#there is no one true ship answer to this because everyone wants this miserable wet meow meow

[thesugarhole]

[intergalacticwanderer]

It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,�� Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.”  A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

[riddlecrux]

Miserable together, happy apart: a dive into Elain and Lucien's relationship

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. Due to the fact that this topic is connected with a raging shipping war, I would like to make an important note at the beginning of this (probably) long comparison post. This meta will be touching subjects such as trauma, forced and unhealthy relationships, being uncomfortable around the other person, and enforced feeling of duty. On that note, it's anti Elain and Lucien relationship.

The starting point of the whole relationship and mating bond begins in ACOMAF, when Lucien contributes to Archeron sisters being kidnapped - leading to them being Made. I'm very concerned with the way how this fandom seems to collectively forget about the trauma that Elain went through when she was pushed inside the Cauldron. After ACOSF we are left with the idea that being Made wasn't pleasant - on the contrary, it was horrible and scary, it left Nesta with psychological scars and mental barriers. So why are people forgetting that, in fact, it was Elain who undergone the same terrifying experience first? SJM had described this whole situation very vividly and painfully detailed. It was there to show us that both Elain and Nesta went through something disturbing and traumatizing. That's why I would like to start with a notion of TRAUMA:

"Elain’s foot hit the water, and she screamed—screamed in terror that hit me so deep I began sobbing."

Feyre is there to witness her sisters being shoved into Cauldron and one can only imagine how terrifying it was to observe such a thing. However, there is no amount of words to describe how utterly frightening it was for Elain to be pushed into the unknown. She was the first one, an experiment for everyone to see.

"More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare."

Elain was a proper lady. She was the one who went along with the prevailing etiquette and rules. Feyre notices Elain's bare skin and how she doesn't even remember when was the last time she saw so much of it in the broad daylight. Elain was modest, she followed the social obligations and we as readers are presented with the fact that all her principles are being violated in front of these strangers and people she knew from before.

"Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered."

She was let out in the open after such a traumatizing event. Just after being Made, the first thing she experiences is another form of trauma. She is involuntary stripped bare in front of males, her proper upbringing and modesty ruined as they openly laugh at her nakedness. It's another traumatic event, not even a moment after her whole human life was taken away from her.

"As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him—"

It's not surprising that she acted that way. He is yet another male who appears out of nowhere, comes at her when she is in a very vulnerable position. Not to mention, that he is connected to the fact that she and Nesta were kidnapped and used as hostages. He plays a role in her trauma, a trauma that is still happening around her. Elain is subjected to watch her older sister going through the same thing she went through.

"Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”"

I would say that it wasn't a good thing to say at that moment. It's yet another brick in the wall of traumas that Elain just went through. She lost her human life, she was Made, she lost her human fiance, was kidnapped and used as an experiment, ridiculed due to her nakedness and vulnerability, watched her sister being shoved into the Cauldron. Now she is presented with the fact that she was stripped off of her free will, and she still doesn't have freedom of choice. The lack of choice is evident, she just doesn't let it fall upon her as the trauma she had just endured was too great to even imagine how that declaration could shake her already broken heart.

“From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.” But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

Elain is aware of the fact that he was a part of her trauma. He was there when she got kidnapped and watched her being Made. She acknowledges the fact that he is partially responsible for what has happened to her and her sister. Not only Elain but Lucien as well. Lucien is also very much aware of the fact that he had contributed to her pain and hardship. Those feelings are also very prominent in the way he approaches her and behaves around her. The knowledge that she is that way because of his mistake.

FORCED RELATIONSHIP:

Both Elain and Lucien find themselves forced to "be" together. It wasn't a natural thing that happened between them, not a healthy type of bond snapping in its place. They were put together because of the Cauldron's decision.

She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.

Even Lucien, who had loved and lost his previous lover acknowledges the fact that it is something that both of them didn't want. Their bond essentially stripped both of them of their free will. They hadn't chosen each other, they were just put together in a fickle decision of The Cauldron. His previous love story signalizes that Lucien also wants to be chosen, wants to be loved by someone who decided that he is the man that the other person wants to love and spend their life with him.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing.

Lucien has also his own issues - family feud, the fact that his friend betrayed him and in the end, it was him who did the same. He has troubles on his mind that are concerning. He's self-conscious in front of Elain because as Lucien is a reminder of her trauma - she is a reminder of his biggest mistake and another painful ending on his part. She's a living proof of his betrayal, how he went against his common sense and stabbed his friend, Feyre, in the back by bringing her sister into the scene.

The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.” She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride. A mortal man’s wife. Or she would have been.

He is aware of the fact that Elain doesn't feel anything for him, that she was promised to another and she had planned her life with that person. Just like him in the past - it was his choice to love, want, and need Jesminda. As he's trying to keep his composure the feelings of the bond swirl around, yet Lucien still understands that both of them ended up with something they didn't want.

“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Even though they were "blessed" with this bond, the thread of it is weak and very unlike the other ones in SJM universe. As if it wasn't working properly - they both do not complete each other. Few pages before Elain says that she can hear Feyre's and Nesta's heartbeat and yet her mate can't hear hers? How is that possible? Also Lucien doesn't understand Elain - he sees her as someone who is devastated by her ruined human life, which is true, but right we as readers know by now that Elain was suffering because nobody seemed to realize what was wrong with her. Their first meeting doesn't spark hope for their future. It only showcases how wrong they both are for each other, two wounds plastered against each other.

BEING UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND EACH OTHER: Sadly both Elain and Lucien are pushed together by Feyre and her little meddling - which isn't something that they both want to undergo.

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall. (...) Pretending, while Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them.

Even Feyre admits that a previously arranged get-together was a mistake. Because Lucien and Elain are wary of their presence around each other, they constantly remind each other's traumas and painful memories. Elain can barely stand his presence and Lucien is aware of that fact - the only thing that keeps him trying to break that barrier is their bond.

She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” Mor put a hand on my knee to keep me from rising, too. “It—it was a tug. On the bond.”

Even their mating bond isn't a thing of comfort. They can't navigate through it, both of them uncomfortable because of their proximity. Lucien feels as if he has to repay his debt towards Elain, however, neither of them wants to close the distance. Their wounds are still fresh, both of them not entirely healed. They are constantly rubbing their hurt on each other, meeting after meeting.

“Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry“.

He feels guilty all the time he's around her. He can't navigate through the mating bond as it doesn't work properly. It's uncomfortable, hurtful, and tense. Just like the relationship between them, it is not a good thing. They are basically strangers thrown at each other after seeing the other person at their lowest. It's not a coincidence that the bond between them is a mirror to their rough, strained relation.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Even with the bond, Lucien can't understand what Elain needs. They are basically strangers, yet the bond doesn't do anything to him in regards to helping her. They are constantly uncomfortable around each other, they try to avoid each other throughout the series because of the fact that they both don't want to be in this forced relationship. Lucien feels obliged to keep persuading her due to the bond, whereas Elain wants nothing to do with the said bond. They are in a maze of constant avoidance and unbearable proximity, which is very soundly described in the text and I would like to present some very important passages:

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle.

No, as Elain took a step back, hand falling away from the doorknob, she revealed Lucien smiling tightly at us both. “Happy Solstice,” was all he said.

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m—” But she was already out of the room.

I would love to bring attention to the fact that Lucien understands and realizes that their relationships will never work. He acknowledges it in the text, with his own words!

"Give her time to accept it.” “To accept a life shackled to me?”

“Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.

He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

ELAIN'S AGENCY: Throughout ACOWAR, ACOFAS and ACOSF Elain tries to get away from the bond and in conclusion also from Lucien himself. She doesn't acknowledge their bond and time after time she runs away from the fact that they are bound to each other. The thing is, Elain, probably doesn't know how to break their bond - we as readers are reminded in Azriel's POV how important their mating bond is for the Night Court, which makes her a sort of political pawn. It is yet another thing that is taken away from her, which to be honest is a kind of a hypocritical thing coming from Rhys and Feyre. We know that Elain is timid, however after slowly recovering from her trauma she started to voice out her discomfort connected to Lucien and their forced relationship.

I knew I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry with anyone but myself, but I said, “You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?” Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter. “He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

Lucien still makes her uncomfortable, he is a constant reminder of her trauma and lost life. Another thing is that Lucien doesn't even know her, doesn't see her which is something that is very important to her. Everything he does is based on the fact that he is connected to her via mating bond, not by his own free choice. Which, again, is presented to us in her own words in the text:

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.” “You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

It doesn't help that the one who pushes her forward into this spiral of unbearable proximity with someone she hadn't chosen and don't want to be around, is her own sister. Yet, she stands her ground and sets boundaries. She is her own person and she wants to get to chose. ELAIN AROUND LUCIEN:

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said.

I said to Lucien when we’d settled in the armchairs before the fire, Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him.

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice (...).

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap.

Elain now watched Lucien warily. Blinking every now and then.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions.

Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

As you can see Elain feels: - uncomfortable - on edge - withdrawn - wary - closed off - silenced (she always loses the will to speak around Lucien, going deeper inside of her) - melancholic (she watches as kettle boil without flinching as if she wandered in the maze of her mind). Elain loses her comfort and courage around Lucien, which is problematic and utterly sad to witness. He is a constant reminder for her of violation against her own free will, but also a living proof of her own trauma. LUCIEN AROUND ELAIN:

Lucien surveyed it all with cool indifference. What he felt about Elain, what he planned to do … I didn’t want to ask.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet.

He didn’t expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he’d rise from this chair and leave.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once.

He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

“I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.”

Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Lucien silently slid into one of the chairs, before the window, that metal eye whirring as it roved over my sister.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye —the longing and sadness.

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

Lucien feels: - uncomfortable - guilty - uneasy - confused (especially in the moments where Elain is having visions and he doesn't understand what's happening with her) - apologetic (he is constantly saying sorry to her) - tense

The guilt eats him every time he is around Elain, he is constantly apologizing while battling his inner problems such as remembering his true love. He was stripped off of his choice and even if the mating bond is there, he isn't happy. He is in constant pain just like Elain because both of them are each other wounds, each other reminder of trauma. They can't heal together because they are only happy when they are apart - Elain blooms in the Night Court, as we have read in ACOSF she is coming up with terms of Fae life and her own powers, adjusting her life to the notion of immortality. She is content and courageous and yet everything vanishes when Lucien is around. The same thing goes for Lucien. Lucien was struggling with her around him - he didn't know her, he didn't know what was happening to her as well. They were both strangers thrown at each other without their own say in this whole situation. Not to mention that their meetings were always arranged and supervised by others. When he sets on the journey to find Vassa he finds freedom and belonging - which was something he was battling in ACOWAR, after betraying his friends and his court, after being at odds in Night Court, and after being uncomfortable around his mate. He didn't have that sense of belonging in any of those things.

Elain and Lucien aren't compatible nor perfect for each other. They are constant reminders of traumas they experienced. They will never work out because they make each other miserable while being together, and they feel free and content apart. Their happiness lies with free choice, free will both of them were looking for in their lives. They are bound together against their own, and the only key for them being happy in this farce is setting themselves free. A choice of freedom. I strongly believe that after their rejection of the bond both of them could, perhaps, form a friendship. It would have been some sort of catharsis - to dwell upon the fact that they overcame that obstacle. That they chose to be happy apart, and not be shackled by this miserable bond.

[rwby-necro-au-archive]

The Kid, The Songbird, and The End.

Clover would never understand why the prisons had open courtyards for the prisoners.

It was constantly freezing, and the prisoners never had enough to wear to keep them warm. Typical.

He gracefully rushed to his hiding spot along the out rim of the open concrete courtyard, waiting. The prison break was going to start any minute, he needed to mentally and physically prepared in case the guards put up a fight.

“Sirens and Cameras deactivated, proceed.” A woman’s voice sounded through his radio. Good, at least that part was out of the way. The harder it was to deactivate the sirens and cameras, the riskier the mission.

This one was simple in comparison to the others, get everyone out, get a move on to Vale. At least, that’s what the other songbirds had to do, Clover notified his boss that he needed to go get intel from the main council building.

A dangerous and stupid move for sure, but one that would be thanked and rewarded if he managed to do it correctly.

He laughed quietly to himself “Not even a full 2 months in yet and I’m already trying to get myself killed, how typical of me huh?” He thought to himself.

He looked over to his boss who nodded and gave an ok signal to begin the raid. Clover quietly hopped down the concrete wall he had been standing on and ran up behind a pursuer.

He quickly knocked the Pursuer unconscious and moved on to the next, and the next, and the one after that, until at least 15 of them were knocked unconscious.

It was better if he didn’t look at the faces. He didn’t want to recognize anyone from the miserable life he was brainwashed into thinking he loved. And he especially didn’t want anyone recognizing him.

Clover approached the command center of the prison. After some pondering over the buttons, he pressed one and almost all the steel prison doors opened below him.

His radio sounded again, this time, the voice of his boss, “Great Job, remember, solitary confinement cells have a different control center. It’ll be harder to find that one.”

Clover just laughed before speaking into the radio “Eh, I don’t think it’ll be that hard. You know, since the whole thing that happened in my past.”

His boss responded “That is true, but with that you gotta remember to keep you head down, face covered, or they’ll recognize you.”

“Copy That.” Clover then darted down the stairs to direct the prisoners to where to leave. He couldn’t lie, he really honest to Cosmos couldn’t, he liked the job. Liked the adrenaline, liked helping people. Maybe that’s part of the reason he was so good at his previous job, being able to work quick on adrenaline.

This wasn’t that job though, and he got more of a kick doing this then he would’ve ever gotten from being a pursuer. He was meant to be here.

As he reached solitary confinement he slowed his pace. Guards. Seems there were still a few that needed to be taken care of. Clover ducked into a hall behind a few boxes, full of what, he didn’t know, nor did he want to know.

After the guards had passed, he speedily but quietly ran down the hall. He skimmed over the door labels until he saw one he almost passed, labeled “command center”. He quickly ducked into the room.

Looks like he didn’t check before he went in.

“Who the hell are you?!” The pursuer sitting in the command center chair yelled. She had a white uniform on, the female uniform. Shit. The other guards were gonna hear this chick.

Clover kept up his confidence though, nothing a few punches to the jaw won’t fix. “Nobody important.” He said as he threw her out the door of the command center and locked it. He shook his head and mumbled to himself “Cosmos forgive me for throwing a woman…” he certainly wasn’t the type to like doing that.

Now wasn’t the time for that though, he opened the solitary confinement cell doors and quickly unlocked the door to the room he was in. Time to fight.

——————————————————————————

Successful. The prison raid that is. Everyone got out, and there were minimal problems that popped up during the mission. Everyone was back on the ship and waiting to be sent to Vale.

Everyone, except Clover.

He was running and dodging Pursuers left and right to find this guy he was told about. To be honest, when he joined the whole “send me an ask thing” on the internet, he kinda meant it as a joke. Just to see what the people thought of a pursuer being on the internet.

He sure as fuck wasn’t expecting these people to be some all seeing beings or whatever, but hey, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Anything to make his life a little easier.

Which he could really use right now considering he was kind of getting sick of having to fight all the pursuers defending the capital.

He looked up at the signs and skimmed through them similarly to how he skimmed through the prison signs. He eventually found one labeled dorms and quickly ran in.

As he was running down the hall he was suddenly yanked into a dorm. He reached for his weapon until,

“W-wait don’t shoot! I’m here to help you!!” The shorter man replied. He didn’t look very old, maybe about 17-18 ish, fresh out of highschool from the looks of it. Light brown hair, tan complexion, all topped off with dark blue eyes and the male pursuer uniform.

Clover then realized who he was speaking to, “You’re Rory?” He was dumbfounded. This skinny teenager was the one who got the intel for him, “I mean, good for him for sneaking that shit underneath Irondick’s nose but not what I was expecting to say the least.” He thought.

Rory stuttered out an apology before quickly rustling through the dorm, pulling out three very thick, probably 200 page individually, documents and handed them to Clover. Rory cleared his throat quietly before speaking “I-I was told that you were to be trusted with this stuff…”

Clover read the names, shocked at what he saw. He grimaced down at the papers “Yeah……I know them so yeah, I think I’m to be trusted. And so are you for getting these in the first place…”

Rory looked up and gave a confused look “What’s wrong?”

