#or its a completely new self she created because she lost all traces of herself (parallels sora namine roxas ven and castle oblivion to kai

[embraceyourdestiny]

i feel like nomura not knowing what to do with kairi's character has a very meta explanation of kairi doesnt even know who she is and nomura lives / writes his characters so thoroughly that the quandary hes having is because shes having it too. we really live our characters when we're imaging their life and i myself have felt the total confusion, the heartbreak, the love, the fury, the betrayal, the anger of some characters as emotions completely separate from mine so it makes sense for him to be "stuck" / not utilizing her until now because he didnt know where she fit in because kairi didnt know her place in the universe either

[arewelonely]

got these as prompts some time ago and just finished with it now!

“Kiss me.” Jily, hogwarts sixth year, FLUFF “Come cuddle.” Jily, hogwarts seventh year, FLUFF

aaand oops this turned into Jily in their secluding period instead! enjoy James being the non-energetic one for once.

—

“How can you be so calm? You’re never chill like this.” Her brows furrowed and James couldn’t tell whether she would continue to berate him from this position or wrap her hands around his arms and yank until he sat up to meet her.

“The monotony has set in,” James responded. He closed his eyes again and flung one arm out of the blanket. It landed on Lily’s usual spot in the bed with a bounce. “Come cuddle.”

“Psh,” Lily scoffed.

James opened and closed his fist gently a few times, signaling for Lily to lay some part of her on it–her hand, perhaps, or a shoulder. The light was in its afternoon dull gleam. Not too bright that the behinds of his lids stained a reddish orange, but not so dark that he was instantly asleep. He could get there soon, though. This was what toddler afternoon naps were for, no? So the parents could sleep.

He could sense her brain working, her fidgeting shifts on the bed and the unsteady breathing. James opened an eye. “Hey, Lils.”

Her gaze clicked on to his face. She sighed deeply and leaned forward, her head smushing into the pillow and arms crossed in front of her chest, a tangle of limbs on top of James’ outstretched arm. He curled this arm, moving Lily in the process, rolling her so she did a complete turn and then ended up laying on his chest. The blanket sandwiched in between them, but her arms squirmed, hands splaying underneath his back, one leg curling under James’ butt. She dug her cold nose into his neck. A groan rumbled right by his ear.

“Mhm.”

“I want a punching bag.”

“What’s that?”

“A bag that you can punch.”

James snorted. “No shit. Muggle thing?”

Lily sighed. She lifted her head and bit lightly at his jaw. “Yeah, for, like, boxing, or just working out.” Her voice muffled into their entangled hair again. “I suppose you could charm the wall to soften slightly and it’d do the same thing.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Good for getting your aggression out.”

“Sirius could do with one.”

“I could, too.”

James squeezed his arms around her. He felt her chest expand and then deflate. “We could duel later.”

He grinned when Lily huffed out a laugh. “You and I, duel.”

“Yeah,” he blinked up at the ceiling, the edges of his mouth twitching. “Like at Hogwarts. Standard rule, until yield, in the basement.”

Lily poked her fingertips into his back. “Where’s Harry in this duel?”

“Still asleep.” James looked back down to the body flopped on top of him, the amber hair tangled under his chin. “Like I would be, could be, if I wasn’t preparing for your extraordinary–” He faltered. “Uh…”

James tangled his fingers in Lily’s hair and pressed her closely to him. She smelled like herself. He would have prayed that she didn’t know the word he was about to use, but she squeezed him back and all hope was lost.

“It’s hard to relax,” Lily whispered, ever insightful.

“It’s challenging to joke.”

“You’re usually so good at it, too.”

James smiled painfully. “I do try.”

The weight on top of him began to move and he loosened his grip. Lily propped her head up in her hand, green eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“Just looking.”

James, from his sleepy stupor, offered up a smirk.

“Alright,” Lily sighed. She quirked up the side of her mouth. “You remember in the beginning–”

James raised an eyebrow, “like back when the world was created?”

“No, prick,” Lily flicked the side of his face gently, “like back in sixth year, when this all was new and we stumbled around each other?”

James inhaled and curled his fingers under his wife’s shirt. Her skin warmed his hand. “I was still a bit of a prat then.”

Lily smiled. “You are still a prat. I just called you a prick.”

“But you love me now.”

Lily pressed her hand to his jaw. “I loved you then.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

James’ heart beat and he bit his lip. He could tell he wasn’t doing a good job keeping the smile back because of the one Lily returned–her eyes always turned up at the edges when she was particularly pleased with herself.

“And, you had grown up a bit,” Lily continued, “hence why we dated.”

“Dated?” James frowned at the past tense.

“Potter, we’re married now.”

“I’m always going to be dating you,” James insisted.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“When this shit is over–Lily, when this shit is over, I’m going to take you out on a date. Okay?” He rubbed the small of her back as her eye twitched. “That is, if you’ll go out with me.”

He felt when her breath released. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, alright. I’ll go out with you.”

James chuckled, bouncing her a bit with his movement. “You sound like you did then.”

Lily fought against her smile. “Exasperated and hiding my amusement?”

“At least you’re self aware.”

“But of course. Anyway. Back then, all the little things…” Lily ran her hand across his jaw, tangled her fingers in his hair, smoothed the other one down his chest. Her nose twitched when he inhaled. “I loved that. Love that. Even years later, you…” she gave him a small beam.

He blinked. “You bring me happiness.”

She grinned. “You’re sweet.”

He laughed. “Impressive, since you’re taking my naptime away. We have a kid now, y’know? He’s exhausting.”

“He’s sweet.”

“He is.” James watched Lily’s face soften at the thought of their son, and he raised his eyebrows as gently as he could. “At the risk of ruining all this,” he ran his fingers up and down her now less-tense back, “do you want to talk?”

Lily bent to rest her cheek on his chest, and James felt immense warmth rise there. This was an awful time, a shit time, but their baby napped in the other room and Lily cuddled against him even though–“there’s nothing we can do. How on Earth are you content just napping?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” James agreed. “So I’m happy just napping with you.”

“Potter,” she mumbled, exasperated.

James smirked. “Potter,” he retorted. “No, but seriously–”

“Siriusly–”

“Oi, hush–”

“Don’t tell your wife to hush–”

James groaned up at the ceiling and grinned when Lily started shaking with laughter. He made a noise like he was mustering all his patience, but truly he could only be gleeful with his wife cracking herself up on top of him.

He waited for her to settle and then traced designs against her back. “I would rather attend Order meetings with you and set Harry up with the playpen in the corner. I’d rather work all night with you and the boys and everyone and come up with a plan. But…���

Lily propped her chin up. She smiled and pressed a kiss to James’ jaw. Her eyes shone faintly when she picked her head back up.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, and James was already cupping her cheek and bringing her parted lips to his.

They traded small brushes back and forth, James breaking away to roll over, lay on top of her, and kiss down the side of her cheek. Lily wrapped her palm around his neck with more skin now available. He was warm all over, everywhere Lily touched bringing him tingles, and with a burst of kisses under her jaw, James leaned back to undo their blanket sandwich. He pulled the covers up and fully around them, cocooning them in cozy warmth.

He raised his eyebrows and plopped a soft kiss on her nose. “Nap now?”

Lily huffed out a laugh. “Need the beauty sleep?”

“Good sir,” James drawled, nestling his head under Lily’s chin and resuming his figure-eights on her sides, “our baby is an active young human.”

A snort. “Ma’am, this should not have come as a surprise to you in the slightest. Have you met yourself?”

“I’m asking for a nap currently. I’m a changed man.”

“We love growth. Do not make a dirty joke, James.”

James pouted, although Lily surely couldn’t see it. His eyelids dropped shut. “Let me sleep.”

“What do you think we’ll be like as old people?”

James hummed. “I think we’ll be adorable. We’ll take walks and happily bicker and play cards with the boys. And we’ll have a lovely cat–unfortunately, not Algernon because, sadly, he is not immortal, but a lovely cat all the same and, Lily, guess what? We’ll be able to take naps all the time.”

And Lily laughed and James let the happiness and peace blossom in his chest, the warmth around him lulling him, at last, into a soft sleep.

[nxrthmizu]

| the detective and the blue-eyed fox | ch.5

»»——⍟——««

title | all her fault 

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng 

warnings | mentions of death, death, but nothing explicitly described

words | 3.1k 

author’s note | im emotionally invested in this series, i have ch.6 and ch.7 planned out too :3 prepare yourself for more twists and (maybe) a major death :))) also this wasn’t proof-read,,, lmk if there are any mistakes! enjoy :3 

»»——⍟——««

| beginning | previous part | ao3 | 

»»——⍟——«« 

Three walls of cement and one wall of two-inch glass. Gabriel Agreste faced the four blank slates of his confinement everyday for three months, pondering on how he was going to endure the remaining of his days in his dreary ‘home’. They wouldn’t even provide him with paper to create some sketches on- (What were they afraid of? Paper butterflies? He was powerless without his miraculous). 

“So, what business do we have today, Ms. Rossi?” He asked smoothly, business-like as ever despite not being able to remember the last time he had a conversation. Three months of complete isolation- The guards wouldn’t even spare him a single word, and to be fair, he couldn’t blame them. 

“Did you hear about Adrien?” 

Being straightforward when she wanted to be was one of Lila’s strong traits. Her words were driven to the point, cleared from the lies that typically shrouded them. A borderline sadistic smile traced her vermilion lips when a spark of curiosity glimmered in the man’s eyes- Oh, she was going to enjoy being the bearer of the staggering news. 

“What about Adrien?” She could tell- He was expecting something perhaps along the lines of his son screwing up the company he inherited, or perhaps his son making a public statement about- 

“He’s dead.” 

Gabriel froze from where he was seated on the cement block they provided him with, red draining from his already-pale skin and his bloodshot eyes. “What?” His voice was but a hoarse whisper, a denial, a beg, a plea for the woman to laugh and tell him that it was all some cruel joke. 

“He was murdered.” Oh, how she enjoyed seeing the anguish dawn into his eyes. The pain seeped into his body like a parasite, leeching away any will of survival the man had left. “Two weeks ago.” 

If getting stripped of his miraculous and being arrested was the sky crashing upon the world he tried so hard to bring his wife back into, then the revelation of his son’s death would be the universe collapsing into itself, becoming a black hole that self destructed from the very core of Gabriel Agreste’s heart. 

“Felix Graham de Vanily is combining the Agreste and the Vanily companies with a horizontal merger,” Lila continued, enjoying the acidic pain that burned through the heartless man’s soul. “Oh, and did I tell you? From the day Adrien died, Chat Noir stopped patrolling the city.” 

The rush of ‘What if he was murdered because I was Hawkmoth?’ and ‘There are no more Agrestes left...’ smashed into him like water reaching the bottom of the waterfall. There was no mercy behind the strong wave of despair; no mercy behind Lila Rossi’s cold eyes and satisfied smile; no mercy that the world had left for him as a punishment for all his crimes. 

“I think I might know who killed him, but I need you to be honest with me,” Lila said softly, enjoying the view of the man’s bowed head. The swollen red of his teary eyes made something inside her heart stir, and it wasn’t sympathy. No, not at all. Her heart swelled with a triumphant laugh, a satisfaction that can only be achieved through the means of revenge. “What happened to the peacock miraculous?” 

»»——⍟——«« 

[Paris, three months ago] 

In the midst of destruction you could easily find pain, agony, and despair, because wherever you looked, there was someone who had no time to mourn, but still mourned nonetheless. Ladybug had lost count of how many Paris lost after the hundredth- And the count was only increasing exponentially by every passing second. The former city of love was doing its’ best impression of a society undergoing an apocalypse- In fact, it was a society undergoing an apocalypse. 

Exhaustion clawed at Paris’s heroine like a monster that wanted to be released from its’ cage. It tore at her without pause, releasing soreness into her muscles and weariness into her mentality. How much longer did she had to fight? How much longer until she couldn’t go on anymore? How much longer until Paris would fall into the hands of the man who could only focus on what he wanted? 

And what would happen to Paris if she couldn’t stand any longer to defend it? 

Smoke painted every inch and corner of the skyline in an abstract painting, which would’ve been beautiful if it wasn’t because of the direness of the situation. The clouds were stained a dirty red and firetrucks wailed in the distance, too little of them to keep up with the demand of damage control. Screams echoed across the city, a painful reminder to the heroine of how many lives she had let down. Nothing pained the heroine more than the fact she had been trusted with so many and ended up failing just as many.

A little distance away, shrouded under the same red sky that Ladybug stood under, was the Le Grand Paris. A section of the grand hotel had caved in, leaving the top half of the building in ruins. The golden embellishments of the hotel were caked in dust, the grandeur of Paris’s greatest hotel submitting to the chaos and destruction around it. 

“Come on! Get in here! Hurry up!” 

Chloe couldn’t believe her eyes. 

There stood Mayor Bourgeois, urgently yelling out orders for as many people as possible to get into the hotel’s wine cellar, which would be underground and as safe as it got at the moment. The endless stream of Parisians flowed continuously through the open doors of the hotel, the hotel’s large wine cellar being able to accommodate about half of Paris’s (surviving) population. 

For once in her life, Chloe was proud to call the mayor her father. 

“Daddy! I’ll go get more people here!” She yelled over the bustling noise. Worry clumped over the mayor and butler Jean’s eyes, but her father nodded nonetheless, a smile slipping over his lips. 

“Be careful, my dear!” 

On the other side of Paris, Alya was holding onto her younger siblings as tightly as she could, all four of them hidden under the dining table. A loud ring startled all of them, the second-oldest Cesaire turning her attention to her phone. Earthquake-like vibrations made multiple household objects topple and smash onto the floor, much to the twins’ terror. 

“Chloe?” She breathed, picking up the call. 

The voice that came in response was panting, taking hurried, shuddering breaths. The consistent thump-thump-thump of footsteps also echoed through the phone, accompanied by the distance rings of destruction. “Where are you? Get your family towards Le Grand Paris, you can hide in the wine cellar!” 

Alya couldn’t believe the blonde’s words. 

“And if you’re up to it, spread the word! The wine cellar is the safest place we have right now.” 

The call ended, Alya blinking back her surprise in exchange of a courage that surged forward all of a sudden. “Nora, take Ella and Etta to Le Grand Paris and hide in the wine cellar.” 

“And where are you going?” 

Alya steeled her jittering nerves. “I’m going to get out there and help.”

Not too far away from the Cesaire’s apartment, Ladybug was swinging through the city, surveying the damage. The whizz of her yoyo felt deafening to her ears, and everything hurt. Her muscles were sore, her legs were shaking, and her vision felt blurry. Half of Paris was a rubble of cement and dust, and the other half was on the verge of collapsing soon. 

Ladybug’s eyes widened in horror as she jerked back, catching sight of a familiar building that was so burdened with destruction that she could barely recognise it if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew she was on the right street. 

“No. No, no, no. Nononono-” Her breath caught in her throat, suffocating and strangling her from inside. 

The bakery had collapsed. 

She prayed with all her heart that her parents had gotten out, but from the looks of it, the bakery was hit fast and the chances that- 

No. 

“Think positive thoughts, Marinette.” The heroine whispered to herself, desperate and unwilling to face what she was sure was the truth. “Maybe they got out. Maybe they got out. They’re fine.” 

Even as she swung off, Ladybug knew in her heart that despite the lies she insisted on telling herself, her parents’ dead bodies were somewhere underneath the rubble. 

»»——⍟——«« 

“Mamma!” Tears streamed down Lila’s face as she tugged and pulled at the portion of their ceiling that had chosen the diplomat as its’ victim. There was no use- Both of them knew as well as 1 + 1 that there was no way Lila could lift the concrete block by herself. 

The diplomat looked up with a weak smile, already having come to terms with how her life would end- With her lower half crushed by a ceiling. “Leave me here, dear, the building’s going to-” 

Lila shook her head stubbornly, desperately trying to lift the concrete again, only to look up in surprise, not having expected a pair of spandexed hands to join hers. Ladybug let out a grunt as she tried to nudge the collapsed ceiling even just a little, her suit tearing due to the rough surface of the collapsed ceiling. 

“Come on, we’ll push at the count of three!” The hero instructed, groaning and giving all her strength to the giant piece of debris, but it was no use. Ladybug was tired and worn out, and the little strength she had in her was not enough to overcome the concrete’s stubbornness to stay put. “I... I could...” She flung out her yoyo, trying to think of a way to use the concrete’s weight against itself. 

“Ladybug, the building is collapsing, please just leave me be.” The diplomat pleaded. “Lila, please get out of here!” 

The building groaned, supporting the woman’s statement. Ladybug bowed apologetically, guilt lurking in every corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance, ma’am.” 

“You’ve done a lot for Paris. I should thank you.” The woman whispered, smiling painfully at her daughter. “I’m sorry, Lila. I love you, forever.” 

The girl sniffled, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I love you too, mamma.” 

“Come on, Lila.” Ladybug whispered gently, pulling the teen away. It was as heart-wrenching as abandoning a puppy on the side of the road on a rainy day, but the diplomat was right- The building was giving in, and if they didn’t get out themselves, Paris’s death count would only increase by another two. 

The escape from the building was quiet, only filled by the whizz of the yoyo. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more.” Ladybug said softly. 

“It’s not your fault.” Lila sniffled bitterly. Now that they were soaring over the city, Lila could see just how much of it was crumbled and broken- At least 70% of the city was reduced to rubbles, and the Eiffel tower, who had once stood tall at the core of Paris, had now bowed down to the wrath of the man who knew nothing but his own wants. 

It was at that moment that Lila Rossi decided that the person she hated the most was Hawkmoth.  

»»——⍟——«« 

You never know the true meaning of horror until you live that one moment that crushes you inside. 

It freezes your blood, it makes your heart stop, and your chest feels like its’ being constricted. You can’t breath, and your field of vision just narrows to the one point that defines the cause of all your pain. Sometimes, you don’t even know what you feel. All emotion has been drained out of you, and your brain has lagged behind, unsure of how to react. 

Chloe stood in front of Le Grand Paris- The remains of it, anyway, and came to the conclusion that her father saved at least a thousand lives that day. All by putting aside his own safety and shepherding millions of his citizens into the wine cellar. 

It was over. 

It took hours for the firefighters to dig out the entrance to the wine cellar, millions and thousands of relieved Parisians crawling from the hole. The daughter of the mayor sat and waited, helping wherever she could. There were too many tears shed, too much blood bled, and too many people dead. 

She watched the line of Parisians trickle from what was formerly Le Grand Paris’s wine cellar. She waited and waited until the sun finally had mercy on Paris and ended the day that would be marked as the end of the city of love. She prayed and hoped until she saw the last man crawl from the cellar. 

And then she faced the truth that neither her father nor butler Jean made it into the wine cellar themselves. 

»»——⍟——«« 

Adjusting to the bright light shining around her was difficult, to say the least. Paris had been shrouded in semi-darkness for the past twenty-four hours. 

Marinette sat up hurriedly, groaning at the piercing pain that shot thorugh her spine at the action. All around her were her friends’ worried faces, Alya’s, Adrien’s, Nino’s, Chloe’s- Were those tears on Chloe’s cheeks? And was that Lila comforting her?

“Alya found you passed out in the middle of the street after it ended.” Nino explained quickly. 

Ah, that was what they were calling it now, Marinette thought. The battle she had fought for over fifteen hours without pause was now labelled ‘It’. 

“What were you doing out there, you could’ve died!” Alya scolded, but despite the tone, the teen was more glad than anything to see that the bluenette had made it. 

“Where... Are we? And why is everything so... Destroyed?” 

The classmates shared looks that practically spelt ‘Who’s going to break it to her?’. 

