#this chapter also mentions a guy getting pregnant but hes trans alright

[spinchip]

Never the Dark

Chapter 9

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

warnings: body horror, mentioned death of non-major character, threats of death

I RESENTED THE CONTENTMENT OF THE FIELD.// WHY MUST WE PRACTICE THIS SURRENDER?

“So,” Jay begins, “Nice weather we’re having, eh?”

The woman next to him gives him an incredulous look, “...What?” She makes a face, the bat slung over her shoulder swaying with each step.

“It was a joke. Like I said, ‘nice weather,’ but it’s funny because the weather isn’t nice at all.” He explains, motioning to the rolling clouds and gloom. A beat passes, “It’s funny.” he repeats.

She stares at him with all two and a half of her eyes, “Are these the type of jokes that get laughs where you’re from?”

“Nope.” Cole cuts in, “He strikes out at home too.”

“Hey!” Jay whips around to shoot Cole a dirty look, “I’ll have you know my mom thinks I’m hilarious!”

They trek through thick red woods while Jay shoots off a few more jokes, trying to prove his prowess as a comedian that all fall flat. The tension in the air is too thick to be cut with a good joke, let alone one of Jay's bad ones. The warriors from Oasis had formed a circle around them, boxing them in and guiding them along the treacherous ground-it isn’t long before the trees thin and the group steps out into tall grass. The grass is thick around as their fingers and grows up to Kai’s waist, thin spindly looking black plants lined with flower petals poke up sporadically through the grass. The grass is alive with movement, each tendril blindly attempting to wrap around the party's legs and trap them in place.

Birdy makes a rushing motion at Nya when she slows down to stare at the plants, and she catches on to why when she has to use more force than she thought to be able to shake off the snares. If they moved quickly, the flora couldn't encase them.

What catches Lloyd’s attention the most, however, is the massive beasts floating gently in the sky.

“What is that?” he breathes.

Wox glances back at him with a furrow in his brow, “...How long’ve you lot been here?” He squints.

“They’re Jellies.” Birdy starts before the Ninja can answer his question, “Named after Jellyfish on Ninjago. Can you see the resemblance?”

Kai doesn’t respond, studying the massive monster aimlessly drifting above them. It does look like a jellyfish, with long luminescent hanging bulbs on the ends of its tentacles to lure in prey. Its bell is a translucent white, and its arms- it makes Kai’s stomach turn. It looks as if someone had taken the guts out of someone and tossed a sheet on top. It’s dripping with a fluorescent pink liquid that nearly mimics blood.

“Never seen a jellyfish like that before.” Nya comments, looking away.

They pass through the pasture and reach the city limits.

Nya whistles low, “Wow.” She speaks what they’re all thinking as the town comes into view.

The main fixture in town is right smack dab in the center. A massive spire of stone spears the sky, the horizon a jagged line where brown and ruddy red split purple down the middle. It’s the size of two mansions stacked and three times as wide, with stone walkways dug out into the hard earth lining the outside and dark arches for doorways leading deeper inside the structure. It’s old enough to have been refined, with stone railings and decorative architectural choices thrown in. The lower parts of the hollow mound are covered in doorways and windows, things that grow more sparse the higher up the dirt climbs. Lights flicker through some of the doorways and windows, definite signs of life. The lower level spaces are taken up by shops and occasional homes- a blacksmith, several stalls selling strange looking foods and unnaturally colored breads, skeins of cloth and thread on display in another shop, and more.

In a massive sprawling collection of blankets piled with trinkets and essentials, the people of the Realm of Madness have set up shop just outside the largest entrance into the cave system. It’s a market with temporary vendors who are displaying all different kinds of wears- Filler fruit, strange colored gems, swathes of fabric that shimmers like silk but as thick as wool, and a thousand and one other things to poke and peruse. Several horses lounge next to pull carts, resting as their owners sell their goods. People are sitting or meandering through, the sounds of laughing and bartering and chatting flooding the air as they near.

Birdy slows to the point where he's next to Jay, “Take your watch off.” He says shortly, voice clipped and urgent, “It is painting a target on your back. Technology is few and far between, and it is incredibly valuable. It is the type of thing people here would kill over.”

Jay slides the watch off and tucks it into his backpack with a nervous nod.

Cole nearly jumps out of his skin when a trundling bag of bones materializes next to him.

“Hullo there might I interest you in some fine craftsmanship? Some excellent jewelry? All handmade, all natural, all materials ethically sourced! Fine jewelry, excellent craftsmanship!” He jangles along, the skulkins' skull bobbing and bouncing with each step as if his head wasn’t quite screwed on right.

“Is it really ethically sourced?” Kai asks skeptically.

“All handmade, all natural, and all definitely sourced.” The skulkin says with an enthusiastic nod.

With a flourish, he whips his draping black cape back, revealing the mutated bones underneath. Instead of legs and hips, he’s made up of several arms scuttling along beneath him, a few of them too small or deformed to offer any proper support with his steps. The arms lead into his spine which lead into an open rib cage, sternum split down the center and his ribs curled open and spread apart just perfectly enough to loop fancy looking necklaces and bangles and bracelets. The smaller lower ribs are studded with rings and the occasional set of earrings too, those same strange looking gemstones curled behind wire as added flair.

Cole's eyebrows raise, “Is that gold?”

“Is that gold- is that gold!? My dear boy it's something very SIMILAR to gold! Who cares to have boring old gold when you could have something completely unique and slightly worse? Very similar to gold indeed!” He drags his knuckles down his rib cage for emphasis, which sounds like a perfectly tuned xylophone scale. “My name is Tauto and every piece I offer is one of a kind! Excellent fine Craftsmanship! What can I wrap up for you? Maybe wrap up something for the ol’ lady?” If he had eyebrows, Tauto would be waggling them, glancing meaningfully at Nya who's walking by Cole's side.

Cole glances at Nya in surprise and she immediately turns away, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. He swallows his down painfully, “Uh, yeah, no thank you. Good luck on your endeavors.”

Cole doesn’t get the chance to finish his goodbye before Tauto has reequipped his cloak and is walking away, greeting a multi-headed snake who’s already picking out several pieces.

Birdy is walking in the center of them all, seemingly trying to keep a low profile in spite of how the market is growing considerably quieter, all eyes turning to the interlopers in their midst. Murmurs break out, people talking amongst themselves and a few of them getting up to trail the party, more invested in the interesting drama than guarding their meager shops.

“Butcher Bird’s back!” Someone cries, and the murmurs get louder.

“Welcome home!” Someone else shouts sarcastically.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, butcher!”

Similar jeers crop up, but surprisingly there's no real heat behind it.

“Butcher?” Kai whispers, turning hard eyes on Birdy.

“My mask was gifted to me by another realm of madness convict.” Birdy murmurs, “Many believe she would not have parted with it by choice.” The implication is, of course, that everyone here believes Birdy murdered and looted for his gear. Great. There was… something else there too, Lloyd was sure. Something Birdy wasn’t saying.

And interestingly enough, despite the jeers, no one dares approach. The shouts only come from indistinguishable spots in the crowd that grow silent when Birdy comes close enough. Those they pass lower their eyes.

