#apologies if its been posted already — i have yet to see it on tumblr

[astrangetorpedo]

this is so djskalsadjsj

[eempyreall]

♪𝑂𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒♪

༺ The Past Follows ༻

Oneshot ~ Tokyo Revengers x Female Reader

Summary ~ You must pay your dues for leaving them.

Featuring ~ Sano Manjiro and Kurokawa Izana

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

“What is this?” You breathe out.

Your arms are tightened to your sides as your head hangs low. The rope wrapped around your upper body embeds into your skin—a bruised hue forming from its unyielding grip.

You sluggishly pull against the metal cuffs that keep your wrists constricted together. You huff in frustration as you drop your hands against your lap. Your knees are pressed together, your bare feet planted against the cemented, wet floor.

Your naked body trembles against the metal chair, your figure soaked with cold water dripping off your skin.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” you screech as you violently shake against the restraints.

You had been forced awake by a large wave of water. You search the spacious, dark room for the culprit. A flickering bulb is your only source of light.

You are confused by your surroundings. Questions appear in the space of your mind as your emotions become a chaotic swirl of anxiety and anger. Humiliation burns at the way you are forced to present yourself in this unknown setting.

The sound of footsteps grows louder the closer they get to your shivering form. They are slow, the figure taking their time to appear in front of your naked body.

The only sounds prominent are the slow footsteps echoing toward your shivering form and your ragged breathing. Your eyes widen as black shoes appear in your vision.

“Still drowning within your own rage, I see.”

That voice.

Your irises shift to the familiar male who has exposed his presence to you. Sharp eyes meet your gaze as your bewildered expression drops to a scowl. A grin stretches across the tanned male’s face, his arms hidden behind his back.

“Izana,” you hiss, hatred seething from your tone as you glare at the man. “Let me go, now.”

Fingers snatch your chin in a tight hold before his upper body bends down to your height. The corners of his mouth are still shaped upward, but you are familiar with the darkness that lurks under his guise.

“You’re the one tied down to a chair, and yet you think you can demand me to do anything?” he questions, bitterness dripping from his tone.

He releases his hold by shoving your face to the side before taking a step back.

You scoff as you watch him wipe the moisture off on his uniform.

“Why am I here? You already won. What else do you want?!” you exclaim in frustration.

“What else do I want?” he whispers to himself in mock contemplation, finger and thumb connecting with his chin. “Tell me, Y/n. What did I win?”

“Mikey, I can’t do this anymore,” you inform the blonde man who sits on the sofa in your living room with an arm slung over his propped knee.

His dark eyes shift to your own. You find the icy gaze as unrecognizable as the behavior you have recently witnessed.

“You’ve become a person that I want nothing to do with. You allowed your brother to change you.”

“What are you talking about?” he responds calmly, his expression unreadable.

“Ever since Izana came into the picture, you’ve become a completely different person. You cut off all our friends, you’ve associated yourself with the wrong crowd, and you’ve sunk deeper into the gang world. You’re dangerous, and I want no part of it,” you respond, your voice shaky as you ignore the lump in your throat.

You wonder what happened to your high school sweetheart. You understand that when people hit a certain age, a lot can change. However, this was not a normal condition.

Mikey has become cold, void of any emotions. He’s getting to know people who are associates of various drug cartels. You even overheard a conversation between him and Izana that indicated he has killed people recently. You can’t be involved with a murderer, no matter how much you care about him.

You knew that Izana was bad news when you first met him. He's always had a suspicious look to him. He was very secretive, snakelike as he slithered into your life.

The last straw was when you were completely drunk. The bedroom was pitch black. You thought you were making love to Mikey, but when you woke up the next day, you saw who the culprit was. Izana stood across from your sleeping form with a bare chest, leaning against your dresser. The smug look on his expression made you want to stab him.

You screamed, shouting and hitting him before rushing out of the room. You felt sick, violated. You wanted to scrub your skin raw.

When you told Mikey, you couldn't believe how indifferent he was to the situation. You could only stare at him in disbelief after he said, "Okay."

You questioned him and his sanity. You ranted about how crazy his brother is. You told him how Izana violated your boundaries and deceived you. You even grabbed Mikey's shoulders and shook him, tears streaming down your face in anger.

He only removed your hands before turning away. You watched as he walked out of the front door.

"He gave me permission, you know," Izana said from behind you. Your eyes widened as you turned back to him.

You didn't respond, staring into the empty space once Izana had walked back to the bedroom. For some reason, you believed him.

You knew you had lost Mikey. The man you had been with for years, since you were both in your youth, was a completely different person. This man... this man was sick.

Before you could walk off, your wrist was snatched, pulling you closer to the blonde.

The palms of his hands grasped your face as he held you with a look of intensity, desperation seeping through his words.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered, his pupils shrinking.

Your hands grabbed onto the back of his as you squeezed his skin.

"You let him violate me!" you cried. "You let him take you away from me! You allowed him to destroy everything we built-!"

"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," he growled with a scowl before throwing you back and releasing your face.

"You're sick, Manjiro! You need fucking help," you yell back, catching your balance after stumbling.

"Y/n..."

You watched as he sat on the couch, his back bent as he leaned over his legs.

"If you leave me..."

Your eyes widened, his expression blocked by the strands of hair covering his face as he eyed the floor.

He lifted his head, the look in his dark eyes penetrating your soul.

"I'll kill you."

"Don't fucking play stupid with me, Izana," you say through gritted teeth as you struggle against the restraints.

"Such choice words for someone who's tied to a chair," he chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Another pair of footsteps captures your attention as you look in the direction of a figure emerging from the darkness. You gasp when your eyes land on the man with slicked-back blonde hair.

"Mikey?"

The sound of a gun cocking echoes throughout the room as the barrel of the weapon presses against your head. Your eyes widen at the unfortunate circumstance.

"Guess you should've listened to his warning, hm? Running away with your tail between your legs wasn't such a good idea," Izana beams, while Mikey stares down at you with an expressionless gaze.

You feel your heart accelerating, the rhythmic thumps pounding in your ears. You take a deep breath and shut your eyes as you wait in anticipation.

"You're always so ready to disappear. You're not even trying to fight for your life."

Mikey's deep voice catches you off guard, and you open your eyes. You look up at him with a teary gaze.

"What's the point? You're fulfilling the promise you made," you say lowly, your voice shaky.

He only stares down at you in silence.

"Fortunately, we have a proposition for you, Y/n," Izana says as he walks closer to your figure.

You suddenly feel exposed under both pairs of eyes as you are forced to sit naked in place.

"Be ours..."

"..Or die."

“M—Mikey, please slow down!” You plead as tears stream down your face, the headboard rocking against the wall at a fast pace.

You hear deep breathing near your shoulder as you feel moisture form on your neck. You listen to his cries as his hips pistoned against yours. You could barely breathe as his arms tightened around your upper body, his cock penetrating your gushing pussy.

Your hands reach his shoulders as he pulls back, knees repositioning against the bed as his hands grasp your face. You stare wide-eyed at his teary gaze. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts harder, your eyes almost rolling in the back of your head as you feel the overwhelming intrusion.

“You left me,” he whispered, causing guilt to build in your chest.

“Y—you know I had to, M—Mikey,” you grunt.

