#only because I interpreted that as Woman Librarian

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

My gender identity and sense of style are in a fucking fistfight

[roserunodays]

Kotoko's Connection with the Fairy Tale of Red Riding Hood

So THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE POST, but I kept looking into it, and now here's a full blown analysis instead lol. I realized that Kotoko has many allusions to the story of Red Riding Hood besides the wolves and her signature red jacket. The themes of familial love, protection, and deception all seem to be reflected in Kotoko's actions and what we know of her past and personal life so far. So this post will detail more of the connections between her and this tale, as well as theorize on certain parts on what her story might reveal in the future!

MAJOR THANKS to my English major himejoshi librarian bunny mutual @lillyviarabbit for proof reading this so that my writing doesn't sound clunky af 🙏

A Quick Aside: The Other Side of this Tale (TW for sexual assault and rape mention)

So...there's another side to the original tale of Red Riding Hood, one that deals with much heavier themes on what the story as a whole is supposed to symbolize. I didn't want to analyze these themes of rape, sexual assault, and analogies of being 'turned' into a woman (such as hoods/veils representing both marriage and bereavement). They are there though, and easy analogies can be made, but that's not the content I want to cover. This is mainly because I just don't think we have enough evidence or hints as of now from Kotoko's past that suggests these parts from the Red Riding Hood story are also in her story. I did not want to speculate on these parts either because I wanted to treat them with respect and sensitivity, rather than simply speculate that they have to do with a fictional character's past when we don't even have any evidence to theorize that they do. So this post will only touch upon the more well known parts of the story instead!

Also I won't be talking about Jacques Roulet and his weird ass story because none of it makes sense to me with how it's related to Kotoko, so I will leave that to someone with a bigger brain to analyze that 💀 and I'll be sticking to analyzing similarities with Perrault's version of the story, though the analysis referenced at the end also includes the Grimm version!

Allusions to Red Riding Hood Herself:

One of the major similarities between Kotoko and Red Riding Hood is — well — the red hooded jacket!

This jacket is the most recognizable part of the fairy tale, and it clearly sticks out in Kotoko's wardrobe as the outfit she wears while she's in her forest world, notably with the wolves she's running with in HARROW.

Appearance wise, Kotoko also seems to fit the bill for how Red has been portrayed throughout various iterations of the story over time.

Red's appearance generally describes a girl with short black hair and a bob that reaches down to be exact.

"Another difference lies in the fact that, in addition to [her hair] being black, Little Red Riding Hood’s hair is generally short, reaching to her chin at most, with a charming bob that frames her face."

The signature hood is also noted, with Kotoko's prisoner uniform being the only one to notably have a hood on it.

"It becomes a powerful indicator of sense. History shows that an object that goes on a woman’s or girl’s head has always been ambivalent, not to say ambiguous. It covers, it conceals, it protects, but it also alludes, adorns and attracts."

Not only does Kotoko's hood uniform reflect her similarity with Red Riding Hood, it also highlights Kotoko's tendency to protect/conceal all the aspects of herself she does not want to reveal to anyone else.

It's clear that Kotoko doesn't trust anyone else in the prison, wanting to conceal as much stuff about her as possible so she can analyze their behavior and how much they change following the time between trial 1 and trial 2. This secretive nature, interpreted by her actions and the hood she wears as a way for Kotoko to protect herself and her fragile self-worth, is also highlighted in Streaming Heart's lyrics.

"Though I seem to say many things, please try and seek out the real me. In the space between truth and lies, hidden away so well."

The Grandmother:

Another major fact that gets overlooked is how Kotoko offhandedly mentions in her family structure that she has a grandmother. As a lot of us already know, the main plot of Little Red Riding Hood is that the girl delivers food to her grandmother, who is sick and lives in a house in the woods. This detail from her interrogation is rather...specific, given that she doesn't even mention having a grandfather, just a grandmother along with her parents and older brother.

One additional piece of evidence that connects to this is the symbolism of her birthday flower, Monstera Deliciosa!

In many Asian cultures, this plant can also symbolize a respect and honoring of the elderly. Interesting, considering that this is the plant Yamanaka picked out for Kotoko.

While we don't exactly know the details between Kotoko and the relationship she has with her grandmother, her birthday flower seems to hint that she has some kind of respect for her, or at least they are most likely on good terms with each other.

"Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had a little red riding hood made for her. It suited the girl so extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood."

And that is why I wonder: did something happen to Kotoko's grandmother that made her realize how flawed and unfair justice can really be? Well, we know that in the story, the wolf disguises himself as Red's grandmother to try and trick her. But why litter Kotoko with all this wolf symbolism (besides the dog/tool dehumanization she's associated with) if she's supposed to allude to the character of Red Riding Hood?

The Wolf:

There is a major difference when it comes to the Tale of Red Riding Hood and Kotoko’s MV symbolism, which is the wolf’s role in each of their stories.

For Red, the wolf is the enemy. The wolf is one who tricks her from the very beginning, and the one who tries to eat her and her grandmother.

"Grandmother, what big arms you have!" "All the better to hug you with, my dear." "Grandmother, what big legs you have!" "All the better to run with, my child." "Grandmother, what big ears you have!" "All the better to hear with, my child." "Grandmother, what big eyes you have!" "All the better to see with, my child." "Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!" "All the better to eat you up with."

But Kotoko…she’s with the wolf. The wolf is instead her companion it seems, the one who runs and sits beside her when she’s doing her vigilante stuff.

And more importantly, the wolf seems like the one to be enabling her, helping her continue with rescuing the little girl and beating up the child kidnapper. It is the one thing by her side that encourages her to bare her fangs and protect the weak.

People have speculated that this wolf represents a person in Kotoko's life, a vigilante partner she used to have? Her older brother perhaps? Who knows really, but I think we can all agree that this wolf is a person who has influenced Kotoko a lot. It is the one thing that pushes her continue with this, to continue with the cycle of cruelty and violence in her act of handing out her own form of justice. And that brings me to Kotoko's jacket again.

The Red/Pink Jacket:

I want to address the difference between Kotoko's jacket in her forest world, as opposed to it in the real world. In the forest world, we see that the jacket is more of a hot pinkish color.

I'm not sure if this is fully because of the lighting, but the color difference for the jacket is very notable if you compare them side by side. In the real world, the jacket is clearly more red than pink:

So why make this jacket be two different colors in two different places? Well, I'd like to theorize that the answer has to do with this girl that appears for a brief few seconds in HARROW, in the flashback sequence while Kotoko is beating up the child kidnapper dude.

Or as I like to call her: PINK SHIRT GIRL ✨

One final thing I wanted to talk about is how this girl relates to Kotoko, the different colors for her same jacket in the MV, and the sole reason why I think she wears a pink shirt. A lot of people have speculated that this girl is a younger version of Kotoko, possibly back when she was a child. Pink for Kotoko seems to emphasize her ideals at their most pure level.

When Kotoko is wearing her jacket when it's pink, she's in her forest world that emphasizes Kotoko's purpose in protecting the weak. She's emotional there, she falters, worn out by the running and desperate to continue going. There is nothing shown in those scenes that shows her childlike ideals being tainted, yet.

But when Kotoko alludes to her self-hatred and the wolf urges her to go on with the attack, HARROW switches back to the real world where the jacket is red. We Kotoko smile after she presumably kills the child kidnapper guy as she declares that she wants to be "drowning in the knowledge that [she] is right", and thus, this seems like we the audience realize this is the moment when Kotoko's ideals begin to become more distorted than how they were presented in the forest world.

We see that she finally gains a satisfaction that everything that she did wasn't for completely nothing, and that she now has the purpose that makes her existence useful. While she does want to protect the weak and give out justice, it is not entirely motivated by altruism, as HARROW points out. When Kotoko's pink jacket becomes red, it seems to signify how her pure, child-like ideals become tainted and much more flawed compared to them initially.

This, along with Kotoko having the wolf as her companion, all seem to point at just how much Kotoko herself has become the very monsters she wanted to destroy. The child-like pink has now become a red stained with blood, or rather a shade of magenta. A mix of red and pink that highlights Kotoko's immature and child-like view of a black and white world, while also noting that Kotoko is not the innocent Little Red Riding Hood she once was anymore—

She is the wolf. She is a Red Riding Hood who has been led on by the wolf's ideals, the prey that has been ensnared and eaten by the wolf at the end of the original Charles Perrault story.

She is the wolf, the monster now.

She is now the sinner she hates so much.

Sources:

https://journals.openedition.org/strenae/6423 This one is the Red Riding Hood clothing analysis!

https://core.ecu.edu/parillek/littleredcinder.pdf "Little Red Riding Hood" Charles Perrault version

https://medium.com/@monsterahelpful/the-symbolism-and-history-behind-the-monstera-leaf-unveiling-its-meaning-11ba828837c2 Monstera Deliciosa symbolism!

https://twitter.com/pug_maniac/status/1735912110423732687 Yamanaka's tweet for Kotoko's birthday flower!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Red_Riding_Hood The Wikipedia page for Little Red Riding Hood! This also contains the heavier themes I was talking about in the beginning, so if you want to find out more, they have a whole section about it here. Trigger Warnings for sexual assault and rape for this Wikipedia page.

https://youtu.be/VrAW8zyoEiY?si=a3p4nb8B1TTza-x_ Translation video for Kotoko's first voice drama, Task.

https://youtu.be/_gTTtS0Fvxk?si=Y1Zwu3XOI_nRHgex HARROW MV

Also I'd love to read more analyses if anyone writes them, especially on topics I avoided, so tag me if you write any!!!

[infinitemonkeytheory]

I can’t believe they let Lizzo [play a flute owned by James Madison / twerk even though she’s not skinny / continue to exist as a Black woman].

I found this event [triggering / in violation of my need to only ever see thin white women on my timeline]. As someone who spends a fair bit of time yammering on about our nation’s heritage, it deeply offends me that [Lizzo seems to care about our nation’s heritage / a Black woman is now the Librarian of Congress].

Clearly this horrible event was a form of racial retribution. I know this because I believe life is a zero-sum game where [there are only winners and losers / only white people should put their lips on white people flutes / Lizzo should be as sad and lonely as my white nationalist substack subscribers].

Some people saw Lizzo playing James Madison’s flute and thought, Gee, what a nice thing that any normal person can enjoy. But this is the wrong reaction. Whenever anything happens in the world involving a prominent Black person, the correct thing to do is [immediately make it about myself / have a knee-jerk reaction I will never honestly explore / interpret it through my precious and lucrative lens of white grievance].

I don’t care if Lizzo is a [classically trained musician / popular and beloved artist / cultural icon]. Those things don’t matter to me, because when I look at Lizzo perform, all I can ever see is her [skin color / gender / body size], the three things that matter most to me when I judge a woman.

Speaking of which, what is a woman? Having given this question an unhealthy and inappropriate amount of thought, a woman is someone who should be [a virgin until she is married to a man / forced to give birth against her will / white if aquatic]. A woman is not someone who should [feel entitled to dress the way they want / dance the way they want / behave in ways that don’t please me personally].

I am absolutely qualified to make judgments on Lizzo’s performance, musical talent, and clothing choices because my only talent is [whining about white victimhood / obsessing about trans kids / podcasting about the scientific validity of Black mermaids].

James Madison is one of our most venerated forefathers, and in my anger over this Lizzo abomination, I’ve never once stopped to consider that President Madison [owned slaves / believed women didn’t deserve the right to vote / never once played his crystal flute]. And now that I’ve learned about the existence of this crystal flute, it seems very important to me that it should remain hidden away, just like [women who don’t conform to a Barbie standard of beauty / honest historical accounts about slavery and its enduring legacy / the truth behind my knee-jerk disgust response to Lizzo].

There are those who might take this event as an opportunity to celebrate the fact that Lizzo [actually cares about American history enough to tour the Library of Congress / is bringing welcome attention to the Library of Congress’s collection / is a multitalented artist and musician using her fame and powers for the good]. Me? I’m taking this opportunity to [embarrass myself, yet again, on Twitter / expose myself, yet again, as a petty and pathetic human being / enrich myself, yet again, off the dollars of people who still believe Trump “drained the swamp”].

At her Washington DC concert, Lizzo thanked the Library of Congress for preserving our history. She sparked international interest in its archival collection and inspired band kids everywhere to play their instruments with pride. What a sad episode for anyone who cares about this country. In fact, I feel quite ill. In a minute, I’m going to need [some smelling salts / to write yet another think piece about the catastrophe of wokeness / my comfort Confederate flag].

The Library of Congress should never allow someone like Lizzo to touch their archival instruments again. And that’s because [these instruments, which I’ve never given a thought to before today, are very important to me / Lizzo living her best life is something that makes me really mad / when I talk about our “heritage,” this is just code for “white people”].

[deafsignifcantother]

evil woman

♥ summary: the desire to 'win' him it goes beyond words. as the girlfriend of jason and one of the most approved cheerleader, you have everything you could ever want, so why focus so much energy on eddie munson?

♥ relationships: eddie munson x deaf woman reader

♥ word count: 2.1k

♥ details: femme fatale reader, reader can read lips, briefly mentioning that reader has a school interpreter

♥ warnings: cheating/disloyalty, one sentence mentioning sex, alcohol

♥ author's note: this is based off of this evil woman [technically a cover] by black sabbath. also i have a hard time with english grammar so >.>

You glance around the lunch table. There's a distracting amount cola bottles hitting the table as well as the stomping of feet that annoy you only because of your overly-aware sense of vibration. These things; these feelings; these failed attempts at accessibility make your head whip back and forth.

‘Who's talking now’ you always find yourself wondering.

Horrible isolating, you think for the millionth time before putting a water bottle to your mouth. During that quick second, everybody at the table starts to laugh, and it takes you a second to realize somebody had told a joke.

You just laugh too.

From across the cafeteria, Eddie watches you, tightening his jaw when he sees the look of confusion on your face. He also eyes Jasons hand that has a permanent wrap around your waist. Even though it seems as if he is glued to you, that man doesn't even face you when he talks.

"You should invite her over here," Dustin says. Even though his tone was genuine, he held a mischievous smile on his face. Eddie scoffs at him.

"Invite her? No way. It's not as if that guy would even let anyone talk to her, look," he gestures weakly to your table. "She doesn't understand a word they're saying."

Dustin's brain flashes to the schools rally's and games during basketball season where the drums would pound to the rhythm of the dance for you to follow. You smile brighter than the other girls. Because of your circumstance, and the way your features make you stand out anyway, you seem to be more praised than anybody else on the team.

Jason likes to hold you tight to him for those such reasons.

Dustin also notices the way you watch faces and then smile along with the conversation. You do understand what they're saying.

His eyes go between you and Eddie. What is he seeing that he can't?

Eddie completely loses the concentration on his face when you actually turn your head to look at him. You do a double take before staring back.

You tilt your head. He smacks his lips. You lean in a bit, a smile still on your face, but one side twitches into a smirk, your eyes darkening before you shake your head and face your body more towards the center of your friend group.

You press your thumb to your lip and appear to check out mentally.

⭐️

The TTY got smaller. That big ol box was never your favorite, but getting the electric contemporary product made you feel a bit cooler. When the light starts to flash, your heart starts to beat. There's only one person who talks to you this late in the day.

He types...HEY HEY HEY GA.

5pm on the clock. He has consistency.

You type back within seconds, ANYTHING NEW Q GA.

Eddie takes a second to think after almost every message. He gets nervous talking to you.

JUST MISSING YOU GA

I SAW YOU LOOKIN TODAY GA

WORRIED HE SAW TOO GA

You laugh. WHAT WOULD HE DO GA

Eddie slouches in his seat. You asked a stupid question. What would he do? Nothing he can't take, of course, but just imagine what would happen if Jason were to find out that his girlfriend was talking to somebody else.

Even if that somebody else was someone who was obviously better.

HLD

"Excuse me, Munson," the librarian smiles sweetly at him. "You know what time it is."

"Just a few more seconds." He says with an impatient tone. He types with even more impatience.

NEED TO GO GA TO SKSK

SEE YA TMRW ED SKSK

He picks up his backpack and heads back to the car. He had lied about owning a TTY to you. He'd never seen one in his life until he went to the library.

The first time you caught his eye, it was at one of the rally's. When the school year started, you had been brought up often. Whenever your name would be mentioned the common response amongst people would be, “The deaf one?".

And then he saw you with your pom-poms and your scrunched socks. He noticed how attractive you were immediately. And then you sat down with your team but at the end of the bleacher, and in all black clothing was an interpreter. It's you.

Then he saw you in the halls. And you're with him.

Now, you try to avoid the halls that he's in so he doesn't have to get the sight of your boyfriend. And you're still with him.

You play your little mind games when it comes to being in public. Sometimes when you do end up passing him as you're next to Jason, you'll do risky things like wink at him, or flashing him a see you later or a point and a sexual sign. Once he even saw you unbottoning the top of your shirt, looking at him in the eyes as you do it. His least favorite thing that you did was drop your books in front of him. His heart made him move before his brain could stop it, and he picked them up before offering them to you, holding them all in one hand. Jason pushed his shoulder between the both of you and snatched the books away before stepping up.

You tapped on his back, holding your hand out and letting him pass you the books. Your friends rested their bodies against your side and that's all it took for you to leave him to his own devices.

This all started when Eddie first followed you into the public library. He was driving down the streets on a low weekend, and then your backpack appeared at a parking lot in his view. He pulled in immediately, excited to have seen you out of school. He's been practicing his ASL.

He saw you sat down at one of those machines, and he wandered the aisles pretending to ponder before gaining the confidence to approach you. You offered him a smile when he introduced himself and starting describing his interests. He asked you what you're doing here, and you helplessly motioned to the TTY.

"Mine at home is broke, we are getting a new one." You signed.

"Oh yeah, for real, mine too."

You looked surprised. He sucked in a breath, wondering why that even came out of him.

"Really?" Your eyes start to shine. "So you've meet a Deaf person?"

"Yeah, you know, I’ve seen them in Children of a Lesser God."

The quizzical look in your eyes was something he'd never forget. When you made that expression, your lips spread into a grin and your eyebrows furrowed.

Sometimes he reads the expression as sassy because more often than not, you would just give him the siren eyes before shaking your head and looking away. The thought of sassiness mostly comes from the fact that you were the one that came on to him, and not the other way around. He had spent the beginning of the relationship thinking that he was the one pulling you, but he didn't know that you were the one that was luring him in.

You are like this: the instigator of problems yet not being the one that is most concerned about them. You wave him off whenever he mentions the infidelity, and you do this because you know no one would expect that much deviance from you.

Your audacity was a bit alluring. Eddie liked your enchantress-like beauty and your masterful capabilities. He considered you the dungeon master of the high-class society you were in.

Your wickedness was better portrayed in your kiss, as those lips controlled you more than your brain ever could. You love innocent-looking gestures like pecking him on the cheek, it juxtaposes the sly expression in your eye that pierces through him when he tries to approach you at school.

He calls you almost every day. The librarians know him and always saved the machine at the end of the shift for him. He wanted to go towards closing hours so that it lessened the chance of somebody seeing him there (a library of all places, how could he!).

You always pick up instantly. Why do you pick up so fast yet not even look at him at school? You were driving him crazy. He wanted you, he wanted to hold you tightly and keep you for himself. He's tried to convince you to break up with Jason but you heavily refuse under the means of "imagine what that would do to me".

You like his passion[ate feelings for you], but you're too goal-orientated to realize that this man is already entranced by you, you feel as if it could always be more. Truthfully, you are more than content in this situation. Jason and his friends can think you're submissive and compliant and that's okay with you. You're fine with being the underdog if it means you can get away with more things.

Eddie is special to you.

Eddie has only heard your voice when you moan, and he has seen your hands do much more than sign. After you leave, he will ponder on your and Jason's relationship. Do you do all of this with him too? Or maybe not, and maybe Eddie is fucking Jason's girl when not even he could go that far with her.

No matter what's going on behind closed doors, he's being played and still, he's in denial. He considers himself special to even be talking to you, as if since you are Deaf, he gets extra points of sort.

Maybe he should be fine with the situation you all are in, too. If you were to date him, you wouldn't have the respect that you deserve. He worries that it'll make high school harder for you. Plus, you seem happy with your friends, and you are not as happy around the people he hangs with.

He's too open-minded for his own good - and he can only admit this when it comes to you. He sees the good in you. He sees the same things that everybody else can, too, even though none of it is true.

