re afraid to admit that you’ve given up trying to. Despite residing in Alhaitham’s place for months, it feels as if there’s a wall between you two.
Whether or not it’s Alhaitham’s wall or yours, you could not find a hammer to break it.
It started a month ago – you feel a bit saddened when you realized how long this went on – when he started acting weird.
He started being a little late than usual, staying in his office all day until he realizes that it’s 3 am or such, would only hum in response whenever you say “I love you” to him, refusing to come to bed until he’s done with his work in his office, only taking a few bites of his breakfast that you took time and effort to make for him before rushing out to go to the Akademiya — sometimes he wouldn’t even say his farewells to you — and come back for only Celestia knows when,
And the very thing you noticed most from this recent change: he stopped reaching out to you.
Of course, he’s willing to talk to you when you speak to him first, but his responses were rather short and swift, as though he wanted to get this conversation to be over and do other things.
When you asked Alhaitham why he’s always away these days, he claims he’s been in the Akademiya fixing something, and that was the end of your conversation.
You knew he was lying though.
In reality, he hasn’t actually been as in touch with the Akademiya as he was before due to a “mission” assigned to him by the Grand Sage, something you found out from the General Mahamatra, Cyno.
You understand that your lover had to keep secrets from you as some of his business with the Akademiya are confidential, but you just wished that he took the time to reassure you that this is just him being busy and not something that will go on forever.
“I’ll see you later.” He says, standing up from his seat before coming towards the front door without as much as a goodbye kiss. He always made sure to give you a kiss before he leaves, he claims it’s good luck.
You didn’t utter a response to him, nor did you bother finishing your meal anymore. It seems you’ve lost your touch if you could no longer find yourself eating your favorite dish that you’ve loved for so long.
You’re thankful Kaveh, your dearest best friend and your lover’s roommate, is away in the Akademiya at the moment. If he were still here eating breakfast with you at this very moment, he would’ve noticed the way your form has been trembling ever so slightly from thinking too much of what’s going on between your relationship.
You could already imagine what he’d say if he were here.
“What did that brainless buffoon do again?” Kaveh would say in an angry tone, yet his eyes show concern towards you. “Just say the word and he’ll have to deal with me, I got you.”
Nothing, you’d say. He’s just… far.
So far, so out of reach.
You always tell yourself that Alhaitham’s simply just too busy from his projects in the Akademiya these days – he’s the Scribe after all – but this is Alhaitham, the same man who you’ve worked out with about making time for your relationship and each other’s works, the same man who’d always spare time for you even when he’s as busy as he can be and the one who would always hear you out when you call for him.
He’s a man of many things, but never one who’d ignore his own lover and act as though they’re nothing but a stranger — not without warning in advance about it, that is (which never happened at all, mind you).
You then thought that you must’ve said something that upsets him, but you could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a conflict, nor could you recall what you said that could have offended him. Besides that, he wasn’t one to ignore you for such a reason.
So… what was it? What was the one thing that made your relationship as it is now?
Was it… you?
You accidentally let go of the plate you’re washing as a result of that thought, the sound causes your thoughts to cease for just a moment.
Surely, if there really was something wrong, he’d tell you… right?
You then decided that it’s time for you to try and reach out to him once more and hope that this time he’d listen to you.
The day was nothing but a blur, and fortunate enough, your lover came home early for the first time just as you were about to lie down on your shared bed.
“Alhaitham…?” You called out his name softly, looking at the doorway to see him. “You’re home..”
He glances at your way with an unexplainable look on his face. “Were you expecting me?”
You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?” Just this once, please talk to me.
He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself.
“…” He thinks for a moment.
Just as you’re about to ask if there’s something bothering him, he lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction.
“Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”
Your eyes widens for a bit, wanting to ask him to stay–
But he’s busy… He’s too busy with matters that are more important than you. You thought to yourself bitterly, stopping yourself from reaching out to him once more.
There’s always next time… Whenever that may be.
“...Very well. Goodnight, Alhaitham.” You said quietly, tucking yourself in your bed as your back faces his direction. You didn’t notice how he finally looked back at you with a longing look on his face, only to walk away towards his office without another word.
Next time ( Name ). Alhaitham thought with a soft sigh. I’ll come back to you as soon as I get rid of the Akademiya’s schemes.
He just needs time to execute said plan.
Currently, everything goes according to plan.
Soon enough, Lesser Lord Kusanali will be free and ( Name ) can be safe when Azar gets punished. Alhaitham thought as Azar continued on talking about how he knew Alhaitham’s plan all along.
“...Heh, you'll see me as a traitor regardless of what I say, no?” The scribe said, crossing his arms. “Even if you impugned me, it would have little effect on you all.”
Azar shakes his head. “You misunderstand. Losing our Scribe would irreparably damage the Akademiya's regular operations and the development of Sumeru's future academic systems…” Something flashes through the Grand Sage’s eyes, his lips twitching upwards. “For that reason, it’s for the best if someone does it on your behalf.”
The scribe almost lost his breath for a second.
He narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly are you implying?”
Azar lets out an amused huff. “You know exactly what I’m implying, scribe.”
The scribe dared not to think of the worst, until the next words that left the Grand Sage’s mouth almost made his facade falter.
“Your lover is quite an exceptional person and fought well for someone who doesn’t wield a vision, but it was all for naught it seems.” He can’t help but chuckle to himself. “It’s just a shame that they have to pay the price for your betrayal.”
“Lover? You have a lover, Alhaitham?” Paimon whispered, shocked at the turn of events. This wasn’t a part of the plan at all!
Meanwhile, Alhaitham slowly starts regretting not taking you with him from the beginning. He should’ve been more attentive, he should’ve warned you about the Akademiya instead of being so focused on the plan to the point where he’s basically neglecting you, he should’ve taken you to Aaru Village instead of leaving you–!
It was only then when Alhaitham realized his mistake.
This mistake isn’t something that’s from the mission, but it involves something that’s more important than this plan,
He made the mistake of unintentionally neglecting you.
Suddenly, he remembers his last conversation with you.
You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?”