Why?

Wox seems to walk slower so that everyone really has the chance to toss out a cruel jab before they step inside the cavern. It’s cooler inside, enough where Cole shivers in surprise. The hall is dark, torches studding the walls few and far between to the point where the midpoint between two is only three shades from pitch black. They pass by several off-shooting halls without pause, trudging through large atrium's and up sloping stone and stairs until the sounds of talking comes muffled down the hall. It feels like they’ve been walking for ages before finally rounding the last curve, walking into a massive cavern filled with people.

The room is lined with tables along the edges and one massive red wood table in the center that is bare of any occupants. The rest of the seats are nearly fully taken, warriors sharing stories, eating, or maintaining their weapons. Cups clink and blades on whetstone shhhk in the space between words.

All the tables are aligned in a way that leads the eye up to a raised dais where two people sit. Off to the corner tucked away with a little desk is a man with horn-rimmed glasses and a pristine white lab coat writing away in an ancient looking journal, completely unassuming.

In the very center is an ornate chair made of dark red wood with curling legs and an intricately carved back. Deep red upholstery cushions the chair, giving it a luxurious and plush appearance in stark contrast to everyone else's plain stools. Sitting in the chair is an older woman with salt and pepper black hair. She's wearing black boots and gray pants that sit high on her waist, her legs relaxed and spread wide as she lounges on the chair. She's wearing a red and gold bodice over a black turtleneck, slumped over bored enough to pillow her cheek on one hand and rest her elbow on the arm rest. In contrast to everyone else in the room- and in the realm at large- her clothes are perfectly maintained other than a few purposeful tears. No patch marks or obvious stitches from mending. Her long purple claws on her left hand poke at a dagger stuck in the arm of the chair idly, wigging it in the gouge she’d made just because she wanted to.

The most jarring thing about her isn’t her wild hair or the patches of purple-blue scales crawling up her left side, but the multitude of eyes that block out half her face. The right side is mostly normal, one blue eye and perfectly manicured brow. The left side, however, is marred with at least four different eyes all crowding into each other. The main eye is filled with several irises and pupils, all of them randomly expanding and contracting regardless of the light. Places where her sweater is torn reveals more eyes, suggesting that the entire left half of her body is broken up by her mutation.

She looks up as Wox and his party enter the room and her eyes light up at something to break the monotony- and then even more so when she realizes who’s at the center of it all.

“My my!” She drawls, sitting up properly in her chair, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She grins and it's all teeth.

Birdy inclines his head, “Samira.” he greets.

“Now with a tone like that I might think you’re mad at me. And what's with the voice? You have a cold or something?” She hums idly, sitting back and letting her eyes roam the newcomers. Cole suddenly feels like a bug under a magnifying glass, “What's the meaning of these visitors, Wox?” She asks bluntly.

Lloyd steps forward, “My name is Lloyd,” He begins, and Birdy- who wasn’t fast enough to stop him, places his hand on his forehead like he’s fighting a headache. Wox lets out an indignant chuff at Lloyd speaking over him, “And these are my friends Kai, Nya, Cole, and Jay.” he introduces, “We were just passing through.”

They were both in similar positions, him and Samira. Leaders. He just needed to talk to her on her level, to control the situation. He could get them out of this.

Samira looks at him for a long moment, “I’ve never seen you before. You’re new, aren’t you?” She looks relaxed, but her eyes are sharp, “Brand new.”

“We came here just a few days ago.”

Birdy jerks as if struck, but there’s no way to snatch that tidbit of information back from the air.

Samira tilts her head, her hair falling gracefully down her shoulder, “Interesting.” She says and doesn’t press for more, which makes Birdy relax a fraction, “You’ve never been here before, but your guide most certainly knows the rules. You cannot just ‘pass through’ Oasis, as I’m sure my patrol has informed you.”

Lloyd hesitates, glancing at Birdy.

Samira sighs and rests her elbows on the arms of her chair, “You must offer something as payment for access though my territory.” Her eyes flick over them, eyeing their empty hands and hopelessly flat bags, “I can assume you have not brought anything. That was very foolish of you, Birdy.” She steeples her fingers, “You know I am obligated to take care of trespassers.”

He steps forward, “You owe me.” He says simply.

The quiet chatter stops completely, a silence descending over the room that's so thick Lloyd feels like he can't move. Samira is stone still, but her eyes have widened a fraction where they’re trained on Birdy. The intensity in her eyes would make even the strongest men waver, but Birdy doesn’t look away. Or maybe he does. It’s kinda hard to tell with the mask.

“As I recall,” Each word is measured out in tense control, “I owe you one favor. Not five.”

Neither of them speak.

Lloyd notices Cole slowly and calmly reaches out and clamps a hand over Jay's mouth, just in case he tries to break the tense silence with another stellar joke.

Birdy raises his staff, bladed end pointing out. Half the room scrambles to their feet, but Samira holds up a hand and everyone freezes. Sweeping his staff backwards, Birdy holds it in front of the ninja like a protective shield. The staff ends up pressed against Lloyds stomach, firm and unwavering. Birdy is telling Samira in no uncertain terms that he will protect the Ninja from her and this makes the whole room break out into murmuring, a shockwave of commotion at the action. Birdys defense has weight to it. His presence and opinions is something these people take extremely seriously.

Lloyd follows the staff up to look at Birdy, staring at the smooth side of his mask. Who are you?

Samiras expression sparks with shock before a deep interest overtakes her face. She grins, leaning forward to really study them all. “I’ve been a poor host, haven't I?” She says, the strange tenseness of the room not fading but the energy changing somehow, “This is no way to welcome our newcomers to Oasis. Why don’t we discuss payment over dinner?”

All because Birdy threw his lot in with the Ninja? Instead of killing them, she was inviting them to dinner?

Wox looks flabbergasted, “Lady Samira-” He starts.

She stands, grabbing the back of her chair and dragging it down the dais stairs thunk after thunk, “Wox, would you have Elizal prepare a meal for my friends and I? And please, send someone to set the table.” Her chair legs screech as she hauls it across the stone floor, “The rest of you? Get out.”

Wox tightens his jaw but doesn’t object, nodding is assent.

Samira swings her chair around to settle at the head of the table as everyone else immediately rushes out, Cole huddling into the group as they’re suddenly surrounded by warriors beating a hasty retreat. In all of about thirty seconds the room is empty save Samira and the man still up on the dias writing in his notebook.

“Will you be joining us, Barath?” She speaks without looking at him.

“Shh,” He says, “You’ll make me lose my train of thought!”

She takes no offense at being shushed, turning her eyes on the ragtag group in front of her, “Sit.” She orders, “Please.” She adds.

Birdy moves first, sitting to Samiras right. The ninja, after exchanging a collective worried look, fill in the rest of the seats. The other seat next to Samira remains empty. As they sit, a woman carrying a large tray walks into the room. She sets the tray down and starts handing out silverware and handmade clay pots filled with the realms equivalent of water using the tentacles sprouting from her belly. She delivers Samiras by hand. Cole does his best not to stare because that's impolite.