The moment he approached you in the library was the moment you knew you wanted to have him, so with a clueless attitude and a reassuring smile, you made him feel as if he was special. He now presses his head against your sternum before kissing all the way up to your neck. You are incredibly seductive and morality-ruining and yet he has no plan to let you slip away (more as: you have no plan to let him slip away).

You and Eddie had gone out in public for the first time together, and quickly you went back to his car that was parked across the street for what you claimed was a trip for your water bottle, resolving to bring this “date” charade to a sudden yet bloodless end. The whole idea had been an idiotic thing: there are just too many factors in the two of you being seen together. Maybe you can tell him you're tired or that you're expecting Jason to come over later. What could get you out of this situation?

You arrive back at the table where Eddie had meanwhile opened another beer and was staring at the entrance, waiting for you to return, while a man and a woman stepped onto the restaurant's patio from the back, where the forest is, and where also the teenagers lucky-spot is.

"Can you walk me back to my car?" said the chick in the distance. Eddie felt his spine straightened. You are too distracted trying to think of an escape goat to even notice the fact that a couple was walking nearby.

"Eddie I think I need to go," you sign. "Do you think we can leave?"

But his attention had been wrenched away by the man's reply to his girl. "You trust me that much?" And then a teasing laugh that he knew too well.

"Eddie, did you understand?" You wave.

But Eddie was staring across at Jason as he wrapped an arm around the girl from out the forest: the couple who were beginning to walk away together.

He felt a surge of anxiety and yet an anticipation that keeps him staring. Then, suddenly, it was the anxiety that became the only thing on his mind when Jason said a sudden oh wait and padded his pockets as if he had left something behind. In a moment of pure anguish for Eddie, they saw one another, man and man, from across the patio.

Jason saw him with you, saw what was going on, assumed everything correctly.

Eddie only saw his lips move, and it was a curse, as the girl from across the patio stared as well, but in surprise.

"Eddie?" You wave again.

[bread--quest]

ok so i want to post my observations/stories about my coworkers but obviously i don't want to dox them but also i can't just keep saying "my coworker" because a) that makes it sound like theres only one which would get confusing and b) what if theres multiple of them in a story. so i thought it over and decided the most simple american way was to rank them all by how much i like them and refer to them as such. if you are interested in hearing stories of my fun job adventures it will be helpful for you to internalize the following list:

coworker #1 (they/them): my favorite one. fellow intern. they're really cool. they taught me how to play speed (card game) and used they/them pronouns for me and lied to our boss once (told her we were talking about intern projects when we had actually been discussing ofmd). they have a tumblr and are really good at fashion. i have a crush on them and i hope they never find this post love and light

coworker #2 (she/her): also an intern! was on myspace right before it died and also on neopets. this garners her more respect from me then almost any of my actually older coworkers. from florida which is one point not in her favor but it's chill. i introduced her to picrew yesterday and she loved it

coworker #3 (he/him): one of the interpreters/tour guides. i thought he was like mid to late twenties until yesterday but he's actually 18 it's just that he has an entire beard and the manner and bearing of a camp counselor. anyway he's really nice and fun to talk to

coworker #4 (she/her): like the second-in-command after my boss kinda. she's pretty cool, comes around to check on everyone. wears sunglasses even though she doesn't seem like a person to wear sunglasses but she makes it work

coworker #5 (she/her): another of the interpreters. she's the youngest person here but very capable. she seems cool

coworker #6 (she/her): probably the oldest person here? she's really cool, talks for a bit too long sometimes but y'know she has a lot to talk about so i don't mind.

coworker #7 (she/her): older woman. seems nice

coworker #8 (she/her): my school librarian which is awkward. she keeps asking me about school stuff and im like im sorry School Sonder isnt here right now this is Work Sonder please call back later

coworker #9 (she/her): older woman. new here. very nervous about being new here. keeps making other people do a certain demonstration for her because she's not confident in it. i keep trying to explain the concept of "fake it (confidence) till you make it (through the demonstration)" to her but its not working

coworker #10 (he/him): a young adult with the energy of a teen boy who has just entered puberty. doesn't seem to have a sense of what's appropriate for what conversations always. funny in a "i would like to study him" kind of way

coworker #11 (he/him): middle-aged guy who talks a LOT about boats. has a lot of opinions on boats. may be from massachusetts. keeps trying to make suggestions to make our tours be more accurate (read: have more details about boats). his main redeeming quality is that he seems to have some level of self-awareness about the fact that he talks way too much about boats but he is making no effort to change this

my boss (she/her): separate from the others because she's my boss. she's pretty nice and i like her but i'm a little scared of her in the way youre scared of authority figures who you both want and need to like you. sometimes she assigns me projects and then forgets about them entirely which is honestly kind of relatable

archivist (she/her): on the same level as my boss but not actually my boss because i don't work in the archives so i'm not intimidated by her. very nice. likes doctor who. sometimes she stops talking mid-sentence and stares blankly ahead for like 10 seconds before resuming her sentence. i don't think anyone at this museum is neurotypical

[youturningintodust]

It’s so bizarre and hilarious (if sad, because they pick up supporters who haven’t thought certain aspects out well enough) to see second wavers/radfemism types’ ideas on lesbianism on here.

Like they’re literally trying to recreate the Lesbian Sex Wars like it never ended. Reminds me of how Russia thinks it’s still in the Cold War lmfao. It’s over, get used to it.

And one of the biggest ways they show this is through their refusal to understand butch/femme relationships. (We already know all about their trans-hate but I won’t go there RN.) This was one of their main aggressions in the 2nd wave decades: going against any “gender-weird” people and those who were in relationships with them.

Really, they hated and still hate ANYONE with STRONGLY gendered energy, including highly femme cis women (and masculine cis men), too, if not with quite the same extreme ire that they have for those who go against what was pushed on them at birth (butch women, fem men, trans people).

And they use “it’s sexist and just like the worst existing relationships in cis/hetero culture” as a cheap tactic to frighten impressionable types out of expressing themselves. To intimidate and push people out of just…being real.

Because it is real. People being like this is just, well, real, and maybe it isn’t the life everyone has, but it’s authentic.

At the core of their beliefs, they hate polarized gendered energy. They’re scared of it.

They can never fully accept the eroticism, beauty, energy exchange, yin/yang of the relationship of a masculine/feminine couple. (Probably not butch/butch female or fem/fem male couples either, but that kind of goes without saying, when they fear gender-variation.) Something about them just jars at it, like it’s so blatant and powerful and right out there that they don’t know what to do with it.

If these librarians had their way, we would all be wandering around with bowl cuts and turtlenecks having mild sex after eating a few spoonfuls of organic quinoa and reading goddamn dry academic lit to each other. The entire species.

The idea that we would all be walking blank slates if “culture” didn’t “force” gendered energy onto us is bogus. They can really only speak for themselves.

So they have to say nonsense like that being butch is “practical clothing” and femininity is “for men”. Ignoring everything about what we actually are, because they fail or refuse to understand it.

I kind of get a laugh at this point at how much it makes them tremble.

If it weren’t so powerful, they wouldn’t avoid it, like the bogeyman under the bed.

They wouldn’t try to find ways to de-masculinize butchness/female masculinity in language, acting like it’s just a desire to cast off skirts and dress “comfortably”; they wouldn’t demean femininity as only a tool of oppression, not something that feminine women can shape into what they want and need. Wherein in both cases, a butch or a femme is just a sad, pathetic woman responding only to cis men’s sexism, and nothing else. Not masculinity or femininity as its own POWER. They wouldn’t forcibly re-interpret us into their stupid little roles because they can’t understand us…unless it frightened some part of them, to understand us.

They are so sexually repressed. And repressing us is part of that for them.

Strong masculinity and strong femininity are potent sexual symbols. Just as much now as in past decades, they can’t take it. Quaking at it. Nuns. Schoolmarms. Conservative grandmas. Sexual verve and drive are of Teh Debil, and they’ll just find secular, academic ways to express that fascist urge to control, destroy, repress, and pretend it doesn’t exist.

So many thoughts about this. just, lol.

[archivyrep]

The relevance of Star Wars to pop culture depictions of archives [part 1]

My post on here back in February was met with some push back on /r/archivists, which I totally expected. One cranky archivist, with the username DependentFigure6777, declared that "any article that uses Attack of the Clones as evidence of anything in the real world is not well." I'm not really sure how to interpret that comment except that it is passive aggressive and a bit hostile. So, in this post I'll explain why Attack of the Clones and Star Wars are relevant to the real world, especially to work in archives, even though Star Wars films, animated series, and the like, are obviously fiction, and not "evidence" of any real-world archiving, especially since archivists and librarians are famously confused in Attack of the Clones, leading a myriad of problems.

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally published on Oct. 12, 2022.

As I noted in that post, Jedi archivist Jocasta Nu in the Star Wars franchise thinks her records are "complete" and without error, but is anything but neutral. She further thinks that all the records will not have not have any issues because the information is managed by a Jedi, i.e. herself, and others who are helping her. I further noted that that the Jedi temple archives' records are meant for the Jedi, but the general public is now allowed inside and can't access the records, meaning there are definitely specific rules which influence how the records are described, collected, and arranged, rules with their own biases based on where, when, and who runs the archives. In the post I also noted that the Imperials took the Jedi records and destroyed many of these records, with Nu purging the archive files before that, using it for their own means, becoming a a place for anti-Jedi propaganda, with manipulation of archived data. I further argued that this story means that archives aren't neutral but are contested spaces going from Jedi propaganda to anti-Jedi Empire propaganda, then becoming Sith propaganda. Since it is a human institution, its organization of information and storage involves choices, as not a neutral receptacle of history, nor is its documentation accurate, comprehensive, fair or representative. There is no such thing as a "complete" archives.

This is really something that would be great for someone to write a fan fic about if they so chose, as they could touch on many archival themes. Otherwise, apart from the various articles about this by Sam Cross and Jennifer Snoek-Brown, both of whom were part of a really great video vlog/podcast about archival themes in Star Wars films which was posted on Cross's YouTube channel [1] this film has often been covered in the archival literature. I noted one such article in my post last month, by an Italian archivist. Others have pointed out Nu as an example of a "librarian" with an "unsupportive" attitude, as she is extremely unhelpful to Obi-Wan.

Harvard educator, ethnographer, and organizer Jarret Martin Drake mentioned the series briefly in his article "Blood at the Root" in the Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies, writing that "the ethical archivist, it is often argued, does not shirk this power but rather assumes it consciously and conscientiously, a wiser wielder of their force, so to say, as evidenced by the conspicuously outsized number of references to Star Wars in this genre of writing." [2] Others have gone further, saying the scene in Attack of the Clones provides a glimpse into the "kind of power archives wield and their ontological effect as sites where not only events, experiences, and histories get recorded"

Most well-known is an article by Randall Jimerson, then president of the SAA, arguing that in Attack of the Clones, "archives represent power", claiming that the film presents a "more confident view of archives" than George Orwell's 1984, and describes Jocasta Nu as a "frail elderly woman". He goes onto say that the missing planet is erased in an "act of archival sabotage" but that the film's futuristic vision of an archives "shows the limits of archival control." He then says that the "pose of omniscience" of the archivist is "truly an illusion" and quotes Eric Ketelaar who says that the power o the archivist is shown in the fact that "Obi-Wan must physically enter the Jedi Archives in his search" He concludes that in the film "the role of the archivist is crucial and powerful." [3]

The article by Ketelaar describes Nu as a "Jedi archivist", says that the film indicates the power of the archives. He asks if her claim that if something doesn't appear in records it doesn't exist is an overestimation or "typical for the dedicated professional who is so entirely taken up by her own world that external reality is rated lower than its internal representation". He further argues that Nu "suggests that the archived reality is part of the record" and notes that the Jedi archives is within a temple. Later in the article, he adds that "temples and churches convey by their architecture the idea of surveillance and power" and notes that search rooms of many archives are a panopticon, giving examples of the U.S. and U.K. National Archives, saying that researchers have to keep silent and are under "constant supervision" while researchers have a "minimum of privacy". [4] He concludes his article by saying that Nu is ensuring the archives are comprehensive, secure, and affirming her role in society. In that, she is fulfilling the societal expectation of archives: that they are secure places which store memories, while archivists use their power for empowering so that "society can be confident of the future". [5]

There a few other articles in The American Archivist which analyze Star Wars. One of those is an article in 2007 by Richard Pearce-Moses. He briefly mentions Attack of the Clones. He saying that with the rise of the Web and the the digital era, there will be "changes in public expectations for access to information". He goes onto argue that the attitude "if it’s not on the Web, it doesn’t exist" is a naive notion manifested in the film itself. He quotes a now-dead link to a Star Wars Databank entry for Nu, which states that she was so reliant on the data of the Jedi Archive that she "neglected to consider that perhaps the information could have been tampered with." [6]

While I understand what he is saying, it would be a stretch to say the computer systems of the Jedi Archives are like the internet. Its more like an intranet, as it can only be accessed within the archives and not outside of it. Neither of these reviews noted something interesting about Nu, as noted in the "expanded universe" part of that entry: that Nu had been Archives Director for 30 years, but is not a frontline warrior, and "in addition to serving as custodian of the records, she would prepare mission briefs for Jedi taskforces and Knights on assignment." I wish something like that had happened in the film. Something akin to that did happen in the animated series. In the Star Wars: The Clone Wars episode "The Lost One", Nu explains the records that the Jedi Archives has on Sifo-Dyas. [7]

© 2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Continued in part 2

Notes

[1] See Cross's articles "Tool of the Empire, Tool of the Rebellion: Star Wars and the Archive" on Pop Archives and "Page Turners, They Are Not: The Last Jedi and the Archives" in The American Archivist Reviews Portal. Also see Snoek-Brown's "The Jedi librarian", "The Jedi Librarian vs. Darth Vader", "A funny thing happened on the way to the Jedi library…", and "May the archives be with you | Shining the spotlight on the Jedi librarian" on Reel Librarians.

[2] Drake, Jarrett Martin (2021) "Blood at the Root," Journal of Contemporary Archival Studies: Vol. 8, Article 6, p. 2.

[3] Randall Jimerson; Embracing the Power of Archives. The American Archivist 1 January 2006; 69 (1): 20-21. doi: https://doi.org/10.17723/aarc.69.1.r0p75n2084055418.

[4] Ketelaar, Eric. (2002) "Archival temples, archival prisons: Modes of power and protection," Archival Science 2, p. 2, 8-9. The pages used her are in the PDF version on academia.edu, not those in the original article in Archival Science.

[5] Ibid, 10.

[6] Pearce-Moses, Richard. (2007). "Janus in Cyberspace: Archives on the Threshold of the Digital Era". The American Archivist 70 (1): 15.

[7] She also has a big role in the episode "Holocron Heist", a smaller role in the episodes "Lightsaber Lost" and "Assassin" as I noted in my post on the topic.

[stonewallsposts]

16 personalities questions: 16-18

Going through these in a more in-depth way gave me the idea that when I finish all these questions, I'm going to go back and use these answers to give more thoughtful responses to where I am on the spectrum of each statement. Then I'll plug those into the quiz and see if it gives me a different personality type than the ENFP-A that I originally got. As I mentioned, I was so closely in the middle that I had assumed I could probably take this on four different days and get four different responses. So it'll be interesting to see where I land after taking this much time to delve into where I fit. But given that I'm doing around three per day, it'll take 20 days total to finish it up, plus maybe another couple to settle Where on each statement's spectrum I fall.  

Anyway, on with the responses.  

16. You enjoy participating in group activities 

In general, yes. I call myself an outgoing introvert, meaning that I enjoy group activities, but eventually I have to get away and be by myself in order to recharge my batteries.  

But I do enjoy getting together with groups of people. 

One of my favorites over the years has been our holiday meetings at my brother-in-law's place. His place has become THE place where I can get together with both my sons. While I talk to my younger son regularly on the phone, and visit him a few times a year in Vegas, and I also get together regularly with my older son, about the only place I see them together is when we all meet for the holiday get-togethers at my brother-in-laws.  

But I love big get-togethers with friends and co-workers as well.  

I had mentioned in a previous section that we have a pretty social office atmosphere. When covid hit back in 2020, and everyone was working from home, my boss was not happy. Our IT guy stayed on premises the entire time. I came back after a month, and a few others came back quickly enough too. 

But as the time stretched on, and people stayed working at home, he was definitely missing the interaction. As we've hired on new people, one of the criteria has been finding someone who is willing to come in. I suppose that selection process has brought in people who are more comfortable socially, but for whatever reason, our office environment is filled with people who like the social aspect. So I love whenever we have parties or office lunches. We regularly gather to chat over things. 

I used to do this at church when I was in leadership, but not anymore. Though we still get together after drive-thru prayer for dinner. Or at least we did last year.  

Anyway, yes, I love group activities. 

17. You like books and movies that make you come up with your own interpretation of the ending 

I think I do. I'm trying to think of some movies or shows that have done this. It's not so much my own interpretation of the ending, but I certainly like shows that make me think. 

I was watching a Korean show called One Spring Night a while back. It's a love story between a young single father, whose ex-wife had deserted him, and an independent librarian who falls in love with him. 

The real hitch, in Korean society, is that he is a single father. Apparently that carries some sort of stigma. People figure there must have been something wrong with him to make his wife leave him, or maybe he just has bad 'juju' that caused the misfortune. Then there is a whole stigma about the woman getting involved with him because she would have to raise a child that isn't her own, which again, is apparently a really big deal in Korean society. All this is complicated by the fact that the girl is in a long-term relationship with a guy who checks all the boxes for marriage material, but who she clearly doesn't connect with, and is feeling increasingly distant. 

When she does finally decide to end it, the boyfriend tries to override this by saying it's not just her decision to make. He goes behind her back to get her father's permission. And then the role of parents in their daughter's decision comes up. The perspective of how both guys match up on the list of marriage material comes into play. 

What made me think was that in the show, this is portrayed as societal pressure. But I was recognizing that here, some of these same pressures are being applied by women on themselves. For example the list of qualifications that many women judge potential mates by, is essentially the same as those employed by the Korean parents. Of course self-imposed restrictions are always more acceptable than those placed on you from outside, so there is that, but at any rate, there was a lot that I found interesting in that show. The role of society and the honor/shame culture that makes it so difficult to go against the grain. 

Another movie that made me think was Munich. The story is about the PLO's killing of Israeli athletes at the 72 Munich Olympics and the subsequent retaliations. The Israeli's decide to retaliate with a series of public executions of the responsible palestinians, with the stated goal that "the world will understand that killing Jews will be an expensive proposition." But then the palestinians begin to hunt the Mossad agents as well and exact even more revenge. The entire scenario brings up questions about following orders blindly, the moral questions involved in doing so. And in particular, it made me think of the Jews entering the promised land and needing to execute the people living there. We know from reading the Bible, that the Lord was finished with the people living in the land, and that they had been given ample time to repent, but hadn't. This judgment was on them for their sins. But the individuals that had to go into those cities and hack down man, woman, and child, didn't have that luxury. They didn't know what the history was, they were merely being told to follow this order, and that if they didn't, there would retribution not only on their heads, but on the entire congregation. That's not an easy thing to swallow. 

I remember the charge that the Israelites gave Joshua- We will listen to you, but only be sure that you are following the Lord.  

There have been a lot of developments over the last 100 years with regard to this. The classic Nazi defense at the Nuremburg trials was that they were 'just following orders'. They had no choice.  

This was overruled in that the sheer moral horror of the acts should have been understood as immoral, regardless of the command structure, and they had, as human beings, a moral obligation to not follow those orders. 

So would I, as a believer, follow an order from God to kill another human? There are all kinds of questions that pop up, I know, but these are the questions that the movie confronted.  

Anyway, yes, I do like books and movies that make me think. The specific statement- do I like such that make me "come up with my own interpretation of the ending"…. I'm not sure I can think of a particular book or movie that has made me do that. 

Perhaps some of the Italian movies, which don’t seem to have 'endings' per se. Their modus operandi seems to be to show a slice of life. Things happen and then the end of portraying the events comes, but there doesn't seem to be a resolution. American movies like to tie things up. Italian movies don't. I guess that's more true to life, but it also doesn't feel as satisfying.  

I'm not sure if this is the kind of thing they are talking about with finding my own interpretation. I decide to google this very thing. Some of the movies they listed, that I had seen were Lost in Translation, Total Recall, Gone Girl, Inception, Blade Runner, the Graduate, and the Prestige. I liked all those movies, so I suppose I do.  

