#it took me so long to realize it said “vampire reading a novel” and not “reading a vampire novel” a second time sjdfkjsdfklfd

[eeulysian]

ha. ha. ha. since ur requests are open.. I'll be requesting a fic for my beloved, chelsea from path to nowhere. writer!reader who makes novels and chelsea is interested in reader's works hehejwheueh.. he.. heh.. ok neways ^_^ chelsea then gives reader an opportunity to make their works more popular!!!.. if tjat makes sense idk but!!! in exchange, chelsea gets to have reader for herself! then reader is tempted but they'll make money from it so.. yah. in other words, this is kind of like idk prostitution— but i promise if u word it in a different way, it's ok... this happened to me in a dream btw

(heh.. nsfw.. if that's ok.. idk im kinda down bad for chelsea since shes my gf)

⟡ . IRRATIONAL COMPENSATION

summary: all in the request above!

cw: afab!reader, developing smut, oral and fingering (f!receiving), dom/sub dynamics, chelsea is a flirt, did i make it too long... chelsea is a squirter change my mind

a/n: i wouldn't call it prostitution? maybe compensation is a better word!! and i'm sorry if this isn't good enough, its my first time making smut 😞 and i think i went overboard and made it too long... soz i was too into it 💔💔

WRITING used to be a hobby for you, you used to be that wattpad kid that would make those alpha vampire boyfriend and the sheltered white girl kind of fics. but as you grew older, you began to take your hobby seriously, and it became a dream for you to become a novelist. so of course, you were able to get yourself into a publishing house, making yourself an official author. the only problem is, the publishing house is really unknown, so none of your works were able to make it big. you only had about like what — 50 or so fans/readers? yeah, even though you were grateful that they read your works, a part of you still wishes for the numbers to magically increase by the coming days.

you thought there was no hope for you, your works and your dreams, so you decide to drown yourself in alcohol, hoping to forget all your worries. so you went to a bar to get yourself a drink. then a second. then a third. then a fourth. then a fifth.

when is this going to end?

oh you were soooo depressed, no matter how many shots you took, your worries couldn't get out of your head. "i'm about to lose it," you think. not until a sultry voice called out to you from your right. "hey cutie, you seem to be stressed. what's the matter?"

you hastily turn to your right to find the source of the silky voice, and your (e/c) orbs meets with ones that are as red as wine. not to mention, her hair was pink. oh fuck. pink. pink hair??? you had a thing for pink haired girls. and this girl made you weak to the knees. it's probably because you're a little tipsy, but right there at that moment you wished you could kiss her oh so annoyingly, attractive red lips. this woman was downright beautiful and it's amazing how only her voice made you forget your worries.

she waves her hand infront of your face, trying to get your attention "hello? earth to... what's your name?" she chuckles, and at that moment you realized you've been too lost in your thoughts so you look like you've been staring at her for quite some time now... how embarrassing. "oh, m'sorry i think i'm just a little tipsy right now hahaaa... i'm y/n. andddddd you? beautiful lady?" what the fuck y/n why did you say that you're WAY too drunk to be flirting with gorgeous ladies right now you could trip and laugh it off like it's nothing in this state what is wrong —

your thoughts were cut off by her honey voice yet again once you hear her laugh ring in your ears. she laughs at your attempt to flirt even in such a state, but she replies nonetheless. "just call me chelsea. so tell me, what has made you so stressed, that you have to take about 5 or more shots of alcohol at once? are you a divorcee or a widow? work problems?", she asks you, curious to see if she's able to help you. what a kind beautiful lady. "the last one you just said", you managed to let out, and averted eye contact to not look at her. "i'm a failed novelist... ugh. i can't even get any of my works to be a hit. it's always just a 2-digit-amount of people reading them. i'm not saying i'm ungrateful, i just wish it was more popular." you sounded so exhausted, so worn out, and so stressed. chelsea felt bad, and she was trying to think of a way to console you.

then an idea came in. "how about this", you turn your head around to look at her again once she said that. "i'm quite rich, and i have a big social media platform as well. i could promote your works for you so your works can do numbers", your eyes lit up at that sentence, "but in exchange, i get you." then your eyes widened. confused on what she meant. "you get me in exchange...?" you were baffled. "yes, meaning i get to have a one night stand with you... or you can even just be mine straight away~" she smirks, looking at you dead in the eye. at that moment you noticed her eyes are filled with lust and desire.

oh that sentence, that smirk, the way those eyes look at you, you were sobered up. the bustling sound of chatting and laughing of other bar customers goes deaf in your ears, you're only focused on this pink haired woman and the loud beating of your heart. why is your heart beating so fast do you have arrhythmia? "so, what do you say?", she asks you again, and all the thoughts are running in your head. this might be a bad idea... but your co workers don't have to know, right? i mean, you're tempted. tempted to make your works a hit, and tempted to spend a night with this beautiful, enchanting woman.

at last, you decided to go with the latter, and accept her offer. "... okay. i'll accept that exchange." you hesitantly said, and all you see is a wolf-like smile infront of you. you can't deny that the way she looks at you is kinda... turning you on. "good girl." you flushed at that sentence. you look like the equivalent of a tomato right now. she called you a good girl? oh fuck you could even get on your knees for this woman.

"give me a copy of one of your best works, and i'll read it when i'm home. after that, i'll tell you if i like it and promote it for you. but you'll have to give me your number first so i can let you know how it goes," she winks, she is a woman of her word indeed. "if it turns out to be successful, then i can give you my address and you can come over... after all, our exchange can't be one sided, right? ♡" you were still blushing, but i mean... popular works? money? pretty girlfriend? you were more than happy to comply. you two exchanged numbers, and luckily you coincidentally brought your best work in your bag to read it when you get home, so you gave her your book, which was about a highschool slowburn romance, the characters are too happy so expect them to be doomed by the narrative because you're evil just like that lmao. you told her she didn't have to worry, as this is just a copy and you have all your original works at home.

she took the book, and you said "i'll be waiting for the results then, tell me if you like it and if you're able to promote it", you laugh sheepishly, kind of embarrassed how a beautiful woman is helping you and not you helping the beautiful woman instead. "of course, i'll read it in my free time and tell you how it goes~," she says in a sultry, flirtatious tone. you could only laugh nervously. "get home safely now," she leans in close to you to give you a peck on the cheek, and it left a faint red lipstick stain. you couldn't even talk at all, you were left shocked, baffled, flustered, shy, embarrassed, confused. girlfailure moment

✧༺♡༻✧

almost 2 weeks have passed, and you were procrastinating in your room because it was your day off. you were playing games, reading books and eating. at this moment you're watching a show of your choice on netflix on your laptop, but alas your peaceful moment was disturbed by a loud buzzing from your phone. "who the hell is calling me?", you said, clearly annoyed because whoever is calling you just ruined your netflix and chill time. probably your best friend or a co worker ready to bother you.

but the name you see on your phone is "chelsea", so you just had to pause your show because you just knew it was about your novel. you hesitantly answered the phone, and the first thing you hear is "hey cutie, i just finished reading your book", she says through the phone, and you swallow, scared of how she thinks of it. "... and i have to say, your writing is quite impressive, the way you organize the storyline and give your characters so much personality," you smile at the compliment, though she can't see it, so you say "really?", hoping she hears how happy you are.

"yes, so it's safe to say i can promote your name and your work on my social media. but even so if i ended up not liking it, my interest for you would have not gone away anyways." she says, followed with an attractive giggle that has your heart going crazy. but you're very ecstatic nonetheless, because you know your works are about to get popular after she promotes it. yes bitch get that bag

"thank you for helping me, i really appreciate it. i'm sorry i had to trouble you over my own work problems." you answer her, apologetic for dragging her into your personal matters. "don't worry about it baby, i'm happy to help. but please do remember..."

"that if you want to pay me back, then you'd have to pay back with you, and only you."

you remembered the exchange you had with her. and you become red, whether it's about the pet name, or the agreement you guys had. "oh, right... uhm, what do you want me to do then? come over?", you asked. "yes. that's exactly what i want. i'll text you my address. i'll be waiting, hot stuff~", and that's where you know you're going to have the time of your life. whew

✧༺♡༻✧

you finally arrived at her house. damn it was a nice house. 2 storey, clean, shiny and modern, and you can tell theres a pool in the backyard. you check your phone, it's 8:32 PM right now. you knocked on the door 3 times, no answer. you knocked again, another 3 times. then the door swings open, and you're met with those red wine eyes and luscious pink hair again. and you notice that she's wearing one of those... dress-type lingeries. you were sure you were at your last percentage of sanity because of it.

"hey, it's been a while." she gives you a silent giggle. "it certainly has been. well uhm, how have you been? did you post anything about my works?", you asked her, i mean you were eager to know if your work is gonna do numbers and hoping you'll wake up to your works getting sold out by tomorrow. "oh, straight to the point... is your work more important than me?", she answers, clearly sarcastic with the way she immediately laughs right after. you panic slightly, but before you could protest, she talks once again. "don't worry, my post about your book is already going viral, so expect all your works to get sold out tomorrow and your publishing house flourishing overall~"

once you heard that, you were glad you met this woman by a miracle. but oh, you shouldn't forget the deal you made with her. "thank you so much, really. i appreciate it. but so um, about the deal...", you say weakly, heart beginning to pound fast in your chest and you try to avert eye contact with her. but yet again, she always manages to catch your attention, and she pulls your face closer to hers, making you look into her eyes.

"mhm, and you remember what you have to pay with, right?~", she says with her red blood pupils looking right into your (e/c) ones, by now it's obvious how eager she is to devour you whole. you swallow, sweat falling down your neck, and you look flushed. "yes... i guess i shouldn't make our exchange to be one sided."

and with that, she pulls you inside her house, shutting the door and crashes her lips onto yours. she pulls you slowly to her kitchen while sloppily making out with you, and you feel like you're on fire. you want to please this woman, and make her feel so good. you start taking the lead for a bit and push her onto a counter, continuing to make out tongue to tongue with her. she wraps her hand around your shoulders and hair, moaning in between your kisses and grinding on your thigh... and that was when you can tell that she's quite... damp.

"mmhh hah~", she pulls away from the kiss to look at you with hazy eyes, "i want you to... go down on your knees, and eat me out." she manages to let out breathlessly, "i want you to please me, and be a good pet for me." you could only nod quietly. even if it means getting on your knees and barking like a dog just to marry this woman, you would do it anyways.

you slowly get down on your knees while she sits still on top of the counter, spreading her legs to give you easier access. you reach out for the hem of her pantie lingerie, slowly pulling it down. by the moment her pantie reaches her thigh, her pussy juices made a thin bridge with the inside of her pantie, which was an erotic sight for you and turned you on even more. that thin bridge was cut off the moment you pulled her pantie down completely and threw it onto the floor. gripping her thighs and spreading them a little wider, you lean it to give her aching clit a kiss. you earn a shocked gasp from the pink haired woman above you, shuddering the moment you made contact with her pussy.

you lick her slit, going down then up to her clit again and start flicking your tongue on it at a pace that's not too fast, but fast enough to make her throw her head back. she takes ahold of your hair and grips it slightly and whimpering your name, letting you know how good you're making her feel. you decide to push your tongue inside her tight velvety walls, and she almost puts you into a headlock with her milky thighs all because it was too sudden. you thrust your tongue into her in and out, constantly hitting her g spot. "ahmm...! ughmnggh... y-you're doing so good, hah! keep goinggghhngg..", she manages to blurt out weakly, mindlessly grinding her hips to meet your tongue, you can tell she was close from the way her moans started sounding more louder, the grip on your hair tightened and her walls started spasming a lot more than earlier. but you only ended up pulling your tongue out last minute and you were greeted with a disappointed whine. "why did you do that?", she looks at you, face so fucked out, but she's still a little angry even in a state like this.

you smirked at her, and went back down to kiss her clit and flick your tongue on it. she went back to moaning and whimpering, but what she didn't expect is you shoving a finger inside her and slowly thrusting it in and out, receiving a choked moan from her. you added another finger inside, and curled them. chelsea lets out a loud cry and her breathing starts getting more ragged and unstable, her thighs starting to shake uncontrollably. "ah! mmpleaseeee pleasepleasepleaseplease— fasterrrrhngmnhhh...", and the constant chanting of your name was all you could hear until she started squirting all over, onto your face and to the floor. at this point, the countertop was dripping wet with her juices, and it's slippery. one wrong move, she could accidentally fall down and injure herself. you wait for her to calm down from her high, getting up and holding her by the waist to stable her.

leaning into her neck and giving her kisses, relishing in the her rose scented perfume, mixed along with the smell of sweat and sex. she snakes her hand up to your neck, and kisses you, soft and chaste. pulling back, she could only say "i didn't know you were skilled like that... you really did good, cutie ♡", and you give her a promising smile, one that made her heart flutter and look at you with hearts in her eyes.

© 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸�� 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗲𝗲𝘂𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻. 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗹, 𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁.

another a/n: finally i'm done!! one of my longest fics yet... let me know if i made any mistakes or my writing was too long, sloppy or rushed. once again it's my first time making smut, sorry if i disappointed you! :( i'll do better next time ❤

[ninemelodies]

candle in the dark

also on ao3 astarion & tav, gen, no warnings. astarion finds tav awake really late one night. it's not a problem, until it is.

As he steps out of the trees, Astarion realizes there is something different about the camp. When he had left to hunt, the camp had been quiet and dark. The campfire was banked down to embers and everyone seemed to be asleep, or, at least, in their own tents. 

It took him a moment to realize that the difference was coming from Tav’s tent. The opening had been pinned up slightly, letting in the cool night breeze and a candle flame flickered in time with the wind. This wouldn’t normally be something worth noting - Tav had a habit to stay up just a bit later than the rest of them, but this was different. Dawn was in a couple of hours and they were still awake? 

It wasn’t like Astarion cared about Tav, not really, but they were the first person to be on his side once news broke that he was a vampire. So maybe he owed them, just a little bit. Maybe it was just because he wanted to make sure they stayed on his side. It didn’t really matter. Plus, in the off chance that they had fallen asleep with a candle burning, he had to make sure the idiot didn’t burn down their whole camp.

Quietly, Astarion creeps over. Through the tent flap Astarion can see Tav, lounging on their back and reading a book. 

The book Tav is holding looks like it has been through hell. The cover is torn and water has made the pages wavy and brittle. Tav doesn’t seem to mind. They flip through pages at an impressive speed. Astarion would think they were just skimming if it weren’t for the way they would pause sometimes, brow crinkling and frowning, as they parsed out a more complex paragraph. 

Astarion watches them read about ten pages before he decides to step inside Tav’s tent. “You know,” is all he manages to get out before Tav jerks and swears (in a much more colorful manner than Astarion had expected). 

The novel slips from their grip and lands on their face. They pick it up gently and stare at Astarion as they set the book to the side. “What are you doing here?” they hiss. 

Astarion eyes them carefully. Yes, he had startled them, but there’s something else in the hunch of their shoulders, in the harsh set of their mouth. They’re acting guilty , like Astarion had caught them with their hands down their pants. He smirks. “I was just going to tell you that you were broadcasting an invitation to every pest in the area.” 

“Like you?” Tav mutters, under their breath. 

Astarion chooses not to respond. 

When he doesn’t reply or turn to leave, Tav sighs and throws their arms over their face. They lay there for just a moment longer, before they take a deep breath. “Thank you, Astarion. Did you need anything else?”

When Tav put their arms over their face, their hair shifted, revealing the smaller pointed ears of a half-elf. Anyone with elf heritage could see in the dark, and Astarion knew, from personal experience, that reading a book without a candle would be no issue. The whole situation begins to strike him as utterly ridiculous. “You can see in the dark,” he states, incredulously. “Why are you reading by candle light?” 

The portion of Tav’s neck visible above their collar flushes a light red. They mutter something in response, so quick and quiet even Astarion couldn’t make it out. 

Astarion takes a step closer and crouches down next to them. “I'm sorry, darling, I didn't catch that. You’re going to have to speak up.” 

Tav sighs again, long and put out. They pull their arms away from their face and sit up to glare at Astarion. “I said that my mother told me my eyes would go bad, if I continued to read in the dark.” 

“Human?” Astarion guessed. 

Tav nodded. “She raised me on her own, I don't think she believed me when I said I could see just fine in the dark.” They shrug. “It doesn't matter anymore, she died several years ago, but I just…can’t shake the habit.” 

Astarion blinks at them. He's not used to Tav making offhand comments like that, ones that were kind of sad. That was his job. Rather than dive into, well, all of that , right now, Astarion deflects. “Well, far be it from me to judge your habits. However,” and here he leans forward, firmly inserting himself into Tav’s personal space. To keep his balance, he rests one hand on the book Tav had set aside. “I insist you get some sleep, seeing as how you are half-human and also our fearless leader. It wouldn’t do to have you die in battle because of some book, hm?” 

Tav stares at Astarion. Astarion does not miss the way their gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth and then back. Good, Astarion thought, it meant his plan to secure his own protection was working. However, this time he had a different reason for teasing Tav - he needed them distracted. 

Astarion grins at Tav, before standing up so suddenly that they lean away from him. 

“No, I suppose not,” Tav says, tone far more guarded than it was a moment ago. 

“Good,” Astarion says. He holds up the novel he had snagged so that Tav can see it. “I'll just be taking this with me then. You can retrieve it in the morning.” 

Tav’s eyes widen as they realize what Astarion is holding. They go to lunge for it, but Astarion is faster. He is outside of Tav’s tent and heading towards his own before Tav can even stand fully. 

“Sleep, darling,” Astarion calls over his shoulder. “If you die because you’re too tired to function, I will not be reviving you and I will make sure no one else does either.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tav challenges. 

Astarion pauses and turns on his heel to look Tav in the face. “Are you entirely sure that’s something you want to test?” Tav's lips press into a thin line and Astarion knows he’s won. “No, I didn't think so. Now, sleep .” He waves his hand in a shooing motion and Tav rolls their eyes, but they do turn to head back into their tent.

By the time Astarion makes it to his tent, Tav’s tent is dark, the flap still pinned open for the breeze. Astarion can’t say for sure they’re asleep, but at least they’re trying.  

Astarion ducks into his tent and sets the novel gently into his pack. It seems important to Tav. He will keep good on his word and will return it in the morning. He is not a good person, not moral by any standards, he has stolen many things, some of them extremely precious and personal, but for some reason, the idea of doing that to Tav makes something dark settle in his stomach. It’s not good for business, he tells himself, if he makes Tav mad, then he will be on their bad side, and everything he has worked for so far will have been for naught. 

In the dull light cast by the moon, Astarion stares at the novel he had stolen. Dawn was still a few hours off, and he had been awfully bored lately. With a sigh, he settles on his bedroll, pulls the novel out, and begins to read. 

***

That’s how Tav finds him the next morning. Astarion finishes the last page and looks up to find Tav standing in the entrance to his tent. Tav’s green hair is frizzy, tangled, and mushed on one side where they slept. The bag that he can see under their eye (the other is hidden behind a dark green tattoo), is still darker than Astarion would really like it to be considering he’s staking his life on this person, but small steps. An hour or two of sleep was better than no sleep. 

Tav blinks at him, slow and groggy like they had woken up and wandered their way to Astarion first thing. “Did you…did you read it all?” they ask as their eyes drop to the book Astarion is still holding. Their eyes flick back to Astarion’s face and a frown settles across their face. “So you can stay up reading and I can't?” Tav crosses their arms and leans their weight onto one leg. 

“My dear, I am an elf. I don't sleep , I trance, and I had already done so before I went hunting last night.” Astarion stands and hands Tav their book back. “So yes, I can stay up reading and you can’t. It was a rather good book.”

“It’s my favorite,” Tav says. “There's a sequel, but the main character is different. The hero of this book is important to me, I can -” like they realized they were rambling, Tav cuts themselves off and presses the book closer to their chest. 

Astarion raises a brow, but whatever Tav was going to say, they don’t. “You can, what? You relate to the main character?” Astarion asks. “That’s rather concerning, given that he seems to seriously lack any common sense. You would think he wants to die, given the way he throws himself into any dangerous situation with no hesitation.” Tav stiffens across from him and it does not escape Astarion’s notice. Has he hit just a little too close to home? Would Tav hate him if he pressed just a little further? He hesitates before asking, “Is there something you want to talk about?” 

It’s not something Astarion would usually offer. It’s not like he really cares, he reasons, this is all just part of the plan to butter Tav up, to keep himself on their good side. And yet, there’s something nagging at his heart, telling him that this is serious, that there is an open wound that could fester if left alone. 

“No,” Tav says, shaking their head. “There’s not.” 

