Rogue bounced up the granite steps of the public library of Bayville and looked around surreptitiously before ducking through the doors.

In the danger room session earlier that morning she had absorbed Jean, and in the split second of grappling with a sudden download of memories, feelings and powers, while trying to stay alive in whichever new attempt at world domination they were theoretically combatting, she had suddenly become keenly aware of Scott. Everything moved in slow-motion, as she just kept looking at him.

And she recognized this feeling, it was familiar. She had completely forgotten about it until now, and even when she felt it before, hadn't examined it too closely, but she realized now. It was a crush. She suddenly had a crush on Scott, and she vaguely remembered that she had had one before, this odd, sort of helplessly attracted feeling. In a detached sort of way she thought to herself, this was odd, you know, because Scott really wasn't her type. And she recognized that the deeper feelings she had for him, had always had for him, were a platonic sort of admiration.

So.

She lunged at Scott. "What are you do—" someone shouted at her but Rogue pretended not to hear.

Seconds after absorbing Scott, still bathing in the feeling of accomplishment that came with figuring out something that annoyed her, she realized why she so rarely ever absorbed Scott, and why Jean's presence in her mind was so much stronger. Because of the uncontrollable lasers shooting out of his eyes. This came to her as she stumbled around half blind, taking out everything around her. She couldn't really tell if she had seriously injured any of her teammates, but any time she glanced around to see, the screaming intensified.

The psyches settled down nicely next to each other in her mind, and the foreign feelings abated. She felt accomplished. She felt even more accomplished when she was able to get the two psyches to bow out of the forefront of her mind altogether.

And her day had opened up nicely when the danger room session ended early.

Now at the library, she burst through the front doors, ready to throw herself into the quiet joy and sanctity of the quiet space, and more importantly, capitalize on the time she had here before she was dragged back to reality. You get kidnapped a few times and suddenly you had no time to yourself.

Remy dodged by a woman with three kids and a stroller. Libraries were so crowded on Saturdays. He did a double take. There was a certain stripy-haired head he recognized, strolling between the aisles. He instantly dove behind a conveniently placed shelf of books, peaking back over the top to…. observe.

She didn't seem to be actively searching for a book on the shelves, more like taking in the air as one might in a museum, or a field of flowers.

The conveniently placed shelf of books suddenly started to roll away from him. He glanced at the opposite end of the shelf to see a library employee looking quizzically back at him. The employee shrugged, said, "Sorry," and continued tugging the shelf somewhere else.

Remy, still crouched, watched the shelf wheel away from him for a moment before looking back at Rogue. He froze.

She had already glanced over and spotted him.

He was wearing dark sunglasses and regular clothing but he knew. She recognized him. And he knew that she knew he knew she'd recognized him.

They stared at each other. The moment stretched on, beyond the point at which they could pretend not to have seen each other. Remy stood up straight and sort of put out a foot, starting a motion that could turn his body away from hers.

Rogue turned her body toward him fully and crossed her arms.

His foot went back to facing her.

She tipped her head a little to the right and Remy could suddenly see a kind of dip in her cheek, right by the corner of her mouth. Dimples?

"You're not here to kidnap me again, are you?" She called out to him.

Remy shot a look at a few freshly curious passersby who had paused to glance over. He smiled dismissively yet still disarmingly at them, then took a few quick strides toward Rogue until he was about arm's length away.

"'Cause if you are," At least she lowered her voice when he got closer, "I was given this whistle to use, lemme find it…" Rogue started patting herself down over her pockets.

Remy took a deep breath. He was ready for this moment, he had a couple things to say to her.

She pulled out a silver whistle that looked strangely powerful and brought it to her lips.

"Don't use a whistle in a library!" What did he mean to say?

"Why not, where else am I gonna use it?" She said, pausing.

"When you're in an open field, or rounding up cattle," Oh well, he thought. Might as well see where this takes us.

Rogue just looked up at him. "Should we move to an open field? Would that make you more comfortable?"

"No, Remy'd rather stay where there are witnesses, thanks." He crossed his arms and leaned against a shelf.

"We don't have to take Remy with us, he can stay here." Rogue used the whistle to gesture around the library.

"You can't leave Remy behind. It would hurt his feelings," Remy said back.

"You should let Remy speak for himself sometimes. Can't be good for his self-esteem to constantly have someone else talking about him." She pointed the whistle at him, "Tell Remy, real men don't hide behind other people."