He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself. He wanted nothing more than to drop everything and listen to what you have to say, but he knew he needed to prioritize the mission to save Lesser Lord Kusanali, not when he has to go back to Aaru Village to talk about the plan with everyone tomorrow.
He lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction. “Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”
If only he knew there wasn’t a next time after that.
Alhaitham tries to compose himself. “You said that I betrayed the Akademiya, but you, Azar... You've betrayed all of Sumeru, betrayed its archon!” He said.
Just you wait, ( Name ). I will make up everything once I come for you, wherever you may be.
Azar remains composed. “Hmph, so flight has turned to fight at long last. Guards!”
The scribe notices how all the guards position themselves, pointing their weapons at him and his allies. He just needs to finish this swiftly so he’ll be able to focus on finding you.
He lets out a deep breath before he begins the next phase of his plan.
I just need to deal with those who dared to lay a hand on you before I find you, ( Name ).
part two
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PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing
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hikari3601 · 10 months
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We’ll be a Fine Line
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Home page
Pairing | Al Haitham x Reader
Author’s Note | I’m really sorry for the super long wait.
CW/TW | Al Haitham’s mean :(
Synopsis | Flinching away from him during an argument.
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The line between distance and disregard is a fine one, something that Al Haitham seemed to have overlooked. The Scribe -who lives off of rationality as if it were air, found that space seemed to be the most efficient means towards a peaceful resolution during conflict, yet it all turned sour somewhere down the line and worst of all, its toxicity was so steadily progressive that it only became noticeable when it was nigh impossible to ignore it.
Several arguments had passed without any form of resolution and with every person in the Academia five seconds away from an aneurysm, as Acting Grand, Sage Al Haitham was not in the best of moods.
~~
“Haitham.” You called from behind the door, patiently waiting with his lunch in hand, yet silence was all that ensued in the following moments, thus you called again, a little louder this time…still nothing.
Deciding to try your luck at entering you turned the handle, perhaps he had an errand to run and was out for a bit, you thought.
Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and lo and behold sat Al Haitham at his desk, hair slightly tousled and his cape laying on the couch. He looked up at you questioningly. “Can I help you Y/N?”
“I knocked to see if you were in.” You explained, “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
He remained unmoving for several seconds, his eyes trained on the papers in front of him and after he placed the page down he allowed his gaze to briefly flicker towards you. “I heard it.”
Taking a few steps towards into the office, you took note of the cold atmosphere surrounding him but decided against commenting. “Why didn’t you answer?” You asked instead, placing his favourite meal on his desk.
“I was busy.” He deadpanned, eyes glued on the new page in front of him.
Your gaze drifted across his large frame, “When was the last time you slept?” You inquired, noting the dark circles on the skin surrounding his turquoise eyes.
“I took a little nap some few hours ago.”
A frown took form on your lips. “A nap in your office doesn’t count. When was the last time you got over five hours of sleep in your bed.” You urged, your frustration growing at his dismissive attitude.
He sighed, laying his papers on his desk with a loud ‘slap’ and looking up at you with a slight glare. “What is it you came for Y/N, unlike you I’m busy.”
“I’m here to check up on you Al Haitham.” You felt your aggravation grow in spite of your efforts to remain level-headed. “You’ve been working non stop and I’m worried about you.”
“Well, as you can see Y/N I’m perfectly well. Now, if you would kindly leave my office—“
“Why are you being like this?” You finally sighed, your patience beginning to waver.
“Because I have work to do. I don’t have time to laze around with you.”
“Laze around with me?” You echoed. “I may not be the Acting Grand Sage, Al Haitham, but that doesn’t mean I’m not working. I stop what I’m doing every day just to see if you’re alright…because Archons know that if I don’t, you’d be skipping meals daily!”
“I’m not some child Y/N, I don’t need you to look after me, now if you would please leave my office, I’m wasting time with this discussion.”
“How on earth do you think it’s right to treat people like this?” You snapped, the festering heat in your chest reaching its peak. “I’m worried about you because I care!”
“If you really cared…” He rose from his seat, approaching you with a steadiness that left you uneasy. “you would have left Y/N instead of wasting my time!”
His last words echoed throughout the room, but what was truly deafening to the man was your reaction —the way you stepped away from him as if preparing to flee.
Groaning at his actions, he lifted a hand to his already dishevelled hair in a poor attempt to calm his racing mind but watched in horror as you flinched.
Disgust soon washed over him like a tidal wave.
You thought he would hurt you?
Archons, he did hurt you… though not physically. It dawned on him that he had been treating you abrasively for the last few months, yet you still remained nothing short of kind and patient towards him.
He didn’t deserve you, he thought, yet a part of him selfishly feared that you’d leave him after today.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed, and although his voice had grown soft, his eyes trembled with unspoken words of guilt and regret, the sight stubbornly pulling at your heart until you bridged the gap between the two of you and quietly took him into your arms.
He hesitated to reciprocate, worried that he’d cause you more alarm, but all it took was you tightening your hold around his torso for him to wrap his arms around you, settling his head against the crook of your neck.
“I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m sorry.”
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2K notes · View notes
vivalabunbun · 1 year
Text
Overdue Books and Ghost Stories
Summary: If the scholars at the Akademiya are so smart, why can’t they remember a few due dates? 
Word Count: 6.4K
Tags: Alhaithamx GN! Reader, Shy! Reader (you hate eye contact), Librarian! Reader, Fluff, SFW, attempts at humor, pure fluff, written before 3.6 so Alhaitham is still acting grand sage, slowish burn?, Akademiya setting, slight mutual pining, Sumeru boys drive the librarian insane, especially a certain gray-haired bookworm. 
Authors note: I just wanted something light-hearted and fun to write as a reward for getting stuff done. Shy people who force themselves to be responsible and hate eye contact unite! Enjoy!
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He’s being followed. 
Alhaitham can feel the fleeting presence lingering just a few seconds behind him.
The warm late afternoon breeze caressing through his grey locks, his cape trailing behind, and belt clattering with each fluid step. Teal-orange eyes faced forward towards the hectic stall-lined streets, but his attention was focused on the ghost that trails him from behind. 