Well fine, if Tav didn’t want to talk about it, Astarion wouldn’t be the one to make them. What sort of person would he be, forcing Tav to spill their secrets when he’s keeping so many himself? Astarion knew the answer, of course. That's something the Astarion under Cazador’s control would’ve done. That Astarion would’ve pressed and sliced to the heart of the matter, until his mark was bleeding out and in need of comfort only he could provide. Knowledge of his mark’s insecurities, fears, and secrets gave him power and made them easier to manipulate and lure back to Cazador. But Cazador isn’t here, and Tav isn’t someone he’s trying to lure to their death.

Outside of Astarion’s tent, the rest of camp begins to stir. Astarion can hear Gale setting up for breakfast and Lae’zel sharpening her sword. 

Astarion cocks a hip and turns his most charming smile towards Tav. The weird moment that had grown between them had dissipated. “I'd get back to your own tent, less you want everyone to make their own assumptions about why you’re walking out of my tent, first thing in the morning, looking like that .” He examines the nails on his hand. “Not that I mind, either way, pretty thing that you are.” 

Tav seems to realize the implications as soon as Astarion mentions it and they hurry to back out of his tent. Red has crawled up their neck and settled into the tips of their ears, but their brows are furrowed and the corners of their mouth are downturned. It was the same face they had when they were reading, last night, when they had to slow to parse a more complicated paragraph. They’re looking at Astarion like he’s something they can’t figure out. Astarion isn’t really sure how to feel about that. 

“Yeah, sure, you’re right. Uh.. thanks for not…destroying my favorite book, or whatever.” They clutch their book close to their chest like a shield, turn on their heel, and scurry back to their own tent. 

They don’t emerge again until Gale calls for breakfast, and when they do, they look more put together than they did standing in Astarion’s tent this morning. They don’t bring any of it up again that morning, and they continue to not bring it up for about two weeks after that. 

In the meantime, their merry band takes out the leaders of the goblin army, save a bunch of tiefling refugees and reunite Halsin with the rest of the druids. They run into a vampire hunter and Tav does not turn Astarion in (to his mild surprise, no one else does either). They save a pregnant woman from a hag and they rescue some people from a burning building. 

Every little favor they could do, Tav would do. They weren’t always the nicest about it, either, which was the best part. Sometimes Astarion still grins when he thinks of the way Tav had shoved Minthara into that chasm or frightened that little tiefling kid to tears after rescuing him from harpies. In Astarion’s opinion, Tav was just enough of a bastard to make this adventure palatable. 

In those two weeks, Astarion doesn’t find Tav awake that late again. 

Of course, he doesn’t really check, why would he? There had been no more candles burning late into the night, no more tent flap left open, so Astarion assumes that Tav had been sleeping like a normal person should. He’s almost forgotten about the whole thing, until Tav nearly falls in battle. 

They were clearing some ruins of goblins when it happened. Astarion had been on a higher level than the rest of the battle, and was using his advantage to pick off the goblins that were swarming Karlach and trying to pull her down. He let loose another arrow and watched as it slammed into the side of a goblin’s throat, sending blood spraying onto Karlach’s boots. She didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied as she was with cleaving two other goblins in half. 

In front of Karlach, Lae’zel was fiercely holding her own in the open doorway, stopping a stream of goblins from entering the room and overwhelming them. Astarion couldn’t have helped her even if he wanted to, and he very much doubted she would appreciate it if he accidentally made her a pin-cushion. 

Tav was… Where was Tav? 

Astarion stepped forward, positioning himself just outside the torchlight, and scanned the battlefield. His eyes search for a flash of green amongst all the blood on the ground. He finally finds Tav in the back of the room, kneeling on the ground and struggling to reload their crossbow. Their sword has been knocked out of their hand and gleams a dull silver a few feet away from them. 

There are three goblins approaching them, weapons drawn. Tav glances up from where they’re frantically trying to pull back the bolt on their weapon and hastens their movements when they see how close the goblins are. Panic makes their fingers clumsy and they drop the arrow they were trying to load. When they reach for another, they find that there are no more. They throw the crossbow to the side and their eyes glow as the boom of Thunderwave ripples outward from their outstretched hands. 

The thunderous wave of force hits the three goblins square in the chest. One of them drops immediately, blood trickling out of its ears and eyes rolled back in its head. The other two barely stumble and continue advancing. 

Astarion moves before he can think. He fires an arrow at the goblin on the left, the one who looks a little worse off, and then he vanishes in a flash of white light. He materializes in front of Tav, dagger in hand. He’s lunging forward before the goblins have even realized he’s there. He stabs the one on the right in the throat before he yanks his dagger free and replaces it with his teeth. 

The arrow he had fired before moving finds a home in the eye socket of the other goblin. It falls with a clang, all its armor bouncing off the stone. Astarion pulls back from the goblin he had bitten, its throat still clamped right between his teeth. It gurgles, once, twice, hands reaching to try and stem the blood flowing from its throat, before it too falls. 

He spits out the flesh in his mouth and scans the battlefield again. Karlach swings her ax in an arc, catching the last two goblins surrounding her in the side and sending them sprawling. The one who took the brunt of the blade does not get back up. She brings the ax down on the head of the other with a wet crunch. Lae’zel is pulling her sword from another goblin. She eyes the pile of corpses in the doorway with disdain. 

Satisfied that it’s as safe as it can be, given their circumstances, Astarion takes a moment to take stock of himself. His hands are bunched into fists at his side, the grip on his dagger so tight it almost hurts. He grinds his teeth and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's angry, he realizes. So, so angry. He does not examine why. He also does not examine the second emotion wrapped in that anger, the one that’s making his stomach flip and his throat tight. 

Instead, he whirls on Tav. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking?” Astarion yells. His voice echoes off the stone around them, catching the attention of both Karlach and Lae’zel. 

They wisely do not approach. 

Astarion bends to furiously wipe his dagger on the shirt of a dead goblin before he sheathes it. He straightens and stalks to where Tav’s sword has fallen. “You almost got yourself killed!” He gives the sword a swift kick, sending it clattering across the stone in Tav’s direction.

Tav picks up their sword and sheaths it before standing. Their crossbow is already hooked to their hip. “I'm sorry!” Their hands are up as they try to calm Astarion. 

But Astarion isn’t listening. “I guessed you had a death wish, but I didn't think it was this bad! Goblins? Really? That's how you want your adventure to end? With a piddling little goblin dagger in your chest?” A rational part of his mind knows that they can always just bring Tav back, either with a scroll or by asking Withers, but that’s not the point . 

“I wasn't trying to die!” Tav snaps. 

“Like hell you weren’t!” Astarion snaps back, “I've seen you cast Thunderwave a hundred times at this point, and it has never been that weak!” 

All the fight seems to drain from Tav in an instant. They curl in on themselves just slightly, arms crossed and hands tucked under their armpits. They stare at Astarion and Astarion glares back. Now that he’s not yelling, Astarion can properly look at Tav. He immediately notices the exhausted glaze in their eyes and the dark bags under them, visible even through their tattoo. 

“Not trying to die,” Tav mumbles. “Just tired.” They sway a little and then their knees buckle, pitching them forward. 

They’re saved from hitting the ground only because they hit Astarion first. 

***

Astarion hears Tav’s breathing shift, recognizes the increase in their heart rate an instant before their eyes open. If they’re surprised to see Astarion sitting in their tent with their book in his lap, they don’t show it. 

For a minute they just stare at each other, daring the other to break the silence first. The only noise comes from the wind blowing through Tav’s pinned open tent flap. In the end, it’s Tav who speaks first. “If you’re going to yell at me more, you can leave.” Their eyes shift to the roof of their tent and they study the pattern in the fabric.

“That's a lot of gratitude for the person who kept you from face planting into stone.” 

Tav sighs and when they speak their tone is flat and tinged with sarcasm. “Thank you for saving me from a broken nose, Astarion.” After their thanks, they wait, shoulders tense and hands fisted in their bedroll. 

They’re waiting for Astarion to yell at them again, he realizes. He blows out a breath between his teeth. “I'm not going to yell at you again, even if I think you deserve it for being an idiot .”

Their shoulders relax and they release their fists. “If you’re not going to yell at me, then why are you here? No offense, but I didn't think you really cared that much.” 

Astarion gently sets aside Tav’s book before he leans forward. He settles his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his interlaced fingers. “What makes you think I don't care?” Mentally, he’s going over their interactions, trying to find where his facade had slipped, where he had even remotely managed to imply that he wasn’t interested in Tav. 

There weren’t many things that Astarion felt he was good at, but lying and manipulation happened to be one of them. He had to be good at them if he wanted to survive under Cazador, and at the moment he wasn’t coming up with any reason for Tav to doubt his act.

“Because nobody ever cares about me,” Tav replies. There’s no question in their voice, no hesitation. They state that depressing piece of information like it’s a fact, something set in stone that they’ve always known is true. “I've been lied to, asked out or strung along as a joke enough times that I know when something isn’t right.” 

Astarion straightens. He hadn’t really expected for his plan to be found out like that, but he figured there was no point trying to lie about it now. He’d already crossed the line and yelled in Tav’s face. They were probably just waiting for the chance to throw it back at him and kick him to the gutter. “I won’t lie, it started out like that,” he agrees. “I thought if I could seduce you, get on your good side, then you wouldn’t kick me out of camp, you wouldn’t let anyone else here stake me in the night.” He studies Tav’s face for a reaction.  

Again, Tav does not show any signs of surprise. “You didn’t have to pretend to flirt with me to get on my good side.” They laugh softly. “You’re a bit of a bastard, but I like you enough without all of…that.” They wave their hand in a vague, all encompassing gesture. Tav’s smile shifts, grows small, fragile, and bitter, and Astarion feels a pang of regret for being the cause of the change.

That realization surprises him. Why does he feel like that? When did he genuinely start caring about what happened to Tav, about how they felt? He thinks back to that second feeling when he thought they were about to die, the one he had hidden underneath the anger, the one he ignored by lashing out. 

“I was…” he grimaces but forces himself to continue. “I was worried about you, at the ruins.” 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Tav replies and Astarion throws his hands up with a huff.

“You don’t believe me?” Astarion demands. He nearly grinds his teeth into dust when Tav confirms that they don’t, in fact, believe him. It made sense, he had been lying to them for weeks now, there was no reason to suspect he wasn’t lying now. Except, now they’ve got these funny little parasites in their heads that are telepathically linked. Astarion reaches forward with his tadpole at the same time he says, “Open your mind, I can show you.” 

And Tav does, they let him in just enough that he can feed them the memory of seeing them kneeling on the ground with goblins approaching them. He lets them feel the anger, the physical reactions, he lets them see everything in that span between when Astarion had spotted them and they collapsed. When he’s done, he pulls his mind back and settles with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Oh,” Tav says. “You really were worried.” 

“Yes!” Astarion nearly shouts. “I’ve spent 200 years lying to people about every emotion I've ever felt. 200 years of stamping anything truthful into the dirt so that I could survive. Worrying about someone, caring about someone, would’ve gotten me killed. It still might!” Astarion doesn’t really know why he feels the need to explain, to defend himself and the reasoning behind his actions when he had just shown them . He stops, takes a deep breath and levels his voice back into a normal volume. “This is new to me. I don't know how to do this,” he gestures between them with one hand. “Whatever this is.” 

At some point during his rant, Tav had sat up and was staring at him with wide eyes. “Astarion -”

Astarion holds up a hand to stop them. “I don't want to talk about it right now,” he says. “This isn’t about me.” While it’s a true statement, Astarion just wants the spotlight off his past. He’s divulged enough tonight, and now it’s Tav’s turn. “This is about your appalling lack of self-preservation skills. What happened today?” 

Tav fidgets with a loose thread on their pants. “Told you, I was just tired.” Their eyes slide to the book Astarion has set aside and then back to the thread on their pants. “I've never been able to sleep well, but with everything that’s happening it’s been so much worse. It's like I can feel the tadpole in my brain, all the time .” They start to reach for the side of their head, but change their mind and instead tuck their hand under their leg. “I've been reading to distract myself from it until I'm so exhausted I can't keep my eyes open. After you found me that night, I didn't want another confrontation so…” 

Astarion makes a noise of understanding. Escapism is not something he’s unfamiliar with. “You’ve been reading in the dark, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” they reply. They shrug and finally look Astarion in the face. “I guess it just caught up to me today.” 

A flash of irritation makes its way through Astarion at the casual way Tav seems to shrug the whole thing off. Like it’s absolutely no big deal that they almost died today because they were too tired to reload their crossbow or cast a stronger version of Thunderwave. Astarion doesn’t say any of this outloud. He had said he wasn’t going to yell at Tav. “I would rather say so,” Astarion says, instead. “As the rest of this group of weirdos has decided to make you de facto leader, and I value being alive, which is somewhat contingent on your survival, you will get some sleep.” 

Astarion reaches over and shoves Tav’s shoulder. They fall onto their back on their bedroll with a soft oof . “You can’t sleep without a distraction, fine, but you are going to lay there, close your eyes, and let me read.” He is not asking. He is telling. Tav opens their mouth like they’re going to complain, but Astarion silences them with a glare. “Shut up or I'm leaving, and I'm taking the book with me,” Astarion says, and it comes out a little harsher than he actually means it, but he’s not going to back down now. 

He waits a moment, but Tav voices no argument, so he picks up Tav's book, opens to the first page, and begins to read in a soft voice. 

In the space between one sentence and the next, he hears Tav whisper, “I’m glad we’re friends, Astarion.” Astarion pretends he doesn’t hear it and continues reading. 

[ajstudio]

Edit November 9th, 2023: I corrected the date of Dracula's defeat to November 6th like the book dates since I am currently finishing the audiobook a second time.

======

On September 6th, 2022, I shared this realization with my friends on Tumblr and I remember going bonkers over it:

I shared this with Maddie. I realized something while I was going through the novel, Dracula, again. So the events take place in the month and year the book was published in May 1897. But doesn't that seem off? Then it occurred to me that the seven-month-long events of the book happened before it was published.

Then I remembered that Jonathan and Mina have a son at the end of the book and it's mentioned that seven years had passed. So the events of Dracula took place in the year 1890 or as early as 1889 before the book was published.

So my idea is Abraham Van Hellsing had Bram Stoker publish the book with the year changed.

Also, while a sequel was written by one of Bram Stoker's descendants (which wasn't well received by the fandom) it did mention Abraham had Bram Stoker publish the book because he wanted to help other people that went through the same ordeal he and the others had with Dracula.

So according to Jonathan he and Mina had Quincey on November 6, 1890. One year after Quincey died and Dracula was defeated.

======

So I am making this post because I not only made a mistake on the year the events of the book take place, but I have two possible years the book is set in.

The clue I am going by is the conversation Mina has with Abraham Van Hellsing when she recounts to him Jonathan's shocking although justified reaction to Dracula showing up in London. She mentioned it happened on a Thursday, and earlier in the book she wrote and dated the episode happening September 22nd.

With this information, I went to Time and Dates to look at 17 calendar years for a September 22nd landing on a Thursday and found three: 1881, 1887, and 1892.

I want to believe the events happened in 1887 since not only would Quincey Harker have already been born and seven by the time his family and their friends return from visiting Dracula's Castle in Romania but following these events Abraham Van Hellsing gathers the handwritten and audio accounts of their time dealing with Dracula.

He writes the manuscript that would become the Dracula novel or he meets Bram Stoker who writes the novel after meeting Abraham because Mr. Van Hellsing wanted to help other people that would likely deal with vampires like he and his group did.

After having a difficult time getting the novel published Dracula finally hits the shelves on May 26, 1897, which is ironically Dracula's Day.

I needed to dig a little more before settling on which year Dracula took place in, and boy I hit something and find another clue I overlooked: the Demeter.

After reading up on Bram Stoker and an interesting article about his time studying for the elements pertaining to his novel on Time's website, apparently, the book was centered around real-life events and real-life people.

Jonathan Harker, his wife, and Dr. Seward were real people. The Demeter Incident was real, but the ship was called Dmitri. The sailors said the incident happened a few years ago. Bram Stoker started working on Dracula in the summer of 1890. So I can without a doubt say it was set in 1887. Which gladdens me.

When he tried to hand over the manuscript to be published as a non-fiction book his editor refused it since it pertained to events centering around a mass murder and then before it was finally published in 1897 101 pages were cut out, the epilogue was shortened, and other alterations were made to avoid a mass public panic since the madman was believed to still be around.

I never expected to learn this much about the book and its events to this magnitude but I was certain I would need to change some of the dates on my previous post about vampires and ghouls.

Sources

------

Dracula by Bram Stoker

@merumely @thirstyforlulu @alucardownsmyass @doodleferp @diamond-star @sundove88 @michi-tala @amikartest @trashbaby92 @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @blood-and-cigars @the-hellsing-organisation @icecry @thecrimsonwingsfckerabridged @elixirvitae @therejectkat @alucrd @autumnaaltonen ​ @valentine-bites @theloveandthedead

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

do you have an example of a post where an academic theory is rephrased as a hot take? most of the dracula content ive seen is just memes, so that sounds fun to read. (also, thanks for teaching me the word "acafan", ive been one for a few years now but didnt realize there was a term for it)

@ckret2 talks here about takes being bantered around on Tumblr that show deep academic knowledge of Dracula!

I'm not actually in Dracula fandom. I've got the world's biggest case of sour grapes about Dracula. My Canadian university had a campus in Italy where you could take a course on like, Dracula and the Origins of the Vampire Mythos, that included its own two-week trip through the Balkans and Central Europe, and I wanted to go SO badly, but there was no way I could afford it, so I decided that I Didn't Care, Dracula was Probably a Stupid Book Anyway. (I know it's not, but it was that or have more money angst, you know?)

ANYWAY. ACAFANDOM.

The rest of this is not Dracula related at all, but this is my blog and I'll rant if I want to. What I'm really fascinated by is the academic study of fandom, treating fannish culture and the works we create as legitimate objects of the academic gaze.

Did you know: The Organization for Transformative works, which runs the AO3, also has its own open-access peer-reviewed scholarly journal?

Transformative Works and Cultures

Their current Call for Papers is for a special issue on Centering Blackness in Fan Studies; the most recent issue is about Fandom Histories, which is to say, how fandoms tend to preserve, remember, and represent our past.

(dreamily) One day I'll get my shit together and write an essay for the Symposium section of TWC, which is the space they've set aside for voices from fandom who aren't part of the Academic Establishment.

Two of its founding editors, Kristina Busse and Karen Hellekson, also edited the 2006 book Fan Fiction and Fan Communities in the Age of the Internet: New Essays. Which has an essay that blew my mind and changed the way I think about relationships forever.

Specifically, it was Elizabeth Woledge's "Intimatopia: genre intersections between slash and the mainstream", where she took a conversation that was happening in academic discussions of romance novels and brought slash into it.

Basically, romance scholars were talking about what the difference is between a romance novel, pornography, erotica, or any book that features a love story, because readers sure as hell know that those are all different things. And one of the theories was that the romance genre has this ethos it called the romantopia, an overriding sensibility that what this story is about is the main characters coming together to form a strong marriage. (This is compared to the erotopia of pornography, where the story is "about" the main characters coming together to reach sexual climax.)

And what Woledge said she found quite frequently in m/m slash written by women was a focus on intimacy, on the experience of being deeply seen and known and loved by someone, deeply seeing and knowing and loving them in return, and building a relationship based on that mutual intimacy. Her "Intimatopia" theory says that what these fics were trying to get at was not just a relationship where the participants had agreed to fulfill certain societal expectations together, like "husband", but to deeply interrogate the needs and desires of everyone involved, and define the relationship based on those.

(This theory explains some parts of why slash fandom is perpetually enamored of tropes like fake dating and forced intimacy. You can have characters who achieve both marriage and orgasm, but don't really know each other('s feelings), so the story isn't over yet.)

Which... as a bi girl in the mid-2000s who longed for sex and romance, but was completely starved for positive queer stories, and also didn't find most mass media depictions of heterosexuality appealing: Yes, that is exactly what slash provided me with. Beyond the queer representation, I found that the occasional het written by slash writers was also way more focused on the female partners as individual people, and didn't push them as much into traditional roles, compared to the times I wandered into primarily het-oriented fandoms and was startled by just how heteronormative everything was.

A lot of the writers I adored were queer women who didn't face as much pushback writing flawed and messy men as they did if they dared write problematic femslash, but they were still writing really authentically about the queer lives, experiences, and sensibilities they lived with. Male characters were just as affected by homophobic laws, attitudes, social forces, and military policies as they were, after all. Their male characters reacted, in real-time, to the events that changed their writers' lives.

(About the femslash, I... look, I tried to like femslash in the 2000s. I tried so hard. But albeit some exceptions like The Devil Wears Prada fandom, it seems that there was huge internal community pressure to represent lesbian relationships as idyllic and friction-free. Everything had to be neat and clean and good and giving. Everyone was automatically good at empathizing and accommodating and compromising and nobody felt like people. Especially not the people from the source material I'd fallen in love with. When I found later that one of the big femslash sites was called "Passion and Perfection" it felt like, of fucking COURSE it was.)