“Thank you, Ila.” Birdy says quietly when the others are too nervous to remember their manners.

“Sweet as the day I met you,” Ila tuts, “This place ain’t changed you a bit.”

She brushes her hand along his shoulders as she passes, and then they’re alone again.

The table is made out of the same red wood as Samiras chair, and the seat they’re sitting on are too. They’re less fancy than hers is, but they also have a cushioned seat. A welcome reprieve to the stone and grass they’d been lounging on during their trip.

Birdy turns towards Samira, who hasn’t bothered looking at him, instead studying the gaggle of ninja seated at her table, “What do you have in mind for payment?”

She flaps her clawed hand dismissively, “Business can wait! I’d like to get to know the trespassers,” She says trespassers like a term of endearment. “How did you all wind up here?”

Birdy shifts his grip on his staff nervously and Cole picks up what he’s signaling out- they must be very careful with what information they piece out to her, “Well, it all started when my Mom met my Dad-” He begins.

“I mean the Realm of Madness.” Samira has no issue interrupting him, a spark of amusement in her eyes as she fights a smile.

“It’s nothing special,” Lloyd shrugs, “We were in a fight.” He studies the room surreptitiously, hoping to find more leverage, something he can use to turn this conversation in their favor. The room was frustratingly bare, and it was increasingly apparent that the people of the realm only cared about reputation- of which the ninja were severely lacking. And after Birdy's warning, Lloyd knew he couldn’t throw around his status as the green ninja to earn any respect. Samira smiles at him like he's a particularly curious piece of lint and nothing more. There is no equal ground for them to find, so Lloyd will keep his mouth shut.

“But it is special,” Steepling her hands together, Samira leans forward to examine them carefully, “You see, Banishment to the Dark Realm is an archaic Practice. You’re the only newcomers in nearly 30 years, barring Birdy.”

“I am sure that would be willing to explain their origin if you were to share yours first,” Birdy suggests. An attempt to stall, probably, pr a diversion.

Samira thinks on that before sitting back with a thoughtful humm, “Well, what is there to tell? My story is the same as most of the others here.”

“I was a seamstress first, before a warlord. My home was the Cloud Kingdom.” She starts.

Nya looks confused, “But I thought everyone in the Cloud Kingdom was a scribe?”

Samira gives her a patient look, “Where do you suppose the robes on a Scribes back come from? The food they eat? The very ink and paper they write with? These worlds are larger than you think, with a thousand and one moving parts, and I was a cog in the machine. I was happy, until I wasn't anymore. Then I burned it all to the ground.” She sighs and it's a put upon thing, “They didn’t like that, and bam- I was sent here. Simple as.”

Samira picks up her cup and sips from it, “There, is that enough of a rapport? Now tell me, what realm did you come from?”

“Ninjago.” Jay says helpfully.

Before anything else can be said, two people enter the room carrying several of the big trays from before. One of them is Ila again, who once more serves the food with her tentacles until her trays are empty. The man with her waits for her to be done so she can help him with his burden, doling out green bread and soup until the table is full. The ninja thank the two as they leave.

“What’s in this?” Kai asks, scooping up a bit of the viscous jelly before letting it plop right back in the bowl.

“It’s a favorite of mine.” Samira tears a piece of bread off her roll, “Filler fruit sliced and reduced in fizz fruit concentrate. It makes the broth savory and thick. Then the normal soup fixins: vegetales, tubers, and meat. Don’t ask what type.”

Cole takes a whiff of the soup and it smells vaguely like lavender. Whatever ingredients included seemed to cancel out each other's smell into this light floral scent.

There’s a lull in conversation as they eat. Barath doesn’t come down from the dais to eat, his bowl cooling on the table. Birdy picks up his spoon and they all expect him to do the same number he had before when he’d eaten in front of them, lifting his mask just enough to wedge his utensils under it without revealing his face.

Instead, to their great shock, he pulls his mask off to the side and angles it so the ninja can’t see his face, but Samira can. This doesn’t phase her at all.

“So she can see your face, but we can’t?” Kai comments with a pout.

“We are very close,” Samira explains, “We’re nearly best friends.”

“No we are not.” Birdy shuts that down immediately, “She has seen my face before- by circumstance not by choice.” He corrects.

“You wound me! And here I am, one of the only people in this realm who welcomes you.” She tuts, “You’ve made quite a choice in your guide so i must ask, why Butcher bird of all people?”

“He saved us from an ambush.” It’s Nya this time who chimes in.

Samira smiles at her with an unreadable expression, “How sweet of him.” She looks at Birdy's bare face, searching for something that he doesn’t give her. Her lips purse into a thin line. There's a moment where they eat in silence, “You say you're passing through. Where are you heading? It seems you have a destination in mind.”

There's an uncertain silence as they grapple with how to answer that.

“If you’re going somewhere specific, you’ll be on a tight schedule. The evershift waits for no one- so tell me, and I can ensure you end your journey on time.” She smiles pretty, and it's all teeth.

“There’s no rush.” Lloyd says stoically.

Samiras smile dims, and she seems to sense she won't get anything out of them on that topic. She pivots, “You’re from Ninjago, yes? Interesting. I had no idea they still practiced this type of punishment. What do you do to get sent here?”

“We told you earlier, we just got into a fight.” Kai reminds her, “Simple as.” He parrots with a grin.

Samira narrows her eyes at him, “So you all just stood still while your opponent brewed the travelers potion? I see my initial judgment of you as warriors was false.”

“Hey! We are warriors! We’re ninjas!” Jay defended, “She didn’t brew anything- she used a gauntlet!”

Samira, who’d been lounging back in her chair with a smirk on her face, sits up straight at that. Her eyes widen a pinch, “A gauntlet?” She clarifies, “Was it blue?”

Her sudden interest surprises even Birdy, who sets his spoon down to dedicate his full attention to the conversation.

“Er, yeah. Teal and dark blue with like, little metal claws-”

She barks out a laugh, “That gauntlet was supposed to have been destroyed! Do you know just how unlucky it is that you got blasted with it?” She pauses, “And how dangerous it is that it’s been found?”

The room grows tense, “What do you mean?”

“That gauntlet is a piece of The Armor of Utano.” Samira explains before her face pinches and she glares at the table, searching for a piece of information in her mind, “Oh what did they call it in Ninjago… something stupid…” She snaps her finger, “You should know it as a piece of the Allied Armor of Azul.”

“Azure.” Birdy corrects.

“Same thing.”

“I’ve never heard it called that.” Lloyd commented, “Even Uncle Wu has only called it the allied armor.”

Samiras eyes flash as if she's learned a particularly interesting fact, “It's quite the weapon... I could tell you more, but I’m afraid it won’t be free.”

Bird speaks up, “That won't be necessary. I know of the armor, and I will inform them.”

“Fine, be my guest.” She says sitting back, feigning nonchalance.

Birdy turns towards them and clears his throat, “How do I start… ummm… there was once- No, uh. A long time ago in Ninjago-”

“No! Shut up, you aren’t telling it right.” Samira immediately interjects irritably, “You know what? This is a Cloud Kingdom story. It should be a Cloud Kingdom native who tells it.”