Every merge into the crowded pathways lined with vendors, every sharp turn down hidden allies, every street he circles back on, the traces linger like a dream fleeting from the memories of deep sleep.
He can’t allow a ghost to accompany him home, lest it decides to haunt the house. 
Alhaitham had wasted enough time walking in aimless circles, if he can’t throw off the ghost, he concludes he must exorcise it. 
Long legs pivot into an alley confined by stone walls and empty of shouting merchants and haggling shoppers. One, two, three slow strides towards the pale dead end that faced him. 
“I know you’re there. Might as well stop with the games.” 
Ghosts don’t exist outside tales told to innocent children to keep them tucked tightly under the covers. However, the iniquitous villains that terrorize the plot do, and they’re known as humans. 
Were they going to fight or flee? 
The presence behind Alhaitham finally materialized into something more than a fleeting dream. He glanced over his shoulder, hand ready to summon his sword. Behind him stood an unassuming figure, with no sensible ill intentions, their hands up as a sign of surrender.
Eyes adverted elsewhere like a child caught trying to sneak one more piece of candied Ajilenakh Nut. 
The viridescent robe that enveloped your figure paired with the matching barrette, there’s no mistaking your identity. Another scholar from the Akademiya, great. 
With power comes prestige, two notions Alhaitham couldn’t care less for. He was more than satisfied as a simple Scribe filing away applications in the archives away from searching eyes.
Those days were a luxury stolen from him by the title of “Acting Grand Sage”. 
Now it wasn’t an uncommon sight for some researcher to come floundering through the crowded halls of the institution towards the ashen-haired man. From time to time there would be the bold student, agglutinating to his side with their wasted attempts at a conversation.
With great power comes great inconveniences. 
Inconveniences that unabashedly believed their polite smiles could divert his teal gaze away from the insincerity. That offering a cup of coffee along with a rehearsed elevator pitch could sow the seeds of a superficial bridge.
One where they’d walk across with forms awaiting a signature along dotted lines or a towards a potential high seat at the Akademiya.
Their desire for this absent bridge coerced them to shallow down their pride, spurring this fruitless endeavor despite the Acting Grand Sage’s indifference and unreturned interest in small talk.
First, he was pressured into taking a position he didn’t want, then he became the target of people’s irrelevant aspirations, and most damning of it all even his privacy’s being invaded. To put it frankly, Alhaitham’s tired of it all.
Surely, it couldn’t take this long for the great institution of wisdom to select another leader, when can he finally stop this sham act?
“I’m off the clock, come find me on the next working day.” He’d prefer it if you didn’t. 
The frigidness of his words with their thinly veiled politeness didn’t cause a single muscle of yours to budge. 
“The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has been overdue for 6 weeks now, please return it to the House of Daena immediately.” A hand extended out in front of you, open and expecting. 
No introduction, no chivalrous greeting, no frivolous small talk. Alhaitham certainly wasn’t expecting this from the strange ghost that stalked him. 
Oh, so that’s where your eyes were. Honing in solely on the book currently clutched by his hip. One of the many books he signed out of the House Daena on a whim, simple academic works to stimulate his mind during the respite between busybodies and paperwork.
One he then promptly cast to the side by the beckoning of a journal from the restricted access collection. Only after a pile of files was removed from his desk that his eyes rediscovered the title. 
“I understand, I shall promptly return it by the end of the next work day.” 
“No, a student has requested this title for a week now, after they’re done with it, you may sign it out again.” Voice firm and steady as you gestured for the book to be returned to your hand. 
No. An unfamiliar word spoken in a tone now foreign to the towering man.
His keen eyes observed your homogeneous uniform of standard greens and gold, you must be a regular librarian employed by the Akademiya. The Akademiya currently under his jurisdiction.
How bold of you, or has this job already drained you of all sense of self-preservation? 
Regardless, your statement wasn’t without merit. The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium doesn’t belong to him, and who was he to inconvenience a standard employee this Wednesday afternoon?
It wouldn’t serve him any benefit to be in the ire of a librarian, Alhaitham concludes it would be wise to just surrender the book. So he relinquished it.
From your pocket, your other hand produced a slip of parchment. 
“Here is the late fee, please address the payment to the House of Daena by next Wednesday.” 
Instead of offering the Acting Grand Sage a cup of coffee, you offered him a fine in exchange for confiscating his book.
With a slight bow, the ghost was exorcised, ambling back into the busy streets of Sumeru City until your back disappears from his teal eyes. 
Alhaitham was left with no introduction, no coffee, and no book to spend the evening with. Even still, his mind has found something else to ponder about to pass the time.
Alhaitham slowly rejoins the buzzing city streets, the chattering voices carried by the cool breeze that rustled his cape and made his ash locks brush his cheeks. 
‘How refreshing,’ he thought. 
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 When the current Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya was announced most people never heard his name before. Have they ever shared a class together? Were they ever in a group research project together? How could someone so brilliant escape the eyes of eager upstarts?
They could’ve had a prominent headstart in their careers if they’d built those bridges all those years back. 
To be fair, you would’ve fallen into the clueless demographic as well. Were the two of you in the same graduating class? If your job didn’t require you to check the library ledgers every day, his name would’ve eluded you.
Even with a brisk thumbing through of the ledgers, it’s hard to miss the repetition printed on the pages. 
Alhaitham was a regular name to be found in the library ledgers, you’d even argue he’s the biggest patron of the House of Daena. 
However, it wasn’t the only pattern that would jump out to even the blindest man in Teyvat. What would be printed next to each book signed out by Alhaitham? Overdue.
Yes, you would think a man brilliant enough to plan the greatest insurrection in Sumeru’s history could remember a few due dates. But the ledgers refute that impression. 
Before, the Scribe turned Grand Sage would simply return the books 1 or 2 weeks overdue and pay the fee at the same time.
Was it due to the increased responsibilities that now befell him or the increased financial freedom granted by a bigger paycheck that caused this pattern of extended tardiness? 
