#[It's just a little different when spoken but the principle is still the same: your freedom ends where freedom of the other person begins]

[ask-richard-jackdaw]

[Just a general reminder for those who roleplay: make sure you don't dictate other characters' actions and feelings in your asks and replies ☺️ Nobody wants to have their autonomy taken away! If you really want to make your intent known, instead of writing "He hugs her" try "He makes a move to hug her", "He attempts to hug her", "You can see it in his eyes that he wants to hug her", and so on. That way the other character can change the narrative if they are uncomfortable 🫂. But even in that case they are not obligated to reply and you should respect that.

And if you think that nobody is interested in your blog — I guarantee it's not the case! Chances are, not that many people know about your OC/MC/character you play so try to put yourself out there! Engage with people! Send asks, write replies, do reblogs, DM if you have any questions or if it puts your mind at ease before plunging into rp! I know it's hard if you're a shy or reserved person. But nobody else can solve this for you 🫂 ]

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Applesauce pt. 3

And so, he fucked it all up.

@cardwrecks​  @captainbaddecisions​

“Excuse the fuck me!?!”

The anger surged back up, mixed with indignation to forge an alloy of outrage. How fucking dare-

There were rules. There were agreements. And maybe they weren't spoken, but they were understood. Don't fuck with Helix. She had earned it. Over time, she had proven herself clever, resourceful, and trustworthy. She had passed every test. She had their approval, she had Arkham's approval, and this little Riddlet thought he had the right? This nobody thought he could take her away from him-them?

He'd be lucky if Swag didn't put a fist right in one of his pretty brown eyes, and he'd better damn well hope nobody else ever found out. Swag wasn't even close to the most impulsive or vindictive among them. She had Arkham's approval, Detective's approval, his approval, and oh no, oh fuck, he'd just realized that their hierarchy of accepted authority wasn't topped by a duet, it was a trinity, and that's why all the new blood had come to introduce themselves to him, oh no, the responsibilities were already here, had already been here, oh fuck, he had a chance with Narci years ago but had turned the kid away outright, oh no, this was why he should never be given responsibility!

Helix had left her seat, backed away with concern scrawled between her brows. Swag realized he was clutching the edge of the bar with a white-knuckled grip, furious snarl twisting his face.

Okay, okay, okay, calm the fuck down. Save those plans for later, or better, discard them entirely. Don't bust the guy in the face. Don't slip the info to Puzzles and then stand back to watch the fireworks. Absolutely don't let Unswag know. Just calm. The fuck. Down.

“Sorry.” he said, evening out his tone into something almost fake. “That caught me by surprise. He...he does know that wouldn't work anyway, doesn't he?”

“He knows I can't be captured like that, yes. I guess I shouldn't have bothered taking these but I want that machine to tear itself to ruins in front of him when he tests it. I...I suppose I'm a little ticked off about this.”

“You oughta be livid. Nah, don't listen to me. Why would he do this, anyway?”

“I think...I scared him. He was going on about how he wasn't safe to be around, and then he insinuated that I wouldn't be able to defend myself or my daughter from him, which is ridiculous! And I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen, so I showed him instead.”

“Showed him?”

Ask her to show you what she showed me. But be sure you really want to understand.

“I froze him in place. Not like, with cold, but...here.”

She picked an apple out of the basket and tossed it in the air. He watched it follow it's arc and then-

-just stop. The fruit hung helplessly in midair.

“It's the same principle that lets me fly.” she explained. “Control over the movement of objects through space. I stopped his ability to move. I didn't hurt him, I just wanted him to understand that if he really did try to hurt us, I could stop him without any pain at all. So that he didn't have to be afraid of that. Instead, he's afraid of me now. So much so that he built a machine specifically to kill me.”

“Some people act damn weird when they're afraid. I mean, U.S. is still dealing with the shit he saw your alternate selves do.”

Probably shouldn't go into too much detail there! He was just glad they had this Helix. The others really did sound terrifying.

Her brow crinkled.

“Edward...there are no alternate me's. I'm not like you guys; I wasn't a foundational figure in my world.”

“But...Unswag said he saw a bunch of different scenarios...?”

“Oh, yes! That's all me. Your world is a little weird, you know? It's like-oh,it's hard to explain-like, stacked? There's a bunch of, um, mini worlds branching off? Like the leaves of a plant, growing off the main stem, where we are. But they're all connected back to here, reflecting the things that happen here, and I exist in each one simultaneously. Different parts of me, but not separate from me. More like different facets of a diamond. Technically the same object, but different faces of it, with the light reflecting through differently.”

“They're all the same you?” his stomach was sinking into adrenaline dread. She was capable? Of the things Unswag had said? “Are you aware of what they do?”

“Not really? They act in whatever scenario how I would act in whichever scenario here. Whatever seems right at the time. When I come, they come, when I go, they go, because they're reflections rather than separate entities. So naturally, they would have helped you out with him in every world, because that's what I would do.”

“Helped me out. Yeah.”

He grasped the floating apple, which didn't budge, but he could feel the instant she released her control over it, and its weight returned to his hand. He grabbed a plate and placed the apple on it.

“So if I asked, could you skin this apple with magic?” he asked, silken slyness lacing his voice. He just had to see...

“Uh, sure?” she said, hesitant at the change in his tone. “Vegetable peeler's just as good, but...”

“I just wanna see.”

She didn't move, didn't even blink, but the apple's skin unzipped itself, peeling away in a single piece like a discarded dress.

She flayed me alive.

“Wow, that's really clean.” Why hadn't he known about this? Was his twin right? That his own refusal to get involved might have brought them all to danger? The implications were chilling.

“Thank you!” she brightened at the compliment. “I practice a lot.”

“Bet you do. Could you cut it too?”

Again, that concerned look. Swag held his phone under the bar, texting rapidly.

:Did she try to kill you?:

A moment passed.

:I'm still alive, so no. Tread carefully.:

He glanced back up, and the apple fell into two perfect halves. Again, she hadn't moved. Were all those previous 'magical' gestures simply for his benefit?

“Amazing.” He picked up one half and bit into it. “The juice ain't even running. How'd you do that?”

“Oh, I just released the bonds between the cells. That's how I got the skin off too.”

I saw her cut glass with her mind.

“So you can do all this just by thinking about it?”

“Pretty much. It does take effort, but there's so much ambient magic here that I could do practically anything. Your world is very refreshing.”

“Cool. So. You could do this to a person, couldn't you.”

She recoiled, shocked at the near-accusation.

“What? No! I don't do that! Why would you even say that?”

He held out the half apple.

“U.S. saw you do this to him.” Gestured at the apple skin. “Saw you do that too. And a whole lot of other stuff.”

“No, I don't do that!” she protested.

“But you can. And some part of you did, because you're telling me that all those pieces are really just one you. There's some part of you that can justify it. And look, I'm pissed at him too, but you didn't tell Codec what you were gonna do, did you? You just did it.”

“He wouldn't listen!”

“And that justified it. I've been seeing you get angry more and more lately, and I'm wondering if you shouldn't step back from the stress for a while. I'm wondering if we all shouldn't.”

“I'm allowed to be angry.” she said.

“Yeah, you are. But you're more than just human. I mean, we're all kinds of crazy here, but you're the only one who can tear a man to shreds just by getting mad at him.”

“I would never...did I? No, I don't kill people, Edward!”

“How many?” he asked, watching the denial transmogrify into offense.

“You first.” she shot back.

Did everything in the room just move a little, or was that his imagination?

What was he doing? This was insane. If he really thought she was capable of turning him inside out, why was he challenging her?

Maybe Unswag wasn't the only one unsettled by all the recent happenings. He'd been falling into bad old habits, all the way up to this: trying to provoke a possibly very dangerous reaction out of someone he actually cared about, and he couldn't give any reason why, other than just needing to know if she would or not. He'd tested his hirelings in similar ways, in the past. How could he have let himself fall back so far as to treat her like that?

“You know what, actually I'm way out of line here.” he admitted. Reel it it, reel it in. When you recognized you were being stupid, it was best just to stop. “I'm sorry babe. I think there's something up with me. When U.S. told me what he saw, I couldn't believe it. But I don't think he was lying either.”

“I...would like to speak with him. At some point. Not now.” she said, barely mollified. “I don't know how solid the secondary realities in this world are. If what he saw was real, or just possibilities.”

“He seemed pretty convinced. And you've got no recollection of this at all?”

“None. I know I reflect like that when I come here, but I don't see what happens in those reflections. I can't imagine being like that. Edward, I really don't do things like that. I know I can. That's part of why I don't.”

He offered her the other half of the apple. She reached out to take it, still tense. He should really fix that.

He snatched up her hand, intending to lay an apologetic kiss on the knuckles, but she yanked back with an agonized cry.

“What? What is it?” He reached out over the bar, but she backed away, clutching her hand. He could see the skin bubbling on her palm. “Shit! What happened?”

“What is that?” she demanded in a pained voice. “On your hand? What is that?”

The wire. He'd forgotten he was wearing it.

“It's just some weird metal-”

“Nth metal! How do you have that? Why do you have that?”

“It was recommended...”

And the dealer had gone on an on about its special properties, like a New Age shop trying to sell a crystal. But 'magic cancellation' was on that list, and it had grabbed his attention. The idea of never having to worry about Grays again was so very tempting. He hadn't expected it to hurt her!

“Did you know what it does?”

“Not that it would burn!”

Betrayal clouded over the pain in her face. He had just admitted that he knew it would neutralize her, after all, just not that it would hurt. A tacit lack of trust.

The apples in the basket, melted into goo. Every piece of glass in the room cracked, and Helix drew further away. Wide eyed, they both looked around frantically at the glass, the mirrors, the bottles. With clear effort around the obvious pain in her hand, she resealed most of the glass, even now kindly saving him a huge mess.

She backed close to the door.

“Maybe you're right.” she said, voice flat and lifeless. “Maybe I need to step away. Away from the stress. Away from...all this. Maybe it's time.”

“Wait. Wait, babe, this is my fault-”

He scurried around the bar, apple dripping from his fingers. Something in him told him that he couldn't let her leave now, or he might never see her again.

“I just got too caught up-”

“Take care of yourself Swag. I'll see you when I see you.”

All she had to do was step through the door, and she was gone, disappeared into nothing.

But she'd taken something with her, and it hurt to lose. That precious little thing that let him know he was special, now stripped from him. His identity. His name.

He stepped through the door, back and forth, closing his eyes and willing himself to follow, but it didn't work. That magical pathway was closed to him.

Apple dribbled all over the bar, and he drew despondent fingers through the mush, brought them to his tongue. He hated how good it tasted, how his reflection replicated in the crazed glass of the one mirror she hadn't fixed. How much potential bounty had melted out of his life, as a result of his projecting his own self destruction? He was afraid of what she could do? Of what she had done to U.S.? How much of that was actually his fault? How many times had he stood back and, as his twin had said 'just watched', instead of doing anything? What was he actually afraid of?

That she could kill him? Of course she could! She didn't even need magic for that, just the will! Of course she could kill him! And U.S. could choke him to death tomorrow, and he just might when he found out what happened here! And someone could shoot him in the face, or he could get thrown off another building, or hit by a car, or die in a fire. A Gray could magic him into jumping off a cliff, or his body could just stop. Every second could be his last; it was why he'd embraced the philosophy of hedonism in the first place. If happiness was truly his to create, then why did he keep doing this?

Because it wasn't death he was actually afraid of. It was failure. It was loss. It was that happiness wasn't only his, its creation was shared, which meant another person could influence it.

And sometimes-every time-he was perversely driven to break it himself, before anyone else could wrest that control from him. It drove him to neglect, to obsess, to provoke. To destroy.

Before anyone else could.

?~?~?~?~?

artist: @cardwrecks​

[ot3]

hey kinda heavy ace attorney question ig but I agree with you on many things about aa and feel like you have a good understanding of Phoenix and Trucy so I really wanna ask. How do you think the creation of the bloody ace was handled? I’ve seen the idea that Trucy took matters into her own hands and made it as a failsafe without his knowledge, and that he then covered for her, but if that were the case I wonder how he knew about it and planned around it at his trial. I’ve also seen the idea that he made it himself, but gave it to her for delivery to Apollo; which maybe seems the most apparent but I really dislike it because…. It means he uses her to deliver forged evidence. In much the same way he was given the diary page, really. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve also seen some people suggest that he made it but only gave it to her for use at her discretion, which does give some agency back to her but I also question whether Phoenix would be right in placing that on her shoulders and making it her responsibility. Sorry this expanded into a ridiculously long ask but I really am curious about your take on it?

eoooh yes yes yes i love talking about phoenix and trucy lets goooooo. i actually have a scene from my (still pretty rough and probably never to be finished) wip longfic covering this scene, which ill sick below the cut, but i'll just give my generic thoughts here first.

i think phoenix asked her to do it. trucy having enough detailed knowledge of the crime scene and the events leading up to it and the actual mechanical operation of trials that would be required in order to come up with this plan just doesn't make any sense to me. phoenix is really the only one who could have theoretically concocted this particular move. but since he was presumably held in the detention center until trial, trucy is from there really the only person who could have actually done the thing.

phoenix and trucy are pretty notoriously codependent; i'm headachey and melting from the heat today so rather than doing what i normally do and trawling the wiki to find the quotes that back me up on broadstrokes statements like these so i'm just gonna pull a 'dude just trust me' moment here. the fact that she helps take care of her daddy is a point of pride for her. i don't think it strips trucy of any agency for this to be phoenix's decision because it's not like trucy spends her whole life (or even the entire game) blindly following other peoples orders. her (and phoenix's ) priority at the beginning of aa4 is each other and their own wellbeing, and the decisions they have to make in turnabout trump are indicative of that.

yes, it echoes her bringing the forged evidence to phoenix 7 years ago, but it's more of an inversion/reversal (one might even say a turnabout) than a repetition of past mistakes. in the past she was an unwilling pawn in someone else's plan where her life was collateral, now she's an active and conscious participant in the plan of someone she cares about that she's doing to protect the life she and phoenix have built for themselves. She's not being forced to do it, but i don't think there's any world where she would have said no either. she and phoenix are the most important thing in the world to each other. in their own words, if one of them falls, they both fall.

was it right of phoenix to ask this of her? was it okay for him to do this to apollo, too? obviously it's not a good thing. but it was his only option at that moment. phoenix found himself in a very difficult situation. as an attorney he promised himself to the truth, and that was the principle he lived by, but as a father what he lives by is the promise he made to trucy to never disappear on her. at that moment phoenix did what he had to do to make sure the trial ended the way he needed it to. truth had to take a backseat. his priorities have shifted.

i've also spoken before at length about how i don't think phoenix was plotting against kristoph in the longterm, at least not to the degree which popular fanon seems to agree upon. so really everything he did in turnabout trump was phoenix being backed into a corner using every tool at his disposal to try and snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. was it right of him to get trucy involved? it's no worse than bringing 8 year old pearl along to crime scenes because he needed her channeling skills. phoenix cares about people deeply but he isn't capable of shielding them from all the harm the world has to offer, and he knows he isn't. half of his capability comes from his shrewdness and willingness and ability to take help when he can get it because he knows, even if its a strain in a short term, he's fighting battles that need to be won at any cost. if that makes any sense

anyway heres the little scene i wrote below the cut.

---------- APRIL 17TH, 2026 DETENTION CENTER VISITOR’S ROOM ----------

Trucy shows up on the dot as visiting hours begin. It’s funny, she thinks. The last time she did this she had a different daddy altogether. Only it really isn’t particularly funny at all, is the thing about it, and she’s going to have quite a few stern words for the man when he gets home.

She picks up the phone on one side of the pane of bulletproof glass and he grabs the other.

“Daddy,” she huffs. “You promised me you’d stay out of trouble.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Truce.” He puts on an easy smile as he says it, and he uses the same affected tone of voice she had used to start the conversation off. Affected. Cautious, in the sense that it’s levity is entirely manufactured. A performance.

It had been like that between them for real at the beginning, both of them still unsure of each other, pantomiming something resembling a sitcom and playing the real feeling filled in as it went. Thankfully, it did, but the theatrics still lend themselves better to specific conversation.

“Well, if you’re sorry, I suppose I can forgive you! But this isn’t going to look good on your employee review, y’know. I’ll have to bring it up with HR.”

“I’m sure Charley can find it in his heart to forgive me, too.”

“He’s a gentle soul.” She nods.

“You should come watch the trial on Monday, I think it’d be good for you to see.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Trucy doesn’t like the courthouse. Daddy knows that. She never comes when he goes to use the library there. She also hates, hates the idea of watching her daddy sit in the defendant’s chair not knowing if he’s ever going to come home again. He knows that too.

“Well, there are always interesting things to learn during a court trial. Plus, having you there would help me out a lot!” I need you to do something for me. She reads through the tone into his words’ real meaning. Her stomach clenches. A favor he can’t just outright ask for, not over the phone in the detention center, where every word would be recorded.

“Oh, daddy, no! I’m a magician, not a lawyer, although I understand the confusion.” She drapes a hand over her eyes in faux anguish. “I simply couldn’t, it isn’t my stage.”

“I disagree. I think it’s a perfect stage. Lawyers need cheering up too, you know! Back when I was a lawyer, I used to get really stressed out during cases like these. I bet one of your tricks would do the job.”

“Well what sort of trick do you want me to do?”

“Do you remember the first trick you ever did for me? It was the day we met, at the courthouse. You pulled a piece of paper out of your hat and gave it to me.”

“Yes,” she chirps, forcing a vibrant bubble into her voice. It feels like a pile of rocks in her gut and her pulse starts to quicken. “Of course I remember!”

“I bet if you did that trick again, it’d cheer up the whole courtroom! I bet I’d win my case in a heartbeat.”

----------

Her legs feel like jelly by the time the bus drops her off at the stop near the office. Daddy had kept on like that, loaded phrasing and a lopsided smile as he laced vapid banter with instructions. With warnings. She walks into the storage closet and grabs a deck of cards - one of his, the same style they use at the club, not hers for her tricks. Abruptly, she has a moment of panic as she realizes she’s not even sure what color she’s supposed to use, but then, just as fast, she forces her head clear and just grabs one of each.

They’re unopened. This makes it a cinch to find the card she’s looking for. Her stomach flips.

The worst part isn’t even what she’s doing. The worst part is that she’s doing it at all. Daddy knows well what this situation is making her feel and he’s asking her to do it anyway.

The only explanation left: he’s completely out of options.

She pulls her gloves off and grabs a needle from her sewing supplies. She pricks her finger, and lets a drop fall onto each ace.

----------

[luna-rainbow]

There's a line in the latest What If ep that's been bugging me. At the end before going back to her timeline Peggy initially wants to go back to the 40s, and tells the Watcher "haven't I earned my happy ending?"

I've been trying to put my finger on just what it is about this that bugs me so much. I guess maybe it's because it comes across as very entitled? Like there are so many people throughout all these universes who have suffered so horribly and yet the writers suggest that Peggy is the one who has earned a happy ending, or that being with Steve is the ONLY possible happy ending she could ever have, because screw originality right? Peggy will never be happy without her boyfriend and it honestly sucks for the character because she's trapped living in both Steve's shadow and as his love interest.

Ah you see, it’s lines like these that make annoyed at the existence of Peggy, and it almost has very little to do with her character, but rather the writing.

My reading of that line is it’s supposed to convince the audience that going back to the 40’s and getting back with the person you briefly shared an almost-fling with is “the happy ending”. Who else had this happy ending? Yeah. It feels like a(nother) desperate attempt to right the wrong that was EG!Steve’s ending. See, even though Peggy is a strong independent woman now enhanced, she also wants to go back in time, so much she thinks all the heroism she’s done so far (I don’t know what she’s done cos I haven’t watched it) is supposed to be some sort of service in exchange of this reward for going back in time - which rather diminishes her heroism, I would think, but then I don't know the context of how this quote was spoken.

On the other hand, this is another reason why forcing Peggy’s story into Steve’s doesn’t work. Peggy - apart from her gender - actually has more reason to go back to the 40s than Steve. Unlike Steve, who had no family and whose best friend is in the present, who actually had very little roots in the past - Peggy has a family, she had an affluent background and a good education, she ended up having a husband (who was not Steve - but whatever), arguably going back to the 40s she will still end up going into SHIELD and becoming its director. She had a good life, despite all the restrictions placed on her gender. That was her golden timeline. Meanwhile EG!Steve had gone back to nothing and would have to continue to amount to nothing in that timeline for it to not be disturbed. To argue that Peggy wanted to go back to the past would justify Steve going back to the past is completely erroneous, because their situation was completely different. Peggy would go back to becoming the girl boss she was, Steve went to a life of anonymity, meaninglessness and injustice.

Thinking back on the first episode, the other scene that really irked me was how she was so elated by the serum’s powers when she fought for the first time. At the time I sort of compared it to Peter Parker and thought, okay, fine, she’s “cutely” excited. But she’s not a teenager, and she never gets his character defining journey, which is - with great power comes great responsibility. Steve was defined by the same principle (which is why MCU!Spidey is ridiculous and EG!Steve made no sense). The serum gave Steve strength and he was chosen because Erskine knew he would be responsible and diligent with it. Peggy has always been in a relatively powerful role, and that elation, that joy of overpowering your opponents, of being thrilled by crushing people weaker than you…

Girl that’s a villain origin story.