“I was never really told about this…” Clover stated, avoiding eye contact.

Rory nodded solemnly “Sorry you had to find out like this.”

Clover shook his head “I’m sorry you had to read these…” he couldn’t help but stare at the photographs. They looked nothing like how they looked now. Especially Oz.

“I-I only read one…..I didn’t read the others because after I read the bottom one, I….uh….kinda had to go into the bathroom to throw up….” He mumbled, as he pointed to Ozpin’s document.

Clovers eyebrows furrowed, “Is it really that bad?”

Rory shook his head “I’d say worse.” He fumbled with his hands for a moment, “O-Oh! I wanted to ask, do you think you can take me on the boat with you? I want out of here!” He exclaimed frantically.

“Of course! I can explain your situation, but we need to go, NOW. We’ll be in trouble if we don’t.” Clover peered at the door before grabbing Rory’s wrist and running.

The two ran down the halls of the capital, attempting to make their way out. During the rush of everything, Clover’s hand slipped from Rory’s wrist suddenly.

Rory was caught by 2 other pursuers.

He didn’t even have time to think about it, before he knew it, he was outside. And Rory? Was nowhere to be seen.

——————————————————————————

Rory was shoved forward by the guards, nearly falling in the process as he looked behind him at the pursuers, fearful and confused. It wasn’t until he heard his voice that he realized why they shoved him forward.

——————————————————————————

“Shit.” Clover couldn’t be selfish this time. He just couldn’t. He ran back inside, frantically searching for the younger man.

He turned countless corners until he came into the main hall. Quickly ducking behind a corner at the sight of the one man he didn’t want to see.

He peered out to see Rory there.

——————————————————————————

“So, first, you go against my right opinion, and then next you try and run. Pathetic.” Ironwood spoke cruelly to the younger man.

“I—“ Rory attempted to defend himself, but was not granted such a thing

Ironwood scoffed, “You what? Made me look like a moron in front of the other council members? Is that it?”

There was a long silence.

Rory spoke barely above a whisper, “Is there anything I can do to get your forgiveness….sir?”

Ironwood raised an eyebrow and proceeded to feign thoughtfulness for a moment before smiling down at the young man, “I suppose there is one way you can make it up to me.”

Rory looked up suddenly, surprised at the man’s answer.

Ironwood smiled coldly, “Don’t be anymore of a stain to anyone else, as you have been to me.”

“W-what do you mean s-sir…..” Rory mumbled, confused

Ironwood rolled his eyes and scoffed “Lord, you need a lot of hand holding don’t you? I’m letting you leave, Pursuer. Go, out the door you go.”

Rory was ecstatic, he was letting him leave. Him. Of all people! “T-thank you sir!”

Ironwood smiled “Don’t mention it, I know you won’t be a pain to anyone else after this.”

He stood up straight and ran for the exit. He didn’t think he could be happier in his life. But all would soon came crashing down, and everything would go black.

The last thing he ever felt emotionally, was utter betrayal. And physically? Something wet coming from his forehead

The final thing he ever heard. Was a gunshot. From a man he should’ve never trusted.

——————————————————————————

[nobodyfamousposts]

BURN THE WITCH! Part 5

Yes, I WILL finish this.

Lila was soaking wet and didn’t even have to feign how miserable she was when she managed to make it back to dry land and into the first open store she saw.

Said open store just happened to be the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, where none other than Marinette’s own parents were there to greet her.

And fortunately for Lila, they were all too willing to take her under their protection once she explained the “horrible story” of what had happened.

“Oh you poor girl!”

“Come on upstairs. We have a daughter your age. She should have some extra clothes you can change into.“

“Thank you,” She said with a sniffle. “You’re too kind.”

Lila hadn’t even had to do much to get the gullible couple to let her in. She wished she could be proud of that fact, but their determination to help her probably stemmed more from the fact that she currently looked like a drowned rat.

On the plus side, it meant less effort to get what she needed.

On the down side…she did look like a drowned rat.

It seemed that when the owner of the boat had said for Lila to be “thrown overboard”, she meant it literally. The boat residents were rather unreasonably cross with her and hadn’t been feeling patient enough to hold out for the mob to arrive to collect her. And thus the two had cruelly and rather foolishly tossed Lila off the side of the ship.

It was for the best, as unbeknownst to them, Lila could swim perfectly well. And a dip in the cold water was still preferable to being burned alive.

…Except that contrary to popular belief and portrayal to tourists, the water of the Seine is actually rather polluted, not to mention completely disgusting. The mayor’s incompetence and focus on other arbitrary and more self-centered issues (aka: Chloe’s whim of the day) was no doubt part to blame. So Lila not only looked like a drowned rat, but smelled like one, too.

Gross. Gross. Gross!

At least Sabine had been polite enough to hide her disgust as she led Lila to a bathroom to try and clean up. Not that Lila could take full advantage of that, unfortunately. As much as she wanted to, there was too much risk of something happening. Members of the mob could track her down. Marinette could return and out her. And despite her warnings to the parents to keep the TV off or risk becoming more minions of the akuma, there was still the chance that either might get curious and try to get an update on the Ladyblog.

There was also no telling just how the akuma’s influence could spread. Her classmates had turned against her almost immediately after Rose started talking. Anyone close enough to the akuma seemed to fall under her sway—possibly hearing distance? Then the idiots on the boat had thrown her out immediately after hearing the news report showing the akuma, being so enraged that they didn’t even care about the mob searching for her. The mob which, from what she could tell, was steadily growing in numbers and fanfare. Was that carnival music playing out there? Seriously? It was like her torment was entertainment or something!

And where the hell were Ladybrat and her sidekick? On vacation? They should have made an appearance to try and fight the akuma by now.

Lila huffed.

They were probably taking advantage of her situation to enjoy her suffering. She wouldn’t put it past them. Both of them were annoyingly self-righteous. Looking down on her and using their powers to make themselves seem “special”.

If SHE had powers, none of this would even be happening.

She growled in anger.

And what was taking Hawk Moth? Hadn’t he let this go on long enough? He should be trying to rein in the akuma by now! Or at least have it focus on the real job of dealing with the fake “heroes”.

“Dear, is everything all right?” Sabine asked, knocking on the door.

“Yes, I’m fine!” Lila answered quickly. It wouldn’t do for Marinette’s mother to hear her ruminations, after all. She opened the door, making herself appear shy and insecure. The sort of appearance anyone would see as being innocent and not think twice about her true inner thoughts.

“That’s good.” The older woman said with a smile. Lila had to hold back a questioning look at just how…blasé she was.

What kind of parents were these that they’d just let a random teenager into their daughter’s home and allow her use of her daughter’s belongings? Much less one whom their child had clearly been at odds with previously. Did they not even remember her? Or were they just blinded by their need to help?

It explained where Marinette got it, at least.

“Here is a spare shirt and some pants.” Sabine said, placing them on the table nearby as Lila finished drying off as much as possible with the towel.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly.” Lila falsely tried to decline. “I know your daughter and I aren’t exactly friends and I wouldn’t want to impose…” She trailed off and lowered her eyes, the picture of a sad and pitiable.

Sabine frowned at that, her eyes seeming to flare in indignation at the thought of her daughter being so cruel. “It’s for a good cause. She’ll understand.” The tone of voice made it clear that Sabine wouldn’t accept anything less, which made something inside Lila laugh with glee.

“I hope so.” Lila said, making herself sound uncertain. “I wouldn’t want to cause any problems.”

Marinette’s own mother looked at Lila with more sympathy than she had her own daughter when she was accused. “It won’t be any trouble.” She reassured her as she took Lila’s wet clothes.

“Thank you!” Lila said with a smile. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Not.

Really, you would think her parents would have better sense. But she couldn’t say she was surprised given what she’d seen of them so far. If they were so willing to believe the worst in their daughter with a couple flimsy lies, they really weren’t that dependable. Especially when they were willing to let the very girl who framed their daughter into her home.

Oh well. Marinette’s loss.

Sabine smiled back and left the room. As soon as the door was shut, Lila looked at the clothes with distaste.

Ugh. As if she would want to wear anything owned by little miss “Perfect”.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers at this point.

Knowing Marinette, the girl had probably intended to bring Lila here in the first place. Not smart, given that she would be giving access of her home to someone she knows can’t be trusted, but Marinette more than anyone could be foolishly nice, even to her own detriment.

In retrospect, Lila really should have gone with her in the first place. It would’ve made things so much easier. At the very least, she would have been able to skip the dip in the Seine. 

If she cared, part of her would pity Marinette.

The problem with being “kind“ and “helpful“ was that the more you did it, the less people actually appreciated it. Because of course the nice person would be willing to be imposed upon or have to go out of their way for others, because they always do and that’s just the sort of person they are. No need to even ask them.

It became common—expected even. To the point where people would easily get upset and react poorly even more on the occasion if you weren’t kind as they would if you were actually mean.

It was why Lila feigned so many injuries. Not only did it get her sympathy and patsies to do things for her for a time, but it cemented the exact impression she wanted people to have of her. That she was “delicate”, which led them to avoid imposing on her as they didn’t want to overburden her. This allowed her to avoid having to do too much while still maintaining The impression of being a kind and sweet girl who would do anything to help them, “if only she could”.

It was why she was able to get free lunches and ice cream while Marinette was overwhelmed with requests and work for her friends. Because if Marinette “always” helps, then of course she can take each request they make of her and handle it all. It’s just expected of her.

And if she ever dares to say “no”? Regardless of her reasons or even just sheer inability to make the time, people would still be disappointed in her. She would even be disappointed in herself.

Honestly, Lila wasn’t wrong when she said she would win. How couldn’t she when she was playing with such an advantage while Marinette didn’t even know the game? Lila probably didn’t even need to do anything to win. Either Marinette would tire herself by working endlessly to appease everyone or risk alienating herself by trying to set limits. Lila didn’t even have to be a factor for that.

Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help it along...

Which was why she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to go snooping through Marinette’s room for something to use.

After all, her charade may be over, but Lila at least still had an escape. She could simply go to her mother and complain of bullying, and the woman would act. She would move Lila to a new school, or even transfer to a new placement in her work altogether. She’d done it before. And it had gotten Lila out of situations that were becoming dicey.

Marinette wouldn’t be so lucky. Even if Lila didn’t get to steal Marinette’s friends for herself, she could still turn them against her before she leaves. At least in that way, she would keep her promise that Marinette would end up alone.

It would be a final present to herself as she says goodbye to Paris.

She didn’t even bother to hide the smirk as she made her way up the stairs to what could only be Marinette’s room. It had to be, since it was the direction Sabine had left in to get the clothes for her and none of the other rooms she’d passed looked were what she imagined the goody two-shoes’ room to look like. Once she reached the top of the stairs and opened the door into the final room…

…Yeah, this was more of what she had thought Marinette’s room would be like. Lila sneered in distaste as she was assaulted with an overabundance of pink, dolls, “cutesy” furniture, and fashion designs. And that was all the obvious details at first glance.

She glanced around the room in annoyance, noting just how big and open it was in comparison to her own apartment bedroom. It was bright. Even without the pink it was cheery and warm, with two windows and a balcony overhead. A balcony with its own garden, too! And a perfect view of the city on top of everything else! How fair was it that a baker’s daughter got to make use of such space?

All the more space to hide things, even. Lila’s hands twitched with an urge to destroy the room and its contents.  It would be worth it for the look on Marinette’s face once she saw it. But she wasn’t here for that and there was every chance that Ladybug’s cure could fix it. No, what she needed was something more permanent.

Now where were the more…”incriminating” details?

Lila started a search of the room for anything she could use to solidify Marinette’s isolation from the rest of the class. Something that would make even Adrien want nothing to do with her.

Marinette’s computer was locked and it would take too much time to guess the password. There was no book in sight that could be a diary. There were plenty of designs and Marinette’s sketchbook, but any ideas she had to use those would require her to stick around to complete them.

Nah, she needed something more straightforward. Something like…

Hello. Against the wall closest to her bed was a plethora of Adrien posters that might as well have been her wallpaper.

A pull of a string revealed a scrolled up calendar with Adrien’s schedule.

And what’s this? Hidden in the closet was an entire stack of presents. All labeled for Adrien.

Oh, this was too good. She was practically giddy as she started taking pictures with her phone camera. Pictures of the wall. Pictures of the schedule. Pulling the presents out of the closet and scattering them across the room to take pictures of each of those. She couldn’t have asked for a better opening!

She’d known Marinette to have a huge crush on Adrien. It was obvious from how she acted around him, which was why Lila tried to buy her friendship with false promises to help her win his heart—not completely false though, as she may very well have let Marinette have him…once Lila herself was bored of him. Still, she clearly underestimated the girl’s crush. This was extreme and just ripe for humiliation. An entire wall of pictures of his face to watch her sleep. His daily schedule to always know where he is. Presents for years—as if they’ll even still know each other that long!

It might not have been as good as say a diary or some other dirty secret, but this was just enough for Lila to spin it against Marinette. Imagine how Adrien would feel about all this? Or if his FATHER knew? Ooooh, Marinette’s dreams, whether as a designer or as Adrien’s love would be completely dashed!

And speaking of which, it was perhaps fortunate that Lila just HAPPENED to be on such good terms with the father in question! Surely he would want to know about this.

Why hadn’t she called on him sooner? Gabriel needed her. She was useful to him. So surely he would be willing to help her. He had a private mansion with its own defense system that could protect her from any unruly mob. Honestly, she should have gone there first.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, she decided as she tapped his contact number. She could ensure her safety with Gabriel and ruin Marinette with one phone call.

“What is it?”

Lila frowned in surprise. Her call had been picked up immediately, but rather than Gabriel, she was stuck talking to his assistant.

“This is Lila Rossi. I need to speak to Mr. Agreste.”

“Mr. Agreste is busy at the moment.”

Lila barely held back a huff of irritation. “This is important.”

“Whatever it is you have to say is not important enough to disturb Mr. Agreste at this time. Or ever, for that matter.”

What was this? The woman wasn’t even listening!

“But it’s about his son!” Lila exclaimed. It wasn’t, actually. Lila needed a safe place to hide and that was priority, but if there was one thing Gabriel cared about that could ensure he would listen long enough, Adrien was it.

“There’s a horrible girl who has been obsessed with him!” Lila exclaimed with overly grandiose affect. “She has invaded his personal space, harassed him in public, and followed him into unsanctioned areas. I think she’s a stalker! Gabriel needs to know!”

“We are already aware of your antics, Miss Rossi. Although it is useful of you to admit them. This will be included in your file.”

Lila balked at that.

“MY file?”

“I assumed you could only have been speaking of yourself, given your history.”

“No! I was talking about Marinette! SHE’S the one who—”

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out what you had been doing? You lied and manipulated your way into the mansion. You’ve been frequently touching and hanging on Adrien in a way he is not comfortable with and is against company policy. And then there are the ‘rumors’ you’ve been spreading of being his girlfriend without speaking to Adrien or clearing it with Gabriel Agreste first. And then there were your outright attempts to use Adrien to get close to the head of the company brand and try to manipulate said head of the company in regards to his own son.”

“I didn’t!” Lila insisted. This was going all wrong!

“Our cameras and reports say differently. Which is why we will request that you cease any and all contact with the company and its employees henceforth.”

Lila froze.

“What?”

“In light of recent allegations, the Gabriel brand has decided it would be in the company’s best interests to cut ties with someone of such…unsavory background.”

“What do you mean—”

“Your contract with Gabriel is terminated. There will be no further communications with Mr. Agreste or Adrien. And a restraining order is in process of being issued.”

“But…” This couldn’t be happening!

“Goodbye, Miss Rossi.”

There was a final resounding click. Then silence. And Lila found herself choking on dread from within a hatefully cheerful and pink room where no bad things should happen.

This couldn’t be it.

This couldn’t be the end!

All her efforts…for nothing?

And…that meant she didn’t have the mansion as a safe house. If she was forced to run again, she had no backup plan. She had to rely on Ladybug to…

Wait…

Ladybug?

It wouldn’t leave her. Ladybug. What about Ladybug? It may have been the shock of everything, but even the thought of the spotted heroine didn’t hold animosity for her for once. Not compared to the desperate hope that the connection and slow realization brought her.

This was…

This was just the akuma!

That’s right! Lila spun back as she realized.