18. Your happiness comes more from helping others accomplish things than your own accomplishments 

Interesting statement. I do love helping other people, and the times I'm most satisfied with in my life have been when helping others. We took in a friend from church who was essentially homeless and kept her dog for 5 months, and then she too stayed with us off and on until she got her own place again. Because of that, we ended up having another lady we knew stay with us for 15 months. She was homeless at the time, and without our help, I'm sure she would have been permanently homeless. She is now back on her feet and doing well. Those were difficult days, but at the same time, some of the things I'm proudest of. Any of the people I've prayed for, and spent time helping, those are moments I wouldn’t trade and I've found them the most satisfying in my life.  

So I suppose that my happiness does come more from helping others, but then again, I wouldn’t be in a position to help them had I not accomplished things on my own too. Or at least it seems that way to me. Perhaps the Lord would have blessed me enough to give out, even had I not been working towards my own accomplishments. 

Back around 2005 or so, I had the opportunity to go to work for Cartoon Network. I was doing freelance work for them on the Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends show, and several of the guys that had been at our studio, had moved on to work full time for CN. I was offered the chance, but chose to remain freelance so that I could continue to devote more time to the ministry work I had been doing. Several of the guys have gone on to better careers because of that move. My freelance work eventually dwindled until I had to give it up altogether and move where I am now. 

I don't know if I would have had a better, more fulfilling work career, but I certainly wouldn't have had as many ministry opportunities as I did. So I have made specific decisions in my life because I wanted to serve others more than myself.  

In the last four years, after having been blessed with more financial stability, I've often wondered if I should have quit freelance earlier and gotten a job. Perhaps I would have been making more, and I certainly would have been in a better financial position, but I'm happy now, I was happy then, so I suppose, while we can always second-guess our decisions, I'm not going to. I'm just going to be content in the circumstances I find myself in and let it be. 

And since the statement was particularly directed towards not just helping others in general, but helping others "accomplish things", maybe I should try to address that as well. I do, when I have the chance, like to see others succeed. I'm not jealous of others accomplishments, I don't get envious when other people are given accolades or recognition. I will offer help to just about anyone that asks me... at least if I know them already. I'm not gonna hand out money to solicitations on the street. But if a friend, or co-worker needs a hand, I'm usually up to help as much as I can. 

The answer to the question then is yes, my happiness comes more from helping others. 

[hopeshoodie]

Why is your user hopeshoodie? I liked bublybabynails better

LOL I definitely lost a lot of 'brand recognition' or whatever when I changed it, but bubblybabynailpolish was just too long and too obscure. Conversely, I could talk about the hoodie scene for hours.

I'm obsessed with how Noah and Hope interact and treat themselves and each other, in that scene (and the baby scene) specifically.

Ok first of all I love how MC’s only tangentially involved, we hear Noah and Hope arguing off screen, we see people’s reactions to that, but MC isn’t involved until after they’re done arguing. It’s a really organic way to incorporate conflict, because other things like Shannon/Jo fighting or Lottie/Priya fighting it feels like MC is thrust into it and doesn’t have a reason to be involved.

But we get to play the aftermath of the hoodie fight. We get to have both Hope and Noah confide in us about how they’re actually feeling. And how they’re feeling is so nuanced and realistic, I love it. Hope is overwhelmed because she feels beholden to Noah.

Her pride (she told all the girls she didn’t want a short-term fling and clearly has a chip on her shoulder from men not treating her how she deserves)

her fear (about being in the game without a clear couple and clear desire to do well in the game)

her social pressure (everyone keeps reinforcing that Nope is such a good couple and she wants to keep that façade)

her genuine interest in Noah and enjoyment of the domesticity and intimacy he provides

On top of all of that, she later acknowledges she has a temper and it’s clear in the game that she’s having a hard time dealing with the stress of competition and anger at Noah. Instead of productively working on that (which like… who would even be able to do that in the villa), she scolds and yells at Noah. Then when shuts down in reaction to that and leaves the situation, that further incenses her. It’s not right, but it’s real. She’s not a bad person, but chasing Noah down to continue yelling at him is clearly a bad thing to do.

Besides that, they clearly have physical attraction, but Noah fundamentally isn’t what Hope wants. She loves how he’s comfortable in his masculinity and that he dotes on her, but she also wants someone who a bit of austerity to them. Noah’s a librarian who’s into fandoms, he lacks that machismo that she wants. And she wants someone who will match her career driven and social lifestyle, while he’s outspoken about wanting a family and being fine with where his career is. So there’s frustration on her end of wanting Noah (and to a certain extent expecting him) to be this suave, ambitious man that he’s not, but still liking him.

And that’s all been building up, and they have been since day 2. Hope and Noah vacillate wildly from being intensely domestic and intimate, to antagonizing each other, and I think that’s all because they just don’t know each other super well and neither are super satisfied with the relationship.

And Noah's not 100% satisfied in a relationship with Hope either

Noah’s a people pleaser without a backbone, and while he clearly enjoys Hope’s romantic overtures, he doesn’t want to put in the work to address her insecurity or to communicate with her. He's subject to all the same external pressures, but then add on top of that him being so nonconfrontational and he's paralyzed.

She does have a temper, and that clearly puts him off. Instead of communicating that to her or working on it, he pretends it doesn’t happen afterwards and when he’s in the moment he’ll run away or shut down. If his reaction to MC pointing out he’s being unfair to both Priya and Hope is anything to go off on, I imagine there’s quite a bit of gaslighting and blame shifting on his end too.

To a lesser extent than her, he also wants her to be someone different than she is. His “ladylike” comment and surprise at the mean tweets challenges belies that he thinks  and wants Hope to be this bubbly, supportive, decorous woman that would be a good mother and wife.

So these two are simultaneously reckoning with how they might not be happy in this relationship, and it comes to a head in the SHITTIEST way possible. I love their argument.

Hope's overwhelmed and getting upset about things that don't matter (her hoodie string being pulled out). Noah, being a poor interpersonal communicator and only focusing on the small details he can fix, belittles her by saying he'll buy a new one. She interprets that he's calling her shallow (which in a way he is), then retaliates by making a classist comment back at him. As the fight escalates from there, they're both arguing about things other than what they're actually saying and separate from the other's grievances.

I'm just obsessed with the scene of MC talking to Hope afterward. She has such clarify and self possession that she's unable to have in moments of heated emotion, and I love how she lays out everything that's bothering her to me, her bestie, but can't do it for Noah. It really shows that MC/Hope have built this mutually supportive and open communication that Noah/Hope have not fostered together.

And then Noah being a doofus and fixing the string is v cute and misguided, and I love that they're both working towards fixing it, even when they're not together.

Hope and Noah are the most interesting part of LITG, idc what anyone says. They're just so fundamentally wrong for each other but try so hard despite it, and make each other miserable in the process.

[moosoobi]

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me) 

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators) 

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc. 

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect 

     The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment. 

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

     Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

     Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now. 

     But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N. 

     I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations 

     As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color. 

I don’t think you understand

     She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know. 

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face. 

      I was staring? Again?

     I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

     I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork. 

     James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York. 

     We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

     Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for 

Hey, can I sit here?

     I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

     She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

     Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

     Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that. 

---

     Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework” 

     Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

     She playfully smacks my arm

---

     Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it. 

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

      James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James” 

      I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark” 

     James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

     To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?” 

     My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

     Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car. 

     For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway. 

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie” 

     Reality starts to set back into my head. 

“Right, lets dip.” 

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

     Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

     Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

     Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

     1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

     2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

     And finally,

     3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

 “..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook. 

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

     It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

     Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

     Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session? 

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

     Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-” 

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal 

     Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

     It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese. 

     My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

     My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone. 

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

     I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply. 

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it? 

     Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

     I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

     James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

     Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

     Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

     James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

     Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach. 

     Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

     That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

     I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

     Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

     I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

     Stubborn. As. Fuck.

     I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

     All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

     Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

     It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

     I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

     I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

     What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

     When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

     Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

     She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

     Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

     I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

     And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

     Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

     One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

     From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

     But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

     Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

     She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her. 

     We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover. 

     She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

     Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

     Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

     Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

     7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

     the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer 

     the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t. 

     As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

     Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

     I’ll prove James and Angie wrong. 

     Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

     Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

     Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I. 

     I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it. 

     This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes. 

     I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with: 

“I told you so” 

     His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying. 

     I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

     But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner. 

     She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down. 

     As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her. 

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

     Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

     Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

     I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

     Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

     I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

     I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

     I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

     Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

     Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

     There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

     And that was the end of it.

     My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

     And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’: 

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

     After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind. 

     If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy. 

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

     Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

     Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

     Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

     I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.  

...

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light. 

     Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman. 

     And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion. 

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--” 

     I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”  

     Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

--- 

     And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process. 

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke. 

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ” 

     Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives? 

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way” 

     I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth 

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder 

     Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem 

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

    I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got. 

     I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans. 

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly 

     I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response 

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously 

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed 

     She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know” 

     She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there. 

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber. 

“See you in the mornin’..” 

---

     I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming. 

     My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am. 

And that explanation. 

     I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now. 

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment? 

     He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous. 

Thomas: bet. 

     I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it. 

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery. 

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want...  25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 1

November 15-19th, Part 1

DeeDee Chabert put her pencil down, closed her notebooks, and checked the time. 3pm flashed across the face of her smart watch reminding her that she had one hour until she needed to be at work. Removing her glasses, she pinched the bridge of her nose before rolling the tightness from her shoulders, arms and neck. 

DeeDee sighed at the familiar bookshelves in front and back of her. She was at her favorite table in the back of the John B. Cade Library right next to all the science books. She wanted to make sure she was ready to present the defense of her dissertation and had just finished up some notes. 

DeeDee knocked over a few books when she stood to continue her stretch. She leaned down to pick them up, almost dropping the top book. She caught the hardbound cover and something fell out onto the floor. DeeDee put all the books back onto the table and then squatted down to pick up the slip of paper. 

She took her seat again and looked at the note in her hand. It’s folded in half and rough around the edges like someone ripped it out of a spiral notebook. DeeDee opened the page and after turning it right-side up, she saw multiple chemical formulas written in the neatest penmanship she had ever seen. As she glanced at the formula compounds, she noticed a short note in the center. 

LaSTiNLuV - My parents had it, that real deal, until the end of time type shit. The kind that those r&b niggas used to sing about and I want that. Honestly, I hope to find it for myself one day. I know she is out there. And I hope that I will recognize her, but also that I will be deserving of her love. _E.S.

DeeDee tried to decipher the first word of the note. She quietly laughed when she realized the person used chemical elements to write a completely different word. Referring to the periodic table of the book the note came from, she worked to interpret it.

“Lanthanum, Sulfur, Titanium, Nitrogen, Lutetium, and Vanadium equals La S Ti N Lu V.” She looked at the note again, “Lasting Love?”

DeeDee recognized the other ‘formulas’ on the page as other chemical elements put together to form words or phrases but not actual chemical compounds. There are two other such groupings on the page of the note. In the upper right-hand corner, DeeDee saw ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’ and in a much smaller font scrawled at the bottom left of the page was ‘IAmHeRe.’ She deciphered the other two before setting the note and her pad of paper to the side. 

“I Am Here. My Heart And Soul. Lasting Love.” That is what the person who wrote the note wanted to find, a love like their parents have or had. Taking a deep breath, she spoke aloud and laughed, “Shoot, aren’t we all?” DeeDee apologized when she heard various shushes from the bookstacks around her. 

Looking at her watch, it was time to go. She folded up the note and instead of returning it to the chemistry book, she put it in her folder. Grabbing all her items, she left the library to make the drive to her job. 

---

DeeDee needed to tell someone about what she found because it was the only thing she could think about all night. She called up her two best friends, Beverly and Phyllis, to get together for lunch the next day. They are her oldest and dearest friends, so they would understand her excitement about it.

Beverly and Phyllis are seated at the table when DeeDee arrived. They both stood to hug her before everyone took their seats. The waiter took their drink orders before leaving to give them time to decide on their entrees. 

“Ok, so what was so important that you just had to see us?” Phyllis rushed out from across the table. Always straight to the point.

“Right, we thought you would be locked up with your books for the rest of the year before we saw our best friend again.” Beverly leaned forward with both elbows on the table.

“I mean, Thanksgiving is right around the corner. And you know I can eat.” DeeDee responds, “You would have seen me before the end of the month.” 

They all laughed at DeeDee’s remark, calming down only when they saw their waiter approach the table. He set down their sweet tea and then took their order. 

“Ok, so I was at the library last night and I found something.”

“Look, if it wasn’t dick then I don’t want to hear about it.” Phyllis rolled her eyes before sipping her drink. 

“Phyll, stop that and let the girl speak.” Beverly bumped Phyllis’ shoulder, “Go on DeeDee, don’t mind her.”

“As I was saying, I found something while I was studying last night.” DeeDee pulled out the note. “This fell out of one of the books and it is very interesting.”

Phyllis took the note while Beverly looked at it from over her shoulder. She squinted her eyes at it before handing it over to Beverly, who just set it down on the table. 

“DeeDee, you know we can’t read that. We are not fluent in the chemical language.” Beverly pushed it back towards DeeDee. 

“Look at the center. I’ll explain the rest.” DeeDee slid the note back over to them. 

Beverly and Phyllis took a second look before looking back at DeeDee. 

“Is this for real?” Phyllis asked. 

“I think so.” 

“Ok, so then what do the hieroglyphics say?” Beverly set the note down in the center of the table.

DeeDee rolled her eyes at her friend’s remark, “The one in front of the note says Lasting Love. The word up here in the corner says My Heart and Soul. And this little thing down at the bottom says I Am Here.” 

“And you think this is real?” Beverly repeated Phyllis’ question.

“Well, it does have some initials after it. So, why wouldn’t it be?” DeeDee took a sip of her tea.

“Note in a chemistry book? Probably some virgin who needs to get laid.” Phyllis nodded at Beverly and the two of them started to laugh. 

“But what if… you know what, nevermind.” DeeDee grabbed the note and folded it back up into her small notebook. 

Just then, the waiter arrived with their food. All conversation stopped until he walked away again.

Beverly looked over at Phyllis before addressing DeeDee, “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know, I guess I am just curious about the author of the note.” DeeDee shrugged, “Like who would write something like this, hoping for a lasting love like their parents and then leave it in a book?”

“I already answered that.” Phyllis said before taking a bite of her salad.

“I’m serious, Phyll.” DeeDee spoke as she plucked a fry off her plate. 

“Ok, so what if it is a student here. Then what? What are you going to do?” Phyllis spoke as she waved her fork in the air.

“I don’t know. I guess I would have to find them first and decide for myself.” DeeDee shrugged.

“But what if an ugly guy wrote this?” Beverly cringed at the thought. 

“Bev, you already know it. Someone with his head so far in the books he doesn’t know anything else.” Phyllis shoulder checked Beverly and glanced over at DeeDee, “Just like someone else we know.”

DeeDee blankly stared in their direction. While everyone makes fun of her for always studying and not having any kind of personal life, they have no idea of the closet romantic hidden inside of her. She loves love, but never looked or hoped for it like this guy. No, an ugly person would not write about something as sweet and genuine as this. DeeDee did not believe that for a second.

“He sounds like a great guy. I mean he spoke of knowing that she is out there and hoping to be worthy of her. How sweet is that?” Her eyes sparkled as she recalled the words now embedded in her head.

“Really?” Phyllis shook her head as DeeDee nodded hers, “Well, now you know what you gotta do. You gotta find out who wrote that.”

Beverly claps her hands together in excitement as DeeDee’s face fell.

“What? No. I don’t think --,” DeeDee sputtered. She cleared her throat and started again, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Yes, you can. If anyone can figure out who wrote that note and left it there -- last week, last month, last year; it’s you.” Beverly spoke up. 

“You guys really think that I should do this?”

“Yes!” Both answer together. 

“Ok, then, I guess it’s time to find out who this E.S. is?” DeeDee and her friends shared a smile. 

---

DeeDee slowly walked into the library and headed straight to the circulation desk. She couldn’t believe that she allowed her friends to talk her into doing this. Holding her notebook in a death grip, she reached her favorite librarian, working the front desk.

“Hey DeeDee. What brings you in today?” Ms. Jacobsen asks her. 

“Hi Ms. Jacobsen. I actually have a huge favor to ask.” DeeDee says. “I found some notes in one of the books I had out the other day. Do you think you can tell me who last checked out the book?”

Ms. Jacobsen peeked past DeeDee, slowly turning around in her chair while surveying the first floor of the library, before she looked back at her. She stood up and moved to another computer on her left, signaling for DeeDee to follow her. 

“I know that you only want to return those notes to the rightful owner, so I can do this one favor for you.” Ms. Jacobsen finally answered. “So, what is the name of the book that you checked out?” 

“It was ‘Elements of Molecular and Biomolecular Electrochemistry’ by Saveant and Costentin.” DeeDee responded. 

DeeDee set down the notebook and attentively watched as Ms. Jacobsen started tapping away on the keyboard. She decided that watching Ms. Jacobsen was making her more nervous than kind of fibbing to the woman. No need to get her hopes up, if nothing came from the search for her mystery man. 

‘Her mystery man?’ Where did that even come from? She knew nothing about him except that at some point he felt it necessary to put these very words to paper. The man could be married with children or a complete psycho. DeeDee closed her eyes, trying to relax. If Ms. Jacobsen doesn’t give her a name, then she can drop this whole thing and focus on her next career move.

DeeDee looked up when she heard Ms. Jacobsen sigh loudly. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t think you will find them on campus.” Ms. Jacobsen huffed out and then lifted her glasses to her face. “It has been 10 years since that book was checked out.”

DeeDee rapidly blinked at the information. “10 years?” She screeched at the older woman. 

“Yes, honey.” Ms. Jacobsen nodded and turned the computer screen towards DeeDee. “By one, Erik Stevens.”   

DeeDee tried to hide her smile. The mystery man has a name. 

“Erik Stevens.” DeeDee said his name out loud, then took a deep breath. “Ok. Well, thank you, Ms. Jacobsen. I’ll talk to you later.” DeeDee waved to her before walking past the desk towards her study space in the back. 

DeeDee dropped her things on the table before getting out her laptop. She opened a new browser and pulled up the school’s website. When DeeDee searched Erik Stevens, the first result was an article titled ‘Computer Science and Chemistry Majors share the 2010 Graduate Student of the Year title’. On the front page was a picture of the winners. 

“Computer Science, huh? Then what did he need with that book?” DeeDee mumbled while typing in her next search for the Computer Science department. She wrote down what she needed and put her laptop away. 

---

DeeDee entered the classroom during the meeting and took a seat in the back until it was over. When the room cleared out, she walked over to the faculty advisor standing at the front of the room wiping off the board. 

“Excuse me, I wanted to ask about a former student of this department.” DeeDee asked in a shaky voice.

“It depends on what you want to ask me.” The faculty member replied, setting down the eraser. 

“He won Graduate Student of the Year in --” 

“Oh, you mean Erik Stevens?” The professor laughed while DeeDee looked on in confusion, “Now him, I can talk about. Come with me.” She waved for DeeDee to follow.

They walked into the office next door, and the professor pointed out a chair for DeeDee to sit. 

“My name is Sheila Giacomo. I actually had the pleasure of teaching and mentoring Erik while he was here. So, what do you want to know?” 

“How did you know I was talking about Erik? I never even said his name.” DeeDee finally spoke again. 

“You said he won Grad Student of the Year. Only one student has ever won that honor during my whole tenure in this department.” Sheila answered. 

“I was wondering what you can tell me about him.”

Sheila sat back in her desk chair. “Mr. Stevens was not your typical ‘head in the books’ student, like most would expect from any kind of science major. He was a very inquisitive, reserved and athletic young man, but when you put numbers and tech in front of him, it was almost magical how he came alive.”

“What year did he graduate from Southern?” 

“With his master’s, the same year he won the award. I think that was 2010. After that, I heard he moved back home to California.”

“Do you know what brought him to Southern?”

“Something about his family and legacy, but I never found out what.” Sheila straightened up and looked at DeeDee. “Are you writing a story about him?”

“Ummmm no, I came across a paper he wrote and figured he might still be on campus or something.” DeeDee stood up, “I didn’t mean to bother you, but thank you for sharing.”

“It’s no problem. And if you are still looking for information, you may want to reach out to the other winner from that year.” Sheila stood and walked DeeDee to the door, “They were good friends and collaborated on the project that earned them the honor.” 