[houndsofbalthazar]

I said this in that previous morrowind post:

“It’s the same reason Oblivion has a 30-minute character creation segment that contains a lot of watching helplessly as plot happens in front of you, while Morrowind’s is about three minutes long and ends with the phrase “You’re on your own now, good luck.””

I wanted to spin this thought off into its own post because it’s not really talking about the difference in design philosophy anymore. But anyway, I specifically said character creation segment here rather than tutorial because while the Morrowind tutorial ostensibly ends with the message that you’re on your own now, it doesn’t really. The entire town of Seyda Neen is really a little stealth tutorial and it is very cleverly done imo.

You emerge from the character creation with some plain clothes, an iron dagger, a lockpick, about 100 gold, and a magic ring. Just across from the door you emerge from is a locked door to a warehouse, but it’s locked. It’s lock level 40 which is too high to pick for a starting character. But it’s not so high that you can’t open it with The Tower’s special birthsign power, opens locks of level 50 and below. It’s a nice nod to your birthsign mattering, even if you didn’t choose the tower, you can see that it would have been useful (and the implication then is that every birthsign will be useful in different circumstances).

Anyway, you enter the town and probably the first NPC you meet is Fargoth. If you speak to him (which is highly likely given this is the first voluntary interaction with an NPC you can have) he asks about the ring and you have your first quest! Super simple, give him the ring or keep it for yourself. It’s a nice ring, it has a nice enchantment. If you give it to him, you get a disposition boost for him and for the trader in town. If you don’t, you can’t change your mind later. This demonstrates a ton of core principles of quests. Firstly that you can just keep useful quest items if you want. Secondly that quest rewards might be non-material but still good (better prices at the tradehouse!), and thirdly that sometimes you only get one chance at things.

Ok, so you’ve spoken to Fargoth. Maybe you speak to some other townsfolk, but you probably head over to Arrille’s Tradehouse. Why? Well it’s the only shop in town and you probably need a more suitable weapon and armour than your iron dagger. Also the character creation sequence told you it’d be a good idea. So you go over and talk to Arrille, whose introduction text is master-crafted: "Welcome to Arrille's Tradehouse. I barter for goods or coin. I also have a small selection of spells for sale. No credit. You want a little advice? That's free. That's ALL that's free. Would you like to hear about our most popular potions? Our most popular scrolls?" Specifically using the word barter is nice, since that’s the menu item for opening the shop menu. Just a little nudge in the right direction if you’re stuck on how to buy stuff. “Little Advice”, “Popular Potions”, and “Popular Scrolls” are all highlighted dialogue options, and even though Little Advice is an option common to almost everyone, Arrille has two unique responses to it which give you some guidance. The options for popular potions and scrolls are just newbie advice disguised as sales talk. Buy healing items, this is what divine intervention does as a spell effect, you might get diseased so it’s worth carrying some cure potions around. That sort of thing. He can also guide you upstairs.

Upstairs is Hriskaar Flat Foot, who asks you to find Fargoth’s hiding place and steal some gold from it. You know, Fargoth, the guy you gave the ring to? You can get a quest to wait until night time to see where he stashes his stuff. You do the quest, and get 300 gold and the ring of healing back. If you turn the gold into Hriskaar he gives you a reward... of 100 gold. Remember earlier when I said sometimes you can just keep quest rewards? This is teaching you to actively double cross NPCs if you like a quest reward! That 300 gold is pretty huge this early in the game. (It also introduces the idea of stealing stuff back via the healing ring, although that’s not always possible).

There are other interactions to be had around the town, but when you’re ready to leave you really only have two options. The town on on a little peninsula so the only exit is to the north, and it’s then a question of whether you go east or west. You’ve been told to go to Balmora, which you can reach by the fast transport. It just so happens that in walking that way, you will definitely spot the cave entrance to Addamasartus, a smuggler cave that you may have been told about. A perfect introduction to dungeon crawling (and for many characters, a perfect introduction to making sure you’ve saved before doing anything dangerous!). Say you go west instead, well, there’s a good chance that in exploring and practising fighting mudcrabs you will come across the body of the local tax collector who was murdered, drawing you into another quest (or just rewarding you with some money if you don’t fancy the quest), and teaching you that there are secrets hidden out in the world and it’s worth paying attention even on the road.

Anyway, once you’re finally done with Seyda Neen, you go to Balmora, you find Caius Cosades like you’ve been told to, and he tells you to ignore the main quest for a while and go find something else to do. It’s so refreshing, it wants you to engage at your own pace! It tells you explicitly that the game is about exploring and doing your own thing!

I think the genius of Seyda Neen as a tutorial is in its use of the shape of the world to guide you towards various quests and interactions to form a chain-reaction of stuff to do that in turn teaches you how the world works. And the best part is that it is entirely optional. If like me you’ve started hundreds of new characters in Morrowind and know Seyda Neen like the back of your hand, you can just run straight to the Silt Strider and get out of there. Or if you’re new, you can take your time, explore, and learn how to play & enjoy Morrowind.

[samwilsonshandsandass]

I Think I'm Seeing Triple

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x reader x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes Summary: You just want to get settled in in your hotel room for a weekend conference, when your room is also given to two other attendees of the conference. And then something happens no one can explain and four surprise guests are also in the room Warnings: Smut, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, choking Word count: 3240 A/N: @keanureevesisbae were suffering together because of a post with four pictures each of Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan and then I had a thought and got some inspiration.

You went up to your hotel room after the first getting to know each other event at the weekend conference you had to go to. You hadn’t even put your shoes near the door when it opened and in came two other attendees. You knew who they were, had seen them all over the newspapers and also columns. Sam Wilson aka Cap and Bucky Barnes aka… he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore and you didn’t know if he wanted to claim that title to morph it into something good or if he was called something else. So, Bucky Barnes.

Before you could ask them what they did in your room, and how they got a key card when it was clearly booked, and before they stopped their bickering about who was the blanket hog, there were two flashes of golden light and from each flash tumbled a pair of men identical to the pair of men who just walked into your room. Just their clothing separated them from each other.

“Who are you?”

Sam Wilson asked and looked at someone who seemed to be his friend. Although that friend had entered the room beside him.

“I’m Bucky” The one spoken to, said.

“No, I’m Bucky!” A third version of the man said.

“And you?” The one who seemed to be the actual Sam, wanted to know.

“Sam.”

“Who am I then?”

“My less attractive twin?”

“Ha-ha.”

“So, There’s three Sams. And three Buckys. That’s not weirder than other things we were confronted with. And you are?” The Bucky who had entered the room with the first Sam questioned and looked at you.

“Y/N” You answered slowly. “And why are all of you in my hotel room?”

“We’re here because the person at the reception told us this room was available. We’re last minute additions to this weekend conference” That was one of the Buckys. He gestured to himself and one of the Sams.

“O- kay. And you four?” You looked at the seemingly identical versions of the Sam and Bucky who were supposed to be here.

“There was a flash, everything went cold and now we’re here” The third Bucky replied.

“We had something similar happening” The Sam in the middle said.

“Alright. Okay. Cool. I’ll just be blunt and say I wouldn’t have been opposed to one Sam and Bucky being in the same room for an entire weekend” You mumbled after you looked shortly to the heavens.

“You do know we’re supposed to actually attend meetings and workshops and networking events, don’t you?” The Bucky you dubbed “Bucky number one” asked you.

“Stickler for principles…” Sam number one grinned. “I know you. You’d do anything to get out of at least the networking events.”

“Of course I would! Still doesn’t change the fact networking just means getting drunk and fucking someone just for the sake of fucking someone. I’m not for that. And I can’t get drunk.”

You saw the other two Bucky’s nod in agreement.

“So, that’s the defining trait of the different Bucky’s” Sam number two smiled.

“As if you like what comes out of these events” Bucky (you couldn’t say which) grinned back.

“No, I’d cook for someone first. Be a gentleman.”

“See. And I’d take her dancing.”

You cleared your throat.

“I still don’t understand all this” You stated.

“Me neither” Bucky number three. “Maybe we could each explain the basics of yourselves.”

“Good idea. So. In this universe, my universe, you” You sat back on the bed and pointed at Sam number one, “were a para rescue and then used what you learned during that time to save the world. And you” You looked down at Bucky number one who was laying on your belly, “were a P.O.W. during World War II and then basically got turned into a human weapon and got frozen to keep your body the way they needed it to be. You were found and then, a year later in probably the technologically most advanced country on earth you finally got freed for good from it all and now use your skills for good as well. With him as your partner.” You pointed at Sam number one again.

“Wait. You had a second World War? We only had one. You know, the one from 1914 to 1918?” Bucky number two asked. “What happened in your universe?”

“The Germans thought the cure for their humiliation in Versailles could only be coped with by committing genocide and reaching for world domination.” Bucky number one explained. “And my best friend got quite big and muscle-y because of that. Why didn’t the Germans do in your universe what they did in mine?”

“Some Germans had their heads on straight. Fought back when the political landscape of 1920s Germany was close to morphing into street terror and they succeeded. They stayed a democratic country and that was that.”

“My Steve got all the muscles as well.” Bucky number three smiled. Then it fell from his face. “We actually served together, after he changed like that. When the Germans and their allies were defeated, Steve went on to train new recruits back home and I went to Korea.”

“So, you aged normally. How come you’re here now with a body like back then? And why are you also looking like that, when there even wasn’t a second world war and in theory you should’ve lived a long live and, no offence, be long underground?” You wondered and looked between Bucky number two and three.

Bucky number two snorted. “I know what you mean. After school, I actually got a scholarship, one of the few back then, for Teachers College, which is a part of Columbia University. I became a Math and Physics teacher. After some years, the university offered a few places in an experimental study about nitrogen and cryogenesis.”

“And I suspect you accepted one?” Sam number three asked.

“Yep. Wanted to see what progress the future made in science and to have the body and age and mind to enjoy it all fully.”

“That takes being a nerd to a whole new level. I thought the Bucky I know was flexing!” Sam number one exclaimed.

“Just because I could read the Hobbit when it came out and you couldn’t?” Bucky number one shot back.

“You read that, too?” Bucky number two and three exclaimed.

“No matter the universe, they’re nerds” Sam number two mumbled.

“And you two? What happened with you in your universes?” You looked at Sam number two and three.

“My and Sarah’s parents died quite a few years ago. My nephews were little, and yet, I thought I’d help my family more if I went off to the air force. Sarah wouldn’t have that and then the community got wind of my plans and they kept me there” Sam number two smiled. “I took over more of the workload to keep our fishing business afloat so Sarah could focus more on the kids when they were really little. When they got bigger, we shared the workload more equally and still do that now. Haven’t regretted not moving away one day.”

“I also didn’t move away. Well, not entirely to Washington, after our parents died. I worked my ass off to get into an undergraduate program for social work and now I’m working as a counselor for families in tight spots in St. Bernard” Sam number three told.

“Okay. This is quite much, but I can work with that. Or at least understand more. Want to know something about me?” You looked around at the six men around you.

“Isn’t that confusing for you?” Bucky wanted to know.

“On every level, yes. So, I’ll just concentrate on the fact there’s six handsome and hot guys and just one of me.”

“That’s certainly something” Sam smiled.

“Yeah” You laughed quietly and took his hand.

You felt him stroke the back of your hand and move towards you. With a half smile and half lidded eyes, he pecked your lips. He moved back slowly. You cradled his head in your hand and pulled him in again, scratching his head all the while and earning a moan. You moved your lips against Sam’s, sucking his tongue into your mouth. He chuckled against your lips and moved back again. This time just enough to be able to bite your lips and then move his tongue against your lips again.

When he allowed you to breathe, another Sam asked: “You gonna hog her all for yourself or let us have a piece, too?”

“As if I’d deny myself the joy and pleasure of all of you…” You simpered.

“Well then” He pulled you up to stand and walked you to the middle of the big, fluffy rug in front of the bed.

Sam stood in front of you. With a faint smile, he unbuttoned button for button on the top of your dress. At the same time Bucky knelt behind you and let his hands wander from your ankles to the hem of your panties. He pulled them down slowly, until they caught on the hem of your stockings. Bucky pulled them down as well and put them on the ever growing pile of clothes near the foot of the bed.

“Would you look at this body!” Came from the direction of the bed, where the other two Buckys sat when the Sam before you let your dress fall from your body.

“God” That drawn out moan came from the loveseat with two Sams on it.

You smiled and opened your eyes, looking around to see the four men naked and teasingly stroke their cocks.

“C’mere baby” Sam purred.

The two men who had just undressed you went over to the bed. You stood in front of the loveseat.

“And where am I sitting?”

“Laying” Sam smiled and pulled you down.

Your torso laid across the legs of the Sam sitting left and your thighs across the Sam on the right. You wiggled your ass jokingly until you felt a gentle spank on the right cheek.

“We’ll be the ones to make you move, baby. You just relax and take it” Bucky said from the bed. You had no idea which one.

“Although that doesn’t mean we’ll be soft” Another Bucky said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t think she wants us to be soft. Well, maybe a little?” The Sam who had your torso laying on his legs, questioned.

You looked up at him and opened your mouth to answer but before you could, he slipped two fingers into it. His other hand wandered to the nape of your neck. He started massaging it, and with a guttural moan, you spread your legs.

The Sam with your legs on his thighs now kneaded your butt, lulling you into a sense of security and comfort.

Then came the first spank. Pretty light, on the left butt cheek. You squeaked in surprise.

Before you could say anything, he landed a slightly harder spank on the right one. You whimpered.

The third spank was even harder, on the left cheek again.

The fourth spank made your ass cheek jiggle and yourself moan.

Sam continued in that tempo and alternated the cheeks with every other spank. The other Sam moved his fingers in and out of your mouth at a different pace, not giving you a chance to get used to just one rhythm.

From the couch pants and moans could be heard. Sam didn’t let you move your head, squeezing instead of massaging your neck each time you wanted to look in the direction of the bed.

“No looking, baby. You just feel and hear.”

You nodded as best as you could and felt a visceral need in your core. You tried to alleviate it, humping the side of Sam’s thigh.

“You need something more, baby?”

You mumbled around the other Sam’s fingers.

“I’d say that’s a yes” The Bucky in the middle of the bed grinned.

“C’mere baby.” Both Sam’s helped you up and got you in front of the bed.

You looked up at Bucky and he petted your cheek.

“Ready?”

You nodded and knelt in front of Bucky and another Bucky pushed your head down to make you take everything until you gagged. They both gave you short periods of reprieve when one of them pulled a little back until they made you gag again. With each gagging noise you made, you felt yourself getting wetter.

Suddenly you felt the tip of a cock between your ass cheeks. With a sigh, a sigh as if he came home, the man behind you penetrated you slowly, making you feel every inch. Bucky pushed you down quickly. The pace made your eyes water and a tear fall but that didn’t keep you from recognizing that beautiful brown skin in the corner of your left eye.

“We’re so good, we make you cry?” Sam grinned, showing his canines.

You nodded once when you heard a growl above you. Suddenly your mouth was empty and not a second later long ropes of cum hit your face.

You opened your eyes just in time to see Sam’s hand rubbing your clit as he pulled your back close to his chest. You felt the warmth of his chest and his accelerated heartbeat at your back. He bent forward to caress your neck. Sam kissed your neck and bit every spot he had just caressed. You bucked against him, trying to get him moving deeper into you. You felt him smile against your neck where he had just sucked. He pressed his index and middle finger to your clit. He tapped it and with two further movements, you felt him squeeze your neck and with a long whine you came.

You wrapped your hands around Sam’s left wrist and that did it for him. You felt him spurt into your core and your legs trembled a little with the aftershocks.

“God…” He moaned into your neck and kissed it.

“J- just me” You mumbled in a haze with a grin.

You heard several chuckles from the bed. Someone pulled you slowly up and put you on the bed. Several people stroked your body and kissed you softly. You, in turn, caressed Sam’s face and could almost hear him purr under your touch.

When you felt like you were in the here and now again, you laid on back on the bed, the head in the lap of one Bucky with one Sam kissing the life out of you. He had his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed now and then. You were moaning and whimpering continuously but you didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was because Bucky massaged your head. Maybe it was because Sam choked and kissed you so beautifully.

And maybe it was because what happened between your legs. Looking down your body, spread out like a feast, you saw one brown haired head. Two strains had escaped the low bun and stuck to his face with his spit and your slick. Next to Bucky, there was Sam. This was the Sam with longer curls. Perfect to rake your fingers through and pull him even closer to you.

Both of them licked, nibbled and sucked on your private parts and on the tighter rim a little below. Occasionally they bumped heads and shoulders, chuckling each time. Each chuckle sent vibrations through you and made you pull their hair. Every time you did that, they moaned. Even more vibrations went to your clit. A vicious cycle.

Until they stopped everything.

Although you wanted to form words of protest, nothing articulated came out of your mouth.

You saw the two grinning at each other and they rammed three fingers each in you. Three in your pussy and three in your ass. You could only moan and your back arched up.

Bucky attacked your g spot right away and Sam hammered into your ass. With the contrast of that to the kissing of the other Sam and the head massage by the other Bucky, you couldn’t focus on anything, just letting it happen. Out of the blue, you sensed something warm and wet and occasionally sharp on your nipples and your neck. You could only guess that was because of the other two.

With one more come hither motion of Bucky, you screamed into Sam’s mouth and came. You felt your walls spasm and spasm and spasm. Yet, Bucky didn’t stop. Each time your pussy let up, there was another come hither motion and Sam hadn’t stopped fingering your ass once.

Sam and Bucky bit your nipples until they were swollen and the Sam who still had his hand around your neck, squeezed.

Your body, that hadn’t ceased moving since your scream, spasmed as a whole and then everything went black.

---

As you came to again, one pair of Sam and Bucky were grinning up at you and two pairs were grinning down at you.

“There she is again” Bucky smiled.

“I take it you’re satisfied?” Another Bucky asked you cockily.

You nodded, panting.

You were maneuvered until you laid on a mountain of pillows. From that position you could see all six men gripping their erections. Your body was sweaty, spit from six men clung to it, your face was painted with the cum from one of the Bucky’s and between your legs there was a mess of the cum of one of the Sam’s and yours. Still, you wanted more. And you knew how to get it.

You made grabby hands, decidedly close to the men’s cocks. They grinned and moved closer to you.

“Please?” You made puppy dog eyes at them.

“How can you say no to this very beautiful and very naughty girl?” One of the Sam’s mumbled to himself.

“You don’t, never!” Bucky answered and started jerking faster.

You licked your lips and sat up a bit. You didn’t want to miss one second of this show. Their hands went over their cocks, faster and faster until the six faces contorted in pleasure and you saw your belly and breasts be painted by their cum. It was accompanied by several growls and whimpers.

You smiled tiredly, when the six collapsed around you. You pulled them closer, reveling in their warmth.

“Gimme some minutes, doll” Bucky whispered into your ear.

After some time, he went and got several warm wet washcloths. He and another Bucky cleaned you up softly. Only after that, did the men clean up themselves. You turned on your side, tired and sated. Sam pulled you into his chest, Bucky molded himself to your back and put his legs over yours. The other four cuddled up to you three in the middle, making you a tangle of seven people in the middle.

“Does one of you know when the first meeting of tomorrow starts?” You yawned.

“At nine” The Bucky of this universe mumbled.”

“The cyborg strikes again” A mix of a yawn and smile was audible in his voice. “Do we have to attend that?”

“I think so.”

“Ugh. And what about the four not from here?” Sam wriggled his arm free and hugged one Bucky and one Sam to his back.

“No idea” The Sam hugged by Sam shook his head.

“Let’s sleep for now. We can worry about that tomorrow” The Bucky between the two Sam’s said.

[highfaelucien]

Hmmm maybe lucien and elain playing with nyx and elain marveling at how good lucien is with children...

@bow-dawn also requested "give us elain watching lucien playing with nyx and that warms her heart enough to have a talk about their mating bond 😭" Everybody wants Lucien with babies because they know he's baby catnip. And I have no idea how children work but an attempt is gonna be made!!!!

send me ship prompts! platonic or otherwise!

Elain's arms were starting to get sore. Even with her being fae now. Arms that had stabbed the King of Hybern were somehow unequal to holding one small Ilyrian baby.

He was a very important baby, to be sure. Since he was her nephew. And the son of the two most powerful people in Prythian's history. Or so everyone kept saying.

Maybe he knew that. He was certainly doing everything in his power to make sure the whole of the Night Court, maybe the whole of Prythian, was aware of him right now, with the racket he was making.

They weren't sure which powers of his parents' the babe would inherit yet, he was too young. But he had an incredibly potent pair of lungs, of that she was sure of.

She'd been holding him for what felt like decades, bouncing him in her arms and trying to soothe him. He had managed to wear through her considerable patience, and she was now bordering on the edge of desperation.

This was her first time babysitting by herself. Feyre and Rhys had trusted her with their son, and she couldn't get him to stop crying! She was a terrible aunt. What kind of mother would she be? Unable to comfort her flesh and blood.

That thought made her stomach plummet. Had she lived out that other life, the one she sometimes saw reflected mockingly back at her in mirrors and pools, and married Greysen...She'd likely already be a mother. Would probably have at least one baby of her own.

She pushed that thought away before she joined Nyx in his crying.