The akuma was controlling everyone. No doubt Gabriel and his people were caught up in it as well. The man had to have spies everywhere. And if the influence spread by word of mouth, it would have been easy for him to fall under its sway as well.

That meant that Ladybug would fix this. Everything would go back to normal and nobody would even remember this. She would still have her contract. She would still have her ties to Gabriel and his influence to serve in her favor. Hell, maybe it would be confusing enough for everyone that she could spin things to her classmates to convince them it was all a misunderstanding or the akuma’s work?

There was still a chance!

She wasn’t finished!

Lila Rossi has not fallen yet!

Except then she did. Literally. By tripping over one of the spare presents she had left out in the middle of the floor to photograph. Unable to regain her balance, she hit the floor with a thud. That thud turned into a clatter as her sprawled form making contact with the ground sent a number of the other packages and a few other objects falling over in a small avalanche of noise that seemed to resound throughout the room and no doubt to the floors below.

Maybe…maybe nobody heard that?

The stomping of feet from below heading in her specific direction told her that yes, her unfortunate tumble had indeed been heard. Stupid! She should have put the gifts back sooner! She only had a few moments to act. Lila barely managed to pull herself up into something close to a standing position before the door to the room flung open.

Sabine entered the room with baking peel in hand, looking wary and concerned. Her eyes scanned the room in seconds. Seeing the presents scattered across the floor. Seeing several objects moved from their proper places. Seeing Lila sitting in the middle of it all.

In an instant, any trace of a sympathetic authority figure in her corner was gone. Instead, she was replaced with a very protective and very ANGRY mother who just found a threat in her home.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“Oh, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng!” Lila exclaimed, looking relieved. “I’m so glad someone found me!”

“What are you doing up here?” The woman demanded, looking substantially less pleased to see her.

“It’s a bit embarrassing.” She explained, appearing bashful. “I took a wrong turn and got lost.”

The mother’s eyes narrowed.

“You got lost.”

“Yes!”

Maybe she would buy it?

“And took stairs clearly leading UP instead of DOWN.”

Yeah, she wasn’t buying it.

“Yes?” Lila tried anyway.

“And why is the room in disarray?” Sabine continued to question—oh who was she kidding, it was an interrogation at this point.

“I got scared.” Lila stated, only acting slightly more anxious than she actually felt. “I was worried the akuma would find me and I wanted to find a place to hide. Her closet seemed big enough.” She finished, gesturing to the now roomier closet space.

Sabine’s eyes followed her gesture. Her expression became slightly more uncertain. She was considering it at least. While the story seemed suspicious, Sabine had no proof and Lila’s explanation was at least plausible. She couldn’t argue it at any rate.

“Come downstairs.” Sabine ordered, unhappy but appearing to buy her story for now. “We’ll find a place to keep you hidden that isn’t our daughter’s room.” 

“Oh, thank you!” Lila cried gratefully. She moved towards the exit with no further hesitation.

She had already gotten what she needed, after all.

But as Lila passed by, the woman suddenly gripped her shoulder. Hard enough that she could very well bruise. Precise enough that pressure points were hit which caused more pain and a sense of numbness in her arm.

“If you take advantage of our kindness to harm my daughter, you’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for politicians and people who talk at the theater.”

Lila couldn’t help the wincing. She didn’t need to fake it, but she didn’t even try to hide it, either. “Ow! Yes! I got it! Ow!”

Sabine relaxed her grip but didn’t release it, walking Lila down the stairs and back to the main part of the shop. Tom looked up, a bit confused as they entered. But despite not being the one to catch Lila, even he was looking at her suspiciously.

This wasn’t good.

Lila was already working out what she could say to turn this in her favor. But—

“Honey, I just got a text from Nadja.” Tom stated, seeming worried.

“Oh?” Sabine asked, curious.

“She said that the ‘Witch’ was in our daughter’s room trying to find Marinette’s secrets to humiliate her and ruin her future. Do you know what she means?”

A long pause.

Lila gulped.

“Honey?” Tom asked, though from the silence, he was starting to draw his own conclusions as slowly his gaze started to settle on Lila. His eyes narrowed as his expression morphed into anger.

But even that was nothing compared to the other...

“Really?” Sabine drawled.

Lila felt everything in her freeze as the woman slowly—all too slowly turned to smile at her.

That was not a nice smile.

“How very…special.”

Lila’s eyes widened, catching the meaning.

NOPE!

And she immediately booked it out of Sabine’s grasp, out of the room, and out of the bakery altogether.

[soundwavefucker69]

Baby Tal'ika: cuddles with Fox

☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Let’s do this

---------------

The Jedi had, in fact, pulled away from Coruscant, and taken basically the entire GAR with them. Fox was pretty sure no one had expected that from them. He certainly hadn’t. The idea of the Jedi not being on Coruscant felt practically sacrilegious. But, here they were, on an uninhabited planet in the Inner Rim, building their own temple around a Force Nexus point, whatever that meant. Alderaan and Naboo had gone above and beyond to lend a hand to the Jedi, but everyone had been actually shocked at how self sufficient the Jedi actually were with their Service Corps. The AgriCorps alone were beasts, literally building the temple out of forcing literal trees and plants to grow in some strange way to form proper insulation and structure.

The temple finally had its living quarters, including the creche, built. For the past several months, Fox had been enjoying Tal’ika living in his hastily constructed home. Obi-Wan had been preoccupied with darting around the galaxy putting out fires, and while Fox, as a Commander, could have definitely been useful out there... He had a few months with Tal’ika in comparison to years spent with other people raising them.

Mace had assured him that he would still see them, and see them a lot. Jedi were partially rearranging their protocols regarding family separation, mainly because now that they were far removed from politics, there was a little more leeway in worries about outside influences. Jedi Initiates in the creche could have familial contact, instead of working up to contact once they were padawans. And, well, Fox was going to be working with the Jedi. A lot. Probably more than he should, but he was a workaholic, and it was probably a problem, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

In any case, tomorrow they would start moving the little ones into the creche, and Fox was going to have his hands full getting all of the cadets and babies from Kamino settled in the ‘barracks’, because they were going to start getting shipped in in the next week. The logistics was going to be a nightmare. And Tal’ika was going to be gone, off in the creche with the other Jedi babies, and he was no longer going to be waking up with a warm weight in his bed that should be in their own damned bed. He wasn’t going to be making breakfast for two, wasn’t going to be helping them with their education modules, wasn’t going to be coordinating childcare with the crechemasters and other clones that had volunteered to help keep the Initiates in line until they could keep them all contained. He wasn’t going to be hounding them to make sure they brushed their teeth, or struggling over the braids he had learned to make, or having running conversations in a mix-up of Basic and Mando’a with a kid who still couldn’t reach the floor with their socked feet when they sat at the kitchen table. He wasn’t going to be carting them off to work, wasn’t going to be wrangling them to eat their vegetables, wasn’t going to be blatantly ignoring their abuse of the Force because it was the Jedi’s job to get after them for having fun, not him.

Tal’ika probably wouldn’t be moved in until the end of the week, but it was still hurting. The loss. He had really gotten attached, but he also had to be incredibly honest with himself. The constant stream of the chip being activated in his brain had fucked him up on several levels. He was trying his best. He really was. But memories of what he had been forced to forget were slowly and steadily filtering back in, and he wasn’t handling it well. He was keeping it together as best as he could, for Tal’ika, because he only had a few months with them before they went to people that didn’t need to see a mind healer on a daily basis for the foreseeable future, but Fox was also well aware that he was in no position to raise a child. He still had nightmares of control being ripped away, watching his body murder his own child with no way to stop it. An unwilling spectator to hell. A failure of a father.

No, he needed to work this shit out away from Tal’ika, because his kid was a goddamn empath and could tell sometimes he was terrified of them, and that just wasn’t healthy for them. Or him. He wanted to be selfish and raise them on his own, away from the Jedi and a life of monastic servitude, but they wanted it. They craved being a Jedi like a Quarren craved the sea. He couldn’t just make the decision for them, and he had to admit that the structure of being a Jedi was probably for the best for a child that had been genetically engineered to be slightly unhinged.

He wasn’t enough for them, and it kind of stung. Not enough a sting to not be happy that he was giving them the best possible chance in life while still getting to be their buir, but it stung. Obi-Wan was going to be getting back from mop-up operations on Toydaria tomorrow, and they were going to be spending time together with Cody, and Fox’s time alone with Tal’ika was coming to an end. Tal’ika, the perceptive little thing that they were, knew he was getting worked up. He’d cooked their favorite meal, a flatbread kind of dish piled high with trash like cheese and cured meats and sauce, and bullied them to go take a damned shower, because they had taken a tumble off a hill today and were utterly drenched in dirt and leaves, and a change of clothes had done the bare minimum to spare his little house. He was going to have to clean. Now, while they were washing off in the fresher, he was alone with his spiraling thoughts and dishes, up to his elbows in the water as he scrubbed the excess that had built up over the day.

Soft feet padded down the hallway, and he scowled at the bit of lunch that was stuck on the pot, refusing to budge under his scrubbing. Tiny hands wrapped around his waist, and Fox froze as a little head thunked right in the middle of his back, wet hair pressing into his shirt as Tal’ika ground their face into his back.

“What’s up?” He asked, and their arms tightened around him.

“You’re upset,” they mumbled, and Fox swallowed.

“You’d be pretty upset if you were scrubbing this pot.”

“Then let it soak,” they grumbled, and he dried his hands, peeled his arms off from around his waist as he turned around. Undettered, they smacked their face right into his gut and clung to his stomach.

Ah. It wasn’t the empathy. They were upset, too.

With a sigh, he bent down to pick them up and carry them into the living room, flopping down on the couch and nabbing the blanket thrown over the arm. Without another word, they curled up in his lap, and he lifted and maneuvered them around so he could wrap them in the blanket.

“Did you brush your hair?” He asked, already knowing the answer, because the brush was sitting on the end table where he left it last night.

“No,” they mumbled, sounding utterly miserable, and he shifted them around so they were between his thighs. The brush was gathered up, and he started to work through their damp hair.

“You know you’ll still see a lot of me,” he reminded them, and they let out a huff of air.

“I know.” They didn’t sound convinced.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” he promised, though that wasn’t strictly true. They would be able to get rid of him, very easily, because as soon as everyone got everything functioning, he’d be fulfilling his duties as Minister of Education, which meant that he was going to be busy. Extremely busy. At least he wasn’t going to be Senator. They had offered him the position and he had looked Cody dead in the eyes and informed him if they let him into the Senate chamber without the threat of decommissioning looming over his head, there were at least fifty Senators that weren’t going to be making it out alive.

Rizz was going to be Senator. Fox thought they were the superior choice, personally. The Senate wasn’t going to know what hit them. One look of disappointment from Rizz would leave a shiny in tears, so it was probably going to be very effective in the Senate.

But.... Even so.

Tal’ika was glaring at the wall, which was basically just their way of showing that they were sad, and he sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to the back of their head.

“We agreed on this, remember?” He murmured, his hands stilling, and Tal’ika tugged the blanket a little tighter around their shoulders.

“I know,” they muttered, but they didn’t sound happy about it. Was this what it felt like to send off your kid to boarding school?

“C’mere,” he said, deeming their hair appropriately brushed, and shifted them around so they were sitting more firmly against him. Tal’ika curled into his warmth, huffy and upset, and he leaned over to flick on their favorite holofilm.

“I think we can ignore your bedtime tonight. Obi-Wan isn��t here to get mad, is he?” He murmured, and Tal’ika snorted before wriggling around so they could watch the irritating holofilm he had memorized at this point. 

“Obi-Wan doesn’t get mad. He gets disappointed,” they mumbled, and he snorted as he wrapped them up tight with as much love as he could put into his embrace.

“That he does,” he agreed smoothly. “That he does.”

Tal’ika’s attention flicked back to the holofilm, and Fox resigned himself to dramatic collapses on fainting couches and high end Core accents and ridiculous hairdos and pointless gestures to offset the jewelry dripping from their fingers from actresses having the time of their lives being as dramatic as they could. Why they loved these weird glam murder mysteries was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t a musical.

Tal’ika mouthed along to the lines they had memorized, and slowly and steadily, they started to relax in his grip. By the time they got to the torrid and helpless kiss in the rain that Fox knew for a fact was ruining the fur stole and silks the titular actress was wrapped in, they were a useless lump in his lap, and his mind was drifting back to the dishes abandoned in the sink. He still needed to finish them, but...

Something wet and slimy hit his neck, and his eyes locked on the wall as he realized they were definitely asleep and definitely drooling on him.

Well. Maybe a little longer. He knew as well as any clone that if he blinked, they’d be too big to do this again.

Just a little longer.

[sparrellow]

diamrem

Rin was not the Little Mermaid, not an Ariel, not some tragic, beautiful fish-girl. However, she was cursed, and she was doomed to be half-fish for the rest of her life (barring some miracle happening before she turned 18).

rating: T genre: romance/fantasy/fluff/humor/a smidge of angst ships: primarily rin/len, a whiff of gumi/miku words: 8,458

No one knew how, or when, or where, Rin’s family’s curse began.

Her mother went through it. And her mother’s father went through it. And her mother’s father’s mother went through it, too. But the curse always followed the same set of rules: don’t touch water in front of another human, and fall in love before the age of 18 unless you want to be a half-fish forever.

They were both the most challenging set of rules to follow, especially with unpredictable weather, compulsory school swimming carnivals and a face only a mother could love. Rin only had about 15 seconds flat to dry herself before turning to some human-experiment-with-tuna-gone-wrong in front of every other person around her.

Bath times were not fun, and required some tricky maneuvering with a wet towel and a bathtub and lightning-fast reflexes. 

Thank god her family doctor didn’t ask questions when giving her a note to excuse her from any water-related activities she had to participate in at school, having been familiar with her mother’s ‘afflictions’. (He probably knew more than what he was letting on, and god knows what her mother had said to persuade him). Something something ‘severely allergic to the chemicals in water’ did the trick, usually.

But of course. Then there was… the uh, sad Swan Princess-like situation with her falling in love with someone before the age of 18, or else becoming a mermaid forever. And it couldn’t be like, a fake or forced or one-sided situation. It had to be, like, real -real love. Like the other party had to feel actual romantic love for you, and you had to reciprocate it.

That was, um, big yikes. Rin had pretty much signed that off as impossible, considering her ‘puberty glow-up’ was yet to come and she was nearing her 18th birthday very soon. Besides, the boy she’d been pining for for the past, uh, eleven-or-so years was so much as oblivious to her affections.

Oh, woe.

Her mother had tried her best to comfort her and guide her to a more positive way of thinking, claiming, “You never know what’s right around the corner.” But her birthday was now ‘right around the corner’, so all hope was dwindling fast.

She wouldn’t even get to graduate high school. That was sad. Plus, the seaside near her town was definitely not nice, and the thought of having to swim in that polluted hot-mess made her feel even more miserable than before. 

This curse sucked. (But that was the point of a curse, she supposed).

When her friends at school asked her what she wanted for her birthday during November, she couldn’t help but answer with somewhat cynicism, “True love’s first kiss.”

Gumi blinked at her, before turning to look at Len, who seemed to be taking her answer very seriously. He tilted his head, then asked Gumi, “Is it a perfume or makeup brand or something…?”

Rin wanted to slap him for being so… so Len, but Gumi just gave him this look. “Do you have peas for a brain? The girl meant a literal first kiss.” She then thought for a moment. “Although, that’s a super out-of-character request from you, Rin.”

“It’s complicated,” was Rin’s simple, yet vague, answer, before she turned away to lean her head on her palm and look out the window like a pensive anime school boy.

Her friends were discussing something heatedly with each other under their breaths for a moment, but she wasn’t bothering to eavesdrop. Gumi knew as much that Rin had a very sad crush on Len, but she was a good enough person to never tell. Come to think of it, the girl knew a lot of people’s secrets.

Hmm.

Len stepped around into her field of vision with a very serious expression. “Do you mean a thimble?”

“Enough already!” Gumi barked, yanking him backwards by the collar. “You don’t need to answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she said.

Gumi’s eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead, a concerned look crossing her face. But before she could mention what was on her mind, the homeroom bell rang, and the pair had to skedaddle back to their desks, probably up in arms trying to figure out her cryptic request.

But it was alright. Rin already knew she wasn’t going to get it.