“Ladybug disappeared after the battle was won. She never got to use her miraculous cure.” Chloe supplied the explanation coldly. “Thousands are dead. Almost every building needs to be rebuilt.” 

Adrien offered her a weak smile that was on the verge of breaking. “Hawkmoth is gone for good.” There was a faint suggestion in the boy’s eyes that he was going through much more pain than any of them knew. “Hawkmoth... My father. My father was Hawkmoth. He was arrested a couple hours ago. Nathalie was Mayura.” 

Silence shrouded the teens like a  black rain cloud. “I’m sorry, Adrien.” Marinette whispered. It was coming back to her now- Chat Noir’s anguished screams when they discovered Gabriel Agreste, decked out in his purple suit, standing in the attic of Agreste Manor, Mayura’s escape- Feeling like she couldn’t go any further. The last thing she remembered was her transformation dropping, and contact with the cold hard ground. 

“Don’t be.” Lila responded nonchalantly. “I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that this whole shit was Hawkmoth’s fault and no one else’s. Almost everyone has lost a family member. Some of us lost more than others. It’s no one’s fault, so don’t you go apologising, Dupain-Cheng.” 

Her friends murmured their agreements, giving her soft smiles despite the devastation that tore at each of their hearts. 

Marinette wanted to laugh. 

Thousands dead and it was because she couldn’t hold on for two more seconds to use her miraculous cure. 

Thousands dead, including her own parents, Lila’s, and god knows how many others’ parents, siblings, lovers, and friends. 

Thousands dead and it was all. Her. Fault. 

»»——⍟——«« 

“Well?” 

Impatience decorated Lila’s tone as she tapped her heels, waiting for the terrorist’s answer. The click of her heels echoed through the room, bouncing off the concrete walls to create the loudest noise Gabriel had ever heard in a long time. 

“What happened to the peacock miraculous?” She repeated one more time for good measure, irked and irritated by the lack of answer from the other side of the glass. 

“It’s gone.” Gabriel answered softly after a while. “When they found Nathalie passed out in that alley, she didn’t have her miraculous on.” The man’s former assistant had fled after Ladybug and Chat Noir confronted them in the Agreste Manor, but two hours later, she was found unconscious in a back alley, and it was later discovered in the hospital that she had fallen into a coma. 

Bewilderment lit inside the woman’s eyes, burning beside the fury that blazed inside her soul. “Are you telling me someone stole them?” She hissed, resisting the urge to slam her hands on something. 

“No.” Gabriel answered reluctantly, slightly afraid of the woman’s fury. If it was any consolation, he knew the two-inch glass wall would prevent her from inflicting any harm onto him. “I’m telling you that Duusu probably ran off with her own miraculous.” 

The woman sucked in a deep breath, regulating her breathing to regain her composure. “Then do you have any idea where she went?” 

“Duusu is corrupted and manipulative, but she’ll need a host to operate through. She’d probably look for someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain.” Gabriel sighed, looking up to be met by Lila’s annoyed expression. 

“Oh wow.” Said the woman sarcastically, hands propped on her hips in a pretentious, thoughtful manner. “Someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain. That just about defines everyone that survived the apocalypse you laid on us three months ago.” 

It was at that moment Lila’s sarcastic attitude brought Gabriel to a terrifying conclusion. There was no amount of sympathy in her eyes, and judging from the hate and loath in her eyes... The revelation splashed him like a cold bucket of ice water, waking him up from the small smudge of hope he got to hold for a couple of seconds. 

“You aren’t here to get me out.” He whispered. Just when he thought that the sly woman was going to get him out of the four walls he was trapped in- She slammed her true intentions back into his face with no mercy. 

“You killed my mother, you bastard.” She smiled so sweetly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she was instantly cast as the beautiful but wicked stepmother from Snow White or perhaps the enchantress from Sleeping Beauty. “As well as the friends and family of thousand others. I hope you rot in jail forever.” 

»»——⍟——«�� 

If anyone’s confused on the timeline of the story, this is how it goes: 

3 months before current time, the final battle takes place (ch.5). Thousands die because Ladybug didn’t get to use her miraculous cure. Hawkmoth is arrested and Nathalie falls into a coma. Ladybug/Marinette leave Paris after the battle is over.

Ladybug/Marinette heads to Gotham, where Marinette gets hired into GCPD and becomes partners with Damian. She also becomes Gotham’s newest vigilante, Lan, who exposes corrupt politicians 

2 weeks before current time, Adrien Agreste is murdered and Chat Noir stops patrolling Paris. (This is when Marinette learns from Tikki that Adrien and Chat are the same person even though the conversation wasn’t written) 

Current time (ch.1) Lan asks Damian to help her find the miraculous of the black cat 

Damian, the next day, finds out that Plagg and the black cat miraculous have been in his apartment the whole time (He then emails her and asks her to go to his apartment to discuss things) 

(ch.4) Damian and Marinette talk 

At the same time, in Paris, Luka visits Chloe, who is apparently in kahoots with him 

Also at the same time, Lila breaks into the highest security prison in Paris and talks to Gabriel Agreste/Hawkmoth (also partly ch.5) 

That’s about it for now :3 

taglist. @demonicbusiness @animegirlweeb @roselynfey @2confused-2doanything @insane-fangirl-of-everything @promiswords @galaxylightmoon @fusser90 @ira-sairain @liquid-luck-00 @glastwime859

gen. daminette taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @missmadwoman

»»——⍟——«« 

| next part | ao3 | 

»»——⍟——«« 

[aconstellationofmemories]

Of Nightmares and Promises Chapter 2: Gray

Note: This oneshot in Gray's POV, a follow-up to Juvia's oneshot, unexpectedly took me 7 months to complete. More than half of the draft had already been written; I could have posted it earlier with some addition; but I felt that it lacked something. Or perhaps I was afraid, since I was still a new writer back then. In any case, I'm satisfied that my writing has improved tremendously since.

Dedicated to @allie-and-her-fandoms, who was a major source of motivation to write this continuation. Here's a surprise for you girl. I hope I didn't disappoint you.

Next one in this collection of oneshots will probably be Laxus'. Expect some angsty Miraxus coming up!

Word count: 1.5k.

Read this on AO3.

Chapter 1: Juvia

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

Quiet sobs.

The steady beat of the rain tumbling onto the pavement. 

Soft whimpers.

The sorrowful symphony slowly filtered into Gray’s sleep-fogged brain and roused him from his slumber. What’s happening? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his puzzled gaze instantly landed on the sparkling droplets of water on the window. They slid down helplessly despite the slight friction between their liquid body and the glass panel, leaving behind only disjointed parts of their body in their slippery descent.

It’s raining, he thought sleepily. There was a nagging familiarity about the natural event, almost as though it was teasing him to guess its hidden meaning. However, at such a godforsaken hour, he had neither the mood nor the mental capacity for such trivia games. If the heavens wished to weep and cause a phenomenon known as rainfall upon earth, then they could weep all they wanted. He wasn’t going to give up his precious sleep to spend the night contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Closing his eyes, he turned to lay on his side as he tried to resume his disrupted sleep.

Then it dawned on him.

It was soft, almost inaudible even, but he was almost certain his ears weren’t playing with him – there was a muffled sound of someone crying.

Wait. Rain...

Juvia.

The realisation jolted him awake – any trace of sleepiness now completely gone – and he hurriedly glanced over to the other side of the bed. In a subconscious gesture to either comfort or protect herself, the water mage lied curled on her side in a fetal position. Her face twisted in anguish. “Gray-sama...” his name fell upon her lips in between her strained sobs.

He gently nudged her. “Oi, Juvia.” No use – she showed no signs of waking.

“Juvia tried but she failed,” she whispered, pain lacing each word.

His heart constricted in his chest to see her in this broken state. She was the one experiencing the nightmare, but it hurt him to witness it.

“Wake up and it’ll be fine,” he urged her.

“Juvia is so sorry...”

What was she dreaming to feel sorry for? 

Gray pushed aside the stray locks from her forehead – her skin was wet. It was that moment that he noticed she was sweating profusely. Whatever she was dreaming about, it must be intense to invoke such strong reactions from her. Tears silently rolled down her porcelain cheeks. Despite his attempts to pull her from her nightmare, she was lost to him in a torturous realm – one he was all too familiar with.

“Wake up, Juvia,” he pleaded her. It was killing him slowly to see her tormented and being powerless to do a thing. 

The ice mage prided himself in having a cold, impenetrable heart. Much like his ice creations, it was solid and incredibly resistant to outside influences. Her cries, however, felt as though someone placed a nail on his heart and pounded mercilessly to create fractures. With each broken call for him, the fractures cracked open.

Just like how Juvia once told him that he kept the rain away, he yearned to prevent her liquid sadness from flowing down her face – now and for as long as he can.

Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in and placed his lips on her tear-stained cheeks. 

Drip.

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trailed down.

“Gray-sama.”

Kiss.

His lips caught the elusive tear before it could drop.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Drip.

No matter how many times she fell apart, he would always be there to catch her.

Kiss.

Down to the last teardrop, he erased their existence with each gentle kiss.

Pulling back, his concerned gaze scanned her face for any signs of distress. To his relief, her features seemed to relax. The iron vise around his heart loosened its grip. His chest immediately felt lighter. 

For the first time since he woke up, he could take a breath without feeling strangled.

Lying back down on the bed, he angled his head to watch her. The warm glow of the streetlamps cast a soft spotlight upon her, highlighting her angelic features. Her sapphire tresses was splayed out on the pillow underneath her head. They reminded him of a curved wave frozen in time. He gently pushed back the stray locks on her forehead. She was ethereally beautiful. His heart squeezed in his chest as he took in the sleeping beauty before him. As someone who only experienced heartache all his life, the ice mage didn’t think he was worthy of someone so beautiful and pure.

All I do is scar her.

His gaze dipped down to her abdomen – to where she sacrificed her life for him. The evidence of her suicide was well covered by her nightgown, but he could picture it all too clearly in his mind. Jagged lines winded up and down to narrow peaks, its almost-circular trek engraved forever on the right side of her navel. 

Gray wasn’t ashamed by scars, nor did he feel the slightest disgust towards them. His own body exhibited the permanent mark of several scars from years of battling as a mage. None of them bothered him; whether they were large or small; wide or narrow; he only demanded that they were visible to the world. 

But Juvia...it didn’t sit right with him for her to have them. Not that he thought they marred her beauty – hell, she was pretty no matter what. It was the history behind the engraved remnants of her sacrifice which troubled him. 

If only I was stronger then...Juvia wouldn’t have had to kill herself.

It was my duty to protect her, to keep her safe. 

He clenched his fist as an avalanche of failure crashed over him.

And I failed in both for Juvia.

For his entire life, all the people dearest to him had been snatched away. It didn’t matter how strong they were; one by one, they ceased to exist on the physical plane on earth. Though the abrupt conclusion to their story played out in different scenarios, they all shared a crucial common factor – their untimely deaths were all because of him.

Involuntarily, the final memories of his loved ones came flooding back – the disbelief, the immense despair, and the hopelessness – they all hit him like a train wreck.

His father, previously the strongest man in his eyes, now lying immobile in the destruction left by Deliora.

Ur’s motherly smile when she bid farewell to him as ice engulfed her mortal body.

Her daughter, Ultear, trading her priceless youth for him to be granted a second chance at life.

Juvia’s lifeless body, cold and unmoving in his arms.

The tsunami of his painful past threatened to wreck him and drown him under in their onslaught. His tensed muscles began to tremble from the effort of controlling the turbulent emotions which the flashbacks had evoked.

You killed them, a voice hissed inside his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block them out – the memories, the self-defeating voices, the fears – all of them. I’m not there. I’m not there anymore.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze landed on the soundly asleep form of Juvia. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed in and out slowly. The nightmares had stopped tormenting her. Seeing her resting peacefully – and breathing – calmed his frayed nerves considerably. His ragged breaths began to slow.

She’s still alive. Here, with me.

The ice mage carefully wrapped his arms around her as he pulled her in close for an embrace. Instantly, she instinctively leaned into his warmth and pressed her face into his naked chest. With that simple trusting gesture, her own warmth spread deeper into his chest to envelope his heart.

For hours, he was content to simply hold her in his arms as she slept. She even snored lightly at one point; this he would never tell her. He couldn’t complain, not when the greatest thing to had ever happened to him was lying in his bed.

He didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Not from her snores, but from the thoughts that raced through his mind and the plans he dared to envision – all of which involved a particular sapphire-haired woman. His dreams splashed every inch of his greyscale mental landscape with bright, invigorating colours of spring. Like the plants which grow from the emergence of the sun after the rain, the seeds of his wishes quickly sprouted to form endless possibilities together with her.

In the near future, they wouldn’t just be mere visions his mind conjured up. No – he would make them materialise into the real world.

When dawn arrived with its hopeful transformation from darkness to light, the ice mage was set with his conviction.

I don’t deserve you, but I will become a man worthy of you, Juvia.

Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, he sealed his unspoken promise to her.

I’ll keep you safe.

[padfootagain]

Always With You, Always With Me

This new Clone Wars trailer got me so fucked up, I had to write something for my precious baby Ahsoka!! So here we go for my first piece for her!

This is 100% of the fluffiest fluff, I am making my own heart melt with this.

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2069

It was the same and yet it was completely different.

Same pain. Same violence. Same blood spilled.

Different war.

You remembered the Clone Wars well enough, you were a teenager then. Some had called what had followed as a "new peace", but it wasn't. It was the war changing its shape to better linger on.

There was a lot that you had lost since the beginning of the Clone Wars. Actually, there was little you had left at all. But if there was one thing in this messed up galaxy that you wanted to protect and keep, it was the woman lying by your side.

When you met and discovered who Ahsoka was, your first thought was that a former jedi was the last thing you needed. Stars, how you had changed your mind in just a couple of years…

Ever since you had lost your family, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't get attached to anyone again. Love was too much risk to take during a war. And then, Ahsoka had stumbled into your life: an exhausted, out of breath, wounded woman all wrapped in a long blooded cloak. Helping her back to health was the best terrible decision you had ever taken in your life.

Outside, the rising sun painted the tired ruins of Yavin IV with gold. Most in the base were already wide awake. You had signed up long ago as a pilot for the rebellion, and Ahsoka had always been tracking down Sith Lords and fighting for the light, although, most of the time she came to Yavin, it was to see you. She was visiting you here now and then, while she wasn't travelling through the galaxy herself for some obscure reason she always kept hidden from you. Stealing a few moments together whenever you both could was all you could ask for. And as you looked at her sleeping under the golden sun, you were grateful for this moment you shared.

Deep down, you knew it would be a lot to ask to the Force to get another morning like this one. Still, you made the prayer.

Sounds of voices reached you, coming from the corridor. You checked the time: two hours left before your meeting to brief you on your next mission. Two hours left, you wished there could be an infinity instead. Ahsoka seemed to finally wake up by your side. She stretched, very much like a grumpy Loth-cat would have, and the thought brought a tender smile to your lips.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but her hand travelled across the bed nonetheless, looking for you through the sheets. Your smile widened at the sight, and you took her hand.

She smiled, turning on her side to face you, her eyelids still closed. You snuggled across the bed closer, until you could kiss her sleepy eyes.

"Morning, beautiful," you whispered, your voice a little raspy with fatigue.

"Hmm… mornin'," she mumbled back, playing with your fingers and moving her body to press against yours, skin against skin.

"Slept well?"

She chuckled.

"Don't recall there was that much rest involved."

It was your time to laugh, but you couldn't deny it, she spoke the truth.

There was still noise coming from the corridor, but you blocked it away from your mind. You had two hours left with her, you didn't intend to waste a single thought on the outside world.

You raised your hand to caress the white forms drawn across her features, and she wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you even closer. She smiled as your fingertips travelled across her forehead and then her cheek. The sunlight made the white areas of her skin golden, like the sky, her eyelashes catching yellow droplets too. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this, bathed with dawn.

"So… are you gonna keep your eyes closed all morning then?" you teased, and were not disappointed by her cheeky grin.

"Maybe," she teased.

"That's very cruel of you. What if I want to see your eyes?"

"I guess you'll have to convince me to open them."

"I could carry out a very violent tickle attack. That could do the trick."

She chuckled, her fingertips tracing circular patterns on the small of your back, delicate caresses that made you forget all your scars and all your pain and healed every inch of your broken soul.

"You wouldn't dare. You know how terrible my counter-attack would be."

"I'm reckless, haven't you established that by watching me fly yet?"

"Oh, I know you're reckless, flygirl."

"And you're unable to follow orders."

"Hey! Only unfair ones!"

You both burst out laughing.

"But I think that a kiss would be convincing enough, no need to threaten me with your terrifying tickles," she said mockingly, and if you hadn't loved her that much, you would have been annoyed by that smug tone. But then, you did love her that much, so instead, you complied and kissed her lips.

Which… turned out to be a little more than only one kiss, and more to be a lot of kisses. But then, it was to be expected with the two of you.

Over the kisses, you shifted position and as you finally pulled apart, Ahsoka rested her head against your heart, and listened to its steady rhythm.

Life. Beating. Pulsing. Strength, energy, existence bursting through your veins thanks to this tiny piece of muscle that she was listening to and was all hers. She could feel the force flooding through you, she had always felt it steady and peaceful around your frame. Some used to say, when she was a padawan, a lifetime ago, that the force surrounding a person could show the deepest part of their soul. She was not surprised to find out that yours was full of light.

You remained like this, cuddling, for a while, merely enjoying being together as minutes flew by. But eventually, you had to break the soothing silence that had settled in.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a whisper.

"Probably when you leave for your own mission."

"Where to?"

"The stars."

That was always her response. The stars. In the end, you knew it would be to do something against the Empire, more or less. You didn't know what, you didn't where. It didn't matter. She just couldn't tell you.

She couldn't tell you how fast she was running. She couldn’t tell you what her former Master, this man she trusted, and loved, and admired, had become. She couldn't tell you that she felt like it was partly her fault, that for countless nights she had stared into the shadows of her room and wondered what would have happened to Anakin if she had remained in the Order as his padawan. She couldn't tell you she was running from her past just as much as she tried to repair whatever she could because she felt like it was her who had destroyed it all. She had always felt like it was her fault, maybe because she was one of the few jedi still alive, at first at least. But then she learned about Anakin, and the guilt gnawed at her soul with renewed strength. You knew the truth though, you knew who Vader really was, under that mask and buried beyond all that hatred. You were the one to pick up Ahsoka's pieces and put them back together when she had learnt the truth during that duel. Nevertheless, she had never mentioned it again, and didn't intend to. You were the bright side of her life, she longed to let her demons behind thanks to you. Just like you hoped that by loving her, you would escape these ghosts that followed your every thoughts.

But then, you were there. Bright as a sun, tough as kyber. A strange combination of love and rage. You longed for peace, and wanted revenge. You were not afraid to admit the two sides of your soul. Maybe it was what had attracted her to you so much at first. How fiercely you wanted to destroy the Empire, to avenge all those you had lost, but also to save the ones who remained. You were fierce, just like her. A bright woman too selfless for her own good. Throughout these past couple of years though, you had been more than that to her: you were her home.

She couldn't stay for long. She was too afraid Vader would find a way to trace her back to you, and she would never forgive herself if anything happened to you because of her. She couldn't imagine how to live without you now… But still, she loved you too much to stay away forever, she needed you like she needed air, you were a part of her flooding through her veins, a constant presence more soothing than the Force itself.

She had been trained to avoid these feelings. She had heard what it was supposed to feel like to love someone so much that one's own self wasn't important anymore, only the other. To love someone so completely that your life depended on this love. She hadn't thought it was true.

And then, she met you. And now, despite the risks, she couldn't live without you.