"Cauldron boil me, Feyre!" A voice called from the stairs leading up to the roof where she'd taken Nyx hoping some fresh air might calm him. "What in the name of the Mother are you doing to that hellspawn child to make him scream that way?"

The voice was familiar, but unexpected. But she barely had a moment to process that before the door banged open and she found herself staring at Lucien.

"Oh," they said simultaneously.

Then Lucien, his cheeks changing colour to match his hair, said, looking abashed, "Lady Elain, please forgive me. I, I expected to find Feyre up here."

"I can tell," Elain said, giving him a little smile, "By the way you were shouting her name."

"Yes, well," Lucien muttered, looking rather flustered.

She found she quite liked that look on him. She always tended to see him as the polished, silver-tongued courtier, always composed and prepared to handle anything.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be up here. I would not have spoken to you that way if I'd known you weren't Feyre," he said, with a bow.

"Why not?" Elain said, cocking her head to one side, "I'm not some delicate flower that can't handle hearing curse words, you know," she told him, almost defiantly, "Amren has taught me many new ones. Cassian showed me how to do it in Illyrian. Rhys can be quite inventive when he's grumpy. And when all that fails, I can always just fall back on the word fuck."

He blinked at her, then grinned broadly, "Shockingly, I don't make a habit of cursing at people that I don't know all that well. Feyre and I are good friends, so she has earned my fragrant cursing at her."

"She's also High Lady of the Night Court," Elain said, raising her eyebrows, "With more power than anyone in Prythian's history has held in a long time."

Lucien waved an idle hand, "I knew her before she became all Made and Rhysandish," he told her, "Once you've seen someone puke faerie wine into a fountain of the mother at the Solstice it's hard to see them as too grand to curse at anymore."

Elain giggled at that, then winced, as that apparently seemed to upset Nyx even more.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at them, "Cursing aside," he said, leaning idly against the wall, "My question about that one still stands - what by the Cauldron have you done to him?"

"Lots of things!" Elain said, her voice snapping a little bit, "I've fed him, and I've changed him, and burped him. I've tried to put him down for a nap. I've tried to rock him, and bounce him, as swoosh him side to side. I've talked to him, and I've sung to him, and I've begged him and he still. Won't. Stop. Crying!"

Lucien smiled slightly, which made her want to smack him, because this was absolutely not funny, and she felt tears of frustration starting in her eyes.

"Feyre and Rhys trusted me to look after him on my own and I can't get him to stop crying! I don't know what I'm doing wrong," she confessed hopelessly.

"May I hold him for a moment?" Lucien asked.

Elain hesitated a moment. But Feyre had let him hold her son before. She had seen tears in his eyes when he'd done so, and it had bridged some connection between them that had never fully healed since the war. She didn't think her sister would protest, as long as she was still here.

And she was so tired. Her arms were so sore, and Nyx was becoming a very heavy and dense weight in her arms. So she nodded gratefully, eagerly pushing the little bundle into Lucien's arms.

Lucien held him with a surprising ease, as if he'd done this thousands of times before. A broad, genuine smile spread across his face as he peered down at him, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

Nyx peered up at him. Elain expected this to trigger an increase in the volume of his howling, but, incredibly, he quieted almost at once, seemingly entranced by Lucien's face, his glinting metal eye.

"There we are," Lucien said, smiling, but raised a finger as Nyx started grumbling again, "Now, now, we won't be having any of that," he told him calmly, "Ah, you have wings, don't you? Let's see then..."

Lucien carried him over to the table, unwrapped his blankets. Before Elain could protest about the cold, he rewrapped him, but gently extended his wings first, and curled them around his little body, securing them in place around him with his blankets.

"You know about babies with wings?" Elain asked, bemused.

Lucien nodded, "Certainly," he said, then seemed to consider, "Not Illyrians, and not Rhys-spawn," Elain giggled against her will, "But I'm hoping the principles are the same."

He scooped him up and bounced him. Nyx actually giggled at him, the little monster.

"How did you do that!?" she demanded, peering down at the baby, who was now lifting his chubby little hands and grabbing, as if trying to catch the glinting eye above him.

Lucien smirked, "I have a known gift," he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Elain would have whacked him for that, if he hadn't been holding her baby nephew.

"You, you've been around a lot of babies?" she asked.

Nothing in his history, though admittedly she knew little of it, had implied that babysitting had been a big part of it.

"Oh yes," he said, very seriously, "Fae with troublesome younglings came to me from all over Prythian, every court, lesser and high alike so that I could use my gifts and soothe them."

Elain put her hands on her hips and growled at him, "Don't you bullshit me Lucien," she said, as sternly as she could, poking a finger into his chest.

He snickered, still grinning at her, shifting Nyx slightly in his arms as he started to fuss again, "I have a very big family," he said, shrugging.

"I thought you were the youngest of your brothers," she said, frowning.

Lucien nodded, "True," he confirmed, "But I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and friends," he added, with a flicker of some emotion she couldn't quite read. He took a breath and added, "Regardless, they all felt that, as the Lord's seventh son, I didn't have anything better to do with my time than babysit all of their offspring. I've had a reasonable amount of practice."

"Well you saved me today," Elain said, collapsing into the seat that Rhys always liked to sit and brood in, overlooking the Sidra, "I don't know what I did wrong," she muttered, bracing her chin in her hands and sighing dejectedly.

Lucien cautiously approached, Nyx still cradled in his arms, and sat in the seat next to her, also glancing out over the city. "If it helps," he said, "You did everything right. Sometimes babes are just tricksy little bastards," he said with a shrug,

She frowned, trying to determine if he was patronising her.

"They like to be dramatic and seek for attention," Lucien told her calmly, "Especially when they have Rhysand, Night Discomfort, Death Irritate, the most dramatic bastard to ever spread drama, as their father" he added in a lofty voice that acutally sounded uncannily like Rhys.

Elain stuffed her fist in her mouth to stop herself snorting as she laughed.

"He is very dramatic," she agreed, tickling Nyx's tummy.

Lucien smiled down fondly at the babe, and for all his comments about him being dramatic, there was a tenderness in his face she had never seen before from him.

It made him look younger. His face was still scarred and strange, with that mechanical eye, but there was a gentleness in him she hadn't seen from most fae in her time in Prythian, it made her feel safe and calm.

Nyx started fussing a little again, and Lucien hushed him, and fluttered his fingers in the air above him. Little lights appeared above him, circling like a mobile and flashing different colours.

Elain let out a little gasp of delight watching him, which was echoed by Nyx.

Lucien glanced up at her, a wry smile on his lips as he said, "My magic isn't particularly powerful or impressive, but it's very good for entertaining infants."

"I think it's beautiful," Elain said, quiet, but sincere.

Lucien smiled.

Then he turned his head back to Nyx, tickling him with his free hand while the lights continued to circle, swooping down and booping the child on the nose, causing him to giggle.

Elain felt a sudden pulse of warmth and joy blossom in her chest like a swelling rose, and she let out a little, "Oh!"

Lucien glanced up at her, startled, "Are you alright?"

She put a hand to her chest, without breaking eye contact with him, "I, I fel you," she said quietly.

"I apologise," he said, looking truly sorrowful, "I usually keep better control of myself, but being around you makes that more difficult."

The little river of his joy faded away as he closed off the bond on his end.

"No!" she cried, with a desperation she couldn't quite explain, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm, "No," she repeated, more quietly, "Please don't, don't close down on me."

He raised his eyes, and held her gaze, unwavering, unfaltering. She felt that river again, the joy at holding the babe still there, but also excitement, anxiety, and almost unbearable anticipation. Though she had the sense he was trying to keep her from the worst of it.

"It's good," she whispered, "It feels good. I've, I've had dreams of you," she told him, "So much pain. So much guilt, and sadness, and hopeless need."

He ducked his head, turning away from her, seeming ashamed, "I'm sorry that you-"

"No," she said, quiet but firm, cupping his face in her hand, tracing his scar with her thumb, "No. You don't apologise to me for the things that others have done to you. You never do that," she said, with a fierceness that surprised even her.

"I shouldn't have let that touch you," he said quietly, "I, I don't want anyone to feel that, least of all you."

Elain held his gaze and, for the first time, she tentatively tapped at that string inside her, on her bottom rib, that one that extended beyond her in a way even her newfound Sight did not.

Through it, carefully, she pushed all of the depression, all of the pain, and all of the grief, and hopelessness, and even the darkness that had almost claimed her, caused her to step into it and never return.

He started, and his eyes filled with a thin veil of tears. But not because of the emotions she shared, but the fact that they were twin to his own. The fact that, as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she had felt what he had felt.

"We are the light for so many," she said quietly, "The sun that they grow towards, the thing they reach for in their own darkness, when they need hope, and someone who will always find a smile for them."

Lucien nodded, and picked up that thread she'd left dangling for him, causing one of his orbs to circle close to Nyx. The baby tried to catch it, giggling, and Elain saw that, but also the shadow it cast on his soft skin.

"But where there is light, there is shadow," he murmured, eyes not leaving hers, "That is the quiet burden we bear to be their light."

Elain nodded, and together they looked back down at Nyx, and let the warmth and joy at him flow, tentatively, between their bond.

***

thank you!! I hope you enjoyed!!!

[vina-writes]

The Pink Paradox

Written for the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Metamorphosis!

Rating: T

Length: 1.6k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy​​ for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself

(i)

Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.

Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.

It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.

���Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.

Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”

Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.

“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tacky romance novels don't count.”

“Oh. Then, no, not really.”

“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”

“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.

“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”

Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”

“Do you mean the hair, mate?”

“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.

Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.

“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.

Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.

“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.

“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”

Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.

“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.

“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”

He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.

Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.

“I heard you like my—”

“Have you read the—”

They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.

“Have you not been debriefed on—”

“I noticed you changed your—”

They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.

“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.

“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”

Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”

Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”

It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.

“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”

There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.

“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.

“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”

Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.

“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.

“You are?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t bloody know!”

“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”

“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”

Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.

“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.  

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”

“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.

“Yes I am.”

“You— you are?”

“Am I?”

Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.

Read on Ao3

[guqin-and-flute]

Ok but. What is JGY’s reaction to hearing. that. Apparently. A-Fu... doesn’t? Have a knife/lock pick on him at all times???

LXC: Why Would Our Child Have A KNIFE (the lock picks a LITTE more reasonable)

NMJ: Hmmmmm (idk What he’d say)

JGY:.....(trying to figure out how to answer ‘perverts and theifs’ without revealing more of his messed up childhood)

[WOW, I apparently wrote this months ago, put it in my drafts and completely forgot about it?? This happens when A-Fu is about 3, so before And A-Fu Makes Four. TW: Vague allusions to hypothetical and past child abuse/predatory adults]

[3zun Raise Jingyi AU] [Main Fic][Ao3 Link]

“When were we thinking he was going to get one?” Jin Guangyao idly pressed his index finger around the rim of a tiny sauce dish. The force he exerted fell into sync with the steady, confident rhythm of Nie Mingjue’s knife cuts, echoing throughout the kitchen, his eyes watching the dip and flash of the gradient of blue, like the waves of the ocean. Dark to light to dark to light.

Lan Xichen hummed in thought as he sorted the vegetables A-Fu had helped grow in the little practice garden with Huaisang near the late Second Madam Nie’s flowers. His long fingers lightly turned them this way and that against the heavily marked counter. “Their progress dictates when they receive their first spiritual tool, but they received practice swords to build their strength when--” he obligingly cut himself off when Jin Guangyao gave a light, correcting shake of his head without looking up.

“Not a spiritual tool; his first knife for defense. I was taught the precautions of it when I was much younger than him, so I wondered if you had spoken to him about it already and decided to wait.”  Dark to light to dark to--the knife strokes had stopped and there was silence. He raised his eyes and found both of them looking at him with varying degrees of confusion and concern.

“What are you talking about? We’ve barely just taught him that knives are not to be touched,” Nie Mingjue demanded with a frown. “The ‘little Baxia incident’ only happened last month. Have you forgotten already?”

Jin Guangyao bit the inside of his cheek to quell the rush of irritation at the accusation in his voice, and responded with a cool smile. “No, I haven’t.”

“Usually they begin with wooden swords to build their strength and to teach them proper etiquette. I’m confused. Have we talked about a knife before?” Lan Xichen was studying his face as if he were trying to draw the answer from him through his gaze, searching and puzzled.

A strangeness that sometimes rose in Jin Guangyao all at once widened the gulf between their lives impossibly under their gaze, yawned to show the canyon of space that separated their experiences and his own. Gentry. Safety. Comfort. The outlines of his own wickedly sharp blades, tucked into sash, sleeve, and boot seemed to warm at his awareness. As soon as he had been able to understand speech and balance on his own feet, there had been a blade in his possession and it was not until this exact moment that he realized this might not be universal.

It shouldn’t surprise him--and in a way, it didn’t. It made sense that they would feel safe within their own lands, their own homes, tucked away in neat little boxes of what was ‘yours’ and ‘mine’. They had not had to live in a place that was ‘theirs’ where you were unwelcome and unsafe. Where anyone could come and go as they pleased. Could use whatever they chose. He had just never considered that anyone would be so...arrogantly confident. Naïve. He had simply thought that perhaps they waited a little longer before teaching their children--though 3 had seemed almost egregiously old.

This was a different world that he was raising his son in. This had been an alienating mistake, once again reminding them that he did not belong, that he was not the same as them. He smiled. “My mistake, I must have misheard.”

The other two traded a look that immediately told him that this was not something they would allow him to brush past. Nie Mingjue’s frown deepened. Purposefully, Jin Guangyao relaxed his shoulders and went back to spinning the dish, as if the tension of an uncomfortable conversation was not already creeping through the room. 

“A-Yao,” Xichen said in that gentle way that felt like his hair was being stroked, but in the wrong way, prickles that were not wholly pleasant nor wholly uncomfortable. He wanted to swat away the sensation. This tone was the precursor of being Seen when he had not meant for it. “A-Fu doesn’t need to protect himself here the same way that you did. The sort people he is with are different from the ones that you grew up with.”

His press on the bowl rim was a little too hard this time, spinning it out from under his hand as it wobbled around noisily against the wood. His smile tugged up lopsided, the edge of it sharpening. Because they were alone, together, and they knew him. Because so often he was completely sheathed away. Because it was such a sweet and thoughtless thing to say. 

“Er-ge,” he said in the same patient, understanding tone he had used. “I think maybe you’ve forgotten the sort of people who visited where I grew up in the first place.” 

The silent consideration that deepened in Lan Xichen’s face was exactly the point; not pity, not shock. But the allowance of a redirection and the reminder of exactly how Jin Guangyao had come to be in this position. Who his mother was. His father. The gentry are not more civilized. Their coin makes their weight and words heavier and their rules and learning help to veil their nature. But at their core, they are just as despicable. The only true difference between them is power. 

Watching this disturbance cloud the eyes of the man he loved, he felt the bite of his bitterness melt into a dull ache, a yearning. Except you. Except the most principled and gentle of men. Beyond him, Nie Mingjue was frowning with narrowed eyes and that yearning grew barbs, the sharpness of it a million tiny pinpricks. And you, you....

“Have you seen anyone....” Nie Mingjue’s voice was a dark growl, grating to a stop before he could voice the unspeakable.

When he would have bowed his head or deepened his smile in the presence of others, Jin Guangyao instead let the mask drop away entirely and stared at him. Voice tight and low, he asked, “If I had, would I stay silent?” Would they still be breathing? hung heavy between them all, unspoken because it was unneeded, because he, of all people, knew. 

Nie Mingjue blew out a breath and considered the knife in his hands, the bits of greenery clinging to its blade before he shook his head and met his gaze again. “No.”

Well. At least they had that understanding. “No,” he agreed, bringing his voice back to mild, settling his expression. He picked up the dish and set it delicately on its side and spun it, the blurred blue whirl making a little orb slowly traversing its way over the table. “It’s simply something to consider, I suppose.”

He felt the weight of Xichen’s gaze move off of him and knew he was trading a look with Nie Mingjue that he didn’t want to unravel. So he kept his eyes on the liquid shine of that sphere. It was clear to him now that speaking to the both of them together had been a mistake. He had thought it efficient, since they so rarely could bear to inhabit the same room all together. Stupid.

“I’ll start teaching him some more hand to hand combat. Would that suffice?” The rhythmic, solid ‘thunk’ of the knife was back under the shortness in Nie Mingjue’s tone. 

A warmth pressed to his side as Xichen slid onto the bench next to him and Jin Guangyao’s hand was engulfed in his gentle grip. He did not look up, but instead used his other hand to flick the now wobbling sauce dish, tilting it off its axis so it rolled out of its spin and clattered noisily to a stop, upside down. No. “Whatever you both think is best. I suppose was being paranoid.” 

Xichen’s hand squeezed and Jin Guangyao knew there was enough strength in him to crush every slender bone in his hand. And that Xichen would never use it. “You’re being a good father,” Xichen murmured. “But, remember, A-Yao, he has us. He will never be alone.” Not like you were, he seemed to mean. Oh, Er-ge.

Did your mother mean to die when she did? He wanted to ask, oh so gently. Mingjue’s parents, Huaisang’s? Our son's birth parents? Of all people, would my mother leave me in that place willingly? His palm rested over the back of the little bowl, let the coolness of it combat the spiced and rising wet heat of the kitchen.

“A-Yao?” A murmur as, across the room, Nie Mingjue began loading the wok and loud hissing flooded over them, blurring Xichen’s quiet voice.

Jin Guangyao looked up at him; the sweet sympathy in his dark eyes, the tug of sorrow at his lips. He pulled out a smile and laid his head on Xichen’s firm shoulder. Turning the dish over, he set his finger again on the rim, tipping it rhythmically, now soundless in the boiling noise around them. Dark to light to dark to light.

“Of course.”

[lover-of-queens]

Farah Dowling is Alive Part 2

The follow up to Part 1 or as I like to call it: look mom, I told you this degree would have uses in the real world! 

If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, you can find Part 1: Here 

You know the drill, under the cut cause this is probably going to get long!

Episode 4: Some Wrecked Angel

Episode opens with our favourite trio. If you’ve read the first part then you’ll be familiar with my argument that it could be possible the writers are leaving Farah x Saul threads to pick up at a later date. I think this scene has some interesting ones. There’s a lot of effort in this scene to set Farah and Saul up as parallels - in a way that also makes them stand apart from Ben. We have them saying his name together, but also, when they discover Callum’s body, both Farah and Saul are in sync as they move into a kneeling position. 

I don’t necessarily know if this could be considered an argument for them bringing Farah back, however, in the scene with Farah, Stella and Luna, Stella brings up an interesting point about Farah’s pedagogy. We’re told that Farah chooses care and time over “solely results” when it comes to teaching. In the next episode we learn Rosalind’s own teaching style involves putting her students “through hell”. I don’t necessarily know when the change will happen but given this, I don’t see any way Rosalind can remain Headmistress, especially when they’re taking pains to show Farah as better suited for the role.

Also important in this scene is Farah and Luna’s last exchange. We know what appearances Luna has helped Farah maintain - the barrier/illusion that stops Aster Dell from being seen. So, what’s interesting is Farah’s next line:

Farah: “Yes, we’ve both done a great deal to preserve Solaria’s reputation.” 

This does not get addressed during the remaining episodes. Personally, this line and the amount of tension between Farah and Luna also strikes me as a potential thread that could be picked up later. I’m going to wager that I’m not alone in wanting to know what exactly they did to “preserve” Solaria’s rep. And my guess is, because Brian has mentioned that they’re going to expand on the winx world, we’re going to be finding out more about Solaria in S2. Theoretically, I suppose whatever event that is being referenced here could be dealt with without Farah on screen, but then we’d miss out on all the fun tension! Also, as of right now, fan response to Luna is nothing compared to Farah (at least from what I’ve seen). 

Tattoo theory, several people have already spoken on this and I don’t want to speak over them. I’m still sorting out my own thoughts on whether it’s Farah’s or Eve’s but I will say that Farah is always wearing rings so it seems to me that if they wanted it covered they could easily do it with a ring (or makeup). If the tattoo is purposely put there then I’m going to assume its for a reason that the writers may want to deal with at a later date (hint, hint: bring back Farah). 

Episode 5: Wither Into the Truth

I may do another post on this at some point if I can find enough to say to warrant it but Farah’s eye colour when she does magic. Up until now every time Farah’s done magic her eyes have glowed blue and yet in the scene where she questions Beatrix they glow light orange. Now I’d always assumed that the colour of the glow = element, which was why I didn’t know why Farah’s glowed blue to begin with; she’s a mind fairy so I would have expected the purple that Musa has. And actually the confirmation of her being a mind fairy comes from Fate’s IG page shown below, I don’t know if it’s ever explicitly stated in the show? Further, to my knowledge, Farah is the only fairy we’ve seen whose eyes glow different colours. So, a thread to pick up in season 2, perhaps? 

Also I’m very interested in the use of the word “Once”. In this instance I would almost take it to mean ‘no longer is’ but the tense is present perfect (I think?) which can suggest the continuance of an action. But now I’m being overly nitpicky and technical. Also I don’t know how ‘principle’ made it through what I’m assuming are several stages before making it onto IG, but it gave me a laugh!