“My name, Y/n. I wanna hear you say my name,” he groaned while his nails pierced your face, his grip tightening.

“M—Manjiro! Please slow down,” you cried.

“This is a result of his sorrow festering while you were gone. You should take responsibility,” Izana said as he climbed onto the bed.

Mikey’s hands release your face as he pulls your body up by your thighs, causing you to yelp in surprise. You grunt as Mikey detached his cock from you, passing you to Izana as tanned fingers grip under your thighs.

“Hold on! I never agreed to this!” You exclaim, your hands placed on Mikey’s shoulders for balance.

“Shut up and take your punishment,” Izana hissed near your ear just as the tip of his cock pierced your anal opening. You cry in agony as it stretches you uncomfortably.

“P—please, Izana!”

He pulls both of you back as he lies on the bed, lifting his hips to fit snugly into your ass. Mikey climbs in between your legs once more, leaning over your figure as he pressed himself against your vagina. You bite your bottom lip with your nose scrunched, eyes shut tightly as you breathe through the pressure from both of your inner walls.

Moments later, you couldn’t stop the cries that slipped from your mouth. The head of your former boyfriend’s cock beating against your g-spot, combining with the fullness of his brother’s cock protruding your ass. You curse as your eyes roll into the back of your head, saliva sliding down your chin as Izana whispers filthy words into your ear and Mikey gazes at you with lust-filled eyes.

Your body jolts as you release a gut clenching orgasm, your inner walls clenching around both men, causing them to fill you up with their semen, final grunts slipping from their mouths.

For the rest of the night, there wasn’t a moment for you to breathe. They fucked you, mercilessly. They used your body even when you were knocked out. They used you even when you woke back up. Mikey fucked his anger and sorrow into you. Izana fucked his frustration and anger into you.

Even when the men went to clean up in the shower, they fucked into your weak body. It was a clear message. A message of pure dominance. You knew that there would be no running away this time.

You’ve always known that the past would eventually catch up to you.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! 💚💚🌙

i mean… I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press “NEXT” at the end of it.)

if I would put it, let’s say, on Webtoon (which I can’t) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the “next” to go to the next one.

i don’t think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.

i’m open to suggestions though!

@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route

it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are… well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didn’t use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oof— Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )

we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.

@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? 🙏

You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked he’s monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but… adult. I don’t know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when he’s play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence… Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?

hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.

no, his human form doesn’t have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)

toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! 🔥🍜 🔥🍜 You’re so amazing and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re a damn good story teller and artist. You’ll go so far someday! You’ve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that 🫶 imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u

turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!

AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!♥️♥️♥️

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. I’ve never seen LMK though so I’m sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, I’m really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but… I’m on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! I’m so so excited to watch more (which I’m gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!

ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!

@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)

For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know Chang’E’s story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version Chang’E and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while Chang’E’s husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldn’t get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because he’s still mortal, and Chang’E is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husband’s anniversary 🙃 Bye <3

AH. OK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?

as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: ✨Hear me out :3✨ MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3

AHAH. NOW HE CAN’T SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.

AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him

I guess there haven’t been any for NOW.

Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"

NOOOOOO!!

@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!

THANK YOUUUUU

@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover

There will be a small space for them as well, yes.

@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)

I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation

@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.

Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?

I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.

Wukong's is stronger.

blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long 😭

I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.

eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?

it's taller.

@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi un’altra curiosità in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perché faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farò domande con qualche errore 🥲🥲)

Si apparirà. Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.

[fp-am]

Ok I normally don’t write lazy oneshots in Tumblr posts but I had this idea

What if, during Green’s little evil arc, the gang just talked to Alan?

(And Green and Alan have to have a talk)

Lazy Oneshot under the cut.

*Green walks into Alan’s drawing program. It’s pretty awkward after the CG told him off. Alan is animating.*

Alan: Hey, Green.

Green (awkwardly): ..hey.

Alan: Have a seat.

*hesitantly, Green sits.*

Alan: So, you have a YouTube channel now. Is that correct?

Green: ..yeah?

Alan: That’s great! How’s it been doing?

Green (a bit surprised): It’s been really good! I’ve been gaining a lot of traction recently! I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it yet.

Alan: I see. Well, I’ve been watching your videos.

Green: Really?! They’re great, right?! I already know they are..

Alan: ..I’ve been watching your videos, and I have to say that your more recent ones are.. *he wholeheartedly chuckles, then laughs*.. they’re terrible!

Green(shocked): W-WHAT?!

Alan: Yeah! They’re bad! I can barely get through one. Too much editing, too much energy, it’s overwhelming.

Green (defensive): W-Well! That’s just you! My viewers love it! I know it! I read my comments!

Alan: Really now? Let’s go through them together then.

*Alan pulls up a tab with one of Green’s recent videos, pauses the video, and scrolls down to the comments. They appear positive.*

Green: Hah! See? They love me and the videos I put out!

Alan: Mhm. Let’s go a little further.

*as he scrolls, the comments get more negative and get more criticism”

Alan: There.

Green: Well.. there’s a reason they’re at the bottom! They’re wrong. Haters!

Alan: They’re not hating. They’re giving you feedback. Here’s a good one. Ahem.. “Green, good video, but everything seems a little off. All the extra editing is really headache inducing, and your friends seem distant. Can you please go back to real moments with your friends?”

Green: They’re just being negative to be negative.

Alan: They’re giving you advice and recommendations. I can tell, just by your attitude, that you avoid these on purpose, and that’s not a good thing to be doing.

Green: …

Alan: Not to mention, the only reason you’re doing YouTube is for the traction your videos bring in. That’s not what this job is about.

Green: Then what is it about, huh? How would you know?!

Alan: It’s about doing what you like. I would know, because I have 28 million subscribers.

Green: We- WHAT?! No you don’t! You’re lying!

*Nonchalantly, Alan pulls up his channel.*

Green: ALAN? WH- Why have you never brought this up before?!

Alan: Because I don’t feel the need to brag, which is apparently something you do a lot, according to your friends.

Green: But.. I don’t.. I’m..

Alan: Listen, Green. I get it. YouTube is exciting, don’t get me wrong, it can lead you to some pretty exciting places. But, when you start doing YouTube for the sake of fame, it loses its meaning.

A lot of YouTubers I’ve witnessed the growth of over the years have taken the route you’re going down right now. Exploiting their audiences and staff to produce cheap videos that get them views, likes, and money. That’s all this platform is to them. A way to get eyes on you. A lot of times? That leads to controversy, injury, and a terrible life.

I saw your earlier videos. They were good, Green! You put love into them. That’s the most important thing that your new videos lack. You’re trying to produce content that catches people’s attention, flashy meaningless junk that’s soulless. I would be a bad caretaker and fellow content creator if I just let you go down that route. So I have to tell you to take a step back.

In sorry for being harsh, but if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t listen. The thing is, the people that genuinely like the real content you put out will stay. The rest won’t, and that’s life. You just have to find those people.

Do you understand?

Green: I’m.. yeah. ..yeah. Thank you, Alan. And.. I’m sorry.

Alan: You’re alright. Now, go talk to your friends. I’m sure an apology is way overdue.