Nodding, he inclines his head, “You’re right. Please, the floor is yours.”

One of Samiras eyes gives him a dirty look before she starts, “The first thing you need to know is that there are places in every realm where the Ethereal divide is thin enough to cross over, and the second thing you need to know is that every realm has its own artifact with the ability to easily cross the Realms of Creation. In Ninjago, that would be the Realm Crystal.”

Lloyd frowns, “But I thought the Realm Crystal was created by the First Spinjitzu Master to escape the first realm?”

“The First Spinjitzu Master found it in the First realm,” Samira corrects, “It was lost when the great serpent Wojiras' wrath tore open those thin spots between Ninjago and the divide. Much of Ninjagos history was scattered this way. In the Cloud Kingdom, our realm key was a ball of pure metal imbued with the essence of the other realms. Before time had a name, a man from the Cloud Kingdom fell in love with a man from Ninjago. He heard him singing through one of those thin spots in the realm, and they began to meet in secret. You see, It is forbidden for a cloud kingdom native to fraternize with any other realm inhabitant- as the writers of destiny, we were meant to stay completely impartial. He was breaking the most sacred law of our land.”

Samira picks up her cup and sips from it, “They only kept it secret for so long- they could not hide the pregnancy. Once they were discovered, The Grand Scribe ordered the dimensional portal sealed and forbade Daichi from returning- but he did return. With the Realm Sphere. The Cloud Kingdom could not stand for this and warriors were sent to retrieve him. He hid his husband and his daughter from the kingdom's eyes, left them the Realm Sphere, and was imprisoned until his death.

“His husband passed not long after Daichi was taken, and their daughter Utano was alone. The loss and hardship of her life poisoned her, and she took the realm sphere to a smith and had it forged into a powerful set of armor imbued with the powers of each realm of creation. Her helmet granted her future vision and she allowed it to inflate her ego. She gained money, power, and prestige. She amassed an army. She believed herself to be judge, jury, and executioner and called upon the powers of the 16 realms to become a revered warlord… In the end, she was defeated by the elemental masters of creation, and her armor was split apart and destroyed. Or, if your story is true, mostly destroyed.”

“Except the gauntlet that leads here?” Lloyd grin wryly.

“Apparently.” Samira hums. “This gauntlet not only opens portals to this place, but it has the ability to change its shape to whatever the wielder desires. Utano felled many men with this ability, by the blade of a sword, the flat of a hammer, or the claws of a dragon. Whatever enemy you have made was merciful in their decision to banish you rather than cut you to pieces.”

She gulps down the last of her soup and  surveys the room and sighs, “It seems dinner is over. I feel like I'm the only one who did the talking here.” She narrows her eyes at Birdy for a moment before looking back at the ninja, “As much as I’d love to pick you all apart, it’s time for the boring part- business.”

They grow tense, stiffening under her eyes as her expression changes from relaxed to closed off in an instant.

“Well?” Kai challenges when the silence goes on too long.

“One of you will stay and serve me, and the rest may go on.” She says instantly.

The ninja erupt into protests, “No way!” and “We can’t leave anyone behind!” filling the room.

“Okay, fine, keep Birdy.” Kai says with a frown, motioning at the man.

“He is ineligible for this particular offer.” Samira says apologetically, “It must be one of you color coded trespassers.”

“I understand your responsibilities as a leader, I really do, but that gauntlet is dangerous and I have a duty to the people of Ninjago to protect them. That is my responsibility. There has to be some other way.” Lloyd insists.

“None.” Samira says stiffly. “This is the way it must be. I have a reputation to uphold, and an expectation from those who I punished before you to maintain consistency-”

“Three funeral flowers.” Birdy announces into the air, staring at Samira. It’s an offer, and a serious one if her sudden silence is anything to go by.

“Do not interrupt me again,” She says quietly, “I’ll allow it this once because that is quite an offer, Butcher.”

“Three funeral flowers is more than enough to allow all of us safe passage through Oasis.” He seems unphased by her chastising him, “If we fail… you may kill us.”

“What?” Kai demands, jumping to his feet.

“There is no other way.” Birdy doesn’t look away from Samira.

She studies him just as hard, “I assume you’ll leave now?” he nods. She takes a tense moment to think, “I can’t allow you all to leave for this journey. I must have leverage to ensure you complete your part of the bargain… but you’re already planning on leaving alone.” another nod.

“You’re going to just leave us here?” Cole asks, surprised at how much that stings.

Birdy immediately turns to him, “I will come back.” He says firmly, hearing the betrayed hurt in Cole's words, “I will not abandon you.” And Cole finds he believes him.

“Anyone else, and I would be convinced they were lying. I’d be certain they’d never look back once they got off Oasis’s land… But I know you well enough to know you’re telling the truth. You’re a man of your word.” She leans forward and examines them all again, “And for some reason… These people are special to you.”

“They are good people.” Birdy says weakly.

“I accept your offer, but you aren't going alone.” She looks around the room for a heartbeat before pointing at Lloyd randomly, “Blondie will join you. The rest will stay here.”

“No way!” Kai sputters, affronted.

Reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Kais shoulder, Lloyd offers Kai a confident grin, “Kai, I’ll be fine. I mean, we’re just going to pick a few flowers, right? how dangerous could it be?”

Samira cringes, and she and Birdy share a look that means one thing. This wasn’t going to be as simple as a walk in a meadow.

What did we get ourselves into?

[aliceslantern]

Serendipity, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

ser·en·dip·i·ty | n -- the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery.

It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant.

Modern AU, Zemyx, Ienzo is afab trans

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo hated parties.

No; "hate" was a strong word. As an eternal introvert, parties took a lot from him, and required several days' of mental preparation. But it was not always avoidable.

And anyway, he did want to go to this party. It wasn't often a childhood friend got their own gallery show, after all. There would be art and wine and probably intellectual conversation--something as designed for Ienzo as possible other than the social interaction. He sighed. All Naminé had said about the dress code was to "wear black" and the only thing he had since his unfortunate rebellious goth phase was a slightly-too-tight turtleneck that made him acutely aware of the fact that he was not in shape.

There was no point caring about his appearance. Who did he have to impress? If he cared, he'd actually do something about the hair growing directly into his eyes.

Ienzo was early. The city streets were narrow, and he needed a parking space. He walked slowly to the door of the gallery, trying to gather himself and smile. Naminé was already inside, of course, talking to one of the curators and adjusting the tilt of the frame just slightly. A few people were milling about, picking at the crudités that had been left out. He should've been later. Easier to blend in.

Well. No point backing out now. Once she turned away from the curator, she spotted him and smiled. "You made it," she said. "I thought someone was going to have to drag you." She leaned in for a hug.

"Congratulations," he said earnestly. "I do hope everything is for sale? I'd love to support you."

She waved a hand vaguely. "I'm just so in shock, to be honest. First time I haven't had to pay to be featured anywhere, never mind possibly making a profit. It does look so odd, right? To think most of this lived behind my couch until yesterday afternoon."

"Well, it's very much deserved," he said honestly. "It's about time someone noticed your talent."