"I'll come back soon, don't worry," she reassured you. "Just… be careful during your mission, alright?"

"Alright. But you ought to be careful too, yes? Investigating Sith Lords business can't always be easy. And I know you won't tell me anything, but I'm also not an idiot, and I know perfectly that's what you're truly up to."

Your voice was a little shaky. She chuckled.

"Worried are we, Ms. Y/L/N?"

But your expression grew more serious, and she knew you weren't trying to joke when you answered.

"Yes. Very."

She gave you a tender smile, moving up to rest her forehead against yours.

"We made a promise to each other a long time ago, I intend to honour it."

"Me too."

"I'll always come back to you."

"And I'll always come back to you."

Before you could add anything else, she was kissing you, deep and slow and loving, making sure to pour all her feelings for you into that kiss. It was like opening floodgates for love to run free. It was opening the door to let out the deepest secret of one's soul, and it was all love and light and care, and you wanted to cry before so much beauty offered to someone like you.

For years you had been certain that all you were was an orphan, one of billions that the wars had created, a fighter in a larger army, only one expendable pawn set on a game of chess the size of a galaxy. You had never thought your life important, not since you had lost everything. You thought you would end up dying alone, forgotten among the count of victims, and you were fine with it. But then Ahsoka had come, and she looked at you with so much love, and so much pride, and so much care, it was painful the way she made you feel so loved. It was too much for your untrained heart to take, this beating organ in your chest that had known nothing but pain for years wasn't ready to be adored. It still felt like all this love was too much, that it made your heart swell and almost burst, almost break your ribcage with all these feelings, to a point that your lungs didn't have enough room in your chest to let you breathe anymore. Like your life mattered all of a sudden. Because she loved you, and if someone like her could love you, then it had to mean that you were someone special too, after all.

You had thought for years that you weren't meant to be loved. But then, Ahsoka had proven you wrong. You reckoned that the best you could do to thank her, was to love her back just as fully and unconditionally as she loved you. And it was the easiest thing you had ever done.

"We'll always be together, right?" you asked her in a breath.

She ran a hand through your hair, offering you the softest of smiles.

"Yes, Y/N. We will. Even when we're apart, I'm always with you, and you're always with me."

 **************************************************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @wangmangagavroche​

[myhackerbuddy]

ANOTHER STORY

RAY’S ROUTE

Ray/Saeran is one hell of a character. For me, he’s one of the most pitiful who deserve more love from us. He might be an antagonist in casual and deep story, but in Another Story he’s just a boy who is lost and manipulated.

You’ve been chosen as a tester for his game where you’ll chat RFA members and act as the party coordinator. Ray will introduced his self as the creator, and offers you to stay in his place as you play his game. He’s a nice and sweet guy who cooks for you and give you flowers as his token of appreciation for testing his game. Though we know that he’a slowly developing feelings for the MC. He will visit your chatroom from time to time, and also pay you a visit in your room. He’ll always remind you that they are AI, and has comments every time you say they are nice and all. He clearly despise all of them that it’s entertaining.

However, his feelings seems to be a threat as the Savior slowly notices Ray being out of focus. She would order her believers to bring twice his elixir intake just so she can twist his mind off. Ray notices but as devoted as he is to the Savior, he drinks it despite his complains.

As you finally enter his route, he will not let you undergo the Cleansing Ceremony because he cares for you. He knows how painful it is and he doesn’t want you to experience that excruciating pain. So he gave you a complete imitation of elixir, telling you to drink it instead of the ‘real elixir’, in case the Savior will give you one.

Ray, as much as how nice and dedicated he is on doing his duty to ‘fight’ his brother from hacking, the Savior still notices the sudden change of Ray’s behavior so she held a sudden ceremony where they would force them to take elixir until the person is finally in a ‘correct’ state of mind.

In Day 8, he appeared to be completely different. He visits you to tease you, and calls you a toy, an airhead and good-for-nothing. In able to wake his other persona, the Savior calls him weak, and attack his imperfections and dark past just so he’ll feel bad and insecure.

Saeran is made from hatred. In able to keep him awake, he trolls and insult the MC, because by doing that he’ll feel stronger. That way he won’t feel someone can ever torment him. He get his strength by being mean and by showering him that he’s strong. The Savior will always remind him that he is strong, completely different when it’s Ray. It all depends if you are going to let him toy you or you’ll remain quiet. However Saeran admitted it to his self and in front of MC that all his words were not meant for her, but to him. All of those were his mother’s words.

This realization was all thanks to V, who tried to talked to him when Saeran’s in hiding and so confuse. Though V failed to fully convinced him, he saw a glimpse of hope when he mentioned being free together with the MC. I want to commend V for this route as he work so hard to fix his faults, regardless of endless claiming that he should be the one to blame. Zen and V’s conversation is really intense. Zen made its way to V’s heart by sharing his own experience about accepting his flaws and by choosing what he want, even by crossing in the hard road. He made sense on how things weren’t always in our grasp. That even if we shower our love to someone, if they won’t accept it, then they will not be able to understand you.

V claims that he failed to give Rika the love she deserve, and insisted to being the fruit of the cause. However, Zen brushed it off, saying he shouldn’t be harsh on his self and stop blaming his self. For once, he should stand up right and do what a true leader should be, and that is to correct his faults and not carry all the burden.

I understand V’s point, that he wanted to protect Rika. He, too, realized that he can’t protect her and RFA at the same time without revealing the truth. So he told in the chatroom about Seven’s identity, with Yoosung on the ears. It’s a shocking news for him, but the truth made Yoosung feel sympathy to him. He didn’t know how much burden V has been carrying. He’s able to get a little trust by Yoosung, but V didn’t really disclosed who’s the one controlling and manipulating Saeran. I still think V wanted to hide it at this point maybe because he wants to hope he still can save her. But we know he can’t. Rika, will remain as she is if she won’t seek for others light. She needs to love herself to be free from darkness. A simple talk would not work. He needed Jumin’s power but he can’t talk to him because Jumin’s being interviewed like Zen.

The last call (outgoing) from Seven was at Day 10, after the chatroom at 1:00 am something. When you call him, he quickly responded saying he is not in his house and you should comeback later when he’s home. It’s obvious that he’s making it up to cover you, hinting that you should delete all your data concerning him because you might get in trouble. You’ll know that he’s been taken and that they wanted him to drop the call. Seven, in the end, saved you from being involved that makes it more frustrating. The other members can’t reach him, even V.

I’m guessing it’s his father, but it can also be their agency since Vanderwood’s also involved. Either way, they are still in danger.

Rika would sneak every chatroom you are in, and you’ll know Saeran is back but very sick. Savior said that he came back and drunk all the elixir, the reason why he’s unconscious. But the elixir is not effective anymore because he finally realize the truth.

I’m so concerned with the twins, but I had a bad feeling about what V could do. He can pull off his sacrifice thing again just so the MC and Saeran can escape. I’ve been getting hints from his text messages and calls, like he’s saying goodbye.

I hated the fact that Seven’s nowhere to be found, and V will soon be in trouble. I know the story is yet to finish, as Saeran’s After Ending is still in the process, but it’s so frustrating if you’ll be left just like that.

At this point Saeran was truly enlightened. I am so happy for this, though Rika is really pitiful. The truth is, she’s trying to create a world where no one can ever step on her. She collected Believers in exchange of having an excuse to make it seems like she’s guiding them in the right path. Rika is the one who’s afraid to go outside. She’s the one who’s dark, coward and is incapable to do anything without someone’s command. That is her inner demon who keeps on blinding her. The Believers and Saeran is her way to shield her to the outside world.

She’s basically becoming like her parents. Different method, but same outcome. She had it bad.

Turns out that V has decided to sacrifice again. He went to Rika and told her he’s ready to love her again, and that he now knows how to love her... This made me so frustrated again.

V is being selfless, but is that the right thing to do? I thought he came to his senses. And his call made me feel like it’s the MC’s fault lol. He said that he finally know what true love is because of you, but he’s commiting the same mistake again. If you will look at it, if V will do everything what Rika ask him, he’ll end up in vain. He’ll suffer. If that’s his way for correcting his faults, then I want to shout at him for being fool.

Can’t we all save them in one route? I truly hope Saeran’s After Ending will help us save V too. Seven is another thing, but V is their second father. I felt his sense of responsibility in this route. As a father who had faults, he tried to protect them, and did everything to save them. Though I hated his way.

I don’t think we should hate V for this, as we know his own issue (that is, if you played his route). Unlike the other, V tried to move straight, even with loads of burden to carry. He’s a man with principle, and that is to protect everyone. However, hiding the truth will only stop him from moving forward.

But let’s give him the credit of researching about the twin’s father, plus he’s been going back and fort in monitoring you in Mint Eye and making sure Seven and the others are okay. He’s not perfect, but he’s one hell of a character too.

Yes the road is still far from reaching the goal. RFA doesn’t have a slightest idea about Rika’s whereabouts, and is still busy tracking Seven and planning about the prime minister. And then they have to save V too.

Normal Ending

The video got blocked so Jumin proceeded to his Plan B. That is to bring Saeran and the MC to his vacation place. That way, he can secure their safety as the prime minister tried to fix the mess. The one who blocked is no other than Seven’s agency. This made me think that the agency is holding Seven and Vanderwood captive. They’ve been hinting that one wrong move and the agency will blow them out. Be it on failing a mission or getting into mess, Seven created a huge violation to the agency. He was accepted because he stated that he doesnt have any relatives left. And by the agency blocking the video that contains the truth, it’s obvious that they didn’t like it. This made me worry about Seven and Vanderwood.

It’s a bittersweet ending for me. Magenta is untraceable, V and Seven is missing. However, Saeran and the MC has been living peacefully and planning for their future, completely ignoring all the problems that they left behind.

Good Ending

It was a success. The prime minister got jailed and the twins were the talked of the town. However, Seven’s still missing. Probably the agency is the one who held them captive, and worst, they’ve been disposed before they know it, after they blew the truth.

Or maybe... Seven escaped and is in hiding from the agency. We’ll know in AE for sure. Also, we don’t know if Seven’s really leaving traces of him so they can find him fast, as Saeran stated when he found the place on the same day by hacking. It’s also because Saeran’s a naturally genius too like Seven. We can’t really tell who’s better in hacking, all I know is they are invincible if they work together.

The RFA didn’t gave up. They went to the old place were they lived and tried to investigate if there are traces of Seven there. Saeran felt suffocated that’s why he went out with MC to talked about his brother.

He may not said it, but I think Saeran already forgive him for leaving. He knew he’s been used and brainwashed. He also knew the reason why he left: V made Seven an informant to protect him.

The MC then gave him his bookmark for Seven, the one V brought and tried to give when they first met.

This made me wonder... Rika and V’s appearance made me wonder what they are planning next. First, they got rid of Magenta and went to the old house to dispose it too. They visited it before they left. Their destination? It remains a mystery.

We don’t really know what Rika is planning. She’s not yet done, that’s for sure. Remember how she wanted to get a hold of the RFA members? Even with V by his side. I can’t help not to connect it to the Secret Ending.

Even if she’ll blind and limp him, she won’t be contented. Unless V find a way to save her. But that’s only possible if he’ll realize his flaws: the obsession and they way he view what love is.

In the end he sacrifice again for the sake of the RFA members. It was a selfless move as a leader, but very selfish for the members to keep the secret and leave the issue in his hand.

The mystery will continue to Saeran’s After Ending. And I suggest to ready your heart as well as your hourglasses.

Farm as many hg as you can, because I feel like it’ll be a big one just like how they created V’s AE. Maybe the reason that it’s taking long to finish is because they are trying to polish it perfectly, so as we wait for it to finish let’s uncover some of the Bad Endings and Rika’s Story first.

[chaoskirin]

Healing on Erit

It occurred to me that because healing is so fucking complicated, I’d better make some rules. Warning: Healing requires self-injury as a “sacrifice” in order to work. If you’re not okay with reading about the mechanics of it, don’t click through the read-more.

Healing is one of the most complicated magics on Erit. Faoliia demands that each spell has its own Cantyr, or "Power Word," and some require the use of a salve or potion to absorb a blood sacrifice. The ritual of each spell is up to the spell's creator.

At each of Faoliia's stones across the planet grows a garden of peculiar red flowers. They have no official name, but they're known as Cantyr Poppies among the goddess' favored. Should they be taken without Faoliia's blessing, retribution is delivered by her companion, Xax, the deity of disease. Those who steal Cantyr poppies rarely live very long thereafter.

A flower bestowed upon a mage and blessed by Faoliia will never die. The mage may use the flower to invent a new type of healing--be it a spell or a salve or a potion, et cetera. Writing a spell carries great responsibility on the part of the creator; they will at once know all the benefits and consequences of their spell and will carry the burden of teaching it. They must also write the process by which it may be done, and Faoliia will choose the amount of blood that must be sacrificed to enact it.

There are literally thousands of different spells. Some are broad in their healing power, and some are incredibly specific. The spell selection a mage uses depends on the words they can speak (as some spells are written in a language impossible for some species to recite) and their own memory. Other factors include their magical capacity and the favor the goddess has for them. It's impossible to know how Faoliia distributes her favor, as all types of people--from the humble to the extravagant, from the rich to the poor, and all species and races, have had her favor. She seems to like some people while rejecting others, and it's purely up to her whim.

A healer always carries several implements--vials for mixing potions, a wooden bowl for mixing salves, and a dagger blessed by the priests of Faoliia. The blunt end of the dagger also serves as the pestle for certain mixing requirements.

Every spell cast has its own blood sacrifice tied to it. The healer will cut themself--most use their palm--to let blood, which will complete the spell. At the point of bloodletting, the healer must speak the Cantyr associated with the spell, which will summon Faoliia's will. She will then either show her favor to the spell or reject it. More complicated spells carry more of a risk of rejection, especially if the Cantyr is enunciated poorly or the healer does not heal from their heart. Advanced mages rarely find their spells rejected. The writer of the spell may perform it without any fear of rejection or failure.

Should the spell find Faoliia's favor, the cut on the healer's palm will heal the instant it touches water without a trace. Should the spell fail, the cut must heal on its own. For this reason, ambitious or careless healers carry the scars of trial and error all over their bodies. An area scarred by a failed spell cannot be used again. For example, a healer who normally uses their palm for a blood sacrifice will find that their blessed dagger will no longer cut through the scar, and they will have to pick another location.

Those who fail a spell too often will find themselves punished by Xax, who will cause an illness to befall them for misuse of healing magic. This is a warning; the healer should strive to discover why their spells continue to fail or this disease will consume them. A healer cursed by Xax may choose to forsake healing all together; shattering their dagger in a temple of Faoliia will eliminate both the disease and Faoliia's favor with them.

Spells that have broad applications are generally weaker, but have less of a chance of failing. Spells with specific applications are more powerful, but may fail when performed by an unfavored or unskilled healer.

Some higher-level spells may never be failed. To do so will immediately incur Xax's wrath. For this reason, these spells are never printed in books anyone may read and are only passed from healer to healer.

Even the best of healers will find their favored sacrifice location will scar after many years of spells, even if they've never had a spell fail. When Faoliia determines that the location is "used up," the scar will heal a bright blood red. This is the mark of Faoliia, and older healers are generally venerated for these scars.

Daggers which are blessed by the goddess herself--so-called "Ruby Daggers" will generally accept a site much longer than other daggers, and scarring will take much longer to complete.

The sacrifice itself will open the skin of the healer. Once the Cantyr is spoken aloud, the blood transforms into concentrated magic and infuses the spell itself, turning potions, pastes, salves, and other methods of distribution a characteristic blood-red.

A spell which is only a Cantyr and requires no vehicle for application will immediately cause healing. Spells that require salves must also be bandaged by the healer with care to ensure proper infusing of magic. Healers are trained in proper bandaging techniques to ensure none of the healing salve is lost.

SAMPLE LIST OF SPELLS (In Old Harpish)

Ig'yin: The most basic healing potion. The first healing spell created and the first spell any new healer learns. Ig'yin translates to "minor health." It is a potion mixed in a vial or flask with a simple base of water. It's best used to heal simple hurts--headaches, upset stomaches, vertigo, the common cold, et cetera. Most healers carry a cache of these simple potions. They can stabilize someone who is hurt or sick while the healer recites or creates a stronger spell. It requires a very small blood sacrifice. This spell never fails.

Ig'yenna: This is the most basic healing salve. It translates to "minor slow health" and is a paste mixed with a base of wheat flour, water, and salt. It requires a thought-sink of some sort of plant, added to the mixture with healing in mind. (For example, the leaves of a sunburst locust, which most healers associate with life.) This salve is used to heal shallow cuts, bruises, and contusions. It can be combined with Ig'yin for concussions and applied to the forehead. Healers generally carry a jar of this salve, as well. It requires a very small blood sacrifice. This spell never fails.

Og'w'yin: A stronger healing potion. Small failure rate.

Og'w'yenna: A stronger healing salve. Small failure rate.

Yyinawg'waat: A salve for the feet, used to strengthen and form callouses. This salve will also heal any injury to the feet. Can also be used on the hands or fingers. Very useful for musicians of string instruments or drums. Very rarely fails.

Yenna'wkat: A potion for earaches and infections. Small failure rate.

Hhyii'wkat: A slightly stronger potion for the ears. Can heal the tympanic membrane if it is perforated. Small failure rate.

Oowoya'Ya'ami'kii: A special potion for allergies. Slightly more effective than traditionally-made medications, this potion can be made in batches and has a shelf life of about one aur. It's most effective when taken every 10 hours. Small failure rate.

Yyika ayakmi kc Yyika ayakari: A Cantyr which requires no salve or potion for delivery. It translates to "Life--meager (me) unto Life--meager (you)" This is used where potions and salves fail--for broken bones and deep sprains where the victim only wishes to be stabilized. This can be cast over and over to continue to heal the site, but requires a small blood sacrifice every time. For example, to fully heal a broken leg, a healer may need to cast it three separate times. The benefit is that this Cantyr cannot fail. It will also completely heal minor cuts and bruises, but using a powerful Cantyr for a minor injury is said to displease Faoliia--in cases where an injury is not life-threatening or debilitating, it's better to use minor potions and/or salves.

A'Aiyy'Og'Wii: A Cantyr for the mending of broken bones. This requires no salve or potion for delivery and is instantly effective. It also only needs to be cast once if a full heal is desired, making it more powerful than the above spell. A healer should know the above spell very well and must have cast it several times in selfless situations in order for Faoliia to favor the healer with this spell. Therefore, it has a moderate failure rate.

Wee'yigon'ee Oiweeyyeeosi W'w'w'yiiwin Waat'wii'ee't' Heeleena heeleenaaa'waat: One of the most complicated spells in existence; it combines the Cantyr itself, which must be spoken over a salve, then spoken again over a potion, then spoken again as the victim drinks the potion/as the healer applies the salve. This spell regrows a broken limb. The blood sacrifice is huge and will often knock a healer out after it is cast. For this reason, most healers charge a great deal of minir for this service. The smallest misstep can render this spell a failure, leaving the healer bleeding out without immediate intervention. While most spells allow the healer to choose their own site of sacrifice, this spell requires the healer to sever their own arm. Understandably, most healers never attempt it. A successful cast will regrow both the victim's missing limb as well as the healer's arm. Generally, healers who have Faoliia's great favor and who are able to successfully cast this spell once will be able to cast it again without issue.