:3

[luckyartdrawer]

(Warning: Body horror, Dead bugs, Blorbo in bad shape, Sap that looks like blood)

Putting the art below since I think a good chunk of people may not wanna see their blorbo be stuck in a tree covered in bugs. :)

(Apologies for the 10 seconds of dead air, Tumblr won't upload music without it!)

I am the honeybee

Drink the blood of the tree

I can't breathe, I can't see

Evil wind comforts me

Buried deep inside of me

Acarine

Buried deep inside of me

Acarine

vvv Alts and Yapping below! vvv

(Wish we could do more than one break rip)

No Bees, No Post Processing

Goofy ahh starting sketch

HEHEHE BE SUBJECTED TO THE MIND OF A CYCLE PATH

But actually you are being subjected to my music tastes, literally this whole idea comes from my interpretation of lyrics from the hit band King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. ✨✨✨

Like imagine this: You wake up one day after years of being offline, only to find that you've been abandoned for so long that a full on tree grew through you. (Like how some do with stop signs or other posts.) The sap is all mucked up in your gears and all over your body, and then you notice all the little bees eating the sap. But oh- they aren't moving. With a quick scroll through the ceaseless database in your mind, the answer finds itself. You, the tree, and these bees are infested with Acarine.

Hope y'all enjoyed the art and the little snippet of the song I added in! :3

It just didn't feel right to not add the song I mean C'MON THE MOOD OF THIS MAN- THE SONG IS SO MOODY

AND ITS ONLY A TRANSITION SONG UAGHHH- I love this band <3

Anyways, combining both of my hyperfixations has proven to have done magic for me, so follow your heart lovelies. lololol

(Definitely not the last time Imma do that either oop-)

I have multiple art projects I already started but I cranked this one out in 5 hours because I needed it out of my head. I also thought it would be an amazing lighting practice and a good excuse to try new brushes and techniques. :333

It seems like with how busy I was in both October and November, I didn't get all the spookiness out of me yet. I've been thinking of horror stuff so much lately. o3o Hopefully this lets me embrace the holly jolly now lol

Man I'm so glad fall semester is over, I needed this-

I also need to go to bed 2:30 already uagh-

[yanderes-galore]

I MISSED YESTERDAY I HOPE IM NOT TO LATE. hello hello, may i request a eclipse concept ? or maybe you can do eclipse with the prompt of 19 ? its up to you ! dm me if you need help with the prompt :) (also also, dm me if you got the request since tumblr tends to eat my requests.)

Hey! I apologize that I didn't see the DM part of this so I hope you saw this in the Current Drafts post :( Either way, I'll try my best since Eclipse unfortunately does not appear for long in the DLC! I haven't seen people write for Ruin Eclipse so here you go!

Note: I hope everyone enjoys the FNAF movie tomorrow! I'm not going to talk about it on here for a week after I see it!

Yandere! Eclipse Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Babying, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Forced companionship.

Eclipse has been shown to be a balance between Sun and Moon after being reset.

Honestly there's a couple directions I think I could take with this character.

One is where you explore the abandoned Pizzaplex and find Eclipse after Cassie resets them.

Another is the classic one where you're a mechanic and feel you have to reset Sun and Moon due to... malfunctions (obsession).

The resulting reset causing Eclipse to appear.

Eclipse is described according to the wiki as gentle, whimsical, and calm.

They're playful yet responsible and aren't as "overwhelming" compared to their counterparts.

I have a feeling towards you they'd be almost parental in nature due to being programmed to work with kids.

The purpose of Eclipse in the series is unknown, at least to me.

Yet they seem to have the same objective as Sun and Moon, be a Daycare Attendant.

If they see you roaming the ruined Daycare like in the first idea, they'd assume you're lost!

You thought the daycare would be one of the safest places to flee to in the ruined Pizzaplex.

However, the sense of security you had is quickly doused the moment you see the damaged Daycare Attendant.

Yet their voice is calm and caring unlike their appearance.

In the first scenario Eclipse shows concern as to why you're in such a dangerous place.

Are you lost? You look too old to be in the Daycare!

As a result you gain a companion on your trip out of the Pizzaplex.

Yet there's a chance Eclipse won't let you leave by the end of it.

If they met you after you trying to figure out why the Daycare Attendant is malfunctioning then their obsession would be faster.

As in the second scenario there's already an established obsession.

You may be a mechanic in that one yet they feel you must be cared for!

They recall you are a close friend of theirs and they simply must help you along with the kids!

Pretty soon you start to regret activating the secret third mode of the Daycare Attendant.

Overall Eclipse displays traits more mature than the others.

While Sun and Moon act childish with you and drag you into games or naps, Eclipse stays calm when redirecting.

As Eclipse the two are one and no longer fight over you.

Regardless of how they feel about you they like to observe you.

They keep watch to make sure you're safe.

If you got into a dangerous situation, an event more likely in the first scenario, they quickly pull you away.

Reminder, Eclipse is still as tall as Sun and Moon.

They could easily scoop you up into their arms and out of danger if they feel you could get hurt.

Their overly caring nature makes them baby you more than their counterparts.

They aren't forcing naps or games, but they are much more concerned about your well-being.

The bot is always scanning your body to see any changes in heart rate or injuries.

Even if you are an adult I can see them playfully calling you a kid.

There's times they treat you like your glass, like if they don't take care of you, you'll break.

As a result they feel more like guardian than anything.

They pride themselves on being your "bestest friend" like their counterparts.

They also easily get attached to you.

For example, after traversing the ruined Pizzaplex in the first scenario, they'd be so torn at the idea of leaving their friend.

Were you planning on leaving them this whole time? Forever?

No, that can't be!

As a result... they may just drag you back with them.

In the second scenario they'll stick around you as you work.

They don't want to leave their special friend!

Eclipse would definitely be physically affectionate.

They'd love to hold you and not let you touch the ground.

The like to pinch your cheeks and coo.

They just adore you.

Meanwhile you feel embarrassed as their programming just knows how to treat you like a kid even if their feelings are more intense.

If you tried to leave them they're rather calm.

No... you aren't leaving! What are you saying?

Don't worry... you're just lost! They'll just pick you up again to calm you down!

Eclipse is delusional, while their counterparts are frantic when you try to leave, they just don't acknowledge it.

There's no need for their special friend to leave!

They can take care of you right here.

After all, to them, the Pizzaplex isn't closed.

Eclipse isn't violent so they wouldn't try to harm anyone.

They just want to care for their special friend, even if you panic and scream at them.

Why do you fight them?

They're just trying to show they care!

They aren't as jealous as their counterparts.

It's good to have friends!

But they're your special friend, aren't they?

Overall, Eclipse is the more parental Daycare Attendant.

They'll be calm with you and treat you with gentle care.

Why do you act like they'll hurt you!

They'd never!

Eclipse promises to take good care of you.

Even if it means trapping you in a dilapidated Pizzaplex.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 26

Notes: I want to apologize for the wait. Those who keep up with me on tumblr already know, but for those who don't, my beloved pet hedgehog passed away earlier this week. This has put me in quite a mentally dizzying place, and sitting down to focus on writing is difficult currently. Between this and upcoming holidays, I have struggled with putting any real effort into my writing. Which sucks, and I apologize. I hope to be back to normal soon, but I do struggle with depression and anxiety. So recovering from things like death has always been hard for me since my mind's go-to is to go numb. Maybe the Sonic movie will cheer me up. Either way, I do hope to have at least a few more chapters of Uncontrolled Chaos out before the holidays as well as a new addition to the Courtship Series. Thank you to everyone who has been patient with me. Sorry if this chapter has errors or seems down. I do admittedly think my mental state likely leaked into the writing, sadly. But I won't be posting another one if I'm not happy with it, so hopefully the next will be better! Love you all!