Regardless, The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has returned back to the House of Daena, much to the delight of a hysterical student who pushed off a paper for a bit too long.
That Wednesday afternoon was the first time you spoke to the mysterious man of infamy, in an alleyway tucked away from prying eyes. He gave you the book without much of a fight and accepted the punishment without complaint. 
If only it was always this easy. 
First impression overall? The whispers in the halls were an inaccurate depiction of Alhaitham. To you at least, he was a rather tolerable man with a good sense of regulations, handsome hands too.
Was your first impression bad? Impudent even? Script rushed by the pounding metronome of your heart, skipping over a few key sentences, like an introduction. 
Oh, you also forgot to call him Grand Sage… Surely he won’t hold such a petty grudge over that, he seems sensible.  
You flipped through the library ledgers one last time before your duties ended for the day, stopping on a page as you pursed your lip at the familiar name next to The Critique of Pure Reason boldly stamped overdue. 
If only the Grand Sage would fix this sloppy habit of his. 
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Alhaitham is very much aware of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, the frequency illusion. The tendency to notice something more often after noticing it for the first time. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact inception of this phenomenon he was experiencing, a certain meeting in an alleyway. 
“General Mahamatra,” A distinct cadence enticed the Ashen-haired man’s focus away from the matra delivering his daily report. 
There’s a hush that befell the halls of the Akademiya today, no reason to speculate, it’d obvious to even the dimmest of fools. Cyno, the General Mahamatra, returned today from the sandy wastelands. 
In fact, Alhaitham had just concluded his brief discussion with the electro wielder a few moments prior. The General left the paperwork delivery to the woefully ignored matra currently in front of the dendro wielder. 
The faint reverberation of the dreaded title paralyzed the few scholars and researchers that dared roam the in presence of the General. Intense scarlet eyes centered on the viridescent clad librarian that called, your eyes seemed occupied with the object encased by tan fingers. 
“Law and Order of the Pursuit of Wisdom is overdue.” A steady cadence incited the General. 
“By how long?” Spoke an authoritarian tone. 
“8 weeks, General.” There wasn’t the slightest pause from you. 
The dense tension within the enclosed space was palpable, many pairs of eyes fixed on the scene happening under these fluorescent lights.
The seconds counting down to the decisive moment, what will become of the incautious librarian after this show-down? 
“My apologies, I should’ve returned the book before I embarked, may I pay the fee now?” The treacherous edge was absent from the general’s voice. 
With a swift nod, you turned on your heel, leading the General Mahamatra toward the judgment awaiting him in the House of Daena. A sight so flipped on its head, the witnesses of this event couldn’t seem to decide which direction was up anymore.
“Mr. Kaveh.” 
A librarian intercepted a certain famed architect’s search for a certain Grand Sage evading the responsibilities piling up on a polished desk.
A spectacle was certainly about to happen in the House of Daena, Alhaitham gathers from his position just covered by a towering bookshelf. 
“Oh, yes?” The furrow between blond eyebrows dissipates in an instant, his fury distracted for now by the polite use of his name. 
“Were you the one to sign out The Death and Life of Great Design, Mr. Kaveh?” You held out the title in question, holy text for every architecture, your impassive eyes trained on the cover. 
“That’s correct, I’m certain I returned it in time, has anything arisen?” The light of Kshahrewar raised a brow at the sudden inquiry.
“Would you mind explaining this, Mr. Kaveh?” 
The book was pried open, revealing to the world the chaotic collage of jumbled words and sketches haphazardly scribbled among the print with the faintest whiff of wine.
Even from this distance, the bold vandalism was observable to his teal eyes. So was the slackened jaw of the architect with his now saucer-sized eyes. 
The closest equivalent Alhaitham could compare your current expression with was a parent’s gaze toward the discovery of a crayon mural on a wall. Three pairs of eyes observing the blatant defacement of literature. 
“The replacement cost of this book is 141,471 mora, it was an antique print.” Your hands gingerly shut the covers, hiding the book’s shame away. 
 “H-how much??” 
“I’ve written the amount down on this form, please address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of this month, Mr. Kaveh.” From your pocket, you presented the blonde with a fine that exacerbated his dreadful finances. 
With this, your performance concluded, a mannered bow before swiveling back to your post at the library’s front desk. Leaving the famed Kaveh silent and color absent from his face, the slip of parchment pathetically pinched between ailing fingers. 
Stepping back into the shadow of the shelves, Alhaitham reaches a hand up to enable the feature of his earphones that preserves his sanity. He already had a premonition of what was to greet him, might as well enjoy the fleeting moments of silence while it lasted. 
The sky over Sumeru was a brilliant blue, tufts of fluffy clouds cushioned the earth from the harshest rays of the sun, but not enough to embargo the comforting warmth. It’d be a shame to throw away such beautiful weather in the confines of an office.
Enough justification for Alhaitham to enjoy a quiet reading session under a hidden pavilion, just to the side of a neglected pathway at the Akademiya. 
Just because a place is neglected, it doesn’t mean it’s completely abandoned. The scurrying of two sets of steps made their presence known along the uneven path. 
“Please return Handbook of Qualitative Research to the House of Daena,” your stony voice perked his ears. 
Those words weren’t directed towards the unseen Acting Grand Sage, no, they were addressed towards the researcher whom you were just a few seconds behind. Impassive gaze concentrated on the overdue book in his arms. 
The exasperated man huffed out a breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his dry eyes drooping under the weight of the discolored skin hanging under them. Alhaitham hypothesizes that this must have gone on for a while. 
“Listen, I know it’s overdue, I promise to return it once this report is finished.” The researcher tries to quicken his strides. 
“No, it’s late 4 weeks now, please hand over the book.” That signature gesture made its appearance, palms open and expecting, your pace never once faltering. 
“Could you please make an exception, just this once?” Tired exasperation morphing into a sharper edge. 
“There are three other patrons queuing for this book, I’ll add you to the list and notify you once the title is available again.” Indifferent eyes never once left the imprisoned book. 
Ah, your words became the straw that broke the Sumpter Beast’s back.