[fostersffff]

Complete Black Eagle (read: Edelgard and Rhea) Thoughts

Now that I’ve finally finished both Silver Snow and Crimson Flower, I feel like I can put all of these thoughts out without worrying about a last minute twist. It’s entirely possible based on how much I’ve seen people talk about route differences that once I play Golden Deer and Blue Lions I’ll have changed my opinions, but barring some really wild and extreme stuff, I can’t imagine changing all that much. A ton of text under the break:

Edelgard

There was a Korean poll that was published recently where Edelgard was voted the #1 most disliked character in Three Houses... and also the #2 most liked character in Three Houses (behind Lysithea). It’s not a surprising result to see considering that she is the inciting antagonist, and that you don’t really understand why she does any of it unless you happened to start with the Black Eagles, but even then, IntSys felt it necessary to split Black Eagles into two routes, just in case you still didn’t want to side with her. But that’s what I think I found to be the most compelling thing about Edelgard: that she is a decidedly morally gray character, and how you feel about her comes down to looking at all of the things she does and asking “is this worth it?”

Part of what makes her so compelling to me is that no one understands her role better than Edelgard herself. She has no delusions about what she’s doing, and she never even makes an attempt to sugarcoat it to anyone around her. I made a post back when I first started the game about how I thought it was weird that her first support with Byleth ends with her talking about how she’s prepared to go down in the history books as History’s Greatest Monster without any context, but as the blanks fill in and time passes, it’s clear that she’s completely and utterly true to her word. "The ends justify the means” is the best description of her philosophy, but unlike a lot of characters (and people) who use that to justify their actions, she doesn’t take any solace in it, or use it as a way to offset the responsibility for all of the lives lost in the war. The end may justify the means, but it doesn’t make the means any less horrific, and even if the end result is a better world, it’s a small comfort to the countless people who died for it.

I think something crucial to sympathizing with Edelgard is that as far as she is concerned, she didn’t “initiate” hostilities with the church. When she kills Dimitri in the Crimson Flower route, she says “if only we were born in a time of peace, you might have enjoyed a joyful life as a benevolent ruler”, which sounds comically hypocritical in isolation coming from the person who declared war in the first place. But it’s because as far as she’s concerned, the systemic oppression resulting from the Church of Seiros’s influence on every Fodlan society means that true peace simply hasn’t existed since long before any of them were ever born. To Edelgard, there’s been a cold war between the Church of Seiros and humanity for a thousand years, and she took it upon herself to finally make it hot.

“Cold war” might sound exaggerated, but there’s something to that idea going on the evidence we’re presented with. At best, the church is ignorant to and/or idle on the suffering of the common folk and the corruption of the nobility all across the continent that exists because they grants noble status and political power to families that happen to have Crests. At worst, the church is intentionally passive about those problems because preserving the status quo and their absolute control is more important, and to act in any way to try to fix those problems directly could threaten their status as the center of power in Fodlan. Speaking of their control: isn’t it odd that the Church of Seiros was involved in each war for independence, maintaining their foothold in the old nation while also branching out and ensuring they were the dominant religion in the new ones? That the only time the church acts on their own (outside of an immediate threat like bandits) is when they are made aware of heresies, however mild, at which point they act decisively and without any shred of mercy, sending a sign to anyone who would dare try to cross the church? That, with the exception of Seteth and Flayn, the most devout members of the Knights of Seiros and the church have a fanatical devotion to Rhea specifically, and not Sothis or the doctrine of the church? The most insidious thing is that even if someone with the power to pose a threat to the church wanted to fight against them, the only people who could realistically muster up enough military might to challenge the Knights of Seiros would be nobles, and the fall of the church would also mean there would be nobody to legitimize their claims to nobility. Nobody would be willing to risk their noble status, and all of the perks that come with it, like that.

Except Edelgard.

This is actually what I like most about Edelgard, and why I was right to compare her to my favorite Fire Emblem villain: Zephiel. Zephiel’s goal in Fire Emblem 6 is the complete eradication of humanity and giving the world over to dragonkind, because he believes that humanity is a blight. He never says “I will lead this new world of dragons” or “My followers and I will live on to see the world of dragons”, which always led me to believe that he would eventually turn his sword on himself*. Edelgard, like Zephiel, does not intend to just conquer Fodlan and then just enjoy the spoils- once all of her affairs are in order (dismantling the church and nobility, re-establishing the church and turning nobility into a meritocracy, eradicating the Tunnel Snakes**) she finds a suitable successor (read: not her child) and then retires into the sunset (at least in the ending where she marries Byleth). And, if you don’t like Edelgard- or even if you do- this happy ending might rub you the wrong way, because even though her resolve was unshaken and she walks her path to the very end, it was still an incredibly violent path. This leads to another question that I’m sure people can argue forever: does Edelgard deserve to have a happy ending?

I’ve seen Edelgard described with a lot of terms that I don’t really think apply to her- like, at all- but I’d never seriously argue that she did nothing wrong. She is a dictator, and a warmonger, and regardless of which route you chose a tragic amount of life is lost as a direct result of her actions. Her alliance with the Tunnel Snakes is an entire can of worms of its own, because despite the fact that she has no control over what they choose to do on their own time, she is effectively still condoning their actions by relying on their power. The worst of it, as far as I’m concerned, is lying to her own people about who caused the destruction of Arianrhod and the loss of life there to prevent an internal conflict. I think with all that in mind, there are a lot of people who are locked into the conclusion that no, she doesn’t deserve to have a happy ending. 

But! To create the world she envisioned, one where Rhea was no longer manipulating the world from behind the scenes, a world that would improve the quality of life for everyone in future generations, she was never going to have a choice in how she did things. Think of how openly and casually Rhea talks about how enemies of the church must be eliminated, without any room for discussion. Would a diplomatic call for the Church of Seiros to disavow the current system of nobility based on the possession of crests and for Rhea to step down as archbishop be met with anything other than hostility not only from the church, but from the Kingdom and Alliance as well? Even something as simple as publicly renouncing her own faith to try to motivate a cultural change just within the empire would’ve probably had Rhea dispatching Catherine to cut her down for heresy, just like she did for Lord Lonato. And the final, most passive alternative- returning to the empire after graduating from the academy, ascending her father to become the next puppet of the cabinet, hoping that she eventually bears a child with a major Crest or else watch her own children undergo the same torture she and her family went through. That’s just completely unacceptable, especially when that kind of self-sacrifice is only to the benefit of the nobles and the preservation of a rotten status quo that also only benefits those same nobles- and Rhea, of course. No matter what, she was going to have to sacrifice, and while what she chose would involve the most bloodshed, it also had the best chance of making things better for the greatest number of people when all was said and done, so her getting to have at least one ending where she is completely successful and is rewarded on a personal level doesn’t strike me as inappropriate at all.

A lot of what I’ve talked about with Edelgard has to do with the church, which is inescapable considering every single action she takes is motivated by the church. So ultimately, one of the most important questions to consider when asking “is all of this worth it” is “is Rhea really that bad?” Well...

Rhea

This bitch is fucking insane holy shit.

It’s kind of a nice feeling to feel suspicious of a character from their introduction, only for things to actually be way worse than you could’ve ever expected. For what it’s worth, this isn’t a case of me hating the character on a writing level, it’s just that I find everything about her character to be loathsome even under the best possible circumstances.

What makes Rhea so despicable is how simple and selfish her entire motivation is. Every single action she takes and emotion she expresses can all be traced to an obsession with her mother. It’s not that she believes she needs Sothis’s guidance to deal with a problem that neither she nor the whole of humanity can’t deal with on their own, or that the world will only be at peace if Sothis is around to protect it, it is literally just for her own sake. And on its face, I can deeply sympathize with going to crazy lengths to want to see your mother after she was tragically taken away from you. I also love my mom! But there’s a bunch of lines- both explicitly stated and implied- Rhea sprints past at an Olympic pace that I (and hopefully most other people) would not cross. These include:

Having twelve children*** and trying to turn all of them into your mother.

Having a grandchild and trying to turn them into your mother.

Maintaining direct control and influence over multiple sovereign nations over a span of a thousand years so you can continue to try to bring back your mother without anyone bothering you.

Keeping your closest friends/relatives/allies out of the loop on all of your completely unethical experimentation because deep down inside you either know how fucked up it is, or that they would try to stop you.

Ordering your subordinates to burn down the city full of innocent bystanders you are currently occupying to try to kill the grandchild who you put your mother into.

The one that disturbs me the most is what’s implied by the ending of Crimson Flower. In Silver Snow, Rhea tells Byleth that they were stillborn, and that their mother begged Rhea to put the Crest Stone into Byleth to give them a chance to live. But at the end of Crimson Flower, Rhea’s death causes the Crest Stone on Byleth’s heart to fade away, which should result in their death. But after a few moments, their heart starts up normally and they go on living as normal. They lose Sothis’s power in the process, but they’re just as healthy as they were before they obtained it. This leads me to believe that Byleth may have actually been born healthy and that, after their mother had passed from complications due to childbirth, Rhea placed the Crest Stone on their heart anyway. Or- it’s even possible that Rhea killed the mother herself, removing her Crest Stone heart after sensing that Byleth might be a better vessel because of their parentage. After all, Rhea is the only person who truly knew what happened in there. Jeralt had no idea about the exact nature of Byleth’s heart, only that they had no heartbeat, and Seteth and Flayn didn’t know about anything at all. Obviously, that’s all just speculation, as far as I’m concerned something like this is totally in line with Rhea’s character.

Now, to revisit the question of “is Rhea really that bad”, Edelgard doesn’t know about any of Rhea’s personal fucked up shit. What she knows about is what the church has done and what has happened under their watch and thus with their implicit blessing, that Rhea is actually The Immaculate One, and that she has been the sole driving power of the Church of Seiros since the church was initially founded. On a personal level, her own life and the lives of all of her family members were destroyed by the Church of Seiros’s influence on society via crests. And it should be noted that Edelgard’s not stupid; she’s very likely aware that the Tunnel Snakes are the ones who performed the blood reconstruction on her and her siblings at the behest and/or with the consent of the Empire’s cabinet and Lord Arundel, and she even addresses how awful they are and that she really wants no part of them when she approaches Jeralt and Byleth as the Flame Emperor. But, back when I first suspected that Edelgard was the Flame Emperor, I made a joke about how she has to deal with the fact that the Tunnel Snakes are dabbing on a mountain of corpses while Rhea is cripwalking on an even bigger mountain of corpses. But that wasn’t accurate- it’s not just that Rhea’s mountain is bigger, it’s also composed of people who are still alive, but suffered because of the Church of Seiros: Dorothea’s childhood spent as a wretch because she was born a commoner, the abuse Bernadetta endured from her father to make her noble wife material, Caspar and Sylvain’s brother being shunned from their families for the crime of being born without a Crest, Lysithea suffering the exact same procedure as Edelgard to increase her family’s noble standing, Hanneman’s sister dying from trying to bear a child with a Crest, to say nothing of the characters I haven’t seen the stories of yet. In the grand scheme of the game’s universe, this is only a sample of about 30 characters: what about the potential hundreds of thousands of other lives with stories similar to- or possibly worse than- the main cast? And what’s more, Rhea is not gloating about how big her pile is. She’s so utterly preoccupied with her mother that doesn’t even notice the mountain beneath her, and that might actually be worse.

Both

Finally, I want to briefly touch on the way both characters interact with Byleth, and how they handle things when they’re made into the villain. No matter what route the player chooses, Byleth does something for Edelgard that she has never experienced before: unconditional protection. She was prepared to fight the bandit, and she saw him coming from a mile away so I imagine she could’ve handled it, but Byleth still jumps in front of her to protect her. This is why Edelgard puts so much stock into Byleth, much to the chagrin of Hubert. It’s not that she doesn’t trust that Hubert and the rest of the Black Eagles are capable of helping her, but to them, she is Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire. Even if their friendships with her would suggest otherwise, there is an ocean of difference between them because of their stations. But to Byleth, she was “simply Edelgard”. She has never experienced that kind of interaction in her entire life, and especially not when there was danger involved. This is so ingrained in her that even in the route where you most directly oppose her, after having spent a full year getting to know and understand her and still choosing to fight against her, her last words are “I wanted to walk with you.” Even that phrasing- that she wanted to walk with them, not that she wanted them to walk with her- says so much about how strongly she feels about Byleth. Is it waifubaiting? Oh baby is it ever, but it doesn’t make it less solid

On the flipside: something I really genuinely hate in games (and stories in general, but it crops up the most in games) is when people have unflinching, unwavering faith in the player character for no good reason. It’s why I think Persona 4 is a worse game than 3 despite being better in almost every other meaningful way. This almost certainly has to do with me not liking Rhea from the start: appropros of seemingly nothing, she is as dotting as any mother would be, she entrust you with an entire class of students lives with zero credentials, and in addition to that she is constantly assigning Byleth the most important tasks because she just has so much faith that they’re destined for greatness. Unlike the situation with Edelgard, helping fight off some bandits is not reasonable precedent for trusting someone this much. And the biggest reason I appreciate Rhea as a villain is because all of this turns out to be a ruse. All of this is in service of currying Byleth’s favor, to get them to trust her, to make them feel special, so that when she asks them to sit on the throne so Sothis can take over their body, they wouldn’t think anything of it. And you know it’s all been a ruse because of how unbelievably fast her turn is if you side with Edelgard. There’s no consistency between the Rhea who gently stroked your hair and sang you a lullaby when you were recovering from your trip to the shadow realm and the Rhea who calls you a failure and is going to rip your heart out of your chest.

*I’m extrapolating a lot of information about Zephiel and the world of FE6 in general because we just don’t have access to as much lore as we do in Three Houses, but I think what I’m saying are reasonable conclusions

**I call Those Who Slither In The Dark “Tunnel Snakes” for a number of reasons: it’s shorter, it functionally means the same thing, and it’s funny to me

***I refer to the vessels Rhea created as her children because that’s what I understood them to be when I first played Silver Snow, but upon rewatching the cutscene what she actually says is “I tried to bring her back by creating a body, and then burying a Crest Stone within it”. This could mean her own children that she bore, but it could also mean a number of other things, like vessels “created” from normal humans she acquired. For my own headcanon, the utter detachment she shows for Byleth when they side with Edelgard leads me to believe that they are, in fact, her biological children, but she refers to them so clinically because she felt nothing for them except disdain for not being able to house Sothis.

[knybits]

A Murder of One

Chapter: 

3

Summary: 

Akiko learns to cope and she’s given a proposal

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

“Ray, you’re going to let her do what?!” 

Ray sets his cup of coffee down, sighing deeply as Akiko sparkles with excitement. His wife is standing from her seat at the dinner table, palm slammed onto the surface and food scattered nearby. 

“She’s going to cut open a cadaver today-” 

“YOU’RE CRAZY! THERE’S NO WAY IN HELL I’M LETTING YOU DO THAT! SHE’S 11! YOU’RE KIDDING, RIGHT-?!” 

Akiko stares at the scalpel in her hand, a bit big since she hasn’t matured yet. Ray observes her, allowing Akiko to explore her curiosity as she peeks through the window of the room. 

The body is covered with a blanket, and Akiko can see that it’s most likely a woman, 5’2” and in her… early 20’s? 

“Are you ready love?” 

Akiko stares at the leather bag by her father’s side, sitting onto the floor to slip the scalpel back into its roll-able mat along with the other neatly lined up scalpels. When she clicks the leather physician’s bag close and picks it up with both hands, struggling under the weight, Ray opens the door. 

The room is cold. 

It’s uninviting, and there’s always a shine of metal reflecting into Akiko’s gold eyes. 

“What am I doing?” Akiko wonders at her father, dropping the bag unceremoniously next to the table with the body laying on top.  

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you can go ahead and reveal the body.” Ray hands his daughter some rubber gloves, though some of her fingers don’t reach the ends. 

The smell of the body isn’t strong, but she knows that if Tanjirou were here instead, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

Akiko wonders how she’ll react when she sees the actual body. 

Her hands grab the ends of the blanket before she rips it right off, having already mentally prepared herself. 

Or so she thought. 

Akiko feels like the body on the table. 

Just… Not actually dead, she supposes.  

The feeling of bile still left in the back of her throat and the stillness of her fingers. 

Her body draining of blood and all her nerves shutting down. 

The same feeling she has now, looking right at the man who killed her fiance and his whole family. 

Akiko would rather be dead than feel like this, the puddles of blood in the house and the smell of rot making her body reel back. 

But what can she do? 

Akiko wants to be mad, to cry, to kill him. She wants to demand for Tanjirou’s life back, for Kie and Shigeru, for Rokuta to have a second chance because he died too early, for Takeo to blush whenever she smiles at him, for Nezuko to have a new kimono and Hanako to learn how to read. 

Akiko wants so many things, but there isn’t enough money in the world for her to get what she wants. 

Akiko doesn’t remember what she did after she saw the cadaver. 

Ray might have talked her down from her initial shock, or she might have passed out. Maybe she cried and begged for Tanjirou. Gotten mad at life and how cruel it was to kill such a young woman. Might have even directed her anger at her father for making her look at a dead body. 

But she remembers choking back every emotion in the end, hardening her mind and stopping the other unnecessary thoughts in her head. Akiko remembers thinking back to the way her father would cut through bodies in the operating room, now copying his incisions onto this cadaver. 

She got the job done. 

She cut a cadaver open. 

Akiko knows that Kanon’s left overs are in her hands, but upon looking down she sees a stomach, a spleen and a liver. Akiko can feel the heavy organs in the palm of her hand; how they make her fingers blue and how she’s suddenly breathing out mist. 

Akiko isn’t the same anymore.  

She knows the smell of rotting blood, and this man in front of her show no traces of splattered remains. 

She knows the sight of a dead body, and this man is very much breathing and alive. 

So Akiko steadies herself, shoves her emotions back down her throat and remembers the touch of the scalpel in her hand. 

She cuts another cadaver open. 

“You killed my fiance.” 

The man looks down at Akiko, deep blue eyes unwavering despite such a confusing statement he’s met with. 

The girl beside him tilts her head, continuing to smile before settling her hand on her own katana, as if she’s ready to fight this small, frail looking 13 year old despite she herself looking 16. 

“Oh? An acquaintance of yours, Tomioka-san?” 

This man, Tomioka, disregards Akiko, choosing to walk past her instead. 

Akiko’s hold on her scalpel tightens, and she carves deeper. 

“Four months ago, you killed my fiance. The villagers said they saw a man with black hair and blue eyes with a katana by his side and a mismatched haori. That’s you. It was you.” 

Tomioka stops walking and the other girl looks a bit more interested in what’s about to happen. 

“...I have no recollection of killing a human.” 

Akiko grabs a bone saw. 

“Don’t mess with me! You killed him and his whole family! You really don’t remember?!” 

The man turns back around to face her, finally giving Akiko his full attention. But Akiko finds out that this is all so that he can quickly drag her into a nearby alleyway and away from curious eyes. 

Akiko cuts deeper and deeper, getting past the ribs as they crack under pressure. 

“Kamado Kie. Kamado Rokuta. Kamado Shigeru. Kamado Hanako. Kamado Takeo. Kamado Nezuko.” Akiko wants to cry, she really does. She wants the tears to run down her face like they did three months ago. 

“Kamado Tanjirou was my fiance, and you killed him.” 

Akiko is pressing down on the heart now, the tissue making an odd sound each time she places her palm onto it. 

His face is as impassive as ever and Akiko nearly goes insane. He shows no sign of remembering, but there’s no way he didn’t kill the Kamado family. With the description, the similarities are uncanny. 

The heart is in her hand, and Akiko finally smiles. 

“You killed my happiness, and you have to pay.” 

A hand settles on his katana and the girl steps forward, stopping Akiko from taking a step. Akiko blinks in surprise when the girl suddenly appears by her side. 

“I think you have the wrong idea.” The girl places a hand on Akiko’s shoulder, but the grip is enough for Akiko to forget that she’s holding a heart. Her emotions rise back up, but she forces the idea of a heart into her hands once again. 