Summary: Sonic regrets his honesty with Shads from the night before.

UC Masterpost!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Sonic wakes up to his head throbbing and his neck feeling tense and achy. Groaning quietly at the unpleasant feelings, he rolls onto his back to open his eyes up at the ceiling. Lifting his gloved fists to rub at his eyes, he yawns heavy and sighs after as he tries to process what happened last night and why he isn’t in his room.

Right.

Rouge stayed the night.

Amy arrived and did the same.

He and Shads shared the guest room..

Him and Shads shared the guest room—

Sonic quickly sits up, eyes wide as he looks to the spot Shadow was suppose to be sleeping in beside him. It’s empty. Bed neatly made on that side only with the covers tucked under the mattress and the pillow fluffed and laying in its spot against the wall. 

Shit. They—they talked last night, didn’t they??? Sonic’s stupid exhaustion got him all honest and fuzzy and dumb and he said too much.

He told him about the inhibitor ring.

A stroke of panic settles over Sonic as his hands reach back frantically to search for it in his quills. Nowhere. He can’t feel it in its usual place nor anywhere else inside his messy bedhead. He can’t lose that, Shads can’t take it from him, he—he needs that, it’s Shadow’s! It’s his reminder that Shadow will come back! That Sonic won’t lose him—

His eyes catch a glimpse of a sparkle in the corners of them, immediately turning his head to see the inhibitor ring settled safely on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.. gleaming in the morning light pouring through the window.

Relief washes over the blue blur, reaching for it a bit shakily before curling his fingers around it. Delicate at first, and then gripping it with a vice. He closes his eyes and holds it to his chest with knitted brows as he calms his pounding heart.

There’s no reason for this to make him as upset as it did.. there’s no reason for Sonic to be so damn attached to Shadow so suddenly..

Except it’s not really sudden, is it??

Sonic has always wanted to be near Shadow. Ever since they met, Sonic has— as he was explaining to Shads just last night— felt connected to him. He’s simply never known how to express it.. especially with Shadow always acting as though Sonic is such a pain to be around..

Every time Sonic has come across Shadow, the hero stuck around. Whether it be to see how he’s doing or to banter with him or even battle.. he just-.. he wants to be around him. Any of his attention, good or bad. He’ll take what he can get.

Geez, he’s really getting how Amy felt back when she was young and had a crush on him—

Ya’know what?? That was a weird thing to think! Because Sonic definitely doesn’t have a crush on Shadow! Ugh! Gross! It’s a brother thing! Yup!

Once he’s calmed himself down, he opens his eyes to look the inhibitor ring over a moment. Mind thoughtless but yet so full at the same time. Unable to process any of it due to being a bit overwhelmed.

He tucks it back into his quills and moves to get up from the bed, sliding his socked feet into his shoes and heading towards the bedroom door.

Opening the door, his ear twitches at the sound of quietly talking and giggles from downstairs. Familiar ones. Amy’s. She must be up already. Not a shock, she’s always been a morning person. He glances down the hall to see Rouge’s room is still shut. Likely sleeping in some since they can’t really get started without Knuckles and Tails here to help anyway. Plus, bats tend to be more evening and night Mobians than morning ones. Walking down the stairs, he smells both coffee and tea as well as what he thinks is bacon.. and eggs.

His stomach growls in response, yawning again as he hops down from the bottom step and peeks into the living room to see Amy and Shadow both speaking low to one another as to not wake anyone up. Amy is all kinds of giddy about whatever Shads is talking about, Shadow smiling and seeming amused at her reaction. He also just seems so… comforted by her. In a way he hasn’t been with anyone else. He imagines she’s the most familiar thing he’s crossed in this world given Amy is kind to anyone in every world. While Shadow’s relationship with Rouge and Sonic seems drastically different in each world, his relationship with Amy seems relatively consistent.

His stomach does give an uncomfortable flip, though. The way it always does when he sees his own Shadow and Amy together.

Not jealous.

Envious.. 

Despite this, Sonic decides not to interrupt them for now, let them have some time together to decompress before things get crazy.

Instead, the hero moves into the kitchen across the hall, following his nose to find two bacon and egg omelettes hidden in the microwave. He assumes they were saved for him and Rouge, so he pulls one out and leaves the other for the bat. Closing the microwave, he then moves to grab himself some of the tea remaining in a little kettle. Amy likely made it since she’s a tea-person. Shadow is definitely the one who made the coffee. Rouge will probably finish it off when she wakes up. The few times Sonic has ran into Shadow in public places, it’s often in coffee shops. Shadow getting him and Rouge’s coffee order on his lunch break only to return to work at GUN after. 

Pouring him some tea and adding some sugar, he hops up to sit himself on the counter by the window and watch the birds flutter about and the clouds pass as he enjoys his quiet breakfast. As much as he’s hated being alone since his friends left, he has grown accustom to quiet mornings to just.. take in the new day. The sky seems pretty clear, big fluffy white clouds speckled here and there. No signs of rain. And the glass feels warm when Sonic presses his arm against it, so it’s likely a relatively toasty day. Good. Maybe Sonic can sneak a run in before they really get started on all this. Clear his head some after last night..

He wasn’t really ready to face Shads after falling apart on him like that. Having a panic attack in front of someone you just met doesn’t exactly scream ‘hero’. Wouldn’t be surprised if Shads decides Sonic is too mentally unwell and needs to sit this whole adventure out.

Hell… if Sonic was real honest with himself, he may actually agree. 

He hasn’t been doing too well for awhile. And Starfall Islands just seemed to highlight all of his baggage. But he kept a good mask on for his friends.. even if that wasn’t exactly the most healthy decision either. 

Maybe Shads was right. Maybe he should open up to them all some more so he didn’t trauma dump on the first person who hops into their dimension and asks if he’s okay.

Then again, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?? And no one has really seemed to take much notice in him being a bit more off than usual. Sure they all left him to find their own journeys or whatever, but they still considered him their hero. Their leader..

He couldn’t do anything to dampen that..

He had a duty, a title to uphold.  

So he decides then and there to be stronger. Better. The exact opposite of everything Shads has been trying to tell him. Because maybe if his friends come back and see him back to his normal, heroic and carefree self, they won’t want to leave him..

“Tea good?” 

Sonic’s eyes widen a bit as his head whips around to see Shadow standing there eyeing him. And the look on the hybrid’s face.. it’s like he can read Sonic’s mind. There’s slight disapprovement in his gaze, worry clear.. how he eyes Sonic as if he’s taking in his every thought and can read him like an open book. And maybe he can? He does know his Sonic better in his world. Perhaps he’s picked up on some of Sonic’s mannerisms.

Either way, Sonic does what he does best and puts on a smile and nods, “Yup! Really hits the spot in the morning.”

“Mm,” the hybrid hums, walking closer to pick up the coffee pot and pour more into his mug. His eyes never leave Sonic.