She was going to be a fish.

.

“You know, you’ve… seemed kind of down, lately,” Gumi said offhandedly one afternoon, as they were taking a drink break during track and field club. 

Len was off goofing around with some other boys in the club, currently in headlock and receiving a noogie from fellow classmate, Kaito.

Rin took a sip of her water, careful not to pour it down the front of herself and cause panic. “I’ve just got things on my mind,” she said. “18th birthdays are pretty big in my family.”

Gumi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Tradition or something.” Of course, Rin hadn’t told anyone the truth. Everyone thought she was just kind of odd and hated swimming. Even though she trusted Gumi, a big ball of everyone’s secrets, she just couldn’t imagine the absurdity of such a situation, and that daunted her a little. Besides, she was kind of embarrassed by the whole fish-body thing. It wasn’t as cute as it looked in movies.

She still didn’t know how her mum broke the news to her dad about the whole curse-thing, especially since it would also affect their children. She’d never even gotten around to really asking about how it all went down.

“I didn’t realise it was big for you,” Gumi said, tucking her knees up to her chest and casting a look over at Len being a gremlin with the other kids. “Is that why you came out with the whole true love’s first kiss thing?”

Rin nodded.

“Are your parents going to like, betroth you to some random guy or something if you don’t find a boyfriend beforehand?”

Rin snorted. “No. No. Thankfully, no,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

Gumi eyed her. “Alright. As long as you’re not being forced into some child-bride situation.”

“I’m not,” Rin said, giving her a solemn look. “I’m not. Seriously.”

Her friend then smirked a little, looking back over at the other club members. Len was now doing handstands and showing off to the underclassmen. Some girls were cooing over him or something. 

“So, what about Len?” Gumi asked, sounding very casual although it was definitely a strategic maneuver.

“What about what about Len?” Rin asked back.

“Why not confess to him? If you’re so worried about the whole true love kiss thing?”

Rin hated how Gumi suggested it so smoothly, like it was absolutely nothing, but she knew this girl had it planned. She frowned. “Confess to him? Are you mad? I’d rather stick my hand into a bouquet of cacti.”

“Why not?” Gumi pushed, glancing back at her. “Who’s to say it would turn out poorly?”

“What, did you ask him if he’d say yes?” Rin raised an eyebrow at her.

Gumi smiled coolly. “No. But you know, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Rin huffed. “It would hurt my feelings.”

Of course, the conversation ended there because Len came jogging over to flop down ungracefully onto the grass beside them. After taking some huge gulps of water from his bottle, he looked over at them with a grin. 

“What’s up, ladies?”

“The sky,” Rin and Gumi answered in unison.

“Did I interrupt an important discussion, or something?” he asked, sensing the remnants of Rin’s discomfort. 

Gumi didn’t wait for Rin to answer. “Just girl things,” she said.

Len screwed up his face, pretending to be disgusted. “Eww.”

“Periods, periods, periods,” Rin then chanted. “Boobs, boobs, boobs.”

“Hey, I’ll always join a conversation about boobs,” he said, earning him a whack over the head from Gumi. He winced, but kept his grin the whole time.

“Well, unfortunately you and I don’t have much to bring to the table, so Gumi’s the boob expert here,” Rin jested.

Len took another swig of water, swallowed hard, then said without the bat of an eyelid, “Small boobs are just as valid as big ones, Rin.”

Gumi applauded slowly. “Wow, an award-winning statement from Mr. Len here. Making those girls swoon.”

He winked at her. “You know I’m a chick magnet.”

“Unfortunately,” the two girls chorused, both unimpressed by his confidence.

“Okay, okay. Today’s Pick On Len Day. Fine. I get it,” Len said, rolling his eyes. He tossed his bottle to the ground and stood, stretching his legs. “Watch me go beat my track record,” he added over his shoulder before running off to join the group.

Gumi looked at Rin with a sly expression, before jumping up to jog after him.

Rin rolled her neck and sighed, following suit.

.

It came very suddenly.

One day at lunch, Len said, with a mouthful of fried rice, “You know, Miku’s kind of cute.”

Rin choked on her broccoli and Gumi paused, chopsticks stuck in her mouth as she looked at him with wide eyes.

Len blinked innocently. Rin reached for her water through a coughing fit and Gumi set down her chopsticks to pat her on the back. 

“What makes you say that, Len?” Gumi said, sounding very confused.

He shoved another spoonful of rice into his gob and leaned his head on his hands, looking over at said classmate—a very pretty girl with long, teal pigtails. “Well, you know, just look at her.”

Rin was stewing. This was like a double-whammy punch to the gut. Her appetite for lunch had completely vanished.

They followed his gaze and watched the girl, who was chatting with her friends across the classroom. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then, as if sensing their eyes on her, glanced over in their direction.

Len gave a friendly wave, and Miku smiled back sheepishly.

Oh no.

“I… guess,” Gumi grumbled, turning away. Her ears were pink.

“Don’t you think so too, Rin?” Len asked, now looking at her.

Rin was packing away her half-eaten lunch. Hesitating, she chewed on her lip. She could be petty and disagree, but what would that do? Besides, it was true. Miku was super cute. “Er… yeah,” she answered.

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?” Len continued, unknowingly driving the knife deeper into the wound.

Gumi cleared her throat. “No. She’s not.”

Len seemed pleased by this answer. “Hmm.”

It was then Gumi looked over at Rin, with a somewhat apologetic look. What was happening here?

Rin took the initiative, biting down on her wound. “So, you want to ask her out?” she asked in a weak voice.

Len burst into laughter. Nervous laughter? Rin couldn’t tell. But his outburst seemed to have surprised Gumi, too. “What? Me? Ask her out? No,” he said. “I’m probably not even her type.” This time he looked straight at Gumi.

Rin opened her mouth. “Okay. So… why…”

“Len,” Gumi interrupted, in a tone that meant business. “Can you walk me to the vending machine downstairs? Those creepy guys are bothering me again.”

Len raised his eyebrows. “Again? I thought they’d been dealt with.”

“Well,” she said. “It’s happening again and I’m thirsty. Please.”

He shrugged, muttering something under his breath Rin didn’t quite catch, and the pair of them then disappeared, leaving her to sit alone and wallow in her feelings.

Well. That was a bad time.

Rin wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, slid her lunchbox into her bag and wandered off to go cry in the bathroom.

.

A few days later, Len dropped by her desk between classes and did this strange spin-maneuver before asking her if she wanted to go to the beach on the weekend.

Rin glanced outside, then back at him. “The beach? This weekend?” she echoed. “Len, it’s December. It’s going to be so cold.”

He planted his hands on her desk and rocked back and forth. “So? It’s still nice out.”

“What do you even want to do there?” she asked. “It’s not like we can swim or anything.”

“I dunno. I just thought it’d be a nice break from all the stress of exams. We can hang out. Build sandcastles. Collect seashells. Eat ice-cream. Maybe even visit the aquarium.”

“Eat ice-cream?” Rin felt cold just thinking about it. “I hope you’re ready to share your jacket with me, then.”

Len grinned. “So it’s a yes?”

She sighed. “I suppose. What about Gumi?”

“Oh, right. She said she’s visiting her grandparents this weekend.”

“Sucks,” Rin said. 

“What, am I not good enough?” Len joked, faking a pout. 

“I need someone to help me pick on you,” she said with a grin.

He pretended to be hurt, gasping and clutching at his chest. “Rin, you’re such a bully. Always picking on me…” Then he switched back to normal mode, as if remembering he still had to go to his next class. “So, Saturday afternoon?”

Rin nodded.

He gave a thumbs up. “Sweet. Let’s head there after club finishes.”

Then Len hurried off to his next class. 

Gumi stopped Rin in the hall a few hours later, with her class materials tucked under one arm. She wiggled her eyebrows at her, smirking. “Saturday afternoon, hm?”

“How did you know?” Rin asked, although not surprised she knew as much.

“Oh. He asked me first,” was her simple answer. “Maybe you should… you know.”

“‘You know’ what?”

Gumi made some incomprehensible motion with her free hand. “You know, like… make a move.”

Rin rolled her eyes. “After what happened on Tuesday at lunch?”

“What happened on Tuesday at lunch?” Gumi asked, confused, before she remembered the more-than-awkward conversation. “Oh. Oh. Rin… no. That conversation was… hm. Something different.”

“Something different?” Rin repeated. “Like what? Sounds like the guy has a crush.”

Gumi then massaged her forehead, apparently hard-pressed over this topic. “It’s… no. Not that. I’ll talk to you about it later. After school.”

Rin raised a questioning eyebrow. “Alright.”

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways to their next classes. Of course, Gumi never did follow up on their conversation after school.

.

Saturday afternoon came in the blink of an eye, and soon Rin was tagging along after Len as they took the bus to the oceanside. 

Len was blabbering about some anime he was watching on TV last night, with dudes and swords and swords and dudes. She wasn’t entirely listening, just staring at the side of his face and thinking back to Tuesday’s mishap.

That was when she asked, out of the blue, “Len, do you like Miku?”

Len was caught completely off-guard, stopped his monologue about his sword-dude anime and spluttered, “Um, what? What are you talking about, Rin?”

Rin shifted in her seat, cramming her cold hands between her thighs for warmth. The question had been on her mind all week. It was almost killing her. “You know. You were talking about her a lot at lunch the other day. I thought you might like her.”

He turned red, and began to shake his head, laughing somewhat nervously. “Me? Like Miku? She’s, y’know, pretty and all… but uh…”

She leaned forward in her seat, raising an eyebrow. “You like her.”

“No! I don’t know where you’re getting that, Rin.” He seemed to be getting a little desperate, tugging at his ponytail. He looked at her with a somewhat serious expression. “It wasn’t—I don’t— I don’t like her. I mean, she’s pretty and that’s great, but… I like someone else.”

Two emotions hit Rin at once like trains colliding on a track. One was relief that he didn’t like Miku; the other, a swell of dread in her chest as it dawned on her that he did like someone (and it definitely wasn’t her). 

Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Who?”

Len blinked at her, surprised by her lack of shame in asking such a personal question. “Well, that’s a secret. It’s not like you’ve told me who you like, anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s no point in me talking about it to anyone because it’s never going to be reciprocated, anyway,” she muttered. There was a moment of silence between them, before she asked, “Does Gumi know?”

“Um…”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Gumi knows everyone’s secrets. I won’t be offended if you’ve told her already.”

He tugged at his scarf, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Yeah… she knows.”

Rin thought for a moment. Well, if Gumi knew… why would she be encouraging her to ask Len out, knowing she’d be rejected?

Sometimes the logic of that girl made little sense.

“Does she know who you like?” Len asked back.

“Of course she does.”

They fell into silence after that, pondering the many secrets Gumi knew of one other, but never shared. 

Eventually, Len started the conversation up again as they got off at their stop. “So,” he began casually, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. “Have you actually got anything you want for your birthday? I’m considering the last answer you gave was a joke.”

It wasn’t, but anyway. “Nope,” Rin said simply.

“Nothing? Not even like, a video game or some jewellery or something?”

A video game couldn’t be played in the sea, and jewellery would only rust, so. “No, nothing at all,” she said.

Len frowned. “Usually you have something you want.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing at the store windows as they walked down the street. The smell of salt was getting stronger, and the wind was picking up. “Not this time.”

“God, you make it hard,” Len said, half-joking, but half-serious. “How about a party? Are you going to have one?”

“Nah,” Rin answered. “I figured this year should be quiet. And no— no surprise party. I’ve already laid that flat with Gumi, too.”

He pouted at her. “You’re no fun.”

Rin looked at him. “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that definitely was not apologetic.

“How about universities,” Len changed the subject. “Have you decided which ones you want to apply for, yet? The deadline is coming soon. Next month.”

To be honest, Rin hadn’t even cast one thought in that direction. Anything beyond her 18th birthday was lost to her. She was completely and utterly mentally prepared to just turn into a fish. University was out of the question.

“I haven’t,” she answered with a sigh. “What about you, though? You wanted to move to a bigger city, right?”

Len nodded. “Yeah, well, can’t stand being here. I was thinking somewhere in Sendai or Sapporo, or maybe even Tokyo, but it sucks knowing you might not be coming with. Gumi’s got her heart set on Sendai, though.”

Rin screwed up her face. “Tokyo’s too big. Sapporo’s nice, though.”

“Yeah? Thinking of a university there?”

“No.”

“Aw.” He bumped shoulders with her as they walked along, the sparkling blue of the sea coming into view. “There it is,” he said, as if witnessing something truly magnificent.

Rin eyed her mortal enemy, the water, as they made their way down to the sand. There were hardly any people around; just two idiots standing on the beach in the middle of winter.

A cool breeze blew through them, and she shivered. God, she was not looking forward to the freezing cold temperatures of the deep blue.

“Frozen yet?” Len asked with a laugh, noticing her folded arms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heat pack, placing it into her icy hands. It felt so good to touch. “Good thing I brought a few, eh?”

Rin was a fool not to bring them, but that was her. She never prepared for the weather properly at all. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning.

They began their venture down the coast, picking up shells in the sand and tossing rocks into the water. Soon, they reached an empty jetty. They sat on the very end, their legs dangling over the water; a good five-or-so metre drop into the ocean. 

She gazed down at the foam as the waves crashed against the muscle-covered posts of the jetty, droplets of seawater almost hitting the soles of her shoes. A part of her just wanted to throw herself in, but with Len there, that wouldn’t be a great situation.

Their shoulders and thighs touched. Len was jiggling his leg against hers, not really bothered by their proximity. Their feet knocked together as they swung them back and forth.

They didn't really talked much, just watched the horizon as the clouds rolled by. Rin had to fight the urge to lean her head on his shoulder. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Rin, she practically yelled at herself, as a wave of sleepiness hit her.

“Hey, Rin,” Len said, his tone a little odd. 

“Mm?” Rin answered, her eyelids betraying her.

“Um, you know, I…”

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by Rin’s yelp of surprise as something launched itself with her back. She almost fell forward, but somehow Len caught her before she toppled completely into the water.

When they turned to look, it was some small, fluffy white thing with a pink tongue and big, dark eyes. Not a moment later, someone came running over, panting.

“I’m so sorry,” the person said, and the voice sounded oddly familiar. “I didn’t realise there would be— oh.”

Both Rin and Len looked up at their face. To Rin’s utter horror, standing behind them… was no one other than Miku.

Miku had recognised them too, and now had a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry,” she apologised again.

Len seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh! Miku. Fancy seeing you here.”

She laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, yeah. I usually walk my dog along here. But I wasn’t really expecting to see anyone at this time of year.”

Miku’s dog was licking and slobbering all over Rin’s hand. It was cute, but… the situation was not.

Len then stood. Rin followed suit, not wanting to be the only one sitting. 

Miku gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry about my dog jumping on you. She gets a little excited about strangers. Not a very good guard dog.”

She returned a polite smile. “It’s fine. What’s her name?”

“Tinkerbell.”

Len snickered. “Cute.”

“Anyway,” Miku said, motioning for Tinkerbell to come over and attaching a leash to her collar. “I’m sorry again for disturbing you two.”

“It’s fine,” Len said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We were just hanging out." Then he paused, a look crossing his face like he just came up with the most brilliant idea. "Actually, Miku… would you like to grab ice-cream with us?”

Rin was ready to launch herself off the side of the jetty and just let the waves carry her off. This wasn’t how she was expecting her afternoon with Len to turn out. God, what the hell, Len? she wanted to cry. 

Was the boy being overly nice or was he like, strategically asking her for ice-cream for… some other reason?

Miku seemed to perk up at Len’s suggestion. “Oh, really? Are you sure? I’d love to!”

“Of course. You’re cool with it, aren’t you, Rin?” Len checked her face with a grin.

Rin didn’t have a choice. She forced a smile and a thumbs up, and announced in her most fake-enthusiastic voice, “Yay, ice-cream!”

So they started their venture back toward the main street in search of some ice-cream. As they walked along the beach, Len and Miku went ahead, deep in conversation about some favourite TV show they had in common.

Rin faded into the background, until reaching a complete stop on the sand. They’d already walked ahead so far, they wouldn’t even notice if she’d left. So she did. She turned and walked the other way, and took the bus home.

She knew it was the wrong thing to do, and when Len called her about half-an-hour later in a panic, thinking she’d been kidnapped or something, she felt even worse than she did before.