So I mostly got my first experiences of sapphic relationships not from the fanfiction itself, but from the personal lives of the writers. They'd blog about their relationships, about who did the dishes and how to persuade your doctor that no really, you're sexually active but not at risk of being pregnant. They talked freely about how changing legalization about same-sex marriage would affect their lives. And they'd often interact with each other in public; a lot of relationships were between fans who both participated in the community, and would collaborate artistically, or organize each other surprise birthday gifts, or write stories to cheer each other up or comfort the other person during times of separation. They represented the diverse queer quotidian possibilities of relationships where you threw out the gender roles and got to be weird together.

And I think... without acafandom, none of that would have felt important or real. For a long time, I would have said that I didn't have any real connections to the LGBTQ+ community. Early on I got a lot of messages that bisexuals weren't welcome in most of the in-person spaces I found, and nothing that I tried later fit either. I didn't like clubbing, loud music, drinking, or loud parties, so none of the LGBT events in my area felt like they were "for" me. And to be honest, unless they were in slash fandom, the reactions of gay men to fanfiction had pretty much all been somewhere on a scale from "derisive" to "scathing": "This isn't about real men. This is garbage and it doesn't represent us."

Which like, fair, I don't feel "represented" by 1950s pulp novels or 90% of recorded lesbian porn, or frankly, most femslash of the 2000s. I wouldn't recommend that era of slash to your average gay man as comfort reading.

But there was something there, in those stories, in that culture, that nourished my soul in deeper ways than I could even say. There was something in this thing we were doing that was important. And Elizabeth Woledge helped me start to explain why.

And in my life as a student and employee, it didn't matter as much how I got my knowledge, but if I used it and showed up on LGBTQ+ issues. It mattered if the old forms I typed up at work got edited to use gender-neutral language. If I corrected academic or direct-service discussions on relationships and intimate partner violence to include more accurate information about LGBTQ+ people. If I pushed for privacy and data management policies that would allow LGBTQ+ people to be open about their identities in some situations without exposing that information to others. If I could make sure that other LGBTQ+ people in the vicinity could see they were welcome and safe. If I could explain proposed legislation changes to people with the power to vote or agitate in some way about them, to make them more sympathetic.

(And yes it's fucked up that I feel like, as a bi woman, I have to pierce my breast and bleed out for the community before I will really "deserve" to belong there. But I do.)

So... yeah. Acafandom's really close to my heart, the way fanfiction is, because without it, there's a lot of my experience that would just feel too weak and frail to form into any sort of social narrative. By using the incredibly powerful tools of scholarly analysis, and taking fan experiences seriously as objects worthy of study, we can figure out what about these things we're all doing actually works. We have more tools to face the future with.

[thevampirearchive]

☾ Vampire lore around the world ☽

[From a black vampire lover - Updated 2024 ]

CW; Contains graphic depictions of vampires, incl. mentions of blood, death and more. Proceed at your own discretion.

Introduction Growing up I always loved all things supernatural, mythology and lore, but being raised christian meant I was not allowed to consume a lot of that type of media. Shows like The Vampire Diaries, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Twilight etc were a no, but somehow I still watched Vampire Of Brookly, and gifted the book series My Sister the Vampire by Sienna Mercer. A I got older, I realized everything boiled down to my parent's love for Eddie Murphy and whether the material in question looked child appropriate. Because to them, vampires were satans foot soldiers; terrorizing, demonic and too sexual (I bet Edward Cullen would have co-signed this in a heartbeat) With the years I got better at hiding my consumption of the terrorizing, demonic and sexy vampires (as teenage girls do) and it didn't take me long to realized that I, a black woman, was never properly represented. It wasn't until I read Twilight for the first time, during Lockdown, that this overwhelming feeling became more heart wrenching because why are we (black people) nowhere to be found in this genre? So of course, I began doing research as well as creating self-insert fics with black vampires. I know that black vampires have been portrayed or featured in western media before, but it was rare to see us be the main lead, an important character, written well or written with a black vampire in mind (oppose to creating a vampire character that happens to be black) The reality is, black and brown vampires in media were always being taken advantage of, mistreated, miserable, had few to little lines, or simply not celebrated as much as none-black vampires despite being cool or even being better, at times.

As I wrote my stories I began to ask my friends if they had any lore in their respective cultures and countries surrounding vampires. I was send a delicious amount of information and furthered my research. And thus began my hunt for the life beyond the living, and here is what I learned...

Disclaimer; All research was done at 3 am, either high or sleep deprived, all sources are cited at the end. If you have more to add or corrections please add it or feel free to DM.

The West and Vampires The Vampyre by John William Polidori (1819) was the first recorded published fictional Vampire Novel, in the West. It was also the first time Vampires had been potrayed as seductive and alluring creatures, whom despite prayed on beautiful (virgin) women, were very much humanized. There was also a sesnualizaton and romantisation of them, unlike previous found material, where vampires were nothing but terroro spreading monsters. Most of the lore that inspired western writers came from Eastern Europe and Aast Asia. The word Vampire itself comes from the Ukranian word Upir - meaning re-animated corpse, and later the word became Vampir in Serbian and by the 1700's the French had adapted it as Vampire. But it's origins date back further, with its origins meaning Witch. Some of the earliest accounts can be found in the later 1500's; In the Croation region of Istria, the villager Jure Grando Alilovic (1579-1656) passed due to illness. He was said to have risen from his grave at night to terrorizing the village for 16 years. He would knock on his victims door, and after a few days, someone from that household would die.In 1672 he was finally decapitated after many attemps of threatening him away, impaling and excorsising him. Simutaniously, in Breslau Germany, a shoemaker took his own life, and out of shame his widow hid his body with the help of her sister. They told people a number of lies to keep the secret of his suicide hidden, but it was not till the ghost of the shoemaker had harrassed the townsfolk for many months - from inflicting nightmares, physical abuse, bruises and punctures, that his body was echumed, cut into pieces and tossed into the river.

By this time, the Vampires in question had for a long time been regarded as the walking dead, resembling zombies moreso then Vampires. It was not till Father Francois Richard wrote of the Greek Vampire the Vrykolakas. This was a seen as a mischivous creature who would prey on their victims in the night - eat all their food, drink their wine, pull off their cloths and proceed to crush them in their sleep. They were said to be stillborn who did not recive their final rites, those concieved or born on a holy day, those who had consumed animals killed improperly, those burried incorrectly, the sinful and those killed by other Vrykolakas. Greece had a reputation of having the most vampires, especially island's such as Santorini.

From Albania we got the lore of the Sampiro, which was a night wandering creatures with glowing eyes, wearing flowing fabrics that covered most of its body, and in a pair of high heels that caused it to sway from side to side. It is said to follow its victim around, making a sound closely resembling kissing noises as it hungers for blood. It was not known to kill its pray, but instead take a larger amount of blood before fleeing again. It would often target the same people and could only be stopped with a stake through its heart. The lore of the Sampiro had it's prejudice as Albanians were conviced that Turks were the once turning into this vampiric creature, due to their mistrust and disdain of the Turkish Ottoman Empire. Alongside the Sampiro, there was also the Lugat (also dubbed the Kukithi), who were known to also not kill their victims but drink smaller amounts of blood to satiate their sensual appetite. It was said to be a shapeshifter who would take the form of a human man, child or animal, who's bite left their victim with psycological or spiritual ailments such as mental disorders, curses or bloodthirst of their own. The way to kill the Lugat was a wolf.

You can imagine there were many more accounts that seemed to appear in journals, letters and more - it wasn't till around 1679 that the matter was taken more serious and investigated. Philip Rohr, Roman theologist, wrote the book 'The Chewing of the Dead' (translaton) where he stated to believe in Vampires existence and that they were not to be hunted through the desecration of graves but instead through the strengthening of faith in God. Many accounts came after disputing the idea of Vampires, while more accounts grew depicting them. With the spredd of more terror across many countries and regions - more living dead were seen roaming hungrilly, drinking from livestock, as well as children and virgin's. It was not til later that physicians would attempt to prove that instantaneous rigor mortis or livor mortis was at play. With shifting corpses and bodies that still contained blood after days of being burried, the creation of devices were created meant to trapped the dead. This was done in metal cages, spiked coffins, decapitation before burrial, removal of teeth, tongue and heart and even the gouging out of eyes. And in some cases, the burning of bodies. Oppositly, devices to insure that no living were accidentally buried were created as well.

Today, many historians explain that these actions were the results of hysteria, which was only further fueled by folklore, as well as the many grave robbers, cannibals, serial killers and farm animal thieves that were present during these times. The panic made it as far as the New World (what we now know as the Americas) but the issue of Withces seemed to rapidly become a bigger problem. As many large events in the world, these stories and occurrences became compelling to artists such as authors and during the 19th century the surge of vampire fiction truly began to gain popularity, specifically in the direction that we recognize today. In our modern time, most see vampires as creatures created to warm young women and children from pale beautiful strangers who seem to never age. But many still believe these creatures existed, or did exist, and that these tales were our ancestors warning us and each other. As stated before, the lore that dominates the west does not always resemble the vampires of the rest of the world. Through research, I’ve found a platter of lore from all over the world, and thus divided them by continent. It is important to note that these versions of vampires have the characteristics of all thirsting for blood, praying on vulnerable people and being overall terrifying. They, on the other hand, do not all resemble the smooth-and perfect skinned pale sunlight-fleeing creatures that we know today to be Vampires. It is therefore important to keep that in mind that not all vampires look the same across the world. I, and many others, classify them as vampires and would like to see more of them respected outside of their respective regions for some flavor.

Africa The first two recorded vampires that I could find were suprisingly two I did not think were regarded as Vampires; From Egypt we have the lion-headed goddess, Sekhmet. As the deity of war (battle and healing) she was created to destroy the enemies of her creator Ra, but she quickly became overly bloodthirsty and was said to be unstopable. It wasn't till a red liquid was created, which was a mixture of wine and human blood (also said to have been beer) that she got drunk and ended her terror. In other versions, it made her fall alseep where her slumber was said to last for 3 days, where she was divided into two goddesses in hopes to end her terror. Her hatred

Despite not being African, the Jewish/Babylonian lore of Lilith, tells the tale of a bloodthirsty woman who would sneak into the homes of people. The ancient lore has inspired popular media, and you may have seen her mention in the Tv-Show True Blood as being the First ever Vampire. The Ashanti Tribe of modern day Ghana, has the obayifo. It is said to appear as human during the day, with shifting eyes and a huge appetite. It has the ability to take flight in search of prey, targeting corpses, children and are often found close to cocoa trees. It has the power to absorbe the lives and energies of its victims - a processes that can take several days. It is often said to be a witche or controlled by one. This is one of the accounts that lean more so towards an energetic vampire more so then the classic blood consuming one. Sometimes it is also closer linked to a zombie then a vampire.

Then we have the Asanbosam, also known as the Sasabonsam - who's lore are more widespread throughout Ghana, Ivory Coast and Togo. They are depicted as human-like creatures with hooked legs, iron teeth and wings that are said to be twenty feet. The Asanbosam live in the trees of the dense forests and feed mainly on those who dare to wander into their domain. They wait silently in their trees to pounce on unsuspecting prey, and rip out their throats with their iron teeth. Other lore depict these creatures as having emaciated bodies and twisted feet, claws, horns and said to be extremely vicious.

The Betsileo tribe of Madagascar has the Ramanga; a creature that is said to work closely with ththe chief(s) or witch doctors, summoned to consumed the blood remaining from surgeries, extractions and accidents. This even included the blood remaining from fallen teeth, nail clippings etc. If they weren’t present, the blood would be preserved and given in ceremonies for when the Ramanga returned. This was not specificed why, but my assumption would be to reward/pay the Vampire for it's work or presence, and to deter it from harming anyone. In the Cape Region of Africa, there’s the lore of a young beautiful man dubbed as the impundulu. He is said to be controlled by a witch, who gained control through female witch line. The witch is said to feed him well with the blood of cattle and humans, as well as even sleep/marry him. All this is done to keep him satiated so he continues to work for her, and to avoid betrayal and rebellion. 

The Ewe people of Togo have the lore of the Adze, who takes the shape of a firefly. This creatures form is described as having a hunchback, sharp talons and jet-black skin when they are not fireflies – which is their most dangerous form, as it is then they are able to kill their victims, drink their blood and eat their heart. They favor feasting on young children, so this lore has been said to be the result of warning people from trapping fireflies.

In the southern parts of Africa the lore of the Tikoloshe, which is an energetic Vampire, is said to resemble a freakish baboon. They are said to have a violant appetite, and often assult women and suck their energy. Many believe a witchdoctor can trap and destroy them by luring them with milk.

Most energetic vampires are known to be monsters hiding amongst us, sucking out the energy of those around them to keep young and beautiful. I've added this type of vampire due to the many accounts of them, and it is facinating to imagine more then one type of vampire. The lack of blood consumption is still fascinating, as the thought of a human like creature that can survive off others essence/energy feels just as terrifying as a bloodthirsty ones

Asia

In the Philippines there is the lore of the Manananggal. She is believed to be a shapeshifting woman who sucks the blood of pregnant women’s stomachs. Like many western vampires, she hates garlic and her thirst is endless. She’s often depicted as a flying disembodied sucking nightmare at night, but beautiful by day. There is also the lore of the Aswang, which is often also a generic term for malevolent supernatural entity. She is said to be a beautiful woman who traps her victims, sucks and drains their blood with her proboscis-like tongue. There are many similar lore to her, but she is considered the deadliest.

In Cambodia, my friend told me of the female ghost Krasue; “She is a head with floating organs hanging out of her as she flies around at night looking for victims to suck the blood out off for her survival. She was cursed as a woman for her sins (or something like that) then was reborn this way.” In Malaysia there is the lore of the Bajang - a weasley-like male creature that is inoffensive at first glance. He is said to be created from the bodies of stillborn babies, and that their victims typically are babies, newborns and children. Often, they seek out families with small children, and after being accepted into the family, they feed on the children and rarely spare the parents. Their cries are said to be able to induce illnesses in children, as well as spreading diseases and madness through entire towns. There is also a similar lore but of a small statue like creature that is passed down from generation to generation, that requires blood for it to obay the word of its master. It is not possible to destroy it, but instead appeasing it with blood offerings. Killing its master simply results in it finding a new one. In Indonesia there is the tale of the Leak, a creature that feeds on unborn children and babies. They are believed to be women who have black magic abilities, and who have a strong thirst for human flesh and blood. By day she appears normal, but by nighth er intestines break free and her head floats, hunting for victims. In Japan, there are a few vampire-like mythological creatures, but those that exist are all often depicted the same; As a human-size serpent (or with an animal body) with a woman’s head. They are often found near large bodies of water, and different provinces of Japan, have varying descriptions. What is common is that these creatures are known as merciless killers. An example is the Suiko, which means ‘water tiger’, and they drags humans into rivers and lakes, only to drain them of blood and feast on their souls. They are said to do this to stay in power rather than to satiate thirst or substance. Note; In my research I've observed that many asian vampire lore come from islands of southeast Asia, where similar sightings have been retold (beautiful woman who turns into floating heads, guts hanging out as they roam villages and cities in attempt to satisfy their thirst for blood and bodies) More examples of this is Myanmar's Kephn, who resembles the Malaysian Penanggalan and Bajang.

The America's and surrounding islands

Amongst the Wyandot People, indigenouus to North America, the legend of the Hooh-Strah-Dooh is what I found many describe as a cross between a zombie and a vampire. The Hooh-Strah-Dooh is said to be an evil spirit that inhabited recently dead bodies and caused the corpse to rise and devour the living.

In the Carribeans there is the female vampire-like monsters who is often dubbed Soucouyant, Loogaroo and many other names. They are bloodsucking elder women, who are reclusive by day but by night they take off their skin and hide it away to fly across the sky as a fireball in search for victims. They leave their victims bruised black, purple and blue. They are said to suck their victims dry till they die or become like her.  To expose them or hinder, it is said to throw rice around the house or on the crossroads of the village. The creature will be distracted by the grains and want to pick every single one up, and by the time she’s done, the night will be over and she is forced to return to her skin. This is believed to be a French-West Indies lore mixed with western African lore and French lore (I could not find which ones).

The Argentinian (and Chilean) Mapuche People have a lore of the Peuchen, a shapeshifter that is often described as gigantic flying snake, who produced strange whistling sounds and has a paralyzing gaze that permits them to suck their victim's blood.

Afro Colmbians, and sometimes Ecuadorians, are said to have believed in the Tunda; a female shapeshifter, who would take on the shape of a loved one, lures her victim in and drinks his blood. They often preyed on men who wandered in the forests or are campt outside.

The Patasola or also known as the "one foot" creature, similar to the former, appears in many South American lore. The Patasola is a jungle monster who appears before male hunters or loggers in the middle of the wilderness. They are said to only appear when men think of women (including their significant other) The creature will take on a beautiful shape and seduce the men, luring him away from his group and deeper into the jungle before feeding on his blood and flesh.

Melanesia

Of the Banks Island, Venuatu, the vampire lore of the talamaur is known as being either good or evil. The evil ones would feed on the energy of the newly dead or dying. Alongside that, they are also known to enslave healthy people's souls by eating their heart. This type of vampire was said to be able to control the ghost of a dead person, and could use them to drain the vitality from the living and the recently deceased.

Nordic

In iceland, the Draugr is rooted in Icelandic Viking and Norse mythology lore - Their motivation is said to come from jealousy and/or greed. They are shapeshifters, associated with the deep forest and nature overall, where they are said to roam and deplenish livestock by either riding them or pursuing them in their hideous form. Despite their consumption of blood and flesh, they are often mostly associated with vampires because of their contagiousness – They are said to be able to spread their likeness (vampirism) through luring others and contaminating them.

Conclusion

The more I research, the more I find many similarities across cultures, continents and different time periods. As I go, I am slowly compiling a vampire reading list (literature) to read, as well as creating the bounds, laws and lore for my own story, with heavy inspirational rooots from those of the past. Even the western vampires of today seem to have strayed far from their roots of Zomie-like vampiric creatures, and I am starting to wonder if we were to have stuck with them would there have ever been the heavily white-supremicst rooted vampires of today? Would it have become a tool to press this immortality-perfection imagery on the world? or would they have found a way to still romantisized the corpse-like, terrifying vampires? Regardless, it is all very interesting and I hope to continue to discover more of these accounts and lore for my own etnertainment purpuse. Finding that there was an abundant amount of BIPOC accounts and tales of Vampires have given me so much inspiration and (sickly enough) joy knowing we do indeed exists within the genre. There is a plethora of different types of vampires, some crossing between zombie, witch and wolf, and all it took is to dig deeper.

Thank you for reading Updated 7/1-24 Sources;

The Vampire Timeline

Vampire Folklore by Region

Vampires of Albanian

The history of Vampires on Santorini

Vampires Before Dracula

Breslau Vampire

Francois Bertrand

American Antiquarian (Contains more source on Vampires)

Jure Grando - The First Recorded Vampire

Obayifo

Manananggal

East Asian Vampire Lore

Types of Vampires

Lamia - The Greek Demon (also check out Empusa and Mormolykeia)

[sharkselfies]

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast Transcript - Episode 1

Since some folks requested it on Twitter, I’ve started transcribing The Minds Behind The Terror podcast episodes! Below the cut you’ll find episode 1, where showrunners Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh talk to Dan Simmons, the author of the novel The Terror, about episodes 1-3 of the show. They discuss Simmons’s initial inspiration for writing the book, the decisions they made to adapt it into a television series, and the depictions of some of the characters such as the Tuunbaq, Hickey, and “Lady Silence.”

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast - Episode 1 

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

Dave Kajganich: Hello! Welcome to Minds Behind The Terror podcast. I’m Dave Kajganich, I am a creator and one of the showrunners of the AMC show The Terror, and I’m here in the studio with executive producer and co-showrunner Soo Hugh.

Soo Hugh: Hello!

DK: And we welcome today the author of the sublime novel The Terror, on which our show is based, author Dan Simmons, calling in from Colorado. Welcome, Dan! Hi! 

Dan Simmons: Hi Dave, thank you. 

DK: So let’s start with the very beginning. This was a mystery from actual naval history that you decided to transform into a novel that was crossed with Gothic horror. Can you tell us a little bit about where you got the idea from this, how you went about preparing to write it, anything that can give us insight into how you blended all of these remarkable genres into this incredible book.

DS: I’ve known since I was a kid that I wanted to tell a story about either the North or South Pole. And the reason is in 1957, 58, when I was very young, actually I was just a fetus, they had the international geophysical year, and that really caught my imagination. Now the international geophysical year saw cooperation between American and Soviet scientists, it was the height of the Cold War, that’s the first time they submit(?) a permanent base at the South Pole, and I fell in love with Arctic stories. I had one book left on a book contract with a publisher I really liked, and we hadn’t decided what that book was, and I wanted to write a scary story about the Arctic, in this case the Northern Arctic, and that happened because I was doing a lot of research on Antarctica and just couldn’t figure out what the macabre, Gothic, scary part would be. I wanted to put it in, but I didn’t think they’d go for, you know, an eight foot tall vampire penguin. 