“Three? THREE??! I don’t have the time! If they’re students they can wait, this project has dragged out for months, months! It’s only now drawing to a close, oh for the love of Lesser Lord Kusanali, just let me-”
Fatigue overboiled into raw frustration, the researcher now lively as ever, moved senselessly close to your face. 
One boot-clad step makes its appearance from behind a pillar. It’d be best to de-escalate the situation now before the potential for a physical alteration manifests into reality.
Especially for a librarian that’s too focused on a book to recognize the looming threat. As Acting Grand Sage, maintaining order was the priority.  
Instantaneously, a lone finger shot out towards the azure sky, with it followed the wearied eyes of a man mid-manifesto. The hypnotically soothing hue of the vast space momentarily ceased the researcher’s grievance, reminding him of the bigger picture, of the bigger world. 
Bringing him comfort with the realization that these sleepless nights won’t be permanent, that this too shall pass. 
Was that the goal of your diversion? Probably not. Regardless, the hostage has been rescued into your secure arms, back where the book belonged.
The view of the sky must’ve reminded the researcher’s body of its limit, as his movements faltered back sluggishly. Bloodshot eyes blinking at his now empty hands. 
“Please address the payment to the House of Daena by next week.” A slip of parchment produced from your pocket fills that void for him. 
Without another word, the librarian trekked back up the beaten path, leaving behind two very silent men. With only the researcher’s figure left in sight, Alhaitham’s mind quickly lost interest.
Withdrawing back behind the cover of the marble pillar, he couldn’t help but recount the details. 
‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’. All names coined by the sleep-deprived minds of slouching students and destitute scholars awaiting the saving grace that was their paycheck. 
Perhaps it’s that inorganic cadence of your voice. Or how one of your hands reaches out to demand the return of printed works while the other indited the transgressors with a note worth months of coffee.
Maybe it’s the focus of your catatonic gaze solely upon the books in question, denying wrongdoers a chance of mercy formed by eye contact. 
An itch tickled the back of Alhaitham’s throat, the same sensation that tugged the corner of his lips upwards towards the brilliant sky.
How did such a fascinating individual slip away from under his nose for so long? 
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Almost there, just a little longer, the doors to the House of Daena came into view, you’re so close to reprieve. One hand still clutching the freshly recused book against your chest, you pried the door to the staff room open. Empty.
Thank the Archons. 
Ducking into the sanctuary devoid of library patrons and chattering coworkers, sealing the solid wood behind your back, you could finally breathe.
Lungs burning for the taste of oxygen again, the pounding in your chest subsiding with each greedy gulp. Drained figure finding solstice against the sturdy door.
You achieved your goal, so why were you so defeated? 
His eyes got close, dangerously close. In your peripheral, the puffiness of his eye bags were in full detail. Your lids shut firmly as if shutting out the intrusive thoughts that threatened to infiltrate your mind.
It’s fine, everything is fine, your eyes never met. There’s no arrow in the back of your heel, the script has not gone off course. 
What a childish Achilles heel, eye contact, the most basic requirement for a conversation between peers and people. One you can’t fulfill. Even the briefest moment of connection will crumble the mask you dawn, exposing the puny coward to the world.
One look and you’ll be thrown off script, your career’s saving grace. 
Book overdue?: “Please return [Title] and address the late fee payment to the House of Danea by next week.” 
Damages?: “Please compensate the House of Daena for the damages done to [Title] by next month.”
Need a book that isn’t available?: “I’ll add your name to the waitlist for [Title] and inform you when it’s returned.” 
Lines rehearsed time and time again, now ingrained into your tongue, spoken by instinct. It’s not a conversation, it’s merely a stage play, performed by a coward shielded by a crafted blanket of indifference. 
‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’.
Better that they interpret your aversion to eye contact as malice instead of cowardice. After all, the world is not kind, especially not towards the meek. Papers and delegated responsibilities suddenly thrust upon those too shy to voice their dismay. 
What could the meek do? Nothing. So they’ll silently grit their teeth and bare it all as a doormat trampled by those whose voices don’t stumble and shutter. 
A scheme you’ve fell victim to time and time again within the walls of this hallow institute of knowledge. An experience under oath by oneself to never repeat again.
The intermission is over, the performer must return back to their positions. You unlatched the door, stepping back into the fluorescent lights of the House of Daena. 
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Alhaitham is aware of the frequency illusion, however, he’d argue that it’s no longer an illusion. The ghost has come back to haunt him. For what reason? Alhaitham’s not sure. Surely his books aren’t that overdue, and if they were then why hasn’t your hand appeared in front of him? 
Instead, you left traces, whispers of your presence in the form of handkerchiefs and pressed flowers on slips of paper.
The evidence found beside the Acting Grande Sage’s lunches and piles of applications, his teal eyes always just catching the briefest viridescent wisp fleeing the scene of the crime. 
The ashen-haired man finds great delight in abstruse books, the rare feeling of reading a line more than once to grasp the concepts formed on the page.
He enjoys the sporadic occurrences that challenge his sharp mind, it’s good to feel fresh thoughts run through. 
Has Alhaitham found an archaic journal tucked away in some dusty corner? Perhaps he found a handwritten copy of a book, one with fewer than ten in existence. Was it a long-forgotten text that challenged contemporary beliefs?
Surely, to baffle the man known as Alhaitham, the scripts must have something reality-shattering. Like something saying that the azure sky, with its moon and sun, were nothing but mere imitations.   
No. It wasn’t any print signed out from the restricted collection in the House of Daena that had Alhaitham’s mind pondering the slightest nuances. It was the librarian, currently penning his name down in the ledgers, that perplexed the towering man. 
Humans are flawed in the sense that they’re uncomfortable with the concept of ‘unconditionality’. Everything has a fair price and equivalent exchange. One back was scratched in return for the same. So, what did you want? 
Were you trying to form a bridge? One crafted from slips of paper and thin decorative fabric? If so, then why has your introduction yet to reach his ears? 
The eyes are the window to the soul. Windows that offer indispensable insight into the other person’s agenda and convictions. For the Acting Grand Sage, it’s easier for him to gain access to the restricted vaults in the House of Daena than the librarian’s eyes. 