“You should’ve said something,” he said. “I was running up and down the beach for about ten minutes calling your name.”

“I’m sorry. It was urgent and I just… didn’t want to interrupt the conversation…” Rin had come up with some pathetic excuse about feeling sick all of a sudden and running off, although that was no better than the truth, probably.

Len sighed, apparently frustrated. “ Rin,” was all he said.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Well, are you home now?” he asked, ignoring the apology.

Her phone had rung just as she was getting off the bus, and now she was walking home. “Almost,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment or two, before he said, “Okay. Well, I hope you feel better soon.” Then he hung up.

Wow. He was definitely pissed.

Rin sniffled and wiped at her eyes, which were starting to leak tears. This sucked. Maybe if she wasn’t a ticking time bomb with this whole ridiculous mermaid curse thing, she’d be okay, the whole situation probably would have never happened, and she wouldn’t be so… pressed and upset about… everything.

She knew Gumi would hear about it, so there was definitely another lecture coming her way. Thinking that just made her cry even more about it though.

When she got home with swollen eyes and a blotchy face, her mum tried to ask about it, but she just told her it was nothing, and crawled into bed and watched sad romance movies all evening.

.

Gumi did eventually call to lecture her, but it wasn’t as bad as she was expecting. When Monday finally rolled around, Rin anticipated the worst, expecting Len to give her the cold shoulder, but miraculously, the boy just acted as normal.

When Rin was alone with Gumi for a few moments, she asked, “What did you tell him?”

Gumi looked at her innocently. “Hmm?”

“Len doesn’t hate me, despite everything. So what did you say to him?”

She glanced around to check for the boy's presence, before explaining, “I just told him what you told me the other day. About your birthday situation. He seemed to calm down after that. You better be thankful I did damage control for you.”

“I am,” Rin said. “Thank you.”

“You know, he's still in a tizz over your birthday present,” Gumi added. “He wants to buy you something and was trying to get an idea out of you on Saturday. Can’t you just like, give him something? ”

Rin grimaced. “The thing is, I really don’t have anything I want.”

“Jeez, Rin.”

“I know, I know…” she said, hanging her head. “Look, if he’s so adamant about getting me something, can you just make a suggestion to him or whatever? Like, I don’t know, pretend I told you what I want. I don’t really care.”

Gumi gave her a look. “You’re really giving me this power?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I could literally tell him you want new underwear or something.”

Rin shrugged. “That’s fine.”

Gumi smacked her forehead. “You know, he’d totally try buying you some.”

“Really?” Rin tried to imagine the boy waltzing into a lingerie store, but couldn’t picture it. “I’d think he would turn to ash as soon as he looked at lingerie.”

“You’d be surprised,” was all Gumi said.

Just as the conversation came to a lull, Miku appeared with a worried look on her face.

“Rin!” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? When you disappeared on Saturday, Len and I were so worried!”

Rin was taken aback by her intense concern, gawking at her face for a moment or two. “Ah… yeah… I’m sorry. I felt sick so I just went home. I’m sorry for not saying anything.”

“Len mentioned something about that,” Miku said. “The poor guy was close to tears before he tried calling you. Well, I’m glad you’re safe and feeling better, at least?”

“Oh. Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

Miku smiled and gave her shoulder two rough pats, before retracting her hand and turning to face Gumi. “Hey Gumi,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Gumi went stiff. “Uh. Hi Miku,” she responded, in a strange monotone voice.

“How was your weekend?” Miku asked.

“It was… um. Fine. And you?”

“Well, I’m sure you just heard about it when I was talking to Rin, but it was good. It was too bad you couldn’t be there too.”

Gumi swallowed. Her ears were turning bright red.

What on earth was Rin witnessing here?

“Yeah,” Gumi said. “It was too bad.”

Miku then cleared her throat, and looked at both of them. “Well, I’ll see you two around!” She gave a wave, then bustled off to do… whatever she was doing.

Rin looked at Gumi, who was still staring off in the direction Miku went, although she was no longer visible. “So, care to explain what just happened?” she asked.

Gumi jumped, turning back to Rin. “Wh— huh?”

She gestured in Miku’s direction. “You know… like. I’m getting some weird vibes from you right now and I’m not really sure what to think of it.”

Gumi shook her head furiously. “It’s nothing. It was nothing.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “ Okay.”

It was definitely not just nothing, though.

.

The thought finally came to her in the middle of lunch like a freight train colliding with a wall. Rin gasped, dropped her omelette, and jumped up from her seat.

Both Len and Gumi stopped eating to look at her. “What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Len and said, “Len. Can I speak to you in private?”

Len glanced at Gumi with a look of uncertainty, before setting down his chopsticks and standing, following her out of the classroom.

“Um… what’s up, Rin?” he asked, once she’d pulled him around a corner that was void of people to eavesdrop. He looked very nervous for some reason.

Nevertheless, Rin ignored that and blurted, “Does Gumi have a crush on Miku?”

“Oh.” Now he seemed very surprised. “Um.”

Rin didn’t need a verbal answer. The look on his face told her enough: Yes.

“Oh boy,” Rin said. “All this time I was thinking you had a crush on Miku. This is new. Wait. How come you know about this?”

Len blinked. “Er. Well…”

“Did Gumi tell you?”

He nodded.

Rin frowned. “But she didn’t tell me.”

“Uh,” he said. “Well, Rin…”

“She knows almost every secret of mine but she wouldn’t tell me she has a crush… on Miku . Everyone has just been keeping me in the dark!”

Len winced. “Rin.”

“Yes?”

“I basically traded secrets with Gumi.”

“You what?”

Len rubbed his neck. “So, like. She really wanted to know who I liked, but I refused and said to her only if she told me who she likes. So she told me. And she threatened me to not say anything to you. Anyway, you know, I talked to some people… found out Miku has a thing for Gumi, too. I’ve just been trying to kind of… get them together, but… ah. I’m sorry. You must’ve been really confused.”

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. “Wait, so… so that’s why you were talking about Miku at lunch the other day?”

He nodded.

“And that’s why Gumi made you come with her to get a drink.”

Len looked sheepish. “She was mad.”

“Wow.”

“So… is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“What?” Rin asked. “I mean, yeah. That was all.”

Len looked disappointed. “Oh.”

Then she suddenly remembered about what happened on the weekend. “Oh. And—Len.”

The disappointment on his face melted away for a moment. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I really am sorry about the weekend,” Rin said. “I didn’t think about anyone else but myself in that situation. I didn’t want to make you worried, though. I’m really sorry.”

Len’s gaze softened. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Gumi told me about your circumstances, so…” he trailed off, thinking. “Besides, I guess you were a little confused by me inviting Miku to eat ice-cream with us so suddenly. You probably didn’t know it was for Gumi’s sake.”

She laughed. “Thank you for worrying about me, Len.”

He smiled at her. “I couldn’t not worry about you, Rin.”

There was a brief pause between them, as they stood awkwardly, staring at each other’s faces. The silence was filled with tension—or maybe she was just imagining it.

Len then spoke again, averting his gaze away from her face. “You know, Rin, I… um…”

Whatever he wanted to say next did not come, because a certain green-haired girl stomped up beside them with her arms crossed.

“There you are!” Gumi exclaimed, standing in the space between them. “What are you two doing? I’ve been waiting 15 minutes for you to come back. What’s going on?”

Then she noticed the look on Len’s face and faltered. “Wait. Did I… did I interrupt something?”

Len cleared his throat. “No. It’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Gumi glanced at Rin, who shrugged her shoulders. “Are you sure? Because I—”

He held up a finger. “Nope. It’s cool. But Rin knows you like Miku.”

She went blank for a moment, before her eyes narrowed. “You told her?”

“No. I guessed it,” Rin answered quickly, to save Len from being gutted like a fish. “I dragged him out here to ask about it… and then I apologised about the weekend. That’s all.”

Len nodded. “That’s all.”

Gumi was red. “Both of you are so— difficult.” She threw up her hands in frustration, then turned around and walked off.

“Is she okay?” Rin asked.

“Probably,” Len responded. “Thanks for speaking up for me, though.”

“No worries,” she said. “By the way, what did you want to say before? It seemed pretty serious.”

Len hesitated, his lips pressing into a straight line in thought. Finally, he said, “You know what? I can’t remember. It probably wasn’t important.”

“Oh.”

They then followed after Gumi. But Rin couldn’t help but keep thinking back to what Len was about to say to her.

.

“So, what are you doing on your birthday, Rin?” Gumi asked. It was T-minus five days until Sunday, her birthday, the dreaded day.

Rin picked at her lunch, not feeling very hungry. “Not much. Probably just going to stay home… do nothing…”

“Well, that’s sad,” Len said. “Why don’t we hang out or something?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My parents don’t want me to,” Rin lied. Of course, her parents could care less about her meeting with friends on her birthday, but she also had the strange curfew of sunset (her deadline for finding a lover before becoming a fish forever).

“Oh,” Gumi and Len said in unison, sounding disappointed.

“How about next weekend?” she suggested, although there wouldn’t be a next weekend. But if it made her friends happy, she’d plan it, even if it wouldn’t end up happening.

“Next weekend is good with me. Gumi?” Len looked to Gumi.

She nodded. “I should be free.”

“Sweet. Let’s go bowling or something,” Len suggested. “I mean, it’s your birthday, Rin, so we can do whatever you want.”

“Bowling sounds nice,” Rin mused aloud. “Karaoke would be fun too.”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go to karaoke as well,” Len agreed. He then glanced over at Gumi with a sly look. “Shall we invite Miku?”

Gumi grimaced, her ears reddening. “I don’t need you two hooligans being my wingmen.”

“Why not? You’re practically always trying to be my wingman,” Rin said.

Gumi jabbed a finger in her direction. “You watch it, Miss Rin. I have the power here.”

Rin backed down, holding her hands up. “Okay, okay. Jeez. Maybe you should just try asking her out.”

“And don’t use my advice on me,” she added sulkily, folding her arms over her chest.

“Wow, she tells you that too?” Len asked, guffawing. 

Rin rolled her eyes. “Like every day.”

He held up his hand. “Same. High-five!”

She gave him a high-five across the table, to which Gumi just rolled her eyes. “You two are just… so… unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably awesome,” Rin corrected. She and Len gave each other another high-five.

Gumi put her head down on her desk and groaned.

The pair chuckled. 

“So… what are your folks going to do with you on the weekend?” Len asked, steering the conversation back to her birthday.

Rin sighed. “Dunno. Dunno anything, really.”

“That stinks,” he said.

“Yep.”

Gumi lifted her head. “I’m still worried you’re like, being married off or something and you’re just not telling us.”

Yeah. Being married off to the sea, Rin thought.

Len found this speculation incredibly upsetting. “Being married off? Are your parents really that cruel to do that?”

“No,” Rin said. “I told you, I’m not getting married off. It’s not related to my relationship status in any way.” It totally was. “Stop spreading rumours about me, Gumi.”

Gumi ignored Rin, patting Len on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, if you get there first thing in the morning, Len, you might be able to wrestle down all her potential fiances and come first place as her suitor.” 

Len swatted her hand away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Shut up.”

It was then that Gumi shared a secret wink with Rin. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Well, regardless of your plans on Sunday, still expect us to call you and sing happy birthday in horrible discordant voices, at least,” Gumi said. “It’s tradition, you know.”

That part was at least true. The trio had been doing such a thing since middle school.

Rin smiled. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.” She was really looking forward to hearing from her friends for the last time. They wouldn’t know that, of course.

“Anyway, I’m still for inviting Miku to your birthday celebrations, if you don’t mind,” Len said with a shit-eating grin.

Gumi waved her chopsticks at him threateningly. “Len, I swear to God, I will harvest your organs and sell them on the black market.”

.

Then the day came. The morning started off rather ordinary, with Gumi and Len calling her at nine to sing happy birthday. Of course, she burst into tears on the phone, panicking the pair.

“What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin sobbed hideously and wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry. I just felt really happy. That’s all.”

“Really?” Len asked with skepticism in his voice.

“Yeah. Dunno. Just feeling a bit emotional today. Thank you for calling me, guys.”

The two were quiet for a moment. “It’s what we do, Rin,” Gumi then said, her voice gentle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. My parents are calling me, so I should probably hang up now.” That was a lie, but she couldn’t stand the conversation any longer.

“Okay,” Gumi and Len chorused, although they, too, sounded a little downhearted.

“Have a nice birthday, Rin,” Len said.

“Thank you. Bye.”

She didn’t wait for their replies. She hung up and began to cry again.

Her mother came into her bedroom a few minutes later, a look on her face that meant motherly-business. “Rin,” she said gently. “Are you sure you’re fine with this? You can still meet with your friends. You don’t need to avoid them.”

“It’s fine,” Rin sobbed. “It’s better off this way.”

Her mum sunk down onto the bed beside her, taking the phone from her clammy hands. “I know… I know it’s really hard for you. And I don’t know what to say or do. But… whatever happens, you’re still our daughter. And we love you, fish or not.”

She whimpered into her wet sleeve. “I wish I didn’t have to be a fish.”

“I’m sorry for giving you this curse,” her mother said. She reached out to rub her back. “I’m so sorry.”

Then her mother was crying too.

The day chugged at an impossibly slow pace, as if wanting to draw out the pain and suffering even longer.

Rin sat in her room most of the day, staring at her feet and legs and thinking, This is so fucking stupid. What the hell. She only emerged once or twice to use the bathroom, and to pick at a piece of her birthday cake.

Her parents had given her presents; one was an expensive waterproof phone case, and the other was an underwater camera. They made her cry again; although, they were somewhat thoughtful gifts considering the unfortunate situation.

When it hit four in the afternoon, she picked herself up from her bedroom floor, gathered what she wanted to take with her to the ocean, and set off to the beach. Her parents cried, and she did too, and she walked with her head down in the late afternoon sun.

Once the sun fully set, Rin would become a mermaid, and would never see her human legs again.

She sat on the edge of the jetty she once sat on with Len, and waited with her knees tucked up to her chest, listening to the ocean waves and the cries of the seagulls overhead. It was growing colder and colder as it grew darker and darker.

It was only about five minutes or so of sitting and waiting when Rin heard the sound of running footsteps behind her. She assumed it was some person out jogging, but they grew closer and closer, until she could hear someone panting very heavily.

She glanced behind her, and was surprised to see Len, doubled-over a few metres from her.

“Rin,” he gasped, stumbling over. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Huh,” she said, quickly wiping her wet face.

Len saw her red, swollen eyes as he grew closer and stopped in his tracks. “I went to your house to surprise you, but your parents said you were here. I ran all the way from your house because the bus wasn’t coming for another hour, and your parents said it would be too late to wait any longer. I don’t really understand, but…” 

Rin couldn’t help but begin to cry, yet again. “Oh, Len…”

“You’re not going to like, kill yourself, are you?” he asked, with the most serious expression she’d ever seen on him. “The look on your parents’ faces… it was like you had died.”

She laughed, although it was nothing to laugh about, but the whole situation was just so absurd she had no other way to react to it. “No, Len,” she said. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

“Then why…” he asked, edging closer.

“You want to go for a swim?” she asked him, although she was joking (just a little).

Len looked at her like she was crazy. And she was. “Are you kidding me? We’d both get hypothermia.”

Rin thought about that. “Hmm. You’re right.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Only if you tell me who you like,” she jested.

Len was speechless, but it seemed he was taking her seriously.

There were only about fifteen or so minutes left of daylight, so Rin stood and turned to him, now serious. “I have a secret. Not even Gumi knows it. Can you keep it?”

He went wide-eyed and nodded, swallowing.

She reached out for his hand and started pulling him back toward the beach. “We have to go somewhere no one will see me.”

“Er… why?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

They jogged up the beach toward the rocks, and Rin began climbing over them to a more secluded part of the beach. Len seemed rather confused by it all. Finally, she reached a shallow pool of water that would demonstrate enough.

“You have to promise you won’t scream or do anything weird,” she told him.

Len just blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. He nodded wordlessly, but she could tell there were questions just dying to come out.