[laughter]

DK: You might be surprised! 

DS: There was a footnote on a book I was reading about the Franklin Expedition, which I had never heard of, and I decided that’s what I was gonna write about, and it had a tremendous amount of the unknown that I could fill in, that’s what novelists love. And so I told my editors excitedly that this was what I was gonna do, I would call it The Terror after the HMS Terror that went with the Erebus, got stuck in the ice, all the crew disappeared in history… And they said no. 

[laughter]

DS: ...it was the first time the publishers did that. I said, “Why not? I think it’s gonna be a pretty good novel.” And they said, “Look, nobody’s interested in a bunch of people that’ve been dead for 150 years.” 

SH: That sounds like some of our meetings.

[laughter]

DS: So I did what maybe you do, in such a meeting, I just thanked them, and I liked them all, and I had a good dinner(?) and I said goodbye, and bought back my last book on the contract and went out and wrote it on spec. 

SH: Well why don’t we take a step back, Dave, and why don’t you tell us about how you found Dan’s book and that experience?

DK: Sure! Dan, you might remember some of these steps from your side of it, which is that originally this was auctioned by Universal as a feature, and I sort of tried to get the rights and was a bit too late, and tracked them down to the producers at Universal who were running the project and got myself hired as the screenwriter for a feature adaptation. By the time I was ready to start actually committing an outline to the paper, Universal had let the rights go because there was a competing project. It was interesting to sort of rack up reasons why people wanted to make it but didn’t feel that they could pull the trigger, and we were so grateful when AMC finally called us back and said, “Look, we’ve figured out a model where we can do this as a limited series,” it really felt like ten episodes was a great length for this, because we could blend genres in a way that, you know, we could unpack sort of slowly, more slowly than a lot of shows would’ve done, and drive the plot as much as we could, like the novel, with character choices and decisions as opposed to just horror kind of entering the frame and taking over for one set piece after another. So it was a long journey, getting this to AMC, but at the end of the day I think we found the right home for it.

DS: I can no longer imagine a two hour version, feature film version of this story, and I can’t imagine a second season of this story, I think it was just right.

SH: It does feel like we did a ten hour cinematic novel. 

[audio from the show]

Crozier: Only four of us at this table are Arctic veterans. There’ll be no melodramas here--just live men, or dead men. 

SH: Dan, Dave and I talk about how addictive the research gets for this when you start going down the rabbit hole, how did you approach the research?

DS: I think most novelists run into that, but since I write a lot of quasi-historical novels, at least set in history, I get totally addicted to going down the rabbit hole. Readers say, “Well, Simmons’ book is too long, and the descriptions of things are too exhausting,” but I watch your characters go on deck and there are all the things and views and everything that I tried so hard to describe and then people tell me, y’know, “talky, verbose,” and in print I have to do it that way, but you just pan the camera a little bit. 

DK: You have words, we have images! For every thousand of yours, we get one!

DS: Yeah.

SH: But I remember this passage in your book where it talks about all the different ices, and you vest it with so much psychological import. We talk about that passage a lot in the writers room, it was one of our highlights, of this is how you do great descriptive writing.

DK: And you made so many parallels between things like the environments of the ships and characters, you built a kind of code book for the show without realizing you were doing it, which is making visual metaphors out of a lot of these things that would normally just be exposition or historical detail.

SH: Well especially between Crozier and the ship, I mean when you hear about Crozier’s relationship with Terror, and you have so many amazing passages about, you know, the groan of the ship and how it, y’know, and you cut to a scene with Crozier and how you feel that the bones of Crozier is embedded in the ship, and we really took a lot from that. 

DS: Well I noticed that on one of the episodes where Lord Franklin [sic] is trying to get back in touch with Crozier, you know, trying to be friends with him again, I think it’s a brilliant episode you guys wrote.

[show audio]

Franklin: You’ve succeeded in avoiding Erebus most of the winter.

Crozier: I’m a captain. I’m--I’m peevish off my own ship. I leave it and I hear disaster knocking at its door, before I’m ten steps away.

DS: And that was beautifully written, that. You got so much of Crozier right there.

DK: It was a pleasure to write these characters on the backs of your writing of these characters, because you really--I mean, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, as you know, from having written, you know, a whole long string of historical books, is to make these people’s psychologies feel as modern as they must have felt in their day, while still being able to articulate some of the blind spots of being from the eras they were from. 

I’m curious from sort of a history nerd point of view, if people watch the series and like the series, and read the book and like the book, and want to know more about this expedition, what’s the first book about the Franklin Expedition you would point people to? What was most helpful or most interesting in your research? 

DS: I apologize, I can’t think of the name of it, but it’s a collection of stories about both the South and North Pole, and so it’s a short section on the Franklin Expedition, but it didn’t make mistakes, and most of the other books that I read, uh, keyed, and videos for that matter, like PBS did a story about the Franklin Expedition, but they keyed off a 1987 attempt by several doctors to figure out what happened to the crew, and they exhumed three crewmen’s bodies from the first island where they stayed the first winter, and those crewmen had only been on the ship a couple of months, but they decided because of a high lead content that the lead had poisoned them and then made them stupid, and made them paranoid and everything, but they didn’t compare that test of lead with any background people in London at the time, and later they did, so I didn’t believe the lead thing.

DK: Well that’s the fascinating thing about a mystery with this many parts and pieces, kind of in flux, is, you know, you can create all kinds of competing narratives about it, and what’s fascinating about writing a fictional version is you can’t have that kind of ambiguity, you have to make a decision. I think people will enjoy very much ways that the show and the book have a similar point of view, and also ways that they diverge in their points of view, because there are so many ways to tell this story--

SH: Well you know how much we invest responsibility in the audience as well, right?

DK: Sure.

SH: In terms of your book and our show as well, we’re not against interpretation, that there’s a responsibility on the audience’s part to put together--we’re not gonna hand feed them. There’ll be some people who put more of an onus on Franklin, and others who would say, “You know, if I was in that position, I probably would’ve made the same decision,” “Oh no, this definitely killed the men,” “No, this killed them!” and that dialogue is exciting, you know, when you read fans talk about your show and your books and really smart, insightful ways. 

[show audio]

Franklin: Would it help if I said that I made a mistake? 

Crozier: You misunderstand me, Sir John, I--I only meant to describe why I brood, not that I judge.

DS: I don’t worry about who or what my reading audience is. People ask me about that and I don’t imagine a certain reader. But I’ve always tried to write for somebody who’s more intelligent than I am. My perfect reader would be just smart as hell, speak eight languages, you know, have fantastic world experiences, and I want to write something that will please that person, and I think your show does the same thing.

DK: Well we were--that was our motto! We wanted to be sort of the dumbest members of our collaboration and there’s a sort of horrifying moment when you realize that’s come true. 

[laughter]

[show background music]

DK: Tell us a little bit about why you made the decisions to tell the story in the order you told it, and whether you sort of felt like there was anything from the way you had told it that we were--or a missed opportunity. We’d love to know sort of what your experience of that was. 

DS: I don’t think there were any missed opportunities in terms of not adapting my way of telling it, and I can’t remember all the reasons for why I broke it down that way, some of them were just very localized to, you know, when I was writing that particular bit. But I do know that it gains a lot by being told chronologically the way you’re doing it, so for me that seems now the logical way to tell it again.

DK: Have you ever read the novel in chronological order? When we hired writers for the writers room, we gave them a list of what the chapters were like in chronological order, and I think we asked half the room to read it in your order and half the room to read it in chronological order so we could have a discussion, a meaningful discussion about whether there were things about telling it without being in chronological order that we wanted to embrace or not. It was a fantastic experience and I wonder if you’ve ever read your chapters in chronological order? ‘Cause it’s also a fantastic book!

[laughter]

DS: I haven’t read it that way, they were that way in my mind before I started getting fancy and breaking them up and moving them around in time and space, but I would love to have seen that experiment.

DK: The reason we can get away with it in the show is because there is a loved book out there that people trust, and you know, it is a classic in this genre, so I mean this is a perfect example of, you know, the amount of gratitude we owe the book, because we got away with a lot of things that maybe we wouldn’t have been able to get away with because you came before us. 

SH: And speaking of those rabid fans, Dan, it’s been really interesting reading audience reactions to the show from people who’ve loved the books and who just naturally will compare the two, and we’ve been heartened by just how supportive our fans have become--are of the show. There is this controversy, some people like our choice to give Lady Silence a voice and some people feel it was sacrilege to your book, where do you fall on that? DS: At first I was surprised. In fact when you were hunting for an actress for Lady Silence and I read about that, it said somebody who’s fluent in this Inuit language and this Inuit language, and I said, “What the hell?”

[show audio]

[Silna speaking Inuktitut to her dying father] 

DS: Having seen her with the tongue and heard her, and knowing the different reason they call her Lady Silence, it all works for me and I was also surprised when Captain Crozier could speak fairly fluent, you know, dialect, ‘cause I had him just not understanding a thing.

[show audio]

[Crozier speaking Inuktitut to Silna in the same scene as above]

DS: I love it when readers get rabid about not changing something from a book, and I have to talk to them sometimes, not ‘cause I have a lot of things adapted, this is the first one, but I love movies. They say “Aren’t you worried it will hurt your book?” and first I explain Richard Comden(?)’s idea that you can’t hurt a book anyway, except by not reading it, I mean the books are fine, no matter how bad some adaptation becomes. Books abide, and so I wasn’t concerned. With the changes that I see, I get sorta tickled, whereas some readers get upset, and they just have that set. So I think that the vast majority of viewers haven’t--well, I know the vast majority haven’t read the book, haven’t heard of the book, probably, they’re gonna keep watching because of the depth of the characters, and that’s based on the first two episodes, and I agree with them completely.

[show audio]

[Silna speaking Inuktitut]

Crozier: She said that if we don’t leave now, we’re going to “huk-kah-hoi.”

Blanky: Disappear. 

SH: We get asked a lot of questions about the supernatural element of the show and the way a monster does or does not figure in the narrative, and seeing our episodes, did it feel surprising or did it feel faithful to the way you imagined it as well to your book? 

DS: It was surprising to me at how well it was done, because it’s hard, I know, to show restraint in a series like this, and certainly in a movie, but it’s hard to show restraint at showing and explaining the monster. 

[show audio]

[ominous music, Tuunbaq roaring, men screaming]

DS: The way you did it in the first few episodes to me were just lovely, just, you know, a hint of a glance at something and then you see the results of this creature, so that’s what I tried to do in the novel, one of the reasons I moved around through space and time, part of what I wanted to do was not cheapen the story and not cheapen the reality of these poor men dying by just throwing in a monster, and so I tried to do it in a way that would not disrespect the true tale, and I believe you’re doing it the same way I tried. 

DK: The way you incorporated the supernatural into the book, I mean, I was a fan of it when I first read it. It was jaw dropping the way that it fits so well on a level of plot, on a level of character, and on a level of theme. So when we got the green light to adapt it I was so confident that we were going to be able to do something with it that would be able to be nuanced because the bones of it are so organically terrific.

SH: It helped us know what we didn’t want to do. That formed so much of our conversation, of “this is what we do not want, this is what we do not want,” and slowly you whittled down to getting down to the essence of what this thing had to be.

[show audio]

[Tuunbaq growling]

DK: Another character from the book that really stands out for fans that they are wondering what in the world we’re doing with is Manson. [laughter] And I was curious what you made of the fact that he is pretty invisible in the first three episodes of the show, and that some of his plot beats have been given to a character called Gibson, who I don’t remember is--I don’t think he’s featured very much in the novel. And I wondered if that caught you off guard or if you sort of intuitively had a sense of what we were doing in making that change? 

DS: Any discussion of Manson to me leads to Hickey converting him to his future, his tribe, the tribe he wants to have, group of worshippers, that I think Hickey wants to have, but he does it by sex below decks. Hickey’s not gay at all, he’s a manipulator, to me, and he was manipulating Manson who was big and dumb, in my book, he’s manipulating him by this sexual encounter. But I was curious whether you were worried about showing that?

DK: Well, we weren’t worried about showing characters having same-sex affairs or relationships. We wanted to make room in Hickey’s character for actual affection, or if not affection then companionship, or some kind of connection.

[show audio]

Hickey: Lieutenant Irving! I was hoping we’d meet. 

Crewman: Mind the grease there, sir. 

Hickey: I wanted to... thank you… for your help. For your discretion, I mean. 

Irving: Call it anything but help, Mr. Hickey. Please. I exercised clemency for a man abused by a devious seducer.

DK: We wanted to make sure that Hickey had access to command in some way that a steward, an officer’s steward, would be able to provide him, that an able seaman wouldn’t be able to provide him, and that was really valuable to us in terms of charting out all of these character stories, was how does he know what he knows about how command is dissatisfied or where the fractures are if he can’t see them from where he’s sleeps in his cot in the forecastle. 

SH: I mean we know that there were relations between the same sex on ships, it just was part of this world. Not to belie that there was serious consequences for it, but you know, we have 129 characters, and we wanted them to feel fully fledged and rich, and, you know, passions do naturally develop and have no characters engaged in sexual relations would have felt just as odd and perhaps even more controversial, and when Irving discovers Gibson and Hickey, his shock is from such a subjective point of view of his moral center. It’s not the camera’s perspective, right? Our camera’s very neutral in that scene. It’s Irving, that character at that point in the show, that is infusing a sense of horror, that’s his horror moment.

DS: I’d like to add that it’s not the gay connection that would cause criticism, but I was flayed alive because the most openly quote “gay” unquote character, that is, Hickey, you know, maybe hunting for affection but definitely hunting for power, he’s the only one they said in reviews, and he’s a killer and a bad person, so I’m homophobic, but I was flayed alive for that. The word homophobic appeared in about 80 reviews. Nobody mentioned the purser, who uh--

DK: Right, Bridgens and Peglar.

DS: Yeah. I thought he was a fascinating character. I loved getting glimpses of him in the series because he’s super smart, he’s super wise, he’s probably wiser than any of the commanders, ahd he’s obviously in love with--who is it that he’s in love with in the show?

DK: Peglar. 

DS: Yes, that makes sense. And, uh, so Peglar says, you know, “Is this another Herodotus?” and, “No, I’m giving you Swift now,” he’s educating the man he cares for. 

[show audio]

Hickey: I understand you cleared up our “association” for Lieutenant Irving? Gibson: You spoke to him.

Hickey: Mhm.

Gibson: Directly?

(beat)

Christ, Cornelius, I’d reassured him.

Hickey: Cornelius Hickey is a “devious seducer.” That was your--that was your reassurance? You’ve got some face, you know that? 

DK: We wouldn’t have dramatized Hickey’s story if we weren’t also going to pull in Peglar and Bridgens’ story, because we knew that people, you know, are predisposed to sort of make that kind of quick assumption, and we just wanted to make sure that the show didn’t have that blind spot and reflected the book, which also doesn’t have that blind spot. 

SH: We had those same questions with Lady Silence, and I’m sure you did as well. When we meet her, she’s a frightened young woman who’s about to lose her father, and that’s a universal character moment that anyone can relate to, and the otherness is sort of--is secondary, but then once--in the end scene of 1.02, when she’s sitting there grieving her father and then you have that language barrier with everyone else, we worked with Nive on this because we wanted to make sure the language itself was as accurate as possible, so when you say disappear making sure that the disappear in our language means the same thing as disappear in her language. I think whenever you have characters that feel othered in most media and you’re bringing them into your show, Dave and I also just wanted to make sure we weren’t swaying on the pendulum on the other side and being almost too careful about touching them, and with Nive I think when you have an actor of that talent, she was strong, she was representing a voice that she felt very confident in, and that was very reassuring for us.

DS: And it works well, and when her father’s dying, she throws herself on his chest and says “I’m not ready, it’s too soon, I’m not ready,” and I love that in the show because if she’s gonna become a Shaman he’s dying you know it’s not reached that point of education yet where she feels secure and later on you know beyond what we’re discussing today she becomes to me in the show I see her as more and more majestic.

SH: I do love the word majestic ‘cause I think it describes pretty much all of our characters. I agree, I do think there is something very sublime about who they have become at the end because when you go through that much trials and tribulations, it’s this beautiful human spirit to endure. 

DS: I think that’s one of the central themes of the story that you’ve brought out so clearly. In most post-apocalypse, you know, terrible situation movies and shows, everybody turns nasty as hell, they start shooting each other, it’s just like WWIII when they should be helping each other survive, and I found even though there was controversy, even though there was opposition in this story, people opposing against each other, still that they rose to the occasion. And that is so rare I think in much media these days or even books where the characters are themselves and they do the best they can, and when things get bad they rise to the occasion.

DK: The first conversation you and I had about the book, you know, I was basically pitching you sort of what I thought thematically the book was about, and I talked a lot about, that in a disaster like this, a kind of moral emergency, that we would get a chance to unpack what is sort of best and worst in these characters’ souls.

DS: I confuse readers often when I was on book tour for this book, and it was a long time ago, I’ve written a few million words since then, but I confused people by saying that if you want a theme for the survival story of The Terror, it’s love. It’s love between the men. And just unstinting love. And this came out in a piece of dialogue, in the first two episodes.

[audio from the show]

Franklin: I’ll not have you speak of him uncharitably, James. He is my second. If something were to happen to me, you would be his second. You should cherish that man. 

Fitzjames: Sometimes I think you love your men more than even God loves them, Sir John. 

Franklin: For all your sakes, let’s hope you’re wrong. 

DS: That to me was right the theme I was working with, and with Crozier who shows it a different way, with Fitzjames who’s struggling to show leadership, and between the men despite their hierarchy and the British hierarchy, the rank and lieutenants and so forth, eventually they come down to loving the men they try to save. And I found that lovely. 

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

DK: Thank you so much for listening to The Minds Behind The Terror, join us in our next edition when we talk about episodes 4-6 with the additional guest Adam Nagaitis phoning in from London. We will see you soon!

[preview snippet from the next episode plays]

DS: I’ll confess something else to Adam, the first time I watched it, I thought your character was a good guy because he jumped down in that grave to put the lid back on.

[laughter]

[dw-writes]

32 for henry sturges :3

so, for anyone who doesn’t know, Henry Sturges is a character played by Dominic cooper in the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and one of the main characters in the novel by the same name, while being the main character in the sequel, The Last American Vampire. sadly, the author of those novels is The Worst (TM) and i am now claiming this character as my own and will treat him kindly

i love him so fucking MUCH

I HOPE YOU ENJOY LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

Saying “I love you”....in a way that I can’t return.

There were parts of your memory that were hazy – days that were missing as you tried to remember why you were in pain, why you were tired, when you had fallen asleep. You remembered the better parts – the parts where you accepted a new job as a personal assistant, where you met your stupidly rich boss, where you found him weird and obnoxious and meeting every cliché that you had ever read about.

You especially remembered the part where you discovered that he was a vampire. That was important.

You shifted, the smooth surface of expensive sheets sliding against your skin. They were soft, and smelled lovely, and you recognized the scent as the one that Henry used for everything that could be washed. It was an older scent, one that wasn’t really made anymore, that he got from a little store on the other side of the city. It was one of the few things that he did personally.

Burying your nose into the pillow, you let out a sigh. At least you knew you were home, and comfortable.

A damp washcloth traced over your temple, down your cheek, and around the back of your neck.

“You’re alright,” whispered a familiar voice, one tinged with accent so faint it could never be placed, “You’re safe.”

You dreamed about that vivid memory of discovery. Henry Sturges had centuries of practice of keeping his identity a secret, something that, if you had been more observant, you would have noticed at lot sooner. But even someone with centuries of experience under his belt was prone to forgetfulness, and that was something that plagued him that day – he had forgotten his own set of keys to the house when he had set off on his usual journey across the city. He’d only realized it when he was too far gone and had called you to get the keys for him.

“If you could,” he had added, “If you aren’t too busy.”

“Of course,” you replied, “I’ll bring them to you.”

You failed to tell him that you, too, were on the opposite side of the city, and that it would take you longer than expected to take the keys to him. That was why you had arrived at the store after closing time, found it unlocked, and discovered Henry hauling a man clean off the ground with one hand, while bearing a mouth full of gleaming shards of bone. He dropped the man when you shouted at him to stop, failed to see you grab a pipe to swing at his skull.

(The memory bubbled up in your dream, descending upon you as though through a fog.)

You held the pipe with both hands, standing between Henry and the stairs leading up into the convenience store. Henry held his head between both hands, groaning, doubling over his knees. The other man, the store own, was still crumbled on the ground, unharmed, but unconscious.