“You see, we’re demon slayers! If anything, Tomioka-san must have killed your demon turned fiance!” 

Akiko’s eyes widen in shock, her brain slowly trying to process this new information. There's screaming in her ears, but she tunes this out too. 

“Demons aren’t real,” Is the first thing Akiko says. The girl chuckles at Akiko’s foolishness, but the man remains as impassive as ever. 

“How silly! Well, there’s a family being killed right now down the street, so why don’t you come with us to find out for yourself? Of course, it’s your fault we’re late for this kill.” 

Tomioka suddenly lifts Akiko into his arms and she screams as the self proclaimed demon slayers leap into the air, landing on roofs to bypass the massive crowd. 

As Akiko looks down, she sees that the screaming is real and people are running down the street in a panicked frenzy. 

So Akiko looks further, and the blood drains from her face once more. 

Everyone is running out of Kanon’s inn. 

“The de-... The demon is at my friend’s inn.” Akiko says, and they finally arrive in front of the inn.

The last few people scramble out, few sporting bloodied body parts and calling for help. Akiko is let down and the two hunters unsheathe their katanas, a blue and lilac glint flickering off of Akiko’s eyes. 

“Care to see the demon? Or would you rather wait out here? It’s much safer, and you’d only get in the way if you came with us.” 

Akiko rushes into the inn anyway, taking the cloth from her tied up box of food with her when catching sight of a bloodied Kanon lying on the floor. 

The girl heaves a heavy sigh before they both run in after Akiko, Tomioka parrying the sudden swipe of claws directed at Akiko. 

“More to eat, hm?” The demon laughs, and Akiko finally turns to take a good look at it. 

She’s holding another scalpel now, the urge to throw up forced away. 

Waist down the demon looks normal, but from there up it’s a complete mess. The demon has two heads, and their ribs burst from their body, pointy and dangerous. Their spine sticks out too, like a long row of daggers to protect itself from any attacks from behind. 

But Akiko can see. 

“Wha-What’s that written on his eye?” 

‘Lower Moon 6’ 

And not just that too. 

“You’re hurt!” 

Tomioka looks down at his arm to see that he does in fact have a small cut on his arm. But the pain is nothing to him, and he readies for another attack. The girl with the butterfly pin springs around, attempting to stab through his strong defense with her odd looking katana. 

“Pay attention to your friend. This is nothing.” Is all he says, and Akiko’s gut wrenches with annoyance. 

She tears the cloth in half before wrapping Kanon’s open leg wound, stopping the bleeding. Her leg looks broken too, so Akiko works to reset it and create a splint.

Akiko then turns her attention to find other fallen victims and spots Kanon’s younger brother, Haruki, a few feet away, face incredibly pale and blood gushing from his head. 

“You think you can beat me?!” The demon screeches, it’s arm cut off due to Tomioka’s attack. 

“You already LOST!” 

Cold blue eyes widening, the demon slayer feels a sickening pain in his arm before his bone snaps. 

“Tomioka-san!” The girl yells, but he pushes on. The demon loses another arm and his ribs are sliced clean off, but his neck is heavily surrounded by bone. 

“Akiko…” Kanon’s shaky voice brings Akiko back down to earth, and her attention is brought back to her patient. 

“My brother…” 

The scalpel returns to Akiko’s hand, and Akiko rushes to the fallen boy, quickly wrapping his head wound and pulling him to the side of the room to lessen his chance of getting caught in the crossfire. 

Akiko then returns to Kanon’s body to do the same, propping her back up against the wall while counting Kanon’s breaths. 

“Bone…” Kanon struggles to breath out. 

Akiko checks Haruki’s body for more injuries before turning to her friend, “Huh? Kanon, just stay quiet for me okay? I’m going to help yo-” 

“If he cuts you, he can break bones…” Kanon loses consciousness after that, and Akiko finally realizes why Haruki must be bleeding so heavily from his head. 

And why Tomioka’s arm suddenly made a snapping sound. 

She hopes that the brain fracture isn’t too severe, and is only just a fracture. 

“Shinobu!” Tomioka calls out, and Akiko looks up to see the demon is no longer protected by bones, though they’re rapidly growing back. 

Shinobu bursts forward with an insane amount of speed before impaling the demon through the chest, back flipping away to avoid being cut. 

“Hah?! A weak stab like that? You demon slayers must be jokin- BLH” Blood comes pouring out of the demon’s mouth, his bones suddenly withering away and falling to the floor. His eyes cry blood and he begins to fall to his knees, but Tomioka sees an opening as the protective bone around the demon’s neck withers away as well. 

With one fell swoop, the head of the demon rolls next to Akiko’s sitting body. Her eyes stare at the decapitated head, glimmering like topaz and allowing her brain to process this moment, replacing the scalpel with something stronger, like a heart. 

It crumbles away like dust and the body goes with it, nothing left for Akiko to cut open and examine. Almost as if everything that just happened was a nightmare. 

The thought that proof of what killed the Kamado family dissipated too crosses Akiko’s mind, and now she doesn’t know what to think. 

“Believe us now?” The girl, Akiko now knows her as Shinobu, asks. She and Akiko are the only ones injury free, but the man Akiko accused of killing her fiance cradles his arm, looking at Kanon’s fainted figure. 

“...You.” He looks up to Akiko, who gestures for him to sit in front of her. 

“It’s Tomioka Giyuu.” He states bluntly, complying with her request when he doesn’t feel the murderous aura from earlier. 

She’s calmer now, though forced. A dam waiting to break, and Giyuu knows that he’s the one drop that can break the dam and flood the valley. 

“Arm.” She holds her hand out and Tomioka raises a brow. Nevertheless, he offers her his injured arm and she rips the hem of her dress off while searching for plank boards nearby. 

When she finds some, Akiko quickly apologies before setting his arm back into place. He winces, but says nothing else, and Akiko is impressed with his pain tolerance. She’s about to finish her job when Shinobu offers Tomioka a pill and Akiko a small container filled with a paste. 

“Before you wrap everything up, slather this over the cut, okay?” Akiko nods her head and does as she’s instructed, wrapping up the makeshift splint and bowing her head to Tomioka to show that she’s done.

Shinobu hums, rather impressed with Akiko’s handiwork, before the two tell Akiko to stay put while they survey the rest of the inn. 

While waiting, Akiko pretends not to notice Kanon’s dead mother in the kitchen, instead checking Kanon’s pulse and how often she breathes. 

A few minutes later, Kanon wakes with a start, eyes crazy and hair matted to her face due to the dried blood. 

“Wh-Where’s my brother?!” 

“Kanon! Calm down, breathe!” 

“Haruki! Akiko, he was-” Her eyes dilate with fear when she sees how lifeless his body is. Akiko won’t lie that she’s worried, and she prevents Kanon from feeling his cold body in hopes of saving her friend’s sanity. 

“I’ll save him. I promise, Kanon, he’ll be okay.” Her drive is strong, and Kanon can’t help but give into Akiko’s chrysanthemum eyes. Kanon offers a hesitant nod of her head, but Akiko assumes that Kanon is also mentally drained and needs to sleep to allow herself to cope. 

Akiko holds Kanon’s hands in her own, thumbs brushing over cuts and scars as her mind races for the fastest way to bring the two back to the hospital. 

Black clad figures soon rush into the building, and after a quick survey of the damage, they start to work. They drag bodies from broken furniture, and Akiko notices that they’re attempting to fix broken bodies. 

So, she struggles to her feet, rushing to the closest black clad figure to ask if she can help. 

“Miss?” Someone taps her shoulder, and she whips to meet their gaze. 

It’s Shinobu, smiling as innocently as ever. Akiko purses her lips, turning back to the black clad people before sighing and looking to Shinobu to give her attention instead. 

“Tamura Akiko. My name is Tamura Akiko.” 

“Introductions! In that case, I’m Kochou Shinobu! Now, back to business, hm?” 

Akiko watches as Giyuu takes Kanon’s body in their arms, running out of the inn to take her god knows where. The same is done to Haruki, though taken by a black clad person, and Akiko cries out a distraught, “Hey!” 

“Don’t worry about that! They’re being taken to the Butterfly Estate. How about you tell me how you know so much about medicine!” 

“Where’s the Butterfly Estate?” Akiko asks instead, and Shinobu takes Akiko’s shoulders to keep her planted, instead continuing on despite Akiko’s rude interruption. 

“Not everyone knows how to fix a broken bone, especially a girl so young!” Shinobu smiles and Akiko hates feeling so small. 

Shinobu looks at her like the rest of the boys in her class do. 

There’s a hint of anger in her, and though the boys felt anger for being outdone by Akiko, Shinobu’s anger is placed somewhere else. 

“Well I do-” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’m… I’m studying medicine… But besides that, bring Kanon and her brother back! We need to send them to the hospital!” 

“No need! And doesn’t this sound perfect!” 

Akiko doesn’t like how Shinobu is hiding her annoyance towards her. She can see it clear as day, and she doesn’t know why Shinobu is even trying to act nice. 

“What sounds perfect?” 

“You can-” 

“Actually,” Akiko cuts Shinobu off again, and she sees the annoyance grow, similar to how Kanon’s annoyance grew when they first met. 

“Why don’t you tell me to go home? You’re always angry and yet you smile. You obviously don’t want me here.” 

The annoyance goes away, and Akiko raises a brow at Shinobu’s sudden interest in her. The sudden shift in her mood is off putting, and Akiko can’t help but take a step back. 

Shinobu looks at Akiko like some sort of toy. 

“How can you tell?” 

“You’re admitting it?” Akiko scoffs, but answers nonetheless, “I can see it.” 

Shinobu steps forward, Akiko stiffening when hands cup her cheeks and her face is brought closer to be examined. 

 Withering iris eyes studying dancing ginko ones. 

“Your eyes are blessed, I see. We have much to talk about concerning Tomioka-san. But how about this? Study medicine at the Butterfly Estate from now on!” 

LMAO I FORGOT TO DO AN AUTHOR���S NOTE SO I HAD TO GO BACK AND EDIT IT 

ok so i hope this chapter was enjoyable for you guys! its was EXTREMELY long (the longest so far at 2850 ish words, i think) and not all chapters will be like this! i try to make them at least 2000 words, and the past few have been closer to 2500, but this one ended up being a super long one and i couldnt help it 

if you readers ever have any questions about murder of one, please send in an ask! im more than willing to clear things up! 

sorry tanjirou didn tmake an appearance even as a bapie here ;-; 

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, Jay! We have accepted your application for your OC, Lou St. Claire (FC Meghann Fahy) Please create a blog for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Lou in her bio. Welcome to Bloodline!

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Lauren “Lou” Mae St. Claire

Desired FC: Meghann Fahy

Character’s Age: 24

Character’s Species: Human

Character’s Sexuality: Pansexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Growing up, Lou was never the smartest or prettiest, the most popular or the most graceful. But what she was was kind and earnest, had a good family, and above all she loved dance more than anything. Dance was what defined her life - the friends she had, how she spent her free time, her dreams. She had to work hard, not as naturally gifted as her best friend, Theo, or blessed with the body of a ballerina. Her own mother, who always supported her, was frequently bracing for disappointment because more often than not, it came. Though always by her side was Theo. What everyone else saw was two girls opposite in almost every way. What they saw, were the things in one another that no one else did. So despite never being the best, Lou was able to with her passion and dedication make her dreams happen. Or so she thought when she and Theo were off to school in New York to study dance. It might have not been at as prestigious a school as Theo’s, nor was she on scholarship, but she’d worked through high school. She could do the same through college and take out loans. It would be worth it. And for the most part it was. Lou blossomed in college, coming more into her own and moving past some of her childhood awkwardness, her body more fit for adulthood. Her dancing pedigree might have not been top notch, and she still didn’t have the traditional look of a ballerina, but she knew what she was doing. The competition in her program wasn’t as cutthroat as Theo’s, though it was demanding all the same. She had less and less time to take shifts as a waitress and less and less time to see Theo. And when they did they were often fighting. Some of it was stupid stuff, the misdirected stress dumped on the one safe person who was always going to be there. And some of it was serious. The things Theo did that worried Lou. She never imagined that there were would be a day where she would miss their fights that she hated until Theo was just gone one day. Up and vanished without a trace. Lou worried sick, went to the police and begged them to look into things when all they did was brush her off as some silly girl. She had her own destructive spiral in the aftermath of Theo’s disappearance. A few short relationships she knew were bad from the start and a slip in her grades she really couldn’t afford. Her family pulled her out of it when she was home for the holidays and while New York’s lights looked dimmed without Theo by her side, Lou went after her goals harder than ever. And without Theo to protect her, Lou learned how to stand up for herself. Things started to look better and finally her dreams of a job with a company were realized after graduation. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a principal dancer, and probably wouldn’t be one. An understudy to a secondary role seemed real enough. No one could take away her accomplishment.

Only when dancing is your job, the pressure is different. Lou was far from the only little girl with a dream of making it. Growing up, when her dance teacher had yelled and been hard on her, she had known it was because she had loved them and had wanted the best for them. Now every bit of harshness, every time she was yelled at, signaled one thing. Lou was replaceable. Lou still loved to dance but it was hard, physically, mentally, and emotionally to keep up with the pace that was being part of a New York dance company. The toll showed in other places. Her steady boyfriend that everyone thought she would marry broke up with her. She went home and saw her family less and less. Some nights she wondered if it would have felt different if Theo had never disappeared or if her dream still would have lost some of its luster. Finally when her contract was up, Lou got a job teaching dance at a studio instead. She stayed in New York and made sure she was one of those teachers that loved her students like hers had when she was younger. Life wasn’t exactly the dream she had envisioned, but she knew now that was okay. She still went to auditions here and there, and it was after a particularly bad one that Theo unexpectedly came back into her life. It was going to be one drink and instead it was staring face to face with her once best friend with far too many conflicted emotions for a discussion in a bar. So it was out to the alley, Lou upset and flustered and completely oblivious that she and Theo were about to kidnapped and taken miles away.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Kindhearted and at times painfully earnest, Lou is the type of person who tries to see the best in everyone. While maturity has given her a new found confidence in herself and her body that she didn’t possess grown up, some habits are hard to break and self-consciousness and doubt can get the best of her. Lou is dramatic through good and bad, and passionate about doing what it right to a fault. She doesn’t look before leaping which pairs poorly with her trusting nature. Ultimately Lou is completely unprepared for the morally gray world of the supernatural.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Lou is going to be scandalized by much of what she will end up learning at the manor, but she’s also very pro that the witches should be safe and not under attack by humans. That however, doesn’t justify kidnapping. If given the chance she’ll trust most people which could lead to a variety of different bonds early on. I could see once she realizes what is happening with the wolves, getting herself into some trouble trying to stand up for them or supporting whatever resistance occurs. But it’s not like she’s in any position of power so mostly she’ll go with the flow.

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Ch. 53

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.8K, 53/?

Summary: Nico and Maki get some alone time.

Aftershocks: An Atonal Interlude

With as jumpy as Maki was during the day, Nico was always surprised to wake up and find the redhead so soundly asleep that not even Nico poking her, or shifting weight off her, or (most of the time) prying out a flung out limb from underneath the torso of a clingy girlfriend would stir the redhead. At some point, Maki had transformed back into human form, most of the bruises, scrapes and burns healed away. Maki snored as Nico eased her way out of bed, finding the t-shirt she’d pulled out of a drawer and a pair of fuzzy wool socks in the dark. After 3 a.m., no news from the parental Nishikinos, and Nico was restless, unsure of what had happened to Maki or her friends early in the evening, uncertain of how walking into the theatre and seeing Kashima would feel, just generally restless. And HUNGRY.  Nico knew as soon as Maki woke up, she’d probably be in search of a snack and both cooking and cleaning served the same purpose, calming Nico when there was too much to think about. So with a gentle breath of a kiss on Maki’s forehead, Nico headed downstairs to see what kind of pantry the Nishikinos kept.

Having accomplished the task of repurposing pancake mix to blueberry muffins, Nico had left them to cool, and invited herself into Maki’s music room, wanting to look at the music Maki had composed to Neruda again. Maki had written it for her, right, so surely no one could object if Nico pulled it out and played it herself. The Nico (and Neruda) by Moonlight folder was lying out on top of the bookshelf, so Nico opened it and sat on the piano bench, shuffling through the scored sheets to see if there was anything else Maki had been working on…

“How like you are to the longest kiss, Its fixed shock seems to nourish you, And its thrust of live coals, of fluttering flag, Goes…” Maki’s voice trembled nervously “throbbing in your domains…What if I was planning to surprise you?”

Nico glanced up, Maki was leaning in the doorframe, hair hanging down over her eyes, bathrobe loosely tied around her, but half falling off her shoulder. The werewolf was trying very hard to glare at Nico, but a huge yawn destroyed any non cute mood she’d been setting. Nico bounced off the bench and wrapped Maki up in a mighty hug, “Nico’s girlfriend is a genius composer.” Nico bopped a kiss on the end of Maki’s nose. Maki leaned into Nico’s hair and Nico could feel the smile.

“Nico made you muffins. You seemed like you’d wake up hungry.”

“I did. They smell wonderful” Maki nodded and looped her fingers through Nico’s, “Come watch me eat.”

The muffins were cool enough to just drop on the plate and Maki grabbed two for a start, to go with her mug of warmed milk.

“These are amazing.” Maki mumbled as she chewed.

“Nico had to unpancake them and spice them up...mostly cinnamon and crumbled candied ginger, since your kitchen has nothing…”

“We order in a lot. My parents go to a bunch of events every month and a chef drops off frozen meals.” Maki grinned at Nico, grabbing another muffin and wiping crumbs from her mouth, “This is so much better.”

“You could kiss the cook.” Nico teased, sipping her hot chocolate, glancing around the Nishikino kitchen, considering what she’d have to bring with her to make Maki a decent home cooked meal. Pretty much all Maki had was assorted caffeinated products, some candy, and a supply of candles.

“Later.” Maki winked, continuing to decimate the muffin fortress. “I’ve been so HUNGRY.” Maki groaned, “I lost track of how many transformations I went through. Everything was....” Maki pulled a muffin in half, “split...confusing.”

Nico, content to watch her girlfriend enjoying Nico’s cooking skills, let Maki finish eating before asking for anymore details.

As Maki swallowed the last bite, Nico put her mug down. “So what exactly happened to you?”

Maki grimaced at Nico's straightforwardness, taking a few seconds to stare sadly at the empty muffin plate, “Um…” Maki bit her lip, fang out, but her girlfriend was locked in too introspective a mood for Nico to get many clues.

More encouragement maybe. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…but Nico will listen.”

Maki nodded her head, still staring ahead blankly, fingers rubbing at her temples as she tried to push into phrases that Nico could understand the dissonance that had confronted her senses. Maybe a painter could have shown all the levels but...Maki could hear Nico humming under her breath, it was something the future star of stage and screen had taken to doing when she was trying not to rush Maki with questions. But the humming had reminded Maki of a thought...

Maki stood abruptly, inspired, grabbing Nico’s hand again, dragging her back to the music room, leaving Nico standing while Maki pushed up the fallboard and began to play, her hands gliding over the keys at first, and pausing and then pounding across the piano, more drift, a lift from her seat and then diving into the keys to strike jarring, strident notes, then a quick trill, then a circular swing of the head into a pause to launch broadly ominous strokes with both hands, gentler touches and desperate strikes sounding with no real pattern…Nico twisted her own hands, she’d never heard music like this before, no way she was going back to sleep for hours as the notes, stripped of any familiar rhythm, bored into her ears. But watching Maki, radiating passion, unerringly precise, caught, completely absorbed in the storm she was creating, grace and melody warring with seemingly random lurching crashes of notes kept Nico from pleading with the musician to stop. When Maki did let her fingers fall silent on the keys and the quakes of music stilled, amethyst eyes, charged with emerald neon, swirling with haunted shadows, cried.