“Thanks again for everything, Sheila.” DeeDee waved and left the office. 

As she walked away, DeeDee looked down at the other information on her notepad from her earlier search. Marquis Oubre was the name of the other student who won with Erik Stevens. She continued her walk to her car, prepared to head home. There will be plenty of time to talk to Mr. Oubre.

@teakturn​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shaekingshitup​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

[inkslingersworld]

Zusammen: Part IX

Link to all parts here.

Kagami was not someone who gave up easily, and she wasn’t about to give up on searching for Adrien’s mother just because they hadn’t discovered anything yet, but she found the lack of clues difficult to tolerate. She and Adrien had already covered three days of Emilie’s last week in Paris to no avail - the filming location of what would’ve been her fourth motion picture, the grocery store she’d visited on the Monday before she vanished, the hairdresser, the Louvre, and so on. They were now retracing Emilie’s steps on the Tuesday before her disappearance, which had taken place on Friday of the same week, and Adrien and Kagami still hadn’t uncovered any useful information. However, Kagami was still enjoying herself - she liked walking through the city with Adrien.

“Okay,” said Adrien, trying to sound optimistic as they exited the jewelry store, “I will admit, this isn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped, but there are still plenty of places that could connect to Mother’s disappearance. It’s only the first day of our investigation.”

“I totally agree,” put in Kagami. “I am getting a bit hungry, though.”

They took a fifteen-minute break to pick up some lunch; with both of their energy and morale levels low, the sandwiches tasted extra good. Once they were finished, Adrien and Kagami discussed how best to proceed.

“Our current approach is working, it’s just that we haven’t found anything yet,” Adrien said.

“Yeah,” acknowledged Kagami. “I think we’re just gonna have to keep patient.”

“Well, it says here that the library’s next,” said Adrien, looking at Emilie’s personal organizer. “We’re pretty close.”

“I’ll say,” Kagami laughed. “It’s literally across the street.”

Adrien turned to the large marble-clad fortress just ahead of them.

“Huh,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “I guess you’re right.”

===========

The inside of the library was vast; bookshelves upon bookshelves stretched across the area, each of them brimmed with volumes of every kind. The help desk looked like a tiny island in the midst of it all, though the librarian didn’t seem to care. She didn’t make any reaction to her surroundings until Adrien and Kagami walked up to her.

“Ah,” she murmured ominously, eyeing the two teenagers from behind a giant tower of books. “I’ve seen you before.”

She pointed a crooked finger at Adrien, making him squirm a little.

“Uh-huh,” said Kagami dismissively, trying to prevent her boyfriend from growing uncomfortable. “We’re wondering if you have the check-out records on hand.”

“May I ask why?” questioned the librarian suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re part of an investigation looking into the disappearance of Emilie Agreste,” explained Kagami. “We need to see which books she checked out on Tuesday, May 16 - if she checked out any books.”

“Fine by me,” the librarian drawled. “Do you have Mrs. Agreste’s library card at hand?”

Adrien pulled the card from his pocket and slid it across the desk to the librarian. She picked it up gingerly.

“Wait here.”

Adrien and Kagami watched the librarian shuffle away down one of the canyons of bookshelves. She returned less than five minutes later, a stack of files in her arms, with the library card rested on top.

“These are the complete records of each library book Emilie Agreste ever checked out,” the librarian told them, setting the files down and handing the library card back to Adrien. “She wasn’t a member of the Parisian Public Library System for very long; only for a couple months, in fact. I don’t think she ever really needed to be a member, with her mansion boasting its own library.”

“Thank you,” said Kagami and Adrien at the same time. The librarian smiled slightly.

As they walked off to a nearby table, Adrien asked, “How long do you think this’ll take?”

“Not very long,” Kagami responded shortly. “I doubt that Moreau’s murderer would hang around a public area, so I believe we’ll be safe splitting up inside the building. We don’t need to read the books cover to cover, just flip through them in case your mother left bookmarks or notes or whatever.”

It became apparent that their search would take even less time than Kagami had speculated. Emilie hadn’t checked out a lot of books; Adrien speculated that she only came here for publications not stocked at the mansion’s library. The books varied widely, from acting methods and obscure moments of the country’s past to rare amphibian species and child psychology. It was nearing four o’clock by the time Adrien and Kagami reconvened.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” asked Adrien.

Kagami shrugged. “I found out your mother read a good portion of Joris-Karl Huysmans, but that’s about it.”

Adrien sighed. “How many more books did she check out?”

Kagami looked down at the last remaining unopened file. “Two. The first one’s called Interpreter of Maladies. My mother’s read the Braille version and she told me it was brilliant - that’s high praise coming from the woman who literally tossed Harry Potter in the garbage.”

“Which book?!” Adrien asked, feeling outraged.

“Prisoner of Azkaban,” said Kagami regretfully. “She read the first few pages and just threw it in the trash can - and that’s luxury treatment compared to what she did with Order of the Phoenix. You don’t even wanna know.”

“Good lord, it’s fine she didn’t like them, but at least treat the physical book with a bit respect!” exclaimed Adrien. “Max doesn’t like them either, but you don’t see him chucking them out along with table scraps and whatnot!”

It took a bottle of water and several deep breaths for Adrien to regain control of himself, by which time it was four-thirty. They both knew that in order to remain within the guidelines Inspector Beaumont had set for them, they’d need to get back home within an hour.

“Sorry about that,” Adrien apologized, panting a little. “I got a little carried away. What’s the last book my mother checked out?”

“Let’s see,” said Kagami, flipping the file back open again. “The last book your mother checked out before she disappeared is called -”

Her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?” asked Adrien worriedly. “Which book is it?”

Kagami stared at him fearfully. “It’s called Eternally Intertwined: The Connections Between Magic and Human Emotions.”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. For him, the connections between magic and human emotions only related to one thing - Hawk Moth.

“Are... are you positive?” he gulped.

Kagami handed the file over to him. Sure enough, the title she’d just relayed to him was staring him in the face. Right as his eyes finished crossing over the words, Adrien clapped the file shut and strode over to the help desk, Kagami trotting behind him.

“Excuse me?” he asked the librarian, who’d stopped eating her salad to give Adrien her full attention. “I was wondering what you could tell me about this book.”

He placed the file down and tapped the ink with his finger. The librarian made a confused expression.

“Eternally Intertwined: The Connections Between Magic and Human Emotions? I have never heard of such a book,” the librarian admitted. “I’m sure it’s in the catalogue somewhere, though. Let me go check.”

She trundled down a hallway didn’t return until fifteen minutes had passed. The librarian sat back down and turned to Adrien and Kagami.

“Well, I think I’ve just discovered something of use to you,” she said, taking a bite of salad. “Eternally Intertwined was a recent publication back when Emilie Agreste checked it out. It wasn’t in wide circulation; the author, Madeleine Archambault, was a folklorist whose work had been repeatedly discredited for its alleged inaccuracies. Therefore, not many publishing companies were eager to accept her manuscripts. However, Archambault was able to convince a small, local press to give her a contract, entitling her to around ten thousand euros for a dozen books.”

“That’s it?” asked Adrien in surprise. His father had told him before that already published authors usually received more than twice that amount on one book.

“It wasn’t much,” continued the librarian, “but Archambault was desperate for work. She was able to get Eternally Intertwined published in the spring of that year. We only had a single copy in the library system; Emilie Agreste remains the only person to’ve checked it out.”

“How come?” Kagami asked. “It’s been five years since then, surely someone would’ve taken an interest in a book covering that kind of subject matter.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, thinking of Hawk Moth.

“I see where you’re coming from,” said the librarian, “but Eternally Intertwined was a commercial and critical flop. Critics panned it for resembling her previous work, which they said lacked backing evidence. The press Archambault had convinced to publish it rescinded her contract and she hasn’t produced any piece of writing since. Last time anyone had heard from her, she’d been working on a documentary in Alsace.”

She took another bite of her salad before saying, “Even if it’d been a success, no one would’ve checked it out, on account of it not being returned.”

“It wasn’t returned?” said Adrien in surprise.

The librarian shook her head. “Emilie Agreste never got the chance to give it back before she disappeared. But not to worry - Eternally Intertwined included Archambault’s watercolor pictures of objects mentioned in the text, and we have prints of some of those pictures in stock.”

She pointed to a thick roll of parchment paper that Adrien hadn’t noticed. Without a word, he picked it up and brought it to his and Kagami’s table, unrolling it hastily. The watercolor he saw first confirmed his fears.

It depicted two butterflies. One was pure white, the other was black and purple. Beneath the watercolor was a single word.

Akuma.

[catsafarithewriter]

The Disappearance of Haru Yoshioka (Part 7)

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [fini]

x

There is more than just one manga, they discover. 

They vary in plot, but not in theme - in so many, it is of the ordinary discovering the extraordinary and fighting to get back home. A girl unlucky in love who trades her face for a feline mask and almost loses her humanity in the process. A young writer who stumbles into a cat library looking for inspiration and forgets herself. A boyfriend who tries on borrowed wings and becomes trapped in an avian form he cannot shed.  

Birds and cats and Creations. And always, always on the edge of forgetting. The tales spin round and round as if trying to describe a half-remembered dream that is never quite correct.

Sometimes Duke is there. 

He navigates this fictional realm on the edge of normality, skirting the shoreline with uncanny ease and pulling people back from the line they won’t be able to return from. Baron seems to be flattered by the interpretation, for whenever Duke appears, the reader can be sure that all will be well. 

He doesn’t see the way that Duke only ever appears just as the human has wondered nearly too far, stayed almost too long, strayed just to the edge of no return. He doesn’t see the way that Duke heralds danger just as much as he promises safety. 

But Toto does. 

The worlds that the manga show are ones of wonder and delight and beauty, but they are also ones of warning. Of the danger of forgetting oneself or running from your life instead of facing it. They are testaments that the spirit world is many things, but for humans is not one of them.

And Duke is as much a part of that as anything else in the worlds.

x

So Toto does not know what to expect when they track down this Haru Ikewaki. 

Certainly he does not expect the beautiful little house on the edge of a quiet town, paired with a small garden filled with wildflowers. He does not expect the air of contentness that infuses the home, set to the tune of birdsong and gentle humming. He does not expect everything to feel so right. 

He lands on the low branches of a cherry tree, and Baron slides off his back. Further down, Muta scrabbles along the branch Toto had dropped him onto.  From their vantage point, they can see a slim silhouette moving through the kitchen.

“Is that her?” Muta grunts. “She seems so... ordinary.”

And Toto can’t bring himself to disagree. Even as she moves into the light, he finds himself almost... disappointed that there isn’t even a spark of recognition in him. The woman before him is in her mid-thirties, her brown hair tied back into a messy ponytail and a pencil tucked behind an ear. Maybe he was right. Maybe this isn’t the same Haru. 

And that’s when Baron drops his cane. 

x

He remembers. 

Baron remembers and the memories come flooding back in an ugly torrent of images and emotions and moments and he barely notices the cane as it slips from his grasp. 

He remembers. 

He remembers their first meeting, and he remembers the hours they spent together reading in happy silence. He remembers the visits to other worlds, showing her the dancing stars of one realm and the underwater rainbows of another. He remembers her disappearance and the months he spent tearing himself apart to find her again.  

He remembers forgetting her. 

“It’s her,” he whispers, and he looks to Toto. The expression he finds is one of pity and... something else? He doesn’t have time to deconstruct it, because Haru is there, she is alive and well and right before him. 

Toto places a wing before him before he can sweep into action. “She may not remember you,” he warns softly. “And you may not be able to change that.”

“I know,” he says, although in his heart he does not want to believe it. “But at least let me try.”

Toto watches him for a heartbeat longer, his eyes weary in that moment, and then nods and retracts his wing. “Just don’t get your hopes up too high,” he murmurs. 

Baron only smiles back and drops down onto the windowsill. 

He’s unsure how to announce his presence - whether to knock or to call out to her - but he hesitates too long and the choice is taken from him when she looks up from the coffee she’s making and sees him. 

They both freeze, Baron with one hand raised to the glass and her with the teaspoon of coffee in midair. 

She is the first to move. The coffee is lowered and she leans across the sink to hesitantly unlock the window latch. There is surprise in her eyes, confusion too - no recognition, but there is not quite the right amount of shock for someone who has never seen him before. “You,” she breathes, and her voice is the same as he remembers. “You’re real?”

He tips his hat in a motion he has done for her so many times before. “Indeed. My name is Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, and I believe I am a frequent visitor in your lovely stories.”

“Well, yes, but... I didn’t think you were... that is to say, I wasn’t aware...” She sits, suddenly, into a nearby chair. “I don’t understand how this can be, unless...” 

“This isn’t a dream.”

She laughs, sharply, as if being told an unexpected in-joke. “No, that I know. I know what my dreams are like and this... this is not one of them.” She leans forward, her eyes glittering in the sun and he wonders how he could have ever forgotten how they shine like gemstones. “Did I somehow write you into existence? Is this one of those ‘stories come alive’ kind of scenarios?”

Baron smiles. “Not exactly.” It seems Toto is right, that he alone carries the memories still - but there has to have been something once for her to tell stories of him so. Maybe he can bring them back. “Miss Haru, are you aware of us having met before?”

She shakes her head. “No. I... I always just thought you were a character I had made up. If I had known there was actually a... actually someone like you, I would have asked before using your likeness.”

“Indeed. It is quite the uncanny likeness.”

“Have we met before?”

He looks at her. Yes, he wants to say. Yes, and I’m sorry I ever made the mistake of letting you go. I’m sorry I forgot. I’m sorry it took so long for me to find you again. 

But he also sees the warm and loving house she sits in - a far cry from the small flat she rented when she worked as a librarian. He sees the framed covers of her successful manga. He sees the healthy glow of her skin and the brightness in her eyes that tiredness and long hours had stolen away from her in his timeline.

And then he sees the slim gold ring on her left hand and he realises that he may have had a part in her life before, but it is no longer that reality.   

“No,” he says. 

She is happy. 

And who is he to mess with that?

x

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [fini]

[icarus-suraki]

unusual asks: 4, 14, 37, 79

4. do you like your name? why? Ah ha ha ha, so I'm not going to tell my real name, but I'll say that my first, middle, and (probably obviously) last name are all family names. My first name isn't so bad, except that my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and a number of other relatives all have the same first name. It's really a family name on my mother's side. It's not a bad name, but it doesn't feel like my name because I've been called by my middle name all my life. With so many people with the same first name, it makes sense, right?

My middle name is...different. I mean, I'm a woman (though I'm a bit sloshy on that sometimes) but my middle name is a really old, slightly ugly-sounding name that's usually given to boys. It's a family name, formerly a surname--and since my family is undeniably Southern, we follow the good tradition of giving daughters family surnames that were "lost" in marriages. And that's how I, a girl, ended up going by a name that's basically on par with Cuthbert or Aethelrad or Gruffudd. It did not make my school-years easy, no.

And my last name is a strange spelling of a Dutch name--if it were English, it might be something like the surname "James" being spelled like "Jaymesse." We aren't quite sure how it came to us since we can only trace it back to one person. We know when and who he married, but we have no information about him before or after that. We know he was out of the picture when his wife was pregnant (whether he died or ran off or was kidnapped or something we don't know). His wife, at a loss as for what to do, went to her sister's house and lived with her sister and her sister's husband for a while. And then she named the baby after her sister's husband??? But with her own (now our) last name???? She was an interesting woman. But we just don't know much about the man who gave us our last name. There's some family conjecture that he might have been an Eastern European Jew and, when that came out, that was totally unacceptable to his wife and her family. So either she left him or he left her. Either way, we've still got the name. And now, whenever one of us with the name goes to Europe, we like to confuse the locals. (I think I got more of the British Isles genes, but my brother definitely got the Dutch genes because he looks like a damn Tour de France cyclist.)

Do I like my name? It's not the easiest to live with, but it's got a colorful past. So I don't always like it, but it's interesting, to say the least.

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? This is so hard to answer because it changes based on my mood and the season. Sometimes I'm like "I want to live somewhere tropical and warm in a house that almost doesn't need windows with long sheer curtains where I can be a hippie doing yoga and eating smoothie bowls up in the trees." And other times I'm like "Wouldn't it be interesting to live in Japan? Maybe Tokyo, but more like Kyoto and out in the suburbs. Or maybe out in the country, like a real Studio Ghibli place." France crosses my mind too, sometimes Paris, sometimes Provence, sometimes Normandy...

But I think, and this is probably pretty predictable, that the most aesthetically-comfortable place, to me, would probably be the Lake District in the UK.

Is the UK all that great in ever sense? No, for many reasons (Brexit is only one of them). But in terms of weather, wildlife, scenery, familiarity from children's picture books, I think it's got to be the Lake District (and environs).

It was one of the last places we visited when I did a summer abroad. We'd done London (exciting but such a city), we'd done Scotland (rather craggy and gray), we'd done Bath (I was sick as a dog so I can't make much of a judgement and would like to go back), we'd done Oxford (and I thought I was a snob, fuck me), we'd done Yorkshire (suddenly the grimness of the Bronte sisters makes sense)... And then we took this long bus ride northwards and up into the Lake District and it was such a...relief in a funny sense of the word. Trees! Fields! Foxgloves! Stiles over fences! Walking paths! Lovely cottages!

If I was appallingly rich, I'd find an old cottage to move into and live there and grow a cottage garden and probably have a Patterdale terrier named Toby or Tommy and take lots of walks.

The Cotswolds were a close second, as I recall, but not quite as much of a spiritual(?) relief.

37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? The greatest irony of being a librarian is that everyone thinks you read all the time but you often don't have enough time to read at all.

Some librarians manage to pull it off, but I don't. I've gotten picky about books as I've gotten older. I had to lead some book discussions at my libraries, so I've had to read some very boring books (in some cases the book was boring but I did understand why books like it would appeal to some people). And I just don't have the mental capacity to suffer through boring books if I don't have to. So, no, I don't read all that much--

--in terms of books, at least. I've found that I'll read zillions of articles: longform, shortform, magazine, newspaper, online... I've got a few websites for sources and I'll just kind of look around and then suddenly say, "Wait, what?" and find myself reading, say, a GQ article about two Mormon brothers accused of murdering their parents and the whole backstory of the situation. If you drop a longform article about Weird Shit in front of me, yeah, I'll probably read it.

Which actually makes me wonder if I might want to read more nonfiction at the moment. Hmmm........

But favorite book? Favorite favorite book? Fuck, I'm such a sucker for Ulysses. I know, everyone's like "it's dirty!" or "it's too hard to understand!" And that's cool. But for me, it reads rather like poetry to me, dirty bits and all. And I love it and it has saved my life a few times. James Joyce got me through my 20s, okay?

I had hoped to go to Ireland, and Dublin specifically, in the summer or fall of 2020. Obviously that didn't happen, lmao. But part of my idea was to research tattoo shops before I went and to get a line from the "Ithaca" chapter tattooed on me somewhere. The line is:

"The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit"

It's got to be one of my favorite lines in all of literature. T. S. Eliot has a couple of lines that are close seconds (it's almost time to read Ash Wednesday again and, hnnnngh, it's so good), but between the Eliot lines and the Joyce lines? Yeah, I'm going with the heaventree of stars.

I am a terrible person with a dirty mind. What can you do?

79. do you believe in ghosts? Most of the time I'm like: "Nah, I don't really believe in ghosts. It’d be kind of cool if they were real, right? But, nah, l don’t."

And then I'll watch some really good “real” ghost videos and it'll be about 11:30 at night and I'm immediately "I have changed my stance re: ghosts and I will be sleeping with the light on. Goodnight."

But generally speaking? As someone who has spent the night in a couple of supposedly haunted places? I guess I'm more in the "I want to believe" category. It'd be cool, wouldn't it? But I don't think it'll happen.

Now that said, I do still wonder about the Gray Man With The Hat that my mother and I have both seen on different occasions. It has to be something about how human brains understand certain things in certain situations (esp. related to light/shadow). We both wonder if it might be kind of like a "collective unconscious" situation, where something unfamiliar is interpreted as something familiar and then the brain puts that familiar "icon" (which is Pete Lorre in M, evidently?) over whatever the image the brain can't compute.

It's not directly related to ghosts in the typical sense, but I do have strong feelings about certain Jungian concepts (I have an aunt who's got some major Jungian background)--sometimes in a mystical way, sometimes in a more rational way. So I guess that's why I feel like I, personally, don't believe in ghosts as ghosts are generally viewed today. But I also think that people who say they've encountered ghosts shouldn't be dismissed immediately as wrong--they experienced something, I absolutely believe that, and it’s not fair or kind to dismiss them out of hand.