“You hit me!” Henry shouted, “You actually hit me!”

“What do you expect?!” you snapped, “You? What are you?!”

He stumbled as he straightened, examining his fingers, then touched his head again. He stepped towards you.

You lifted the pipe over your shoulder, ready to strike again, yelling out nonsense.

“Don’t hit me again!” he cried.

“Get back!” you shrieked, “Get? Back! And answer my question!”

“Put the pipe down,” he said instead.

“Answer me!”

“Put the pipe down!”

“Answer the fucking question, Henry!” you paused, “If that’s your real name.”

His mouth dropped open with a scoff. You brandished the pipe as he stepped closer, stuttering out a disgusted, “I can’t believe the distrust! The suspicion!” He was on you in the literal blink of an eye, gently prying the pipe from between your clenched fingers like it was nothing. He tossed it away. The comical hurt he had previously worn was gone as he said, “I’m a vampire.” He squeezed your shoulders and set you on the steps. “Stay here a moment? I’ll be right back.”

(He’d left the poor store clerk – Seth, you remembered his name being – with a stack of journals, then swept you away back to his home – your home, the place where he provided you with a room of your own and asked for no rent at all – to sit you down and explain what he could.)

A hand gingerly pressed against your cheek, turning your head enough towards the owner to allow them to drip a warm liquid between your lips. It was bitter, with an aftertaste you couldn’t describe, and you twisted your head away from it.

A warm sigh tumbled across your face. “This is something you’ll have to get used to,” whispered a familiar voice, “And it won’t be easy, I can promise you that. But I’ll be there every step of the way.” A word caught on his voice, scratching in your ear as he cleared his throat. A pair of lips brushed over your temple.

Those words were so familiar. It took you a moment – a moment in which you fell back into a deep slumber – but you recalled where you’d heard them. You had said them, years before, when Seth had approached Henry about a biography. You remembered finding him pacing the first floor of his town house, reading over a letter that you assumed was from the author in question, swearing beneath his breath as he wore a path in the floor.

You told him so as you leaned on the banister, giving him an easy smile. He merely stared at you – you would have called it a glare if you hadn’t known him so well – and waved the paper in your direction.

“He wants to interview me,” he grumbled.

“I think that’s been done before,” you countered.

Henry crumbled the paper and tossed it in your direction. You ducked the projectile with a laugh, almost missing his scathing comment about your mocking. “That was a terrible joke!” he said with a huff, “Awful.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said as you sat on the stairs, “Especially if people take what you say to heart – what the book says to heart.” Henry sat on the stairs, leaning back against the wall to look up at you. You reached out to run your fingers through his clean, un-styled hair. “It won’t be easy; I can promise you that. But I’ll be here for all of it. If you want.”

He leaned into your hand with a miniscule, unnecessary sigh. “I cannot imagine anyone else helping me with this,” he whispered.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Not even the man you trusted your beloved Abe’s journals to?”

(The quip earned you a gentle pinch, and eyeroll, and a smile only you were truly welcome to.)

You had rolled in your sleep, or had been moved, into a position that was startlingly comfortable. You turned your face further into the soft fabric under your cheek.

“Are you awake?” asked Henry, his voice surprisingly close to your ear while whatever you laid on rumbled with his words. Your eyes fluttered. A finger brushed over each of them, brushing the crust from your lashes. You wrinkled your nose. “You are awake,” he whispered, “Take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”

“What happened?” you croaked. You smacked your lips together and groaned; your mouth tasted awful. You rolled away from Henry’s tender hold, burying your face back into the pillow beyond his arm. “How long have I been asleep?”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he appeared at your side again, the bed bending beneath his weight, and he held a glass to your lips. “Drink,” he murmured. His hand slid behind your head to help you.

The strange taste bloomed across your tongue as you sipped – bitter, and warm, and tangy as it rolled down your throat. You wrapped your fingers over his hand and gulped the concoction down, whatever it was – it soothed an ache you hadn’t noticed. You pressed your knees against his side as you sat up, tilting the glass further towards your face, draining it of everything it had, even going so far as to lick the brim clean before you opened your eyes.

He was watching you. His thumb brushed the space behind your ear while his fingers trailed down your neck. You rolled your lips together as you tried to gather what remained of your drink. You watched him in return: how hadn’t you noticed how beautiful he was before? You could count the freckles across his nose and cheeks in the low light of the bedroom with how vibrant they were against his skin; his swept back hair held various shades of brown, and a scant few strands of silver – from the stress of crossing over from England, you figured, before he was turned, or maybe they’d gone grey during the run from Crowley shortly after; and then there were his eyes, which skipped across your face before holding yours.

The blood that ran through your body – the blood that wasn’t yours anymore – ran cold.

You dropped the glass.

Henry managed to catch it before it hit the wood floor, depositing it on the nightstand at your elbow.

You rubbed your throat as the missing memories returned, first in patches, then like a film playing behind your eyes: someone had broken into the house. You had been downstairs, labeling the few bottles of blood that Henry kept hidden in his fridge, frowning at the unfamiliar sounds of another human in the home. It hadn’t taken you long to react, either – your father had taught you well before he died, had made sure that you would be ready to live on your own when the time came.

You pulled a knife from the butcher’s block and stepped out of the kitchen.

Your view from the hall to the front door was unobscured. Behind you, however, was a puff of hot air as someone growled, “You’re really real, aren’t you?”

A door upstairs slammed open.

You stepped away and twisted around, lifting the knife between you and the intruder, filling the hall as best as you could. You had only seconds before Henry would be down the stairs, before the man, who stared at you with a crazed glint in his eye and held a wooden stake above his head, would be able to figure out who was really the vampire in the house and hurt him instead. Maybe even kill him.

He would kill Henry.

He couldn’t kill Henry.

You wouldn’t let him.

You remembered answering him with a breathless, “Yes,” before the stake splintered your ribcage and plunged down into your heart.

Thumbs rubbed circles over your cheeks. You blinked slowly as the memory fell into place, neatly outlining a time before you were asleep – dead, you supposed – and when you woke up.

Henry whispered your name. You finally met his gaze once again. He let out a deep, unnecessary and dramatic sigh as his forehead fell against yours. “You know that ‘I love you to death’ is only a saying, right?” he asked, “And that was a very dramatic way to say it.”

Your face flushed. “Who said that I loved you?” you squeaked.

“You did, when you went and took a man’s stake to the heart for me!” he shot back.

“Maybe I was just there and he wanted to kill us both,” you argued.

“Hm, and that’s why you said you were the vampire, is it? That you were real?” he asked.

You pressed your lips together.

His fingers trailed down your jaw and under your mouth, gently holding your chin. “There’s not a single way that I can think of that can match that, you know,” he sighed against your lips, “This will have to do.” He said a lot as he kissed you, making sure that you knew how much he loved you, that he’d loved you for an awfully long time, that it probably started when you first walked through his door, and you hoped that the kiss you gave in return said as much as your death did – that you loved him.

That you love him.

That you will always love him.

[plus-size-reader]

Surprise

Edward Cullen x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1432 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Spending the night with Edward, and having breakfast with his family in the morning

——————————————————————————————————

Having you over to the Cullen household sounded sacrilegious to Edward, a man who had yet to move past the social graces of the early twentieth century.

Still, when you showed up, drenched to the bone from the rain, he wasn’t going to turn you away. As soon as you entered the house, Edward knew about it.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since you and Edward met, he was fine tuned to you, in all senses and with you this close, it was only a matter of moments before you showed up.

He could hear your thoughts as you raced up the hill, holding your jacket over your head to shield from the rain. It wasn’t working out very well, from the sounds of it.

In any case though, Edward made his way down the stairs, reaching the first floor just in time to find Esme opening the door for you.

It must have been raining harder than he initially thought. You were soaked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not all together hostile, though it could have come across that to a stranger looking in. If anything though, he was only upset you wouldn’t have called him for a ride.

You didn’t even call before coming over here, and anything could have happened to you since leaving your house. Perhaps it was a bit of an overreaction but he couldn’t help it.

He knew what was out there.

You smiled at Esme in thanks as she took your wet jacket from your shoulders, before leaving to hang it up. Once she’d gone, you turned your attention to Edward, still standing there just as he’d been before.

“I wanted to come see if you wanted to catch a movie, but then my car broke down and I didn’t have cell reception up here so I had to walk” you shrugged, looking back on the last few hours of hell casually now.

From where you were standing, safely in the Cullen house, it was easy to just put it all behind you. Though, when you had been out there in the dense woods, all alone, you weren’t nearly as calm.

“Come on. You have to get changed, we can worry about your car in the morning” Edward urged then, not wanting to risk you catching something in those wet clothes.

...And you weren’t going to pass up that offer.

You took a hot shower, gave Edward your wet clothes to be dried, and then ended up just putting one of Emmett’s huge hoodies. It swallowed your frame in the most wonderful way, even at your size and it was beyond comfortable.

Something that you made sure to inform Edward of when you plopped down in his bed, disturbing the way it had been perfectly made.

He didn’t use it, but that didn’t mean it had to stay that way forever. After all, you had just walked several miles through the forest, and you weren’t going to stand all night.

The male stood there in the doorway for a moment, just surveying the sight of you laying there in his bed, and tried to keep himself calm.

To Edward, it felt like a breech of your privacy, or some affront to your honor and he didn’t want to overstep. Really, you wondered if he would have left entirely if you didn’t stop him.

“What’s wrong? Is it cause I messed up the bed? I’m sorry-” you started, only to have him stop you before you could get up. If he thought having you in the house was an offense, having you in his bedroom was something else entirely.

If he had a soul, perhaps it would have been damned for even thinking about you in the way he was. In any case though, he didn’t so there was nothing to worry about.

“It’s okay, you stay. Perhaps it would be better though if I slept in the guest room, as to not make you uncomfortable” he offered, pretty sure his heart would have burst if it hadn’t atrophied completely.

“You could stay here, if you wanted. I trust you Edward, and I swear I won’t tell the church” you grinned, making it obvious that you were teasing him.

All in good fun of course, but you weren’t going to make him do anything either. You knew well enough that he wouldn’t lay a hand on you before marriage, as he’d said before, but you were talking about cuddles.

Cuddling never damned anyone’s immortal soul, did it? He gave thought to it for a moment or two. Edward knew that no one in the house would care, and that Rose and Emmett frequently did much more in the confines of their own room.

Right now, the only person keeping him from crawling in beside you was him, and he didn’t have much of a reason for that.

It just felt wrong in every fiber of his being, and his mother was surely rolling in her grave. Even still, Edward couldn’t say that he was regretting his decision to lay down beside you.

He had just been brought up to feel like he should.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he clarifies, snuggling up to you almost immediately, though he sounded unsure. This, in and of itself, was innocent and he liked it.

It was the staying overnight with a girl in his room that he wasn’t sure about.

“I think so, are you alright with it? I could always bunk in with Alice if you want” you offered, knowing that if he wasn’t ready for something like this, that was perfectly fine too.

You knew that Edward loved you, and something like not wanting to sleep over together wasn’t going to change that. Besides, it became a lot more complicated with a vampire.

You sometimes had to remind yourself that Edward was raised in a completely different era, and did things differently still.

“It’s okay! It’s okay” he assured, his grip tightening around your shoulders to keep you from leaving his side. As strange as it was to be here with you, with the sun setting, he wasn’t going to let it go now.

You were stuck here until that same sun forced you both up out of bed, and you were fine with that.

~

The next morning, you woke up in cold sheets, only kept warm by your own body heat and you half expected to turn over to find the bed empty. Though, pleasantly, you found Edward still there, reading some novel he’d probably read ten times before.

“Fifteen, actually” he joked, shocking you momentarily before you realized he had been listening to your deepest thoughts. “Be careful, you never know what I could be thinking about” you teased, tucking your limbs fully into Emmett’s hoodie.

“I think I’ll take my chances. Now, come on, I’ve a surprise for you” he urged, not even bothering to give you a little bit of time to make yourself presentable.

Esme had come in this morning and asked if he wanted to do something nice for you, and of course, Edward had agreed. He always jumped at the opportunity to spoil you.

The smell hit you as soon as you exited Edward’s bedroom, the smell of bacon and pancakes on the griddle, filling you with a childlike glee. It made you so happy.

...But the food wasn’t the main reason for that.

What meant more to you than anything was the fact that all the Cullen’s would go out of their way to take care of you when they didn’t have to.

It was sweet.

“Wow, you guys must really want me to stick around” you grinned, knowing fully that it wasn’t going to show even a bit of your real gratitude.

It was a joke, something you’d said before in the presence of all the Cullen clan, but for some reason, it rang even more true this morning. It wasn’t a lie, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Really, they weren’t even sure if it was something you or Edward were aware of but the rest of the Cullen’s certainly were. You and Edward had a connection you just couldn’t hide, and they liked that. Even Rosalie had to comment on how much less moody he was since you’d gotten here.

For the first time in a really long time, he seemed genuinely happy and last night had only solidified that for them.

Edward would have never done something like that with someone he didn’t intend on spending the rest of eternity with.

[mctherofdragons]

In the Afterglow | 1 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy​.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: Angst, alcohol, cussing, mild sexual content

Author’s Note: I want to start off by thanking @oh-for-merlins-sake​ for being my sounding board for the past several days as I’ve prepared this fic! Also, to @sunflwrnarry​ for giving me an opinion on whether or not to go ahead with penning this. I cannot tell you how much this idea lives in my head ABSOLUTELY rent free. This might be my favorite fic I’ve written to date. PS: I have a taglist! Let me know if you’d like to be added for this story, all Weasley twins content, or for all Harry Potter content. Thanks loves!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

August 15th.

Summer mornings always felt particularly comforting. However, the mornings spent on a beach vacation felt especially wonderful. Heading out onto the balcony, you smiled contently, taking a sip of the coffee you had just brewed. George, your husband, was inside still asleep. The night before had been quite tiring as you’d spent all day on the beach before returning to your hotel to play board games and drink. It was the annual vacation you, your husband, and his brother took. It provided days worth of laughter and a much longed for break from the daily grind of work. Occasionally, Fred would bring a lady friend along, but not this year.

You worked for the Ministry of Magic, using your academic skills to contribute toward the greater good of Wizarding society. Meanwhile, your doting husband and his brother worked tirelessly in their joke shop. They actually fared quiet well, despite never completing their classes at Hogwarts. George was able to spoil you to absolute bits. Your wedding had been charming, complete with a send off of blue butterflies before you entered the reception. Everything about your marriage to George was a fairytale.

You watched the waves lapping against the shore. The smell of sea salt and wet sand tickled your nostrils. You pulled your tan cardigan closer around your torso, noting that it was still chilly in the morning, despite it being August. The silence gave you time to reflect on the beauty of the past two years. It felt as though barely any time had passed since you kissed George at the altar, vowing your forever to him. You had developed a calm and comforting rhythm to your life together. It consisted of cozy mornings with your cold feet touching beneath blankets. Your nights would end with dinner together and then finding some sort of movie to watch. You never felt thrilled anymore, but in a way, that’s what you had always dreamed of.

Settling down comfortably in the deck chair, you opened up the novel you’d been reading. Just then, the deck door slid open and your husband walked out. His red hair was messy from sleep and his voice was still raspy, not yet fully adjusted to the morning. He bent to kiss you softly on the head.

“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” he smiled, moving to lean against the balcony railing. He crossed his legs and took a sip from his coffee mug. His nickname for you always made you smile. You adored it, because you were still head over heels about the idea of being his wife. George was safe and strong. He loved you in the ways other men had failed to. His adoration was clear through bouquets of flowers that would show up on your work desk, lavish birthday presents, and the sweet nothings he whispered to you in bed. George was never pushy. He never spoke out of turn. In fact, you couldn’t even recall a time he had raised his voice at you. George was - as a husband - predictable.

“Mr. Weasley,” you chirped back, turning to the next page of your book. You two sat in silence for a while. George watched the waves crash into the shore, thinking to himself that this was bliss. Even if he wasn’t at the beach, he reasoned, it would be paradise because he was with you.

The sliding glass door opened again and Fred appeared. “Mornin!,” he announced, stretching.

Fred was quite the opposite of George in a number of ways. You knew of Fred’s romantic escapades, which often ended in him bedding girls in his flat. He sometimes had a short temper and still lived on the high of getting into bits of trouble - even as a grown man. His spirit was more untamed. Where George craved peace, Fred strived for adventure. You would be lying if you hadn’t sometimes thought about what Fred would be like as a lover. But then the guilt would hit you. He was your brother-in-law, for Merlin’s sake.

“How do you have this much energy in the morning?,” George chuckled, watching as Fred sat down in the other armchair.

“I just like the beach,” he shrugged, looking over at you. Placing your book onto your lap, you glanced over at Fred. His brown eyes twinkled back at you affectionately. You and Fred had always been close, even before you started dating George. It was Fred that you had befriended first at Hogwarts. But of course, where one Weasley was, there was the other. Fred was thrilled when you began to date George. He thought you were - as he put it - ‘a total fucking catch, George’. Fred had even helped George pick out your engagement ring. He was over the moon to have you as a permanent part of his life - for you to finally and officially be a Weasley.

You looked out at the beach, eager to get some sun and finish your book.

“Then, let’s go.”

_______________________________

George had made the choice to stay at the beach house, wanting to hit the golf course. He had begged Fred to join him, but his twin was craving some time in the sun and surf, so he declined. George grumbled a bit as he packed up his golf bag. He tried until the very last minute to get Fred to come play at least a round but it was to no avail.

You were lying on your back, trying your hardest to catch some color. The normally dreary days at home wouldn’t provide the tan you wanted. Fred was walking back up to your umbrella. He had gone down into the water for a while. You realized then that you probably should reapply your sunscreen, but couldn’t reach yourself.

“Hey, Freddie, can you get my back?” You had thought nothing of it. Fred had obliged, picking up the tiny bottle next to you.

Fred knelt down in the sand, sitting back onto his heels to keep from tipping other. He squirted a bit of the sunscreen into his palm, rubbing it together quickly to warm it up. You had to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep from gasping as you felt his calloused hands hit your bare back. He was being painfully slow, moving to massage the sunblock into your shoulders. The man��s concentration seemed to have drifted from assuring you didn’t get burnt to making you feel good. Fred kneaded a bit and that time you couldn’t resist, letting a tiny gasp escape your lips. It was painfully obvious that you had been wound up tight due to work and it felt incredible to feel your muscles loosen up.

Fred’s fingers danced beneath the strap of your bathing suit and you felt your heart rate quicken. He took a moment to run his finger across the thin, damp strap. You swore you heard his breath stop for a moment. You shook it off, assuring yourself it was you who was making this into something it wasn’t. Just then, he slid his hands down to the center of your spine before getting dangerously close to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. Neither of you were speaking, and for some reason, you felt a familiar feeling between your thighs. Shit, shit, shit, you thought. Thankfully your head was laying in your arms, face down, or else Fred would no doubt see you blushing.

“Okay that’s good, Fred, thanks,” you said quickly, moving so his hands were no longer on you. You couldn’t tell if the sun had reached its brightest point or if you were sweating because of your brother-in-law. But either way, you rolled back over to stand up, leaving Fred confused as you headed out toward the water to distract yourself.

•·················•·················•  •·················•·················•

October 31st.

George was standing up front at the cash register of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, counting the nightly deposit. Halloween was always a particularly busy day as both old and young wizards alike grabbed their last minute bits of mischief.

You were sitting in the back room, giving Fred your opinion on his Halloween costume.  Each year, the Weasley twins put on the best Halloween party, complete with costumes, outlandish decorations, and overflowing fire whiskey and butterbeer. Getting an invite to the Weasley Halloween Bash was something highly sought after. Therefore, the twins always made sure their costumes were up to snuff. Fred was close to you, showing off his ensemble for that night. A black velvet cape was draped over his shoulders, complete with a white button up shirt and black pants.

“What is it you’re supposed to be?” You cackled, adjusting the middle button on his shirt, which he had overlooked. Fred swallowed hard as your hands touched his abdomen. You noticed how as you laughed, your eyes locked on one another. You diverted your eyes quickly, cursing the butterflies that were some reason threatening to burst in your belly. The redhead stepped back a little, doing a little twirl so that his cape swooshed.

“A vampire!,” he sounded exasperated, using his hands to gesture to himself. You cocked your head to the side, figuring he just didn’t have the makeup or fangs on yet. It was decided in your mind that once that was all done, the costume would look much better.

“It looks great, Freddie,” you finally conceded and he grinned.

“I’m going to vuck your vlood,” Fred joked, wiggling his fingers as he leapt closer to you. You shrieked, jumping back as he attempted to begin tickling you. Once you had both stopped giggling, Fred began to speak again.

“What are you and George going as?”

“Pirates,” you said excitedly, clapping your hands together. Fred rolled his eyes.