She blushed. "Do you want any wine? Any snacks? It's all offered by them, so don't be shy."

He sighed. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

By the time she'd walked him over, a handful of other people had entered the gallery, all of them wanting to congratulate the artist. Alone in her flowy white dress, she looked very much like a spec in the darkness. Pretty, free, glowing from the attention.

Ienzo spent a half hour or so wandering the gallery, with its exposed brick walls. It was nice, to have the excuse not to talk. She'd done a series based on portraiture and memory, something he forgot entirely until he was looking at a (thankfully small) charcoal sketch of his own face. Naminé had a bad habit of drawing anything not nailed down, and asking permission later.

"Hey, that's you!" a man said. Ienzo looked up.

He was blonde, his undercut gelled on the top. His black shirt was wrinkled and French-tucked. Ienzo knew this person was familiar, but wasn't sure how. Small town?

"Well--yes," he said. "I forgot I consented to sharing this."

The man reached up almost to touch the sketch. "She's talented, isn't she," he said, positively glowing with pride. "Oh! I'm not a creep, I'm her brother." A wry laugh. "Demyx. Hi." He offered his hand.

"...Ienzo. Pleasure." His hands were rough, callused.

"Oh, I know," he said breezily. Then, at Ienzo's blank look, "you're her friend. She talks about you."

"I'm sorry--all the years I've known her and she's never shown me a photo of you."

He laughed. "Our family is… weird," he said slowly. "It doesn't surprise me."

"...I see," Ienzo said. He wondered if it would be rude to go get more wine. "I suppose… every family has its quirks."

He nodded once. There was something in his teal eyes that contradicted the friendliness of his expression, something sharp and aware. Something that--to his chagrin--Ienzo found fascinating. But why?

"Are there any of you?" he asked lamely.

Demyx laughed again, that awkward, staccato sound. "Yes," he said. "It's--ah, over here." He rested a hand on Ienzo's shoulder and pointed him to another painting. Ienzo wouldn't have known it was a portrait unless he was told; blue green swirls and a flash of blonde showed an abstracted version of a person. "I almost drowned when she was little," he admitted. "I think she took it to heart."

"...I see." Ienzo looked over through his bangs at this man. He saw, very quickly when Demyx thought he wasn't looking, the man give him a once-over.

Ah.

He couldn't deny that he also found him attractive, despite the man being most definitely not his type (with that hair?). It was the look in his eye. The something more. "So what do you do?" Ienzo asked.

"Well, I'm also kind of an artist," he said. "A musician."

Figured. "...I see," he said politely. Well. No matter dwelling on a passing attraction.

"But for my day job I teach," he added, wrinkling his nose. "Music. At the college."

Ienzo's eyebrows shot up. (His heart fluttered.) "You're a professor ?"

Demyx snorted. "I don't look it, right? But I can prove it." He took out a beat-up wallet and brandished a faculty ID. "Read it and weep."

"You just look so--young," Ienzo said lamely.

Demyx shrugged. "It was sort of a happy accident," he admitted. "I was finishing my master's and the guy they hired to teach theory I and guitar crapped out. They offered me the job for a semester, and, well, I guess they liked me enough to stop looking." He grinned. "I tend to thrive under the radar. Want more wine?"

Ienzo's heart was racing. "Yes. Please."

---

They ended up talking for hours. Long enough for the gallery to close, for Naminé to waggle her eyebrows at him when she saw them sitting together. Long enough for Demyx to ask him to get another drink. Ienzo wasn't sure if it were his tipsiness, but this conversation didn't exhaust him the way previous dates so often did. It wasn't until the bartender was asking for last call did he realize how late it was--that, and he was in no shape to drive home. "Oh, goodness," he said. "I'm afraid I got carried away."

"Like how?"

"Like--I came out expecting to spend two very proper hours admiring my friend's art. Here we are."

Demyx smiled. "I don't know why she was hiding you," he said. "I've had… a lot of fun."

"Me too," he said earnestly.

"Would you want to go on an actual date sometime?"

He smiled. He was tired enough not to psych himself out. "Absolutely." He sighed. "Though I'm afraid I'm in no condition to take myself home."

"You could crash at mine," Demyx suggested. Then, seeing Ienzo's expression, "on the couch! Not what I meant at all." He chuckled. "Or I can call you an Uber."

"Is it far?"

"A couple of blocks. Think you can make it?"

"I'm not that drunk--just shouldn't drive."

He followed him out of the bar. It was very late, the moon hanging high in the sky, making everything quiet and silver. Demyx slid his hand into Ienzo's. He felt a little thrill, trying to recall the last time he'd enjoyed being touched so. His own attempts at dating hadn't exactly been fortuitous. Rarely did he ever meet anyone on an app that inspired real chemistry.

"I love this time of night," Ienzo said.

"Me too," Demyx said. "Nobody has expectations--the world is asleep. So calm. I come up with my best stuff at night. It's like I can breathe."

He bobbed his head. "I do sometimes have trouble with that. The annoying grind of mundanity. Easy to lose yourself."

"Yeah." He smiled sadly. "Well, here we are. Second floor."

It was a relatively new apartment building. The stairwell smelled like Pledge and dust. When Demyx unlocked the door, a small gray cat meowed indignantly.

“That’s just Janice,” Demyx said. “Come on. Be nice,” he added to the cat.

It sniffed Ienzo’s hand and nuzzled him. Blearily, Ienzo took in the apartment. It definitely seemed to belong to a bachelor--the furniture was plain and shabby, and the “couch” was a futon. The coffee table was a pair of milk crates with a board over it. There were some band posters on the wall. Thankfully the place seemed clean. It actually had good bones; the appliances seemed relatively new, the cabinets real wood.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” Demyx said. “Bathroom’s through there if you need. I might have a new toothbrush somewhere--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ienzo said. “I’d hate to trouble you. Really.”

He blinked wearily. “Alright. Hang tight.” He came back with two blankets and a pillow. “Wifi password’s on the router.”

“Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Of course. Hope you sleep well.”

Ienzo was too exhausted to do much more than curl up on the lumpy futon. His tipsiness was good to him, and he drifted off.

---

Ienzo woke up to gold sunlight coming in through the blinds. There was something warm by his feet; he sat up slowly and saw the cat curled at the foot of the futon.

So. This had all happened.

Ienzo rolled onto his back and watched the light play on the ceiling. It had been a long while since he’d had so much fun on a date. It felt almost… odd. He’d told himself he was too busy to date, too set in what he wanted. But honestly? If he had seen Demyx on one of his apps, he probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

He heard movement from the other room. The other man was still in pajamas, his hair mussed and loose around his face. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock--then again, I always do when I’m drunk.” He sighed. “Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Don’t mention it. Better than you trying to get yourself home. Though I have to admit, it’s rare Janice cuddles up to a guest.” He leaned over to pet the cat, giving Ienzo a peek of his (surprisingly toned?) chest under the collar of his T-shirt. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’d hate to be any trouble--”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Which is it?”

“Whichever you’re having, I guess.”

He was handed a mug of black coffee. “I never asked what you do,” Demyx said. “We talked about so much stuff other than our actual lives.”