“Incredibly powerful” yet loses to Rosalind without a fight? Not buying it. Additionally, the use of “other forms of magic” is interesting and I figure could be taken to mean other elements. But I wonder if there’s more to it than just that. Farah shows knowledge of archaic Fairy Magic with the Nettle Amalgam, so maybe there’s more archaic knowledge out there that she knows ... that could prove helpful. 

Now, back to the episode. When Farah and Hologram Luna are talking, the fact that there are two burned ones travelling together is cause for concern. 

Farah: “There are two of them travelling together. That hasn’t happened since … In a long time.” 

Once again we are left with a thread of something that has happened. In the same IG post as above, in the section for Saul, it mentions that he and Farah became confidants “after experiencing the Black Woods Massacre”. I wonder if that could be what Farah’s referring to here? I know the massacre has come up once or twice in conversation and correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t believe it’s ever been properly explained? To me, it looks like a great bit of backstory to get into at a later date. It may not confirm Farah being alive necessarily, but you could take it as a sign that we might see Eve again. 

Lastly, for this episode, is the scene between Farah and Bloom. Specifically this part: 

Farah: “I will help you get the answers you need. I give you my word.” 

You can probably guess what I’m going to say at this point, a thread that can be picked up in season 2! You could counterargue that Rosalind could help Bloom with answers (as she offers in the next episode) but in my humble opinion, I don’t think it would offer narrative satisfaction. First, because we’ve been shown what a terrible mentor Rosalind is. Second, they’ve spent the first season showing how Farah and Bloom’s mentor-student relationship has developed (bloomed?) so it seems a waste to go through all of that development for nothing. 

Episode 6: A Fanatic Heart

Rosalind has her little prison break. Personally, I still think there’s a lot of unanswered questions about what happened after Aster Dell, how they imprisoned Rosalind, etc. And I do hope that we get some answers in Season 2 - again these answers may not necessarily involve Farah on the screen but as every writer gets told the age old advice of “show, don’t tell”, I think there’s potential for that. 

Farah immediately tries to disprove my points about her intelligence by wandering alone in the woods at night. But she’s pretty, so I’ll allow it. 

Rosalind gives Bloom some answers but not all, so I do think that my point above about Farah helping Bloom find more answers still stands. Further, I find the Farah is Bloom’s mother theory to be unlikely for several reasons (this is not the post for them) but I do want to draw our attention to several lines of dialogue here. 

Bloom: “You hid me from Miss Dowling.” ….

Rosalind: “The guidance you needed was love. Farah couldn’t give that to you. Vanessa and Michael could.” 

There are SO many reasons why this exchange is fascinating. I’m interested in why Bloom brings up Farah to begin with - her other points could stand alone to the same affect. I’m also really interested in the direct comparison between Farah and Bloom’s adoptive parents -- if Bloom hadn’t gone to them, she would have gone to Farah? It almost seems as though the direct comparison implies that. Also, considering Bloom’s relationship with her adoptive parents, I really doubt the validity of the statement. Plus, I wouldn’t trust Rosalind’s idea of love in general. 

Also, Rosalind is just so certain that Farah couldn’t love Bloom … can’t love in general? There’s just so much of Farah and Rosalind’s relationship that hasn’t been explored that I think really needs to be. 

Now, the scene that always makes me cry! Farah and Bloom have had a difficult time this season and it’s all lead up to this moment of trust and vulnerability - on both sides. If you ask me, this season has been setting Farah up to be the mentor figure that Rosalind was not - Rosalind’s opposite. And they’ve worked hard at it, even when they were trying to convince us Farah might be the evil one which like lmao. I find it hard to believe that they would go through all of that work just to discard it by leaving Farah dead. Especially because what Farah admits to Bloom in this sequence feels like a changing moment for her - she recognizes things she wishes she would have done differently (being less of a figurehead, being more open) and I think its only fair that Fate allows her to follow through on those things. 

And onto the scene that I really don’t want to rewatch but I’m going to do it for y’all. I’ve touched on Farah x Saul moments so it’s only fair that I touch on Farah x Rosalind ones. There is tension here (looking at each other’s lips, Rosalind getting closer to Farah, Farah grabbing her), I mean the cast has joked about shipping them. But there are several different ways to read this and you are more than welcome to your pick! It doesn’t really change my point, which is … thread to pick up in season 2? Have you started taking a shot every time I’ve said that (please don’t <3). 

Farah who has shown herself to be incredibly intelligent and cautious when it comes to Rosalind turns her back on her. And we get what is probably the most important piece of evidence: the eye glow. It can mean absolutely anything, but I’d wager one of the reasons its there is to have people do exactly what I’m doing here. Theorizing about whether Farah could still be alive. I’m going to take that as a sign there’s hope (mainly because I think it would be cruel to suggest a ‘could she come back narrative’ and then … not have her come back). Also, in the Fate novel, it describes Farah’s death as “too easy”. I absolutely refuse to believe that it could be easy to kill Farah when she’s proved time and time again how powerful she is. 

That finishes my episode by episode analysis. It totals well over 2500 words. If you can believe me, I still have more to say on this topic (discussing general counterarguments and possible logistics of Eve’s filming), so stay tuned for a Part 3?

[zhanyes]

Samson

https://open.spotify.com/track/6d9QsF5RcK3kwrkjLcDinf?si=d3c40495adc44179

to @itssomekindofheaven​ who asked #13 for QuiCheng !! 

. . .

Samson by Regina Spektor

You are my sweetest downfall I loved you first, I loved you first Beneath the stars came fallin’ in our heads But they’re just old light, they’re just old light Your hair was long when we first met

 . . .

Qui wanders around the headquarters, it was surprisingly quiet today, no teenagers causing havoc, no missions to finish immediately, no kidnappings, even the hallways that always seemed to be brimming with people were almost bare. Still, he relishes in these kinds of days, when he can just lay back a little and wind down.

Without thinking, his feet drag him to the bar further down the lower hallways, it was a bar specifically made for mafiosos so they can drink their woes away without being confronted by the law. He sits down on his usual seat, giving a nod to the bartender who only glances at him before preparing his drink. He was a regular enough here that all the bartenders knows his usual order afterall.

With nothing to do, his mind wanders to He cheng, as it always seems to do, and he lets it. It’s been more than a decade since he started working with the stoic ravenette, years since they started working as partners. In those years they somehow managed to build a-not-quite-friends but not-quite-strangers-either relationships. There’s no friends in the mafia after all. Much less anything more.

He was momentarily broken off from his thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. He cheng always sits like royalty, Qui muses, back straight and shoulders tight like someone was always judging his posture even in a place for relaxation. 

He belatedly notes that his drink had already been served, the circular ice melting off in the whiskey. He runs his finger along the rim of the glass absentmindedly.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” He says simply as He Cheng orders his own drink.

He cheng gives a hum of acknowledgement to his words as he answers simply,

“I had some free time.”

They sit in companionable silence, and Qui lets his mind wander again. He wonders briefly if He cheng ever lets himself get lost in his thoughts, and if he was ever in his mind. These days he always seems so far away.

He resets his memory to when they first met, he was only 16 then, a fresh drop-out of high school, too arrogant and impulsive for his own good. He never had a good role model anyway, his parents were drunkards plunging them into a debt they’ll never be able to pay-off.

. . .

He remembers getting jumped at an alleyway by men twice his size, and he tried to fight them off and he almost won too, if one of the bastards didn’t take out a knife and stabbed him in the side. What was it again? Never bring a knife in a fist fight? Well thugs didn’t have principles, he learned.

The last thing he sees before he passes out is cold black eyes, as black as the spots he sees when his father hits him over the head with a beer bottle, staring down at him like some kind of god. For a moment he sees light, before everything plunges into darkness.

When he comes to it’s in an unfamiliar room, sterilized white like a hospital but not quite, the same black eyes staring at him. Of course his first reaction was to panic, throwing a fist at the intruder who simply, easily, caught it in his own hand like it was nothing. He learns the stranger's name as He Cheng, he saved him from the thugs and brought him to their headquarters. (“What do you mean headquarters?” “Exactly what it means. It’s a headquarter.”) 

He learns about the mafia, what it does, and how it works, and the first rule in the mafia he learned even before he got in: Nothing is done without reason and no kindness is done without anything in return.

So that’s how he signed off his life to his savior and to the mafia.

. . .

“Hey.” He calls out, giving a side-glance at the man watching the ice melt off on his own drink.

“I don’t know if I ever asked you before, but why did you save me back then?”

“You did. I answered it then too.”  

Qui rolls his eyes at the dismissive answer.

“Then tell me again. Not all of us have perfect memory, you know.”

“Because I thought you had potential to be in the mafia.”

“Is that all?”

“Did you want another answer?”

Qui paused at that. Was he looking for another answer? What was he looking for exactly? He doesn’t think he knows either.

He vaguely remembers having this conversation before, when he was much younger, more innocent to the workings of the dark world. A mafioso in training, too curious and eager to know everything.

. . .

“Why did you save me?” He asked then.

“Because you looked like you needed saving.” The He cheng of then answered.

. . .

He looked at the man again as the memory in his head ended.

“You didn’t say the same thing back then.”

“We were different back then.” He cheng answers, voice devoid of any emotion, spoken true as someone who has closed himself off to the man sitting beside him and the world.

‘We were different back then.’

Ah. Qui thought, how could he forget. About the stolen kisses at midnight, the laughs shared over whiskey and wine bottles on a bedroom floor, about scattered clothes and one-time fucks turned many. The butterflies in his stomach that eventually turned to wasps in his stomach, destroying his insides as the man he loved, he despised, he longed for, grew farther and farther away. It seems so long ago now.

‘That’s right. We were different back then.’ 

He raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip. He always thought heartache tastes a lot like whiskey, it burns and it’s bitter. He keeps drinking.

“Qui,” He cheng starts, and Qui turns to look at him. There was hesitation in his voice, eyes cold but there was familiarity in them; for a moment Qui sees the 16 year-old boy in the alleyway. He sees the same light flicker back to life, if only for a moment, before it dies before his very eyes.

“Don’t let anyone be your downfall. You might not get saved this time.” The message was clear. He cheng leaves without another word and Qui lets him, he’s left a long time ago.

“Idiot, you’ve been my downfall since you saved me the first time.” Qui mutters as he takes another sip.

The whiskey tastes bitter on his tongue.

[meichenxi]

Grimm’s Law and Verner’s Law: part 1 - Indo-European background

OR: how ‘cannabis’ and ‘hemp’ are actually cognates

tldr: sound change is cool and this great series of videos can explain it better than I can: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aal9VSPkf5s. this is going to be the first of a few posts on sound change in German and English. I originally wanted to explain the second sound shift, but quickly realised that it doesn’t make sense without any of the historical context, so please bear with me

What makes a language Germanic? Imagine for a moment that you’re an alien a la Matt Haig, newly arrived to Earth and presented with a sample of the world’s languages - or specifically, part of Eurasia’s. Some languages look very similar to each other; some very different. How would you go about building a hypothesis about which languages were related to each other, and which weren’t? How would you then test this hypothesis? And how, presented finally with data that shows your languages are related, would you explain how these changes came to happen in the first place? 

Before we go on to Germanic, though, let’s talk about Indo-European today. You guys probably all know that IE is a large language family that stretches from Icelandic to Hindi; Germanic is one of the sub-groupings of this wider IE family. Within the sub-family itself, there are divisions: German is more closely related to Dutch, Norwegian to Swedish, Icelandic to Faroese and so on. This seems all fairly obvious to us now. 

Way back when many centuries ago (not that many centuries, and certainly long after the Bible began), the idea of a language family spanning English to Russian to Farsi was a little less obvious. For much of the 17th century, people (esp a bishop dude called John Wilkins) sought to prove that English was related to Hebrew - this was an important endeavour at the time, because it would lend the language religious authority, especially in its translation of the Bible. Fast forwarding to the 18th century, a man named Sir Williams Jones who lived in Bengal realised - on account of his classical education and extensive contact with Indian languages - that there were much greater similarities between Latin, Greek and Sanskrit than anybody had previously realised. He wasn’t the first to think it, but he was one of the first to make such a definitive statement. The following quote is probably one of the most famous in historical linguistics, so I apologise for quoting it in full: ‘The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have spring from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celtick, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit, and the old Persian might be added to this family.’

He was wrong in a lot of ways - he excluded some languages that do belong in this family and erroneously included others. He also wasn’t the first to come up with this idea. This quote, more than anything, marks the beginning of people’s interest in the ‘common source’: how could such a thing ever be proven, if we didn’t have access to the language itself?  Part of the building ground for Indo-European historical linguistics was the desire to prove that linguistics was an empirical science much like any other, with laws that held universally and hypotheses that could be tested and demonstrably falsified. This rested on two principles both promoted by the Junggramatiker, or Neogrammarians, a Leipzig based group of scholars. Firstly, that sound change - the process by which sounds change, arise and disappear - was a highly regular process that held universally and obeyed certain rules. Secondly, that languages that exist today are structurally and in principle no different from languages that existed thousands of years ago - that is, we have no reason to assume that processes existed in the past that don’t exist today. This is called the uniformitarian principle. 

If both of these things are true, that means that it would be possible to not only determine how exactly these languages were related, but also reconstruct an earlier version of the language once spoken by all Indo-Europeans!! (I hope you agree that this is immensely cool.) 

Reconstructing these rules is important, because it allows us to better understand structural similarities between languages. There are some similarities which are surface deep: it’s easy to compare English cold and German kalt or warm and - well - warm, and say that they look alike. Pfad and path is a little harder, but when you compared Pfeffer and pepper it’s clear, ok, there’s a <pf> / <p> alteration going on there. Leaving the Germanic family behind, though, things get a little more tricky. 

How exactly is venue cognate with come? What about English quick and Latin vīvus? And how can sister and Hindi bahan possibly be cognates??

Some of the most meaningful observations are structural; they are not surface deep, and they’re not immediately available for study. This is because, quite simply, the time depth since Indo-European was spoken is vast; there have been extensive sound changes in all of the languages concerned. 

And that’s exactly what Grimm’s Law is. It’s a sound change that happened specifically in the Germanic branch of Indo-European, so it’s common to all Germanic languages, and nothing else. It’s one of those diagnostic criteria that an alien would use to determine that Norwegian and Dutch were related: it’s present, apart from where further sound change has obscured it, in every Germanic language - and it’s not present, apart from in borrowed words, in any non-Germanic language. That’s what we mean by diagnostic. 

Let’s have a look at some examples! We’ll explain it in more detail next time, but this might whet your appetite. Don’t worry if you can’t read the phonetic description; it’s the consonants that are important at the moment (don’t, please, ask me about vowels. just please don’t).

(nb: where I use an asterisk *, this means that this form is reconstructed, not actually attested: we don't have any records of IE. > just means ‘goes to’ or ‘becomes’ in the various daughter languages. Also <these> brackets are talking about spelling, and /these/ brackets are talking about phonemes, or actual sounds. Also, the little ‘ means aspiration - we’ll talk more about what that means next time)

*p > f (no later shift in German, though /f/ is sometimes spelled v):

Engl. brother, Germ. Bruder (cf. Lat. frāter, Skt. bhrā́tā)

Engl. full, Germ. voll (cf. Lat. plēnus, Skt. pūrṇás)

*t > *þ (Engl. th) > Germ. d

Engl. three, Germ. drei (cf. Lat. trēs, Gk. /trê:s/, Skt. tráyas) Engl. thin, Germ. dünn (cf. Lat. tenuis, Skt. tanús)

*ḱ, *k > h (no later shift in German):

Engl. hundred, Germ. hundert (cf. Lat. centum, Gk. /he-katón/, Skt.

śatám)

Engl. horn, Germ. Horn (cf. Lat. cornū)

*kw > *hw (Engl. wh) > Germ. w:

Engl. what, Germ. was (cf. Lat. adjective & relative quod, Skt. kád)

*d > *t (Engl. t) > Germ. z:

Engl. two, Germ. zwei (cf. Lat. duo, Gk. /dúo/, Skt. dvā́)

BRUH. ISN’T THIS COOL!! AND THERE ARE MORE!

You can see here already by looking at the German and English that both have sometimes subsequently undergone sound changes, like English */hw/ to /wh/ and then finally to /w/, which becomes German <w> or /v/ - these sometimes obscure things. And if you really want to find out why German is different to English, well, we’ve got quite a few sound changes to get through before we get there! 

Melissa, you might be saying, I know for a fact there’s something yucky and not-worky about Grimm’s Law. What about cases where it doesn’t seem to apply? What’s that? Also, I swear some Danish dude had the idea first but just didn’t publish...

Well. You’re not wrong. But this post is long enough already. Next time, we’ll go over what exactly it is, where exactly it manifests itself, and how it didn’t seem to work 100% of the time...and I suppose I still haven’t answered how ‘hemp’ and ‘cannabis’ are cognates...you’ll just have to stay tuned! 

Bis zum nächsten Mal! 

[polaristranslations]

Yotsugi Buddy Episode 4

As someone who'd rather involuntarily become a vampire and been turned into a thrall, it was an idea that I could have never conceived of.

The idea of creating an oddity.

Even if she said it with the mood of, "I'm going to make an origami crane," I wasn't going to slap my knee [hiza wo utsu] and go, "So there was a method like that!"

If anything, it was such a shocking suggestion that it felt that I'd been shot in the knee [hiza wo utsu]... After all, it took me so much effort to become human again, and to state it clearly, even over a year later, I was still suffering from the dependence, aftereffects, and rehabilitation from that experience.

Even though it may not seem that way...

"B-but, is it really okay to do that? Creating an oddity is a pretty big deal, isn't it? I thought that you specialists were here to prevent that from happening... I was sure it was some forbidden act."

"Yeah. It's a black that's pretty close to gray."

"So it's still black!"

"Yep. Well, everyone gets all spooked when they hear about how forbidden it is, but don't you think it'll end up being not a huge deal when we try it out?"

"Spoken like an idiot just before they make an irredeemable mistake!"

In the first place, Ononoki-chan herself was an oddity that was created—revived—through a taboo.

As mentioned previously, Kagenui-san and Teori Tadatsuru (then college students) bore witness to that revival, and thus sustained appropriate curses...

The curse of not being able to walk on the ground.

I was a college student like them, but I didn't want to meet the same fate as them.

"It'll be fine. For you, oni onii-chan, isn't it similar to the difference between a life surrounded by walls and a life spent on top of walls, right?"

"A life spent on top of walls? Speaking of which, my bigger little sister used to do that a lot, while doing handstands."

Although she didn't do that as much anymore.

Since she'd entered high school, she'd stopped going out in a tracksuit.

I wonder if she became fashion-conscious.

"Okay, listen up, Ononoki Yotsugi. Once upon a time, Shinobu and I kept going along with a mood like that, traveled through time, and ended up destroying the world."

"The result of that is too extreme for me to use as reference. Besides, weren't you in a similar mood when you saved the dying Heartunderblade in spring break?"

"Hell no I wasn't! I was completely serious at the time, and it was a serious mistake!"

"Anyway, I want you to listen up. Oni onii-chan, are you so sensible that you'd get discouraged after one or two mistakes? What would you even do with that? How pathetic. Didn't we use to do stupid things together? Nadekou has also been making some mistakes recently, but she still hasn't gotten discouraged yet."

"I know it's not my place to say this, but what the hell are you doing with Sengoku!? Don't do stupid things with her! If you're going to, do them with me!"

"That's why I'm going to do this with you right now, oni onii-chan."

It's fine, it's fine—said Ononoki-chan, making an empty promise.

But I sensed nothing but danger.

"Though I say 'turning it into an oddity', it'll only be a temporary change. A temporary and restricted monstrous change... It'll just be like a shikigami making a familiar [tsukaima]."

"A god [kami] making a demon [ma]? What kind of situation is this... It definitely has to be forbidden..."

"Didn't you say back in the bathroom that you were 'ready to take anything on'? Was that a lie? Did you lie to me?"

"I didn't realize that even a lie of that level was unforgivable in our relationship... I meant that I was ready to take anything on, as long as it doesn't anger Gaen-san, doesn't destroy the world, and doesn't dissolve my certification as harmless."

"If this little bear once belonged to sensei, then you could say it was simply 'left for safekeeping' outside of the territory. In other words, it should still have the makings of an oddity. I'm just going to accelerate that process. When you make a vaccine, you induce a virus to grow, right? It's like that."

"It sounds persuasive, but is that really the same?"

I've often read stories in suspense novels about a virus that grows out of control and destroys the human race...

"Even if this tiny little bear gets out of control, I'll be able to take it down in no time."

"Those are the words of the researcher that dies first..."

"Nothing but complaints, huh, oni onii-chan. You should have a little more faith in me. You've hired a specialist, so just leave it to me."

"Even if you tell me to leave it to you in that monotone of yours..."

She sure had guts to say something like that after those acts of violence in Room 333.

She definitely wasn't a specialist when it came to renovations.

"In the first place, creating oddities isn't even your specialty, right?"

"That's not true. Actually, there was a time when I used to live with a very skilled doll maker."

Teori Tadatsuru, huh... Well, even if the only corpse doll he made was Ononoki-chan, he'd certainly made lots of other dolls as well.

"If you absolutely can't trust me, then I don't mind throwing things over to Teori onii-chan?"

"That would be a problem. When it comes to relying on him, he's second to Kaiki in terms of how reluctant I am."