Nico couldn’t move, overcome with….reverence, like the deep of heart at prayer. Maki seemed unapproachable, aloof, so distant, face a pained carving in hard experience. But Nico needed to reach out, Maki was too alone, porcelain not marble...Hesitating, Nico spoke softly into the silence, which almost pulsed as it filled the places the music had painfully torn. “Did you…”

Maki shook her head, “Arnold Schoenberg. I learned it to study atonal music.”

“It was…” Nico debated whether to compliment the player or strike the truth, sliding next to Maki on the bench, searching the pain clouding Maki’s eyes, “awful.”

Maki surprised herself with a laughing grin, “Yeah, it was.”

Nico stroked Maki’s chin, gently, thumb teasing Maki’s lip, “You were brave.”

Maki gulped and nodded.

“You saved your friends. And Nico.” Nico shivered, remembering the stifling closeness of the coffin.

Reminding Maki of Nico’s peril was a misjudgement if Nico wanted her ribs unbruised because the werewolf jerked forward and threw her arms around Nico, practically driving them both off the bench, snuffling madly through Nico's hair.

Nico’s words were rushed as she tried to calm Maki, “Nico is fine, pretty girl, nobody hurt Nico, everything is okay, you’re home now, we’re home now, Nico is here…”

The Schoenberg still in her ears and the strange tingle of another existence lingering, Maki had a sudden fear she would wake up and be in a nightmare, again, alone, strange smells, dissonant sounds, no weight, no Nico…when the barrier had stopped her and there had been no trace of Nico anywhere in the strangeness she and Rin and Hanayo had been trapped in, Maki had felt a harder, scarring hit than any of Anju’s traceless attacks.

“Nico…” There was a frantic urgency in Maki’s voice as she threw her body into Nico, rolling them over and over as she kissed the sable haired dynamo desperately. Nico was trying to keep some control but when Maki took Nico’s hand and placed it over the curve of her breast pressing against Nico, whispering Nico’s name, kiss biting Nico’s lip in a the hastiest, messiest, sexiest way possible, Nico let her own primitive instincts take over, forcing the werewolf to stop long enough for Nico to regain control of their equilibrium, Maki’s neck no longer a moving target, but a bullseye Nico could hit with her eyes closed, nipping kisses that made Maki’s head roll back, mouth open, moans and whimpers filling the music room with a melody Nico preferred.

Nico had already gotten used to the feel of feather light, ticklish red hair sprayed across her face like a light mist of water. It did still occasionally trigger a near sneeze and as her face contorted, Maki rolled with laughter, pushing them both into the couch. Nico tenderly pulled Maki’s robe over her lover, the door was still open after all, but Nico knew werewolf hearing would have warned them of anyone’s arrival. Nico stretched out, one arm under Maki, thinking how nice it was to have this much space, to stretch, to think, to exist, without anyone crowding. Maki didn’t count, Maki didn’t crowd, Maki was a warm, gladdening weight reminding Nico of exactly how on top of the world she was. And that was a wonderful feeling after the frustrations of the earlier part of the evening, the idiocy of Kashima and company. Maki sensed Nico’s focus turning elsewhere and nudged Nico with her nose, human so not wet or cold, just a tickling tease to remind Nico she had an audience right there. Nico flipped up on her side, kissing the nuzzling Maki on the forehead, “All better, pretty girl?”

Maki nodded, a little shy, still uncertain about revealing so much vulnerability. Nico, head propped on her fist so her eyes were level with naked and nervous’s glowing amethyst emotional barometers, smiled softly, “You’re kind of amazing, Gorgeous. Nico still can’t believe how lucky she is to have you for her adoring girlfriend.”

Maki blushed and ducked her head. Nico held her closer, “Of course, Nico does have her own charms.” Emboldened by the way Maki melted into her, Nico couldn’t stop the self congratulatory train, “Maki would be lost without her Nico.”

Once again a wrong note, mixed with the brash smirk Maki found so irresistible, too close in time to the vision of a Nico not breathing and a small world of air that held no traces of Nico. Maki sat up, pulling up her robe, pushing off the couch to get to her feet, “You can’t just say that...why would you say that…” tears, so many tears from Nico didn’t know where, then a whimper as Maki shook her head, red flying everywhere, “I can’t do this…”

Nico’s heart started racing from panic, “What did I say, Maki? What happened?”

Maki was pacing, too fast, long legs flashing and distracting Nico from trying to figure out where the mood went wrong. Nico tried for an embrace, but Maki didn’t stop, one hand up. “Just don’t…”

“C’mon, Maki...tell me what’s happening....Nico was just teasing…” Nico forcibly adjusted her focus, watching Maki’s expression for clues, wondering what else she could say to maybe get a reaction from Maki that would explain what was going on.

Nico was just too close. How if Nico kept being so close could Maki process all of this? Nico joking about not being there, daring the universe with how fragile their connection was, the terror Maki felt at the thought of losing her, the fear now, knowing there were worlds without Nico and Maki had been there, needing Nico’s touch but not wanting to need it...if Nico was there, eyes full of a matching fear, an echoing future loss, fingers tingling even at the distance Maki was desperately trying to keep, the sanity of a solitude now impossible that Nico had blasted open Maki’s heart, pieces in every pore, skin rippling, want resonating. No, no, now music was resonating, Maki was at the piano, Neruda and Nico once again intruding in her head, taking over, driving out everything but impulse. Pounding impulse, pressing need, an absence ripped bare by Nico’s presence.

“Safe in the midst of Spring crazy with light in the cold, walking tranquil in the fire, lifting your petal weight in my arms as if I had never walked except with you, my heart, as if could not walk except with you,”

Then she whispered aloud, Nico’s presence forgotten as her fingers found the right notes, “as if I could not sing/except when you sing.” And then she played through the whole passage,

“Safe, crazy with light, tranquil in fire, singing….as if, as if never, never...except with you, except with you.”

“Never. Except with you.”  What had happened to the Maki before Nico? Before Neruda?

Maki wrote notes quickly on the score, then jumped when Nico’s hands dropped on her shoulders, “You would do fine without Nico, pretty girl. This” Nico tapped the sheet with her finger, “is genius.”

“It just happens.” Maki frowned, not looking at her lover, “I have to get it out of my head…”

“Good.” Nico played with Maki’s hair, keeping her tone deliberately light, “more room for fantasies about me.”

Maki almost shook off Nico’s hands, her obvious discomfort surprising Nico. Nico couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice, “What is wrong? What did I do?”

Leaning forward, Nico could see Maki’s eyes, the neon green an unsettling slow pulse around the werewolf’s pupils, mouth opening and closing several times. Then Maki took a deep breath and howled as effectively as she could as a human. Maki let her throat open and freed the fear, that this was the moment her need of Nico left bare the truth that she had no idea how to get back to neutral, to solitary Maki, to a Maki not lost in a swell of feelings and physical needs.

Nico tried to make sense of the emotions she could feel mashed up in Maki’s voice, the tension under her hands...there was withdrawal, isolation, uncertainty, searching...but here they were, both here together, safe, Maki had not even a thirty minutes ago, screamed out Nico’s name in cresting, crashing ecstasy...how had that become this, this feeling that Maki had taken herself somewhere else, somewhere Nico didn’t know and couldn’t find, but that wasn’t true, Nico would find Maki anywhere…not knowing what else to do, Nico hugged Maki as tightly as she could, whispering “Maki” over and over again, and waiting, feeling Maki’s hasty breaths as the werewolf tensed, possibly debating whether to stand or run or…talking was a new option for Maki, Nico realized, one the werewolf had yet to grow comfortable with. After several minutes of Maki’s awkwardnesss, the feeling that her girlfriend wanted to bolt, but...Nico let go and sat on the bench next to Maki, legs just touching.

“Sorry, pretty girl…I don’t know what I did but...” Nico pressed a long note.

Maki shook her head, hands clenched in front of her, “You’re fine...”

“What are you?” Nico questioned gently, choosing words more carefully than ever before.

A shrug, Maki’s head thrown back, tumbling curls of hair freed from gravity for a moment in a graceful sweep through the air, arms shaking out some of their tension.

After a minute of thought. “I’m tired, Nico.” She let her head fall on Nico’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Nico imagined a ghost of a smile. She wondered if she was right. So many things still to discover. But first, she needed to get Maki back to bed. And not in the sexy way.

“Nico will tuck you in.” Nico took Maki’s hand, glad to feel a warmth between their palms, as if the redhead had decided to close this sudden distance between them. “And sleep down here, if you want.”

“Let’s just stay.” Maki, head still on Nico’s shoulder, sounded years worth of weary. Nico needed to ask Rin and Hanayo for more details when she saw them.

“If that’s what Maki wants.” Nico reached across to stroke Maki’s hair.

“I do.”

A/N: This was meant to be a longer chapter, but no one wanted to intrude.

Take care!

[galfridus1]

CONGRATS FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ So... Ahem, this is the first time ever I ask for something like this... Thus I'm pretty excited... Would you mind doing number 7 with Escanor and Merlin? I'm 100% sure you'll do an AWESOME job *^* Thank You! (And congratz again!)

Thank you so much! And thanks for the vote of confidence as well. I really hope you like this!

This story was inspired by some real life scientific findings which have been discussed in the press recently. Fruit flies like sex, or at least the males do. This is a fact (see here for more). And Merlin would definitely have been in on this line of research, though her experiment here is slightly different.

***

It had been a mistake to visit Merlin’s lab.

Biting his lip, brow sweating slightly, his eyes tracked her as she sashayed across the room and Escanor struggled to maintain a semblance of stoic interest. He had never been so embarrassed in all of his days. His skin prickled and his face flushed with heat, his heart racing uncontrollably as he tried to get ahold of his himself. But it was no use. He licked his lips involuntarily as Merlin came closer to him and he could see, in sharp detail, every inch of her form, the flawless skin and delicate curves designed to send him crazy. Her lack of clothing had never affected him like this before, but this was hardly a typical day.

It had started well enough. Since the end of the War, it had become clear that his fears were unfounded, just petty jealousy on his part. That golden boy he had worried about clearly had other fish to fry, leaving Merlin free to enjoy her experiments now that Britannia was restored to something approaching its former self. She had returned to Liones, esconsing herself in the Magical Research Building, resuming her life before they had been exiled as if nothing had happened.

And he had let her. Every day, he told himself that this would be the day, the day he finally told Merlin he loved her. More than anything. More than the sun, and the moon, and the stars. Even more than the freedom to just exist in society that he now so enjoyed thanks to the glasses she had fashioned. But no matter how hard he tried he could not summon up sufficient courage to explain how he felt, not even via the medium of poem.

Alcohol had not helped either. The Captain and Ban had suggested a little Dutch courage, and had practically poured the concoction they had created for the purpose down his throat. With wicked grins, they had shoved a bouquet of flowers into his hand and pushed him unceremoniously out of The Boar Hat to go find Merlin. But he had been too drunk to navigate his way along the winding streets of Liones and had collapsed into a puddle at the side of the road, only to be rescued by Diane and King some hours later as they returned home. Escanor found he could not bear to be in the same room as the pair; he cared for them immensely and yet found their obvious happiness pierced through his chest.

Meanwhile Gowther had suggested modifying Merlin’s memories to make her more susceptible to his advances but, tempting as the idea was, Escanor had put his foot down. The doll had stared at him blankly, before resuming his book, the slight shrug of the shoulders his only remaining comment on the matter.

It was because he was so weak and pathetic with his glasses on, that was the trouble. Why would Merlin wish to bother with his night self? He stuttered, prevaricated, fussed, and generally made himself a nuisance. What he needed to do of course was approach her during the day, but he did not want to become him and so forfeit his pleasant life in the city.

But in the end he arrived at a solution: at half past six in the evening, just as the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, Escanor had stood outside the Magical Research Building, nervously pulling at his waistcoat. It was slightly baggy but not excessively so, and it would fit perfectly in due course. With great trepidation, he had removed the round glasses from his face, feeling the pride of a lion surge through his veins as his frame elongated and his muscles expanded. The sorceress would surely find him irresistible now.

Stealing himself, Escanor had rung the bell Merlin had hooked up to the door, unsurprised when it swung open on its own. Merlin hated to be interrupted when she was in the middle of an experiment, particularly to do something as mundane as answer the door, but she would permit visitors if she was in the right frame of mind. Every step he had taken up the stairs, the more excited he had felt. He was going to tell her, and she would be his and the whole world would shine with their love.

Then he had made his way into her sanctum and his dreams were almost immediately shattered to pieces. It was the smell that had hit him: a sickly aroma of dates and orange peel and something he couldn’t quite place. It only took a few breaths of the air before he had noticed his heart begin to race, his clothes suddenly feeling too tight and uncomfortable, his ability to think seriously impaired. And as he had struggled with this new reality, trying to work out why he had apparently lost control of his body, Merlin walked into view and all his courage had vanished in an instant.

“M…Merlin, how are you?” he spluttered, feeling his face flush as she flashed her seductive smile. Not the wittiest or openings but it was frankly a miracle he had been able to croak out something intelligible. As the woman of his dreams strode towards him, her hips swinging with her gait, he stood mesmerised, unable to take his eyes away from her. It was with a great effort he forced his gaze up to her cherry red lips, not finding that this helped him much with his predicament.

“Tolerable. This experiment could certainly qualify as intriguing.” Merlin looked longingly over her shoulder towards her work bench, some sort of apparatus placed in the very centre and Escanor started slightly to see the contents move. “Come and observe,” Merlin continued as she led him to the table, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. Escanor however found it difficult to move; whatever this odour was it affected him greatly.

“You can sense it too, I see, even at this low concentration. Most interesting,” Merlin mused as she examined him critically. “I presumed the effect was limited to these files but evidently this potion has great potential.”

“What is it?” Escanor gasped, his face red as a brick. Struggling to breathe, he looked into the contraption of Merlin’s creation. Inside the glass box were several chambers, all of them buzzing with large numbers of tiny insects. Escanor noticed however that some of the animals had green dots on their backs, and that these were concentrated in one part of the box in particular.

“Fruit flies,” Merlin said, a small smile curving over her face. “I’ve modified some of them so that they have no sense of smell, and those left in the usual condition I have marked with a fluorescent green ink. You will observe that these marked flies are all congregating in this corner? That is where I have placed a small drop of the potion.

“It turns them on,” Merlin said bluntly as Escanor stared at her, his mouth unable to form words. “My hypothesis was that non-humanoid life forms have no interest in sexual desire but you can see that this is not the case. Those flies who I have left able to experience pleasure are deliberately seeking it out.

“This potion is very mild,” Merlin continued, her smile faltering slightly as she moved closer and Escanor thought his heart would explode as it thumped cruelly in his chest. “I believed it would only influence these dumb creatures. I am surprised to see you have also fallen prey to its effects.”

His desire to run away growing to critical levels, all traces of pride completely erased, Escanor collapsed on the floor, doing his best to hide the way his body was responding so embarrassingly to Merlin’s experiment. He was on fire; every muscle, every nerve was twitching uncontrollably as he looked at the woman who had haunted his dreams for years. He drank in the sensual curve of her lips and the sparking intelligence in her amber eyes. He had never wanted Merlin so badly.

Frozen to the spot, Escanor watched as Merlin placed the glass box in a cabinet, before opening the window as wide as it would go. She then returned to her workstation, quickly combining the contents of several vials before briefly heating the potion over a small flame. The liquid boiled slowly, viscous green bubbles bursting at the top of the test tube as Merlin gave a cry of triumph.

“Here,” she commanded as she shoved the vial under Escanor’s nose. “I know it smells bad, but you will feel better, trust me.” Without further ado, Escanor took a deep breath, gagging as the new odour hit the back of his throat, burning the inside of his nostrils. ‘Smells bad’ was an understatement; he had never encountered any aroma so vile in all of his days. When the stinging in his throat subsided however, he found he could stand, the urges he had contended with moments before having completely subsided.

“I… I’m so sorry… that was unforgivable,” he muttered with a slight bow, the heat in his face now arising from pure mortification. As he lowered his head he caught sight of his clothing, shame welling up in his breast as he saw how baggy his waistcoat now was. Evidently night had fallen, and he was once more the powerless weakling Merlin do doubt despised.

Gaze fixed on the floor, Escanor started to shuffle towards the door, hoping to make a quick exit now he was back in control. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, Merlin’s fingers digging slightly into the fabric of his clothes.

“You don’t have to go,” she murmured, using two long fingers to raise his chin and Escanor was relieved to see nothing but kindness in Merlin’s eyes. She had always been so good to him, no doubt from condescension, but he valued her friendship more than anything in the world. “You get more interesting every day,” she continued, her smile broadening and Escanor felt his heart would break. When would he accept that his dreams were just that? Merlin could never return his affections.

He was extremely surprised therefore when, moving closer, Merlin placed her lips on his. It was slow and chaste, and he stayed stock still, unsure of what to do. Merlin however was undeterred, pulling his arms around her waist and Escanor finally gave way, electricity running through his veins as he permitted himself to return her kiss. It was everything he had dreamed of and more, her soft sighs stirring his blood anew as Merlin ran her fingers into his hair.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Escanor groaned as they broke apart, gasping for air. Merlin grinned at him, her fingers caressing the back of his neck in a way that threatened to hypnotise him. His own hands dragged up her back, feeling the silk fabric of her gown under his palms.

“I know,” she murmured as she returned his embrace, pulling him close as their lips met once more.

[bananannabeth]

Hi ashlee! Sorry to bother you but I've seen you and a couple people blogging about my immortal and I was hoping you could explain what's going on? From what I understand we just found out who the author is? But I'm not familiar with the actual story of my immortal. At least I don't remember ever coming across it. Thanks in advance!

It’s this 44 chapters long Harry Potter fanfic that was written back in 2006-2007 by ‘Tara Gilesbie’, published on fanfiction.net, and it’s so atrocious it’s great. The main character is a vampire goth (or ‘goffik’) called Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way but sometimes her name is spelled Enoby, the spelling overall is terrible, the plot is nonsensical and weirdly sexual, the characters and world are completely bastardised and on top of that the author sprinkles notes about her preferences and life story throughout the actual chapters and in the author’s notes. It’s so ridiculous, you truly have to read at least the first chapter to get an idea of how weird it is. There’s references to Hot Topic, to self-harm, to characters constantly hooking up, Hogwarts is divided into Goths and Preps, Harry and Draco are exes and everyone’s names are constantly being misspelled… It’s truly a wild read. Buzzfeed did a pretty god job picking out some of the best bits for its ten year anniversary, if you can’t sit through the whole thing you definitely have to read this.

It so completely disregarded Harry Potter canon and was so hated at the time that it got thousands of negative reviews, which made it infamous, and the author’s notes got more aggressive in response to the feedback. It was hacked twice, and then the author ‘got bored’ of it, and then she got locked out of her account.

It got really famous because no one could decide if it was genuine or a parody. It was so terrible a lot of people thought it must have been satire, but it was so long and so bad that a lot of people also thought it couldn’t have been made up because of the effort that went into it. It was like an over exaggerated example of all the worst bits of emo internet culture in the early 2000s, and some people saw it as a brilliant commentary on the state of fandom while others saw it as a blight on people who were trying to get fanfiction to be taken seriously. The debate raged and My Immortal even became required reading for a course at Princeton, but the author managed to stay anonymous and one of the greatest mysteries of the internet.

Recently, an unrelated scandal occurred in the YA publishing world where an ‘author’ named Lani Sarem attempted to buy her way onto the top of the NYT Bestsellers List with a book so terrible it garnered comparisons to My Immortal. People started speculating (half joking, half serious?) that maybe she was the author, My Immortal had been completely serious, and she had never grown up or changed her writing style at all and was now trying to scam her way to a profit with it. 