“I’m a librarian,” he said. “I work mostly in the research department.”

“Do you like it?” He sat on the other end of the futon.

“I love books, and I love research,” he said honestly. “It’s the best of both of those things. Sure, sometimes I have to help certain… characters with questionable projects, but it’s worth it to have so many resources.”

He cocked his head. “What do you research?”

“What don’t I research?” Ienzo asked, with a sigh. “Whatever strikes my fancy at the moment, I suppose, but I have a soft spot for linguistics and psychology. And gothic literature, but as my father is fond of telling me, that won’t pay the bills.” He rolled his eyes. “The joys of capitalism.”

Demyx laughed. “Sounds like he’s fun at parties.”

Ienzo smiled. “Oh, incredibly,” he said sarcastically. “But he… means well. Very doting.”

“Are you two close?”

“Closer than we were when I was a child,” Ienzo admitted. “His husband came ready-made with a child, and that transition wasn’t necessarily easy.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. “You are… astoundingly easy to talk to.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here all week.” He looked into his mug, the glint in his eyes becoming sad. “I don’t remember my parents much,” he said.

“Naminé never brings them up.”

“They were… not so into childrearing,” he added, with a shrug. “Especially when I got older… there’d be food in the fridge, checks in the mail, but for the most part they sort of did their own thing. They call, once every few months, to see if we’re still alive, but that’s about it."

“So you were kind of on your own,” Ienzo said.

“Eh, I try not to get too hung up on it,” Demyx said. “No point, right?”

“I suppose not.” The coffee was strong, warming the pale shadow of his mild hangover.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the mug. “So about that date,” Demyx said. “The library’s closed on weekends, right? How about today?”

Ienzo felt his face warm. Normally he’d need more warning, more time to mentally prepare himself, and to groom. But something about Demyx’s nature made that not matter. “Sure. Why not?”

They spent most of a day wandering around town, grabbing meals when appropriate, talking. Walking around the park, talking. Ienzo didn’t know how many words he’d been holding inside until they were coming out. It felt so good to hold Demyx’s hand, or to feel it on the small of his back. Something about it was so familiar. So… comfortable.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. And it wasn’t love, not yet; but rather an intoxicating slurry of attraction and interest. Something that could… become. Perhaps this was why when Demyx asked him if he’d like to come up for “a cup of coffee” at the end of the day, he said yes.

And to be fair, there was coffee; they just didn’t drink much of it.

Ienzo found himself making out with him on that horrible lumpy futon. He wasn’t averse to casual sex, had done it multiple times, but typically when actually dating he didn’t immediately hop into bed with that person right out of the gate. With Demyx, he was absolutely breaking all of his own rules--seeing a creative, not making an extra effort with his appearance, not taking the time to fully process things before moving forward. But oddly, the rush of this made that all not matter.

Ienzo was sitting in his lap. He wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse, but Demyx was a very good kisser, especially compared to his last failed date. Ienzo’s mind stubbornly did not wander as it was normally wont to in these situations. Demyx’s hair was deceptively soft as he tangled his hands in it. Too soon, Demyx broke away. “This isn’t too fast for you, is it?” he asked breathlessly.

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I just… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this.”

“What, instead of taking your time seducing me?”

He giggled. “Well, kind of.”

“I don’t usually either,” Ienzo admitted, kissing his jaw, his throat. Demyx was pressing up against him, the strangeness of hardness against denim. Despite himself, he felt his heart skip, this time with an anxiety. They’d talked about so many things, but not so much about one of the most important. He took a breath; and broke another one of his rules. “I… have to tell you something.” He swallowed.

“What?” Demyx touched his face. “Are you a virgin or something?”

“No, but it… might change things?”

“You’re shaking,” Demyx said. “What is it?”

He hated that he constantly had to explain himself. “I’m… trans. Transgender?” He shut his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you want to cut things where they are.”

His expression was hard to read. “Oh.”

“I should’ve said something sooner.”

His hand was so warm through Ienzo’s shirt. “No. Thanks for telling me. It doesn’t change anything. I mean. It changes things, but it doesn’t change things. You know?”

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved. “Oh?”

Demyx blushed and bit his lip. “I’ve never been with… a person with those parts. I’d… kind of thought, when I didn’t feel anything between your legs… I just thought I was doing a bad job.” He laughed awkwardly.

“That’s not it at all. I have a… packer I wear, but sometimes I can’t be fussed, honestly.” He could feel his face burning. “But it isn’t… difficult, if you’d be comfortable with that.”

His hand was shaking a little; Ienzo could feel it. “I’d be willing to try.”

“I could… show you, if you like,” he said slowly, unable to make eye contact. “Some other time… or now, whichever.”

Demyx kissed him, and for a moment they were lost in each other before he broke away. “I could try now.”

His heart skipped again. “Okay.”

“Come on.”

Demyx led him deeper into the apartment. Ienzo could barely take in the details, a combination of nerves and excitement making him feel vaguely dizzy. He thought he could smell incense, clean laundry, instruments on stands, a record player. Most of his focus was on the queen-sized bed. When was the last time he felt such genuine lust during a hookup, instead of mere curiosity? It was almost unfamiliar, making him shake and quieting the ever-present noise inside of his head. Demyx kissed him again, deeply, his tongue flicking against Ienzo’s before reaching for the hem of his turtleneck. He took him in with something like reverence before leaning down to kiss his collarbone, sending a fizz through his body. Ienzo reached up to take off Demyx’s own shirt, only able to look at him for a moment before he was eased onto the bed.

His thoughts were muddy, murky, and yet he was so inside of his own body. He struggled to unbutton Demyx’s jeans and felt him working at Ienzo’s, slipping them off. The nerves returned, making him acutely aware of the dampness between his legs, the insistent throb of his clit. He wondered if he might combust, and if that would be so awful.

Demyx broke away from the kiss. “Can I see it?” he asked.

“Yes--just--”

Demyx helped him out of his underwear. He was infinitely glad he was meticulous with his own personal grooming. He had not honestly thought this day would end with him getting laid. It felt a little awkward, to part his legs. Demyx ran his hand along the inside of Ienzo’s thigh, making him shudder. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe this is the first one you’ve seen,” he said, attempting a drollness and a coolness he did not feel. “Not at all.”

“True, but… not in real life,” Demyx admitted. “But you’re so… god, you’re beautiful.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Really.” He leaned down to kiss him. Ienzo tried to take off Demyx’s own underwear, his dick already straining against them.

The skin of it was warm against his palm. At least Ienzo knew he was competent at this. Demyx moaned against his shoulder.

“Before you… really go at it,” he said, with difficulty. “First tell me how to--”

A blush made him hotter. “Right. Ah--” He’d never had to explain this to any of his partners. “There’s a… little nub, the--”

“The clit?”

Thank god he knew that much. “Yes, just… that’s the most important bit.”

“Can I… can I touch you?” His expression was so tender. There was no way this was all real, Ienzo thought. There had to be a catch.

“Yes.”

He felt Demyx’s callused hand slide down his body, bringing with it a rush. After a moment where he seemed to struggle to find the nerve, he eased his hand over it, almost making Ienzo spasm. Demyx felt at it for a moment before he found the clit. “This?”