[let-it-raines]

it’s all an act (until it isn’t) {1/1}

High school drama teacher Killian Jones doesn’t have time for drama off the stage. He’s had enough of it in his life, and no part of him is searching for more. But then the day before his theater class’s modern day interpretation of a fairytale begins its four-week run, his two leads get sick. There are no understudies, no one to fill the roles, but as they say, the show must go on. 

With him in it, apparently. 

Having Emma Swan, the music teacher and woman who has avoided him since her first day of work at Storybrooke High, fill in as the starring role opposite him is the complete opposite of what he expected. 

Rating: Teen

A/N: Shoutout to @shireness-says and @wellhellotragic for giving me the prompts that make up the inspiration behind this story. You two are always bright spots of sunshine and deserve all of the cupcakes 🧁 in the world. I mean that very, very seriously. ❤️

And thank you to @captainsjedi for organizing @csseptembersunshine and making me get my butt in gear to finally write this story when I’d been struggling with my one-shots. 

Found on AO3: | Here |

Tag list: @kmomof4 @heavenlyjoycastle @tiganasummertree @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard

-/-

“Where the bloody hell are Ethan and Kate?”

Killian’s voice bellows over the stage, his words echoing off of the walls and seemingly disappearing into the void, which is what happens whenever he talks on some days. He’s got maybe five students who actively listen to him every single day, and every single one of those five are on a field trip to some kind of classical music concert that he did not give approval for. Granted, he’s only the drama teacher, but when they have the opening night of the play they’ve been practicing for coming up tomorrow, he kind of expects his students to be around.

Or to at least be asked if the field trip interferes with anything.

But was he asked? No, no of course he wasn’t. He’s never asked anything because on the school’s totem pole of important faculty, he is at the bottom with all of the other fine arts teachers, which is a damn shame. Reading and writing and arithmetic are important. No one knows this more than him, someone who has spent nearly all of his life in school even when he was in the Navy, but kids can’t be contained at a desk all day. They have to move or create art, whether that be painting, acting, or playing the damn piccolo. They have to be able to broaden their horizons and have an outlet for everything that they’re going through, so he thinks the drama department is pretty damn important.

As well as the art and music departments, even the physical education departments – and that’s not simply because he is also the track and field coach.

And yet, here he is unable to find his two leads for tomorrow, as well as most of his best students, and it’s all because Emma Swan didn’t bother to tell him that she was taking so many of his kids away to go to an all-day music festival outside of town the day before opening night.

Killian would bet that she did it on purpose.

Actually, he knows that she did.

Emma Swan is the bane of his existence. Never will he forget the day that she started at Storybrooke High three years ago. They’d pulled up into the teacher’s parking lot at the same time, and he’d seen her struggling to grab all of her bags and boxes of things, so he’d quickly slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward her, offering her both a smile and a hand. She’d accepted, a nervous smile on her face, her green eyes very obviously wary of him, and they’d walked in the front doors of the school together.

She was (is) gorgeous. There was no denying that, not that he ever has. She was all toned legs and arms in her red dress that contrasted well against the light, but not too pale, tone of her skin. Her smile was brightened by the red lipstick she was wearing, her full lips accentuated by it, and the blonde of her hair fell down her back in waves that he wanted to run his fingers through.

Obviously, he didn’t. There’s such a thing as human decency and sexual harassment, and he is nothing if not a gentleman (most of the time), but he did notice that she was simply a stunning woman.

The stunning Emma Swan.

There’d been small talk, of course, and he’d asked her about her new position here, what school she was coming from, follow up questions to all of that, and then offered his help for anything and everything that she might need while starting her new job. She’d smiled and said thank you, but then she’d easily navigated to her office, the one just outside of the music classroom and across the hall from his office and the auditorium where he spends his days, and shut the door in his face.

After that, he never quite cracked her code.

During lunch, she seems to have no issue talking to other teachers. She gladly chats with Belle, their librarian, Mary Margaret, the science teacher for grades nine and ten, and occasionally she can be seen talking with other teachers as well. Really, she’s so goddamn friendly with everyone that it makes absolutely zero sense for her to dislike him and not want to be friendly with him. Sure, he’s been disliked by many a woman before – bad dates and relationships and then once for taking the last carton of milk at the grocery store – but he’s always known why. He’s never been left in this state of confusion as to why he’s disliked.

Which is a shame because he quite fancies her from time to time when she’s not yelling at him for taking her students away from practice to work with him on stage or when she’s stealing his students for a last-minute fieldtrip to who knows where on the day of dress rehearsals.

Emma’s got this thing that she does during faculty meetings where whenever she disagrees with what’s being said, she scrunches up her nose and makes it wrinkle. He imagines that she wrinkles her nose when she thinks of him, most likely holding one of her many swan-themed coffee mugs that’s got a fifty-fifty shot of being filled with coffee with vanilla creamer or hot chocolate topped with loads of cinnamon. He can’t even begin to imagine how much she has to work out for how she eats. That, or she has the world’s greatest metabolism.

Damn her for making him notice these things and damn her for stealing his students.

“Seriously, guys,” Killian grumbles again, shifting the canopy bed prop that they rolled onto stage earlier this afternoon. His hands are full of callouses and most likely stained in paint for how much work he’s had to put into making the set. Liam and Elsa have come to the school or his apartment after they get off of work to help out with making sets, and he wonders just how he can repay them for going above and beyond when they already work far more often than him…and he feels like he never stops working. “Why aren’t you listening to me? Where are Kate and Ethan?”

Of the thirty teenagers that he still has with him today, two look up, and neither of them say anything, simply looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to make them talk. He loves all of these kids, and even though sometimes it’s hard to garner the attention of all of them, it’s usually much better than this.

He’s a damn good teacher. He can command a room, his five far-too-loyal students aside.

“Bloody hell,” he shouts, clapping his hands together so that the remaining twenty-eight heads look up at him with varying degrees of disgust. “I know that you guys don’t have a lot to do right now when we’re missing our leads, but that doesn’t mean you can just ignore me. Now will someone tell me where Kate and Ethan are? I know they’re not in music, so I know that they’re not on the field trip.”

His eyes scan over the group, looking for someone who’s going to crack, and he finally finds it in Ava.

“They’re sick, Mr. Jones,” she says quietly as her fingers twist around her braid. “That’s what Kate said when she texted me this morning.”

“Are they actually sick or are they skipping classes today while their parents think that they’re at school? And are they going to be better tomorrow?”

He’s met with silence once more until a deep laugh breaks out from Felix, a kid who is great at building sets but not so great at being a part of the team. Honestly, Killian has no idea why he’s even in this class when he could have chosen from several other electives. Deep down, he thinks it might be to torture Killian. Honestly. He’s only ninety percent sure that isn’t the reason he’s in the class.

Maybe eighty percent. It depends on the day.

“They have fucking mono, man,” Felix laughs, propping his feet up on the theater chair in front of him. “They’re not coming to class.”

“Language,” Killian says instinctively while his mind runs over the information he’s just been given. He’s a little loose with his curse words, but Americans seem to be a little more reserved with curses than he and all of his fellow Brits are so this is something he’s had to deal with while teaching in America. “What do you mean they have mono? How do you know this, but I don’t?”

“Group chat,” Felix answers noncommittally. “Ethan went to the doctor a couple days go, then Kate went, and they both got mono because they’re not just making out on stage, you know?”

Yes, he does know about the fact that the two leads in his play are dating. He didn’t when he cast them, but that also wouldn’t have mattered. He knows far too much about each of his students and their personal lives because for some reason, every bit of gossip happens while in this auditorium. The things that he’s heard while trying to paint a tree for set or while attempting to give an actual lesson where his students are supposed to take notes on the history of theater.

No part of him misses when he was a teenager. Every little thing feels like the most important thing, and he cannot imagine having to feel that way again.

“They have mono,” he repeats, testing out the words on his tongue all the while he tries to convince himself that this isn’t real. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. You haven’t gotten a note from their parents about it?”

Killian shakes his head before pulling his phone out of his back pocket, ignoring texts from his brother and his mates so that he can login to his school email. There are several messages that he sees that he needs to get to later all involving logistics for the show tomorrow night, and then he sees the emails Felix mentioned.

Bloody buggering fuck.

His leads are sick.

And they didn’t do any understudies because no one else was comfortable enough to sing on stage, and he figured that it’s just a high school play that the kids wanted to put on as a part of the class. It wasn’t a big deal.

Except for the fact that their principal told him that the ticket sales can all go toward fundraising for the drama department, and now he doesn’t have anyone to actually lead the play.

His students wanted to put on a modern-day fairytale, and all of these disasters happening at once make him think that he might very well be living in one.

If a modern-day fairytale is actually a nightmare.

-/-

Killian has been staring at his computer screen in his office for at least two hours when he hears the click of boots against the linoleum floor in the hallway outside of his office. It’s past six, everyone long gone, and he knows that it can only be one person walking out in the hallway.

Emma.

There’s a flash of long legs and blonde hair falling over a red leather jacket, and he’d recognize those three elements of her person anywhere. But as she’s walking into her office, across the hall from him, he definitely knows that it’s her. The fact that she leaves her door open and he can see her sitting at her desk certainly doesn’t help him forget.

How is she so beautiful and infuriating all at once?

“It’s rude to stare, Jones,” Emma shouts from her office like she does whenever they have these kinds of conversations.

He blinks up at her, unaware of how long exactly he has been staring at her. His head is pounding a ridiculous amount, and he wonders why the hell he ever left England and the Royal Navy just to come to America to teach high school drama and yell at kids to keep running around an asphalt track.

(Heartbreak, following his brother, et cetera.)

“It’s rude to take away my students the day before we have a show opening.”

“Their parents signed permission slips. I wasn’t aware I needed approval from you too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s common courtesy to at least let me know. Why isn’t there a school policy about that?”

He can’t quite see, but he knows that she’s rolling those green eyes of hers. She rises from her desk, and while he thinks she’s only getting up to close her office door, she doesn’t. Instead, she walks into the hallway and over to his office, leaning her shoulder up against his doorframe as she crosses her arms over her chest. When did she take her jacket off to leave her in a simple white sweater?

“You okay?” Emma asks, what sounds like genuine concern in her voice.

“Do you actually care?”

She scoffs, and he looks up at her again so that he can see the slightest twitching in her jaw along with a wrinkling of her nose.

“Believe it or not, I’m not a complete and total bitch. You look like you’re freaking out, and I’m genuinely concerned about that.”

“Ah well,” he sighs, reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he plasters a fake smile on his face, “you don’t have to worry about me, love. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re a liar is what you are.”

“How would you know?”

“For one, you have the worst poker face in the world, but I also have a little bit of a superpower in being able to tell when someone is lying.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. You don’t teach teenagers for six years without knowing how to tell someone is lying.” She steps further into the room and takes a seat in the cushioned chair that sits in the small space across from his desk. This might be the most pleasant conversation they’ve had in years, and he’s still not entirely sure that it isn’t some kind of fever dream. “So, tell me, Jones, what has you looking like you’d rather have a mug full of rum than coffee this late in the afternoon?”

Sighing, he leans forward on his desk and taps his fingers over the script, large letters typed out to read “Sleeping Beauty.” He’s got the entire script memorized now, mostly because he was the one to write the majority of it – with the help of the actual fairytale, the movie, and then his students when they insisted they do a modern version of a fairytale with a twist – but also because he’s been running lines with these kids for weeks.

And now he has no stars.

“I’m a bloody idiot,” he starts, swallowing his pride and the stress that’s lodged in his throat, “because I didn’t cast understudies for this play. Only two students in the class were comfortable both singing and sharing a kiss on stage, and I figured that it would be fine. It’s not a huge production, but then I was told that ticket sales could go to the theater department so that I can actually have funding. But the joke is on me because my leads have mono and are pretty much out for the entire month that we were going to be doing the show.”

Silence surrounds him as he finishes his rant, wondering why the hell he’s ranting to Emma in the first place, and he swears that he can hear the beating of his heart. Or maybe it’s the ticking of the clock above his door.

“You don’t have any other kids who know the lines?”

“Ava Hanson,” he sighs, looking up at Emma while he runs his hands through his hair, “but she’s not going to feel comfortable on stage. At this point, I’m wondering if we should simply postpone or if maybe I should play the lead role and modify things to make it more appropriate. Honestly, though, I’m not sure if I feel comfortable doing that.”

Emma groans, something deep and annoyed, and he’s just about to snap at her as he wonders what the hell could she possibly be upset about when she gets up from the chair and starts pacing back and forth in the room, her face buried in her hands.

“I’m willing to help you,” Emma huffs, stopping her pacing to look at him with her hands on her hips.

“What, love?”

“Look, I know what it’s like to be a part of the arts department, obviously, and funding is so hard to come by that I wouldn’t want you to miss out on any for those kids. Plus, I’m sure a bunch of the kids were looking forward to it. So, for those two reasons and those two reasons alone, I will read over the script and see if I can act in your play if you’re going to fill in for the other lead role.”

“You’re serious?” Killian questions. There’s no way. Absolutely none. “You realize this is a three-times a week thing for four weeks, it involves singing, extra time for no pay, and you have to spend time with me?”

“I obviously haven’t won the lottery or anything here, but yeah, I got all of that.”

“And you know what play we’re doing, right?”

“Sleeping Beauty.”

“Which involves a kiss.”

Emma’s lips fall into the shape of an “O” and he chuckles at that, thoroughly enjoyed by the blush on Emma’s cheeks and the continual blinking of her eyes.

“Just,” she whines, reaching down onto the desk to pick up the script he was looking at, “brush your teeth beforehand, and don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

-/-

There’s a substitute filling in for all of the theater and music classes the next day as he and Emma run through lines and do the messiest rehearsal in the history of rehearsals. Surprisingly, she knew most of her lines when she walked into the auditorium this morning, and while that did make everything go more smoothly, it was still a mess finding their timing as well as the timing of all of their students. But by the time the lunch bell rings, they’ve got a pretty good handle on it, and he sends Emma off to the closet where they keep the costumes to see if she can fit into Kate’s costumes. He’s sure that she can, especially with how slight Emma is, but then Emma walks up on stage with her breasts practically spilling out of the dress.

“What am I supposed to do about this?”

“To what are you referring?” Emma rolls her eyes and motions her hands around until she’s pointing at her chest, impatiently waiting for him to acknowledge the slight problem. “Well, love, your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear.”

Emma laughs, her eyes rolling once more, but he can see the slight smile on her face.

They might just get on, the two of them.

Or kill each other.

Everything for the rest of the day is a blur of him practicing while also dealing with all of the disasters and melodramatic emergencies that his students go through, and he swears the he blinks and people are already filling the auditorium. Liam and Elsa were kind enough to collect tickets for him, as well as buying far more tickets than necessary and forcing all of Elsa’s family to come to the show like he’s a teenager performing tonight and not an adult who screwed up, and he absolutely knows that he’s going to be teased about this until someone else does something equally embarrassing.

Not that being in theater is embarrassing. But being over thirty years old and acting with several sixteen-year-olds is.

Plus, they all know about his slight infatuation with Emma Swan and her definite dislike of him, and Killian just knows that Liam is going to be sitting in the front row recording this to have on file forever. It’ll likely be his Christmas card. Forget a picture of he and Elsa and Elsa’s ever-growing baby bump. It’s going to be Killian walking around on stage.

Closing the curtains he’s peeking out of, Killian turns around to see Emma standing in front of him wearing jeans and a blouse, her feet covered in white sneakers.

“What the bloody hell are you wearing?”

“It’s a modern-day fairytale,” she points out with a smirk, motioning her hands over her. “This is what a modern-day woman wears. Plus, I bent over in that dress and a boob popped out. I’m not flashing some of these dads who already think they can hit on me.”

“Yeah,” Killian gulps, forcing a smile as his stomach twists, “good point. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

It goes surprisingly well even though everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Felix curses in the middle of the one scene that he’s in, Ava’s microphone goes out which makes her cheeks flame in embarrassment, a tree falls down on top of him during the forest scene, and the bed squeaks when he kneels down on top of it to kiss Emma awake.

And that is something else entirely.

He and Emma had argued for an hour over the scene where Phillip wakes Aurora up with a kiss. She’d agreed that it was written well and followed the original storyline, but she’d protested in how they should actually go about it. How the hell does one kiss their colleague and then everything go back to normal?

How did he ever expect his students to do that as well?

This is nothing like it ever was when he was occasionally in community theater in different parts of his life.

But then the play ends to a hefty smattering of applause, and Killian can finally take a deep breath.

And it starts all over again.

Four weeks. He can do four weeks.

-/-

“This is exhausting,” Emma sighs as she stretches out across the panels on the stage, her body star-fished on the wood.

The two of them have been at the school since seven this morning cleaning up the auditorium so the janitor didn’t have to come in on an extra day. It’s the right thing to do when it’s their fault that there’s extra mess in the school, but he’s really and truly regretting it right now that his head pounds at the lack of caffeine in his system. Emma was smart enough to walk in the school with one of her swan mugs full of coffee, but his mind was not thinking that far ahead this morning.

Damn Kate and Ethan for getting mono.

Can he damn his students?

He probably should not be doing that.

But he kind of wants to because while the past three weeks have been stressful and busy and his personal life has absolutely gone down the drain, it hasn’t been…awful. All of his students are having a grand time, having fun with each other and becoming more comfortable in their roles, and to him, that’s the most important thing. He wants them to know that this can be a fun experience and that they don’t have to worry about being judged. So, that’s been great.

Kissing Emma Swan approximately (exactly) eighteen times has been not so great.

Okay, well, it’s actually been wonderful in a weird sense. Stage kissing and actual kissing are two entirely different things, but once the stiffness of those first few days was gone, it felt more natural.

And his odd, inexplicable crush on Emma only deepened, which is the last thing that he wanted.

(He’s turning into a teenager.)

It only gets worse in the fact that she walked inside the building today in a pair of short black running shorts and a matching black tank top with her hair pulled off of her neck in a ponytail. He doesn’t know when she finds the time to work out, but if the definition in her arms and legs shows anything, it’s that she very much does find the time.

(So working out and a good metabolism is how she eats like she does.)

Plus, well, she’s not all bad.

They bicker more than anyone he’s ever met. If he says black, she says white. If he wants to get Chinese delivery for a late dinner, she wants pizza. If he wants to change the tempo on a song to be faster, Emma wants it to be slower. Every single thing is a battle, and he loves it.

In fact, he hasn’t had this much fun in years. Their bickering is different than their bickering of the past. It’s no longer hostile and falls more into the category of teasing or, if he’s a tad bit presumptuous, flirting. A little thrill of excitement runs through him when Emma picks a fight or teases him about the flip of his hair in the same way that he sees her lips curl up into a smile when he teases her right back for the way that her voice croaked during their third performance.

Fun.

Spending time with her is fun.

And he’s terrified to know what’s going to happen when the show ends its run in a week and they go back to hating each other from across the hallway.

“Aye,” he confirms, using the muscles in his arms to pull himself up to sit on the edge of the stage, his fingers reaching over to mess with the loose bit of Emma’s sock, pulling a bit more when she doesn’t flinch away. “Tis exhausting. I plan on sleeping for a solid week when it’s all over.”

“We have school.”

“I’m thinking of playing hooky. You want to join?”

“Depends,” she mumbles, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest, “what are we going to do?”

Killian hums in thought, tapping his finger against his chin. “Well, for one, sleeping for at least a day. Then drinking a glass or two of rum without having to worry about waking up early the next morning, which is kind of the same thing. But mostly, in this fantasy world, I’m going to spend days away from teenagers of any and all kinds.”

“Amen to that, Jones. Add in some greasy hangover food after that night of rum drinking, and I am there.”

“Grilled cheese and onion rings?”

“It’s scary how you know that.”

“We share a cafeteria five days a week, love,” he sighs, turning a bit more on the stage so that he can look at her while he talks. “A man picks up on some things. I’m sure you notice these things about me too.”

Her brows furrow, suspicion painted in her features, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “This sounds like some kind of trap to stroke your ego, and I am not falling for it.”

“My princess,” he says sarcastically, knowing that she hates it, “whatever shall I do with you? I’d go to the ends of the world or time to make you happy.”

“All you have to do is go to the faculty lounge and make me some more coffee.”