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Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is a menace? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 
Could it be the nagging of Kshahrewar students, whining over the unavailability of their holy text, that made you hypersensitive to the treatment of printed works? 
The students should direct their grievances towards the ‘light’ of their Darshan, the one that defaced their holy text. You’re a librarian, not a magician you can’t make books appear from the abyss. 
It was a coincidence to witness the Grand Sage, Alhaitham, enjoying a shawarma wrap under the shade of a stained-glass pavilion. There’s nothing wrong with a man just having his lunch. However, there was something very wrong with how his other hand held a book.
Paper becomes discolored in the stained area and transparent as molecules of oil fill the spaces between cellulose fibers. Over time, the parchment will become brown and brittle, the ink lifted by the fatty acids. 
But what can you do? Interrupt the Grand Sage’s lunch? Lecture a superior on proper book care procedures? 
You’re not dense. 
Still, you could take some preventative measures. Done in the form of a handkerchief carefully folded just behind his right shoulder. He seemed too engrossed in the text to perceive your proximity to him. It was just for a few seconds anyways. You retreated. 
The next incident happened within the wall of the House of Daena, where food and drinks were strictly forbidden. It was a slow day, with nothing much to do besides returning a few books back to their proper homes along the hundreds of shelves. 
During one of the many trips pushing the cart back and forth along the path, a certain head of ashen hair with teal streaks fell into your peripheral. It must be a slow day for him too. The Grand Sage certainly made himself comfortable, desk piled with stacks of books strewn about. 
The purse on your lips returns as one side of your cheek is sucked in. A few of the books were opened and placed paper-side down on the smooth table. You witnessed him losing interest in his current text, letting it join the spread bodies of its fellow brethren. 
Laying a book face-down breaks the binding and weakens the hinges, where the covers attach to the pages. Some of those titles have existed for more than double your combined ages, think of their poor spines. 
Out of pity for the aged scripts and for your own patience, while passing his table from a pocket you slipped out a clumsily made bookmark.
Fashioned from scrap paper, craft supplies, and one of the many Sumeru Roses that dotted the paths in this nation. A new hobby of yours that’s proven itself useful. 
With your duty fulfilled you returned back among the towering shelves. 
The job of a Grand Sage is demanding, much more demand than the job description of a librarian, you understood that. However, surely there are enough hours in the day for him to have lunch and read separately. 
The position of Grand Sage means he often has to determine the best policies and actions. So why can’t he read one book at a time, close it properly, then pick up the next? 
Being the Grand Sage must be time-consuming and hectic, but he could at least send someone to return his books before the due date. 
How many handkerchiefs did you purchase in the last month alone? How many yards of decorative string? Is it possible to make the Sumeru Rose endangered? Would it be appropriate for you to itemize your purchases for reimbursement by the Akademiya? 
For a person that enjoys reading printed works, it seems that he’s only concerned with the contents of the book and not its physical well-being. A menace to literature. 
You were the unlucky sheep tasked with delivering the new budget proposal for the House of Daena. Stepping into the grand office after an unnecessarily long elevator ride, you wondered what violations will greet you this time, or if the elusive man was even here. 
Ambling towards his desk, eyes focused on the budget in front of you, only switching position once the polished wood came into view. 
Ah, he had another book face-down on the desk with one of your bookmarks just off to the side. He almost had it. Glancing up, your world momentarily stilled. 
The Grand Sage was in his office after all. Chest gently rose and fell, face supported by the back of his knuckle, long lashes closed. Thank Archons, he’s asleep. Your heart restarts its tempo. 
Your eyes quickly snapped back to the cover of the book, The Symposium, you recognized that title from this morning’s flip through the ledgers. It’s overdue.
There’s not even a point in sighing, you expected this. Flipping over the philosophical work you gingerly placed the bookmark in properly, then shut the covers closed. 
Curious eyes wandered back to the sleeping figure in the board seat. His ashen hair looked soft as it fell across his face, lips slightly parted as quiet breaths exhaled.
From his lips, your greedy eyes began to trail down his covered arms, all the way down to the bare break that exposed his robust arm-
You stopped yourself, he’s asleep. You must be reading too many books from a certain island nation.
Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is attractive? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 
You left two pieces of parchment on his desk. 
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‘I’ll give a one-week extension, please return this title to the House of Daena before then.’
Alhaitham certainly didn’t expect to find this from ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ when waking from a nap, he wondered if it was conquered by the remnants of sleep. 
Or perhaps it was their parting gift, one last lingering trace before the ghost that haunted him for these past few months retreated back into their world. No more handkerchiefs left by his lunches. No more pressed flowers to decorate his desk. His teal eyes were unable to catch a very specific hue of viridescences. 
Did the ghost slip out from under his nose again? 
There isn’t much of a reason for Alhaitham to be at the Pardis Dhyai, after all, he’s not a Amurta scholar. Just a chore from this temporary position. His boot-clad steps made their way up the stone path blooming with lush vegetation, the view was almost enough to make up for the troublesome journey.  
Keen eyes honed in on familiar ebony ears from the doorway to the greenhouse. Oh, Tighnari is here? What a rare sight. 
“Please pay the late fee by the end of the week.” A certain cadence seized his attention. 
“Yes, yes, I get it,” Tighnari sighed, moving to place his closed pen where he left off in the book. 
“Chief Forest Ranger, please use this instead.” From your pocket emerged an all too familiar violet. 
“Oh? Did you make this yourself? Mm, a Sumeru Rose, on my way here I noticed that these plants don’t seem as plentiful recently.” The forest ranger observed the bookmark in his gloved hands. 
“I wouldn’t know, sir.” 
Oh, so you gave those bookmarks out to anyone indiscriminately. It made sense, you’re a librarian, employed to help the patrons of the House of Daena with their literary needs.
It didn’t mean much just to hand out a few slips of paper. Something annoying and greener than the foliage scratched at Alhaitham’s neck. 
At the Pardis Dhyai, you had a duty to fulfill, as did he. Not an appropriate time to initiate a conversation.