"Remy's self-esteem is perfectly fine, and as a definitive real man, he appreciates your concern—"

"—I think Remy's compensating for something—"

"—Why are we talking about Remy so much?"

"—Worried he'll get an inflated ego? Might get a little hard to live with him?"

"I want to talk about Rogue."

Rogue stared at him blankly, "Who?"

Remy couldn't tell if she had honestly just forgotten her own name. "Really?" Remy raised his eyebrows, "Don't worry, I can fill you in."

"I think I could fill you in about Remy more than you could fill me in about Rogue," She said with a smirk and a cynical glint in her eye.

Hmm, Remy suddenly thought to himself. How many people have underestimated you and why do you put up with it? If Remy were a wiser man, he might think about that a little more in relation to himself. But it was one of Remy's strengths that he never thought too long or two deeply about anything.

Rogue idly bet some people in her mind that she could fill in quite a few others about themselves more than they could ever possibly know.

The people in her mind refused to take that bet.

"I bet Rogue has a lot of unexplored areas that Remy would be more than happy to explore with her." Remy said, leaning a tiny bit closer.

Rogue looked up at him straight on and leaned a little forward as well, with a small, concerned frown She stared at him for a good 40 seconds, unblinking. "Do you ever have to remind people that you are Remy? Or do you just occasionally gesture to yourself when you say 'Remy t'inks dis'? To remind them."

"Oh, nobody forgets who Remy is."

"Oh—?"

"A poker man and ladies' master!"… wait, had he reversed those two? Heh, no difference. Wait, maybe there is a difference… should he correct himself? Is it obvious what he meant? Is the gap between what he said and what he meant obvious?

Rogue was looking at him with a smirk that wasn't really obvious around her mouth but more in her eyes.

She was silent. Then, "So there is some confusion."

This girl. Sarcastic and perceptive.

"Not by Remy." Remy said with aplomb, deciding to gloss over whatever just happened. "He knows who he is."

"A ladies' master?"

"…Yes."

"Who are these ladies?"

Remy spread his arms wide to indicate the people around them, the entire library, the city and, by extension, the world.

Rogue didn't look convinced. "Those women over there?" She pointed to the mother of a three-year-old girl and a somewhat elderly librarian.

"Those are some of them, yes."

"Huh." Rogue grunted. "What about them?" She pointed to some girls who looked about twelve.

"Them, too."

"And them?" She pointed to two women who were holding hands and, just as Remy turned to look at them, kissed each other on the lips before walking off in opposite directions.

Remy turned back to Rogue, who was waiting for an answer. "Yes." He told her definitively, not even sure what he was answering anymore.

Piotr Rasputin nervously fidgeted with the business card in his left hand, listening to the phone ring on the other end of the line in his right. When he heard someone pick up he stood up from leaning against the wall, pushing his shoulders back.

"Hello," He spoke with barely any Russian accent. "I'm calling to speak with Professor Xavier. He told me to call at this time… Sure, I'll hold… Ok, thanks."

Piotr took a few steps toward the corner of the building he was standing against and glanced around, keeping the phone against his ear.

"Hello! Yes, professor… I'm calling… yes…. I would like to…Thank you, um, for this opportunity….. I really appreciate it…..uh, yes, I'm staying with a friend in the area."

"Well now, people are surprisingly sensitive."

"Was that even an official 'get out' or had we just offended that one librarian?"

"Hmm, don't know. It was hard to tell." Rogue gazed contemplatively at the library's façade from the sidewalk. "But I think that was the same librarian who kicked Kurt out for burping too loudly, so who knows what's going on with her."

Remy snorted, "Then I feel no guilt about what just happened."

"Ha! Like you feeling guilty was ever a threat."

Remy cocked his head and placed his hand on his heart. "It's been known to happen."

"Speaking of fast food, I'm hungry." Rogue said. She glanced around the street.

"We were speaking of fast food?"

"When I mentioned Kurt." She said.

"Ohh, right yeah, of course. Obviously." Remy nodded understandingly.

"That way." Rogue pointed down the street and they walked off together.