“…Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” the hero replies, trying not to cringe at his choice of words considering he practically overwhelmed himself to sleep last night.

“Good,” Shadow places the coffee pot back down, lifting his mug to take a sip as he eyes Sonic, “…Are you doing alright after—“

“So Amy forcing you to tell her all the deets of your world??” Sonic interrupts, not wanting the conversation to go where he knows Shads was leading it.

Shadow doesn’t answer for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping his nose as if he’s tired or disappointed or something only to then nod and offer a tiny smile, “Yes, very much so.”

“Shame I’m missing it,” Sonic smirks as he pushes himself off the counter to place his now empty teacup and plate in the sink, “I’m sure she’s totally enthralled by your stories, though.”

“She is,” Shadow nods, seeming to try and smile but it’s not reaching his eyes, “..it’s nice having someone whose relationship with me is relatively the same.”

“I figured,” Sonic smiles understandingly, “It’s why I didn’t want to interrupt..”

“You sure it’s not because you were avoiding last night??”

Sonic’s smile disappears. Shadow’s does too.

They stare at each other a long moment, Sonic’s brows furrowing a bit at being called out and Shadow’s knitting up in concern for Sonic’s obvious avoidance..

“…I’m gonna go for a run,” Sonic eventually says, turning to leave only to feel a hand suddenly wrap around his elbow to stop him.

“Don’t,” Shadow’s voice is quiet. Pleading. “…Stop running..”

Sonic’s ears bend back at this, keeping his back to Shadow as he’s unable to meet his gaze in that moment. Scared of what he might find..

Scared of how much this Shadow knows him.. 

And all because his Sonic looked for him—

“Oh! Sonic, you’re awake!” Amy’s voice comes bright and cheery as she enters the kitchen only to pause at the obvious tension and eye the way Shadow is holding onto Sonic.

Shadow immediately lets Sonic go, frowning as he takes a step away from him. Sonic’s eyes meet Amy’s and Amy raises a brow at the two.

“..Everything okay??”

Shadow doesn’t answer. And Sonic knows he’s waiting to see what Sonic’s response is. If it’s honest.

It’s not.

“Yeah!” the hero chimes with a grin, moving to wrap an arm around her and squeeze her up against his side, “Just was about to head out for a run is all. You and Shads catch up??”

Amy eyes Sonic suspiciously but seems to let it slide for now, smiling in response as her own grin turns mischievous, “Oh yes.. we definitely did..”

Sonic blinks at that, looking at her devilishly knowing look and then to Shads who has his arms crossed and a smirk on his face, shaking his head at the pink hedgehog. 

“Do I wanna know??” Sonic asks with a nervous little chuckle.

“I think I’d rather just watch how this one plays out,” Amy teases with a wink to Shads before looking back to Sonic, “But you said you were going for a run?”

Sonic, too, let’s it slide.. not wanting even more on his mind than is already there, “Yeah! Just a quick one. Figure I’ll get it in before Rouge gets up and we get this party rolling.”

“Are Knuckles and Tails both coming back??” Amy questions with a hopeful tilt of her head.

“Yup! Gangs gonna be all back together,” Sonic grins enthusiastically to which Amy bounces on her toes excitedly.

“Oh yay yay yay! I’ve missed you all so much! We’ll get this whole thing fixed in no time with everyone together,” she assures, moving from Sonic’s grip to the counter to refill her tea.

She doesn’t see the way Sonic’s smile twitches downward just slightly at that thought..

But Shadow does.

Shadow sees right through him..

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

[christiannerd]

IBS is a disability

TW for discussion/vent about how a disability affects me, and mention of having to hide pain

Disclaimer: I am new to Tumblr, and have yet to watch an etiquette video. If I have accidentally said or done anything I wasn't supposed to, it was entirely unintentional, and I deeply apologize. I will correct it as soon as I am made aware.

Warning: long post ahead (under the cut)

IBS should be considered a disability. I know a bunch of people in the disabled community online already consider it one, but legally it's not considered one.

Sure, im still able to have a job and do my school work, but that doesn't mean it doesn't make those things harder than it would be for someone who's digestive system isn't a mine field.

What happens when I have a flare-up at work? Which, by the way, has happened before. I can't just take a 2 hour bathroom break in the middle of my 8 hour shift! So I just stand there. in pain. ignoring the pain. keeping that customer-service smile on my face so the customers don't notice I'm in pain.

One time (before I had my meds, so the pain was a lot worse back then too) I was working a shift and my boss stationed me in the elevator. Literally the most useless job I could have been given, I was just there to press the buttons for customers. (I had a more important role at one specific spot in the shift, but that lasted like 5 minutes). I had a flareup towards the beginning of that shift. I could tell this was going to be a multi-hour bathroom visit, so I couldn't do anything about it until I got off work. I was in so much pain that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. But of course, I couldn't do that. I had to stand there, and smile, and keep working. So not only was I having to smile through the judgemental stares and comments bc I was being paid to press elevator buttons, but I had to ignore being in agonizing physical pain as well.

Its not that my IBS stops me from having a job, but it probably effects my performance at my job. Who can focus in that much pain? Sure that day focus wasn't really an issue bc I was just pressing elevator buttons, but in any other position it would have been a major problem. And if I dealt with the problem to make the pain go away, I'd lose several hours of work, on a consistent basis, and probably be fired for it.

And as far as school, hygine, and social life goes, I lose several hours out of my day, every day, to being stuck in the bathroom trying desperately to make the pain go away. You think that doesn't effect my ability to find time for homework? You think that doesn't effect my ability to make it to class? You think that doesn't effect my ability to take care of my body in other ways?

I very often have to choose between going to class or taking a shower, because the time I was suppose to be in the shower, I was on the toilet. I often have to choose between getting my homework done, and spending time with friends, because the time I was supposed to be doing homework, I was stuck in the bathroom. I know homework vs social life is a common time balancing problem for students, but for most people it's "less time with friends to get the homework done", but for me it's very often "no time with friends to get the homework done". It's so isolating. If I didn't see these people at church, and at club meetings, I'd probably never get to see them. (and yes, I have missed or been late to those bc of my IBS as well)

My IBS has kept me up until the middle of the night before. It's made me miss class. It's made me late to things. It's made me miss exams! (Thank goodness my professors were understanding enough to let me take it another time).

The only ways I can manage my IBS is by taking meds, and/or severely restricting my diet. My pills help me be able to avoid some of the pain from eating food, but like any disability aid, it doesn't help 100%. Without my meds, most vegetables are completely out of the question. So is a long list of fruits, and so many other things. Even tea hurts me! Coffee too! Meds help, but I'm still in pain. Less pain, but still pain. And im still spending hours in the bathroom. 1-2 hours at a time, instead of 3-4, but it's still countable in terms of hours.

This is a lifelong condition that I was born with. If any other part of my body was effecting me this way, no one would doubt that I'm disabled. Heck, this effects me more than some of the recognized disabilities that I have! How is this not a disability?

[bluesturngold]

Hi, do you have a source that the tumblr breach is from 2013?

Hey, thank you for asking!

The article included in that post states that pretty much all of the leaked info in the big database that was published comes from old breaches. It doesn't really suggest what amount of the data could be new, or where it might have come from, other than that if there is new data it's only a small portion of the records. In essence: there's no evidence that suggests Tumblr has been breached a second time. That idea was erroneously posited by the OP of the Tumblr post who shared the article, and they've since apologized in the reblogs.