Thus, the ashen-haired man can only mull over the situation in the stillness of his own home. A blond architect sent out to fetch groceries to account for a certain damages fee. 
A lone finger taps rhythmically on solid oak while the opposite hand supports his pondering head. As quickly as you came, you left just as suddenly. As capricious as the wind, slipping through the gaps of his fingers just as easily.
How does one catch a ghost? 
Beryl gaze travels the length of the workspace, over the scattered sheets and abandoned quills, landing upon negligently stacked covers. A scheme conquers itself into existence.
Throughout history, many methods and rituals have been used to summon beings from the great beyond. As a scholar, who was he not to test those hypotheses?
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The Norton Anthology of World Literature; Overdue 5 weeks
Academic Charisma and the Origins of the Research; Overdue 5 weeks
Cases on Academic Rights and Justice; Overdue 5 weeks
The Symposium; Overdue 8 weeks
Patron: Alhaitham 
Ah, you can’t let this continue. It’s time for ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ to collect their dues. Even if you wanted to bash your head into the ledgers. 
Just beyond the threshold of a pavilion offering shelter from the sun's rays stood a familiar caped frame. Unabashedly reading The Symposium, back resting against the pillar. 
Plugging the title into your script your lungs muster up a deep inhale, it’s time for the coward to dance on stage. 
“Grand Sage.” You stopped a few paces away. 
There was the gentle clatter of his belt and cape, the weight of his gaze now resting upon your shoulders, but your eyes were honed in on the cover in his clutches. You got his title this time. 
Alhaitham feels he should give bygone scholars and minds more merit, a ghost can be summoned, an incentive is needed for the ritual. 
“Please return The Symposium immediately, and address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of the week.” Like rehearsed, your hand reached out, palms awaiting the smooth back of the book. 
His half-gloved hand shut the pages together, rotating the book horizontally, it slowly travels the distance to your hands. Your eyes chaperoned every movement, legs eager to return backstage to the House of Daena. 
Just as the smooth cover brushed against the clammy skin of your palms before your fingers could fully enclose around it, the title suddenly took a detour. With it followed your attentive eyes. 
It’s a childish scheme really, like a schoolyard bully using his vertical advantage to hold the object of desire just out of reach. As the saying goes, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Such elementary actions hold some merit… because they worked. 
Attentive eyes clashed with teal, stunned irises that dilated faster than the thump of your heart. You got to witness the Grand Sage’s features in all their glory for the first time, so his beryl eyes also held some citrine in them. 
Instantly, your neck snapped to the side. But it’s already too late, the coward dropped their mask, shattering at their feet. Revealing to the world the scarlet face of the wimp whose sheet was stripped off their heads, there was never a ghost, only a performer.
You were standing in the shade, yet it felt as if you stumbled into the desert. 
Alhaitham’s indebted to the fact you don’t look people in the eyes, such an event would prove disastrous for this institution of wisdom and rationality. Such a sight should have limited access he deems. 
A sweet breeze blows through the pavilion, cooling his cheeks and yours the same, however, the ears hidden under his earphones still burned. 
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Throughout the House of Daena, the soft fluttering of pages turning and quills scribbling down notes could be heard. At the front, a librarian glances at the clock slowly ticking down to the hour of freedom. 
“I would like to return these,” spoke a husky voice. 
Your eyes traveled up from the freshly stacked books up toned forearms, reaching their final destination on a pair of impartial teal irises. 
Opening up the ledger, you swiftly flipped to a familiar name. Scanning the titles you noted each one down. 
The Uses of Literacy; due in 2 weeks
The Great Conversation; due in 2 weeks
Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity; due in 2 weeks
Patron: Alhaitham
“Thank you for returning the books before due, have a great evening.” You bowed a little at the Grand Sage. Gathering up the books into your hand and placing them in the return cart. 
It’s past 5:30 pm, the Acting Grand Sage is now off the clock. Thus, he didn’t let one second go to waste. Long legs taking swift strides out of the grand doors of the Akademiya, skillfully dodging the searching eyes of ambitious scholars.
Ambling down the stone pathways to the bustling city center. 
Entering the favored tavern of any famished local, Alhaitham places his order. Watching the clock as Lambad packed his two to-go bags.
Dropping the mora off on the counter, Alhaitham seized the freshly made dinners into his hands, exiting the tavern. Merging back into the crowded pathways until he reached his front door. Shifting the bags into one hand, he turns the silver key to his abode. 
Placing the takeout bags onto the polished kitchen table, his teal eyes once again wander towards a clock, 6:10 pm. 
He prepares two glasses and a bottle of wine from a secured cabinet. It’s the weekend now, there’s no risk in enjoying a few glasses tonight. Just as the ashen-haired man finished setting the table, the unlocked door lightly creaks ajar. 
Your frame soon comes into view, arms stretched above your head to loosen the tension that comes with a desk job. A breathy yawn followed the release of tight muscles along your back, walking into the kitchen where Alhaitham stood. 
“You’ve worked hard today.”
You hummed in agreement, hand gently rubbing the fatigue from your eyes as the delicious scent of tandoori roast chicken beckoned your nose.
Food and drinks were strictly forbidden in the House of Daena, and you’re quite ravenous. Advancing toward the paper bag located on your side of the table with an eager bounce in your step. 
Only to be blocked by a toned arm. 
“Aren’t you forgetting something, my librarian?” Inquired a low voice. 
You glanced up at the hurdle that dare separate you from a delicious meal, lip pursed out just the slightest bit. 
“I returned my books before due, desired behavior requires positive reinforcement.” There’s a glint in his beryl eyes. 
You huffed, you should’ve known he was feeling a bit cheeky today from the moment he stepped foot into the library. Still, he’s right, good behavior deserves a reward. 
Tenderly your hands clasped around his soft cheeks, guiding his face downwards as you straighten your back. His ashen locks tickled you as you awarded the towering man his prizes. 
Your lips gingerly press themselves against his features, the warmth of your burning cheeks felt soothing to him, and you could feel the upward pull of his lips.
Once on the forehead, once under his eye, once on the nose, and… one final time against his soft lips.