Contrary to popular belief, Rogue really wasn't as sensitive as everyone thought she was. She had pride, but she wasn't self-important. She wasn't like her mother, she didn't have a psychotic and almost fascist need to exact vengeance on everyone. She wasn't going to cut off her nose to spite her face. Well, she could and she might, but it wasn't likely. Today. It was more likely that she would end up cutting off other people's noses for completely valid reasons, which may only be known to her. That said, she really didn't think she was any more angry than anyone else. And she resented the implication otherwise because that meant that other people didn't think she had a clear head, which she did, by the way. She had a very clear head, filled with other people's thoughts. A large pool of inspiration to draw from, if you will. A deep one. A glacial lake maybe? And most of those people operated on the less lawful side of the… law.

Was that Rogue's fault?

The people in Rogue's head didn't think so.

The point is that Rogue wasn't too disturbed about getting kidnapped by Remy and dragged to Louisiana, because in the grand scheme of things, there's worse that could have happened. It could have been her mother.

She could tell that since running into him in the library, he'd been working up to something in his mind. She suspected it was about the whole kidnapping debacle of last spring, and while she wouldn't mind an apology, he seemed to be having some difficulty in that regard. That was fine though, she didn't really need him to force himself. Rogue was really more concerned with other things and she'd found herself thinking more and more about events that she'd been a little too distracted at the time to examine closely.

And now, as she sat across from him in the fast food joint they'd wandered into, she suddenly wanted to ask him about it. She gestured with some French fries to get him to look up at her.

"Ok, so whatever about the kidnapping. But the other stuff? With Magneto? When we were captured by pseudo-scientists and taken to Area 51? What about that?"

Remy looked at her sharply but continued chewing, then swallowed carefully. He was good, Rogue conceded. Barely a reaction.

He didn't take another bite of food but examined the tabletop for a quiet minute. Then he looked up inquiringly at Rogue.

Rogue sucked on her straw, coming to the end of her shake. "I just don't get why anyone would follow along with Magneto's plans when you could see where they were going."

"I couldn't see where they were going, we had no idea you guys were going to get captured!" He said emphatically. "You have no idea what it's like to be put in that position. It's—"

Rogue let out a bitter laugh that stopped Remy from saying more. "Excuse me, but you have no idea who I am, what I've been through or done. Regardless of your semi-regular stalking."

"Observing. And if you mean my kidnapping –"

"I do not, I am not referring, in any way, to your kidnapping me. That is something completely different, because you weren't following Magneto's orders when you did that."

She gazed at him steadily. From only two-ish feet away, Remy found himself examining her actual expression under the excessive make-up, which was sort of a novel experience, considering he mostly only… observed… her from afar.

"How did you even end up with Magneto to begin with? I mean, I get that you kinda needed to get away from your family for a bit, but why Magneto?"

"Magneto was familiar with my work and offered me a long term position that would justify my reason for staying away. It was a good opportunity."

"That wasn't what I was asking. I bet there were a number of long-term jobs you could have taken. Less…. open political statement ones. Unless you liked the political message Magneto was peddling."

Remy suddenly realized that Rogue was actually a somewhat good interrogator. She looked at him with a blank, calmly expectant expression that seemed to subtly increase the pressure he felt to answer her questions. Also, she made him want to talk out loud. Rogue usually never looked completely engrossed in anything, she went around with a faintly distracted or blank expression on her face. So when she focused completely on Remy and expressed actual curiosity, he couldn't resist responding. That was the only way he could justify finding himself answering her questions…

They had long since consumed all their food and outside the plate glass windows, the light had changed to late afternoon.

"So you've been here for recent events, that doesn't give you any right to think that your life has been harder or more polarizing than anyone else's." She gave him a hard and steady look. "Your eyes don't give you any excuse for doing or not doing something."

Remy scoffed a little, "…Growing up, alone, with my eyes—"

"My brother is blue and has a prehensile tail." She cut him off.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence. Remy sighed.

"Look, I didn't have other mutants around when I was young or in my family. And my family only took me in because of some prophecy with my eyes."

"…what?"

"There's this old book that the thieves and assassins….. live by, and in that book there was some prediction about a thief with devil eyes. That's me."

"…How old was this book?"

"Old. Hundreds of years." He said emphatically.

Rogue laughed, "Sure, it was you." She rolled her eyes and laughed again. His face was just so damn solemn.

"You're doubting the prophecy? Really? Out of all the things we see every day, all the things we know are possible but that the world says are impossible, you don't think people can see the future?" He may have been getting a little angry.