“I know you picked that out.” “I always pick. George is horrible at decision making, and if I’m being honest, his ideas are sometimes quite stupid.”

The bells on the back door jingled as George entered. “Oy, we getter get going if we want to set up for tonight,” he said to you, coming over to wrap his arms around your waist. A smile graced your lips as he planted a loving kiss on your cheek. He smelled like warm cinnamon - the perfect addition to fall.

_______________________ 

 You descended down the stairs, your heels clicking with each step. Fred was at the bottom of the stairs, busying himself with filling a tray up with some sort of side dish. He heard you coming and turned, his jaw going slack.

You were wearing black fishnets complete with thigh high leather boots. Your dress was candy apple red with a tight black corset. It left little to the imagination as it showed off the perfect teasing amount of cleavage and sat just below your bum. The look was complete by a black pirate’s hat and flawless makeup, which you were certain to spend at least an hour on. You had taken the time to curl your h/c hair as well, which lay perfectly on your shoulders.

“Aye, aye, captain,” George gawked, coming around the corner. His costume was a little less detailed, but none the less fitting to match yours. You giggled as he swept you up in his arms, giving you a few kisses on your face. “Please make me walk to plank tonight,” he whispered in your ear, giving your lobe a little nibble. You giggled, pushing him off a bit. “Now, now, sailor. We have company,” you gestured to Fred, who appeared to be blushing redder than your dress. You ignored it, pushing back any thoughts that began to stir in your mind. You had hoped, somewhere deep down inside of you, that Fred was just as taken by your look as George was.

Fred had doctored up his costume quite a bit, adding eyeliner smudged around his eyes, a bit of face powder, and some fake blood below his lip. He had gelled his hair to look more Victorian, too, which gave the perfect finishing touch. “You look awesome, Fred,” you remarked, giving him a pat on this shoulder. You began to help finish the snack table. The tension could be cut with a knife, you noted. There was something different between you and Fred ever since the beach. A lust hung in the air whenever you two were in close proximity. It was enough to strangle you, and the worst part was, you were convinced it was all in your head. It was bloody wrong, too, you had told yourself.

_________________________

 The night went off without a hitch. Ron and Hermione had shown up, dressed adorably as a cop and a robber. Ginny and Harry had come, too, of course, wearing their most ghoulish ghost bride and groom attire. Even Draco Malfoy and his wife Astoria made an appearance. Dozens of other witches and wizards had passed through the night, sharing in the imbibing and laughter of the evening. By midnight, the party had thinned out. For those in attendance with children, trick or treating was over now, which meant it was time to return home.

You had had quite a few shots of fire whisky, which had now left you sleepily sitting on the couch. George had gone up to bed due to the fact that the shop would still be open in the morning and it was his turn for the morning shift. You yawned, stretching out to lie down. Fred was still over and he sat down, pulling your boots to sit on his lap. This closeness normally would be nothing but platonic, but tonight the tension began to rise again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you suddenly felt a wicked dizziness in your head. Your heart felt like it had risen into the bottom of your throat when Fred began to talk.

“You know, y/n, I’ve always thought you were very, very....gorgeous. Even when those stupid, snotty Slytherins would pick on you in school. Too beautiful for me, but perfect for George,” Fred was mindlessly watching a horror movie you’d put on the television. His words were slurred. “And tonight, I mean talk about a smoke show.”

“Thanks, Freddie,” you smiled, thankful for the compliment.

“Do you ever wonder...what if it would have been us?”

The question caught you off guard and you sighed a little, looking up at the ceiling. “Sometimes,” you had never admitted it out loud. But it was often that you did wonder - what if you had fallen in love with Fred instead of George?

“My feet hurt,” you allowed the words to tumble from your mouth. You were never one for a filter when drinking, either. It was just one more thing you and Fred had in common.

“Lemme help,” Fred whispered, reaching over to unzip your leather shoes from the top of your thigh to the ankle. He pulled each of them off, and then looked up at you. He placed on hand at your ankle and ran his hand up to your thigh, feeling the fabric of your fishnet stockings. Again, he ran his hand down your leg. He cleared his throat, clearing coming unglued by the feeling of your smooth legs and the course, patterned fabric of your fishnets dancing beneath his hand. Instinctively, you allowed your legs to open, tempting Fred to move his hand up further. But just as he moved his hand toward the inner part of your thigh, you swung your legs around and sat up.

You bent over quickly, grabbing your shoes and standing up. “You should go, Fred,” your throat felt dry. Nothing happened, you told yourself. You’re overreacting. He was just helping you take your boots off.

“Right, it’s late,” Fred said awkwardly, standing up and grabbing his keys off the coffee table. He didn’t drive, luckily, because it was apparent the he had also had a few too many beers.

[To Be Continued.]

[throwaninkpot]

Notes from the Return of the Thief launch party Q&A with MWT!

• (I meant to keep a Not Telling tally but I got distracted by all the good words Megan put together.)

EDIT: A VOD of the stream has been posted here!

• It took 20 minutes into the event to get the first Not Telling, and everyone was astonished it wasn't sooner.

• She referenced the Not Telling shirt made for her by @queensandkingsofattolia ! She wasn't wearing it, but she did have her Not Telling socks, which she would put on her hands and hold up to the camera.

• She talked about how she doesn't like suspense as a reader. She always wants the stories to get to the point instead of dragging on, so in writing, she puts light scenes in to break up the suspense. She doesn't always know what those scenes will be, she just has a feel for what's needed there. One example is when Sophos and the magus are traveling to Attolia in aCoK, when they eat the chicken. "We eat the chicken now!" was a scene that made her happy while she wrote it.

• She was asked to explain the gods and how the different pantheons work with each other, and said she never wants to explain the gods. She doesn't want them to be cut-and-dry or understandable.

• Asked about writing such complex, ruthless characters and making them likeable.

Alex (mod): Do you think [the POV characters] good? Megan: *silently presents Not Telling socks*

• Said that if you're going to spend so much time in a characters head, there has to be some part of them that you and the readers will like. And there are some people whose heads she didn't want to be in. Even the ruthless ones making terrible decisions, she does like. "Nahuseresh? Not so much."

Alex: *says something about how they've never encountered books with more poker face than QT* Megan: *big ol' grin*

• Talking about how these books have so many layers and so much suspense, Megan said a lot of that is owing to the fact it's a series and she needed to be consistent, she couldn't switch the style of it or tone halfway through. When she writes the next thing, it might be a whole different kind of book. She'll have to see whether that was just sonething distinctive to QT, or that's what she naturally gravitates towards writing.

• She mentioned that she isn't fond of 1st person narrative, and the chat collective raised a single eyebrows at the irony.

• In fact, TaT was written in 3rd person at first. But she realized that wasn't working so she scrapped that and rewrote the whole thing, bc it needed to be Kamet who was telling us the story.

• She pronounced Kamet as "Kam-et".

• When talking about the details in her books and how they go into logistics, she brought a book onto camera called Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army by Donald W. Engles. It heavily influenced the way she wrote about war and the politics thereof in QT.

• The Thief was partly inspire by a conversation she had with a young relative back during the Bush administration when Kuwait was invaded. The young relative didn't understand what the U.S. was doing in the middle east when we had so many problems to focus in our own country, and Megan explained that we weren't involved in that conflict out of the goodness of our hearts, but bc they had resources we wanted. (The way she phrased it, you could hear the magus talking to the boys in The Thief, and it gave me shivers.) And she realized, kids don't see that side of war in stories. Armies are always fighting Sauron and the forces of evil, and acting out if their own self-interests against people who might not be all bad.

• And thus, The Queen's Thief spiraled jnto existence.

• Why does she choose to write about disability and illness the way she does? Rosemary Sutcliff. Sutcliff was disabled for most of her life, and this reflected in the stories she told. Megan recalls Warrior Scarlet as the first book that challenged her as a kid to think about disability and illness as a natural part of life, and to question who gets to be at the center of the story. Who gets to be the hero? Who gets to be the hero of an adventure story? Why shouldn't characters dealing with illness or disability be those heros?

• TaT was a direct response to Sutcliff's novel Eagle of the Ninth, where an earnest young Roman soldier has these great plans for his life that get toppled when he is injured in his first battle and can no longer serve.

Megan: Costis checks every box for earnest young guy!

• In Eagle, there is a slave who travels with the protagonist and is freed by him at the end as part of the protagonist's journey. It was important to tell TaT from Kamet's point of view so that it was about him. "He is never an object of a quest, always a person."

• Megan has never read The Aeneid.

• She recommends Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin, which tells The Aeneid from a different POV.

• On writing process: She doesn't outline. When she has a book idea, she first tells it as a story by cornering her husband and telling him the whole thing with plenty of hand gestures. After that, she does a "sketch". She writes down the shape of the story, plotlines and characters, which is usually half the length of the finished book. Then she fleshes it out, and cuts and adds and cuts snd adds until she has pretty much a whole book, and then she edits again to cut everything that doesn't absolutely need to be there.

• She says it's important to remember you can't fix everything in one draft. You just need to focus on 20 or so things at a time, and then on the next pass you can focus on 20 other things.

• On keeping characters straight: "It's very crowded in my head." She doesn't focus so much on remembering exactly what she has written about a character before, but knowing who the character is so that she knows how they would react in whatever new situation she is writing them in.

Megan: Okay, Costis. I know this guy, I know what he's going to do. He's going to punch that guy in the face and it will be very embarrassing.

• A lot of people asked about the vampires referenced in The Thief and if they were real. She's not telling.

• Someone *cough*me*cough* Asked if she was planning a spin-off series about Eddisian vampires falling in love. "Never say never, but it's probably unlikely."

Alex: What happened to Ornon's sheep? Megan: Guys....guys......I have to put on another sock, come on, guys! *digs for her Not Telling socks and holds them up*

• On worldbuilding: You have to break with reality. It's great to research the process of how to retin pans! Adding details like that can enrich your story, but you can also add things that wouldn't have been possible in the real world. Like, pocket watches and window glass and printing presses all at the same time. The made up details also make your story richer.

Megan: Cut the research and tell a good story!

• On myths: She never writes the myths first. When she was writing The Thief, she would make a new line and type "[Myth Here]" and then go on with the rest of the story and cone back to that later.

• She recommends Ancient Near East Texts by James B. Pritchard for some good myths!

• What she likes best about DWJ: The Audacity(tm). DWJ would write about the most bizarre things very casually.

Megan: Her stories had a "hold my beer" quality.

• She told the story about hiw DWJ got her published (Alex: "She had good taste") and trying to send DWJ the advanced copy of aCoK before she died, but those stories have been retold elsewhere before so I won't bother with them now.

• Megan wore lovely, lovely earrings! And at the beseechment of the chat, she showed them to the camera and told us they were made by @freenarnian

• Finally, the winner of the trivia party was granted the honor of asking a question on camera, and Megan benevolently said she would not cry Not Telling on whatever was asked.

• Margaux, the winner, asked what the age difference was between Dite and Irene, and if they had grown up together.

• After a REAL long pause, Megan said that she didn't think they had grown up together. Irene is younger than Dite, and she was too busy, and I quote, "killing people." Her childhood ended early and she didn't have time to be a kid. Besides that, they wouldn't have been allowed to hang out in Attolian society, bc she was a girl and he was a boy. They were probably introduced to each other atvevents, but that was it.

• Also: Dite is pronounced "Die-tee".

• She has more events like this planned in the future!!!!! Keep an eye on her tumblr!!!!!

• EDIT: @whataliethatwas made a transcript of the event!

[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.

[walkwithheroes84]

Immortals After Dark (Half Way) Series Thoughts And Couples Ranked

I started reading the Immortals After Dark series by Kresley Cole on February 5th, 2021. In the last twelve days, I've read roughly half the series. And, believe me, I was crushed to find out that the last book was released in 2017. The fandom is dead and the author - whether due to publisher issues, health issues, or a mixture of both - hasn’t been active on any social media platforms since 2019. 

I have some mixed feelings on the series, but since I have no one to share them with, I’ve decided to put them here. I chose to read this series because I liked the idea of it: immortal beings, preparing for a major “battle”, all while dealing with last-minute villains and finding their true soulmates. Yeah, I’ll read that. So, what have I liked about the series?

Let’s start with the fact that it is very clear that Kresley Cole had a major game plan in mind. Hints of future books, hints of storylines, and future important characters are introduced in every book. Since most of the novels take place around (or even at the same time) readers are often given several perspectives of the same events. Someone who seemed like a no-so-great person in one novel is shown to be a better person two novels later - because we  now know their backstory and what makes them tick. A character might offhandedly mention something in a novel (example: Garreth mentioning Lucia is his destined mate in book one) and it comes full circle in another novel - we get to see that story play out. 

Even if your favorite character plays a minor or side role in one novel, there is a great chance they will be a main character at some point in the series. And, as someone who often loves the side characters more than the main characters, that was a nice surprise for me.

It’s also fairly clear that Cole took some time in developing the different (major) groups within the Lore: who they are, what they can do, who they are friendly with, etc. That was a nice detail that I liked, especially as it didn’t really change in the novels I’ve read. And to be honest, in such a long series, it would be very easy for an author to forget smaller details. But, I don’t think Cole has - yet. 

There were some things I didn’t like, of course. Having read books 1-7 and then 9-10 (I don’t have access to book 8 yet) in the span of twelve days - it is so painfully clear that Cole has a formula she likes to work with. 

Most of her novels play out the same way: ML and FL meet. An attraction forms, with the ML realizing that the FL is his destined mate/Bride/whatever. They fight, he chases her, they fight some more, there is a bit of sex, there is a misunderstanding, he’s possessive, they fight and have sex, there is something terrible looming in the background that gets quickly taken care of in the last 50 or so pages, they fight again, they makeup and then they ride off into the sunset until they have a few cameos in other couples’ novels. It’s painfully predictable at times, and in truth it works well with some couples and not so well with others. So, I do like when Cole changes things a bit. (See book ten, Dreams of a Dark Warrior, for example.)

I also have to fully admit that some of the Alpha males, who were so possessive, running around calling women “Mine,” while being borderline abusive or/and manipulative at times turned me off.  That kind of guy is just not my cup of tea. So, I’m sad to say I have not (as of yet) been a huge fan of the Lykae and the way they tend to treat their fated mates. 

That said, I’d like to go over each couple and rank them. 

09. Emma Troy and Lachlain MacRieve from A Hunger Like No Other (Book 1): I almost stopped reading because of this couple. I understand that he was tortured and hurt by vampires for years, but he was so awful toward Emma when he thought she was a full blooded vampire! He demanded she touch him in exchange for a phone call! It was so clear that she was scared, and because of his own trauma, he did nothing to calm her. Not a fan. 

08. Sabine, Sorceress of Illusions and Rydstrom Woede from Kiss of a Demon King (Book 6): While I liked them as characters, their relationship just felt very toxic to me. At times I was even uncomfortable with the way they treated one another. From reviews I can tell that a lot of people like them, so I may go back to this novel once I have finished the series. 

07. Holly the Bright and Cadeon Woede from Dark Desires After Dark (Book 5): Cadeon was fine. Holly was fine. But - he was going to sell her out! I can’t get behind that. In the end, they did win me over, but I just felt (at times) that Holly could be a bit boring and that Cadeon’s betrayal (while somewhat understandable) was too much. 

06: Mariketa the Awaited and Bowen MacRieve from Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Book 3): Mari was stronger than Emma in dealing with her Lykae and because Bowen thought his feelings were a spell he wasn’t as possessive with Mari as Lachlian had been with Emma. Mari and Bowen had a bit of humor in their relationship, a bit of teasing and they were just...fun. I enjoyed their interactions before and after they were together. Do I think Mari forgave him way too easily? Yes. Do I  think their issues were solved too easily? Yes. But, my goodness, I still enjoyed them. 

05. Kaderin the Cold/Kind Hearted and Sebastian Wroth from No Rest for the Wicked (Book 2): This is a weird one, because I can’t really tell you why they made my top 5, but they did. I liked Sebastain and the way he just wanted to make Kaderin happy. I loved that Kaderin was not the damsel in distress that some of the other heroines had been throughout the series. In fact, I would dare say that it was Kaderin who was leading the romance instead of Sebastian, which was a nice change of pace in this series. 

04:  Daniela the Ice Maiden and Murdoch Wroth from Untouched (Book 7): I really loved the setup here: when Murdoch had been alive, he had been a, well, he slept with a lot of women. Dani is a virgin at 2000 years old. Why? Because she is half Icere Fey, which means when anyone touches her skin they freeze and she burns. Dani also happens to be Murdoch’s Bride, which means after 300 years of no sex (or interest in sex) Murodch suddenly wants to have sex - with Dani - who can’t. They have a lot of back and forth, push and pull. They find some very creative ways to be together without actually touching. And, for some weird reason I really enjoyed them. They weren’t the typical story in this series and I liked that.

03: Carrow Graie and Malkom Slaine from Demon From the Dark (Book 9): Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. That’s what seems to come to mind for a lot of people who read this one. Malkom is a seriously traumatized demon/vampire, who knows nothing of the world and is somehow really sweet toward Carrow. Carrow is a witch, who's seen it all and done a lot of it. She’s using him to save her adopted daughter, but Carrow falls for Malkom. And it’s a weirdly sweet and cute story. 

02:Néomi Laress and Conrad Wroth from Dark Needs at Night’s Edge (Book 4): A ghost and a vampire. Who knew I’d love them so much. It’s even better, because she’s his Bride, but she’s dead...so they can’t get physical. Instead they talk and get to know one another. She was a woman of the world, and he’s a half-crazed vampire bounty hunter, who was once a virginal vampire bounty hunter. She flirts and teases and he is angsty. They are basically perfect. 

01:Regin the Radiant and Declan Chase (Aidan the Fierce) from Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Book 10): Chef’s kiss. Regin does not take crap from Declan and he actually has to work to win back her trust. Declan is a mess, but it’s not used as an excuse for his misdeeds. Yes, he has had a traumatic past and he has been brainwashed, but his actions are not excused by Regin - especially when he goes back on his word. Declan has to fight for Regin, just as much as she has to fit for him. I loved them. 

I have book 8 on the way, I already have books 11, 13-15, and book 18. I’ll be buying books 12, 16, and 17 soon-ish. While the series has some flaws, I do like it overall. The books are really quick reads for me and overall I like the overarching story and a lot of the characters. I’m rather disappointed that nothing new has come out in four years and that Cole has fallen off the grid. I know she had books 18 and 19 planned, and reportedly book 18 is finished. I hope it is able to be published someday.

[songofsoma]

Watch of the Faithful

31 days of wayhaven // day 9: fight

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: ava du mortain x cecilia beck words: 2,733 rating: general

part 1 // part 2

read on ao3

“She’s lucky to even be alive.”

The words rocked Ava to her core when Elidor spoke.

Hands flew out to grip anything to keep her grounded. The edge of a side table was the unfortunate victim to her white-knuckle grip. She could see the fae’s lips move as he continued to speak with Agent Beck and the rest of the unit, but all Ava could hear was the blood rushing in her ears.

“…internal bleeding from cracked ribs and head trauma from the impact against the wall. I’ve given her something to put her into a temporary coma to allow her body to heal.” 

Elidor hesitates for a moment before continuing. “If the demon infesting her hadn’t been keeping her body going, she would’ve died” His voice seemed pained at the thought.

Ava came crashing back to reality and slowly turned to face Morgan who was already backing away.

She held her hands up defensively, her face twisted into a scowl. “She was trying to kill us.”

“Did you have to hit her so hard, Morgan?” It was Farah who snapped, golden eyes still glossy from tears. “Didn’t you hear what he just said, you almost killed my best friend!”

Morgan flinched, her stony gaze faltering. “Listen, it’s not my fault demon Cece was a bitch.”

A snarl ripped from Ava’s lips as she stalked forward.

There was no stopping her. She was a freight train compared to the others, even Nat would’ve been useless at halting her.

Large hands gripped Morgan’s upper arms, slamming her back against the wall. She could practically feel the others flinch from the cracking sound of the wall.

“You have made it clear you do not care for Cecilia plenty of times. But this is unacceptable.” She was in her face. The fierceness of Ava’s attitude was enough to catch the other vampire off-guard. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She snapped, pulling herself together.

“You almost took her away from us, from me. I swear to you, Morgan, I would have never forgiven you if she had died.” Her voice cracked at the thought of the detective’s death. 

Morgan’s eyes were wide as Ava dropped her back to her feet. She turned away, unable to look at her any longer. A trembling hand ran across her forehead in attempts to soothe the anxieties bubbling inside her.

The room had fallen silent in the meantime, shock reverberating around the room.

“Ava?” A comforting touch fell on to her shoulder. She doesn’t even have to look to know it came from Nat.

“What it is?” She asked, a heavy sigh accompanying the question. She was tired, so tired, and was ready to be left alone.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I think Rebecca should have some time alone with Cece.”

She was right. Nat was always right.