"Rather than reluctant, you just hate them, don't you? But it relieves me to know that even you have someone you hate, oni onii-chan... I'm not trying to cover for my creator, but considering I was the one to blow up Araragi Tsukihi—wouldn't you say there isn't much difference between relying on me and relying on Teori onii-chan, who kidnapped your two sisters and your junior?"

The difference is marginal—but as she said that, even if it was true, it was still a matter of feelings.

It was a contradiction that Ougi-chan had heavily criticized me for.

"That guy's still going after me and Shinobu, ignoring our harmless certification, as well as my sister, isn't he?"

"It's the same for me. I'm always thinking about killing all of you if I can get the chance."

"I hate Teori. I like Ononoki-chan. These feelings of mine will not change just because my life is threatened. I'll protect Shinobu and I'll protect Tsukihi, so that I can continue to like you, Ononoki-chan. All right, fine. I'll leave it to you. You're free to do as you like."

"How embarrassing."

You've given me more faith than I was expecting—said Ononoki-chan, hiding her face behind her hands. It was a cute gesture, but behind those hands, I knew she was as expressionless as ever.

In the end, it felt like I was taken in by Ononoki's smooth-talking, or rather, the cajolery of a specialist... However, as long as I didn't have a plan of my own, Ononoki-chan had carte blanche to do anything she wanted.

It was true that, if I couldn't count on her here, I shouldn't have relied on her in the first place. I didn't have any other choice, but right now, it wasn't like I didn't have another choice but to rely on Ononoki-chan this time.

This time, I chose, deliberately, to rely on her.

"So... What do you plan to do, specifically? Is it something we can do at this park? Or, if it's rituals, we can go to the Kitashirahebi Shrine..."

"Ah, yes, the well-known Kitashirahebi Shrine, where Nadekou writhed around in a school swimsuit."

"Don't make it sound like an indecent shrine."

"That place has already become spiritually cleansed, thanks to my all-around great efforts. It's no longer an air pocket or a hangout for bad things."

She was taking more credit than she should be, but that was certainly true... Plus, I had been the one who practically got in the way of those efforts.

"So it doesn't meet the requirements. Creating an oddity isn't just something you can do anywhere. You can't just go pon, pon, pon and pop out an oddity."

"I can only imagine you popping out an oddity like that, though... But, on the other hand, now that it's a shrine with a proper god, isn't it more suitable for ceremonies?"

"If that god finds out, we're doomed."

So you're trying to do something that will doom us after all... How about we don't do something that could get Hachikuji mad at us?

That's what I wanted to say, but after having expressed that level of trust, it was kind of hard to take it back, even as a man with no guiding principles... But, if we wanted to do it without Hachikuji finding out, then it probably wasn't a good idea to do it here in Shirohebi Park, either.

Or rather, it was a bad idea to continue this fruitless discussion here. Since this was where Hachikuji and I had first met, this park was practically her territory.

"Yes. We're going to use that concept of 'territory'."

"Mm. What? What do you mean?"

"If we assume that the abused doll and the clothes became oddities because Room 333 was sensei's territory, then turning this little bear into an oddity should also be done in her territory."

"...So we're going to return there? By this point, a commotion has to have started by now."

"Even if there wasn't a commotion, we shouldn't go back there. If you're making a vaccine, you wouldn't want to use a virus with the same potency as the actual virus."

Well, yeah.

Even the flu shot was made up of an extremely weak version of the virus, injected so our body could produce antibodies... Well, I heard that even a weakened virus could make you feel unwell, so we couldn't be too careful.

"In other words, territoriality... The best place would be somewhere with a less 'private' feeling than her home. Do you have any ideas, oni onii-chan?"

"Of course, that would be her workplace. What about the office where I first talked with Associate Professor Iesumi?"

"Her office is still a private office, right? That's still pretty high in terms of territoriality... I'd prefer a more communally used space, where other people might go. Like her favorite restaurant, or something."

"The university cafeteria... But I don't know if Associate Professor Iesumi ever ate there. In the first place, we shouldn't be doing this around other people, right?"

"I don't really mind if anyone sees, though? What's wrong with showing off our relationship?"

"Don't act like we're on a secret date. ...What about a lecture hall? The lecture hall where I take the associate professor's language course, that is."

"That would be too weak for territoriality. After all, there are a lot of other classes that go on, and isn't that more of the student's territory?"

That was how it was in university, huh... If it were a high school, I'm sure the classroom area would be fine as the homeroom teacher’s territory.

"Darn, I can't believe that the fact that I moved onto higher education would come back to bite me like this... If only I were still a Naoetsu High School student!"

"If you still were, then I bet nothing in particular would happen. You'd live a life where nothing happened, except for breaking up with Senjougahara Hitagi."

How harsh.

But, again and again, I deeply realized that I'd taken on a request from someone I knew absolutely nothing about... I couldn't think of any territory for Associate Professor Iesumi at all.

I guess it was because she was that kind of person that she was able to disappear without a trace, except for a single little bear left on the roof...

"That's for sure. Normally, no matter where you disappear to, you would usually go home at least once to prepare yourself. The fact that she disappeared directly from work makes me think that she must have been preparing this for a long time,"

said Ononoki-chan.

For her, it was just an offhand comment, possibly not even something she really believed, but those words made it click for me.

"Ononoki-chan! What did you just say!? No, before that!"

"You didn't even let me respond. What part? The fact that she disappeared directly for work?"

"No, before that—no, that was it. Sorry, sorry."

"You're just starting to sound like a guy that likes saying 'No, before that'. But what is it?"

"How about inside her car?"

I asked.

"If you close the door, it gives off a private feeling, and even though it's not a common place, she wouldn't be in it all the time, so it's not as territorial as her home or her office, right?"

"Mm... It's not bad, but I dunno. That would mean we'd have to go back to the apartment, but is that all right?"

It would certainly be bad if we went back.

On top of the tires of the cars in the parking lot all having been slashed, my New Beetle was also parked there, making it an unfavorable situation. I didn't think I wanted to return without wearing a mask of some sort.

However...

"If she disappeared directly from her office without returning home, then wouldn't Associate Professor Iesumi's car still be parked in the university parking lot?"

026

To make an unsubstantiated claim, as someone who didn't actually know Associate Professor Iesumi well, I didn't know if she commuted by car or not, and I didn't know if she left her car behind when she disappeared... If anything, if you think about it normally, you'd think a person would disappear using their car, if they owned one.

It was a very convenient vehicle, after all.

Thus, my previous statement was quite the careless statement, not backed up by anything.

However, if she wanted to completely erase her presence, instead of just simply disappearing, then driving a vehicle with license plates on the front and back was basically the same as traveling with a name tag.

Just like with her home, it felt like she would have left something like that alone, without getting her affairs in order... Maybe this line of attack had some merit to it?

I didn't expect things to go smoothly.

As long as we were expecting unpredictability, we were going to need an indiscriminate brute-force attack...

It seemed that, strangely enough, luck favored the kind of guy that liked to take detours without any plan in mind... The number of parking lots near Manase University was not small, including the one I usually used. Going through all of them would not be easy, no matter how mobile Ononoki-chan was—not only did we not know what kind of car Associate Professor Iesumi owned, we also didn't even know if it existed.

But, even so (because I was afraid that Hachikuji might find out if we kept lingering at Shirohebi Park), I figured we may as well get moving, and headed to the campus of Manase University in its summer break ("Unlimited Rulebook"—I'd taken off my frozen cap and jacket). And when we arrived, I realized something that I hadn't expected at all, but of course something like that existed.

In other words, the campus had a parking lot for staff use.

It was far from my usual travel route, and even if I had passed by it at one point, it might have left my awareness as an area that had nothing to do with me as a student... It wasn't that I didn't know everything—there was nothing but things I didn't know, this university that I attended.

Not to mention, since it was summer vacation, there weren't many cars parked in the parking lot, which was just a plain asphalt lot with orange lines painted onto it.

It was sparsely populated.

If it was like this, then we'd be able to conduct a full investigation in a limited amount of time, and, if we were so inclined, we wouldn't even need to go that far... That was because there was one car that stood out from the rest. A car with a distinctly different disposition [keiro].

Or rather, it just had a different color [iro]... Basically, it was a car that had become covered in dust and dirt. Like an abandoned automobile... Is this what happens to cars that are left uncovered for just a few days?

Just because the owner disappeared and left it alone... It looked like it was originally a pretty expensive car, too—a foreign car with the steering wheel on the left side.

"Feels like the car's been abused,"

said Ononoki-chan—it was some harsh criticism of the owner, but an excellent statement. Only a tool could express such a thing.

It seemed that the statement that "homes quickly fall into disrepair when people don't live in them" could be directly applied to automobiles, as well... It also happened to be favorable for the ritual that we were about to perform.

"No security cameras here. Good, good."

I was basically acting like a criminal by now, but the fact that this car was not parked in a contracted parking lot was really the luckiest thing... It was unknown if the bizarre phenomenon of the blanket puncturing tires in the apartment building's parking lot was captured on video, but if we were caught on video tinkering with this abandoned car, it would totally be vehicle burglary.

But we couldn't just dawdle around.

If the owner of the car was not found, the car would eventually be towed away... I wanted to hurry up. In the first place, bringing a tween girl to a university campus could easily attract attention on its own.

"Seems there's no dash cam installed, either. All right, all that's left is to hotwire the car."

"Don't talk about things you can't even do. The only thing you can do here, oni onii-chan, is keep watch."

The tween girl made me into her underling... Well, it was true that I couldn't possibly attempt to cooperate in the creation of an oddity.

"But how do you plan on getting inside? Ononoki-chan. For the record, I'm not going to let you break a window, okay?"

"What kind of ruffian do you think I am? I wouldn't do something like break a windowpane."

And with that, what the god of destruction broke was the lock to the trunk in the back of the car. While I was speechless, she slipped the little bear from my pocket.

"Then, see ya. Keep watch for about half an hour, will you? It's a job that only you can do, oni onii-chan. I'm counting on you."

She dexterously folded her body into the not-very-spacious luggage compartment and squeezed in like some girl that had been kidnapped, closing the lid from the inside.

I see, she didn't have to sit in the driver's seat or the passenger seat to perform the ritual... With the trunk lid closed like this, no one would be able to see what was going on from outside, so the choice of the trunk area was a pretty nice idea.

Even if there were no security cameras or dash cams, it took a certain amount of bravery to perform a questionable ritual in a car for half an hour—and for Ononoki-chan, the darkness inside the trunk was nothing to be feared.

I couldn't help but get curious about what sort of forbidden ritual was taking place inside the trunk to breathe life into that little bear (I could hear an odd wriggling sound—wriggling?)—but it was probably better for me not to know.

A careless guy like me...

I'd been told to keep watch so that nobody interfered with Ononoki-chan as she put her heart and soul into that little bear, but considering that a guy who wasn't even a staff member loitering around the staff parking lot was plenty suspicious, I almost thought it would be better if I joined Ononoki-chan in the trunk. The fact that she didn't give me the time to do so was probably because she didn't want me to learn anything unnecessary, on top of how already cramped it was in the trunk.

Despite all she said, she was a rather considerate tween girl... I guess she was leaving me out of the loop so that I didn't get cursed even more.

Certainly enough, the curses placed on me by my childhood friend were more than enough... Plus, she was the one that started this whole thing.

Oh, that lovely girl.

On the other hand, on the flip side, you could say that Ononoki-chan was just willing to take on that much risk—for a professional, it probably wasn't that big of a risk, but it still made me a bit anxious.

So that I wasn't just dragging my feet, I decided to at least act like an admirable student, industriously cleaning my professor's abandoned and dusty car—I didn't have any cleaning fluid or brushes, so I couldn't do much, but I could at least brush away the dirt with my hands. I even thought about using my ski cap as a towel, but decided against it, thinking it would be a bad idea to clean someone else's car with something that was once covered with drool.

As I did so, I could see the inside of the car through the window, but there was nothing unusual about it—no stickers or decorations on the seats... Also, there were no stuffed dolls from a crane game lined up in the back seat or anything like that, either.

Well, even if I were to break into this car, there wasn't any sort of fabric that could come and attack... No, wait, was it possible for the floor mats to come flying at me?

"......?"

There, my hands that were wiping the windows paused—partly because my hands were getting so dirty that they were no longer useful for cleaning, but also because I had a strange feeling about the interior of the car.

As mentioned before, there shouldn't have been any cause for concern inside the car, and yet my attention was drawn to something... Unlike the third bedroom where that father doll lay, it didn't give off the impression of being a set. It didn't feel like a car displayed at a car dealership... It had the feeling of being lived-in, the feeling of being used.

Then what part of the car was bothering me?

If only I were the kind of person that could get flashes of inspiration. Then life would be so much easier... Although something like that seemed more tiresome.

If only I had a button to give me a flash of inspiration.

In the first place, there weren't enough things inside the car to worry about... Maybe this was the kind of thing where I was not worried about something "being" there, but something "not being" there?

But, the steering wheel was there, the accelerator and the brake were there... The back mirror was there, the gear shift was there, the parking brake was there... Maybe something that wasn't so fundamental?

Was I just concerned about how the steering wheel was on the left side? But, my New Beetle also had its steering wheel on the left side, so I was actually pretty used to that—something my car had that this car didn't... Not only in the driver's seat, but also in the passenger seat—

"...Ah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah."

I got it, I got it. When I figured it out, it was almost shameful... Honestly, I didn't want to describe it. But now that I'd made myself so obvious, I couldn't just keep my mouth shut about it, even if it might not have anything to do with the main topic.

It was the passenger seat—the child seat.

In my New Beetle, the passenger seat was equipped with a child seat for Shinobu's use, but this car just didn't have one—because both cars had steering wheels on the left side, I was able to feel that sense of discomfort.

Good grief, what was I doing, getting all preoccupied in the middle of more pressing issues? In terms of the mise-en-scène of a child seat, there were more cars that didn't have them than did... After all, if you didn't have children, it wasn't an essential element at all—if you didn't have children?

But Associate Professor Iesumi was a mother with a three-year-old daughter...

Hm? No, "Iie-chan", the three-year-old daughter, was actually the Iie-chan doll... But if Associate Professor Iesumi thought that the doll was "her own child", then...

The doll was the target of abuse, so she didn't provide it a child seat as part of the abuse? Well, that could be the case.

If it was locked up in a cage, then it wouldn't have had a chance to go out with her—but it wasn't locked up all the time, and there must have been a time "before the abuse"...

Besides, it was a legal obligation to install a child seat, right? I liked the way Shinobu squeezed in tightly into that small seat, so I set mine up without regard to the Road Traffic Act, but when I looked it up when I bought the car, it was mandatory to install a child seat when taking a child under the age of six into the car—by the way, Shinobu's outer appearance was that of an eight-year-old.

There were even those who thought that babies shouldn't even be put into cars for safety reasons... But not even I thought that we needed to be that much of a stickler. While we're on the subject of the law, child abuse was an unforgivable crime in the first place... However, when I remembered the "remnants of affection" I felt from the nursery, I wasn't sure if it made sense to remove and dispose of the child seat because she didn't think of Iie-chan (the doll?) as cute.

Associate Professor Iesumi's abuse came in the form of abandonment.

That's why the fruit knife stabbed in the back was a clear contradiction—then, shall we assume the child seat was removed by someone else? But I was pretty sure that child seats were treated as oversized garbage in most areas... It was obvious that getting rid of one would be troublesome.

I'd been regretting becoming aware of this, but that regret was quickly changing into a different kind of regret... I had a feeling that if I continued to think about this, the end goal would be good for nothing.

Earlier, I'd wanted a button for a flash of inspiration, but now I wanted a button to undo it—such a self-centered wish would normally not get fulfilled, but it seemed luck was on my side here as well.

If I hadn't used up all my luck yet, I would have preferred it take my side in a different scene than this one... Anyway, my thoughts, which I couldn't stop on my own, were interrupted by an external impetus.

When I noticed, it turned out that much time had passed, as Ononoki-chan said, "Thanks for waiting, oni onii-chan," and crawled out of the trunk.

"Rejoice, for the ritual has succeeded. Look."

But even if she told me to look.

The result was not exactly something I could rejoice over—when looking at the little bear doll standing atop Ononoki-chan's hand, and when looking at Ononoki-chan's face half an hour later.

This was the first time a change occurred in Ononoki-chan's face, which had always been expressionless—I wanted to opt for a description that was as appropriate as possible, but the more I twisted it, the more disturbing it became. So, to say it outright.

Ononoki-chan's right eye had been gouged out—turned into a hollow cavity. And.

In the face of the little bear doll wriggling atop her hand, her right eye had been implanted.

027

Thrall-making. Familiar.

The process of embedding a part of your own body into a doll to make it an alter ego—simply put, that's all it was, but it was still frightening.

Fear [kyoufu] prevailed over amazement [kyoutan].

Rather than devoting one's heart and soul [shinketsu], it was more like devoting one's flesh and blood [ketsuniku].

Since her design was that of a tween girl, I never thought that Ononoki-chan's appearance was scary, but now that she was speaking to me with one eye hollowed out yet still expressionless as ever, it was kind of horrifying.

It was both expressionless and not expressionless at the same time.

Although, it was probably more normal to be afraid of the little bear doll that was moving bizarrely like a marionette in Ononoki-chan's palm... No, don't get confused. A little bear doll with an eyeball embedded in it was plenty scary.

It was scary enough that I could even faint right here.

I'd noticed that the little bear doll had been old and both eyes were missing, but I didn't expect Ononoki-chan would try to "repair" the missing parts in such a way...

She'd created a bug-eyed monster, hadn't she.

"A-at this point, we really won't be able to make an anime out of this... Of course I wouldn't be able to participate in the ritual."

"Weren't you an eyeball fanatic, oni onii-chan? You're pretending to be scared, but really, your heart's skipping a beat at this eye socket, isn't it?"

"Don't try to push a preference worse than lolicon onto me. Eh? Did it really have to be an eyeball? Isn't it normal to use something like hair for making an alter ego?"

"Well, I'm not Sun Wukong. That would have been fine, too, but the centerpiece [medama] of this mission was to have the familiar guide us, so I figured using an eyeball [medama] was a good idea."

"That's not a funny joke. What makes you think you can get a laugh out of me right now?"

"Your viewpoint."

"It wasn't my viewpoint that was wrong. It's my judgment [megane]. It was a terrible misjudgment to leave this to you."

"'The eyes, huh [me ga nee]', you say? Well, that's what you get from just five thousand yen."

I'd thought for sure that it was a clever line, but it turned out she was cutting corners because of her fees... It was hard to come across a buyer's remorse as bad as this. As for "the eyes, huh," she was skimping on even the gags.

Well, in terms of pupils, I suppose holes were naturally a part of eyes...

"Damn, if it was going to be like this, I should've crowdfunded one yen from every person in Japan and paid one hundred million yen..."

"Don't talk about elementary school fantasies as if they're modern management techniques."

"But... Ononoki-chan, putting aside gags [gyagu] and fees [gyara], are you really okay? With that eye socket. Is that something you can fix later?"

"I don't need your concern. I'm a corpse, after all. This level of damage doesn't even hurt or itch. Feel free to shower me with thunderous applause. Or you can just rain down kisses upon this eye socket."

"Don't try to test my affections."

"Not to mention, I've been in a worse state when I played around with Nadekou."

"Really, what the hell are you doing with Sengoku?"

"It'll go back to normal if I put it back. In the worst-case scenario, if it doesn't go back, I can just become an eyepatch character."

"Don't try to change your character after all this time! You're already decked out just as you are, Ononoki-chan!"

"It's nice to hear that, but don't think that what you see now is all of me. I had an eyepatch during the war, you see."

"At the Battle of Waterloo?"

"Non. During the Ononoki War."

"There was a war with your name on it!?"

They probably wouldn't teach that in history class.

If it wasn't an irreversible change, then it made me a little relieved, but from now on, I had to make sure I didn't make any careless requests to Ononoki-chan.

She wasn't afraid to hurt herself.

I'd totally forgotten about what I was thinking about... Something about a seat? Or a sheet? Maybe a cooling sheet? I certainly wanted to cool myself down.

Well, to take my eyes off of Ononoki-chan for a second... Not as a gag—literally, take my eyes off of Ononoki-chan.

And look at the little bear doll that was infused with a soul through a horrible, squirming ritual.

Rather than a familiar, it felt more like some sort of talisman... Huh? At some point, it disappeared from Ononoki-chan's hand?

When I looked, I saw that the little bear doll with the eyeball had jumped off while we were fiercely clashing, and that it had begun lumbering along the lines atop the asphalt of the parking lot... It looked like it was about to fall over, and when I thought it would, it held its head high and regained its balance.

Even its movements were frightening...

It felt like some new life form that human arrogance created from scratch through genetic experimentation... Of course making something like this would be forbidden. I would have to accept whatever punishment Gaen-san threw my way... Whoa, it came this way.

"Shall we give it a name? I might even get attached to it. This is something I just thought of, but how about Koyomi?"

"You should at least give it a name related to Associate Professor Iesumi, or even a name related to yourself."

"You sure are noisy, Koyomi #2."

"I'm #2?"

"Make way for Koyomi, Koyomi #2. Otherwise I'll demote you to #3. The navigation has already begun."

Huh... So it wasn't just wandering aimlessly, but already trying to return to its original owner...