Quickly pulling away, the slow blink followed by a slightly quirked eyebrow tells you enough about his thoughts. 
“The last one was a thanks for the food.” You turned your flaming cheeks away, settling down and releasing your meal from the confines of the bag. 
Your lover hums in understanding, a cheeky smirk ever so clear on his usually stoic face. Regardless, he moves to his side of the table and unpacks his dinner, filling two glasses with fragrant wine.
A clink signified the start of your dinner ritual, performed away from prying eyes. 
Somewhere during the comfortably quiet dinner, Alhaitham’s hand by habit inched towards the book placed just off to the side, violet bookmark recording his last endeavor among the text. 
Just as quickly as it started, his hand stopped. Like a stern swat, your eyes pierced into the back of his hand. A silent warning. He withdrew his hand back to his side, deciding to practice proper dining manners, for you of course. 
Satisfied, your attention returns back to the seasoned meat and sauces on your plate, fork and knife quickly getting to work. 
Alhaitham’s perfectly spiced food took a backseat in his mind, eyes more interested in observing the endearing fullness of your cheeks as you chewed.
Inquisitive irises returned his stare, he sees the teal that reflected off. How could the corners of his mouth not lift at the sight in front of him?
Please keep your eyes on him, so that he may continue to watch you for now and for the far future. His librarian. 
Fin~
©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 
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vanillaberrychills · 3 days
Text
cw: smut, thigh riding, man whore price, implied legal age gap, fingering, masturbation, exhibitionism (?), lmk if more needed
an ;; not proofread
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— "It's nice to meet you, Captain." You smiled, even if you didn't want to. How could you want? The man you were told to respect eyeing you up and down; looking at you like you were just another piece of meet to use as canon fodder
The man being Captain John Price, a respectable individual within the political section of your military division. Though, from a social standpoint, he was hardassed individual who'd occasionally go around sleeping with female soldiers. You had heard the rumors, a guy like him couldn't just settle in one place, and it truthfully disgusted you.
Price took a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to sit in the seat before his desk — which you did, somewhat noting that this man looked uncomfortable in his own office.
"You're here as a scribe, right?" His sharp tone cut out your small analysis him, replied with a firm nod. "Hm, right then. Your job is simple, easy even. All you do is follow around some people, take notes, and report back to me. Be thorough, be quick, and don't be dumb. Remember, you're just a scribe."
It felt uncomfortable to get that same lecture everytime you joined a new taskforce. Just carrying a false smile and dumbly nodding, easier to please higher ups than sit there and argue that you were capable of so much more. Hopefully that ass kissing would pay your rent some day.
After a shoo away from Price you collected your stuff and began your job. Which was also harder than you expected. You had heard that 141 was filled with unique characters, but this bad? It was fucking unbearable.
First person you were set to introduce yourself to, some asshole with a cheeky grin. His eyes constantly magnetized to your body, trying to fill out your curves under that baggy uniform. A twenty minute introduction of him just trying to get in your pants.
You were disgusted. You told yourself you wouldn't let yourself be like the others. You told yourself you were better than this, with so much more potential and hope. How you wanted to find the real love of your life. Yet here you were, on your knees before him, eyes wide and head craned up to stare at this arrogant bastard.
Your fingers were already gently rubbing your naked clit, your clothes long discarded behind you at the door. How did you get here? Just a scribe? Whatever happened to being meaningless? Price would wonder it to himself as well.
Didn't matter who he fucked after meeting you, he wasn't satisfied. He still felt a throb in his chest, his balls heavy with seed he'd never grant any other lady but you. None of them were as sweet as you, pretending to be so respectful with the nastiest glare in your eyes.
Oh, love, you looked at him like you hated him, like you wished he would disappear. Each time he locked his office door and hours later let a pretty little barrack bunny leave, you would be fuming. Cleaning after the place while grumbling about how much you just hated your job. It made Price think: he made good money, good enough money to retire and live luxuriously without consequence.
He could be your daddy; make sure you didn't have to work another day of your life. As long as you let him fuck you into submission. And god, you were so fun. Always swatting his hand away when it grazed over your ass, not another word though. Almost begging him to try again. Price always saw the flustered look on your face when he was extra loud. You shamefully hiding your fingers, almost like you were paranoid he could sense what you had done. And usually he kept a smug us grin and turned a blind eye.
But not today. Today when he had to get himself off, conveniently leaving his office door unlocked just so you'd have to step in and slam the door shut. He'd make you watch, watch as the angry head of his cock weeped beads of milk white liquid. Price would even make you touch, chuckling as you seemed so nervous and sweet in your motions to jerk him off.
He'd lean in, pulling you closer and whisper how you could be a good girl for daddy, how he'd pay for you to spread your legs every night. Your eyes were glossy with arousal, and you'd nod your head up and down. So easy to make dumb, he didn't even have to touch you, it was much more fun making you touch yourself for him.
So flustered, squirming on your own fingers and panting. You'd try to describe how good it felt, per his request, but your word come out jumbled. He'd pity his pretty princess, sit you on his lap and rip off your pants and panties, making you ride his clothed thy. Shushing you with a bounce of his leg and a soft gut, "Sh, sh, doll, be good. Such a pretty thing you are, about to cry because that little clit likes me so much. Dirty girl, look at how sticky you are."
He was so mean to you, not even bothering to use his fingers in you, just grinning and stroking his cock, squeezing himself just at the head so his precum could ooze a bit on your own thigh.
"Thought you hated me, baby?"
You'd hiccup, in a flustered voice you'd cry, "I..- I do!'
"Oh, princess. This isn't hate, your pussy is sayin' you love me, needs me touch it 'till your tummy hurts." How dare he? Saying such arrogant shit while your cunny is drooling and begging for him. Promising him easy access and a tight hole to cum in. It would make the final bucks of our hips stutter and become inconsistent.
Your clit swollen and sticky strands of your juices binding you two together until you were panting and sobbing out an orgasm into his shoulder. He'd hug you close, whispering how pretty you looked. Kissing your jaw and head. How could someone so mean make you feel so good?
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