He swallowed. “That’s it. The… testosterone makes it… like that.”

“As long as I can make you feel good.” He kissed him again and began to stroke it, rolling it between his fingers. The feel of the calluses made Ienzo gasp aloud. “Is that bad?”

“No, no, it’s…” He could barely speak. “It’s very good.” With a trembling hand he fumbled to find Demyx’s dick, trying to move in rhythm with him. Hearing him struggle for breath only turned Ienzo on more. He could already feel the sensation building along his body, hot and electric. “If you want, you could… you could go inside me.”

Demyx looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Just--do you have a condom?”

His breath hitched. “Sure. Of course.” He dug in a bedside drawer that Ienzo honestly hadn’t noticed. He could feel his knees shaking. “Do you need lube?”

How had Demyx not felt how wet he was? “No.” Ienzo took the packet from him and eased it over his dick.

He laughed. “You might have to help me.” He guided the tip of it into him with one hand and gasped, his eyes closing. “It’s different.”

“In a bad way?”

“No.” He pressed into him a little more. “God, no. That doesn’t hurt you?”

“Doesn’t require as much preparation,” Ienzo explained. He opened his legs a little more, letting them rest against Demyx’s hips, for a moment just taking in the feel of his dick. It was more substantial than the hands or toys he’d taken over the past few months.

Demyx moaned. “You feel so good.”

“I could… say the same. Just kind of… slow and deep.”

He started to move against Ienzo. His skin was tingling, the warmth and weight of Demyx’s body combined with the thrusting bringing him again closer to that edge. The grind of Demyx’s hips brushed against Ienzo’s clit, forcing a small noise from him. He felt as though he were losing control--another rule broken--but found, in the moment, he didn’t care. Ienzo tangled his hands in that blonde hair and kissed him, finding a rhythm with him, smooth and gentle, a steadily growing heat blocking out anything else.

“Maybe a little faster?” he asked in a voice that wasn’t quite his.

Demyx made another noise and obliged him, moving harder. Ienzo could feel every bit of it, his body getting so sensitive the more excited he got. “Fuck,” Demyx said to his shoulder. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, his chest. “I--”

He let himself get lost in his body, his trembling thighs, the little waves of feeling starting to break over him in earnest, building smoothly towards that finish. “I’m really--”

Demyx’s hand reached down into the tangle of their bodies to find his clit again, and it was this more than anything that forced him over the edge.

It overtook him so fully and completely that for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, a hot and demanding pleasure holding everything out at arm’s length. He couldn’t stop shaking. He could feel, on some level, Demyx thrust into him once or twice more before he seemed to finish too, his dick twitching a little inside of him.

Ienzo came back slowly, seeing the ceiling first, his hands trembling, his skin borderline raw. Demyx eased out of him, making him shudder, and threw away the condom. “Are you okay?” Ienzo heard.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m still--coming down.”

“...Me too.” Demyx settled next to him on the bed, breathing hard. “Do you cuddle?”

Another rule that would be broken. At this point why bother keeping track? “Yes.” If anything, the arms around his waist helped. “I’m not sure I believe that was your first time.”

He laughed. “What, because I paid attention to you for five seconds? What idiots have you been sleeping with?”

“...Idiots, indeed.” He found himself relaxing in this strange bed. He’d almost forgotten that sex with another person could be satisfying instead of mere physical upkeep. “I do believe that’s the best I’ve had for some time.”

Demyx brushed his cheek. “Fuck, me too. I just… where did you come from, Ienzo?”

“Here. Planet Earth.” He smiled. “Though I… haven’t experienced something so instant in a long while. Maybe ever.”

“Me either.” He kissed him, and for a moment Ienzo used that to ground himself. “I know it’s been… like, a day and a half. But I really like you.”

The smile was involuntary. “Maybe it’s against my better judgement… but I like you too.”

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 3

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Last Chapter

Notes (I guess): This chapter was a nightmare to write but I’m just so happy I finished it. It also touches some subjects that will come up again in the future, for the sake of letting everyone process the events. I’ve experienced grief and it’s going to take a long time before this particular subject could be discussed again. See yourselves warned.

Again, credit to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for screaming at me to write this, and to @whatwashernameagain for Keep Him Safe, and also a tiny tiny lil bit to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their general support and for being such great sports about me annoying them with my ideas… (oops).

(I’m trying to find a way to write my notes, so bear with me until I find a way that will stick. This will do for now.)

(KHS) Tag List (sort of): @em-be-lievable, @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @adoratato, @supremestoverlord, @royallyanxious, @madly-handsome, @hanramz-the-fander, @the-incedible-sulk, @poisonedapples, @virge-of-a-breakdown, @winglessnymph, @princeanxious, @smokeyrutilequartz, @im-bad-at-life (if any of you could tag the rest, please do! I’m improving my memory from day to day, but… yeah…)

Tag list: @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also includes discussion of two rather tragic (in my opinion) real-life events, and very few mentions of food.

—————

"Today, we're going to do things a bit differently."

Saturday, October 12th, 2002

"Raise your hand if the idea of coming out, even if you're already out, terrifies the living hell out of you."

Almost all hands flew up.

"Raise your hand if you understand the dangers of staying closeted too."

Pretty much everyone took their hands down. Only very few stayed.

"Last week," India said after a long breath, "we lost… the community lost one of our own. We… we lost someone to hate crime." She lowered her hand. Remy was almost in pain, seeing her try to talk about it. She called him last night, asking him if it's not going to be too much for him (and if so, she has another thing planned). "Gwen Araujo was seventeen when she died because she was outed as transgender in a party."

"Wasn't this released, like, two days ago?"

"Yes, and that's why I want to talk to you about this. Just… excuse me. I wrote it all down… it’s kind of a tough subject..."

It took India a minute to settle her voice, and another couple seconds to fumble with some papers. "I'll bet you all remember where you were when the World Trade Center fell in September eleventh last year." The room fell into silence. "I'll also bet none of you remember where you were on new year's eve in 1993."

Remy knew exactly where this was going.

"It could be because you were nine years old, which is the case for some of us, or you were already in bed by ten. I know my parents insisted that I'd go to bed by ten that night for a couple reasons. But on December thirty-first, 1993, we lost another member of the community. His story was turned into an Oscar-winning movie, but l can assure you none of you remember where you were when Brandon Teena was murdered for being born a girl."

The chatter was back. Remy could isolate some of the comments. Not most, just some. And it hurt. The ones he managed to isolate were not good, but one was much louder than the other.

"Can you really compare the murder of thousands to the death of just one person?"

"No I can't. But what you fail to realize here is that I'm not comparing anything here. I'm just trying to bring up a subject—"

"And you're using the tragedy of others to—"

"I lost family in September eleventh. I'm well aware of the tragedy. I'm also aware of the fact that transgender people are killed at ridiculous rates and this is something we should discuss!"

The silence after that was incredibly unbearable. India was close to tears, and Remy… as much as he wanted to go hug her, he couldn't.

It was that painful.