This is obviously terrible, and it actually coincided with the real author of My Immortal making her first public statement on the internet in years, after she rediscovered and updated the bio of her fictionpress.net account, which had a similar account name, creation date (and apparently the same email and password) as the fanfiction.net account that had hosted My Immortal. After that first update she came back to say, no, she was not Lani Sarem. And then she came back again to reiterate that she was the real author of My Immortal, and, in the process, dropped hints that she had an agent, an editor, worked with amazing women in the publishing industry, and that she couldn’t say anything else about My Immortal ‘for now’.

Linking directly back to the Lani Sarem scandal, an editorial assistant at Wednesday Books made a (now deleted) tweet saying, “we have a book with the girl who wrote My Immortal. Definitely not the same person as this nut.” 

Someone took this information and began hunting for clues as to who this author could be. They came across mention of a book called Under the Same Stars by Rose Christo, being published by the pretty damn impressive publishing house Macmillan. Now, I’ve heard two different stories at this point: Both might be true, maybe they happened at the same time or maybe one after the other, I’m not sure. But I’ve heard that they then found Rose Christo on Twitter, and discovered a screenshot she’d posted of something else that had another tab with what appeared to be the fictionpress account open. The other thing I’ve heard is that someone found Rose on tumblr and searched through her blog for mentions of My Immortal, and found a post where she admitted (in a round about way) to being the author (because she didn’t want Ebony being called a TERF, as if this story wasn’t wild enough to begin with!!).

Either way, people were now undeniably linking Rose Christo with My Immortal. And it turns out they were right, and Rose was the author, and Under the Same Stars is actually a story that details the time of her life when she was in the New York foster system, searching for her younger brother and writing My Immortal (which was a troll fic, she has confirmed) with her foster sister, referred to throughout the fic as Raven. 

Here’s the official description of the book:

In the early 2000s, Rose Christo was separated from her five-year-old brother and shuttled between foster homes in Brooklyn to the Bronx and back again. Desperate to be reunited with her sibling, she traveled the five boroughs, unable to find any trace of him, as New York State’s child care agencies failed to help her time and again.Then, with the help of one beloved foster sister, Rose created an infamous piece of Harry Potter fanfiction titled My Immortal, posting it online under the pseudonym XXXbloodyrists666XXX. The “44 chapters and 22,000 words of hysterical, typo-laden hyperbole” went viral as the most notoriously terrible fanfic ever read by the community. For years, fans, writers, and editors researched, debated, and contested the story’s origin and its mysterious author: Was this grammatically challenged rant actually written by a suicidal goth teenager named Tara Gilesbe living in Dubai, or was this a hoax perpetrated by a group of professional authors making fun of fanfiction?The truth is a gripping, compelling, and surprisingly funny story of how a young girl infiltrated and used the fanfiction community to search for her brother by baiting their attention with a deliberately badly written tale, creating a 10-year mystery that garnered pop culture media attention and remained unsolved — until now.

Understandably, everyone lost their minds, because all the backstories people had hypothesised for the author of My Immortal were so far from Rose’s real life story (or the glimpses we’ve gotten of it so far). 

She had been hoping to remain anonymous until the publication of the book was properly announced, when it’s subtitle The search for my brother and the true story of My Immortal, would have whipped up this same internet frenzy. But the whole thing with Lani just caused people to go snooping and the news came out earlier than she had planned, which is actually quite frustrating and upsetting for her, I’d imagine. But she seems to be taking it in stride.

You can read her FAQ, where she answers a few questions about all this in her own words, and you can read about the other books she has published here. I also recommend checking out her blog in general for some great insight into issues effecting Native Americans. You can buy her books on Amazon, too, if you want to read any others before Under the Same Stars comes out.

Even though we all know who the author is now, My Immortal remains one of the greatest things to ever come out of the hell-time that was the early 2000s, and is like a time capsule of all the worst bits of internet culture back then. After following this mystery for a decade, I’m really, really glad to know that the author has done so well for herself.

[klarolijahs]

The Mad King

I thought I’d post my old drabbles (the ones that haven’t been lost forever and ever and ever) on the new tumblr. Hopefully it’ll make me wanna write again! So this is one of my old drabbles that’s already on my FF page. 

A/N – So these are two drabbles, they both together form a complete story I suppose. But I wrote them separately.

Warning – Trigger warning guys, adultery, self-harm, do not read if it will affect you. Ye were warned.

Request -  Regency era, like you had in Breath Of Life - Klaroline are married but Caroline only gives birth to girls and under pressure to produce an heir, Klaus takes a lover to give him a son. You chose how she reacts.

The first girl was stillborn. Nothing to worry about, her mid-wife had said, she was young, she would bear many children.

The second girl was born barely a year later, with a head full of blonde curls and blue eyes. They called Klaus harsh and cruel in the land; she knew him to be harsh, she never had and never wished to see his cruelty. But when he looked down at his daughter, a simple smile on his face she knew he wasn't as simple as they made him out to be. Her husband was a complicated man.

The third daughter was born 4 months early, and didn't survive the night.

The fourth daughter was born 11 months later, her dirty blonde hair smoother and softer like her mother, with early signs of her father's dimples. Klaus was content and smiled in resignation.

The fifth daughter was born a year later. Klaus didn't hold her until she was 4 months.

Then, he stopped coming to her bedchambers, stopped touching her, stopping seeing her altogether. Without any warning, she was shifted to a smaller bedchamber as far away from Klaus' as possible, and informed by her mother-in-law that since she could not bear her son any male heir's, her services would no longer be needed. And that he would find someone else to bear him a son.

Their marriage had been an arranged one, but with time she had come to love Klaus, and come to believe that he reciprocated her feelings. Which fueled her determination to speak to him before he took drastic steps.

"You could say no," she pleaded with him, trying in vain to control her tears as she sat on his bed. It had taken her a full week to manage to get an audience with her own husband.

"I want a son, Caroline," he replied sternly, "Is that so wrong of me?" he questioned, his eyes cold and hollow, and she longed to see any sign of the man who sketched every inch of her as she slept, who wiped her tears when her mother died, who rocked her back to sleep when she had nightmares about her unborn child dying, some sign, any indication that she meant more to him than a working womb.

"Is it wrong of me to want a faithful husband?" she retorted back, traitorous tears sneaking down her cheeks. He hesitated for a second, before turning away from her as he said, "It isn't uncommon."

She knew he was right; it wasn't uncommon for men to take lovers, but that didn't mean it didn't sting her. She had nothing more to say, no meager words would change his mind. Gathering her skirts as gracefully as she could, she made her way out of his chambers.

He spoke her name softly, making her turn around as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Caroline."

She watched from afar, burying the pain and betrayal she felt, focusing all her attention on her daughters. She didn't know her name, she didn't want to. She saw her at times; making herself believe that Klaus had chosen a blonde, blue-eyed girl for a reason.

She watched and ignored and mourned, until his lover gave birth to a son. Klaus no longer smiled at her, never even looked at his daughters. She was no longer the woman of the house, she was the woman who wasn't good enough. Then she spiraled down a deep abyss that had no bottom.

Klaus heard the servants screaming as he played with his son in the garden. Handing him off to his caretaker, he ran into the mansion, following the screams.

They came from Caroline's bedchambers. Where he found his wife hanging from the ceiling, her tears still wet on her cheeks.

A few people asked for a continuation to the above drabble, of how Klaus reacts, so this is that.

The dreams began years after her death.

Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he ventured into the wing of the mansion he never visited, as if fearing it would break him by its mere presence. The sound of loud giggling and running feet stopped his frantic walk, as a small girl ran out of her chambers and into the passage. Her governess screeching as she followed behind her. Cassandra, eleven years old now, was the spitting image of her mother, even at such a young age. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his daughter, a wave of emotions spiraling through him.

Taken aback by him, she stopped in her tracks, twirling around in her bright yellow tunic as she gave him a shy, genuine smile, and in his head he saw Caroline smiling at him the same way, on their wedding night all those years ago. She had her mother's smile. And his heart broke, when he realized the girl probably didn't even know he was her father. The governess grabbed her by the shoulders, gently reprimanding her for running away. Her hurried apologies fell on deaf ears, his attention focused on the small child who huffed and followed after her caretaker. He lingered by the door, watching as Cassandra asked her governess who the strange man was.

"He's your father, pumpkin," the old lady replied, fussing over the child's unruly curls.

From the small crack of the door, Klaus watched as the smile faded from his first-borns face, her eyes growing dark and sad as she looked down at her feet. And in his head, he saw Caroline's face when she learnt of his son.

That night, he dreamt of her for the first time.

He dreamt of the last conversation they had, he dreamt of giving in to her pleas, he dreamt of forgetting about his need to have a son. He dreamt of not letting her walk away from him. He dreamt of never having done anything to have to apologize to her for.

When he woke up, he did so drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf. And never knowing, or never wanting to know, if the wetness on his cheeks was from his cold sweats or the tears he shed in the memory of his dead wife.

He dreamt of her every night, therein.

He dreamt of the day his youngest daughter was born. He dreamt of going in to see her after he was informed it was a girl. He dreamt of holding her as Caroline watched him. He dreamt of suggesting that they name her after Caroline's mother. He dreamt of not leaving for 4 months to look for another woman to share his bed and bear his son.

And when he woke up, the truth of his actions haunted him. His daughter was named Elizabeth, but by no aid of his. And by the time he first held her, he had decided that it would be the first time he would hold her, or her mother.

He dreamt of the night he betrayed his vows to Caroline. He dreamt of not going through with it. He dreamt of giving into the guilt that had flooded him. He dreamt of going back to Caroline, telling her that he'd rather have her and a dozen daughters than some other woman and a male heir.

But when he woke up, his wife was now the woman who bore him his son. And his daughters had no idea who he was.

Weeks later, he requested to see his daughters, a request that positively baffled their governess. It was a cruel joke, he was certain of if, for each of his daughters looked just like their mother. Elizabeth, the youngest and the most clueless, took to him the fastest, chasing the butterflies with her sister. Cassandra, stood feet away from him, holding onto her governess' hand tightly. She was afraid of him, he could tell, and deep down, he could not blame her for fearing him.

"Come sit next to me," he said, smiling at the girl who narrowed her eyes at him. His heart ached to hold his daughter's hand, trace the light freckles on her cheek, knowing that in doing so, he'd be touching a part of Caroline. He needed it like he needed his next breath. But his daughter was just like her mother, stubborn and determined, as she resolutely shook her head and disappeared behind her governess.

"Why not?" he asked, burying the sudden pain and anger he felt at her rejection.

"Because," Cassandra said bravely, poking her head out from behind her caretaker's many skirts, "You killed mother."

His eyes widened as he felt his heart drop down to his gut, watching in horror as Cassandra gave him a look that screamed disappointment and bitterness, as her governess alternated between yelling at the child and apologizing to him. His daughter was ashamed of him, he could see it in her watery eyes, and he would never be her father, just the man who took her mother away.

Three truthful words and a look of pure disappointment from a child bought the weight of his decisions down on him. His hands may be clean, but his conscience never would. He might as well have tied the noose that took his Caroline's life. And that sent him spiraling down a deep abyss with no bottom.

He dreamt of her calling him. He dreamt of her pleading for his help, dreamt of her feeble, pained voice calling out for him. He dreamt of rushing to her aid, dreamt of find her injured and dying in her chambers. He dreamt of saving her life, dreamt of holding her till she stopped crying. He dreamt of never letting her go.

When he awoke, he created a ruckus in the mansion. Breaking through every door and waking up all the residents. Like a possessed man, he screamed and howled at everything and everyone, yelling that Caroline was calling for him, insisting that he heard her, crying that she was hurt and begging them to find her for him. He searched for her for hours and hours, but to no avail.

When he finally slept that night, on the cold floor of his chambers, he did so truly believing that he had killed her yet again.

And from that day onwards, the town had a new name for him. He was no longer The cruel and harsh King. He was now The Mad king. He saw Caroline everywhere, in every blonde woman on the street, every blue-eyed servant in the mansion. He saw her everywhere, he heard her everywhere, and he felt her everywhere. And he knew with every fiber of his being, that she was in pain, that she needed his help, that he could save her.

And every night, he dreamt of her calling out to him. And every night, like a mad-man he searched for her in every corner of the mansion, in every nook and cranny of the garden, every alley of every street, begging the world to give her back to him. But she never did.

She haunted him in his every waking and sleeping moment. Until the day he took his life in the same place she did.

A/N - I just wrote a drabble and have watched every klaroline scene ever, so if anyone has any requests hit me up!

[spacechip707]

I was just thinking the other day...if Seven was an agent, he would have scars and stuff from his field work, right? And I was wondering how MC would react when she saw them. Do you think you can write it for me? Can it included your signature fluff and kisses and all that too

That’s actually an interesting idea, and I think you’re definitely right. He would. I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted! Enjoy~

Scars were inevitable. MC knew this. Whether internal or external, everyone had them. Ultimately, they were a gift to form stronger, brighter souls that could only be culminated from the rigorous trial called life.

But he had so many of them…and she was sure that wasn’t fair.

Saeyoung remained ignorant of her wandering eyes as he continued to sleep peacefully on the loveseat. She hadn’t meant to stare, really. She was just passing by when the glimpse of a white jagged line peaked out from underneath his tank top. The one scar led to another…and to another until MC was practically creating new constellations with the faded marks.Her fingers followed her intrigue, tracing the silvery skin.

She wondered if they were from his time at the agency…or from his childhood. Both experiences were riddled with sorrow and pain–emotionally and physically. For some reason, the thought made her heart clench. It really wasn’t fair.

She was too lost in her thoughts to notice the glimpse of gold peeking out from under Saeyoung’s closed lids until it was too late. His hands darted out, grabbing her middle and flipping her onto the couch. She let out a small cry, tensing until he sandwiched her between him and the back of the seat.

His laughter almost sounded diabolical, and she shoved him back for good measure. “Saeyoung, that wasn’t funny!” she complained, pressing a hand over her pounding heart.

“It was sort of funny,” he countered, wiggling his hips victoriously. He tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes at her. “But more importantly, I believe I caught a little creeper. Why were you staring at me?”

Her cheeks burned under his sharp gaze, and despite the smirk curling his lips, she couldn’t share in his buoyancy. She tucked her hands under her head and shimmied further back into the sofa. He only inched forward in response. “I-I wasn’t staring,” she mumbled, finding great interest in the couch threads.

“No?” Saeyoung said with a tilt of his head. He propped himself on one elbow so he loomed above her. “From my calculations, a pair of gorgeous eyes were looking at me for exactly thirty seconds. That’s staring, sweetie.”

MC faltered under his accusations again, this time choosing to hide her face completely in the cushions underneath her. She didn’t realize he was awake that whole time.

His chest vibrated against her shoulder with a few more throaty chuckles. He prodded her side sharply. “No need to be shy. You were just enthralled by my cute sleeping face, right? The cutest you’ve seen?”

“No,” she shot back, finally surfacing and anchoring an angry glare at her cheery boyfriend. “Actually, you drool.”

She used the collar of his shirt to wipe his chin for emphasis. His features scrunched together in recoil, and MC begrudgingly acknowledged the pleasurable twinge in her chest. He was very cute when he slept…and when he was awake. Dang it, she smiled just now, didn’t she?

Saeyoung huffed, returning his attention to her. His playfulness tapered off, and his lips assumed a solemn frown. “Okay, but you didn’t answer my question. Why were you staring?”

MC shrugged, unwilling to bring up the topic. Saeyoung had been more open about his feelings, his thoughts, and even some parts of his past. But his childhood and the agency were practically off limits. She understood, really. Neither held many pleasant memories, and she would rather not reopen healing wounds. “Does it matter why? I like looking at your face.”

He raised a brow, obviously not convinced by her flirty attempts. “That would be fine if you weren’t in such a mood because of it.”

“I’m not in a mood,” she rolled her eyes. She hesitated under his persistent scrutiny. He wasn’t one to give up easily. He was a hacker accustomed to getting whatever information he wanted with just a few clicks. To conceal something from him was nearly impossible with his tenacity “It’s just…I never noticed your scars before.”

As she dreaded, his face fell. “Oh,” was all he said.

“You have a lot of them.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. His lips parted, releasing a few silent breaths before he laid back down onto the couch. “But there’s nothing I can do about them. So, I try not to dwell on it.”

MC wanted to slap herself as the light in his eyes diminished. It was replaced by a stormy gaze directed at the ceiling and raging with hundreds of thoughts she couldn’t decipher. She watched as he seemed to sink further and further into the turmoil, his fingers drumming against his knee as a testament.

She swallowed hard, her hand wavering over his shoulder. Before she could draw him out of his brooding, his head snapped towards hers. That tempest behind those golden irises was now aimed at her, and her heart trembled in the midst of it. It wasn’t full of ire or bitterness…but rather something more complicated and melancholy. A quiet breath entered his lips before he spoke again. “Do they bother you?”

MC retracted at the question. She wrangled with it briefly, but she couldn’t decode its meaning. “What? Why would your scars bother me?”

There it was again…that sadness. It was a rare visitor in the bright red-head, but MC hated when it appeared. “It’s not normal to have so many of them,” he went on slowly. “MC, do you ever wish ended up with a normal man who isn’t messed up and came with less…baggage?”

She wasn’t sure what hurt more. His statement or the dismissive laugh that followed. She hoisted herself up so she could stare down at him and that stupid, self-deprecating face. For a long while, there was no sound except her increasingly heavy breathing. He didn’t turn away from her blazing glare. She gave him every opportunity to take it back, but he didn’t.  

“No, I don’t wish that,” she said, finally shattering the quiet. “You’re not messed up, Choi Saeyoung, and if I ever hear you say that again, I’ll–I’ll–” she ended with a groan.

She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to gather her tumult of emotions into a single stream of coherent thought. “I don’t hate your scars. I hate the people who gave them to you. I hate that you had to endure so many of them alone. But despite all that, you still ended up being one of the most amazing, caring people I know. That doesn’t sound messed up to me.”

She leaned back against the couch, her energy and breath spent from the sudden rush. She bit down on her tongue when tears stung her eyes. She dashed them away, only to have a few more leak from their edges.

The couch shifted as Saeyoung sat up and scooted towards her. His warm fingers met the hollow under her eyes, and the pad of his thumb brushed against the tiny drops. Suddenly, MC felt very embarrassed and self-aware of her outburst. With reluctance, she lifted her gaze to his face, surprised to find his cheeks just as damp as hers. “Why are you crying?” she spluttered.

“Because you’re crying!” he returned with a watery chuckle. He brought his other hand up to cup her face. “I’m sorry. I just doubt myself sometimes…and if I’m really the best for you.”

MC rested her forehead against his, her lashes fluttering against his cheekbone. “Don’t,” she replied vehemently. “And if that silly little brain of yours tries to tell you otherwise, remember that I think you are the absolute best man for me. And I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

His eyes crinkled as features split into his signature grin. “Oh, you’re being cheesy now.”

She shoved his shoulder lightly, not missing the redness on his ears. “Shut up, you dummy.”

He sighed, though his lips remained in a soft smile. “I’m glad my scars don’t bother you, but…I hate them. They remind me of what I was and who I was, and sometimes I wish I could reset my brain and forget them altogether.”

MC bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers trailing down the rugged stripe on his collarbone that started it all. “I wish I could heal them for you if they cause you that much pain.”

“You can’t,” he said matter-of-factly. He pulled away and inhaled deeply. “You’ve helped me come to terms with my past, but the scars stay the same. It’s not like you have magic.”