Ava looked over her shoulder to observe the agent slumped against the wall. Her head was bowed, her sleek bob had been traded in for an unkempt mess of brunette waves that hid the sharp features of her face. Even if she had been told Cecilia had resembled Rook more—soft, rounded features, kind eyes, a dazzling smile that could charm anyone to their knees—Ava was still taken aback by the parallels between the two women.

She turned her attention to Nat. “I will in a few minutes.”

Catching the hint, she nodded, squeezing her shoulder before she left. Morgan had ducked out seconds after Ava had let her go, Farah following quickly to presumably give her a piece of her mind too, and Elidor had other patients that required his attention.

It left just Ava and Rebecca.

After a long moment of silence, Ava moved to stand in front of her superior, unsure of what to say.

“How could I not have realized sooner?” Rebecca finally muttered.

She pursed her lips. “None of us did.”

“You did.” Dark and tortured eyes met hers. “You knew.”

Ava said nothing. She only looked away with a furrowed brow.

“What kind of mother does not know when her own daughter is acting differently?” Her words were strangled from the fresh tears staining the russet skin of her face. “I swore to her I would make up for all those years I wasn’t there for her properly.” She shook her head, a humorless laugh following. “She said there was nothing to forgive me for, that she understood. You should’ve seen the way her eyes lit up when I asked her if she wanted to have lunch with me. I have never seen someone get so excited over lunch.”

She gave a knowing smile. “That sounds like her, yes.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I can’t keep failing her. Even with a heart as big as hers, I’m going to run out of chances. I’m going to lose my baby just like I did her father.”

Ava swallowed hard as she tried to choose her words carefully. There wasn’t a chance to respond.

Arms wrapped around her tightly as Rebecca’s cold professionalism cracked completely. This wasn’t Agent Beck, it was a tired and broken woman who was on the brink of losing it all.

She returned the gesture hesitantly. Rebecca was on the shorter side, not as small as Cecilia, but still at least four or five inches shorter than herself. 

“Thank you for taking care of her, Ava,” she whispered. “Please, please, be good to her.”

Ava felt her chest tighten. 

She wanted to say that she wished she could do better by her or that the girl deserved better, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it aloud. The internal fight of her selfish need for Cecilia and the desperation for her to have what she truly deserved was a war fought by tireless soldiers.

“Always.” That was what she finally settled on, ignoring the lump forming in her throat when she spoke. 

But it was true. So long as Cecilia would have her, Ava would be there.

***

For the next week, Ava spent the majority of her time in the tiny hospital room Cecilia had been set up in.

She sat beside the bed, watching over her every second she could until Elidor ushered her out of the room so he and the other staff could care for her. It was a daily occurrence, and still, Ava was disgruntled every time she was evicted.

Sometimes, Nat came and sat with her. She brought a few of Cecilia’s favorite novels to read aloud. “I read that it helps,” she had said to the curious gaze she was given.

Ava appreciated the company. It was lonely without the detective’s lively chatter.

Farah and Agent Beck frequented the room as well. From what Ava could tell, Farah and Morgan were still not on speaking terms. To be fair, she and Ava hadn’t spoken since either, but that was partly to Morgan avoiding the leader like she was a reckoning. She supposed she was in a way. 

When the fact was brought up, Nat predicted—quite tiredly—that everything would smooth over once Cecilia woke up. She also found out Morgan had popped in the few times Ava wasn’t there. 

But still, none of them were Cecilia.

It had been a week since she had seen those pretty brown eyes or witnessed rosy lips curl into a smile that never failed to weaken her knees. She wanted the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips. Ava was starving for her.

Her mind had been running in circles since that night as she thought of all the ways she could have stopped it. The ways she could have saved her. But right now, all she wanted was for Cecilia to recover.

Elidor had given the notice that they would be waking her up today.

“It might take some time. She’ll wake up on her own.” He gave a sympathetic smile to the little group who had gathered, feeling the mood deflate in the room.

So once more, Ava stood guard over the sleeping figure of her lover. She acted as an impenetrable wall between Cecilia and the dangers of the outside world.

She had been lost in thought when Cecilia first awoke.

Ava hadn’t noticed the way her eyelashes fluttered or the way her toes and fingers curled as her body slowly began to wake up.

What caught her attention was the soft sigh as her eyelids finally slid open, groggy gaze searching the room, confusion written all over her face.

Ava took a bandaged hand between her own. “You’re awake,” she said dumbly.

Cecilia attempted to sit up. Ava hadn’t been quick enough to stop her before a cry of pain left her lips and she fell back against the bed, breathing ragged.

“Mea vita, you need to rest.” Her lips brushed over the rough bandages covering her knuckles. Cecilia’s grip tightened pathetically on her fingers.

“Ava—” she croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Letting go of her hand, Ava stood to fetch her a glass of water to help soothe the dryness of her throat.

She helped the cup to dry, cracked lips, her other hand cradling the back of Cecilia’s head tenderly. She made a note to bring her the lip balm she favored later, feeling guilty for not doing so before.

After settling her back down gently, she pulled her chair closer to the bed. 

She smoothed down dark wisps of hair that were unruly from sleep. Purplish bruises were scattered over her face, deep shadows hanging under her eyes. A thick white bandage was wrapped around her forehead to cover the stitches she had received from her head wound. She was so beautiful even now, injured and under the fluorescent hospital lighting. It was one of her many talents.

Deep brown eyes shone with sudden tears. “Ava, I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love.” A soothing hand caressed her cheek, being careful of the discolored skin.

“What I did,” she shook her head, shifting so Ava’s hand was forced to fall away, “that is unforgivable. What I did to you and the others. Oh god, to Morgan.” She slumped further down, hiding her guilt as she wept.

“Cecilia, please,” Ava’s words were soft as she gently pulled her hands away to reveal her face once more. “It is not your fault. All that matters is the fact that you are okay.”

Plump lips rolled together as she thought, silent tears still slipping over her cheeks. Without thinking, Ava wiped them away, her touch a whisper against her skin.

“Is Morgan alright? It’s all blurred together in my mind. All I can remember is that I hurt her.”

Ava snorted, leaning back in her chair. “She’s fine. She heals.”

She took a few seconds to study her. “You’re mad at her. Why?”

Blonde brows shot up in shock. “Do you not remember her throwing you against the wall?”

“Kind of hard to forget.” She winced at the memory. “But I did deserve it.”

Ava stood up, beginning to pace the small length of the room. “Cecilia, she almost killed you.” It was becoming harder to stay calm.

“But she didn’t—”

“She could have!”

Cecilia’s lips hung open, unable to think of a response.

Ava’s chest was heaving and her fists were clenched. Her gaze was beginning to blur from tears. Not wanting Cecilia to witness the cracking of her stoic armor, she turned her head.

“Come here.”

She whipped around.

“Please,” Cecilia whispered, opening her arms.

Ava sat back on the previously abandoned chair, the top half of her slumping forward onto the bed. The comforting warmth of Cecilia’s embrace enveloped her even at the awkward angle she held her shoulders. Her forehead rested against her chest, her own arms sliding around her, being cautious not to jostle her. 

Cecilia grunted as she moved to press a soft kiss to the side of Ava’s head. She quickly settled back down before she could be scolded, opting to run her fingers through the tendrils of loose blonde hair that spilled on to the sheets.

“I will be fine,” she promised, the pad of her thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped her glacial gaze. “Besides, I have you looking after me. I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have such a hot nurse.”

A strained laugh left her as she sat up, enjoying the pleased grin on Cecilia’s lips. “I am sure Elidor will be overjoyed to hear such a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you, silly. I meant you. Elidor isn’t my type.”

“And I am?” Ava chuckled.

The air was sucked from her lungs when she noticed the shift in her gaze to full adoration. “You know you are,” Cecilia murmured, grabbing at the collar of her shirt to pull her closer, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

The door crashed open, accompanied by a loud squeal. 

“I told you I heard voices!” Farah cried out happily.

Ava turned, quite irritably at the ruining of the moment, to see the young agent with an arm full of colorful balloons and flowers skip into the room. She had Nat in tow who seemed to be in charge of transporting an oversized teddy bear, but she seemed more than happy to be a part of it. Morgan trailed in after them. She had a small pink stuffed dog in her hands and an unsure look in her eyes.

Farah shoved everything she was holding into Morgan’s arms before rushing over to hug Cecilia who let out a small oof. 

“Oh shit!” She jumped back. “I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m just so glad you’re okay,” she said sheepishly, glancing over at Ava.

“It’s alright, really,” she assured her, reaching out to take her hand gratefully.

Farah smiled.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Cecilia gestured to where Nat was helping Morgan set down the various gifts they had brought.

“We wanted to.” Nat’s warm smile accompanied her words as she greeted the girl with a gentle hug. “It’s the least we could do.”

Farah was bouncing on her heels excitedly, pushing a tight curl out of her face before Cecilia patted the edge of the bed for her to sit. She did without a second thought, already talking a mile a minute.

Ava settled back into her seat, finally feeling like she was able to breathe again. 

She watched the detective carefully. The joy was overpowering the lingering exhaustion in her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before Ava would have to chase everyone out so she could rest.

Cecilia’s eyes suddenly looked around the room, landing on Morgan lurking in the corner. “I thought I saw you come in,” she said happily, clearly taking the vampire by surprise.

She seemed uncomfortable as she slinked over to the side of the bed, stiffly holding out the stuffed animal she had brought. “I’m sorry for, uh, throwing you against a wall and almost killing you.”

Ava stiffened, but amusement played on Cecilia’s face.

Cecilia grinned. “I knew you liked me.” She grabbed Morgan’s wrist, tugging her into a semi-forced hug, one that she eventually gave in to.

They had been allowed to stay for a bit longer. Elidor had come in to check on her a few times as well. He seemed just as relieved to see her awake as the rest of them did. Eventually, the rest of the team had been shooed out to allow Cecilia to rest. Ava had only been permitted to stay because it was quite clear she had no intention of going anywhere.

Ava had taken Farah’s spot on the edge of the bed, gently brushing hair away from her face. 

“Do you think these beds are too small for you to lay with me?” Cecilia murmured with a quiet smile.

She chuckled. “These beds are barely large enough for me alone, carissima.”

“Guess I’ll just have to beg Elidor to let me move back to my room tomorrow.” She yawned, nuzzling into Ava’s hand on her cheek.

Her heart clenched as she watched her. She didn’t dare to move until she was sure Cecilia had fallen asleep. And when she did, the farthest Ava went was to her post in the chair so she could stand watch over her darling once again.        

[qiankunfics]

KunTen Masterlist Part 2

AO3

1.  Instead of a Rivalry, Can I Have a Romance? by lilyhearted

Summary: Actually, he wouldn’t have even known there was a rivalry in the first place if Hendery hadn’t found that stupid gossip article online. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

2.  gratuitous by fldx

Summary: Ten knows he looks as shameless as he feels. There's no hesitation in the way he spreads his legs further to show off his hole, teasing himself with a single finger. Rating: Explicit  Status: One-Shot

3. Caught Up Over You by easycomeeasygo

Summary: Yukhei laughs and elbows Kun, “He’s looking at our sweet darling Kun-ge like he wants to devour him.” Rating: Mature Status: One-shot

4.  our side of the mountain by andnowforyaya

Summary: Kun and Ten sneak away in the early hours of the morning, before the crew wakes, before the other boys wake, for some quality time together. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

5. We just need to talk it out by cherrycitrus_blossom

Summary: The last thing Ten wanted was to make Kun feel like he couldn't talk to him, but why didn't Ten notice this earlier? Why did it take one comment from Johnny for Ten to realise that this friendship took more than two steps back? Rating: General Status: One-Shot

6. Flickering by violetpeche

Summary: Brushing your teeth in candlelight is not romantic. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

7.  sirens in my head by thereisnoreality

Summary: Part of murdery martrimony collection Rating: Explicit / Mature Status: One-Shot Trigger: Literally murder mentioned/implied

8.  Apple of My Eye by Lertsek

Summary: Ten wears purple lipstick. Kun likes it. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

9. we are not what we once were by johnjaemark

Summary: Ten and Kun meet again at a party thrown by their record company. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

10. breakfast meal by 10vesick

Summary: Follow-up to the Twit-fic Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

11.  Lift me up by Luonnotar

Summary: Kun just wants to go home and forget about his insufferable colleague, but a technical mishap throws a wrench into his plans Rating: General Status: One-Shot

12. One brick at a time by ForMyBabies (BooksandKpop)

Summary: Ten and Kun get into a fight and Ten is petty so while Kun is at work he covers the whole bedroom floor with legos and waits for Kun to return. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

13. Here Because of the People by eggboyksoo

Summary: Dance teacher and aspiring choreographer Ten moonlights as a cashier at a local supermarket to pay his bills. Kun happens to do his weekly shop during Ten's Monday morning shift. Both carry more baggage than most realise. Rating: Teen Status: On-Going

14.  Pineapples by subbyyang

Summary: Ten reads a very interesting article on the advantages of pineapples. He decides to check the results for himself Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

15.  Extra Practice by subbyyang

Summary: Ten and Kun get the practice room for themselves and don't waste time. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

16. It was an accident, I swear! by princessgongjunim (MyOwnCharacterInEverything)

Summary: Ten sends a wrong text to Alpha Kun.  Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

17. we've got till noon, here comes the moon by taeyomi (buttercream)

Summary:  Ten remembers his voice saying it. He also remembers being held by him, how real everything felt. It’s true Ten’s never been in love before so he wouldn’t actually be able to compare, but he’s got an inkling Jackson’s formula wasn’t too far from it. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot 

18. baby, fuck me with your mic on by jxmxnbabe

Summary: Kun and Ten fuck while the mic is recording Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot 

19. happy hoelloween by violetpeche

Summary: Multi-shots Rating: Explcit Status: On-going

20. messages in blood on my bathroom mirror by jinnieshyun (angelsouls)

Summary: Ten finds blood on his bathroom mirror. It's surprisingly helpful. (And the guy is hot.) Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

21.  a collection of hearts by andnowforyaya

Summary: Who does this guy think he is, walking into Ten’s shop with the most adorable kid in the universe, with hair like that, a smile so blinding it could rival the light of the sun? There has to be a catch.  Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

22.  sugar frosted fruity us by moonwalker116 (mikararinna)

Summary: Ten really likes the sugary sweet frosted cereal flakes that they sell in order to fool children into eating breakfast. Kun wasn't so fond of the cereal. But just like many of Ten's quirks and bits, Kun accepted the fact that Ten really loved those cereals. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

23.  sous-vide this love by kwonjis

Summary: “i see you’ve met ten’s new beau, not a fan of his i’m assuming?” sicheng says dryly. kun huffs and turns away, grabbing a ladle from somewhere and stirring the pot behind him vigorously. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

24.  all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by drmroses

Summary:  Kun finds himself in an urgent predicament as he gets to know Ten Rating: Teen  Status: One-Shot

25.  Make The Stars Align by easycomeeasygo

Summary:  Kun runs around Beijing looking for the cute boy in the yellow sweater. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

26. fear is just a word (heaven just a place) by rowenabane

Summary: The man’s lips flicker upwards at the words, as if Kun has just told a very funny but tasteless joke. “I know.” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

27.  catching feelings by madhoney

Summary: “You’ve trained so much for this,” Kun said. “You don’t need anyone to take care of you. You don’t need me to take care of you.” Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

28. boy with a heart by andnowforyaya

Summary: “He won’t come out,” Guangheng says, taking his stew from Kun’s hands. “He says his stomach still hurts.” Rating: General Status: One-Shot 

29. bedtime routine by tostitos

Summary: it's just like ten to mess up kun's perfect bedtime routine of coffee and a easy-reading novel with his oral fixation. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

30. and now we are prey by lunarsoo

Summary: Serial Killer hunts down Agent Kun. Rating: Explicit / Mature Status: One-shot

31. and now we are prey by lunarsoo

Summary: The more Kun knows Ten, the more he realizes he doesn’t know much about him at all. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

32. love the way you're talking to me by 10vesick

Summary: Ten seemingly doesn’t understand what Kun is saying.  Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

33. you could be the king but watch the queen conquer by thereisnoreality

Summary: Part of murdery martrimony Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

34.  2054 by pinkwinwin

Summary: He was designed this way, after all. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

35. it’s been a long, long time. by RedamancyEffect

Summary: Kun couldn’t help but notice how Ten treated him differently since he presented. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

36. 何以歌 (a song with no name) by sayounarahitori

Summary: Kun writes music and waits for Ten. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

37. To The Prettiest Boy in School by Alette

Summary: *Main pairing is Xiaodery but KunTen is cute here too.  Rating: General Status: One-Shot

38. Are They Together or Not? by NovemberSuns

Summary: No one seems to know exactly what Kun and Ten’s relationship is. Yangyang is determined to find out. Rating: Teen  Status: One-shot

39. Coming Home by bInTheMoon

Summary:  Ten, a modern witch, finds himself in the past and get help of Qian Kun, the handsome vampire who is going to show him what home feels like. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

40. A Kiss in Your Body by akaashigf

Summary: Kun was managing his crush and relationship with Ten well until one day, he mysteriously woke up in his body. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

41. Is This Your Card? by Kill3rWhal3D1ck

Summary: Ten thinks Kun is pretty cool in his own weird way and wishes everyone would just let him live. Rating: Teen Status: Completed *Part of NCT WayV Hogwarts AU

42.  I'm Not Coming up for Air by zosma

Summary: When Ten can't pull the threads of privacy, of identity and control, away from the performance of his daily life, Kun helps him come down in the one place that's truly private-- the shower. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

43. What Happened at Yuta’s Party? by NovemberSuns

Summary: From Taeyong getting wasted and Doyoung crying about Jeno growing up to Kun and Ten staring at each other across the room, everyone has something to remember about this particular party. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot 

44. hold on, hold tight by rainingover

Summary: Except now he's got these intermittent stomach aches and he's started to feel guilty about every other thought he has. Mainly the ones about Ten. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

45. i am a lion, i am a queen by kuntenjohnil

Summary: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul turning into a female: Double the trouble. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

46. Cold Coffee by sunsetude

Summary: Kun’s exhausted, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

47. Missing You by starryeyed (kaylie153)

Summary: Ten doesn't get a lot of alone time anymore on tour with SuperM. So he takes the chances he can get to call his closest friend and confidante in private. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

48. togetherness by andnowforyaya

Summary: After six years, Ten still acted like Baba was the coolest thing since people landed on the moon. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

49. Kun's Out Of Body Sexting Experience by sayounarahitori

Summary: Ten won't stop sending Kun photos. It… escalates. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

50.  for real by 10vesick

Summary:Ten and Kun had been building this marriage way before either of them had even proposed. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

[punksarahreese]

Birth | Bloodletting

Nosdecember day 21 | @neworleansspecial

Occult!AU; a look into Ava’s rebirth into vampirism

CW: Pet/master dynamics, abuse mention, murder, blood/scars, gore

***

“Will you ever stop fussing over them?” Ava’s voice held no annoyance, instead she was just watching Sarah with soft eyes. The human had been tracing the scars on her shoulders for minutes, something she had developed a habit of since getting closer with the vampire. It had been six months since they met, long since Sarah became a frequent, almost daily visitor of the big house in the forest. Estia was attached to her, excited to learn about life growing up as a human, and Ava herself had become quite fond of the woman too.

She wasn’t sure how she grew to trust the human so quickly. Maybe it was because Estia had no qualms about her, Ava trusting her daughter’s insight more than anyone’s; she had been with her for almost 40 years by then of course. Maybe it was because April and the wolves loved her, the promise that she had made respectable friends within the forest so she couldn’t be a threat. Ava supposed it could have been Sarah herself. Her behaviour, the way she instantly wanted to nurture and help anyone who needed it. A doctor through and through, Ava could tell, she just wanted to make people feel better. She had told Ava about her past, as if she thought opening up about her own trauma would make the vampire trust her more. Maybe it did, but she was still worried about Sarah learning her truth.

“They’re like little stories,” the human answered like she always did, “They tell me what you can’t, like how this one was inflicted by a dull blade; probably an old knife.”

“Smart girl,” Ava hummed, leaning into her touch as her fingers danced across her collarbone. She hadn’t felt this warm in almost a century, the heat of her body long since sapped by immortality. She hadn’t had much physical contact since becoming a vampire, definitely not by anyone as alive as Sarah. She had been surprised that the scent of her blood wasn’t always at the forefront of her mind, like so many elders had told her it would be when around a human. Instead, Ava was distracted by the gentleness of her touch, the warmth transferring to her own icy skin, and the care she took to be as delicate as possible. No one had been this attentive or caring in decades; Ava wasn’t sure how to react.