Killian hops down from the stage and bends over in a sarcastic bow that has Emma laughing. “As you wish, milady.”

The show that night goes smoothly, probably their smoothest one yet. Everyone is settled in their roles now, so there’s not much to do but work on vocals and do little tweaks that he’ll need to work on if they also do a spring production. With classes and track and field practice, he’s not entirely sure how he’ll fit one in, especially with every other event that takes up the auditorium near graduation, but it’s simply something to think about.

As well as having understudies. He’s never making this mistake again even if it’s going much better than he ever could have imagined.

Emma is a damn good stage partner, which shouldn’t be surprising given what he knows about her musical ability, but being a musician doesn’t always translate over into being a good actor. At the beginning, he was definitely simply hoping for someone to fill the spot in the most adequate of ways. He was never expecting her to be good.

He also wasn’t expecting them to still have crowds this many shows in. Honestly, when the school set-up this timeline, he expected it to only last two weeks and for them to cancel the rest of the shows, but he managed to get a few retirement homes, elementary schools, and recreational groups to come on different nights so that there’s always someone sitting in the crowd.

If Will, Robin, and Liam are asses who keep coming back simply so that they have more proof of him acting with Emma, that’s beside the point.

If he went to dinner with Elsa three days ago and told her that he’s developed actual feelings for Emma over the past few days, that’s definitely beside the point.

And yet it is also every point on all of his lists written over and over again in permanent marker.

Every logical bone in his body told him not to let his little crush fester and develop into something more, but spending all of this time with her, watching her laugh at his jokes or hum along to their music while cleaning up after the shows has completely endeared her to him. It’s the oldest story in the world – a man falls for a woman – and yet he thinks this has the beginnings to be his favorite tale.

Tonight, though, is their final show, and since Kate and Ethan received the all clear from their doctors two days ago, he and Emma are very gladly stepping down from their roles to let their students close it out. A little bit of fate or good coincidence is playing out here, and when his ever-loyal small group of students tell him to go sit in the audience for once and watch, he listens.

If not with a bit of trepidation as it’s not like him not to be behind the curtains making sure everything goes just right.

“You want some popcorn?” Emma asks him when she plops down in the seat next to him, a red and white striped box in her hands, the smell of salt and butter invading his nostrils. “It’s really good. I’m sure it goes against your healthy eating lifestyle, but you should live a little.”

Killian reaches over to grab a handful, the butter greasy on his fingertips, before popping two pieces in his mouth. “So, you have noticed the way that I eat.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” She knocks her shoulder into his, and he knocks right back. “It’s going to be weird watching it from down here. I feel like I should be singing to you or gurgling mouthwash or something.”

“I knew you used mouthwash right before we kissed.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure that I could trust you despite me telling you to brush your teeth.”

“Minty and fresh,” he breathes, twisting his head so that he can get that little bit closer to Emma. “And maybe a little buttery now.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t be kissing me tonight then.”

His stomach twists at that, his heart dropping a little bit, and he knows that is shouldn’t. He’s an adult. He knows what happens up on that stage is all an act, literally, and his mind shouldn’t get confused by it. And while his mind likely isn’t confused by the lines that they say on stage, it’s confused by what happens off of it. It’s the lunches together and the way Emma comes into his office when they’re both staying late on non-play nights grading papers. Neither of them close their doors now, those wooden frames always staying open, and while she does still shout at him from across the hallway, very rarely is it cross words. Oftentimes it is simply Emma telling Killian to check his phone because she has sent him yet another meme about being a theater teacher.

Truly, it’s the smiles and small jokes and the way that her steps match up with his in the hallways, the echoes of their shoes blending together so that no one would know who exactly it is that’s walking down the corridors of the school.

It’s the subliminal changes, the ones that only he would notice, and while they are small, much like Emma, they are mighty.

“Yeah,” Killian mumbles a little dejected as he takes another bite of popcorn, “it is a good thing.”

Emma looks at him with parted lips like she’s about to speak, but before she can say anything, the squeak of the curtains opening sounds the beginning of the show.

Because Killian’s been acting in it and consumed with playing many roles both on and off stage, he hasn’t truly been able to appreciate the production. He hasn’t been able to appreciate the sets or the way that the kids easily change them between scenes. Now he’s able to notice that and precisely how much everyone has improved, how confident his students are under the lights and in front of the crowds. He’s always been a fan of pushing comfort zones, of helping his more shy students break out of them, but he also knows that it can’t be forced. Some people simply are not comfortable with that no matter how much time he gives, and that’s okay. They find their roles in other ways.

“Kate’s voice is beautiful,” Emma whispers in his ear, but he has a difficult time focusing on it for how her hand is curled around his forearm. She’s got soft hands, especially considering the callouses he knows should form from playing instruments all day. “Does she play any instruments? Why is she not in one of my music classes?”

“Don’t pilfer my students, Swan.”

Her fingers pinch around his skin, pulling at the hair, and Killian scrunches up his nose while he looks at her, their noses only two or three inches apart. “I wasn’t trying to, thank you very much. I was thinking maybe we could see if some of my students wanted to do a combination with yours. We could do live music with a play. Maybe not one that runs for four weeks, but at least a show.”

“Look at you coming around to me.”

“Yeah, well, like you said, we make quite the team.”

When the play is over, his students doing a bang-up job and giving a better performance than they ever would with he and Emma on stage, the audience rises for a standing ovation that has the grin on his face stretching from ear-to-ear. It looks the same to Emma. Kate and Ethan and the rest of their students insist that he and Emma stand on stage with them all, each of them very obviously going for dramatic effect, so he takes Emma’s hand and walks around the front aisle of the auditorium until they can walk up the side steps and have their thirty seconds of gratification and self-indulgence in doing a good job.

Killian doesn’t let go of Emma’s hand.

More importantly, Emma doesn’t let go of his.

She does eventually when they start cleaning up for the night, parents and students helping out as they all eat the pizza that Liam decided to donate for the night. Attached to the top box was a note telling Killian to stop being a coward and to ask Emma out, and thankfully, he snatched that piece of paper away quickly before stuffing it in his pocket. His older brother never does seem to stop finding ways to embarrass him while also being a good person.

Amazing how that works out.

Eventually the sets are put away yet not dismantled and every pizza but one has been devoured, so Killian grabs it and his car keys before walking out of the auditorium and down the hallway to the exit only to find Emma waiting for him. Or, at least, that’s what he thinks.

“So,” she starts, looking up from her phone to smile at him, the black dress she has on far too distracting, “you want to go get that glass of rum?”

“Swan, are you asking me out on a date?”

“I’m asking you to a bar.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking?”

Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she steps forward so that they’re eye-to-eye, her heels aiding that. “I knew you’d be old-fashioned, so I’ll tell you what, you can pay. And drive.”

“Why, love, you do flatter a man.”

-/-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma mumbles, her hand placed on his thigh, innocently and yet distracting all at once, “you were in the Navy in England? How the hell did you get here?”

They’ve been at the Rabbit Hole bar for two hours now, only one drink each somehow, and he swears that they haven’t stopped talking this entire time. Obviously, he’s gotten to know Emma better over the last month of him spending so much time with her, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t her sharing stories of the time she spends with her friends or talking about how she knew Mary Margaret through Mary Margaret’s husband. It wasn’t her telling him that she got into music because the foster mom she had as a teenager was a music teacher and taught Emma to play several instruments. It wasn’t him getting to know her on a level more intimate than the pleasantries that all teachers share at school.

It wasn’t this.

And it definitely wasn’t Emma asking him about his life with more interest than she usually shows.

Or the casual touching that precedes flirting. It may have been awhile for him, but he does know flirting when he sees it. Emma Swan flirting with him makes his stomach twist and his heart pound.

“Eh,” he sighs, reaching up to scratch behind his ear out of nerves, “so I joined the Royal Navy at eighteen. It gave me money and purposed and an education. I’d always been interested in the theater as a kid, so I figured I’d study that and possibly become a teacher after I retired. I simply didn’t expect to retire so soon.”

“Well, why did you?”

The age-old question.

“A broken heart. I’d been dating someone, Milah, for a few years, and I bought a ring to propose to her. I did propose, actually, but she turned me down.” He chuckles the words bitterly with a forced smile on his face. “She’d slept with someone else and had hidden it from me, but I guess the ring made her unable to hide it anymore. So, yeah, that wasn’t great, and when my contract ended later that year, I looked into moving here to be with my brother and his wife, who is American. It was a hell of a lot of paperwork and interviews, but I like being here. It’s relaxing.”

The smile on Emma’s face is soft, apologetic, and he can tell that she wants to say that she’s sorry, to show him pity like everyone always does when he shares that story. It’s something he’s grown used to, but he doesn’t want Emma’s pity.

“I was engaged,” she blurts out instead, pulling her hand back from his thigh to grab her wine from the bar top and take a small sip. “Obviously, I’m not anymore, but I was, right before I started to work at Storybrooke. That’s why I transferred. That’s also why I may have been a bit of a bitch to you.”

“You?” he mock gasps. “You being a little rude to me? Never.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to apologize.”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“I will punch you.”

“So aggressive.”

“You like it,” she teases, flipping her hair over her shoulder so that his eyes are drawn to the dip of her clavicle before he looks back at her eyes.

“Perhaps I do,” he admits quietly, the sounds around him quieting for a moment as he begins to lean in, begins to get closer to Emma, but he stops himself halfway and pulls back. He’s not ruining this moment by making a brash decision. He won’t.

“Uh, um, anyways,” Emma stutters while blinking, her fingers tapping against the glass. She uncrosses her legs, and he nearly falls backward when her calf brushes against his. Smooth, Jones, smooth. “So, I was engaged to a guy that I worked with, had the ring on my finger and a wedding date booked, and one day I went to his classroom at lunch to ask him if he wanted to eat the rest of my pasta only to see him making out with the vice principal. Which obviously sucked a lot for me, personally, but also it was super inappropriate. Neal always insisted that we don’t show affection at work. No one even knew it was him I was engaged to, and I guess I didn’t realize why he was that way until I found out he was dating two women at one school, which really took him to a whole new level of shitty.”

“He sounds like a real bastard.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs, a bitter smile on her face, “yeah he was, but it’s for the best, you know? I’m not glad that it happened, but I’m glad that I found out when I did. I can’t imagine having actually been married to him. So, when I met you and you were all charming and helpful as well as a fellow teacher, I was done with helpful and charming men and kind of took it out on you.”

“You find me charming then?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“I do so love a compliment.”

“Stop,” she chuckles, gently slapping his arm. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“Charming and weird are the two words I’d use to describe me, though. But, yeah, Swan, I’m glad you didn’t marry him. I’m glad I didn’t marry Milah. Things tend to work out for the best.” The small, shitty band that’s playing in the corner of the bar shifts tunes to a slower song, one he doesn’t recognize, and an idea pops into Killian’s mind. “So now that feelings have been shared,” he croons, standing up from the stool and holding out his hand toward Emma, “will you do me the honor of allowing me to have this dance?”

Emma arches her brow once more, something she might as well do as often as he does, but the quizzical look doesn’t match the grin on her face. “What if I don’t know how to dance?”

“Well, darling, I know for a fact that’s not true since we just danced in a high school play together for a month, but even if it was, luckily for you, you have a partner who knows what he’s doing. So, come on, let’s go.”

She hesitates, but it’s only for a moment before she’s placing her hand in his and rising from her stool, the two of them going to the half-empty dance floor. It’s more swaying than dancing with how close Emma is standing, one of her hands wrapped around his neck while the other is intertwined with his and resting on his chest. His free hand is on her hip, fingers itching to dip lower, but he doesn’t. He won’t.

Not yet.

Not until Emma steps more into his space, the curves of her body aligned with the lines of his, and he can feel the way her heart is beating in her chest. Or, really, that might simply be his.

“Emma,” he hesitantly whispers. Her lips are close enough to his that he can feel his mouth move over hers when he talks, but it’s not enough. He’s kissed her before, and that definitely wasn’t enough. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, she tilts her head up toward his and hesitantly brushes her lips over his, staying still until his mouth responds. In reality, her lips feel the same as they did every single time they had a moment like this on stage, but it’s different. It’s different in the way that she moves against him, in the way that she tugs on his bottom lip and on the way that he tugs on her upper one. It’s different in that there is no acting here, only honesty in the soft and gentle movements that have him sighing into her mouth.

It’s different in that this is truly Emma kissing him, and in the three years that he’s known her, he never could have imagined this. And if he did, reality is so much better.

When they pull back for air, he can feel the smile on Emma’s face as their foreheads press together, and he’s sure that she can feel the giant grin painted on his lips.

“You all good, Emma?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, kissing him again, “except it’s very weird for you to taste like rum instead of toothpaste.”

Killian barks out a laugh before moving his hands to cup her cheeks and smile down at her. “I like you, Emma Swan.”

“Funny thing, I like you too.”

Monday morning, Killian pulls into the parking lot with Emma in his passenger’s seat and her hand resting on his knee.

They never picked up her car on Friday night.

When they get engaged a year later, Belle wins the betting pool on when the two of them would get together. Apparently, both the faculty and students started it on Emma’s fourth day of work at Storybrooke High.

Talk about a modern-day fairytale.

[izayoi-hakuyu]

The small stone and the involved nut - The theme of isolation and connection within Haibane Renmei

Actually sitting down and writing an analysis? For an anime that was released almost 20 years ago and that like almost nobody knows? Me? Apparently, yesh!

After I rewatched Haibane Renmei months ago I couldn’t get it out of my mind all this time and writing about it has burned under my nails ever since, so yes. This analysis will examine the themes of “isolation” and “connection”. At first there will be an examination of the setting and the way the world is built in Haibane Renmei and how it presents “isolation” and “connection”. After that there will be a closer look to the characters. The second chapter will analyses how the characters isolate themselves and how isolation is presented. The last chapter will focus on connection, the breaking up of said isolation and will further discuss how the theme of “connection” ties to other main themes, which are “guilt” and “forgiveness”.        

Charcoal Feather Federation and the end of the world

 I’m sorry for putting a reference from the title of the book “Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World” in the title of the chapter, which talks about the setting of Haibane Renmei. But it is stated from the creator ABe that he drew inspiration from Haruki Murakami’s (imo fantastic) book “Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World” and the similarities in the setting are striking. But this is not about the relationship between Haibane Renmei and the book, but Haibane Renmei alone and how it integrates the theme of isolation and connection in its setting. The setting of Haibane Renmei is a setting of isolation. The town of Glie and its surroundings are sheltered from the outside world by massive walls. It serves as a closed microcosm, the inhabitants of Glie – as shown with Sumika – may wonder what’s behind them, but never make actual attempts to overcome it. Coming neat towards the wall or even touch it leads to serve injury and sickness, which happens to Hyoko in the past and to Rakka in the present of the narrative. This way the isolation stays untouched. There are three entities, which are able to cross the walls: The crows, the Touga and Haibane that receive their Day of Flight. Their life as Haibane ends as they overcome the walls, the closed, isolated space which is Glie. Curiously their life as a Haibane starts in a similar way, namely sheltered in a cocoon. The cocoon isolates the Haibane from the world outside, serving as a sort of wall in itself. The first episode shows this very well with paralleling shots of Rakka in her cocoon and the other Haibane in front of the cocoon, who are discussing what to do. As soon Rakka hatches, she is no longer isolated, starts to connect with others, becomes an active part of the world around her. The progress of a Haibane hatching from the cocoon parallels in them crossing the wall during their day of flight. In both instances an isolated space is left behind, in other words: The Haibane are breaking free from the isolation. The cocoon could be seen as an Day of Flight on a smaller scale, preparing the Haibane for their mental journey that leads to cross the walls someday.

 But the isolation is not only empathized in the world around the Haibane, but becomes especially clear in the social coexistence between Haibane and humans. Haibane are subject to the strict ruleset by the Haibane Renmei. They are separated from humans as they live in long-abandoned buildings like the Old Factory or Old Home away from town. On top of the physical separation and the appearance (halo and wings) that separates Haibane from humans, there is the social ruleset that furthers the Haibane’s isolataion. They are only allowed to possess goods that they have made themselves or that the townspeople have cast aside, like donations and discarded items. They have to find an occupation. On the other hand, money is something Haibane are not allowed to have as well; instead they carry notebooks used as scripts. These are instruments of oppression, creating a power imbalance, separating the Haibane further from the humans. Furthermore Haibane are seen as someone who brings luck, which makes them to be seen more as a “lucky charm” than a person by some. This is especially apparent with the woman who is harassing Rakka, who was already struggling with being sin-bound, by highlighting her strangeness as well as calling her Haibane, a term and a position, like I said Rakka was struggling with at that point.    

 The theme of isolation and separation is also explored with the entities, who are directly involved with the Haibane: The Haibane Renmei and their Communicator and the mysterious Touga, who are able to leave the walls behind and serve as merchants. The Touga are generally not allowed to speak directly and communicate with sign language only the Communicator knowns – furthering the Touga’s isolation within the community and the “otherness” of their status. A similar phenomenon can be observed between the Haibane and the Communicator. The Haibane are not allowed to speak to the Communicator directly (showing the power imbalance) and use their wings for sign language. “Silence” and “not speaking” are prominent elements to show and strengthen the theme of isolation. This is not only appearing in an outward ruleset but also within the characters (Rakka and Reki), but we will get to that later.

 There are two other separated groups within the setting: The sin-bound Haibane and the crows, which curiously both have black feathers. It may be strange to examine those two together just because of this, but there is a reason, as both are separated by their unique statuses in the setting. Sin-bound Haibane are Haibane who can not fully remember their dream, which separate them from other Haibane. As seen in Reki’s past, they are shunned and avoided because of their otherness among other Haibane. Furthermore the ultimate fate of a sin-bound Haibane is “to fall”, to lose their wings and Halo, living a life separated from humans and Haibane alike. Speak: Ultimate isolation.          

The crows are isolated because of their unique status of crossing the walls. Especially Kana shows disdain towards crows, scaring them away (similar to everyone except of Kuramori was discriminating and avoiding Reki because of her black wings). Rakka (and as well Kuu, who foils Rakka in being the youngest Haibane, their dream/name is about falling, both are struggling to finding themselves and a purpose in life, as well as Kuu being the first one to receive her Day of Flight while Rakka’s ability to receive the Day of Flight is questionable for a long time due to being sin-bound) on the other hand is much more empathic with the crows (which becomes an extremely important plot point later on), even suggesting to give them food. In her response Kana shows a lot more insight and motifs that go beyond that crows are “dirty” animals and envy that they are able to cross the wall: If they get too comfortable they might not want to leave and lose their freedom, which shows Kana’s wish for her own freedom but also a empathy for the crows that only Rakka seemed to show.

While crows can cross the wall by nature, the formerly sin-bound and fallen Haibane have lost the possibility to do so at all – Haibane on the other hand all have the potential to cross the wall on their Day of Flight.

While all the restrictions that are put on the Haibane makes the town of Glie appear like a bleak world, the opposite is actually the case. Glie presents itself as a peaceful, even idealistic place. One does wonder why there are restrictions in the first place – but Kana’s dialog with Rakka about the crows offers a interpretation: If the Haibane would get too comfortable within the town of Glie they would have an harder time to leave it, receive their Day of Flight and to move on with their existence. The life in Glie is a peaceful, worriless one. Every human is kindhearted (even the woman at the shop who tried to touch Rakka’s wings has no ill intention), conflicts don’t arouse. Even though some of them are curious about what is behind the wall (such as Sumika used to search for book) the human inhabitants and Haibane alike mostly don’t seem to mind the fact that they are not able to cross it and focus on their lives within the walls. The shop-owner is generous and friendly, Sumika the librarian is kindhearted, the man who works in the clock tower may seem grumpy but he appreciates Kana a lot.

The first episodes focus on Rakka being following Hikari, Kana and Nemo to their workplaces. Not only she connects with her fellow-Haibane this way, learning about their daily life and personality, but she also forms connection to humans this way. Human and Haibane are even able to connect through their differences – this is what the pregnant Sumika did when she asked Rakka what it is like to be born (empathizing the theme of birth). Most Haibane have initially connection to humans through their workplace, they even form deeper connections like friendship as it is shown with Nemu and Sumika. The town of Glie is a idealistic, kindhearted world – even impactful events like Kuu’s disappearing are, though they are mourned after, accepted relatively quickly and everyone goes back to their mundane everyday life pretty fast. But from this arises the problem what happens to them who don’t conform to such a idealistic world, for those who struggle and feel pain in an intense, long-term way? Who don’t seem to fit in a world where open, negative emotions don’t seem to have a place in? This is what happens with Rakka and Reki respectively.