MC quirked her head to the side, a mischievous spark dancing through her veins. She wiggled her fingers in front of his face. “Are you sure? Haven’t you heard of the magic of kisses?”

She didn’t allow him to comprehend her words before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his scar. His muscles tensed under her kiss, but he didn’t protest. She moved to his shoulder, where another lined his skin. Again, she brushed another kiss against it, this time eliciting a shudder. She continued her ministrations, pouring as much tenderness as she could into the soft caress of her lips. She understood how reality worked, but if she wondered if she wished hard enough, maybe they would actually disappear.

She finished on his cheek where the faintest of scratches hid on his reddened skin. She traced a finger down his jawline, and a small gasp escaped his mouth. He stared down at her with half-lidded eyes, and she swore she would die from the affection he adorned onto her. “They’re still there,” MC said with a click of her tongue. “I guess I don’t have magic after all. I’m sorry.”

Her words were weighted with something more than the light-hearted act. She hoped he felt it.

Saeyoung’s hands slid around her waist, his fingers drawing small circles on her side as he drew her closer to himself. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. His mouth barely brushed against hers, but she found herself irrationally breathless at the contact. “I think you’ve completely bewitched me.”

Just like that, the heavy atmosphere broke for good. For once, MC was glad for it.

“Now who’s being cheesy,” she snorted, still trying to subdue her racing heart.

He joined in her laughter, embracing her fully before tumbling to his side and dragging her with him. “Maybe because I’m sleepy. After all, there was a little creeper who interrupted my nap.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she conceded. She snuggled into the crook of his, finding the familiar comfort of his arms. “And, Saeyoung?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, already half asleep.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” she said. “Scars and all.”

His only response was to hold her a bit tighter. But in that simple gesture, he delivered an entire speech. He wanted someone to accept the parts of him even he couldn’t embrace yet. MC knew that too. And she would do so as many times as he would let her.

[swanandapirate]

face it alone (in the heart of the winter) (1/2)

Happy holidays to the lovely @ahsagitarius ! I loved getting to know you and discovering all of the things we have in common, but I’m also very happy I can finally leave the shadows of anonymity. To celebrate this joyous event, I wrote you a fic! It’s a combination of the things you love the most (part one is a teeny bit angsty, sorry about that) and I hope you’ll like the fic itself too. ♥

summary: They’d always told her she had inherited her mother’s intelligence and her father’s wit, but when Isa Elizabeth Jones somehow accidentally ended up in the past, she felt anything but smart and far from making a clever remark about it. She needed to get back to the future as soon as possible. Oh, and preferably without her parents in the past finding out who she really was.

~3,700 words / rating: T for some swearing

 ao3 // ff.net (link now added)

Title taken from the oh so beautiful Glacier by James Vincent McMorrow

(Note: The storyline of S7 is not mentioned in this fic, there is one small reference, but besides that this fic does not contain anything to confirm or deny the events of s7. It can be seen as both canon-compliant and canon divergent. To keep it simple for this story: CS’s kid was born about two years after Zelena had baby Robin.)

On December 20th of the year—well she wasn’t really sure of the year—Isa Elizabeth Jones knew she had thoroughly fucked up. She knew her parents would be livid when they found out she had thoroughly fucked up, and even more so when they discovered she was also swearing like the sailor her father was.

It was safe to say this was all a big mistake. It wasn’t her plan to end up in the past; it wasn’t even the plan to end up anywhere at all. She simply wanted to spend her time doing things that were less boring than an uptight town Christmas dinner her grandmother had organized and where everyone was making awkward small talk. So, when her cousin Robin—who wasn’t really her cousin but Isa had lost track of who was related to whom years ago, so Robin was just that— had texted her, asking if she wanted to get out of Storybrooke Hall, Isa’s reply was an all-caps yes.

After having told her dad she had forgotten something at home and after innocently smiling while he had eyed her and nodded his consent, Isa had disappeared to the location Robin had told her to meet. She recognized the place, a rooftop with a view of the clock tower, from her parents’ wedding pictures. It had brought a soft smile to her face as she could imagine them standing before her, her mom in white, Dad in all black saying I do and starting a new journey, beginning their adventure of being husband and wife to eventually become a mother and father to her.

Robin had shouted to catch her attention again and had smirked as she proposed to practice their magic. Isa should’ve said no, should’ve said that they were only allowed to with their moms or aunts present but she hadn’t and her purple flash had clashed with Robin’s green shimmer and then something else she couldn’t quite discern was added, rendering the flux of magic dangerous, almost dominant and threatening in how it had swirled around them. The hairs on her arms stood erect and in a flash, a split second of distraction, she was gone.

And had ended up here.

The past.

Fuck.

One might wonder how exactly Isa knew it was the past. Storybrooke was, even in the future, a dormant town, change taking place so slowly that it hardly felt anything was indeed different. Well, the first thing that struck her as odd was that before the appearance of the ominous magic, it was evening and now it was not, the sky grey but light and the streets bustling with movement. The second thing was the people; how much they might’ve desired it, they weren’t immune to the effects of time.

The first person she had run into after she’d left the now empty rooftop and ventured onto the Storybrooke streets was Aurora, the owner of the clothing shop she frequented, and who simply walked past her as if she didn’t exist. Isa was about to turn around, to indignantly shout when she noticed her hair was not in its usual bun, flowing freely in the wind, and that she wasn’t wearing her pair of trendy designer glasses that were normally glued to her nose.

When only two minutes later the exact same thing happened but with Sneezy this time, Isa had figured it all out.

But what she was supposed to next was still a big mystery.

A shiver ran up her arms, the dark green dress a perfect match to her eyes but not to the December cold.

Isa gravitated, furiously rubbing her hands over the bare skin to create some kind of heat inducing friction, towards the warmest spot she knew, both actual heat and the kindness and spirit of the place frequenting it: Granny’s.

The bell chimed as she hesitantly opened the door. She’d done it a million times before but now she could not predict what would lie beyond it, what faces would greet her and how they would look at her.

In contrary to what she expected, Granny’s’ patrons seemed undisturbed by her entrance, still vividly conversing and enjoying their food, not even granting her a glance. Eyes cast downwards, Isa searched an empty spot, a corner where no one could question who she was or why she was wearing almost no clothes in the heart of winter.

It didn’t stop someone from approaching, the footsteps growing in sound as she shrunk more into her seat.

“Are you okay?” the person said, the voice so familiar that Isa couldn’t help herself from looking up.

The pixie cut was still pitch black, not a trace of silver streaks. They had the same eyes, the same green, hazel irises all of the women of their family had. Those were the eyes staring at her but they lacked the soft crinkles around the edges Isa had grown used to.

Her grandmother was supposed to be young but not this young.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you,” was her answer to wave away any concerns and any mandatory conversations. It was better not to risk anything.

“You look a bit cold, that’s all,” Snow attempted again and Isa knew she would persist. It was Snow White she was talking about, that is.

“A little bit,” she admitted, her eyes slowly daring to meet her grandmother’s again. “I forgot my coat at home and I can’t go and get it.”

“Well, sweetie, if you want I can give you one of mine? Ever since my son was born, I keep a spare one in the car, it doesn’t take a lot of being spit upon to learn.”

Did that mean that Neal was still a baby? That would be inexplicably weird. Neal was her fun uncle that was allowed to do more stuff than her fifteen-year-old-self was and who took her on adventures and now he was just a baby—a puking one to be exact.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Snow continued to talk, misinterpreting Isa’s musing silence as hesitance. “The pullover is clean, Neal has outgrown the stage of randomly puking, thank god.”

The bright eyes continued to stare at her, patiently waiting for an affirmative nod to appear so Snow could be set into motion to go retrieve the pullover. It was giving her nerves, because Isa knew what she wanted to reply and she knew what her grandmother wanted her to reply, but she also shouldn’t reply that exact thing because it would lead to involvement and more questions and she hadn’t even figured out in what year she was or why she ended up here.

Ugh. Being stuck in the past was all very inconvenient.

Pinching her hands together, Isa worriedly nibbled on her lower lip, her tongue immediately soothing the small dents in the flesh. She needed to give an answer now.

“That would be great.”

Snow immediately smiled and put her hand on Isa’s bare shoulder. She gently squeezed, another warm gesture towards someone who, even if they shared the same genes, was a complete stranger to her.

“I’ll be right back,” Snow reassured before walking away, turning towards Granny and telling her something Isa couldn’t understand, but Granny did as she resolutely nodded. The bell announced that her grandmother had left and it took only one worrying minute before a steaming cup of hot chocolate was set in front of her by Granny herself, the elderly lady smiling as she watched Isa’s eyes widen at the sight of the cup.

“Enjoy it, girl,” she said, peering down through the half-moon glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “On the house. I like people who can appreciate a cup of hot chocolate.”

Isa could, believe her. She was her mother’s daughter, after all.

She dared to take a first hesitant sip from the mug but the beverage was still too hot, sending pain through the tip of her tongue and as she gave her tongue the time to recover, Snow walked back in, a grey pullover in her hands.

“Here you go,” she presented the piece of clothing with pride. Isa accepted it, not having any choice but to, and let the fabric slide along her arms as she put it on. She brushed her dark locks away in order for them to land on the collar of the sweater.

Snow went to sit across from her, a determined air about her and Isa knew it meant trouble. Time for her poker face. She was lucky her grandmother didn’t have the same superpower as her mother did or she’d be royally screwed.

“I haven’t seen you around town before,” Snow stated, her eyes narrowing and her head tilting as if she was assessing Isa’s whole being in addition to her presence at Granny’s.

“I’m just visiting,” she replied. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug that hopefully conveyed some sort of innocence.

“Alone?”

This was the question she was dreading. She couldn’t exactly tell her that she was indeed alone but that her family was both here and in the future, but they simply didn’t know yet now.

“Umm, so… If we’re being technical, then yes, I came here alone,” Isa admitted. “If we’re not, then… I still came here alone. But I’m in search of some people and finding them would not make me alone anymore, so that would solve my problem.”

After that very terrible answer, Isa decided to take a sip of her cooled down hot chocolate, hiding behind the mug and mountain of whipped cream. She had no way of anticipating what her grandmother would reply, so it was an anxious wait for some kind of reaction—a laugh, a scoff, anything would be better than this stretching silence.

“Well, if that’s the case, it’s your lucky day. My family is experts in finding people. If you want, we can go to the sheriff’s station and start your search there.”

The sheriff’s station would be a bad place to start her research because one: her problem was created with magic so there should be a magical solution as well and she wouldn’t find that at the station, the vault at the graveyard was a more valuable starting point. And two: there were two people who she would most likely run into and Isa would love to avoid that particular encounter.

-/-

As Snow showed her all of the Storybrooke sights, pointing at certain buildings and providing Isa with backstories, she could do nothing but nod. She knew all of the stories, what every building’s use was. She’d grown up here, ran along the streets while racing her Dad, fell on the concrete as her mom was teaching her to ride a bike. This was her town and yet it wasn’t.

“Here we are.”

They stopped in front of the familiar building and Isa hugged herself in both an attempt to get warmer and to prepare herself for what would take place.

“My husband and daughter are the sheriffs here so I’m certain they’ll be able to help,” Snow granted some reassurance, seeing the nerves in Isa’s posture.

Opening the door, Snow extended her hand, letting Isa lead the way. Politely, she smiled in gratitude, doing her best to not let the smile transform into a grimace.

“Emma? David? Are you here?” Snow yelled as they walked towards the office. Isa closed her eyes and wished that no answer would sound through the hallway, that it would stay quiet and they would have to return without any progress.

“I’m here, Mom,” was the reply.

Isa flinched but still continued to approach the source of the voice, her grandmother following closely.

And there she was. Mom.

She closed a file, her golden hair swishing as she turned on the chair to face them.

“Hey,” Emma said and smiled, an aura of light surrounding her. Her eyes curiously darted towards Isa, who was avoiding them with might and main.

“Hi, Emma.” Snow smiled back and looked back to Isa. “This is my daughter Emma. Emma, this is …” she halted as she realized she had no idea what Isa was called.

Isa couldn’t tell them her real name. There were too many risks tied to that. But in the stress of the situation, the adjusting her brain had to do, it couldn’t come up with a name. Every name she’d ever heard vanished from her mind and the only thing she could remember was hers: Isa Elizabeth Jones.

She needed to say something, this silence was becoming way too long and suspicious, Snow’s hand still hanging in the air as she gestured towards Isa.

“E- Elizabeth,” she stammered, hoping that it didn’t come out as uncertain as she felt.

“Elizabeth,” Snow finally finished her sentence. “Elizabeth is in search of some people but she hasn’t found them yet and I thought you might be able to help.”

“Is that so?” Emma questioned, a strange tone to her voice that surprised Isa, making her accidentally meet her mother’s eyes.

She stared and stared, she couldn’t seem to be able to pull her gaze away. It wasn’t that her mom had changed a lot over this past decade—an estimate on Isa’s part—nothing more than her blonde hair still being long instead of the short hairdo she had in the future and the other small things she’d noticed while looking at her grandmother. It was simply her whole being. It was as if there was a whole other air to her.

“I know what you’re thinking,” her mom said and for a second, Isa wanted her to really know what she was thinking. That her superpower was more than just spotting lies, that her magic extended further than the Savior's power. Emma couldn’t know what she was thinking.  “It’s weird that my mom and I look the same age, but that’s a really long story.” An apologetic smile and shrug followed, telling Isa Emma wouldn’t tell the story and she was just supposed to accept that fact of life.

Understandable, you couldn’t tell a stranger about curses and magic and a fairytale land.

“That’s fine.”

She already knew all of it.

“I need to go get Neal,” Snow announced, her watch revealed by pushing the white sleeve of her shirt out of the way. “Emma, could you try and help Elizabeth?”

“Sure, Mom. Could I have a quick moment with you before you go?” Out of the corner of her eye, Emma subtly stared at Isa, but Isa knew her mom. She wanted to discuss her presence without her presence.

“Can I go to the bathroom, please?” Isa was giving them an out, an excuse to talk about her without having to send her away. She’d rather not know what they would discuss.

“Sure, sweetie. It’s right in the hallway.”

She could feel them waiting until she’d left the room before beginning to talk and it brought an unsettling feeling to her stomach.

Isa sat down on the closed toilet seat, running her hands through her hair, combing the brown locks to distract herself from the situation. It was a nervous tic she had; it was like how her dad scratched the back of his head when he felt embarrassed or stressed, she’d inherited that too.

After what she felt was a respectable amount of time spent on the toilet, Isa stood up, unlocking the door with one click and straightening her dress. Her lungs expanded as she inhaled, a feeble attempt to prepare herself for the conversation to follow.

The office was empty when she walked towards it, but after scanning the rest of the room, Isa saw her mother sitting on the couch that stood against the wall, a Pop Tart and a can of soda on the table in front of her. Isa could see through the supposed act of kindness, through the soft smile on Emma’s lips. It was a way to gain her trust, to let her acclimatize to the strange setting. It was a subtle approach to bribe her for information so Emma herself could trust this strange girl sitting in her office. She couldn’t hold it against her mom, however. She was impressed, even. It would’ve worked with any other kid, food was always the way to go, but Isa knew too much, had too much to protect to fall for it.

Shit, she was in charge of the future. That seemed like a very unwise responsibility for a fifteen-year-old to have.

She sat down on the opposite side of the couch, leaving enough space between the both of them, and stared at her hands curling around her knees. In the background, she could see the Pop Tart and soda moving on the table, being pushed closer to her for easier access.

Some food wouldn’t be so bad, to be honest. Her last meal was the appetizers at the Christmas dinner and that was a couple of hours ago. And a couple of years in the future even though that was actually in the past for her. Wow, timelines were confusing. Maybe the traveling back counted as more hours, did time traveling magic have that effect? She’d probably be hungrier if it did because a more than a decade was a long time. Giving up on attempting to understand, she grabbed the Pop Tart and took a bite.

“So…” Emma began speaking, “You wanna tell me who exactly it is you’re looking for?”

Like she expected. Bribe.

But it was working. Isa felt guilty about giving her mother the silence treatment after having received provision. Lying wasn’t an option either because her mother had a freaking superpower that not only ruined all of Isa’s sneaking out but also her valiant attempt of preserving the future.

Man, she just loved her life.

Swallowing the last bit of strawberry, Isa licked her lips and decided to tell the truth but also to be vague enough about it.

“Let’s say that I’m looking for my parents.”

“And that’s the truth?” Emma questioned, her blonde eyebrows rising.

“Yup.” Isa’s lips plopped as she answered.

Something seemed to shift in her mother’s conduct, moving from wary to understanding, her eyes softening and shoulders losing their tension.

“I know how it feels.” she said quietly, “You know, I was an orphan too. Abandoned on the side of the road and I searched so long for my parents. All orphans do it, thinking their parents must’ve had a good reason for abandoning them, that maybe it was all a misunderstanding.”

Isa couldn’t hear more. Her parents hadn’t abandoned her. They were probably madly searching for her after she’d disappeared. She’d left her parents who both had both been abandoned by the people who they loved most and had lost their loved ones. All because she was bored at dinner.

“I’m not an orphan!” she yelled, the emotions overcoming her and causing an outburst that interrupted the story.  Her mother had a shocked expression about her and Isa immediately felt guilty. She was only trying to help, trying to soothe a lonely child by baring her own troubled past. “Look, I’m sorry,” Isa apologized, having regained her grip on her temper but the tears gathering in the edges of her eyes nonetheless. “I know who my parents are, I just don’t know how to get back to them.”

And she needed to. As quickly as possible.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Her mother moved closer, gently rubbing Isa’s shoulder in a soothing gesture.

Her hands were fiddling with the hem of the grey cardigan that smelled exactly like her grandmother did.

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head and the motion caused a tear to fall down that she immediately wiped away again. “I truly appreciate what you and Gra- your mother have already done.”

She furiously rubbed her eyes, trying to chase away the tears and to find her strength again. She could do this. She was the daughter of Captain Hook and the Savior, for god’s sake.  She was born with perseverance and resilience, she was brought up with love and wisdom. This was her moment to show her parents they deserved to be proud of her. This was her moment to show she was part of her family of heroes.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“No.” Her head moved from left to right another time. “But I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Perseverance and resilience.

Her mother didn’t agree with that apparently.

“Elizabeth, it’s winter and dark. You’re not going to stay outside,” she said, her words final and not to be contradicted. Exactly how her future self would announce Isa was punished for doing something she wasn’t allowed to. “Look, you seem like a really great kid and I think your parents must miss you a lot so I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find them. Right now, though, my priority is getting you somewhere warm and safe, getting you some warmer clothes and giving you a place to sleep.”

She silently challenged Isa to disagree but how on earth could she be against any of those things? Warmth, sleep, food, those were all positive words in Isa’s dictionary. She nodded, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. Her fingers caught it and brushed it behind her ear.

“Would you be alright with coming home with me tonight? There’s room enough in my house. You can pick a room, take a shower, eat something warm.”

She could sleep in a familiar place, in her home, with the people she loved the most near her. Even if she didn’t have her parents, at least she had some version of them. She could rest and then go in search of a solution with a fresh mind. In the end, the joint power of the pros outweighed the one big con (WHAT IF SHE ACCIDENTALLY TOLD THEM WHO SHE WAS)

“That sounds great,” she said honestly.

“Perfect.” Emma stood up and grabbed her coat, extinguishing the lights in the station as she locked everything to prepare for her departure.  “I think you’re going to like my husband Killian. You remind me a bit of him.”

Well, fuck.

 A/N: Poor, poor Isa. Part two is (hopefully) coming soon and involves lots of family fluff, lots of Isa worrying about the future and lots of swearing (because how would you be in such a situation) Perhaps someone might figure her secret out, oooooh.