At first I wasn't sure if it would work, but if the flying blanket was headed to Associate Professor Iesumi for revenge on its abuse, then it wouldn't be strange if this little bear doll had the same latent directionality... Rather, this doll was the only one here that was doing its job as instructed.

Look what Ononoki-chan and I have become.

"But isn't it bad that it's going so smoothly? I mean, it's a little bear doll with an eyeball, walking around in public where anyone can see."

"It's going smoothly, so we can gouge out some eyes for the trivial stuff."

"Gouge out some eyes for the trivial stuff!? You mean turn our eyes away from the trivial stuff, right?"

"I'll gouge out the eyes of anyone who sees it."

"I can't turn my eyes away from that. I'm going to tell Kagenui-san."

"It's something onee-chan often says, though. Come on, oni onii-chan, don't be silly. Just pretend you're Geppetto."

"You're assigning me one of the hardest acts of all... So basically, I have to act like I'm controlling a marionette with piano wire, right?"

"That's right. The setting is that we're both new members of a circus club. I skipped a grade, and my specialty is riding the trapeze."

"If you're going to pay that much attention to the setting, you should've planned things out a little more carefully from the beginning. We're being way too haphazard."

"Speaking of haphazard, here. I found some mineral water in the trunk. I guess it's for emergencies in case of a disaster, but the fact that it's carbonated water does feel like a sensei from Europe. Hold onto it."

"? I'm not really thirsty, though?"

"Pour it on the bear if it starts going wild."

She was pretty hard on it after giving it a name, especially my name... She wasn't getting attached to it at all.

"Even if we do successfully find her, I'll feel morally responsible if the bear ends up finishing off that intellectual sensei."

"You wouldn't just be morally responsible, you'd be completely responsible!"

Once again, I realized how forbidden this all really was.

Although it already looked that way from the bear doll's wobbly movements.

Originally, with the size of the little bear doll being what it was, it wasn't exactly designed to be able to stand upright, let alone walk, and the eyeball attached to its head made its balance even worse...

"Employing a familiar is kind of like taking care of an animal. It's the owner's responsibility to take care of it, up to the point of killing it, right?"

"For a moment, I thought you were going to give me a lecture on taking responsibility for life or something, so I was going 'ugh' in my head, but Ononoki-chan, that's not quite right."

But true, "the weakness being water" was something I'd figured out a little while ago... So this familiar was no exception.

But this weakness didn't seem to matter to Ononoki-chan, who opened the lid of her own plastic bottle and gulped down the water—she must've gotten tired out from the ritual.

"Pwaah. Well, it's not chilly at all. Lukewarm carbonated water sure is peculiar."

"Well, it was in the trunk after all... Ononoki-chan, I thought about this when you blew away that father doll, but you're pretty cold to dolls despite being a doll, huh."

"Are you saying I'm the one who's chilly? But I'm not chilly [hieteinai], and I wouldn't say that [ieteinai]. It's not despite being a doll, but because I'm a doll. I don't even have normal empathy. No naive feelings of hating something similar to me. Did I act in a way that made you misunderstand? A doll is a doll. Isn't empathizing with dolls the domain of humans? For oni onii-chan, and for the intellectual sensei."

"......"

I was flustered just by the sight of Ononoki-chan's eye socket, so it was hard to argue back. Empathy, huh...

"Are those thoughts what causes doll oddities to be formed?"

"Who knows. I don't think onee-chan and the others put that much thought into bringing me back to life—come on, if you don't keep up, we'll lose track of the bear."

"Ah."

I had thought it was just wandering around aimlessly, but I realized that the eyeball-attached little bear doll was slowly tottering forward, as if in a game of "Red Light, Green Light"... There was no way it could've made it that far at the speed it was waddling, but was it speeding up whenever I didn't have my eyes on it?

But, if it wasn't going to move at that speed, then the sun was definitely going to set on us... Especially since its stride was short, and it didn't seem to be able to fly like the Iie-chan doll.

"Right, I kept its functionality to a minimum. Like I said, it's a weakened version of the virus. You don't want it to go out of control or make more companions, right? It doesn't have any will or any feelings. If you want to think of it like this, it's basically a radio-controlled car."

"Then, instead of just following behind it, we should try to keep figuring out where Associate Professor Iesumi disappeared to."

It was better to think of it like a compass, not a state-of-the-art navigation system... The theory that it began to maneuver at high speeds when we looked away was intriguing, but we wouldn't be able to recover if we inadvertently let it run off into the wild.

Hm... Huh?

But, where was it going?

If it went that way, it would run into the school building... Was its intelligence suppressed to the point that it couldn't even avoid walls? In that case, it was a bit pitiful, but when I thought about how this sort of compassion was what put the world in danger, I suffered from a dilemma that I didn't need to suffer from—and then.

At that point, my cell phone rang.

I received a message. Actually, two messages, at almost the exact same time.

Holding the plastic bottle in my other hand, I pulled out my cell phone and checked the senders of the text messages, making sure not to take my eyes off of the eyeball-attached little bear doll.

It seemed there was good news and bad news—in other words, the senders of the two messages were Hamukai Meniko and Araragi Tsukihi.

When I checked the bad news (in other words, the message from Tsukihi), the star-laden message said that the hike ended with no bodies being found, so she really was going to go visit Nadeko-chan's house now, because she didn't want to lie to her best friend.

Sengoku.

I had nothing but apologies to offer you.

And now for the good news—no, based on the content, maybe I should classify this as bad news as well.

"Araragi-chan~ I finished deciphering that thing you sent me~ Sorry it took me so long~ Full text below~"

Even in text, her usual lax attitude came through. But below that, the message read,

"(* It contains some grotesque expressions, so prepare yourself~)"

I couldn't help but think that the line of text was unusually unsettling for Meniko.

"......"

"What's the matter? Oni onii-chan. Did you get some kind of weird text?"

In response to Ononoki-chan's natural question that arose when I suddenly stopped in my tracks...

"It's a testament,"

I responded frankly.

"What arrived was sensei's testament."

"? 'An'ya Kokoro'?"

028

"To Araragi-kun.

"I'm leaving you this letter with peace of mind because I don't think you, my proud student, have the language skills to be able to translate it.

"Now, where should I start? There's so much to talk about, though.

"How exciting.

"But don't take it too seriously.

"After all, my life has been full of lies. I've somehow managed to cheat and deceive my way through life, pretending that it was all real.

"I have no idea what it feels like to be up front about my true feelings. Isn't opening your mouth to speak basically the same as lying?

"Just kidding. Even a claim like this, I'm not really serious about—I just thought it would be a good way to start this letter. It may as well be sleep talk.

"I'm pretty good at sleeping, you see. That's the truth.

"I've spent my whole life sleeping, and I've spent my whole life dead—rather, I was never even alive.

"Because I'm a doll.

"Yes... I suppose I should begin there. If I'm going to confess.

"Araragi-kun, I've lied a lot to you in the short time we've known each other, so in order for you to forgive me, I want you to be able to sympathize with me first.

"I want you to consider the extenuating circumstances.

"I'm pathetic and pitiful, so I absolutely need for you to think that you'll forgive me... Well, I never actually considered it in that way, but maybe you'd be more easily convinced if I said it like that.

"You'd rather not think that you were tricked and taken advantage of by a crazy adult, right? It doesn't sound very convincing to say it here, but I want children to be able to believe in adults.

"'I don't want you to become like me.' It's an old and oft-repeated line, but I wished that someone would have told me the opposite.

"'Become like me. Life is fun.'

"I wanted to meet an adult that would say that to me... Oops, don't worry. That doesn't mean I'm going to say that you should become happy in my place.

"There's no need to worry about that.

"Araragi-kun, I'm sure what you care about the most is 'why I chose you', and the rest may not matter at all to you, but I'd like to put on airs and save that answer for the end.

"I'll save the fun for the very end.

"Because, while it probably isn't a fun answer for you, I want you to read to the very end.

"One thing I will say, though, is that Oikura-san really isn’t involved... Please understand that it's not her fault.

"Please be gentle to her.

"Now, it's time for class to begin. Enjoy."

029

"The person I respect is my father, and the person I respect is my mother.

"I have to say, it's those college seniors on the job hunt that can answer the interviewer's questions with those words that I truly respect and love.

"That I hold in high esteem.

"Somewhere inside me, I have the feeling that familial love is a wonderful thing. But, you see, it was only inside me.

"It wasn't in the house.

"And it wasn't in the cage.

"We talked about something like the cycle of abuse, right? You know, where you aren't able to love your children because your parents didn't love you... But, in that sense, my parents were fine people.

"They were a fine pair.

"They got their dream jobs, were active in a foreign country, and even obtained citizenship there... I believe they were respected and loved even by the people around them.

"They were a fine pair, and it was just that that pair couldn't become a fine trio.

"Daddy was a pediatrician, and Mommy was a fashion designer for children's clothes... I'd never really thought about it in this way, but in a way, they were both specialists of children.

"Specialists.

"And I think they were good at it. Daddy didn't let me die, and Mommy used to make clothes for me all the time.

"Hagoromo is a pretty unusual name for my generation, don't you think? It's a name that Mommy gave to me. Meaning 'a robe of feathers'.

"The legend of the hagoromo.

"I can go on and on about how they came to Switzerland, how they achieved success there, or perhaps even the romantic tale of how they met, but, yeah, I'll stop here.

"I don't feel like bragging about my parents. I wouldn't do something so embarrassing. For reasons beyond just embarrassment.

"But, well, when I look back on myself, it's like I've done similar things, in a similar position, right?

"I wonder if they've been through something terrible, too. I wonder if that's why they gave me such a hard time.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

"There's a saying like that, right?

"There's also a saying that goes, 'The child is father to the man'—I'll quote this saying again later, so remember it.

"Because I want you to warn me if I forget to do so.

"I said that it was time for class to begin, and I'm starting to use the same tone of voice as in my lectures out of habit, but, well, I'm not really qualified to teach... I say 'habit [kuse]' but it's really despite [kuse ni] being me. I said it as a metaphor, but at the same time, it means exactly what it sounds like.

"If I'd been an honest person, I wouldn't have been able to work at a national university. Even if you don't manage to decipher this letter, Araragi-kun, I'm sure someone will eventually find out. That I was a fake teacher.

"Don't get me wrong. My parents definitely loved me. Thinking like this could be a form of Stockholm Syndrome, and you might criticize me for being complicit in my parents' actions, but still, even if it was a bit warped, I would say that was still love.

"Although the idea that parents will always be parents to their children, even if they are abused, makes me sick.

"At the very least, even though I had never attended any kind of school, not even for a day, I was still provided enough education to be able to teach at a foreign university. Although it's a bit ironic to think that my longing for school was what made me a university professor.

"They did love me.

"But, they didn't pay me any respect.

"Do you get it? In other words, they didn't treat me like a human being.

"They treated me like a doll.

"They took care of me like a toy.

"I was a teddy bear to those two.

"Bears are cute, aren't they? I wonder why they're so cute?

"But, it's only the children that are cute.

"Adult bears are scary. You can't call them with '-chan'. You end up wanting to use 'sir' or 'madam'.

"I'd like to say that only pandas are cute even when they grow up... But even pandas are cuter as children.

"Have you ever been told that, Araragi-kun? 'You used to be so cute as a child.' Well, children don't grow up the way parents want them to. Like how characters move on their own in the culture of Cool Japan, I guess?

"Anyway, about my parents.

"About my home. About my cage.

"I was their little teddy bear... and they didn't want their little bear to grow up so quickly. They really, really didn't want it—they wanted me to stay their adorable little baby forever.

"So.

"They stopped raising me."

030

"First, they threw me into a handmade cage. They carefully transferred me from a crib to a cage.

"You know how they say you shouldn't keep a goldfish in a large tank? Because they'll grow to the size of the tank.

"If you want to keep the goldfish small, you shouldn't keep it in a tank that's any bigger... Well, I figure it's more like an urban legend, but that's what they did.

"As specialists. As parents.

"To their own child.

"They imprisoned me in a meticulously calculated cage—not because the baby would move around and mess up the house, not because it was troublesome if the baby followed them around—but because they didn't want me to grow taller or gain more weight than the length, width, and height of the iron fence.

"It was an act filled with love.

"It was an act filled with hope.

"'I hope that Hagoromo-chan stays small forever.'

"'Please stay cute forever, Hagoromo-chan.'

"I don't really remember what it was like as a baby, but I surely had to have cried out because of such discomfort.

"It would have been a high-pitched scream.

"But it's a baby's job to cry.

"So as they watched me cry, they considered me the most lovely little thing—the abuse against me did not even involve discipline.

"They were trying to spoil me.

"It really makes you think, doesn't it?

"What kind of upbringing did they have to have to become parents like that... Would it be comical to say that I wanted to see their parents' faces?

"There should be four of my grandparents here in this country, but I don't think I want to meet them... They're probably not even alive.

"Well, if you've been trapped in a place for as long as you can remember, you'll end up thinking it's completely normal.

"At some point, I stopped crying.

"Because crying was a waste of water.

"Water was important. For the sake of staying alive. The only effort I could make of my own volition to stay alive was to 'not cry'.

"So, after being trapped like a foie gras goose, unable to move, I was constantly stuffed with food, just like a foie gras goose—but of course you don't think that, right?

"In fact, it was the opposite. I'm sure you can imagine.

"Daddy and Mommy didn't even try to nourish me. Because, if I did, I might grow.

"Breast milk was a no-no.

"I know I said I didn't remember anything from when I was a baby, but I can vaguely remember my mom in the kitchen, milking her own breasts and throwing away all the nutrients I needed to grow.

"I get that feeling. It could just be a false memory. Maybe, because it was a waste, she gave it to Daddy to drink. Sorry, that was an adult joke.

"All I drank was just water.

"But I wasn't badmouthing it by calling it 'just water'... After all, it was how I maintained my transient life.

"Just a transient life.

"But, since water was all I had to drink, you can pretty much guess what my food was like, right? Do you think you can answer correctly if I gave it as a quiz? It's a question that ninety-seven percent of babies can get right.

"At the very least, there was no need to wean me off of milk onto baby food. I didn't need to be weaned, because I wasn't even drinking milk in the first place.

"Basically, I was given nothing to eat.

"If you don't eat, you don't gain weight. Maybe I should put out a book called 'The No-Eating Diet'.

"How should I put it? I felt like I was almost dried out. Like a flimsy mummy that was nothing but skin and bones—like tanned leather. So it was like water brought me back to life.

"But it wasn't like that water was unlimited. So it was normal for me to not eat or drink... But, maybe once every three days, once every five days, once every week, once every month, I was given some fruit to eat.

"An apple, a pear, a banana, a tangerine, a melon, an avocado, or a durian.

"Daddy used a fruit knife to peel it and cut it to the size of my mouth. My mouth was small, after all. Like a puckered-up mouth, I guess? My teeth weren't coming in at all.

"Were you thinking that I was being fed something surprisingly nutritious?

"Indeed.

"Although, all I was fed was the peel. The apple, the pear, the banana, the tangerine, the melon, the avocado—the peel of those fruits.

"Being in a state where I was like tanned [namesareta] leather, all I did was lick [nameru] the peel that I'd been given.

"Doesn’t it sound like a tongue-twister?

"They say that the flavor of the fruit is concentrated near the skin, but I wonder if that's really true? At the very least, with that being all I ate, my limbs didn't grow very quickly.

"Mommy and Daddy's wish had been completely fulfilled.

"They made their dreams come true.

"I had become a baby that didn't grow.

"I kept the weight I had when I was a newborn.

"Of course, I was chronically undernourished, which made me prone to illness, and I suppose I was more of a handful than most babies. Daddy was basically constantly at home, giving me treatment...

"Mommy turned me into her dress-up doll.

"She made tons of clothes for me. Clothes filled with love. I was like a mannequin... I was immobile, after all. I could move even less than a mannequin. I was capable of wriggling around in the cage, but I didn't want to waste my energy on something so pointless.

"You'd be on the right track if you said I was playing at being a statue.

"Have you ever felt like you might die just because you turned over in your sleep? It's thrilling and addictive.

"And since I was such a frail person, putting on Mommy's clothes was draining... The clothes must have weighed more than I did.

"Well, my name is Hagoromo, after all.

"It wouldn't be strange if I was light enough to fly... By the way, what kind of story is the legend of the hagoromo, again?

"A man found a heavenly maiden bathing in a lake in the forest, stole her robe of feathers hanging on a tree branch, and forced her to marry him if she wanted it back?

"Amazing. There's nothing but crimes there.

"I can't help but wonder if there was a baby born between the heavenly maiden and the voyeuristic, larcenous, and blackmailing man. I don't know how it ends, but I sincerely hope it's not, 'And so the family lived happily ever after.'

"Anyway, I grew up just like the name my parents gave me... A life like cloth, flimsy and light.

"To sum it all up.

"In a cage in the corner of the room, I survived as the doll of a baby, never growing up—for over twenty years."

031

"I reached adulthood while still a baby.

"To be honest, I'm surprised I didn't die. To think that I was a baby for longer than you've been alive, Araragi-kun—it's hard to believe.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was all a dream... And I want to wonder if I had actually been raised warmly in a happy family.

"By the way, although I said I'd reached adulthood, the age of adulthood is different in Switzerland compared to Japan. Moreover, I'm pretty sure they never filed a birth registration, so I surely wasn't even recognized as a person.

"At the very least, my neighbors hadn't been aware of my existence... Apparently, there are countries in which it's a crime if you don't report hearing a child's cries, but as mentioned before, I was an abused child who didn't cry.

"Daddy and Mommy. Their abuse was most likely made possible due to their strong bond and their cooperative attitude.

"However, it seems their opinions clashed when it came to how they wanted to educate me—and, as a result, it saved my life.

"But it was only as a result. The process involved me getting stabbed in the back, you see...

"Daddy wanted to make me a child prodigy.

"Mommy wanted me to remain as a fool.

"In other words, Daddy wanted me to be cute on the outside and smart on the inside, but Mommy wanted me to stay a baby on the inside as well... In reality, it wasn't so simply divided, and both of them probably had mixed feelings, but the basic attitude was that Mommy kept talking to me in baby talk, while Daddy tried to teach me the four languages of Switzerland.

"He was a doctor, so did he have a belief in education? Or maybe he was just infatuated with the baby genius archetype... The only exception to that strict 'no growth' policy was 'education'. Behind Mommy's back, that is.

"That 'education' eventually led me to my current job, but before that, one of the few things I'd been given was the ability to speak, which was what saved me. I'm sure that wasn't Daddy's intention, but children don't grow up the way parents want them to.

"No matter how much I suffered from malnutrition, I wasn't just in a daze for twenty years. No matter how much I thought being in a cage was completely natural, if I devoted myself to reading the example sentences for language-learning, I would end up learning what was outside the cage.

"There were even hints from listening to my parents' conversations... If I could understand the language, I could talk. And if I could talk, I could converse. And if I could converse, then I could persuade.

"I set my sights on Daddy.

"Thinking about it, I was a terrible daughter, to try and drive a wedge between her parents... But if their cooperation was the key to their success in concealing my abuse, then I had no choice but to destroy that partnership.

"I didn't think I could stop their abuse.

"But I did think I could make it end—it was about when I was a fifteen-year-old baby, or perhaps a little later. I began to beg my dad.

"'Please kill me,' I said.

"...I wasn't being serious. I was just trying to appeal to his conscience.

"Well, that's just what I'd like to say, but I probably was being serious. There was no doubt that I felt that I wanted Daddy to kill me if possible. That feeling was probably stronger.

"'If you love me, then kill me.'

"'Use that fruit knife to stab me.'

"'I don't want to be alive. I want to die.'

"Whenever Mommy wasn't around, I kept trying to appeal to Daddy... The process of persuasion wasn't very easy, and it took quite a long time, and I couldn't even say it was successful.

"But, about five years after I'd begun to say that.

"Daddy finally stabbed me in the back.

"His love was real.

032

"However, I didn't manage to die there.

"In fact, the one who died was Daddy.

"After discovering me with a fruit knife stuck in my back, Mommy became frantic and stabbed Daddy in the face, and so he died tragically.

"And after that, Mommy disappeared... Or should I say she fled? Since she concealed herself after killing her partner.

"Though I failed to get killed, I guess you could say I succeeded in destroying the bond between my parents... And so, staff members at Mommy and Daddy's workplaces visited the house, concerned about the two of them not showing up for work, and discovered Daddy's dead body.

"They also discovered me, on the verge of death... Well, I had always been a baby on the verge of death, but now, with a fruit knife stabbed in my back, it was a 'verge of death' easy for even a beginner to understand.

"For what it's worth, the only reason I survived was because of my malnutrition... Daddy, being a doctor, apparently aimed precisely for my heart, but apparently my heart was thinner than a normal baby's? It was teeny? So the blade of the fruit knife didn't even graze it.

"I wonder if it was good luck.

"I suppose the fact that it was from behind was another factor in his failure. If Daddy had had the guts to face me from the front, it surely would have been fulfilled.

"Both his aim and my desire.

"This isn't about the legend of the hagoromo, but since nobody knew the two of them had a baby, there was a huge uproar—or not.

"I was unconscious and in critical condition, and they couldn't get a read on the situation externally. They were also afraid that it would have too much of a negative impact on the public, so they kept it from reaching the news. Nowadays, it would be easy for that information to reach the Internet somehow, but back then, computers were not as common.