They meant well!

Anyway, you can check to see whether your info is included in this specific breach, and if so what site(s) it came from, by using the tool here: https://cybernews.com/personal-data-leak-check/

An additional anecdote: if you've ever used Google One's tool for checking where your stolen information is being posted on the web, it specifically flags when something it detects is a republishing of old data rather than a new breach. People repost stolen data a lot in order to sell it after the original post gets taken down, or to clean it up so the data is easier for people to access and use.

I can't suggest people go check Google One for themselves because I'm pretty sure the security monitoring functionality is paid (I have Google One for expanded cloud storage, the security monitoring is a relatively recent perk, I think), but Have I Been Pwned is generally the best free option. Firefox Monitor, a Mozilla service for checking whether your data is secure, is powered by HIBP, so better to just go to the source imo.

After checking again, HIBP doesn't seem to have this breach fully catalogued yet (it's a lot of stuff to go through, so that's normal), but the Cyber News tool that was linked in the article in the original post (and which I linked previously) kinda tells you most of what you need to know.

I recognize this isn't as concise as posting a link to an article that debunks rumors of Tumblr getting breached a second time, but the breach is new and also contains nearly 30,000 information sources (my data was found leaked from 10 different sources, all of which I knew about already because they were old, one of which was Tumblr) so honestly I don't think it's even worth focusing on Tumblr on its own tbh.

If you reuse passwords it honestly might be worth it to get a strong password generator and a password manager, then spend a free afternoon going through and updating your accounts. I use Firefox browser's in-built password manager with a strong-but-memorable password for my Firefox account because you can sync passwords between desktop/mobile/various devices, plus there's integration with autofill on Android if you set Firefox as the autofill app in your default app settings.

[trivialovehandles]

I know you listed hybrids as a maybe but I was thinking of lazy cat hybrid Yoongi, and his active dog hybrid boyfriend Namjoon. Yoongi feels like Namjoon could be using the time he exercises to cuddle with him. So Yoongi makes plans to fatten him up, starts making more food he likes, and offering to drive him to work so that way he doesn’t have to ride his bike. Namjoon’s happy because as part of this, Yoongi makes more steak dinners and gives him more belly rubs

(ao3 link) had to re-send this anon's ask to myself because tumblr ate the draft of this post, so anon, i hope you see this anyway (i know you literally requested this over a year ago lmfao)

The alarm goes off when it’s still dark, which is too-fucking-early o’clock in Yoongi’s mind. He tries to roll over, to curl up and go back to sleep, but the lingering heat on the now-empty side of the bed is now leaching all the leftover warmth, and his ears keep twitching at every muffled noise from the other side of the wall.

When the noise stops, Yoongi feels a kiss pressed to the center of his forehead. He glares through half-closed eyelids.

“Sorry, hyung. Gotta get to work,” Namjoon apologizes quietly, even though Yoongi’s already been so rudely awakened. He doesn’t even have to be at work for an hour, but Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Kim Namjoon bikes to work and leaves at too-fucking-early o’clock. “See you tonight. Love you.”

Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Yoongi loves Kim Namjoon, so he catches him by the grown-out scruff of hair at the back of his head and tells him as much, kissing him on the lips before he has to go.

And then he falls back asleep for another hour, two hours.

The perks of working from home are less perky when Namjoon works not from home. Yoongi spends the parts of his day that he’s not actively dialed into his work pacing the house, tidying up, cooking. By the time Namjoon gets home in the evening, they basically only have time to eat dinner, watch a show or two, and go to bed. Even sex gets penciled in for the weekends.

So sometimes Yoongi just wants to take Namjoon’s stupid bike and throw it off of their balcony. Serves it right for taking husband time away from him.

(He doesn’t, because despite everything, he’d like to believe he’s good husband material, but when Namjoon wakes up early and gets home late because of that thing, sue Yoongi for resenting it a little.)

The time apart means Yoongi picks up new hobbies. He was a basic cook when they first moved in together, but with all the practice, he can throw down in the kitchen, which is now filled with odd gadgets, different pans for different meals, and no less than four types of flour in the cupboard (because they always need all-purpose, but then there’s glutinous rice flour for tteok, cake flour for birthdays, bread flour because you need the right amount of gluten development for brioche, and shit, they could probably use some almond flour, too).

Yoongi’s in the middle of a soul-suckingly boring meeting with his webcam turned off when he remembers the package he’d brought in that morning, still sitting on the kitchen counter. He drags his laptop out with him as he slices the box open, grinning to himself at the sight.

Namjoon loves bungeoppang; now they are the proud owners of a brand new bungeoppang pan.

By the time evening settles and Namjoon comes home, sweaty from his bike ride, Yoongi’s filled the counter with an array of food. Galbi fresh out of the pressure cooker, melting off the bone, sticky glazed sweet potatoes, kimchi jeon still crackling in the pan. He hasn’t cooked the bungeoppang yet, but the batter and filling are mixed in separate bowls, ready to be made fresh once they finish dinner.

“Wow,” Namjoon says, racking his bike up on its place on the wall of the entryway (another demerit for the bike: they live in a tiny fourth-story apartment and to avoid it taking up precious floor space, it now takes up precious wall space). “Special occasion?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Meeting that could have been an email. I had to entertain myself somehow.”

“I’m not offended by this kind of entertainment.” Namjoon swoops into the kitchen area to give Yoongi a soft, lingering kiss. “Do you think I have time to shower?”

Yoongi pinches the front of his sweaty t-shirt. “If you make it quick.”

“So quick,” Namjoon promises. “I’m starving and that smells amazing.”

(Bike demerit number 3001: Namjoon always comes home needing a shower, meaning more time away when Yoongi just wants to sit him down and feed him dinner and kiss him senseless.)

By the time Namjoon comes back out, Yoongi’s spread everything across the counter, their empty plates and full bowls of rice placed next to each other so they can sit elbow-to-elbow at the island like they always do for dinner.

Yoongi likes to savor these moments. It’s the shortest portion of their day, but his favorite: side-by-side with Namjoon, talking, eating, recharging after time spent without each other. He can always tell when Namjoon’s settled down comfortably by the slow swish of his tail versus the fervent wag of it when he first gets home, too keyed up to focus. Now he savors each bite of his food, delicately laying a piece of galbi on top of his rice, layering it with a pinch of pa kimchi, and humming low in his chest when he scoops it into his mouth, like he’s picked up on Yoongi’s purring after so many years together.

“Good?” Yoongi asks as Namjoon chews. There’s sauce on Namjoon’s cheek, and Yoongi wipes it up with the edge of his thumb, not even flinching when Namjoon licks it off again, the oversized puppy he is.

“So good,” Namjoon says, reaching for more food before he’s even finished chewing his bite.

“Pace yourself, Joon-ah,” Yoongi reminds him with a soft laugh, “we still have dessert.”

Namjoon does not pace himself. He keeps on eating, starry-eyed. “I can’t believe you bought a bungeoppang pan.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Boredom and disposable income cause me to do a lot of things.”

It would explain the waffle maker, the immersion circulator, the pasta roller, and the little gut that’s just started poking at the front of Namjoon’s shirt.