If conflict arises it appears mostly within the realm of the Haibane. And if there is conflict in the realm of the Haibane, it revolves around those who are struggling with negative emotions and can’t find a place in such a idealistic world und struggle with those feelings: Rakka and Reki. Either in the form of inner conflict (wondering what is their purpose of their existence, struggling with their status of being a Haibane) or outer conflict (Nemu’s negative emotions arise from the worry for Reki; Rakka feeling out of place since she can not cope with Kuu’s disappearance but everyone else can; Reki’s past as a sin-bound Haibane, her feeling betrayed by Kuramori, her plan to escape, hurting Hyouko and Midori in the process). How Reki’s and Rakka’s struggles steam and are fueled by isolation shall be observed in the following.

   Birds of a feather – Rakka, Reki and the burden of isolation

 Isolation is one of the main themes surrounding both Rakka and Reki and during the narration they heavily foil each other via paralleling and contrasting.

 Reki’s start as a life as a Haibane is defined by loneliness, pain and isolation – her cocoon emerged in a boarded up room and when she was found she already hatched. She had to bear the confusion of her new life, the erupting of her wings and the accomplished pain and fever all by herself. She was found unconscious and covered in blood, her wings being black instead of the charcoal color. Kuramori took care of her, cleaned her wings and nursed her back to health.

Rakka’s start highly parallels and contrasts Reki’s arrival. Rakka’s cocoon is found by Reki by chance in an abandoned section of the building complex. But contrasting her own fate, Reki finds before Rakka hatches. And right after she emerged, Reki takes care of her. Reki explains the situation to her, warns her about her condition, nurses her in a devotedly (she uses her own thumb so Rakka doesn’t bite her tongue while being in pain, foreshadowing her self-scarifying personality) and stays at Rakka’s bedside the whole night, watching over her and cleaning her wings. Reki gives Rakka what she couldn’t have at the start of her life: Company, care and compassion – the feeling of belonging, a connection to others. Rakka’s start in the life of a Haibane highly contrasts Reki’s because of the influence of Reki herself, who gives Rakka a different fate than her own by taking care of her.

The contrasting doesn’t stop there: Reki compliments Rakka’s charcoal wings, a callback to her own darkly stained feathers. While Reki started out as being sin-bound from right the beginning, Rakka adapts the status of being sin-bound only later on due to Kuu’s departure. What are Reki’s starting conditions is a development for Rakka. The black wings and the stigma of being sin-bound are the reason why Reki was discriminated by the other Haibane with only her mentor Kuramori giving care of her. In the present, Reki adapts Kuramori’s role as a caregiver towards Rakka. But in contrast to Reki, Rakka is able to bound to the other Haibane right from the beginning. She is bid welcome, everyone introduces themselves in a friendly manner and over the course of the first episodes, Rakka is able to connect with them individually with each episode being decided to a certain Haibane (Episode 3 is focused on Hikari and Kuu, Episode 4 focuses on Rakka’s and Kana’s relationship and Kana showing Rakka her project and Episode 4 Rakka helps out in Nemu’s workplace). All this activities are centered around giving and receiving help. Rakka is introduced to the world of the Haibane, receiving help to orientate herself in her new life, while Rakka on the other end gives help as well, e.g. helping in the library. The other Haibane willingly connect with Rakka, letting her into their personal lives.

As said before, Reki’s first time at Old Home was very different, spending her time as an outsider. Her first experience besides Kuramori introducing herself was Nemu, who refused to talk to her and ran away from her. A situation that would draw through all of Reki’s early experiences in Old Home. While Nemu is surrounded by the other Haibane children, Reki, a child herself at point, it standing isolated on the side, hiding herself. This highly contrasts the warm welcome Rakka receives. Furthermore her caregiver Kuramori falls ill several times due to her weak condition and the exhaustion of collecting medicines to bleach Reki’s wings. Something, Reki not only blames herself for but is blamed for it by an outside force, namely Nemu, who loves Kuramori as well and shoves the blame for her sickness towards Reki. In the end, she openly says to Reki, it will be her fault, if Kuramori died, which makes Reki cry out of fear and self-blame (the long shot on Nemu’s face instead of showing Reki crying suggest that Nemu is sorry). While Nemu watches over Kuramori, Reki is isolated again, even from giving help...until the point she shows up with food she bought for Nemu, thinking she was hungry. Nemu not only accepts the food, but apologies for what she said before. After that she suggests that they could cook together. A connective activity, showing Reki that she is accepted, wanted by someone else but Kuramori. Both are connected by the caring for Kuramori, but Reki bringing food, Nemu understands that Reki not only cares for Kuramori (by coming back instead of staying away) but for her as well, despite of what she has done (by bringing her food). Reki’s action of reaching out to Nemu leads to Nemu reaching out for Reki on her behalf. Nemu even integrates Reki in her activities, allowing Reki to be there and help, doing stuff with her instead of being isolated. In the next morning, when Kuramori wakes up, she sees the two Haibane sleeping on her bedside (paralleling how Reki stays at Rakka’s bedside several times, highlighting her caring nature), holding hands, which symbolizes the connection and the friendship the two girls have made. They are not only connected by caring about Kuramori, but also caring about themselves. Reki’s connection to others even expands further from this point, as she receives the job as the caregiver for the younger Haibane from Kuramori, which – after a moment of doubt if she is really fit for it (same as Rakka is always struggling with what she wants to do) – she accepts happily. She, who only was on the sidelines, is now not only in the center of other people and strongly connected to them, but has also a position of responsibility, showing the trust Kuramori has in her.

 Rakka and Reki are slowly finding their places in the world, but both are taken aback by a loss in this stage of their development. In both cases Rakka and Reki are losing their mentor and family figures Kuu and Kuramori through their Day of Flight. Kuu and Kuramori disappear suddenly and the grief Rakka and Reki feel, pushes them into isolation. Reki feels betrayed by Kuramori disappearance, who promised to never leave her, fueling her existing trust issues and self-hatred. She can’t believe or accept Kuramori is gone, paralleling to how Rakka refuses to believe that Kuu won’t come back. Reki’s grief turns against herself in form of self-hatred and anger against Kuramori who seemingly abandoned her, Rakka’s depression partly stems from the fear for another person, namely that Kuu, who was so important to hear, will be forgotten. But this is only one aspect of Rakka’s depression. She is also unable to get back into normal routine after Kuu is gone, holding onto her grief. Seeing how all the other Haibane are going on with their everyday life every fast cuts Rakka’s emotional life off from the rest of her peers. She is unable to fit in and isolates herself. Her black feathers only emphasis her isolation from the world around her. Because of what happened to Kuu she begins to question the existence of the Haibane in the first place, asking questions humans and Haibane ask alike. “Why am I here?” “Where do I go?” “What is the point of my existence?” “What’s the point of my existence if I will disappear? If no one will remember me anyway?” Not only is Rakka unable to find an answer, but she also questions the legitimacy of her very own existence as a Haibane since the black feathers mark her as sin-bound, a “flawed Haibane”, in her and Reki’s eyes. Not only Rakka’s view of the relationship of the Haibane and the world around them (which is obviously a world were Haibane disappear someday) is torn apart and thrown into insecurity – but her own relationship with being a Haibane is just as well torn apart and thrown into insecurity. It is implied that Rakka always had those feelings of inadequacy (as she questioned why her, a normal girl, would become a Haibane) and was prone to questioning her own existence (how she wondered serval times over the nature of the Haibane even in the first episodes). Reki on the other hand always seemed to have the same feelings of inadequacy and loneliness accompanied by the fear of abandonment. In both cases, the disappearance of another Haibane (who was a mentor figure just as much as a part of the family), fuel and worsen Rakka’s and Reki’s existing issues.

In both cases it causes them to run away – in Reki’s case she found shelter in the Old Factory, where other Haibane most importantly her friends Midori and Hyouko live. So it was not a complete isolation, but she did cut ties with her actual home. Also the isolation furthers as Hyouko and Reki tried to flee together as it not only cuts ties with Midori, but Reki and Hyouko are planning to leave this world (the town of Glie) entirely. The attempt to run away is not only fueled by Reki’s perception as the town of Glie as a prison (as it not only her status as a sin-bound Haibane is a prison for her, but also her distance to Kuramori and the rest of the outside world), but also an attempt to reunite with Kuramori – which is an evidence that Reki forgave Kuramori the “betrayal”, even though she never overcame the feelings that “betrayal” left in her. The plan to run away horrible fails as Hyouko is badly hurt through touching the wall, almost bleeding to death – leaving Reki with an immense sense of guilt. Not only their plan is foiled, the ties between Reki and Midori are even more cut, as Midori blames her for Hyouko’s near-death. Furthermore, the Haibane from Old Home and the Old Factory are not allowed to interact with each other as an aftermath of their stunt, leaving Reki and Hyouko isolated from each other.

In comparison to Reki, Rakka is a lot more aimless. She is convinced that she can’t go back to Old Home anymore because she is not a “proper Haibane”, but she doesn’t have a concrete plan and – different to Reki – no other Haibane to support her in the situation (expect Reki, but Rakka has the feeling that she can’t entrust her worries to her and that nobody cares about her anyway. Here we have the theme of “not talking/staying silent” and how it causes issues.). The one guidance she has are the crows, which she emphasizes/connected with right from the beginning of her life as a Haibane (unknowing that she has a much deeper connection to crows due to her dream, which she can’t remember). She is able to emphasize enough with the crows to follow them in the forest, where she finds the skeleton of the bird in a dried up well (dried up as a symbol of death or how Rakka’s happiness has dried up). The theme of isolation and connection is heavily empathized with everything surrounding the well. First of all, it is a symbol for Rakka’s mental state: In a deep hole, unable to crawl out, the ladder is broken, her ankle is hurt (making her even more trapped); the well is in an isolated place so nobody could hear her, nobody knows where she is. In other words: Rakka is feeling depressed and hopeless, she doesn’t know how to feel better (in comparison to Reki, who thought she would feel better if she climbed the wall), any opportunity to feel better doesn’t work, her body is working against her (like the black wings), she feels isolated, nobody knows how she feels or that she needs help. The skeleton of the bird could foreshadow her possible fate (read: death) in the well, which is only emphasized by the falling snow, as snow is traditionally a symbol for death.

In this moment of isolation, Rakka is able to reconnect to the past: She remembers a time, where she felt exactly the same – lonely, isolating thinking, nobody was there for her or would grieve if she was gone. She is also able to recognize the skeleton of the bird as someone she knew, someone who was dear to her. The present reflects her past situation and through meeting the skeleton Rakka is able to remember her dream, having a moment of self-recognition: She remembers that the crow was indeed there for her and cared for her – even though she is unable to remember the context or who the bird originally was. What Rakka remembers is, that she felt lonely in her past life, wanting to disappear, thinking that nobody would care. But the person, represented by the bird, wanted to show Rakka that she was not alone, wanted to save her. That relates to Rakka’s dream how the bird is trying to stop Rakka’s fall – without success. Rakka feels guilty about letting the person, represented by the bird, down, for being unable to recognize their care, for leaving and leaving the bird alone. As a last act, Rakka buries the skeleton, an act of connection and respect, giving piece to the bird. And giving piece to herself. Soon after, Rakka is found by the Touga. Despite the gaps and restrictions between the Touga and Haibane, they both assist Rakka and help her out of the well, most likely saving her life. They never speak to her and are probably not allowed to interact with her, but they still emphasize with and reaching out to her.

It is no coincidence that Rakka and Reki both happen to be in the forest as a part of their personal journey. The forest is an isolated place, not meant to be intruded. Here, Rakka and Reki are confronted with themselves (as isolation means continuous self-confrontion with no one else) and with the consequences of their actions. Reki is confronted with her own recklessness wanting to cross the wall, while Rakka is confronted with the actions of her past and her inability to accept others attempts to reach out to her. In a similar line, both confrontations surround the theme of death and grief, as Hyouko almost died and the withered corpse of the bird – Reki and Rakka both being stricken with guilt. But for both, Hyouko and the bird, there is some sort of relieve. Hyouko survives while the bird is buried, giving it salvation and a reconciliation with Rakka. As Rakka touches the wall, as Hyouko did und falls seriously ill afterwards, Reki is confronted with her past all over again.

Receiving and accepting forgiveness from the bird and forgiving herself releases Rakka from her sin-bound status (we will talk about it in more detail later). Being told this throws Reki into depression – the only person who was like her archived what she never could. Rakka being sin-bound gave Reki comfort, the feeling of not being alone; shared pain is half pain after all. But for Reki it feels, they are no longer the same and Rakka cannot empathize with her anymore. She feels confirmed to the idea that she always be alone. That Rakka is no longer sin-bound can be interpreted as a “betrayal” in Reki’s point of view, which fear of it is one of the main themes surrounding her. A fear that comes true in her eyes. Furthermore the information of the Communicator that Nemu is always worried about Reki drags her down further as she fears to burden Nemu, hindering her Day of Flight – something which she does fear she will never accomplish. Not receiving the Day of Flight/worring about Reki too much would delay Nemu’s Day of Flight and may cause her to “fall” as a Haibane. This is what Reki thinks. She feels guilty about Nemu caring about her, this is why she tells her not to see her as a burden (cementing her worldview of not being able to ask for help). This shows, even though she will feel lonely and she feels envy of the Haibane (especially Rakka), who can take their Day of Flight, she wants others to take their Day of Flight, even if it means to be all alone.        

 As her time runs out more and more, Reki isolates herself more and more. She makes preparation to leave, thinking she will disappear soon. She is giving Rakka her cigarettes reminiscent on how Kuu gave her coat to Rakka, making Rakka worried. Furthermore she gives Hyouko his bell nut, the symbol of apology, a week earlier because she thinks she wouldn’t make it until the festival. She isolates herself not only emotionally by covering her pain with a smile but also physically, locking herself up in her room.

Reki may have received forgiveness from Hyouko and Midori, but that doesn’t better her condition.

She is convinced that she is not allowed to ask for help or rather she is afraid to ask, because she fears nobody would answer what only would confirm her ultimate loneliness. Reki expresses the wish to become a unfeeling stone – she can’t stand her feelings, because she feels too much, especially pain. Becoming a stone – this not only dehumanizes her, but gives her no chance of communication, no opportunity of interaction. It also reflects how low she thinks of herself, a stone on the sidewalk nobody notices. That the younger version that appears to confront her turns into stone, makes Reki cry, trying to stop the process, hugging her petrified, dissolving self. She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want to become a stone. She wants someone to do what she did to her younger self – hold her, stop her from emotionally dissolving.

As Rakka offers Reki her real name as a last straw, the name indicates that there was no salvation for her in the first place (something that Reki is already convinced off). “The one who was run over and torn apart” – this being reveled her true name, suggest that there is no hope for Reki, only despair, pain and death. Reki remembers her cacoon dream, remembers the despair, the helplessness and hopelessness, the feeling of being always betrayed and the strong sense of abandonment and loneliness that she felt at this time in her past life. But not only within her past life, but her life as a Haibane as she feels abandoned by Kuramori, the other Haibane who reach their Day of Flight, by Nemu, who she thinks she only sees her as a burden, by the Communicator who refused to talk to her after the incidence with Hyouko (as part of the montage in ep 13 implies, which may be why she didn’t trust him anymore), by Midori (even though the conflict resolved). And last but not least she feels abandoned by God, who won’t give her blessing despite of all that she tried. This, mixed with the despair stemming from the current situation, that she thinks she is really beyond help (confirmed by her nametag), lets Reki hit her lowest point. As a result, Reki pushes everything away ultimately. Her own life and identity. And  she pushes away Rakka, who can only watch helplessly. Reki claims to only care about herself and using Rakka as a tool for her own salvation. She opens up what she perceives to be her true feelings to Rakka: She tried to be a good Haibane to shed up the guilt that she felt all her life. But “being good” means to Reki that she was only accepted if she closed away her true feelings and acted that she was nice. Reki’s true feelings harshly clashes with what has been shown about her and her caring nature towards Rakka. To Reki, these feelings weren’t genuine. She harshly tells Rakka, her feelings for her weren’t genuine, but that it could have been anyone, that Rakka wasn’t necessary. Furthermore Reki expresses her jealousy towards Rakka, as both were sin-bound, but only she “was forgiven”. Her jealousy towards the happiness of others makes Reki hate herself even more. As the final straw Reki mentions the bet that she made with herself: That if she could make the Haibane that hatches from the cacoon trust her, that she would be forgiven. She says that to underline her selfishness to Rakka, who refused to believe that Reki is bad in any way. Reki refuses to believe in her own kindness, sees it barely as a facade to cover up her faults that she sees a her true personality (similar on how she dyed her wings to cover up the black spots. To her everything positive about her is just a cover, a facade for the “ugly” interior). By claming that her kindness has merely been a lie, Rakka is pushed away completely. Reki hates herself so much, that she pushes the last one away that she has, thinking she doesn’t deserve the love that she gets (just as Rakka used to think, which was made explicit during her conversation with the Communicator). She hates herself so much she can not accept the positive feelings towards her and does everything to push them away. Furthermore her plan to use Rakka for her own salvation failed, Reki abandons herself completely. Showing what she thinks is her true self to Rakka is relieving to her, since she doesn’t have to act anymore, can finally show how she really is and can finally get a reaction she thinks is appropriate to her (= abandonment). She tells Rakka to go out. Rakka, completely agonized and shattered by Reki’s words, leaves the room and Reki alone. This makes Reki’s isolation complete and her situation ultimately hopeless, because Rakka, who was the last hope to help Reki and the only one who was even trying, abandons Reki and feels to hurt and betrayed that it is unlikely that she will come again. Inside the room, Reki is isolated. Reki even compared the room to a cocoon, which is a symbol for isolation in itself as discussed before, emphasizing that theme. In the first episode, Reki said that there shouldn’t be help to break the cacoon – if there was help, the hatchling wouldn’t grow strong. This implied that she viewed to get help as a weakness right off the bat. But alone she can neither leave the cacoon nor her room nor her dream nor her negative self-image. All those words are synonyms in this situation. This is implied by how Reki said, that she never stopped having that dream – implying she never stopped feeling as worthless and guilty as she did in her past life. She was never awake and always in a dream – isolating her from the “real world”. She never stopped abandoning herself, as she abandoned herself on the railway.

When Rakka leaves, Reki has a conversation with a younger version of herself. A version, who actively wants to ask for help and saw this opportunity to help within Rakka, who reached out to Reki. Reki refused, says that she doesn’t deserve to be saved – her younger version desperately asked if she can’t even ask for it. She confronts Reki with her fears, if she was afraid to be betrayed. Reki agrees, agonizing, watching her younger self turn into stone and dissolving (symbolizing Reki’s wish to become a stone, Reki’s own loneliness [even a part of herself leaves her…by becoming that what Reki wanted. But Reki’s agony shows that she clearly did not want this] and her fear of vanishing if she can’t get salvation). She claims that there was no way of asking for help. After all salvation has never come to her. The younger self replies, it is because she never asked for help. She only did passively wait. By this, the younger self represents Reki’s own desires, not only turning into stone, but a Reki who wants to be helped, who isn’t afraid to ask. Reki on the other hand was too afraid for help, because being refused would confirm to her, that she was truly alone and nobody there to help her. Instead of acting she avoided it, the uncertainty was less agonizing than the possible truth and confirmation, that there was really nobody there for her. That somebody could help her never crossed her mind, due to that asking for help would mean to open up, to show her side that she considers “impure”, which would dispel any willingness to help from the person who offers help. Reki hugs her dissolving self, an act of despair (she can not stop herself from dissolving) and last act of self-care alike. Her other self vanishes and Reki is truly alone in her room. The painting comes alive and Reki is shown agonizing, waiting her fate. She knows what this fate is, since this situation perfectly mirrors her past experience, which she not only knows because of her dream but the as well as the letter which accompanied her true name.

Outside the door, deeply hurt Rakka begins to cry, thinking that she can’t love Reki anymore. And this would be the end of it…if Haibane Renmei wasn’t a story that would value connection, empathy and forgiveness.