"Yes, that's how long ago it happened. If I were to be more specific, it would reveal my true age, so...

"And just like that, I was admitted to the hospital and placed on absolute bed rest—not just because I was stabbed, but because I was so skinny and tiny that they had no idea how I was still alive.

"Finally, some peace for me, who’d been peaceful nor quiet.

"From there, my life finally began. The life of a baby doll, who was far behind in the race—about twenty laps behind. And even though I wouldn't be able to catch up no matter how I struggled, my life still began.

"Days of nutritional intake and rehabilitation.

"It wasn't easy, but it was a lot more luxurious than being stuck in a cage and not being able to move. I wondered if it was okay to feel like I was slacking off so much every day.

"I'm truly grateful to everyone at the hospital that took care of me... Seriously, I even wanted to stay at the hospital permanently.

"It was probably the first time I'd ever met anyone besides Daddy and Mommy, but I wasn't a shy baby. And frankly, I wasn't in a position where I could care about the other person's personality or appearance.

"But, you see.

"Saying that I felt like I was slacking off was about ninety percent bluffing, but the reason I was able to press forward without getting discouraged was because I felt, 'I had to leave the hospital as soon as possible'—why, you ask?

"Well, that's because even though Daddy, who had failed to kill me, was killed—Mommy, who was the one to kill him, was still alive.

"So I had to escape.

"I had to run away from the runaway.

"I thought that Mommy would lock me up in a cage again... Or maybe she'd scold me for going against her love and growing up in a medical facility.

"It may sound strange, but I was more afraid of being scolded than being killed. After all, my mental age was that of a 'twenty-year-old baby'.

"If I thought about it calmly, I would have realized that there was no way Mommy, wanted for the murder of her husband, would come to me just because she knew I was alive. But it's hard to think calmly, isn't it.

"But maybe I was in more danger than I thought.

"Maybe the reason they never publicized Mommy's murder of Daddy and my survival was for my protection.

"A privacy policy that guarded you from your guardians was a theory a bit hard to accept... At any rate, I did my best to grow up in order to escape from Mommy.

"I kept thinking of places to escape to.

"At the very least, I had decided to leave Europe, but in the end I chose Japan because that's where Daddy and Mommy were from.

"It wasn't nostalgia.

"Having listened to their conversations, it seemed they'd either left their home countries because they couldn't stay there, or because they were sick of it. I figured that no matter where in the world Mommy escaped to, she wouldn't show up in Japan.

"...Although, if I were thinking calmly, I would realize it was shallow thinking.

"After all, because she'd run away from her home country in such a way, it was possible she'd make it her last resort.

"To be honest, I start to doubt myself. Maybe I really wanted to see Mommy again, and lay in wait in Japan, hoping that she'd come back to her home country?

"After failing to get killed by Daddy, did I want Mommy to kill me this time—or did I want to get revenge on her?

"Did I think that my life would truly be able to begin if that happened? Since I continued to write over my thoughts, I can't say for sure what my mental state was at the time.

"In the end, my true feelings remain a mystery, but I decided to go to Japan as if I'd been led there. After I was discovered, I had naturally been granted Swiss citizenship, but I had no intention of coming back and decided to obtain a visa to become a permanent resident in Japan.

"For that reason, I got married.

"Marrying for the sake of residency might sound like a sham marriage, but that wasn't what I did. What I did was much worse.

"Instead of a pretense, it was forgery.

"I picked out a man who met the requirements and submitted a marriage certificate with his name on it to the municipal office—there were various requirements that needed to be met, but in short, he needed to live in an environment where 'he wouldn't notice if someone registered his marriage without permission'.

"It wasn't an easy requirement, and it took a lot of investigation and research. In fact, I was almost caught several times and was forced to withdraw from my plans. But in the end, I was able to manage a man with the last name 'Iesumi' and successfully obtained the qualifications.

"Although it was a felony.

"Compared to that, falsifying my work history to sneak into a national university as a professor is almost cute.

"There's nothing you can't do if you're desperate, even if it's a crime.

"Of course, even my age was fraudulent. As stated above.

"It wasn't just making myself look younger for a career.

"Beyond that, all I did was lie. Since the lies began from my name, I had to lie in every aspect of my life. To live in this country, to live a normal life.

"After having lived in a cage, my second life had me enclosed in lies—I was living in a cage of lies.

"Honestly, I still don't feel like I'm alive.

"Sometimes I come to my senses and think, 'What in the world am I doing?' I wonder if this is what it feels like to be 'alive'.

"Or is this how it feels to be 'dying'?

"The meaning was uncertain. My life-death status was uncertain.

"At least I had been sincere when I was in the cage, interacting with Daddy, trying to get him to kill me.

"Those are my true colors. That's my true form.

"The true form of Associate Professor Iesumi, the professor you took classes from for half a year and then accepted a request from—but there was no true form in the first place.

"I was nothing but an illusion."

033

"I'm sure you've had the chance to look around the room, but no need to worry about that whole playing house. Although, I guess it's useless to say that now.

"But I'm sure you've figured it out by now. That was like a reenactment of my upbringing.

"Don't worry.

"I never once thought of 'that' as my real daughter, or even as a human being.

"I'm sure you're thinking of it as creepy, scary, or unsettling, but it was more or less the result of trial and error.

"Or a failure of trial and error...

"It was inevitable because of the paperwork, but I had to act like a married person, after all—I rented a family apartment and tried to simulate a typical Japanese family.

"At least, I tried... But the results weren't very good. All I ended up simulating was my past.

"I was just playing house, but it didn't go very well.

"I can even say that my parents did much better than I did. I didn't even last three years, let alone twenty.

"I created that 'daughter' with the intention of loving it properly, but in just two years, I couldn't love it at all.

"I stopped thinking of it as cute.

"As the size of the doll became less and less like a baby... I could no longer watch over its 'growth'. After a while, all I could think was, 'She used to be so cute'.

"Were Daddy and Mommy right?

"Were children cuter when they didn't grow up?

"And... Araragi-kun, did you look in the next room properly? Did you find 'my estranged husband'?

"It's no good if you overlooked it. In the future, you have to do more than what you are told.

"I'll confess that that was also, of course, my handiwork. As well as the recreation of the murder scene. Although the setting was not as elaborate as my daughter's room. I have to say, I'm not too happy with the way it turned out.

"On top of my 'daughter', I couldn't bring myself to love my 'husband'... Well, of course. Daddy almost killed me, and Mommy killing Daddy was basically my fault, so perhaps, towards the living thing called a 'father', I had... What was it called again? Something-or-other.

"Right, that. Trauma. PTSD.

"Well, in my case, it wasn't psychological trauma, but the usual, physical, trauma.

"With that in mind, perhaps what I was doing was not playing house or recreating the crime scene, but something like sandplay therapy?

"Though I wish I hadn't done it.

"I ended up starting to hate going home—that said, Araragi-kun, I didn't send you to my place because I wanted you to clean up my broken home.

"A teacher that forces a student to clean their house would get in big trouble.

"That wasn't it. I was trying to get you to report it. I wanted you to be an eyewitness. In other words, it was evidence.

"The kind of information only the real culprit could know.

"Combined with this letter, it should be enough evidence... I'm sorry for being so mean in the beginning. Even though I provoked you so much, the truth is that I don't think you won't be able to decipher this letter, Araragi-kun.

"There are plenty of good translation apps out there.

"I just wanted to buy some time. Until I could get away to a safe place—after that, I wouldn't mind having you publicize the letter.

"I'm not running away because I was caught abusing my daughter, and I'm not running away because I was caught abusing a handmade doll. It's not something so dramatic.

"Shamefully, it seemed that it would end up being found out—the series of frauds I committed, starting with the false marriage. While doing my usual self-check as a routine part of my lifestyle, I found some mistakes I couldn't recover from. Laws and management systems had changed before my very eyes.

"The trend of allowing foreign workers to live in Japan permanently is something that I truly appreciate, but for me, it's a few decades too late... Rather, it's that change in the wind that led to my crimes being exposed.

"I won't complain, though. It's a good thing, after all.

"I thought I had successfully exploited a loophole in the rules, but in the end, committing wrongdoings was bad. If I were to be found out, I'd get arrested. That's why I ran away.

"I hate to say this because it sounds like a joke, but I don't want to be confined in a cage anymore.

"I don't want to be deported back to my birthplace, where Mommy is probably still hiding, and most of all, I don't want to go back to being me.

"I don't want to give up the persona of Iesumi Hagoromo that I raised... Though I'm sure I made a mistake in raising that persona at some point.

"I'm attached to this name, like it's my own child.

"And so, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

"The child is father to the man.

"Like Mommy fled after the crime she committed, I will also flee—and, Araragi-kun, I want you to deliver this letter to the police and tell them about my apartment.

"I know I said I'd give you the answer at the end, but I think you've figured it out by now. The reason I requested this of you.

"It was true that Oikura-san told me you were the greatest professional of child abuse among the students of Manase University, but that wasn't the deciding factor.

"It's because you're the son of the Araragi couple, the prefectural police's greatest human rights caseworkers—I'm sure you hate being told that, but you really should be proud of your fine parents.

"She never said so explicitly, but Oikura-san once got in contact with you for that very reason, didn't she? Through you, she wanted to skip all the complicated procedures and appeal to the top brass of the police.

"I thought I'd try to copy her.

"That's it! Was what I thought.

"I didn't have the guts to turn myself in, so I figured I'd ask Araragi-kun, who had the strongest connections, to help me. I wanted you to assist me, a liar, into becoming an honest person.

"For once, I wanted to walk down the path of sincerity—and I may have wanted to avoid Switzerland's image being tarnished as a result of my crimes being exposed. I wanted to make sure this was disclosed not as an international issue, but as a family matter.

"I may be a criminal, but I'm not a bad person.

"I'm just a bit pathetic.

"It's become a rather long letter, but now that I've foisted these fuzzy feelings like the stuffing of a doll onto you, I feel better now. I guess I should have done that from the beginning.

"I'll leave the rest to you.

"I'll run away where no one can reach me—because I'm Hagoromo, a robe of feathers. I may not be a heavenly maiden myself, but I'm sure I can fly. Like a piece of cloth, fluttering in the wind.

"Aah, it feels like I'm going to heaven."

034

"It feels like I'm going to heaven—since I tied things up with such an unnecessary statement, is that how you found me here?"

If so, I was way too negligent, and that's really pitiful of me—said Associate Professor Iesumi quite languidly, after we met for the first time in about a week.

I shook my head "no".

"To be honest, I haven't even read the letter properly yet."

"Then please read it. It's the letter left behind by a missing person, right? Even so, I didn't think it would be deciphered so quickly."

A testament.

That was not what Associate Professor Iesumi called it.

"Did you use an app?"

"No... Well, something like that."

Well, I wasn't going to tell her... The day of her disappearance, the letter she had left in her office had been discovered by me along with Meniko, who had accompanied me.

Not just four languages—she could probably speak over forty languages. Even I was surprised to find a college student who could speak Latin.

Even if it was a cryptogram mixed with Swiss German, Swiss French, Swiss Italian, and Romansh, it was nothing but a mental exercise for her... Well, she didn't have a lot of time on her hands because of club activities and stuff, so she thought it took quite some time, but it was still a lot speedier than me tackling it myself.

The translation may have ended up a bit light-hearted thanks to her, but that's something I could overlook...

"Didn't you think I'd hand the letter straight to the police, or maybe even the university?"

"I can tell just by your quiz results that you don't have the personality for something like that. Araragi-kun, you always try to fill in the answers to questions that you have no clue about, right? You don't like to turn in an answer sheet that's been left blank. You might rely on friends or apps, but I never once thought you'd relinquish a letter addressed to you without knowing what it said."

"...If you can profile me like that just from my quiz results, you really are a good teacher."

"Although I'm a fake. Can you answer my question? If you didn't read my letter, Araragi-kun, then how did you find me here? In other words, the place I disappeared to."

A little bear doll with an eyeball attached to it guided me here—but of course, I couldn't say something like that. Instead, I said this.

"Associate Professor Iesumi, don't you have a habit of throwing things you don't need onto the roof?"

"Eh?"

Associate Professor Iesumi looked at me with an expression of bewilderment—but, in fact, this was the university building's rooftop.

As soon as Ononoki-chan's familiar collided with the school building, it began to climb up the wall just like that... Free climbing. At first, I'd thought it pitiful that its creator had not bestowed upon it the wisdom to circumvent obstacles, but I soon realized—the one who lacked wisdom was actually me.

I was the most pitiful one.

I should've noticed earlier that Associate Professor Iesumi's office was located in said school building—and that the office was on the top floor, just like Room 333 of the apartment building.

A university professor who abruptly disappeared.

The office was empty, and nobody had seen her leaving the school building. She hadn't gone home, and she'd left her car behind—but maybe no one had searched the roof of the school building, which was naturally off-limits, right?

It wasn't so much as a blind spot as it was the first place you'd cross off the list, saying, "That can't be it"... The idea that she was holed up in her apartment was still more plausible. At least at home, she would have had a good living environment and would be able to order everything she needed online—whereas on the school building, there was no electricity or even running water.

She would have zero lifelines.

It was unsuitable as a hiding place or a place to flee to... But if she wasn't thinking about living or surviving, then it was a different story.

If she was just trying to escape.

If she was just trying to escape from this world—then the rooftop was the best place to do so.

"Did you think I'd jump to my death? I want to ascend to heaven. I don't want to fall to the ground."

Associate Professor Iesumi looked emaciated and gaunt—she was leaning against the fence, and didn't even look at me until I called out to her.

To be honest, I thought I hadn't made it in time and she'd become a Buddhist mummy... But she was still alive.

Though it was dim, her consciousness was still there.

"I'm good at living without drinking or eating. To the extent that that's the only thing I'm good at."

With the fence behind her back, that fence looked like it was part of a cage... It was as if she was still trapped. Trapped in the cage that her parents put her in.

But indeed, in this situation, there was no need to be afraid of her jumping off... I guess Ononoki-chan, who'd been on stand-by under the school building, wouldn't have her time to shine.

Incidentally, to prepare for any falling objects, Ononoki-chan had collected the eyeball from the little bear doll... This was because she wouldn't be able to catch anything without her sense of perspective. But it also meant that the little bear's life was much too short.

It would be a bit too arrogant to mourn its life, but even more so than its navigation to the rooftop, the fact that it was discovered on the rooftop of the apartment was more helpful in guiding me to this very location. So I couldn't help but be curious about its origin.

I'd acted like I hadn't read the letter properly, but the truth was that I had read it properly... There had been a point where she'd mentioned teddy bears, but she hadn't talked about this key chain itself.

From her reaction, it made me doubt whether or not it was something Associate Professor Iesumi even threw away... But, before that.

"In that case, would you like some water? Although it's carbonated."

"Hm?"

Associate Professor Iesumi strained to look.

She may have realized that the carbonated water had come from the trunk of her car, but she didn't say anything about it.

"I'll pass. If I drink water when I'm this hungry, I'll get refeeding syndrome."

That was her response—water shouldn't cause refeeding syndrome, but it was too heavy of a statement coming from someone who had experienced having water as her sole source of nutrition. But had I really just barely made it?

In fact, a considerable number of days had passed... As I recalled—the maximum length of time a person could go without eating or drinking was, yes, about three days.

Not to mention, it was the middle of summer, underneath the blazing sun.

There was no way I'd made it in time.

"No, no, you've done very well. Good for you. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of you. You've managed to capture a major criminal alive."

"...We can think about what to do later, but for now, why don't we get out of here? It's dangerous."

"Dangerous? Why?"

Because there might be a blanket coming to get revenge on you—or so I thought about responding, but I decided not to.

Since I managed to find Associate Professor Iesumi while she was still alive, it definitely hadn't been pointless, but after reading that deciphered letter, I realized it was a needless worry.

Surely, the Iie-chan doll had done nothing but escape—just as the mother had done from her mother.

That's right. Speaking of the letter...

"Sorry. From what I read of the letter, there's something I didn't quite understand... So was it you that stabbed the Iie-chan doll with the fruit knife, Associate Professor Iesumi?"

"Eh...? Stabbed what?"

For the second time, Associate Professor Iesumi looked bewildered... It wasn't that the term "Iie-chan doll" didn't ring a bell—it was as if she really didn't know what I was talking about.

I'd been thinking about adding onto that by asking who stabbed the father doll... But I guess I'll stop here.

In the letter, Associate Professor Iesumi confessed that she'd been the one to make the dolls, but she never wrote that she was the one to stab them.

The bear doll on the roof. The clothes that attacked.

The reason why there was no child seat installed in her car was because the existence of Iie-chan was false in the first place, and Associate Professor Iesumi's handiwork was limited only to her house... Though this major criminal had laid herself bare with this confession, there were still many mysteries left to be solved.

Not to mention, how much of the letter was actually true...? I didn't think that Associate Professor Iesumi was much of a liar, but there were quite a few things in there that didn't seem like they could be true.

But it wasn't my job to solve those mysteries.

All I could do was to fill in the answer sheet without leaving any blanks.

"Did I go wrong when I sought help from you, Araragi-kun?"

Associate Professor Iesumi, who was unable to stand up, spoke to me as I offered her a hand, but it sounded like she was talking mostly to herself.

Yeah, you could say that.

She'd mentioned in her letter that it wasn't her intention to ask me to clean things up for her, but as it turned out, instead of tidying up, I'd just about destroyed Associate Professor Iesumi's apartment and car as much as I could... If she had only listened a little more carefully to the rumors from my dear childhood friend, she would have realized that I was a completely undependable and lazy son.

So, even though in my mind I agreed with her wholeheartedly, I changed my mind, as if that wasn't it at all.

"No. You went wrong when you tried to die,"

I answered.

It was a compensatory answer that was unlikely to receive any extra credit.

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes. 

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile. 

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

[wovenstarlight]

YWBK update: chapter 25 + liner notes

yesterday will be kinder has updated! you can read chapter 25 here, or start from the beginning here

okay, on to notes and commentary! first time i’m doing these, let’s hope this works out. commentary under the cut to save people’s dashes

Hamin laughs. “Given how bad you are at not being suspicious, that’s understandable.” “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.” Hamin screws up his whole face in a squint. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little bad.”

this part was really funny to me when i wrote it because i was like “hmm reasons for DHM to understand why HHJ wouldn’t work in the guild” and then i was like Wait. Their Whole First Meeting, Dude. DHM was lowkey convinced for the longest time that HHJ was like, on the run from the KR version of the mafia, and got plastic surgery to look like his little brothers, and is possibly in some sort of witness protection program??? or something??? how else does he not have cops on his ass this man is so suspicious all the time

“I don’t think… They said the dungeons were, like, different worlds? Did they find people there?”

mafia theory second place. dungeon theory first place

“Like, humans? Um. No, no humans.” “So then you can’t be from there. Okay.”

dungeon theory shot down. mafia theory back in the running

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “I’m— I’m gonna go get us some water, okay? Why don’t you… take a minute.” “Okay.” “The bathroom is over there, if you need it.” “Okay. Thank you.”

after four years working alongside a guy you start to notice when he’s feeling a little out of it and needs a bit of a break... but as JHW mentions later you also learn to be a little subtle about giving him one

jung heewon What’s with your typing? It reads like Jihye’s [HYJ]’s fine. Very energetic Too energetic? He’s going to burn out. How do I make him calm down

Epic Burnout Man makes a reappearance! when translating sclass one of the things that makes me want to shake HYJ most is his habit of constantly adding things to his to-do list while he already has 1 billion things on his plate. and all the time he’s whining about “UGH there’s SO MUCH WORK to do” No One Asked You To Do It

Anyway. the point is. HYJ isn’t about to be beat by HHJ at Developing Issues 😔

jung heewon I haven’t spoken to him directly about this because if he’s anything like you he’ll take it as an insult You wtf whts tht supposed 2 mean quit typing jung heewon Better not say shit, mr “No, I can’t take days off and cater to my interests or go out with friends or on a date, I’m too busy taking care of the kids and making sure their needs are met, no I don’t care that there are thousands of people out there balancing personal enjoyment and romance and work AND kids at the same time, are you suggesting I be a BAD GUARDIAN to MY KIDS?”

see above re: not being too direct with pointing out when HHJ’s having Issues because he doesn’t react well

You wht but our eyes r fine jung heewon Even if having glasses doesn’t run in the family, you should still get him checked, just in case

top 10 funny time travel moments: referring to you and your past self as “us” (our = my eyes are fine), but other people think you mean “our family” (our eyes are fine = no family history of long/shortsightedness)

Also. Sooyoung-ie says hi [Attachment: 20XX1213_144516.jpg] 

ok no lie this was one of the parts that pissed me off the most, even though it’s Literally One Line, because. i love chat exchanges. i really do. when done right they’re a lot of fun to read. But Do You Know How Long It Took Me To Figure Out A Calendar For The Events In This Fic. now everything’s TIMED i have to count HOW MANY DAYS IT’S BEEN since XY event so i can CORRECTLY NUMBER the FILE ATTACHMENTS!!! this sucks!!! it took me fucking forever to pin down a timeline just so i could write this chapter plus the few before and after it!!!!

anyway i gave up when i reached year. i just put 20XX. fuck it. we are running on fairy tail time now. (actually i think that’s XXnumber number? XX76? or was it X796. something like that. Who cares i stopped watching fairy tail forever ago)

Fuck it! Hamin will understand!! “If you Awaken you should come work with me,” Han Hyunjae says all in a rush. 