"Today's topic was supposed to be discrimination and hate," Remy heard someone shouting into the air - one of the juniors probably. "We do this conversation every year. Please listen to what the poor girl has to say. She's only volunteering to do this, on top of—"

"That's okay, Chris. I don't need an advocate."

It was going to be a long meeting, and Remy was not looking forward to it.

—

"I'm sorry I didn't speak today."

"You did alright. Sometimes doing nothing is a good thing."

India was incredibly frustrated when they finally got to Kirkland House. Remy insisted on going with her, to make sure that nothing else happened. She called him a gentleman for doing that.

It was sweet of her.

She ranted a bit about a guy who lived on the same floor as her (Jared Kushner or something) who was a dick to her and tried flirting with her girlfriend all the time, she told him that she applied to get a master's degree in forensics at Georgetown after graduation, and then they reached Kirkland House.

"You can get back to Harvard Yard from here, right?"

"Of course. Who do you think I am?"

India kissed his cheek and waved goodbye, and went into Kirkland House. And then Remy was alone. Well, not entirely, he still had to go back to Weld Hall and call his dad, but…

He was alone.

The yard wasn't as crowded as it was earlier and the weather was cooling down considerably, the leaves were changing… Harvard Yard was a beautiful place in the fall, Remy learned quickly enough.

He had very little time to process his thoughts when he was almost tackled to the ground by a tiny blonde kid almost running in the direction of the exit. Aka, the main road.

"How is it that when we're outside of class we keep running into each other in the weirdest ways?"

"That's less weird than how my grandparents met," Emile said, breathless.

"Not what I said, babe."

"No, really! My grandpa was coming back to Amsterdam from London just as my grandma was on her way to London straight out of Auschwitz, and—"

"Can we keep this story for another time?"

"...sure." Emile gave Remy a half-smile. "So… I kinda have to go to Party City. I need to stock up for Halloween."

"Didn't you go there two weeks ago?"

"Yes, but they didn't have this one thing I really needed, and I kinda forgot a couple other things, so they told me they'd call when they got that thing they didn't have, so I'm going to pick it up!" He was… incredibly jumpy today. It was rather endearing. "You wanna come? We can go get pizza."

"What thing are you missing, exactly?"

"A wig! I'm gonna be Kim Possible."

He was so excited… Remy started feeling bad for being this confused.

"...what?"

"Kim Possible! Don't you— you know what, it's okay if you don't know. It only came out in June anyway." The half-smile turned into a full, bright one. He was adorable. "So, you wanna come with me?"

...well, he had nothing better to do for now.

"Sure, sunshine. But I need to get my wallet and phone first."

"Yay! Anyway, so Kim Possible is this show, it's on the Disney Channel but trust me it's not that bad… "

—

Emile was growing on Remy more and more each day. And… he may have started getting interested in Kim Possible after going out for pizza with him. The never ending energy was growing on him in a way. It was impossible not to like his enthusiasm, and…

Yeah, he was starting to grow on Remy.

"So, now, lucky that I'm vegetarian, right?" Emile said as he took his third slice of pizza. "So at least I have some sort of excuse, at least according to my aunt, but we just keep having to explain to them what kosher means and—"

"Are we still talking about your sister, Emile?"

"What?"

"We were talking about your sister and then you started talking about… well…"

"Oh! Yeah, sorry!"

"Please stop apologizing. You're not doing anything wrong."

"Right. Umm… so… Doctor Gilliam suggested I might want to get evaluated at the psych clinic sometime soon," Emile mumbled, straightening his glasses. Slightly more closed off. Making Remy feel real guilty. "I don't… I don't know why, but he said I might want to."

"And you're just gonna take him up on that?"

"Yeah? No? I don't know. I'm only sixteen, honestly, I'm gonna have to talk to my parents about this."

Sixteen?!

"Yeah, I thought I told you!"

...shit. He spoke out loud. Shit.

"I'll be seventeen in December. But… never mind. Do you think I should listen to him? About the evaluation?"

"I have, like… no idea."

The way back to Cambridge was full of even more chatter about everything and nothing, and Remy couldn't put in a word. Not that it mattered anyway. Emile was interesting.

Remy gave his input whenever he could, but he would much rather listen to Emile talk. He had an adorable voice

—

"You didn't call me last week, kiddo. Found yourself a guy?"

"Dad, please…"

"Do you think you're going to take her up on that offer?"

"Dad, daddy, papa, David, any normal person when answering the phone would ask how are you doing. Not if you hooked up with a guy or if you're going to babysit your sisters who you've never met just because your bitch of a woman who birthed you asked you to."

"When have we ever done anything normal, Remy?"

"Well… true. But no, I'm not going to take her up on that offer. I don't really care, to be honest."

"They're your sisters."

"And so is India but you don't see me trying to—"

"You haven't told me much about her, kid."

"Well… she's not doing okay lately. Did you see the news? About that girl in California?"

"Edward Araujo?"

"Gwen."

"Right. Sorry. It's just… the news."

"It's okay. But… India is losing it over this case. And honestly… I get her. It's terrifying to see someone of your kin just…"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But really, did you hook up with anyone?"

"Nah. Dad, I'm eighteen. I'm not you."

"Hey, your mom got pregnant with you because of this one time when we were seniors when she had an empty house this one week in December and threw away my condoms when I tried to—"

"Dad, that's disgusting and please don't bring this up ever again."

"Got it. But anyway?"

"...there's a guy in my major, his name is Emile—"

"You gonna ask him out?"

"Dad, no! He's sixteen."

"And he's a psychology major?!"

"I asked myself the same question. But yes. He is."

"Well, I mean… he's within the appropriate age range for you. I guess."

"...what is it about I don't want a relationship at this stage of my life didn't you hear?"

"You're eighteen, Remy! One day you're gonna find someone and—"

"That's the thing. I'm eighteen. I have many more years ahead of me."

"Okay. Whatever you say. Any other boys I should know about? Girls, too, if you're into them now?"

"Just… this one guy. His name is Chris, he's a bit older… I don't know. Should I really be talking to you about this? You're my dad!"

"Am I not allowed to be interested in my son's love life anymore?"

"You weren't this interested in it when I was in high school."

A long sigh. "Remy…"

"I know you're worried, Dad. Believe me, I do. But I'm doing just fine! Rashida has dance parties every Wednesday for some reason so we bond over that, Lucy is basically just my map to going everywhere, we haven't hung out that much, Sammy is being a cutie all the time and Katherine is obsessed with everything. She really likes Emile's bunny for some reason and keeps talking about how her niece and nephew would absolutely love it. Her niece is two years old! I just…"

"Sounds to me like you're making friends."

"Well… yesterday I went with Emile to Party City. I don't know what I'm doing for Halloween this year, but…"

"What was that you just said?"

"If all goes right, I'll be Jack Skellington. But I don't have a backup."

"What would you need a backup for? You'll do great!"

"So, how's your girlfriend?"

"Eh, I don't know. Elaine isn't… that… you know."

"I'm sure she's absolutely lovely."

"Yeah, so was I. Can't wait for you to meet her."

"Can't wait either."

"...are you sure you don't want to babysit Linda's girls?"

"Dad!"

"Just asking!"