Rogue held up her hands to mollify him, but still had some cynical mirth in her eye. "I'm not doubting the prophecy or even people's ability to see the future. Hey, I grew up with a woman called Destiny, who could see the…. future. I just doubt that prophecy was actually about you."

"I'm the only one with these eyes!"

Rogue paused and looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

He kept going, "How is it that in the exact place there's this prophecy an orphan pops up with the eyes the prophecy describes—?" He asked her rhetorically, tipping his glasses to stare at her intensely.

"Ooohh, the prophecy, the prophecy," Rogue mocked. "I can't believe in today's age of the stock market, insider trading, and things like statistics, people are still using words like 'the prophecy,' like it's supposed to have some kind of weight. That is pure extrapolation." She ate a cold fry.

"That may be with a different audience but 'prophecy' where I come from means tradition and people there like tradition."

"Hmm, cuz it makes them more likely to stay in old, restrictive institutions, like guilds?" She leaned forward in her seat. "Makes them less likely to question long held beliefs? More likely to keep the status, as they say, quo?"

Now she was staring at him intensely. He'd expected more scorn and sarcasm.

Instead, she was looking at him like she wanted to say something, but she didn't really know how to say it.

"What?" He asked her.

She sighed and sort of looked around the fast food joint for a second before looking back at him.

"Your eyes are rare." She paused, "But they're probably a lot less unique than you think... if you think you're the only one who's got them." She said in a completely unenlightening way.

Remy just stared at her with what someone who played poker might call a game face. She glanced into her shake, confirming it was empty. "Especially for the area you're from." She looked back at Remy, who hadn't moved at all and as far as she could tell, kept staring at her through his dark glasses.

"What's really unique," She said, attempting some levity (not her specialty), "Is the combination of your eyes and your kinetic charging ability. Now, normally your eyes would be paired with…" She waved her hand, "Different skills."

Remy remained completely still.

"Did I say now? I meant in the past, when there were more people with eyes like yours in the Louisiana bayou area…. Probably around the time that old book you keep bringing up was written."

Remy tipped his head to the side ever so slightly.

Rogue considered him. "Did you really think that you were the only one to ever have those eyes?"

He stared at her. Yes.

"There's no such thing as originality, only authenticity." She said. "Haven't you ever heard that before? A jazz musician told me that once. There's nothing new in this world."

No, a jazz musician told me that once before, a voice in her head corrected.

Honestly, she thought, same thing.

He seemed to be frowning at her now. Hmm, maybe some clarification….

"Have you ever heard about the mutant history of Louisiana?" But as soon as she said it, she realized her mistake, "Oh, wait never mind, probably not…..Uh… sooo, what do you know about genetics?"

He raised his eyebrows silently.

Quietly, to herself in her own mind, Rogue had to concede that there was something to be said about being partially raised by a fanatic mutant rights activist. Terrorist, someone else in her mind corrected. She gave a mental shrug. Same thing.

She decided to start from left field and work her way in. "Ok, story time. So, there is a an island in the pacific where almost everyone is completely colorblind." Now he was just looking at her like she was saying a bunch of random, unconnected things. Whatever, she'd do what she normally did when people looked at her like that. Just keep swimming. "The condition is called complete achromatopsia and it's due to the total absence of working cones in the eye retinas, meaning that they only have rods – and remember cones see colors, rods see light. It's an autosomal recessive genetic disorder, it results from a mutation on a non-sex chromosome and is normally a super rare condition. But on this island, called Pingelap, way more people are affected or carriers. Like almost half the population. What caused this to happen on the island is not really relative, but just so you know, there was a typhoon in 1775 that only 20 people survived and just one of those people is believed to have been a carrier for this genetic mutation. By the sixth generation born after the typhoon, about 5% of the population had achromatopsia. Now achromatopsia makes sunlight and any bright light incredibly painful, so that people can barely open their eyes during the day and are basically blind. But in the dark, these people's eyes can pick up traces of light that the normal human eye would be unable to detect. Interestingly, what this island is known for is night fishing. What do you think about that story?"

He didn't say anything.

"You don't have achromatopsia, I'm just kind of circling a bush that I eventually plan on tackling. The gene for six fingers in humans is dominant, so why don't we have more six-fingered people walking around? We do have some, by the way, many of those people have just had the extra finger removed at birth. It's easy to have something removed before you're even aware of it, you know, like circumcision. But my point is, these people, the population of Pingelap and six-fingered people, aren't considered 'mutants' the way we are. But maybe they should be."