“HAMIN WILL UNDERSTAND” => he literally was cool with me giving zero context for half a dozen absolute balls to the wall nonsense bullshit things i’ve done before. he’ll be fine with this too. dog_in_burning_house_this_is_fine.png

“You already know about the guilds, those are going to be for dungeon Hunters, but I was thinking of forming something like an independent group of contractors. Awakened people with skills that aren’t useful for combat, but that might… that will be generally useful. It’d be you and me, and maybe one other guy I met recently. Probably more in the future.”

given that HHJ has no idea currently that peace exists (i’m so sorry baby i’ll find a way to shoehorn you in soon i miss you so much) he’s got no intentions to start a kiseungsu business yet! he mostly wants to live quietly while just acting as a manager for other Awakening-related services, like YMW’s forge and DHM’s tracking service, along with the information exchange/lowkey spy ring that he’s planning on setting up with JHW and the bar. since HYH is fine associating with him in this timeline, HHJ’s thinking he can get a foot in the door that way, then eventually spread out into dealings with most major guild leaders

RIP to this plan. you were well-made but you will not last long.

“Please, I can’t tell you how I know that, I really can’t, it’d put me and my brothers in danger if it got out. But—” “No need.” Hamin looks slightly alarmed, and Han Hyunjae feels himself settle at the obvious concern in his eyes.

MAFIA THEORY RAPIDLY RISING TO PROMINENCE??? THIS IS NOT HOW DO HAMIN WANTED HIS GUESS CONFIRMED

“I spoke to the Task Force Head and she said that there’s been discussion about hosting a meeting for the nearby high-rankers, where they’ll announce the guild proposal and see who else is interested in trying it out.”

“they’ll announce” i’m sorry king 💔 you deserved a nap

(OH ALSO FUN FACT choi eunyoung is a canon character, not an OC of mine! she appears in uhhh i think late 140s? 150s? something like that)

“I think there’s… probably only one other S-rank who’s Awakened right now?”

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehhehe

Hamin beams. “No, they’re doing great! Spookie’s taken really well to the new housing situation, but I think Spots might miss the store…”

shoutout to @daemonic-dawn​ for letting me borrow a pet name, love u king. i had a much longer ramble about pet names here but i finished typing and realized it was all entirely off topic so i removed it for convenience

Hyunjae makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t— I mean.” He huffs, visibly taking a deep breath, and Yoojin frowns reflexively. [...] “Is everything alright?” Yoojin kind of wants to be annoyed at his tone on principle, but he forces his shoulders to relax, matching Hyunjae’s posture. Though he can’t stop himself from being a little short when he answers.

things the brothers have learned in four years living together: getting confrontational often leads to arguments that just fizzle out anyway, so it’s way fucking easier to consciously tone down their combativeness in advance when talking to each other about things they have problems with, instead of screaming their heads off and then having to calm yoohyun down afterwards to boot

“I guess. Whatever.” Yoojin slumps. “Can I…” “Hm?” Hyunjae blinks at Yoojin as he gestures to the spot on the bed beside him, then jolts. “Oh! Yeah, sure, c’mere.” He opens his arms, and Yoojin goes over and flumps on the bed, head in Hyunjae’s lap. Almost immediately, Hyunjae starts stroking fingers through his hair, and Yoojin relaxes into the touch, listening as Hyunjae continues speaking.

cuddles 🥺🥺🥺 sorry i don’t have any other commentary here just. cuddles. extremely and overwhelmingly comforting for a man who spent the better part of 8 years(?) with no major positive relationships, and a kid who spent 12 years of early life basically abandoned by his parents. you had best bet they gave up on not hugging each other 1 year into this whole mess

Yoojin hums in acknowledgement. It’s not like he’d ever let himself get hurt; he has too many responsibilities to his family and friends. If he wants to be good enough to keep up, he can’t afford to fuck up like that. But… hyung will worry if he keeps working so hard. He can slow down a little for him. 

Problems disorder man when will you stop. the way he sees “getting hurt” as an inconvenience and an obstacle to his duties rather than a danger to himself. the way he doesn’t really care if he himself gets hurt, but if it’ll worry his family, then it’s a no-no. it’s just. wow. i know i wrote this but i hate him

“Not really. I talk to Myeongwoo about it sometimes.” “Ah, right, Myeongwoo.”

haha gays

“Don’t be weird about him,” Yoojin warns[...]. “I won’t, promise.”

if the “i won’t” line had a dialogue tag it’d be “Han Hyunjae lied”

“Is Eunwoo still in his relationship?” “Mhm, happy as ever. Apparently they’re trying long-distance, now that Eunwoo’s gone off to university abroad.”

three guesses for who eunwoo’s dating and you won’t need the first two

Hyunjae raises his hands like he’s going to deny the accusations levelled against him, so Yoojin seizes him by the collar and shakes him until he cries for mercy

oh my o/rv ass struggled so bad with not writing “shakes him like a man betrayed” here. it killed me not to. but in the end i prevailed (against, uh, myself. don’t think about it too hard.)

“Jeez, okay, he’s an F-rank!” “Eh?! Then why—” “He’s also got an SS-rank potential skill,” Hyunjae admits[...].

play-by-play of this scene because god if i draw any scene in this fic it would be this one just for the sheer hysterical nature of HYJ’s reaction:

YOOJIN: I HATE YOU WHAT THE FUCK WHY. TELL ME HIS RANK

HYUNJAE: HE’S AN F

YOOJIN: WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?

HYUNJAE: he’s also got an SS-rank skill,

YOOJIN:

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Velveteen Letters

Notes: Merry Holidays <3 This one-shot is different than what I’ve been planning, because work and life are mixing up a fine cocktail of “wtf”, so here’s my piece during these times. I apologize to those who were expecting a different flavor to the story, and it’s rushed, but I hope that you like it, nonetheless <3

Gender Neutral Reader, Rated T, so everybody can enjoy some fluff

Setting: Victorian? Kinda? Reader’s country is unknown, and everything is fictional for the purposes of the plot.

   You met him when you were eight, and him being ten. It was a custom meeting between two noble families, yours entertaining your guests from far off seas within your garden.

The two of you were hiding behind each of your respectful mothers, him bashfully staring at you, while you took shy glances at him. The round, pudgy boy with amber-colored irises and soft blond hair, was to be your future husband. Although looking rather uncomfortable, he was wearing your country’s clothing for this certain meeting; a royal blue outfit in which that had contrasted his more warm features.

You, like the most nobles in your country, had been told and molded to serve as the future holder of one’s each respected estate. Of course, being a powerful noble family house, your father had sought out a marriage candidate for you, in which that was not the crown heir. The reason was simple, to put it out there that your family’s estate was not power-hungry for the crown, and that you being the only heir, were spoken for, already.  

You, being an eight year old child, had limited knowledge of the world, and only knew that you were to be married, and to start studying.

“Tai-chan, go say ‘hello’.” His mother, a woman wearing odd, yet expensive-looking clothing that you’ve never seen before, nudged her son. Her accent was different, as well, but you liked it.

“Hello.” The boy said, although a bit shy, his voice had a firmness to it.

“Hello.” You couldn’t help but answer back at your mother’s own nudge, your voice barely above a whisper.

 It wasn’t an awkward meeting, and your parents and his seemed to take in amusement at the two of your shy natures. Your mother sighed, and his mother laughed.

“It can’t be helped, Your Grace. Perhaps they could write to each other?” His mother suggested, and yours hid her smile behind her fan.

“From overseas? Wouldn’t it take forever to receive such letters, Lady Toyomitsu?” She asked. The other woman with elegant, pinned up hair, smiled in response.

“A private letter, should be handled secretly. A trusted captain of one of my merchant’s ships, should be able to hand it to one of your trusted servants in each six months.”

“Oh, you’re a genius! It is a shame that they’ll get their letters in half of a year, but I think that it would be for the best. Keeps them pining and waiting.” Your mother laughed, and his joined in. You, being young, didn’t really understand or care about their conversations, but you were intrigued by the shy boy.

After the short meeting, your mother had bid her long-time friend farewell, and you bowed stiffly to an equally bowing, flustered guest, who was to be your future husband.

“In the future, you can’t be as shy as you are now.” Your mother said quietly, and you understood.

………………..

 It was a slow start, at first. The two of you, being children, sent letters full of inquisitive questions, such as why was the sky blue, both complaints about studying, and what was one’s each favorite color. You did feel a little bit braver, sending him flowers pressed into paper, explaining how to properly preserve them in books. You weren’t sure if his country had a system of flower codes, but yours sure did, and you had felt a little braver each time, sending him a secretive message that you weren’t sure that he’d understand.

It was the principle of the matter, for you searched high and low for the prettiest blooms in which were in not only in your garden, but also in your room in which you grew them in.

Of course, he’d told you that his country also had a system, called “Hanami”. Since each flower represented something different from each place, you unabashedly sent him a small booklet about flowers from your country. In return, you’ve gotten the same, from him, but in a neat scroll.

He’d grown on you, for the past nine years. Of course, the two of you only being able to send letters and gifts each six months, you were always eager for the red and brown merchant’s ship that breached the docks every early morning.

Although only seeing him, once, you were fond of him, and didn’t mind seeing him in any shape or form, just as long as you’ve gotten to see him.  

 You were so excited, already dressed and ready to meet your loyal handmaid, who always would giggle or fawn over your eager expression as she handed you in whichever he would gift you. Slipping on your coat, you couldn’t help but rush outside into the December morning, ignoring the crisp air burning at your lungs as you searched for the familiarity of your servant who was the first to greet the ship, and then return to you.

 Time seemed to drawl as you couldn’t help but feel as if something was a slightly bit off, but you didn’t pay it no mind.

You sighed in relief as you spotted your servant trudging up to you, but your smile fell as you realized that although holding a letter, her face looked grim. A sinking feeling had begun nestling in the bottom pit of your stomach as your feet moved on their own before you could process in what was happening.

“Is he-?” You let the sentence hang, but she only handed you the envelope.

“My liege, a merchant’s ship did not greet me, this morning.” She was shaking, slightly, and you couldn’t help but strip off your coat, and place it onto her shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it, Dear. I’m a fool to let you travel in the snow, in the first place. Let’s get you some hot tea.” You admitted, ignoring the fear and worry bite into you as she nodded, the two of you returning towards the estate.

Getting comfortable, she still shook, but not from the cold as you tried your best to poke at the fire, letting the flames lick eagerly at the dried wood.

“Now, what happened?” You asked, curiosity biting into you.

“Jolly Rodger. That’s what greeted me, this morning, Your Grace.” She let it slip out as she handed you the letter. You froze, letting your heart sink as you hastily grabbed it. The front didn’t have his family’s wax seal, but you recognized his handwriting, addressing your name on the front.

“They weren’t malevolent, yet they were still pirates, jeering that they’ve got a letter for you. I left as soon as I received it, Your Grace.” She murmured, eyeing your stiff form with an expression of shock.  

You grabbed your letter opener, slicing the envelope open, as you reached inside with shaking hands. A thousand thoughts ran through your head as you unfolded it. Your heart lurched as you couldn’t help but began to read the short sentence in his handwriting.  

  “I’ll come for you, I promise to explain everything. For now, I am safe, so please don’t worry about me. Please stay safe, as well. I wanted to tell you this in person, and not in a letter, but fate is not in my favor, right now. You are very dear to my heart.”

You couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. It was exactly something that he’d say, and it was in his usual style, but you still couldn’t believe it.

“My Liege?” Your servant asked timidly, her own curiosity and worry was evident.

“He tells me that he’s fine, and that he’ll come for me, but…is he fine?” You murmured, and she craned her head.

“It is a very short letter. Come, Dear, we can tell your father and mother of what we know, so far.” She took your hand, and through your small shock, you felt yourself rushing towards your father’s studies.

….………….

 He liked them. He liked them a lot. Ever since they were children, their shy demeanor mimicked his, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of feeling to protect. Although the letters arrived a little later than he liked, he found it as an excuse to write more, sending at the very least two pages full of recent events, as well as flowers and gifts.

Of course, his intended spouse was responsive as ever, teaching him the etiquette basics of his future home country, as well as they tried their best in making him feel welcomed and loved in their own special way. He really did love them, even if it was through letters and gifts, he knew that they were the one that he wanted to settle down with.

Although he didn’t like secrets, his mother had insisted to wait to tell them that he was Captain of the Guard, not wanting to worry his future spouse. So, gathering a small group of his men and a good ship, he wanted to surprise them for the holidays in which they celebrated this winter. Of course, it wasn’t that easy.  

 His sword clashed against another, whilst his anointed men guarded the rear of the boat, keeping the angry ruffians at bay. He didn’t want to rely on pirates, of all people to deliver his message, but they were neutral-sided, and Tamaki had knew them, once. Of course, delivering a few messages to the dock had costed him a pretty penny, but they had miraculously rowed up after he and his men had been under siege from another band of blood-thirsty pirates.

Seeing an opportunity to send a letter to his loved one, and to his neighboring country to ask for help, he did just that.

Searing pain shot through his side as he tried to dodge the pirate captain’s blade. He gritted his teeth as he held his bleeding side, as he made a sharp-aimed jab, mimicking his bloodied wound.

“Captain’s bleeding!” His men called, but he paid no heed as his thoughts raced suddenly, having you in his mind had made him more resilient, refusing to suffer from blood loss, before he had seen you.

He had to see you, he couldn’t help but think as once again, his sword clashed against his opponent’s.

……………..

 Worried would be an understatement. Your father had reassured you that he would be fine, and it was just a little trouble that he ran into, his reasoning of sending out a small fleet of ships. Trouble? You wondered. He was suppose to be safe in his estate, there was no reason why he should be in danger, shouldn’t he?  

Your friends and family soothed your worries, telling you that the best that you could do, was to take care of yourself. That was easier said than done. You felt drowsy, staring at the blank parchment of paper, feeling the need to write something else that wasn’t linked to your book of Odysseys.

It has been a week.

You were tired and withdrawn, mind full of worrisome possibilities, in which you had forgotten minor things. You were lucky that you were good friends with your estate’s staff, for they were endearing and had made sure to remind you to eat brunch, relax for tea time, and head to bed a little early for a full night’s rest. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to do without them, and while the holiday was nearing, you busied your mind into convincing your father into giving them a pay raise, as well as the day off so that you could be alone with your thoughts.

You hadn’t met him in person for so long, but the man who occupied your thoughts, had grown very dear to you, and you waited anxiously.

……………………

 You were just minding your business, staring at the softly falling flakes of the year’s first snow. It was one of the winter holidays in your country, a very important one. Your father had held a ball, and you liked the dark blue outfit with white lace dripping smoothly from the cuffs of the sleeves, giving the outfit a feel of both elegance and class.

Although you always attended evening parties, you refused to dance with persons who weren’t your parents, or close relatives, lest giving an unwanted suitor the wrong impression that you were available.    On another side, you didn’t want false rumors fluttering through the estate, giving an ill impression to your soon-to-be spouse, whenever he would reach to you.

Although a little chilly, you rather be outside of the estate, mind wondering on how each small flake was suppose to be different, yet falling in the aged old familiar sync.

“My Liege!” Your servant’s voice cut through your mindset. Swerving your body around in surprise to face her, she panted and huffed, face beet red, as if running to look for you.

“Come get dressed! I received news!” She bleated, picking up her lower skirts to avoid getting the fabrics wet from the snow.

“What about the party?” You half-mindfully asked through the turning gears within your head. It didn’t  take long to know what she was talking about, however, in your excitement, you knew that you shouldn’t ignore your duties.

“It can wait, Your Grace, you must hurry! They fetched him in this morning, into Your Grace’s usual doctor, is what I overheard from some gossiping birdies. Not sure why or what he’s been doing here, but I think that you must get dressed, for luck might not be on our side!” She huffed out the sentence, dragging your curious yet racing mind along. You didn’t really care on how he had gotten here, you were more than worried, right now as you followed your maid through the servant’s quarters, avoiding the main attraction in which was the ball.

“I’m sure that he’s fine, My Liege, they say that it’s a bad ship that they hauled him off from, but he was still breathing.” She tried to say gently, if not to catch the fleeting breaths back into her lungs. Through the servant’s quarters, you tugged on a spare coat that you knew was your father’s for his evening rides, in which the stables were linked to.

“Tell my father that I’ll be late, please? If he asks, just tell him the truth of my whereabouts.” You told her, letting her nod your affirmation, as you then trotted through the corridor, and out into the snow towards the stable, feeling your heart pounding within your ears as you made your way to an already saddled horse.

………..

  The cold, small rush of wind beat at you, as your horse cantered you hurriedly into town, passing by carriages, carts, and other riders who were daring to be in the snow. You half-yelled out of politeness for your hurries, tipping your hat more out of habit, than respect as your heart and mind won it’s own little race against your mount.

Quick as a flash of lightening, you found your heavy breathing form tying the reigns onto a post, not thinking twice before basically rudely entering the doctor’s office.

He jumped, startled at the footsteps of a visitor, but then his shoulders relaxed as he then realized that it was you.

“Where is he?” You panted out before the elderly man could speak. He sighed softly, pushing up his glasses, as he was one of the few who knew about the arrangement.

“Impatient as ever, my Liege? I understand that you are worried, although, I cannot understand how fast gossiping birds fly.” He mumbled, but a small smile graced his features.

“He’s coherent, although I rather there be a waiting period before a patient is fully healed, I cannot deny an anxious lover. In the back room, last one on the right.” He finished, waving his hand at the door, huffing out a laugh of disbelief as he then turned back to his papers.

You couldn’t waste any more time. You’ve been waiting for a while, but now the opportunity was here, itching to be taken, and you couldn’t have felt more hungrier for it.

You entered the room in which was accommodated by the wounded, your heartbeat escalating as thoughts raced, throwing out ridiculous scenarios such as him not wanting to see you. You had to push that down, knowing that it was your fear being irrational just to take over. Each bed had a curtain shielding the patient from curious eyes, giving them privacy from gruesome neighbors. It being midday, you strolled past curious onlookers as you slowed your steps to the last curtain on the right.

Behind it was your future husband, you thought, swallowing thickly as anxiety pooled at you. Of course he wanted to see you, he wouldn’t oddly be here, wouldn’t he? You rationalized with yourself, surprised by the silly thoughts and fears that had suddenly gripped you. Sending a letter indicating your arrival should have been your first priority, not leaving your father’s held event to rush off to a possibly sleeping man. Biting your lower lip, you gathered your courage as you brought your arm up, letting your clenched hand knock softly, but firmly onto the soft sheets.

“Hm?”  

You couldn’t help stifle down your curiosity and anxiety, anymore. Biting the bullet, you gripped the curtains, and yanked them aside, causing a gasp of surprise from behind them.

Silence flooded into the room as the world had stilled, your eyes locked onto his. He was in his country’s military dark blue uniform, still, as he had small bandages here and there, giving him a more gruff look. He was still round, yet taller and had a bit of muscle to the arms. His hair was still thick, soft and yellow, while amber irises stared at you. You couldn’t help but find him perfect, you thought.  

A twinkle of familiarity sparked within his eyes as they widened with sheer surprise.

“You idiot.” Was pulled out from your mouth as a sudden burst of emotional warmth speared through you suddenly. He leapt up, surprising you into a tight, squeezing hug.

“Oh, My Darlin~!” He cooed in a unique honeyed voice. You could help but feel all of the pent up stress and anxiety rush out of you like escaped air, as your shoulder’s relaxed, and your jaw loosened from the tension. Not wasting an opportunity, your own arms reached around him to give a hug of your own.

“I have so many questions.” You murmured into his chest, and you felt his body reverberate as he chuckled a bit nervously.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to catch up, Dear. Stay with me?” He asked, and you nodded your head with little hesitation.

…….

 You knew that your father knew where you were, but you couldn’t care any less. The bed was a little bit smaller than your liking, but the two of you had found a way for you to sit next to him, seeping into his warmth as he talked. You felt yourself pressed up against his side, face warm as you felt him rumble with his explanations, apologies, and genuine words of endearment, shyly glancing at your equally flushed face as you bit your bottom lip, heart fluttering inside your chest as if it were a wild thrush.

 His injuries weren’t severe, and luckily, he and his crew had beaten down the pirates with hardly any causalities, and the ship, although scratched up, still sailed towards your homeland as planned. He told you everything, how long it would take him to write, how eager he was to receive your own letters, keeping each and every one in a decorative cedar chest.

You, in turn, told him about your own feelings, duties, and in general, while the two of you had talked, you’ve noticed that the sunlight seeping through the window, had dimmed greatly. Your heart had sunken, a little, but he kissed your cheek in reassurance.

“I was actually not just gonna visit ya, I was gonna ask yer father for yer hand in marriage, properly.” He rubbed the back of his head, sheepishly, and then gasped in surprise when you had hugged him.

“Contract or not, my personal answer will be a “yes”.” You buried your face into his side, but he hummed, gently stroking the back of your shoulders.

The two of you had a lifetime to figure it out together, after all.

……………………….

Aaaah tried, I hope you like it, and Warm, Best Wishes <3