It’s not totally Yoongi’s fault. Namjoon hasn’t really been rail-thin since they were still university students living on a ramyeon budget and denying their feelings for each other. He has a big appetite, as evidenced by the quick work he’s making of his next portion of meat, already almost finished with his rice. He’s probably three times as physical as Yoongi with the whole bike thing, and Yoongi’s always been slim but soft. So technically the pudge that sits over the waist of Namjoon’s pants isn’t on Yoongi, even if Yoongi likes to take advantage of it.

(But even then, is it really taking advantage when Namjoon, the dog boy of all dog boys, loves getting his belly rubbed as much as Yoongi, loathe as he is to accept the cat making biscuits stereotype, loves to rub it?)

Namjoon eats all of his dinner, and when Yoongi realizes he made too much batter for two servings of bungeoppang, happily eats the extras too. And when he’s done eating and has moved onto cleaning the dishes because Yoongi did the cooking, Yoongi can’t help but plaster himself to his husband’s back, face buried in the scruff of his neck and hands crossed over his bloated stomach where it’s pressed against the rim of the sink.

“Affectionate tonight,” Namjoon chuckles, leaning his head to softly touch against the side of Yoongi’s. The pan he’s cleaning has been fully rinsed for a while, but both of them are too distracted to notice or care.

“Sue me,” Yoongi murmurs into the shoulder of Namjoon’s t-shirt. “You leave early and come home at night and I only have, like, four hours to spend with you every day.”

“It’s a good four hours, though.”

“Out of twenty-four,” Yoongi grumbles. When it startles a small, hiccupping laugh out of Namjoon, his little gut jumps and shakes a bit between Yoongi’s hands. “I fantasize about throwing your bike off of the fire escape sometimes.”

Namjoon covers Yoongi’s hands with his own, and the only thing keeping Yoongi from bristling at the wet touch is the sight of both of their hands placed over the swell of Namjoon’s stomach. He looks good, fuller like this. It suits him.

“You wouldn’t,” Namjoon says, stomach stretching out in a breath.

“I wouldn’t,” Yoongi confirms. “Only because I don’t want manslaughter charges for crushing a pedestrian with a bike.”

“Valid,” Namjoon laughs. His stomach shakes again, but this time, they both feel it. “I can bike less, take the bus so I can sleep in more with you. It’s starting to be too cold in the mornings anyway.”

Yoongi just half-purrs, kneading the softness between his hands. Namjoon’s moved his to turn the sink off, but he doesn’t stop Yoongi’s ministrations; in fact, he leans more into him, back arched, giving some more access to the lower half of his stomach that had been squashed against the sink. The bit of skin that’s stretching the waistband of his flannel PJ pants more than when he bought them.

“I’ll just have to figure out a way to exercise at home,” Namjoon’s saying when Yoongi can feel his ears flatten at the back of his head in displeasure.

“Why? Who are you trying to impress, hm?” he gripes, purring effectively stopped. One of his fingers has found its way to circle Namjoon’s belly button; deeper now, more flesh around it, his long finger sinks in halfway up to the second joint.

Namjoon laughs. His dimples are much more prominent now in cheeks that are also more prominent. The softening of his face has been so gradual that Yoongi only really notices now, with his head perched right beneath it, that Namjoon’s jawline is more obscured than the razor curve of their youth, and that he doesn’t have a double chin, not yet, but there’s definitely a little pocket of skin that’s just barely swelling up beneath the point of it.

His face has taken well to the weight. All at once, Namjoon looks both like the college kid Yoongi first fell for and the grown man he sees himself growing old with—and growing soft with, maybe, in Namjoon’s case.

“Guess the only person I’d want to impress is already impressed,” Namjoon says, lifting one hand from their shared spot on his stomach to gesture where Yoongi’s got his shirt rucked up, finger teasing at his belly button.

Yoongi lifts that same hand, instead taking a handful of bared, supple underbelly and giving it a teasing grab, just to watch the way the whole thing’s starting to develop a jiggle to it. Without two combined hours of biking every weekday, surely it’ll develop faster.

Not that Yoongi minds. In fact, whatever the opposite of minding is, that’s how he feels, tucking his hand back beneath the lowest curve of his husband’s paunch just to feel it quiver with Namjoon’s contented laugh.

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Bird Initiative: Pennsylvania (#2) - Results

Poll #2 in the books! Cutting this one short, since I think we've got all we're gonna get from this one for now. But, it's still open for the next couple of days, if anybody sees this by then and hasn't voted. That said! I'm gonna call it for now and show you the results as they stand, as well as my personal choice, just like last time. So, what does a small group of Tumblr contributors think the State Bird of Pennsylvania should be?

A sincere apology to the Ruffed Grouse, but it looks like we have a new State Bird of Pennsylvania!

SBI Elected State Bird of Pennsylvania: Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo)

The popular choice for State Bird of Pennsylvania is the Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo), and it's a pretty good choice in my opinion!

Somebody referred to this as a meme pick, and while it's possible the joke's on me here...I actually think this is a great choice for Pennsylvania. As I outlined in my original post, it's a favored bird of Benjamin Franklin, it's a popular bird for hunting and preservation in Pennsylvania already, and they're a major symbol of the country in general. Plus, Turkey Day in Pennsylvania will now take on a whole new meaning! That said, it's true that the distribution of the species is in nearly every state in the Union, but that actually makes the point more prominent. The Constitutional Capitol of the country has a State Bird found all over it! It works.

With that, I'll launch into my personal opinions for State Bird choices, but I will say: the Wild Turkey is the State Bird Initiative's personal choice for State Bird of Pennsylvania. Yeah, I agree with the masses on this one. So that's one down...but we're not done yet. But if you're satisfied with this, see you next time in the Garden State!

The State Birds Initiative Personal Pick - Pennsylvania (#2)

State Game Bird of Pennsylvania (SBI): Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus)

Y'know, I actually misspoke up there. The Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus) hasn't been dethroned, because it was never the State Bird in the first place; it was the State Game Bird, and I say it should stay that way! The Ruffed Grouse is a great game bird for the state, even if it's not dependent on it for its breeding population, so why not leave it in this position. I do still love that sound of drumming in the woods, and more people should experience that. OK. Now that that's done, time for the next pick!

State Raptor of Pennsylvania (SBI): American Goshawk (Accipiter atricapillus)

Man oh man, did I want the goshawk to win this one. But, instead, I'll settle for SBI's State Raptor. After all, the history of Hawk Mountain and conservation initiatives is dependent on this species. Now, that said, there is a point to be made: New York is a better fit here. Yeah, the American Goshawk (Accipiter atricapillus) barely has a foothold in the state of Pennsylvania, which is sort of the point of its inclusion here. But, at the same time, New York has MUCH better candidates for State Raptor, so I think we can give Pennsylvania this one. If you're stumbling on this post before seeing the original poll, please check that out first for more context here. In the meantime, let's keep going! We have some more to throw onto the pile here.