Rin held a finger to her lips, then slipped off her coat, throwing it over some dry rocks. She’d already prepared for her assimilation into the sea, and had a bathing suit on underneath her coat. She began to descend down into the pool, the water lapping at her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs… 

He seemed to panic at just this alone. “Rin, what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

The water was ice cold, so cold it was painful. She winced and closed her eyes, ignoring Len’s cries. Soon, that familiar, warm sensation spread through her lower body, over her arms and ears and back.

Len went dead silent, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

His eyes were the size of saucers and his mouth was hanging open. “You… huh.”

“This is why I could never participate in the swimming carnival,” Rin said.

Len sank down to his knees, clutching at his hair in shock. She waited for him to get the words out, this time. “You… you’re a mermaid?”

She stretched out her webbed fingers, and said very lifelessly, “Surprise!”

“I’m… excuse me. You’ve been a mermaid this whole time?”

Rin shrugged. “Ever since I was born. It’s a family curse. Whenever I touch water, I grow a tail, and it sucks.”

“A… curse?” Len echoed. “How is it a curse?”

“Well, that’s the whole reason why my 18th birthday is the worst thing ever,” she said. “Why I’ve been so sad. Why my parents were probably crying when you knocked on their door. I’m going to become a mermaid forever, Len, as soon as the sun sets on my 18th birthday. Today.”

He seemed very distraught over this fact. More than she was expecting, really. “What? Why? Isn’t there something to break the curse, like—like in fairy tales or something?”

Rin sighed. There were only like, two minutes left of sunlight, as far as she knew. “Yeah, but it’s too late now to break it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, like in fairy tales, to break the curse I need a true—”

“A true love’s first kiss,” Len finished, with a look of realisation. “You were being serious. God! I’m such an idiot!”

Rin opened her mouth to ask, ��Why?” but much to her surprise, he tore off half his clothes in about five seconds flat and jumped into the freezing cold water, splashing her in the face, before launching himself towards her.

It was definitely a horrifying moment, until Len slapped his hands on either side of her head and leaned in for the kiss.

Of course, there were a million thoughts swirling through Rin’s mind as he kissed her, one of them being, Dang, this was definitely not as romantic as I’d imagined. But then again, Len was kissing her, like actually kissing her on the lips, and that was something she’d been pining for for the last 11 years, although it could’ve come just a little sooner.

Just as she was getting over the initial shock of it all, he pulled away. “Did it work?” he asked, trying to look down for her tail.

Her scales glittered through the surface of the water, and his face fell in disappointment, his hands dropping to her shoulders.

“Was I too late?” he then mused aloud, but what Rin wanted to know was how did he know she liked him back? 

Wait.

Gumi…

Rin felt a strange tingle down below, the same sort of tingle she felt when she was turning back to a human. 

Immediately she panicked, because she was about to become half-naked in front of Len.

“Er, Len, um, Len,” she said.

He looked at her, confused.

“I need you to like, not look at the lower half of my body for the next five minutes or so, because you’re going to see something you maybe want to see, but I don’t want you to see until we at least get to like, third base or something.”

“What,” he said.

But Rin needed not to give him a more specific explanation, because at that moment, the fabric of her torn-up bikini bottoms floated past.

“Oh.” Len immediately distanced himself, crawling back onto the rocks and shivering. He covered his eyes. “Just tell me when.”

On cue, her tail disappeared for the last time, her scales shedding and filling the pool, looking like glitter in the twilight. She ran her now-normal hands over the surface of the skin on her thighs, an immense sensation of relief filling her chest like fireworks.

Rin clambered up onto the rocks, and the cold winter wind hit her bare skin. She slipped and shivered as she reached for her coat, pulling it on hurriedly in a desperate attempt to get herself warm. It did very little to help, though.

“Okay, okay. I’m decent,” she said to Len, who seemed more relieved he could now reach for his dry clothes. His teeth were chattering, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt for having dragged him into this mess.

She decided to call her parents to rescue them from the cold. Her mum was more than relieved to hear her asking for pickup, no questions asked. She probably already had a feeling things would take a turn for the best after Len came by.

They climbed over the rocks, back toward the main beach, in shivering silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Rin said to Len, as they stopped for a moment on the sand. “Now you’re freezing because of me.”

“I’ll gladly lose a limb or two to frostbite to save you,” he said through gritted teeth, and she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not.

Rin slicked her wet hair back. “Okay, well. Let’s run a few laps to ensure we have blood flowing to all our limbs. You can demonstrate to me your best time.”

Len groaned at the idea, but got into position. He reached out for her hand in the dark, and she grabbed it, feeling his ice-cold fingers against her own. “Gumi told me to tell you,” he said in between shudders, “that we’re both insufferable.”

“Well, she better eat her words, because it’s her turn to confess next weekend,” Rin said breathily, before she launched herself forward, dragging Len along with her.

They ran, hands together and soaking wet in the middle of winter, until warm blankets and hot chocolate came to the rescue.

Thankfully, no one lost any limbs or became a fish forever that night (or ever).

.

fin

[iamalivenow]

Orimar loves deeply and unapologetically.

He always has, he always will, it's only somewhat of a character flaw of his. If he was maybe six (four) tankards down, he'd admit that it was maybe a tiny bit of a problem for him. There are dozens of hundreds of ports all across the world where Orimar Vale, The Orimar Vale, yes ladies, yes gentlemen, yes assorted personages, That Great and Fantastic Orimar Vale, Legendary Corsair, unparalleled in all of the skies and seas and lands, undoubtedly broke at least one heart. He loathes to do it, of course, but his greatest love is the skies, the adventure, the faint smell of salt and the strong smell of iron. That's just the way it is, darlings, there's nothing he could do about it. He's charisma on legs, and adventure calls him too sweetly for him to deny it. And he didn't have favorites, of course not. (And not at all anyone one specific Queen hidden at the edge of the world. Of course not.) Some people could call that sort of this dishonest, or that he was only interested in the more carnal aspects of a relationship, which was, honestly, the funniest thing he's ever heard. What's the point of sleeping with someone if they can't look you in the eyes and just know your entire life story from just one glance? It's true, he's a romantic. Guilty as charged. Lock him up and throw away the key. And anyone who said otherwise was obviously paid to slander his name. He loves his ship too, and all of his gold, and his feather weave. He loves all of his crew, even the sicklier orphans who are most certainly on their way off of the mortal coil already. He picks up a scrawny nervous kid from a tiny monastery because he needs a doctor, and so does his crew, and so does his ship and not for any other reason at all.

.

Orimar loves deeply and unapologetically. It's not all romantic, or horny. Sometimes he can understand that people aren't into that, and Orimar Vale is nothing if not respectable, and if anyone tells you otherwise point them in his direction because he has a slander charge he'd like to raise against them. Dref Wormwood, as he prefers to be called, is a slim tiny thing with maybe seven separate anxiety disorders that Orimar Vale adores. He's so sharp and so clever, give him a problem of any kind it'll be solved in a day or two. Sure, the kid might have worked himself up into thirty different states, but he'll get you a solution. Signed sealed delivered, there it is. He gives him an office, gives him tools and texts and lab coats. Robs several churches and doesn't ask questions. Whatever his doctor needs, Orimar will get for him, because it's Dref. If he wants something, it'll just help him out later. Orimar's pretty smart, actually. He has to be to stay alive for so long, in his line of work. He does get hurt sometimes, mostly when he's robbing churches, or when he's running away from the fucking Red Feathers because he was robbing a church, and hey- it's not like they have any proof he was doing that, they weren't there. He sinks most of them, some he doesn't bother with, because he's nothing without his legacy. Someone has to be around to tell everyone else that it was Orimar Vale, greatest corsair alive, who sunk them like an excited child sunk a paper boat in a puddle. Regardless of the military's ineptitude, and back to the infinity more interesting point. He would give his doctor relics and then watch as he worked, spinning profane miracles like they're nothing at all. Dref would always get this smile, it would spread over his entire face like the prettiest bloom, and he would take notes and shout 'yes' to himself whenever he something worked out just right. Orimar gets his arm shot off at some point. Who actually cares how it happened. (Fucking Red Feathers) He sits on Dref's examining table and watches his poor sweet doctor try and not vomit at the sight of all of the exposed muscle. It's a good thing he wears a red coat because otherwise, the staining would be way more obvious. Dref stutters through an apology, and Orimar gives him a wink. "Full faith." He says and means it, and Dref Wormwood gives him his arm back like it never even really left. "What a saint you are." And he'd blush all the way up to his ears, and Orimar gets to marvel at him all on his own.

.

Orimar loves deeply and unapologetically. Being dead isn't actually going to stop him from doing that. What is he, an amateur? His wonderful, brilliant, talented doctor fixed him, just like he always did. Things are stiff, and his body is not his own, not fully, and he can barely, really, barely move at all without Dref's wonderful distortion of magic coursing through his veins. Well okay, not his veins, cause he's not really using those anymore. Through the meat of his arms and his legs and his spine. Would you believe how hard it is to stand upright with non-functional nerve endings? Significantly harder than one would think, it turns out. It is a bit embarrassing, and not at all how he hoped Dref would end up in his bedroom one day, but he's here regardless, sewing foreign muscle and real and true magic into his body. He gets to enjoy Dref's excitement when he gets the wink right for the first time, gets to enjoy Dref's confused face when he can only begin walking with his left foot, gets to enjoy Dref's exhaustion, so wiped from all of the godhood in his body that he falls face-first onto the bed and passes out for a few hours. He cherishes every vague and distant moment, just vaguely aware of his doctor at the best of times. Death isn't so bad when he's got someone to share it with.

.

Orimar loves deeply and unapologetically. Sorry, Gable. Nothing personal, obviously. Orimar would love nothing more than to get to know you, get to know the real you, whatever weird celestial stuff you got going on sounds great. It really does. But Orimar severs their strings like gossamer thread and bolts out the window because as much as he'd like to sit here with Gable and Jonnit, great kids really both of them, and hold his Queen's heart tight and close and warm it as much as he can in his very not warm hands, there's somewhere he really has to be. He's never run this fast before, alive or otherwise. He's pretty sure something snapped, but Dref will understand, Dref will fix him, everything will be just fine, just good, as long as he can get to their hotel room. Does he shove past people? Yes. Does he apologize? Morally, sure. He bounds up stair after stair after stair when he feels it, the stab in his chest that- He falters. No- No- No- No- He's such a problem solver, such a smart kid, so clever- It has to be just- just phantom pains or something. He gets them sometimes, when he remembers his first mate, or when he remembers her. That's all- and again- even sharper- right up against his heart (if it was still beating he'd be bleeding by now) no- move harder, move faster, use the muscles his brilliant doctor sewed into him, another step another stair- he's so cold. he's never been this cold before. He's only a few moments from the door before the satisfaction floods him. Like his new second life, the sensation is so all-encompassing and so profusely- well fucking satisfying that he stills for a moment. He's honestly kind of upset they never got a chance to work out the tear ducts again because his face would be so wet right now. For a dozen reasons, sure, but now, more than anything, he's so happy for Dref Wormwood. He takes his moment. Alone for the first time in months. Unspeakably miserable. He thinks that's fair. He's always been a man of company. The fear ebbs away- no- he forces it away because that's not what Dref would have wanted. Orimar Vale, pretty great memory, as it turns out. Probably cause he's pretty smart. So he can remember every question Dref ever asked about what it was like, what that great final slumber was like. Orimar always wished he could tell then, or at the very least joke about how he wouldn't Really know. Cause he was there, and not like. Dead dead. He's so proud, ecstatic, over every moon that Dref's finally got his answers. Maybe, he'd be happier, overall, if it was peaceful and in his sleep and a million miles away from his god awful brother, but peaceful and in his sleep wouldn't have netted him nearly as many answers. One last moment, to remember a lifetime of swordcraft, to remember just how to bring down a blade, so it Hurt. So it Hurt more than anything in the entire fucking world. Where the muscles join the bone, where the joints were fragile, just how deep he could stab before some piece of shit started fainting. He shoves through the door, blade raised, and gives his biggest brightest smile before doing his very utmost best to rip Tiberius Youngblood to fucking shreds and to make the process last.

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

Aos Kirk/Reader FWB gets feels?

{ It’s for you, my dear anon ~ 

Don’t forget to like or reblog if you like my writing, that would make me so glad! }

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>>FLUFF BINGO PROMPTS

☀️ JAMES T. KIRK ☀️

Everyoneknew Kirk’s womanizer attitude and it was not surprising to see him always witha different girl. Captain Casanova, the heartbreaker captain, the one who nevergot fond. However, he loved all those girls but only for one night. A passing,fickle but passionate and unforgettable love. A love that was not meant tolast, maybe it was not even love but a mere adventure, but whatever it was, youcould not help but desire him and he could not help but desire you.

Youwere different but like the other girls, because you were his friend but notthat kind of friend, not a normal friend because you were more than just afriend but you were still not enough to be considered his true lover. Anundefined, strange feeling that was becoming harmful took place in your heart.The ice in your heart, because you could not fall in love with him, was heatingup and melting. Your coldness was now boiling, you were no longer able to beindifferent towards him and you were not even able to pretend that you did notcare.

Youwere really in love with Kirk, being just his friend was not enough for you andyou wanted this warm feeling, warmer than lava to disappear because it was sohot that it would have burned you if this burning sentiment would not bereciprocated.

Kirkcould not love you, you did not want to delude yourself, since he was yourcaptain and such a relationship was not possible.

Hisspirit was free, adventurous and nomadic, he never stayed on the same planet,he never looked at the same star because he got tired, he needed to explore. Everylover for him was like a new world to discover, to conquer and even to hurt.Anyone who fell in love with him had their heart broken gently. You did notwant to, so you were silent and you took the pain because you did not want tostop this relationship even if it was tying and freezing your soul.

“Itwas so great.” Kirk said, smiling happily.

“Asalways.” You said, kissing him.

“There’sno better way to start the day.” He whispered between your wet lips.

Passionwarmed his body and almost wanted to make love with you again but time was hisenemy and so he had to give up his desire.

Eventhis time, he would betray you for his ship, his only true love but you smiled,accepting your miserable fate.

“Doyou have to leave already?” You asked, maliciously smiling, a malice thatonly served to hide the sadness that slept in your heart.

“Yes,I’m still the Captain of this ship so I can’t stay. I’m sorry.” He said,grinning and then he jumped up. He dressed quickly, as if he was running away,as if he had perceived your real state of mind, but that was impossible. He hadduties and you were a way like any other to satisfy his primitive needs, thiswas the truth. It was the sad and simple reality. You were just a hobby forhim.

Kirkwent away, leaving you alone and cold in this lonely and desolate quarters.

Thisstory had to end and you had to tell him the truth, this situation was drivingyou mad.

“I missed you, honey.” He said, after a long day of hard work, he wantedhis reward, his moment of relaxation. He smiled at you, kissing your neck,blowing in your ear and hugging your body that warmed at his touch.

No,you did not want to respond to his touches, you did not want to hug him orreturn his passionate kisses. No, you had to face him, challenge your fears andconfess the feelings you felt for him even if he would refuse them. You couldno longer lie or even suffer for him.

“Jim…” you whispered but your words seemed sighs of affection.

“Iwant you…” he said, giggling and then you refused him, putting yourhands on his chest and looking at him with a cold expression that he had neverseen on your face.

“Please,Jim. I want to talk to you… ” you said in a serious but sad tone ofvoice.

“Ofcourse…” Kirk’s face darkened and he was already thinking about the worst.

“I’msorry but I cannot continue this, I don’t want to do this anymore… Not withyou…” you held back your tears, trying to stay calm.

“What?What are you saying? What happened? We’re great together, you know how much Iadore the time I spend with you.” He said, smiling softly but you looked away.

“Iknow it. And that’s why I don’t want it anymore. You consider me only duringthese moments, for you I am nothing but a game, a play date. I’m like everyoneelse…” you raised your voice.

“Aplay date? Are you crazy?” Kirk did not understand and he answered, raising hisvoice.

“Yes,I’m crazy for you… So … I’m very sorry. But every day is the same thing.You send me to heaven but the next moment I find myself in hell, I don’t know.I’m just tired.” You told him, bursting into tears.

“I’mso sorry. Why didn’t you tell me before? I didn’t think… I don’t… ” Jimwas upset, covering his head in his hands, sighing and he felt guilty.