"Are you still circling that bush?" Sometimes, Remy had the odd urge to get angry about something that he couldn't really identify. He was trying to resist that urge now, specially cause he had a feeling that Rogue probably hadn't spoken this much in years. As in, all of the years put together.

"Ok, so we've accepted that there are different, specialized populations around the world, correct? And before colonization and all that, there were many thousands of years for these specializations to develop and be honed by population dynamics so that the best genes for the environment would be perfected over generations. Like people who live at high altitudes and make excellent runners. Not to confuse you with a flood of different examples, there's just so many to chose from that aren't even considered 'mutants.'"

"What's your point, Rogue?"

"Let's put what I just talked about on the backburner, while I bring up a new and seemingly unrelated anecdote about the Indian tribes of North America. In the last hundred and fifty years, many of them have been completely killed off through a combination of…. methods. Do you know about the Caddo? The Caddo had two words for people, either Caddo, meaning one of them, or 'Friend.' The Caddo lived around what we know today as Texas and Louisiana. 'Texas' is actually the Caddo word for 'friend.' Sadly the Caddo were almost completely wiped out by the Spanish and other colonizing forces, and only in recent years has it become known to the wider, whitewashed populations how many different tribes there once were in and around the Mississippi and in the American South. There were many and there were some who are completely gone, who no one alive today remembers. Perhaps that's what your prophecy book was waiting for. For no one to remember that a semi-legendary people with black and red eyes existed around the bayous of the Mississippi delta."

Rogue paused here and tried to gauge Remy's reaction.

Remy seemed to be spaced out, but was actually pondering the odds that he could have predicted suddenly having so many different things to feel angry about all at once, while also trying to figure out if he could take out his anger on the person sitting in front of him a little bit to make himself feel better. Honestly, that last one was giving him the most trouble. Would it be worth it? Would their budding …. 'friendship' survive? Would he survive, if he did? Hmm, probably not. Remy carefully kept his face devoid of the anger boiling inside of him.

"You look angry." Rogue observed from across the table.

"I'm not angry." He said.

"You're charging the table."

Remy quickly looked down and realized he'd been charging the table, and somehow unaware of it. He reabsorbed the charge.

"Don't worry," He said to Rogue, "I would have noticed eventually."

"Before or after it blew up?" She asked wryly, "And I wasn't too worried. They were probably more concerned than I was." She jerked her head in a direction over Remy's shoulder. He looked over and saw that about seven random strangers had stopped eating and were staring at them. Or the table. It was hard to tell.

"What say we blow this joint?" Rogue started crumpling up their mess into a giant paper ball, "But leave it standing, I mean."

"Yeah," Remy agreed. He mimicked her motions, not really recognizing his mostly finished fries before throwing them away and following Rogue out of the fast food place. They walked down the street together without saying anything until the corner, then Rogue turned and leaned against the brick. Remy again mimicked her motions, facing her.

"Anyway," Rogue sighed after studying him for a minute, "now I'm wondering if I should just point you in the direction to collect this information on your own, or if I should continue telling you….. this stuff."

"Not saying I believe you at all, you could have some undemonstrated talents for bullshit for all I know but what do you mean, there's more to say?"

"Well, I have some theories about how you got a charging kinetic ability and those eyes, but maybe I should let you figure it out. I've been so helpful already!" Rogue exclaimed, while thinking, must be the underlying personalities I absorbed earlier today…Jean and the boy scout and their damn helpful demeanors.

"What kind of bullshit cliffhanger statement was that? You have to tell me now."

Oh good, yeah, that's what I wanted to do anyway. "So, I think," Rogue continued, "That one of your parents would have had your eyes and been descended from this once well-known, now legendary and kind of mythical Indian tribe, and the other parent had to have had the kinetic ability, and judging from your looks, probably been of European descent. I know people have probably talked to you like you have one mutation, giving you those eyes and the kinetic charging, but I'm betting that the kinetic charging ability didn't develop until around puberty?"

Remy nodded.

"But you've always had the eyes, since birth."

He nodded again.

"I'm pretty sure that means you actually have two different abilities that are not linked to each other the way it seems everyone has assumed. That says to me that you inherited one from one parent and the other from the other parent."