They were in Ava’s study, which was more of a library than anything. The walls were bookcases upon bookcases, covered in novels and nonfiction in every language imaginable. Sarah had been so excited when she realized Ava had a whole section dedicated to medical books, which she had told Sarah she could read at any time. She had been reading that day, curled up on the couch near the fireplace with Ava by her side. She only ever lit the hearth when Sarah was there, since neither her nor Estia needed the heat in their cold home. She didn’t mind it though, especially since it meant Sarah would stay for a large chunk of the day if the study was warm. It was a quiet, comforting escape from her cottage with Natalie and Autumn always there and April or the wolves asking to stop by. She loved her friends, she did, but sometimes she needed quiet time and Ava understood that the most.

Like so many times before, Sarah had gotten distracted when Ava passed her another book, catching her scarred hand before she could pull away. She was so fascinated by the vampire’s history, though she still seemed apprehensive to speak about it, and she wanted to know everything. She had been a psychiatry resident before she had to quit her job after her mother’s murder, so Sarah knew that Ava was hiding something and it was eating her away inside. She wanted to help, wanted the other woman to feel safe enough to trust someone; to trust her.

Ava didn’t protest when Sarah focused on her scars, she knew she meant no harm. Sarah was curious, that’s all, and Ava’s scars were a part of her eternal body. She had long since made peace with most of them and she certainly wouldn't complain about the attention. She trusted the human, she really did, but she wasn’t too sure if she trusted herself.

“Ava?”

Another hum was her only reply, though she did smile at Sarah when she went to brush a loose curl off her shoulder. She didn’t miss the way the vampire immediately stiffened when her fingers brushed her carotid however, and she couldn’t hide her own flinch at that. Still, when Ava didn’t make a move to pull away, Sarah let her hand gently rest against the left side of her neck, warm palm resting against the biggest scar there.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?”

“I feel like that’s a question I should be asking you,” Ava mumbled and the other woman knew she was deflecting. Sarah had long since inferred that this wound was how she died, since the vampire seemed void of any actual turning mark, but she never was able to get the answers from her. She didn’t want to push Ava if she wasn’t comfortable but she knew keeping it hidden for a hundred years wasn’t helping anyone.

“Why do you wish to know so badly?” Ava’s own hand came up to rest affectionately on the human’s cheek, “You’re a bit of a pain, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me,” Sarah smiled at her, knowing she was trying to distract her with the touch, “You would feel better if you talked about it.”

“I don’t… you shouldn’t have to hear the horrors of it all, Sarah. It’s something no one should ever have to endure, I wish to protect you from even the thought of it.”

“Ava… Please?”

“I-” the blonde sighed, “I’ve never talked about it, not out loud.”

“Not even with Estia?”

“Gods no, she may be older than you mentally but to me she is still a baby, my baby. She had her own traumatic turning, the last thing she needs is to know how much I endured before even having the relief of finally meeting death.”

“Ava, I’m sorry… You don’t-”

She shook her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You asked and I do suppose it’s time I answer your questions. You deserve to know, though I will warn you it’s quite gruesome. I did not… have a pleasant end.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Sarah said apologetically, “Only if you trust me and feel comfortable, I would like to know.”

“Sarah, darling, I trust you more than anyone.”

***

Ava had been a nurse in a hospital in the poorest area of her hometown. She hadn’t wanted to become a nurse, rather she wanted to be a doctor, but female doctors just weren’t commonplace in the 1920’s. She spent the majority of her twenties working with women and children in poorhouses, coming to the aid of those who were harmed in war or domestic disputes. She was apart of a underground feminist movement in Cape Town as well, something her parents had long since stopped arguing with Ava about but hated all the same. She was reckless, they said, this would only hurt her reputation. How was she going to meet a respectable man to marry if she wouldn’t stop the suffragette nonsense? Little did they know, Ava had no interest in getting married, especially not to a man.

She was walking back from dropping her little sister off at some birthday party, Anikka had been so excited to give her friend a new teddy bear that Ava had helped her sew some little clothes for. The party would run for a few hours, so the woman figured she could kill some time by shopping for groceries and perhaps pick up a couple books to help Anikka learn to read.

It wasn’t even dark out, certainly not the time for a middle class, white woman to be too worried about walking around main street, though Ava realized she probably should have been more attentive. She was just passing between two stores, taking a familiar shortcut through an alleyway to avoid a group of soldiers doing a photo-op near a statue of the King. She didn't even have time to react when a rough hand grabbed her by the wrist, couldn’t bring herself to scream before another ice cold palm clapped over her mouth. The one thing she remembered before she blacked out was feeling the seam of her new coat ripping and the sharp pain of something jabbing into her shoulder.

When Ava woke up she was more than disoriented. The nurse in her said she must have hit her head at some point, as her eyes couldn’t comfortably adjust to the dim lighting and her mind was struggling to catch up. The room she was in was cold, empty except for a small cot pushed up against the wall and a bucket across the room that she didn't want to know the intended purpose of. She tried to get out, scrabbling at the rusty door hinges and tugging on the locked handle until her fingers bled. She cried, even though she hated herself for it, all she could do was cry and beg hoping her captors would hear her and have mercy.

Ava didn’t know how long she had been in that cold, damp room before someone showed up. She had cried herself to sleep at one point, curled up beside the door because the cot seemed too far away. She woke up when the door opened, hitting her in the back harshly. A voice chastised her for being in the way, demanding she stand and follow him. Ava tried to resist but was yanked to her feet, stumbling because she was beyond dehydrated and her head was spinning. She asked this man who he was, where he was taking her, and what day it was. She only got silence in reply, a harsh tug of her wrist almost landing her face first on the cold marble floor. That was when Ava realized she was barefoot, her coat and shoes were gone and her stockings had been ripped from the knees down. She was freezing, hands still bleeding from trying to escape, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted this to end before it got worse, she wasn’t sure what would happen to her but Ava assumed it wouldn’t be good.

Before long she was shoved into another room, the door slamming shut behind her. Ava assumed she was alone again, deciding to explore her new location since it was very different from her previous one. The room was decorated lavishly, way more modern than her current apartment that her father had bought her since she still refused to marry. A large piano was situated in the one corner of the room, overlooking a large curtained window that appeared to lead to a balcony. She ran an injured hand over the expensive leather of a comfortable looking couch, wondering who with all this money wanted anything to do with her. Sure Ava’s parents had money but she hardly believed they would pay any large sum for her ransom. Besides, these people appeared to have more money than her family ever would, so they probably didn’t need any ransom from her.

“Oh, you’ve finally calmed down; how lovely.”

Ava jumped at the deep tone, accented in a way that told her the man wasn’t from South Africa. English, she first assumed, and she turned to come face to face with a tall man who looked her father’s age. He was sitting in a chair near a fireplace, though it was not lit, and he had turned to look at Ava with amusement. What concerned her the most was his eyes, that tracked her anxious movements in a cat-like way. They were red, deeper in colour than the wounds of any injured person she had even seen. She wanted to scream, to run, but she feared for her life if she did.

“Now now, do not look so frightened, pet.” He stood, walking over to Ava even as she flinched away. A rough hand caught her face, squishing her cheeks as he gave her a once over with an unreadable expression. Ava had begun to cry silently, tears tracking down her already makeup-stained face and he wiped them away in distaste.

“So dramatic,” he crooned, “I hope you will learn to behave and keep yourself presentable in the future. Crying is unbecoming of a woman, especially one as pretty as you.”

“W-what… what do y-you want from me?”

“Oh, she speaks!” he laughed to himself, “What are you on about, pet?”

“I’m not you pet,” Ava spat in a sudden flare of rage, appalled at his behaviour towards her, “Is it money? Do you not have enough as it is? My family will not pay ransom for me, I hope you know.”

“Oh no, dear, you’ve got it all wrong,” Ava tried to fight off the hand that still had a hold of her but he only moved his hand down to wrap around her throat. He ignored the way her hands scrambled to tear his hand away, her nails not even making dents in his skin. The man grinned at her and if she had been able to Ava thought she would have screamed, where his incisors should have been were long, sharp teeth that could only be described as fangs.

“You, my pet, are mine. For eternity.”

***

“Is that when he…” Sarah was close to tears, holding tightly onto Ava’s hand. She saw the way her friend was shaking, whether it be out of fear of reliving her memories or anger at what had happened decades before. This was hard for her, Sarah felt horrible for even asking Ava to tell her what occurred.

“Gods no. Sarah, he kept me for over a year before his fangs ever broke skin.”

“What?”

“I was a walking blood bank for them…” she gestured to her countless scars inflicted by sharp objects, “They never bit me deep enough, not for the longest time. He said he would be the one to do it when the time came. They would cut me and collect my blood, sometimes he would… let them lick it off me instead.”

Anger flared in Sarah’s stomach at that, seeing how uncomfortable the memory made her. All she could do was stare at Ava, unsure of what to say. She just wanted to hug her in that moment, to hold her and promise no one would ever touch her again, but she didn’t want to overstep.

“It wasn’t all bad… they kept me well fed at least. I had to be of course, a malnourished person doesn’t produce good blood. My master,” she spat the title out like it burned, “He gave me everything a girl would have wanted back then. I had all the clothes and makeup and books I could want.”

“But you weren’t happy.”

“Of course not, I hated it there. I would pray for the day they would accidentally cut too deep or one of the fledglings would lose control and rip my throat out before he could stop them.”

“I’m sorry, Ava…” Sarah blinked away tears at the thought of everything she had had to endure, “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I got my wish, though,” Ava laughed bitterly as she traced the largest scar, “That day… I thought it was the end.”

“What… happened?”

A fledgling had a knife, she was supposed to be collecting from me that day,” she answered, letting Sarah tug her own hand away from her neck. She gave the human a sad smile when she held her hand tightly, grateful for her comfort.

“She hit your carotid?”

Ava nodded, hiding a flinch at the memory, “I barely recall what happened except for the searing pain. There was so much blood, she was having trouble holding back and I could tell. I blacked out in seconds but the last thing I remember was collapsing into her arms and… I wish it had been the end. The next couple weeks were Hell compared to what had happened before.”

Sarah couldn’t help but ask, “Why did they wait until the last moment to turn you?”

“I was their toy… their pet, Sarah. They had me exactly where they wanted me for a year. They gave me just enough of their venom to keep me loyal and tied down, I couldn’t fight because my body wouldn’t let me. If they turned me I would have been more powerful and they couldn’t keep me a useful prisoner anymore.”

“Then why bother turning you? If you were already bleeding out and wouldn’t be what they wanted after?”

“He… said he couldn’t live without me. He wanted me to be his wife, I refused countless times. He was my master so I couldn’t leave but I refused to ever be his submissive in my afterlife. He tried, for decades this man tried to win my favour and still treated me like I was his. I would never accept his advances though, which angered him. He may have taken my life and my blood but there was no way in Hell that man was taking my body too.”

This was taking a big toll on Ava, though she couldn’t physically cry Sarah could see in her eyes that she wanted to. The human apologized softly, opening her arms without saying anything else. Ava hesitated but allowed herself to melt into the comfort, feeling safer than she ever thought she would again. She wasn’t sure why Sarah made her feel so safe, especially since Ava herself was naturally supposed to be a threat to her. Still, the way the woman held her close and brushed her hair gently behind her ear made Ava feel seen and cared for for the first time since 1920.

“He’ll never hurt you again, Ava.”

Ava couldn’t help the tiny smile that fought its way onto her face, “He can’t. I killed that bastard the second I got the chance.”

[trustsalvatorewriting]

queendom || hope mikaelson - chapter seven

Summary: In which a tribrid falls in love with a human girl

Word Count: 1,982

Preface | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

-

"DO YOU WANT TO explain what you're doing outside of school?" Rebekah questioned as the three girls entered a small motel room. She set her things down on the nearest bed and approached Hope, arms crossed over her chest.

    Hope's eyes wandered away, almost refusing to look at her aunt's disappointed glare. "I was just going on a date."

    "Hope, you can't just throw a temper tantrum and commit grand theft auto every time you want to meet up with your newfound lover. This isn't a romance novel." Rebekah glances at the young girl standing by the door, whom Rebekah had compelled to remain calm.

    It was odd. They were all the same age, appearance-wise. Rebekah was sixteen, nearly seventeen, when was turned into a vampire by her mother. That had been a thousand years ago, when the Vikings had taken over American land and proclaimed it the New World. Her appearance had stayed true to the day she was turned. Her shiny blonde hair had never faded to gray, her pale freckled skin never wrinkling, her crystal blue eyes never wisening.

    So many years alive, yet nothing to show for it but a few supernatural abilities and the ache that came with the death of her brothers. Ones whom she'd once promised "always and forever" to, still wrapped in the idea that they were immortal.

    The silver-haired girl standing before her was human. Her porcelain cheeks were lightly flushed, likely due to a mixture of the chilly wind and Rebekah's red convertible. Her heart was beating quickly as she avoided eye contact with Rebekah. Understandable, considering it seemed as though the two Mikaelsons had just kidnapped the poor girl.

    "Well, now, don't be afraid, little bird." Rebekah took a step forward, brushing a stray hair from the girl's face and tucking it behind her ear. "I'll simply have a stern talking to with my niece, and we'll send you on your merry way."

    "You're not compelling her, are you?" Hope asked nervously, following Rebekah as she went to look through the bathroom of the motel room, checking to make sure that everything was in order. "Aunt Rebekah, you can't."

    It stung a bit knowing that Rebekah would be the one giving Hope a stern talking to regarding her first real relationship. Niklaus had always been more experienced with those -- he'd managed to kill several of the suitors that had chased after Rebekah throughout the years. She'd hated him for it, it's true, but Klaus had had the right intentions -- regardless of how poorly he'd carried them out.

    Rebekah didn't wish to raise Hope as her own daughter. To discipline her and compel away the memories of a girl she'd clearly come to fancy; but what choice did she have? Kol and Davina were halfway across the world, and although Kol meant well, he wouldn't be able to provide the same patience and discipline that Hayley and Niklaus would have given her. Rather, his first instinct would have been to congratulate Hope for the mess she'd made, followed by a visit to the nearest theme park.

    Freya, although she'd chosen to remain in New Orleans -- the closest thing Hope had ever gotten to a home -- had her own family to stand with. A son, named in honor of Niklaus, of whom shared the blood of two powerful witches and a werewolf.

    The Mikaelson bloodline would remain supernatural for the upcoming generation, and for generations after that. The magic of the Original witch, the blood that carrys the werewolf gene -- with great power came great danger. Hope would know several heartbreaks before she found the one she would be with forever. This would have to be one of those several.

    "You can't be with a human girl," Rebekah argued, taking a step towards the stubborn tribrid. "Don't you understand how foolish that is?'

    Hope shifted her weight. "It doesn't matter."

    "Of course it bloody matters, Hope," Rebekah spat. She could see all of the boys Nik had taken from her. Drained of blood or thrown from great heights -- he always did fancy spontaneity -- in order to protect her. "You're a Mikaelson. An Original. You can't afford to love someone so vulnerable."

    "I can't afford to be vulnerable," Hope hissed. "Everyone I love dies so long as I accept that I'm an Original. Maybe I don't want to be an Original."

    "Hope!" The blonde vampire rested her arms on Hope's shoulders. "Listen to me, all right. I know as well as you how hard it is to be a supernatural creature. I understand how badly you want to be human, but you can't put your heart on the line purely to live out a fantasy in which you are human. You're not."

    The young witch's eyes lit with flames. She took a step forward and for a moment, Rebekah could have sworn she'd seen Nik's face. "You're not my mother. You can't tell me how to live my life."

    "Then who will?" She raised her eyebrows. She turned, heading towards the young girl standing by the door. They locked eyes as Rebekah began to compel her to forget. Forget everything that she'd seen or heard, and that Hope had never shown up to their date, and her best bet was to forget that Hope Marshall ever existed.

    It'd be best to keep as much of her memory as possible. She'd likely told her friends about Hope, and it would create lapses in her memory if she had a date with a girl she didn't remember, at a place she'd seemingly forgotten.

    She followed the compulsion by suggesting that Angel call a friend to pick her up.

    "We can't even drop her back off at the fair?" Hope snapped, her teeth gritted together in anger. "Or even at her house? She could get hurt."

    "You weren't worrying about her safety when you brought her into our world," Rebekah growled. It hurt a bit. She wanted to protect both of the girls, not just Hope. For a moment she could look at the young girl, and see a bit of herself. Vulnerable, young, naive. Completely unaware of the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Sure that she would live the rest of her life human.

    The girl had a right to be human. No one could take that away from her.

    "What's your name, love?" Rebekah asked after a moment.

    "Angel," The girl responded calmly. It was almost robotic. "Angel Nguyen."

    Rebekah nodded after a moment. "Vietnamese ancestry, Americanized first name. Interesting. Were your parents first generation immigrants?"

    "I... " The girl blinked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "I'm not sure. They always speak fondly of Vietnam, but they've never shown me any pictures of them there. Just pictures of the villages in black and white."

    Hope took a step forward. "Angel, you said you've never been more than an hour outside of Statera. That you've never even stayed out of Statera for longer than an hour. Have your parents?"

    Angel's heart rate increased. "I don't know."

    "Are you lying?" Rebekah questioned, crossing her arms. "Tell us the truth, Angel."

    "I am," She responded, beginning to panic as she realized the situation around her. It was as though the compulsion had worn off completely. "Please don't hurt me."

    "Wait," Hope paused. "Angel, you said you're from Vietnam, right?" Angel nodded in response, and Hope continued. "And you've never been outside of Statera for longer than an hour." The young human continued to agree, until Hope came to her conclusion. "What happens if you stay outside for too long?"

    As if on cue, there was a bang on the door. Rebekah glanced at the time, only to realize it had been an hour since she'd picked Angel and Hope up from the fair. Quickly, she grabbed hold of Angel's wrist and pulled the girl behind her. Her heart began to race as the door began to shake, the hinges weakening with each hit.

    'A wolf. A hybrid. Mikael.' The Originals thoughts drowned her, her mind separating from her body for a few moments. It was as though she'd floated away for a few moments.

    Hope pushed past her aunt and muttered a spell under her breath. The dresser flew towards the door, blocking it from opening. "It'll hold it, but not for long. We have to find a way to get out of here."

    "Can you do that thing from Wizards of Waverly Place where you flash us to a different location?" Angel asked, oddly calm. "That would work, right?"

    "Not how magic works," Hope responded, only slightly amused. She pulled on Rebekah's jacket as she and Angel ran into the bathroom, likely searching for a window. Rebekah took a few moments to herself before she saw part of the door burst amount, only the arm of a seemingly human man trying to push its way into the room.

    Rebekah turned, breaking off a piece of the dresser and throwing it in the direction of the monster's arm. She watched as it impaled its wrist, but continued to push it's way in, as if nothing had happened.

    "There's no window!" Hope yelled as she returned from the back of the motel room. "What do we do?"

    The three girls watched, paralyzed with horror, as the hinges of the door gave in and the monster pushed its way into the motel room. It looked nothing like a human, but rather, a deformed creature. Its limbs were decomposed, peeling as if it were that of a zombie. The body, impaled with swords, arrows and ancient weaponry -- created before even the dawn of the Original vampires -- moved as though it felt none of it.

    Immune to physical pain, to blockades, to even something as obvious as death itself. A monster with no ability to die, and no way to be stopped.

    "You've gotta be kidding me," Hope whispered under her breath. "I've read about these. Foetoribus Careat. Latin for 'unsullied.'"

    Rebekah raised her eyebrows at her niece. "And what the bloody hell are we supposed to do with that?"

    "I don't know," She admitted, taking steps back as it fought its way through the blockade of dressers. "They're supposed to be extinct. They haven't been seen in centuries. They were made to protect people living inside the cities of Indo... China."

    Angel. It wanted Angel. The teenage girl who'd done absolutely nothing, who was seemingly protected from the supernatural world, was being hunted by a mindless, immortal corpse. And by an unsullied monster.

    "So it wants the girl," Rebekah stated. "It was meant to protect her. Maybe it won't harm her."

    "He doesn't look very harmless!" Hope yelled, pushing Angel further behind her. "Look, maybe we could take her to the Salvatore School. Maybe we could protect her."

    "That's not an option, Hope, that means endangering the lives of more innocent supernatural teenagers -- all of whom are not protected by this stupefied corpse." Rebekah grabbed a lamp and through it at the monster, watching as the glass shattered and pierced through its arm. Still, no blood, no sign of weakness. "Our best bet is to let it take her. At the end of the day, it's protecting her, right?"

    "She didn't obey their commands. They might kill her to punish her!"

    "Well, sometimes teenagers have to learn some bloody discipli--" The monster reached for the blonde vampire's throat, wrapping its fingers around her neck and squeezing. Rebekah felt the air leaving her lungs, followed by a burning sensation as she began to lose air. Vampirism didn't protect you from the death that came with a mortal body. She clawed at its hand, feeling its flesh tear off as she did so, but it was no use.

    Seconds passed, and it felt like centuries as her senses were consumed by darkness.