“Whyshould have I told you? It was useless! I wanted to delude myself and I thoughtI was okay with it, but I’m not okay. You’re a free spirit, I’m not like you, andI’m not an adventure. I can’t ignore my feelings and so I believe that the onlyway is to stop, before those feelings kill me.” You confessed, you did not wantit to end like that but you could not bear it no more.

“No,no… You’re stupid!” Kirk said, angry but he did what you did not expectand hugged you suddenly.

Kirkwas crying, but he put his face on your shoulder and so you did not notice histears but you could hear his sobs.

“Jim?”You asked him, “Are you okay?” You were so confused that your voicecame out like a whisper.

“I’mso sorry. It’s absurd! How could I be so stupid, insensitive and selfish? How?”Then he looked up and smiled at you. Were his tears of joy? You did not understand.

“What?”You asked him.

“Ilove you, Y / N! I’ve always loved you but I’ve been too stupid to realize it.”He said and felt light, as if he had freed himself of a weight that suffocatedhim.

Kirkfelt the same feeling for you, even he could not believe that the great andmagnificent Captain of the Enterprise could fall truly in love but it happenedand he was content that you were his true love.

Afterthis wonderful revelation, you and he made love for the first time. Real love.

[milkierways]

Whatever You Say

Word Count: 1850

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Request(s): “Hey!!! I love Poe and ur account!!! So I was wondering if I could maybe get a Poe x reader where the reader hates Poe cuz he’s stuck up but gets to know him a bit better and starts to love him as well and gets really confused and angry? Its OK if no, but thanks!” - @nerdyemocrap

Warning(s): None (If I need to add some, let me know!)

I changed up the request just a tad bit amigo, hope you don’t mind! I really like how this turned out and my aim is for you to feel the same. <3

If one thing was true, it was that you hated Poe Dameron. At least, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s what you wanted everyone else to think, too. Everybody seemed to love him, with his irresistible charm and striking good looks. Your teammates liked to tease you about him being the perfect poster boy for the rebellion.

Yeah, the poster child for why no one should ever procreate, you’d think.

You despised the way he would feign humility when all he did was gloat, the way he’d walk into a room and immediately grab all the attention without even saying a word, the way he’d always grin at you with that award-winning smile. He made you want to punch a wall out of anger. Or that’s what you told yourself

More than once, he’d stolen your thunder, took the shot for you, swooped in and saved the day without being asked to. And, Maker, was he reckless. It seemed as if he never considered anyone else’s safety when in the air, it was all about him. That wasn’t something you had to lie to yourself about, though.

What made everything worse, was the fact that Poe Dameron actually made attempts to befriend you. Non-stop.

He’d walk up to you and start a conversation while you tried to fix your ship, or when you were eating dinner, or when you were in the command centre. It was like a never-ending barrage of Poe, Poe, Poe, and more Poe. Deep down, you didn’t mind it, but that didn’t mean you had to let everyone know.

“Hey (Y/N),” he walked up with a smirk as if he knew how much you didn’t like him and had decided to pester you anyway. “How’s my favourite pilot doing today?”

You scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you’re your own favourite pilot, Dameron.”

He chuckled and nodded, “I see you’re continuing the salty facade, as usual.”

You reached around for your wrench, climbing up onto the wing of your ship to tighten a couple loose panels that could cause unbalanced flight if you weren’t careful. You groaned when you realised you’d grabbed the wrong size for the bolts you were using. You glanced down to see Poe holding up the right one.

“Needing something?” He asked, smugly. You scowled, reaching down and attempted to snatch the tool from his hand. He pulled back so you couldn’t reach, tutting his tongue against the roof of his mouth to make a clicking noise.

“C’mon, Dameron, give me that,” you snapped angrily. He smiled innocently up at you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, (Y/N),” he beamed toothily. You were about ready to leap down and smack that grin right off of him.

“Poe, now,” you demanded. His eyes held a sparkling glint as an idea struck him.

“On one condition,” he started. You rolled your eyes, sitting back on your heels.

“What?” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“You sit with me at dinner tonight,” he volunteered. You laughed aloud.

“In your dreams, flyboy,” you retorted, amused. He wasn’t kidding though.

“Alright, well, you can say goodbye to your tools then. I know a mechanic who could really use a new set right about now, and these all look perfect,” he teased, spinning his finger around your tool bag thoughtfully. You glared daggers at him.

“Fine,” you mumbled through gritted teeth.

“What was that?” He asked, his hand resting in the air above your bag.

“Fine, I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” you said louder. A smile broke out on his face, causing your face to heat up. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like it. It was embarrassing.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you in the cantina later, then,” he said, reaching up to hand you the tool you needed. You frowned and watched as he sauntered away, success filling his gait with happiness while you were left defeated.

You huffed in annoyance as he finally disappeared from the hangar, leaving you to work on your X-wing.

“(Y/N)! Over here!” A voice called over the incessant chatter of the cantina. You glanced over to see Poe waving you down. You shot a desperate look over at your friend, begging them to pull you away, but all they did was push you closer to his table. You sighed, slowly treading over and slouching down on the stool.

“Good evening, sunshine,” he greeted with a smile. You nodded your hellos. Poe wasted no time in introducing you to the rest of Black Squadron. You sent them all a curt smile and quickly bit into your bread, trying your hardest to avoid speaking.

Soon enough, Poe became engrossed in a conversation with Snap, leaving you and Jessika to yourselves.

“He likes you, you know,” Jessika started. You shot her a confused glance. “He talks about you constantly. Heard many good things about you.”

“No, not from Poe you haven’t,” you laughed. Now it was Jessika’s turn to be dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been nothing but rude to him since we first met,” you explained. “But, I have a good reason.”

“No, no, I understand why. He’s a douche at times,” Jess smiled, taking a bite out of her own meal.

There was another awkward silence before she spoke again.

“He says you’re a good pilot, but he’d rather you be on the ground,” she said through a mouthful of food. Anger flared up inside you, the thought of him wanting you grounded causing your ears to turn red.

“Oh yeah?” You asked through gritted teeth. Jess swallowed hard to get her food down.

“Wait, not like that, he isn’t trying to say that he wants to keep you down or anything. He just knows you’re a skilled mechanic and he thinks being on base is safer than in the air,” Jessika was quick to defend him, noticing your change in attitude.

Just as soon as it had arrived, your anger subsided, leaving you wondering why in the Maker’s good galaxy would Poe Dameron want you safe on base. Before you could ask why your conversation was interrupted.

“Hey, (Y/N), did Poe ever tell you about the time he tried to ride a Runyip back on Yavin IV?” Snap laughed loudly, a smile lighting up his face. You glanced over at Poe whose face was red as a berry. Obviously, it was an embarrassing story, causing you to want to learn more.

“No, in fact, he hasn’t,” you grinned smugly over at him as Snap began to go into the storytelling zone, spilling every humiliating detail. You stared straight at Poe for the entire duration of the narrative, relishing in how miserable the cocky pilot looked. You don’t remember all of the tale, but you know it ended with a broken arm and a long lecture from Poe’s father.

Truly a tale to tell the grandchildren, you thought.

Wait, why were you thinking about grandchildren? That implied actually having kids of your own. And with Poe no less. You almost shuddered, glad you caught the error of your ways before you said something you’d regret.

After a night full of more stories, ranging from battles to childhood shenanigans, the Black Squadron decided to head to the hay for the night. You would have gone back to your quarters too if Poe hadn’t asked for you to accompany him on a nighttime stroll around the base

You almost declined, but the look of hope on his face prevented you from doing so. Thinking back on it, you wondered what the kriff had gotten into you. You’d never been affected by him before, so why now? What was happening to you? Were you actually starting to let yourself like him? Once again, you pushed away the thought. No way, no how, would you ever enjoy the presence of Poe Dameron, the most stuck-up pilot the Resistance had to offer. It wasn’t a smart thing to do in any way, shape, or form.

“So, am I ever going to get an explanation as to why you hate me so much?” He asked after a few moments of walking. His words froze you to the core, causing you to stop in your tracks. The truth was, you didn’t hate him. Not really. You just wanted to, oh so badly. But that didn’t mean you really truly hated him. He might be an annoyance, yes, but never someone you hated, no matter what you told yourself. You opened your mouth to answer him, but he cut you off. “Because, to me, it really doesn’t seem like you dislike me as much as you claim to. In fact, I’d say that you actually really like me. You just refuse to admit it.”

There it was, that snarky Poe Dameron that you knew all too well. The one that made your blood boil in your veins. “Maybe it’s because you make comments like that that makes me hate you,” you sneered.

“What? I’m just stating the obvious truth, (Y/N),” he defended.

“Whatever you say, prince charming,” you grumbled under your breath.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said. You rolled your eyes but let him continue. “I bet that I can make you fall for me in a month’s time.”

“Oh? And if you don’t?” You interrogated. He smiled.

“Then you get to humiliate me in any way you see fit,” he suggested. An evil grin spread across your lips, a glint in your eye.

“Alright, if you can’t get me to fall for you, then you get to run a lap around base soaking wet and in your underwear. And I get to record it.”

The colour drained from Poe’s cheeks a little, but he nodded and outstretched his hand. “If I win the bet, you get to go on a date with me.”

You swallowed and reached your hand out to shake his. “Deal.”

Poe grinned again, making your stomach flutter for some unknown reason. You frowned as he stepped closer and pressed a kiss to your cheek, making you blush like crazy. “I’ll see you later then, (Y/N).”

Oh, this was going to be hard.

[gracevilliers]

Blood of my blood, Part 2 || Grace & Yamina

Yamina woke up first, if only because she was attuned to this. As a human she always woke up when dawn broke; as a vampire she habitually woke at dusk. She opened her eyes to find the Huntress - the Huntress no more still cradled against her chest. The blonde creature looked pale, paler than usual when she'd been mortal. A pang of sorrow and grief shot through Yamina's tired frame as she stroked her fledgling. All the pain and grief she'd felt losing her other children now poured directly into this one. Her new child. And Yamina realized then as she touched the golden hair that Grace Villiers was not just her only child now, but she would be her last. No more progeny after this one. Yamina would dedicate the rest of her immortal life doting on Grace and Grace alone.

Yamina In one way it was still partly revenge. To give this ex-Hunter everything a vampire had to offer as her Sire. To treat her with the utmost attention and groom her to become a perfect specimen of vampirism. To make her Hunter family and everyone who knew Grace for her vampire-slaughtering skills and tracking abilities, feel grief and mourning. Because in their human eyes, Grace Villiers the proud Hunter, was now an abomination. A beast who needed to be put down. Nothing more than the monsters she took pride in killing. Now she was the one they had to kill. Yamina hoped it would shatter their miserable, wretched beating hearts.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and a skinny old man entered, pausing in shock at the damage in the bedroom, at Yamina out of her coffin and holding an Englishwoman. "Mistress, is everything alright?" the thrall asked, bowing and servile in his concern. Yamina nodded. "Yes boy," she replied, although the man was almost 65. "Did you bring food?" The old man nodded and dry-washed his hands, scampering back out and returning with three different people, all tied and blindfolded and scared. One was a young woman from the Far East; the other a teenaged boy; the third was a burly pale red-headed man. Yamina looked at them and the pointed one finger towards the adult man. "Him. Is he from one of the prison ships?" The thrall nodded proudly, knowing he'd chosen well when Yamina smiled. "Leave him and return the others. My child will be waking up soon."

It felt like awakening from a dream. Slow and groggy, the world coming into view around Grace with a dim greyness. Her body ached, though in her barely conscious state, she couldn't consciously understand the reasons for it just yet. Half from the battle, and half from her transition. She was heavy-eyed and heavy-souled, as if her body carried the weight of what had been done to her before her mind could piece it together. Grace awoke, limbs languid and stiff, but immediately taut and tense when she realized someone was holding her. How ironic that such gentle and loving hands should have done such violence to her. She struggled, pulling away and scrambling to her feet. The room stank, she realized, her enhanced, starving senses picking him out. Like human. "What the bloody hell did you do to me?" Grace spat, knowing the answer before the words had even left her lips.

Yamina rose gracefully and seemingly with a lack of effort (although it did take some effort). "I think you know, Grace," Yamina replied. She straightened her gown and went to pick up her coat, pulling it on as if to shield herself from the mortal environment around her. "You're weak, my dear, but I admire your strength nonetheless. Are you hungry?" Yamina was sure Grace was starving. As a fledgling, hunger was a sensation that usually overtook everything else, consumed a vampire until they learned to control those baser instincts. With a good Sire of course, someone who could teach them to temper those uncontrollable impulses. "Do you smell him? Not the stink of his skin, but the blood underneath. Can you hear his heart?" She motioned languidly to the burly man, who was trying to break out of his bonds. "Wot's that then? Just a couple of whores trying to scare me then? I'll give ye something to be scared of, girls," the man growled, neck flexing.

Grace had never felt so many sensations before. The very air around her seemed to be a living thing. She could hear every movement, every rustling piece of fabric on the wind outside, every voice from surrounding patrons of the nearby marketplace, the rustling of coin in someone's pocket, and yes, the heartbeat, so loud that it overtook almost everything else. Where were her weapons? She glanced around for them, but the vampire must have disposed of them before Grace had collapsed. "I... I'm going to be sick," she answered, her physical hunger, her desperation, her need for blood, all at war with everything she had ever been taught, with her own disgust. "I'll kill you for this."

"You may," Yamina replied with a sad smile as she watched Grace with calm for careful eyes. She couldn't help the smile turning a little piqued at Grace completely ignoring the human. No concern for the man just yet, not while she was fully consumed in her own throes of agony and dilemma. "Or you may learn to accept it. Only the weak-willed cannot handle this gift. Only the weak-willed throw this gift away, like an unthinking fool. I do not think you are foolish, my child." The blindfolded man was clearly agitated by being completely ignored despite his leers and threats and he managed to shift his blindfold up past one eye, to see the two women. "Ey girlie," he tried to cajole Grace. "Why don't you get of yer lil negress servant here and let's you and me have some real fun, ey?"

Grace was even more annoyed by the vampire's calm and careful tone, the way she addressed Grace so simply and plainly, not even rising to agitation. She could at least have fought with her, argued with her, instead of simply reasoning with her like a sensible human. For a sensible human she was not. "Shut up, shut up," she hissed, repeating the words, trying to ignore her pounding senses, the sickening desire in her to feed. "I'm neither weak nor a fool, but I won't be a monster, either!" The ugly man was addressing her with ugly words. Grace scoffed. The more he spoke, the harder it was for her to ignore the pounding of his heart, the warm red liquid that flowed through his body. Did he really think she was in the mood to be flirted with? "Shut. Up." She repeated, snarling almost in spite of herself, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing.

"No, you are not a monster. You are so much more than that," Yamina said, all low and honeyed words. She was hungry herself, but like all good mothers she wanted her child to eat first before she'd take a single sip. "I understand what it must be like, to be trained as a Hunter. Born into it, told over and over that your cause was right, and your enemy was wrong. No questions meant no faltering. You were righteous; after all, your elders taught you this. Why should you ever wonder if your actions were wrong?" Yamina crossed to the other side of the room, giving Grace a wide berth to explore her own overload of senses and emotions freely. "That is not true strength, my dear. That is zealotry hiding behind violence." Yamina raised her chin, eyes flaring in some contained excitement as Grace turned on the man finally and acknowledged his presence with a threat of her own. The man looked confused and surprised. "A criminal, scum no doubt." Yamina came closer, turned the man's head to look at her. The vampire's eyes turned golden, mesmerizing. "Tell me boy - what was your crime?" Compelled to answer, the man replied, "I - I killed me wife. And me little girl. The screamin'...the screamin'...I liked it." Yamina stared coldly at him and then at Grace. "And this is what you used to protect? From me?"

Grace squeezed her eyes closed. She knew it was dark, and yet it didn't feel dark to her, an enhanced nocturnal vision disorientating her. She felt like she could no longer tell night from day. She shook her head. The words falling from her sire's lips were the words of the devil, she told herself. "Liar," she hissed. "You feed and you kill and you want me to do the same." But she wanted it too. The warmth of his skin was too much for her to handle. Grace wet her lips with her tongue. Her fingertips buried in his skin made her all the more conscious of his flesh, his blood. "You're disgusting," she said, unsure whether she was talking to him, the vampire, or herself. Perhaps it was all three. He was a killer. So why shouldn't she just sink her teeth into him? The very thought itself was the only encouragement she needed, and she slammed him against one of the very walls she had been thrown against just hours before, sinking her teeth into him and devouring him.