"Can that actually happen?"

"Yeah, it happens all the time in mutant families. Look at Kurt, he got the blue from our mother and the teleporting from his biological father. It actually makes sense that you have two separate mutations if you think about it. You can't actually look at your explosions, right? They're too bright and your eyes are extremely sensitive to light. Those two genetic abilities indicate specialization for very different environments. How would it be possible for those two abilities to develop together?"

"That… seems to make sense." Remy said woodenly. And it kinda feels right, Remy thought to himself but didn't say out loud.

"However, if both your parents were mutants, the logical implication is that your parents actually knew each other and knew about each other's, shall we say, glaringly obvious unique traits. And the whole terrifying-your-mother-at-birth-with-your-eyes-and-thus-being-abandoned is probably not likely. The story of how you came to be where you came to be, living on the streets of New Orleans as a young child, is probably as tragic and painful, just in an unfamiliar way. And god, you know, there's nothing to shut off a child's natural curiosity about where they came from like the knowledge that their existence horrified their parents. And now that I hear about this mysterious book of prophecies, I doubt your meeting with the head of the thieves was any kind of accident. I bet he'd had his eye on you long before you noticed him." Rogue finished up casually. Even offhandedly. And damn, that made Remy mad.

"You mean, the thieves would want me, for what my eyes meant?" They were his family.

"They would want you for the other genetic traits and skills that typically accompany your eyes."

That was something else to think about, but anyway, "So you think they knew what I was? Or what I would be?"

"Well, no. I bet they didn't bank on that explosive charging ability," Rogue chuckled, "That might have surprised them a bit."

"Oh, they were surprised. Everyone was surprised." Remy muttered darkly.

They leaned against a brick building, side by side. As Remy silently thought about some stuff, Rogue watched the stars start to pop out in the darkest parts of the sky.

Rogue honestly couldn't understand where this urge to explain stuff to him was coming from, and she couldn't say she particularly enjoyed it. Was it really Jean? Is this what Jean was like, a loquacious know-it-all? This need for certain other people to know staff that kind of pertained to them and which they probably didn't know? Was it Auld Lang Syne? Good will towards man? She couldn't really say. Most of the time, she went around being underestimated and actually taking measures to continue people's low opinion of her. Except back in high school. She was getting out of that hellhole as soon as possible. She had done all four years in just two, opted not to walk, and managed to keep it all under the radar of basically everyone except Logan, her legal guardian (and father, technically speaking, although they never did speak about it) – who didn't care, and the professor. And she was pretty sure the professor told Hank certain things during times over the past year when Hank was convinced she was a psychopath. Now he just thought of her as some kind of high-functioning sociopath.

Which, she had to admit to herself, and some of the other people in her head, was not wholly inaccurate.

Rogue glanced over at Remy, who seemed to be done talking with her, and wondered if she was going to continue seeing him around. She gave a mental shrug and told herself it didn't really matter as he took a step back, nodded at her, turned and melted down a side street. She turned and headed back to the institute.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I'm sorry I haven't really thanked anyone before now – it's been on my List of Things To Do (circa 2017).

Yes, there is going to be more Rogue and Remy, and yes, John will make an appearance soon. Very soon.

Props to anyone who got any of the references, either in this latest chapter or in the previous chapters, to other fanfictions, TV shows, studies on genetics, or movies and bands from the 1970's. Pingelap is the island in the pacific, also sometimes known as the Island of the Colorblind, due to a 1997 Oliver Sacks book. Some of the things I said were true, some were made up.

If you're interested in a few of the fan fics I have taken particular inspiration from, take a gander to TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba's Blueverse series, Jaime Hook's stories, … Or really any of the favorite stories on my page.

Ah, god. Now I feel bad for not naming the rest of the 9ish authors of X-man fan fic I truly love, appreciate, and take inspiration from….

ok, here goes, in no particular order:

Demon Flame

Kinetically Charmed

Pirate Kit

Artimis's Liege

Some Scribbles

ElvenMuggle

Midnight Auroua

I was guessing when I typed "9ish" – but that was nine! A math genius, that's what I am.

Wait, I forgot Goldylokz. And Red Witch. And Amelia Glitter, Chellerbelle, and….goddamnit. Let's just call it a rotating collection of fabulous writers, some of whom need to get back on this site every once in a while.