  Breaking the circle of sin – breaking the circle of isolation

 Before talking about the theme of connection in Haibane Renmei further, this analysis will examine the Circle of Sin, as it presents itself as a closed, isolated system like a circle always leading back to the starting point – seemingly without a way to break free. Despite their name “sin” and “sin-bound” are original concepts within Haibane Renmei, working by their own rules which this analysis will try to approach. The first information we get about sin-bound Haibane are embedded in Reki’s and Rakka’s dialogue, after Rakka becomes sin-bound. Reki explains the sin-bound Haibane as Haibane who are not blessed and who are unable to remember their dream within the cocoon. Sin-bound Haibane are unable to receive their Day of Flight. Reki distinguishes between “good” and sin-bound Haibane – marking herself as bad in the process. During the dialog with Rakka on the other hand she claims that Rakka is not sin-bound because her feathers were charcoal when she emerged from the cacoon – Reki strengthens her point by telling Rakka that it was her who took care of her and saw this, emphasizing their connection in a positive way, using it as a proof for Rakka’s “goodness”. At this point Reki tries to comfort Rakka, but telling her that they are not alike creating a gap between them. On the other hand Reki is secretly comforted by the fact that Rakka is like her – explaining her feeling of loneliness when Rakka is no longer sin-bound. Within Reki’s explanation the title sin-bound seems like a condition that is inherited within a Haibane. As Reki views it, it can neither be obtained (as she denies that Rakka is sin-bound despite her black feathers) nor shed off (as she says, sin-bound Haibane can never achieve their Day of Flight). This reflects how hopeless she sees her own situation, having no hope in ever breaking her condition. She claims that it is something that just doesn’t work (because nothing she did to break from the condition showed effect) – but because nothing works it only strengths her despair and her feeling of being trapped in her situation. Again, at first it seems that there are “good” and “sin-bound” Haibane and there is no way of development and change. But when Rakka meets the Communicator within the forest, he discusses the circle of sin with her and we learn that there is more to the nature of “sin”.

The Communicator says that Rakka’s wings and Halo are the proof that she has no sins to be atoned. Noticing that Rakka bleaches her wings and her sin-bound condition and Rakkas question whether she was a sinner, leads the Communicator to tell Rakka a riddle. Rakka is convinced that she is a sinner and not supposed to be here – she feels that she doesn’t deserve the kindness she receives from the town. This leads to following dialogue, the Riddle of the Circle of sin.

 Communicator: "To recognize one's own sin is to have no sin. I ask you, are you a sinner.”

Rakka: “If the dream in my cocoon was real, then I think I am a sinner.”

Communicator: “Then, are you recognizing your own sin?”

Rakka: “If so, will my sin be erased?”

Communicator: "Then I ask you again. To recognize one's own sin is to have no sin. So, are you a sinner?"

Rakka: "But if I think I have no sin, then I become a sinner!"

Communicator: "Perhaps this is what it means to be bound by sin. To spin in the same circle, looking for where the sin lies, and at some point losing sight of the way out."

 There we see that Rakka proclaims herself a sinner no matter the circumstances. She thinks she is a sinner because of neglecting the person, who is represented by the bird, and was unable to acknowledge their care – leaving thinking nobody was there for her, unable to see someone was indeed with her, hurting the feelings of the person. Rakka equals “recognizing the sin” with “erasure of the sin”. But the Communicator corrects her, that “recognizing the sin” equals “having no sin” – therefore there is no sin to be erased. But Rakka misunderstands the remark, calling herself a sinner again – if she sets herself free from the belief that she has a sin and thinks she has no sin (= not recognizing it), she will become a sinner. This comment of the Communicator shows that this is, what he is talking about by the Circle of Sin: Being caught in the idea of being a sinner, being obsessed with the idea of a bad person and struggling with getting another perspective of oneself. This is not a sin, because there is no sin in the first place. Sin-bound Haibane don’t have sin – they are obsessed with the thought of having one, being obsessed with negative thoughts. A way out of the sin-bound condition is to make a “reality-check”, realizing that those intrusive thoughts are not true. This is shown with how Rakka was obsessed with the thought that she didn’t matter and that nobody would care about her – Rakka recognizes those thoughts and realizes that they don’t withstand reality. That indeed people care about her – this is highlighted not only with the bird, but with Reki (who hugs her when she finds her at the edge of the forest) and the other Haibane as well who desperately search for her. Rakka’s condition strongly paralleled with her situation in the past – in both time she realizes that there are people who love her and care for her and miss her when she is gone.

When Rakka consults the Communicator later on in Episode 9, there are other details about the Circle of Sin revealed. The key to break free from the Circle of Sin is forgiveness, especially forgiving oneself. But sin-bound Haibane are so obsessed with negative thoughts about themselves that they are not able to forgive themselves. Therefore another person is needed who stands by the side of the Haibane and believes in them. Offering forgiveness for the Haibane to their “sin” will break the Circle of Sin and enable the Haibane to take another perspective on themselves. Note that there is no “sin” and the Haibane are not shamed as being “sinful” for their depression. There is no sin. But there is the perception of being “sinful”, or to use other word “flawed” or “not worthy love” that leads the Haibane to be sin-bound. In other words: There is no “being bad” but only the perception of “being a bad person” that lead the Haibane to be obsessed with those ideas, their minds literally circle around it, their negative thoughts about themselves reflect in the black stains of the wings. But the reality is that they are not, but being forgiven for it (and the negative behavior that was caused by those thoughts) loosens the burden and enables the Haibane to forgive themselves. The escape from the Circle of Sin is not atonement or any sort of “making up for it” (this is why Reki’s attempt to reach salvation by taking care of Rakka didn’t work) – but sheer forgiveness. Rakka’s statement that it was not like she forgave herself, implies that forgiving oneself is not necessary to free oneself from being sin-bound. Receiving forgiveness from another person is enough, it is not necessary to be able to forgive oneself. On the other hand being able to receive forgiveness from others requires to forgive oneself to a certain degree. But forgiveness from others and being free from being sin-bound is only one step – the last step is to overcome to behavior and the thoughts that are bound by the perception of being a “bad person”.

This act of overcoming is shown with Rakka, who was obsessed with the idea that she was all alone – realizing that she is not, that people care for her, that she deserves to be happy and she starts to connect with others again. It is also shown with Reki finally asking for help (we will get to this in a minute).

But what makes a Haibane sin-bound? It is shown that the Haibane are born without memories but not without a blank slate as their emotional life. Rakka felt always insignificant, questioning herself and whether she had the right to exist. Those feelings erupted after Kuu’s departure where she questioned her existence even further and starts to isolate herself, thinking nobody would understand her, being afraid to open up to others and unable to receive their care - which she did before in her past life. Reki on the other hand is more obscure, since she had been sin-bound from the very beginning. But it is shown that she is born alone. Knowing how painful the progress is, Reki must have felt scared and abandoned, it is possible that she wanted help and even called for it – but nobody listened; which is exactly the thought pattern she had in her past life, which may confirm these already existing thought for her (even though she doesn’t remember, the feeling of always being betrayed and being unable to ask for help was still left). So a Haibane may become sin-bound if they fall back into destructive thought patterns that lead to their demise in their first life. It may also be called Circle of Sin because it never stops and it reaches from the previous life to the life of the Haibane. Connection to others, empathy and forgiveness are the key to overcome the “sin-bound” status. Breaking the Circle of Isolation means to break the Circle of Sin.

 But even before introducing this concept, connection, forgiveness and empathy is something the narratives values strongly.

Kuramori emphasized with Reki and connected to her, helped her with her wings, acted like a mother figure to her and helped her to find to place in Old Home. Reki forgave Nemu mistreating her, emphasized with her as she gave her food and both connect by caring for Kuramori.

Hyouko emphasized with Reki, as she was depressed due to the loss of Kuramori and wanted to help her. He and Midori gave her a new home and Hyouko wanted to do help her more since she understood how much she missed Kuramori. Even though the attempt to help her ended intro tragedy and a long time rip in their relationship, they are able to reconcile their relationship. While Reki is nearly to her darkest point and closing herself up in her room, entirely giving up on action or interaction (which is even emphasized due contrast by the fact that there is a festival, the sense of community and happiness), Hyouko and Midori seek out for her and sending her a message of forgiveness by using fireworks. While Reki has expressed her apology (and her goodbye) before by the bell nuts, she shuts herself up after this. But Midori and Hyouko reach out on their behalves, not allowing it to be a one-way-communication. The firework their launch for Reki represents their forgiveness. This leads to reconciling their relationship, something Reki had already given up to.

But even before reconciling and apology happened on a smaller scale, since Hyouko and Midori gave the Haibane from Old Home sweets. These sweets serve as an apology as Hyouko had made Rakka upset by talking about Kuu’s Day of Flight (that he apologizes for it underlines is empathic personality that he also showed with Reki. It is even possible that Rakka reminded him of Reki). The treat symbolizes the reconciling between Old Home and the Old Factory and serve as a thematic foreshadowing to Hyouko’s, Midori’s and Reki’s reunion.

Nemu is so worried and cares so much about Reki that it is introduced that the only thing that makes her stay in the town of Glie.

Reki supports Rakka after she becomes sin-bound, she reaches out for Rakka, when she started to cut herself of from everybody and avoids every contact because of the grief and shame she feels. She shows compassion to Rakka and hugs her, comforts her, tells her, that she did nothing wrong. Just like Kuramori treated her. On the other hand, Rakka is so emphatic enough that she notices how Reki hides her grief and sadness behind her smile. This becomes extremely noticeable as Reki cuts herself off more and more over the span of the last episodes and Rakka constantly ponders how she could help her. Rakka is both, extremely empathic and helpful and she loves Reki. This leads her to finally reach out to Reki as the final attempt to save her – and as the last opportunity – give her the tag with her real name.

 But as described above the situation escalates horribly, worsening Reki’s despair even more instead of saving her (which is symbolized by her wings turning even more black). She not only abandoned herself again, after realizing that she used to abandon herself and feel the same before and that there apparently no way out. Her harsh words to Rakka made Rakka abandoning her. This situation parallels three other constellations within the story. First of all, it mirrors the relationship between Reki and Kuramori. Reki was distraught because she thought, her mentor and mother figure betrayed her and never cared for her in the first place – now she is the one who betrays Rakka by telling her that she only used her as an attempt to ease her guilt, find salvation and be forgiven.

The other is that Reki’s past situation before becoming a Haibane is mirrored in her lowest point. Thinking she is worthless, being only betrayed and unable to ask for help.

The last situation is the constellation between Rakka and the bird. Rakka parallels Reki, as both cut themselves up from the world, convinced they are all alone and hurting another person in the process. Rakka parallels the bird who tries to save the other person, who is not able to accept their feelings. They want to convince them, that they are not alone, but they are hurt and unable to know what to do. Also, Reki’s room parallels Rakka’s well. Both are isolated places, where the person is locked in – either due physical or emotional borders. While Rakka’s well represented her feeling of emptiness, Reki’s room symbolizes the darkness of her heart (that she painted the room this way herself indicates that her negative self-image is not the real Reki. She paints the room as she paints herself in dark colors). In both cases, the past in confronted and overcome, both Reki and Rakka are able to overcome the sin-bound status. But there is still a long way to go before Reki is able to forgive herself…  

 Rakka is crying in despair, but she still refuses to think that Reki’s words are true. But she comes to the conclusion that she wished not to know, because she could continue loving Reki – implying that she can’t love her anymore. But Rakka’s view changes as she finds the painting of Kuramori which symbolizes that Reki once genuinely cared for a person. She says she wants to believe Reki, but is still in doubt. These doubts however vanish in another step, namely when she finds Reki’s diary. The first pages imply Reki’s hopelessness because she apologizes to Kuramori for not being forgiven. The next pages on the other hand show sketches from the town, showing that Reki still loved the town in a way despite viewing it as a prison. Last but not least one page shows Reki’s genuine, ecstatic happiness about finding the cocoon. She even thinks God send it to her – launching her thoughts that this Haibane could be a way to find salvation. She expresses that she wants to be very kind to the Haibane and wants to always be with her. She expresses her wish, that she wants to be a good Haibane, like Kuramori. The entry show that Reki doesn’t have ill intentions, she just wants to be a good person. This is empathized by the form of the diary, she writes it for herself and it is not intended to be shown to anyone. So Reki does not have to play-act – the diary implies that these are her true feelings. Feelings who are not as impure as she thinks they are. Rakka remembers as Reki talks to her when she was in the cocoon. How Reki expresses her happiness.  She says, that the initial period as a Haibane may scare Rakka and she may feel lonely, but she promises to be always there for Rakka, protecting her. Reki promises to be there for Rakka no matter what. With that she is showing her unconditional love before she was even born. On the other hand, Reki “entrusts Rakka with her last hope”. This is not the selfish enrichment that Reki makes it to be – it is putting trust into another person. And Rakka – realizing that Reki was there for her right in the beginning – fulfills that trust. She emphasizes with Reki with empathy as the key for forgiveness. She not only recognizes that Reki is kindhearted, but is not able to recognize it herself and that Reki’s self-image is not the necessary the real Reki and her real feelings. She realizes how similar hers and Reki’s situations are and decides to become “the bird” for Reki, somebody who offers her forgiveness and shows her that she is not alone and being loved the way she is. By this, Rakka not only chooses to forgive Reki, but finally also her own actions, who are extremely similar. By forgiving Reki, Rakka is able to forgive herself.    

Even though Reki shut herself in, Rakka wants to reach her, help her. The separation between both is symbolized by the door. This is reminiscent to the scene where Reki discovers Rakka being sin-bound. Rakka flees into the room, isolates herself, only for Reki opening the door, stopping her from hurting herself, giving her help and comfort, telling her that there is nothing wrong with her. Furthermore that parallels Reki’s past, when she was the one who cut her feathers, only to be stopped and comforted by Kuramori. Now it is on Rakka to overcome Reki’s self-induced isolation, to offer her comfort, to tell her, she is okay. In the current scene, Rakka opens the door, overcomes the isolation, breaks the cocoon from the outside – and steps right into Reki’s dream that became reality (similar how Reki’s negative self-image is reality to her). Rakka sees Reki lying on the railway in distance to her. As she tries to get close, connect with her, it is the younger Reki who holds her back, claiming that Reki is no longer able to hear her. This furthers the isolation between them too. The younger Reki claims it to be too late, paralleling the bird, who tried to stop Rakka’s fall with Rakka telling it that it is no use anymore. Rakka is in the same situation, trying to save a person but this person tell her it is too late and no use anymore. But Rakka doesn’t give up on her, calling out to her desperately. In before the younger Reki was used to contrast the real Reki, questioning her choices and symbolized the wishes Reki had and couldn’t make true, therefore she had an opposing role. This time, she acts according Reki’s wishes, holds Rakka back as Reki decided to vanish. But Rakka is – thanks to empathy – able to realize what Reki really wanted, able to realize that Reki is asking her for help. But knowing that she can only help Reki if she asks for help (because younger Reki holds her back because of Reki’s desire not to get help but to disappear), she calls out to her, asks her to say, Reki needs her. The train (not only representing a real train [reminiscent how Reki may have died in her first life by walking in front of a train] but also symbolizing Reki’s depression and struggles) is getting closer to Reki. In this moment, Reki is able to notice Rakka, is able to realize that Rakka truly cares for her and truly wants to help her – and is finally able to ask for help. This shatters the dream and Reki’s nametag alike, the younger Reki is dissolving. Rakka saves Reki from the incoming train, as she is paralyzed by fear.

Being forgiven by Rakka and forgiving herself through Rakka’s forgiveness by asking for help (if she hadn’t for forgiven herself, she would let herself run over regardless thinking she deserves it) frees Reki from her sin-bound status. Finally she is able to receive the Day of Flight. And this time, the Day of Flight is not seen as a negative event or as a loss, but as an opportunity to see each other again. Rakka and Nemu both view Reki’s Day of Flight with relieve and happiness for her, even though they will miss her.

In the end, Reki won her bet, as the Haibane emerging from the cocoon was the one who helped her to overcome her sin-bound status.

After she is gone, Reki is still valued. Everyone keeps her in good memories, her pictures are cherished and wall-hung for everyone to see. The last sentence of the whole series is Rakka saying “I will never forget Reki”, highlighting the value of memory and that a person is never gone when you remember them.  

 Reki’s and Rakka’s proneness to isolating behavior reflects in their names. For Rakka, it is Rakka’s “true name”, which has been presented to her by the Communicator. Her “true name” means “involved nut”. It reflects how she used to isolate herself from the world, shut herself up within the dark. Without willing to make any connections to the outside. It also represents her change, how she connected with other people. A nut is a seed (similar to the cocoons the Haibane start their lives in and that does eventually break same as Rakka’s isolation broke). A seed means growth, which reflected how Rakka grew. From a clueless newcomer Haibane with no idea about the world, she began to be actively involved with other people and the world around her. Even if learning about the world and herself was a painful progress (suffering from a loss, becoming caught up in her own grief), she overcomes this pain and reaches out for other people. By getting involved with the crows, she can receive forgiveness from the crow that represented a beloved person and save herself. By other people getting involved with her, she is saved vice versa e.g. how the Touga saved her in the well or how Reki shows her compassion after Rakka becomes sin-bound. She is no longer someone who cuts herself off from others, but interacts with others willingly. She became close friends with all her fellow Haibane and after being forgiven by the bird, she is able to accept their kindness. Most importantly she also chooses to involve herself in Reki’s problems, when everyone else thinks that is not possible (how Midori said Reki cannot be helped, because she doesn’t want help and gives up because of this. Rakka on the other hand doesn’t give up on Reki and stays involved). In the end, it is Rakka’s final choice of involvement and of action and her choice of forgiveness that saves Reki.  

While the isolation and breaking up this isolation is the main theme of Rakka’s true name, isolation is the theme of Reki’s name as a Haibane. Reki means “small stone”. It reflects her desires to become a stone in a sense of becoming unfeeling, numb to pain, but also unable to act or interact. While a seed has life in it and it has the possibility to grow, a stone is a dead, static object (this also reflects how Rakka was able to change, to get rid from being sin-bound while Reki wasn’t). So Reki’s name is a lot more depressing than Rakka’s, which has a hopeful perspective and indicates change. It gets even worse when Reki’s “true name” – that is supposed to reflect the true nature of a Haibane – means “The one who was run over and torn apart”, giving Reki’s name an even more negative, destructive and hopeless perspective. For Reki, there is no other perspective than being destroyed. Or so it seems. Because when Reki overcomes her own flaws, the name changes. In before Reki’s true name reflected the result her destructive behavior led to in the end and what is about to happen all over again: To be run over and torn apart. Both figuratively (by her own feelings) and literally (by the train). By changing, by being able to ask for help this time, Reki’s fate changes and so does her name.    

This is especially interesting because one would think a “true name” can not change, it is established and set in stone – but in Reki’s case it does according to the choice she makes. So it is very possible that Rakka’s “true name” was something else as well before she started to open up. Even if it is a “true name” it changes. Even something that is considered as someone’s “essential nature” may change! Even if her first “true name” was so negative and let Reki fall into despair – it still had the potential of changing. This is similar how Reki presented the sin-bound status, saying Haibane who are sin-bound can never reach their Day of Flight. That being sin-bound is not a set status is shown with Rakka at first, who becomes sin-bound and is also able to overcome being sin-bound over the course of the story. It is a fleeting status, nothing that is there forever. Nothing is set in stone. This also reflects in Reki’s relationship with Midori and Hyouko. It made the impression to be always strain, since they were even officially forbidden to interact with each other – but in the end they were able to reconcile their relationship and forgive each other. Reki who thought that there was never help for her and she would always be betrayed and that there was no salvation for her in the first place is proven wrong in all these aspects by Rakka. Reki’s true name returns to mean “stone” again – but this time it is a stepping stone. Someone who supports the weak with their strength. The stone that Reki represents is no longer an unfeeling, unconnected object, but something that interacts with others, connects with others, supports others. Her name highlights her caring nature, a nature Reki denied to have in her self-hate, but now is ultimately confirmed to her. Her “true name” and her name as a Haibane were both connoted negatively – but her new true name emphasizes gave her not only a positive true name but also a positive, hopeful connotation to her being a stone.    

 Haibane values connections to others and forgiveness. It doesn’t shy away from showing how people get hurt by loss and hurting each other and themselves and the effects of it. But in the end there stands the overcoming of grief and (self)hatred and grudge in favor of forgiveness, empathy and love.

On top of that it shows even if a situation seems to be hopeless and that there is no way out of it to the point that they are perceived as fate or “essential nature” – there is always, always the possibility of change and improvement.