Yamina had nothing to say as Grace refuted her, tried desperately to hold on to that morality of the Hunters. Their code and their scripture and their belief, it was strong. It was admirable, really, if Yamina hadn't just had her children slaughtered by them like cattle. The man's way to handle this would be to break Grace down and build her back up, but Yamina Moire had rejected man's methods a long time ago. It was what made her so strong in the Vampire Councils across the continent - yet at the same time, it had made her vulnerable to the other vampire's fears and jealousy. Like scrabbling rats, just as Hunters described them. Just because she believed in the old ways did not mean she would adhere to the methodologies of men. Grace was her baby - and compassion for her children was always Yamina's way. Even if she'd hated Grace as a human, she felt that intrinsic Progeny-Sire bond forming between them now. Now, as Grace slammed the human filth against the wall and sank her teeth into his neck. "One bite now," Yamina coaxed her. "Try to get one good bite, and the blood will flow." As Grace drank though, Yamina picked up the man's wrist and bit into it as well. For as much as she loved her newborn daughter, the elder vampire knew she couldn't stay weak while Grace grew strong. To make that mistake would spell her doom. She fully believed Grace would attack her next.

Grace felt a wave of relief wash over her new body as the blood flowed into her. Her brain was less foggy, her muscles less achy, her skin clearer. The smell was intoxicating. She drank and drank and drank, listening to the soothing sounds of her sire's encouragement and for a moment, not even able to be angry about it or disgusted by it. She simply drank until the blood flowed no more and the man fell dead to the ground, like the wife and daughter he had put there. Yamina had been drinking too. She looked almost proud. Something in Grace was happy about that, their instinsic fond forming in spite of Grace's prior feelings. The contradictions melded together. "....What do you do with the body?" Grace wondered out loud.

Yamina gave a languid flick of her hand. "I have thralls to take care of that, they're very useful. Humans who want to be in the presence of vampires, entranced by is, by our beauty...." She came closer, motioned to a standing mirror so Grace could see herself. She was always stately and beautiful but now as a vampire and just fed, she was practically glowing, a preturnatural beauty. "It's a low-level compelling that keeps them loyal, all of it agreed upon. Some people are made to serve. Others, to enjoy the fruits of their labour." It was a very old-fashioned concept, that only recently in history was being questioned in the name of civility. But Yamina was old-fashioned in her ways. "My dear I must say, you aren't just my progeny, but you're also a prodigy. I've never had a child so controlled, so self-disciplined." Yamina supposed it was all that Hunter training.

Grace furrowed her brow. Thralls. The thought left distaste in her mouth. Too bad that distaste was overpowered by blood. She'd never drank something so delicious in all her life. And she hated herself for it. She'd just killed someone. She'd killed a killer. Why was it so different now? She told herself she killed murderers every time she went hunting. "You call this control?" She scoffed, regarding the body on the floor and gesturing to it. "He's dead. If that's what passes for discipline to you, I'd hate to see chaos."

"You would hate to see the chaos. Don't be a prude, child. Somehow I don't buy it. You've seen far too much to pretend you don't understand chaos, haven't stared it down and refused to accept it. I see it now, in the way you feed." Because Yamina had seen worse, far worse. Fledglings that were little more than rabid animals, tearing into flesh and soaking themselves in blood. Yamina loved all her children yes of course; but the animalistic ones always disappointed her a little. Not Grace though. "Come out into the night with me, see what new joy this world has to offer you in the moonlight. Unless you're still intent on murdering me?"

"Don't call me 'child'," Grace hissed through gritted teeth still coated in the man's blood. The fangs felt as if they took up too much room in her mouth. She had to focus to retract them. "I've seen chaos. When your kind drink the streets dry and leave bodies ripped open in the gutter. I kill your kind to stop that from happening, not be part of it." And yet, as angry as she had been when she had first awoken, she couldn't claim to want to kill the other woman. Sire bond, or something else, Grace wasn't sure, but it was infuriating. "I want to go home." She had only just asked to not be called child, only to sound like one. "But that will never happen, thanks to you. If you think we're going to be friends..."

"Did you kill his kind too?" Yamina asked, motioning to the dead criminal. "Why stop with vampires? If you believe so strongly that you have justice and righteousness on your side, why not kill anyone who disturbs your idea of 'peace'? You have the ability. Pray tell my dear - what do you do with vampires bodies, once you've destroyed their immortal life? Don't be so sanctimonious," she spat, unable to stop herself from getting a little worked up about it. "Humans are just as terrible if not worse. Oh, you have your laws and courts - but who do those rules truly benefit? His wife and child? He was still alive, he still got to sruvive. Until you made use of him. And such a good use too, because you deserve to be fed by his blood. Because you'll survive, even if you murder me. I don't believe you will never kill yourself, even now. Stick to your morals if you prefer. Kill only those who you deem to be killed, in all your worthiness. But make no mistake, my child - you have always been a killer. A killer of both innocents and murderers alike. That has not changed."

"Because vampires aren't human. There's a difference. Humans get hanged. They don't hang vampires at the Old Bailey because they don't know they exist. That only leaves us." She still spoke about them like they were separate, as if she wasn't one of them now, as if she was still a hunter. Grace stared at her sire through eyes damp with a mix of anger, hurt and frustration. She should have killed her. She should have been better. But she had failed. This was the price she would pay. Whether she would have the courage to kill herself in the sunlight, Grace wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't stay here. "I will never be your child," she said, pushing open the doors to the balcony and dropping from the first storey with newfound strength and agility, heading out into the night.

[sueboohscorner]

OUTLANDER S3 Ep8 : "First Wife" or.....The Bitch Is Back

Okay, so I will admit it.  I didn't hate this episode as much as I thought.  It was actually a pretty good episode, so I give kudos to the new writer who wrote this one.

So, just as we found out at the end of the episode, Jamie and Claire are taking Young Ian back to Lallybroch. We are spared the tedious long journey across the country from Edinburgh and we see them come through the archway.  Claire admits that she never thought to see that place again.  However, the greeting she receives is not as welcoming as she thought.  Jenny makes a few snide comments towards Claire. "So that's why your home, tail dragging and with a stray who's dropped back into our lives after 20 years as though nothing's changed." 

Everyone heads inside and of course Young Ian has to chime in that Auntie Claire killed a man only a day after she arrived.  "Killed him good!" he boasts.  Claire sees the dirty looks and adds that yes, it wasn't her fault, the man attacked her and most importantly it wasn't in front of Young Ian.  Young Ian is ordered from the room and to make sure he is easy to find when it is time for an ass whooping.  

The conversation turns on Jamie and keeping the secret of their son's whereabouts.  Jamie says he thinks of Young Ian as a son himself and would do anything to keep him safe.  Well, Ian speaks up and hands Jamie his belt.  If he thinks of Young Ian so much like a son, then he has to discipline him as such.  In a change from the book (I mean God forbid we see a spanking on screen....especially being in the 1700's!), Jamie suggests that there is another way to punish the boy. Jenny adds a snide remark to her brother, “Listen to you telling me what I should do. You must ken it’s a mortal sin to take another wife while the first still walks the Earth!” Jamie replies that he would have never done such a thing if he had known that Claire was still alive.

 A little while later we see that Young Ian is made to work in the muck and straw which he complains to his sister, hanging out laundry, that it is little kids work.  He's miserable. LOL! Meanwhile, Claire sees that the Fraser/Murray family breeds like freaking rabbits.  She meets a few of Young Jamie and his sister, Margaret's kids running around.  Both Young Jamie and Margaret were just babies themselves when Claire left.

Jamie and Jenny have a moment to themselves and Jenny asks where the hell Claire has been all these years.  Jamie just gives her the half truths as with everyone else.  He got Claire to safety and he went back to Culloden prepared to die.  She, thinking he was dead, boarded a ship and sailed to America and she has been living in Boston until now.

Jenny is not stupid by any means and can smell a lie a mile away.  She tells Jamie, "The Claire I kenned would never have stopped looking for you."  Well, Jenny, it is expensive and dangerous to cross the ocean on those boats and there is no easy way to do research from over there.....so......

In their room later that evening, Claire asks Jamie why they can't just tell Jenny the truth about her time travelling abilities. After all, it worked with Murtagh.  Jamie's answer?  That Murtagh was a worldly man, meaning he has been around and traveled and more open minded. Jenny has never been off the estate and she just wouldn't see it the same way and be as open to it.  In my opinion, that is the DUMBEST answer ever.  Basically calling Jenny a simpleton.  Not cool dude.

Jamie suggests they could build a nice cottage for them both on the outskirts of the estate.  Claire isn't so sure, as Jenny can't even stand the sight of her.  Jamie remembers back to when he thought she might have come back and tells her how he escaped Ardsmuir prison after hearing the ranting of Duncan Kerr about a white witch that guards the treasure.

Here we get to see the part missing from that episode when Jamie swam to Silkie Island to search for Claire.  The swimming of that sea must have been ice cold and in reality you have to think he might have gotten hypothermia or something. However, a wet, distraught, and desperate Jamie climbs up to the old ruins on the island and starts screaming for Claire.  Jamie's voice over is telling Claire that of course he didn't find her, but he turned and looked in just the right direction and saw the McKenzie clan crest etched into a stone.  He removed it and found a box that held ancient coins, some jewelry and some precious stones.  He knew he couldn't take it with him, so he just grabbed one sapphire, which we know is the one he gave to Lord John.

Jamie tells Claire he would have given everything to be with her again.  He tells Claire,  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Sassenach…” We know he is about to admit to Claire about remarrying, but the door bursts open and two girls, one with red hair, are there and one yells "Daddy!" 

Before Claire can totally react to that, the girl's mother appears.....none other that the bitch Laoghaire!  Told you people you wouldn't like it!  She looks at Jamie and then sees Claire and yells about him being with THAT WITCH and some other choice words I am not allowed to repeat here. 

She sees Claire's confused reaction and takes advantage and gloats “He didn’t tell you?” Laoghaire asks. “He’s my husband now.”  Claire is stunned and Jamie rushes Laoghaire out of the room. 

Claire in a shocked stupor, but anger rising by the minute, starts to gather her things to leave.  Jamie re-enters the room and tries to stop her from going.  Claire turns on him saying, “It’s Laoghaire,!“She tried to have me killed!” Jamie answers “You’re the one who told me to be kind to the lass." Claire scoffs and says, “I told you to thank her, not marry her!”

Claire asks the ultimate question we have all been wondering, why did he feel it okay to tell her about Willie, but NOT about his other wife, Laoghaire?  Jamie admits that he was scared that she would be upset and leave and he didn't want to lose her again. 

The fight escalates  and Jamie throws over a washstand and contents.  Then the true feelings are revealed.  Jamie feels abandoned by Claire leaving which she scoffs at since HE is the one that sent her away.  Claire says that she feels betrayed that Jamie was able to move on with his life without her. Jamie replies that he resents the idea of Frank raising his child and screwing his wife.  He asks Claire if she knows what it is like to live without a heart for so long.  Duh!  Claire answers that she does, she and Frank did not have a great marriage but he was a great dad to Bree.  After some more, Claire tries to leave again, Jamie grabs her arm, she demands he get his hands off of her and let her go, he refuses and they end up overcome with passion.  This would have been an awesome fight sex scene. They both end up trying to rip each other's clothing off and are on the floor grunting when none other than Jenny bursts in and throws a bucket of water over them.  She tells them to stop rutting like two wild animals and that the entire household could hear them.  Well, can't tell them to "get a room"....they already were there. Claire walks out leaving Jamie breathless and in shock on the floor.

Downstairs Claire is staring into the fire and is asked if she wants a whiskey.  It is Jenny's other daughter Janet.  She hands Claire the whiskey and asks for her apologies.  She was the one who went to summon Laoghaire.  Claire asks why and Janet admits it was because her mother told her to do it.  

Claire goes to confront Jenny and asks her why she did it.  Jenny said she had to watch her brother suffer all those years and then admits to seeing Claire's ghost (in the book it is her "fetch") inbetween Laoghaire and Jamie at the wedding.  Jenny asks why Claire, in 20 years never bothered to write.  Not once.  Claire tries the excuse that she thought Jamie was dead, but it is evident that Jenny isn't buying it.  Jenny makes a remark and Claire admits to having another husband in Boston as a matter of survival.  That makes Jenny stop.  Jenny admits to seeing Claire as a sister and it hurt that it seemed she wanted nothing to do with the family by not writing.  Jenny says that it is apparent that there is more to the story, but maybe Claire will tell her the rest someday.   It is a good moment between the two.

Claire is walking past the outbuildings heading out.  Jamie yells to her and she ignores him.  He pleads with her not to go, but she says she made a HUGE mistake in coming back here.  She reminds Jamie that he said that he promised not to lie and had her say it too.  He LIED this time. 

Before they can argue anymore, Laoghaire appears and has a gun which she points at Claire.  "He's mine." comes up (I am getting images of an episode of Bones here....mental lady obsessed with a man).  She is about to shoot and Jamie steps in front of Claire.  Laoghaire accidentally shoots the gun and buckshot gets Jamie's arm.  Laoghaire tries to come to Jamie's side, but Claire turns vehemently on her and actually scares her away.  LOL!! 

Doctor Claire comes out and they get Jamie on a table. Jamie makes a comment and Claire says that she is tempted but will not let him die. Ian is sent for hot water and Claire gets her tools and is assisted by Young Ian.  It is not easy, since it is buckshot and there is one piece lodged near an artery.  However, Claire is successful and gets him bandaged up. 

He is resting with Claire nearby and when he stirs, Claire asks why he married that woman.  He claimed that upon returning from Helwater, he had been away from Lallybroch too long. 

He was like a ghost and not needed.  He felt empty and possibly a little lonely especially at Hogaminy (Christmas  / New Years) when Lallybroch was alive like it was when his parents were alive. Two girls come up to him and ask him to dance and he decides to do so.  Afterward, he discovers that their mother is Laoghaire.  She had been married a couple of times, and now was alone trying to raise her girls by herself.  Jamie continues that it was okay at first, but there were days she wouldn't talk to him and she would recoil at his touch.  He tried to be gentle, but it was never enough.  She must have been sexually abused in her past marriages.  He eventually left and ended up in Edinburgh and would send money home.  Jamie starts to doze and Claire looks at him and feels his forehead.  He has a high fever.  She gets out the penicillin and the needle.  Jamie tries to protest and asks if it will hurt and Claire jabs him in the ass.  Yep.

The next day, Ned Gowan comes to visit and Claire is surprised to see that he is still alive and almost looks exactly the same.  He is there to counsel Jamie on his most unfortunate circumstance named Laoghaire.  Well, the good news is that since Jamie's first wife, Claire has returned, they are still married and the one with the other woman is not.  However, the bitch wants something in restitution.  20 pounds plus 10 pounds a year until the girls are wed.  Jamie and the family discuss the extortion of this woman and Jamie says it is his to bear, not Jenny and Ian's.  He remembers the treasure on the island, but because of his arm, he can't swim across to get it.  Young Ian offers himself, and Jamie admits the boy is a "brawny swimmer".  From there, they will head to France to meet up with cousin Jared who will be able to exchange the goods for sterling which he will send home to get to Laoghaire. Jenny of course, hates this idea, but eventually gives in to allowing her youngest son to be a man and gain experience and adventure (don't worry....lots of that coming up in the future!)

Claire and Jamie stand on a cliff watching Young Ian swim out to the island.    Claire starts to wonder if her and Jamie are still meant to be together.  Jamie tells Claire about a type of bird that when hunting it and you kill one, you must wait until morning for its mate to arrive and then kill it too or it would mourn itself to death. 

He says that Claire and he are mated for life.  He would not live without her (again).  Before they can get any deeper into their conversation, Claire notices something and has Jamie turn around.  It is a ship!  Jamie looks for Ian and sees him coming down from the ruins with the box.  However, the ship has dispatched a boat of men, who come upon the island. 

Jamie and Claire run down to the shoreline and are yelling to Ian when the men grab him, and throw him in the boat.  Great.....Jenny is going to LOVE THIS ONE!  

So that is where it ends this week.  Finally we will be on the open sea next week for more adventure.  

Tell me your thoughts in the comment section below!  Overall I would say a B+ for this episode!