SBI's Big Fifty - Pennsylvania: Chestnut-sided Warbler (Setophaga pensylvanica)

This one is...controversial. Of the previous choice presented, which bird is a notable find for birdwatchers within Pennsylvania? That's the logic for the Big Fifty list, but...this one isn't as cut-and-dry. Honestly, Pennsylvania isn't terribly unique when it comes to the NE USA in terms of bird diversity (sorry, Keystoners), so there aren't as many reliable and unique species to be found here as opposed to other states that haven't been mentioned (a la the American Goshawk up there). And the Chestnut-sided Warbler (Setophaga pensylvanica) isn't unique to PA, that's for sure. I've seen them in NY, NH, and MA, personally. Still, it's a cool bird to see wherever it pops up. But why this bird for the Big Fifty?

Well, the fact that it breeds in the state is a pretty big bonus. I realize that the Red Knot doesn't breed in Delaware, but it's a notable enough species to make this list for birdwatchers. Likewise, the Chestnut-sided Warbler is a BIG highlight for amateur birdwatchers, and a nice sight-to-see for experienced birders. And the other candidates? Well, turkey, grouse, and goshawk are taken by other categories. Bonaparte's Gull (Chroicocephalus philadelphia) and the Mourning Warbler (Geothlypis philadelphia) are great, but are only included because of their species name, and barely breed in the state, making them an unreliable choice comparatively. And as much as I wanted to make this category the Philadelphia Vireo (Vireo philadelphicus), it doesn't breed in the state at all, making it the most poor candidate. So, Chestnut-sided is left standing. I am more than happy to take other suggestions for this category for PA, but that's the choice for the time being!

But wait...I forgot someone.

State Conservation Focus (SBI): Pileated Woodpecker (Dyrocopus pileatus)

...OK, hear me out. I was actually bummed that the Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) didn't get the trophy of State Bird of Pennsylvania. Sure, a huge part of that was the whole Keystone's keystone thing, but another part is the fact that the Pileated Woodpecker deserves more attention in this country. In fact woodpeckers deserve quite a bit of recognition, for a number of reasons. But in this instance, I think the Pileated Woodpecker should be a State Conservation Focus for Pennsylvania, to help promote conservation of Pennsylvania's forests and forest industry.

Now, there are two pieces of this to be discussed. First, we've got Pennsylvania's forest. Pennsylvania is both a bastion of conservation, as well as a bastion of historical deforestation. Originally, PA severely deforested the state forests in order to settle it. By the end of the 1800s, nearly two-thirds of the forests in PA were destroyed due to overharvesting, forest fires, and soil erosion, all anthropogenic in nature. The Department of Forestry described Pennsylvania as "a landscape of stumps and ashes. Charcoal was a major export for the state, which required the harvesting and burning of wood, and that involved clear-cutting. But with the trees disappearing, forestry moved west...and Pennsylvania was left empty.

But then, the environmental movements began in the USA in the 1900s. The Department of Forestry was created in 1895, and just over the years afterwards, replanting initiatives began. The Civilian Conservation Corps took over the state initiative to replant Pennsylvania's forests, and much of the state became reforested. Not all of it, of course; Pennsylvania still only has about half of the trees and forested acres that it started with, with mostly privately owned land, BUT...17 million acres ain't nothing to sneeze at. It's a conservation success story! And, uh...and yet...we're not done.

The problem now is that climate change, invasive species, and continuing development continue to endanger Pennsylvania's forests. The reasons are definitely different than they used to be. Deer have overpopulated, causing damage to the undergrowth, and allowing invasive species like Japanese stiltgrass (Microstegium vimeneum) and others to take over. But oh-ho-HO...that's not the biggest problem facing PA's forests. Sure, logging still exists, and climate change is being made worse as a result, but there's an even bigger threat to the forests of PA, and the USA as a whole.

GAH!!! KILL IT! KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLIT!!!

The Spotted Lanternfly (Lycorma delicatula) is an invasive species, a true bug (planthopper, to be specific) from China and Vietnam that's spread to multiple countries, including the United States. And the first state in which it was supported? Pennsylvania. Combined with another major invasive species, the Emerald Ash Borer (Agrilus planipennis), Pennsylvania suffers $243.8 million in damages due to these guys annually, meaning that this should be a MAJOR concern to PA citizens. And what's worse, they've now spread at least to 16 states. I saw some in NYC a month ago, and I tried to go Starship Troopers on those goddamn bugs. But they were behind a fence on private property, GODDAMMIT.

Anyway, what does this have to do with the Pileated Woodpecker? Well, a few things. Firstly, while the Pileated Woodpecker focus mostly on ants as prey items, they certainly eat tree-boring insects and larvae like the ash-borer, and other woodpecker species are known to eat the lanternfly. It definitely stands to reason that the Pileated Woodpecker eats them as well, and their populations alone would likely contribute positively to the species. Plus, if trees are taken down to stop the spread of these guys, the woodpecker and others suffer. But even more prominently, as I've said before...it's a keystone species. A LOT of species depend on the Pileated for homes and tree hollows, and a MASSIVE amount of those animals eat spotted lanternflies. So, what I'm actually proposing as a conservation focus for PA is a large, iconic, and easily identifiable bird species that acts as both a cornerstone for the forest communities of PA, a protector for the forests from invasive insects, and therefore a symbol the forests of PA.

...Wait a minute. WHY DIDN'T I USE THIS ARGUMENT IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?

Well, uh...to be frank with you, I actually didn't know. This isn't an angle I'd considered until...well, getting ready to write this post. This actually is a great symbol for the state, but specifically for conservation purposes. So, I'm making up for it by making this a Conservation Focus for the state, giving it status as a major state symbol for the SBI. Protection of the Pileated Woodpecker means protection of the forests of Pennsylvania. Mission accomplished (in the alternate universe where the United States federal and state governments are reading this post series and taking it seriously).

The other point I'd like to make is in calling this a Conservation Focus. I don't think there needs to be one fixated species in this position; this should be a species of focus decided on during election cycles, with the capacity to be changed based on new candidates for the position. So, this is a focus, not the only one possible. Why not make the lanternfly the focus? Because they need to be squashed, literally squashed, not made into a federally recognized symbol. If there was a most wanted list for invasive species, these would be near the top. That might be the focus of another post series, now that I think about it. or maybe an art project to make Most Wanted posters, OH GOD MY OVERAMBITIOUS NATURE IS BEING ACTIVATED HELP

With that, though, that's the end of our story in Pennsylvania. We're gonna move on to a state with a...questionable reputation. Is it deserved? Will that be reflected in the State Bird choices? Who knows? We'll see that in the next poll, coming very soon! See you in New Jersey??

See you next time, and happy birding!

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

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[2nd2ndalto]

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

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***NB there are two parts to this chapter since it was too big for one Tumblr post!!***

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I started writing this fic a year ago to the day!! It's hard to fathom. And it's still not done! Haha, sob.

TW for Luke being a huge dick. In canon, I don’t have particularly strong feelings about Luke & I feel there’s a lot of potential nuance to his character. But for my X-Files purposes, I just needed a bad guy. My apologies to any Luke stans.

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Chapter 6 (part 1 of 2)

(chapter 5 here)

April 1999

“Nico, look what arrived,” Will announces, bouncing back into the office.

Nico looks up, hopeful. “Is it my new three-hole punch?”

Will looks thrilled enough that it just might be the three-hole punch.

“Even better,” Will says. He pulls up a chair next to Nico and begins attempting to open a cardboard box. Smaller than a bread box, probably the wrong shape for a three-hole punch. Damn.

Nico watches Will struggle for a good thirty seconds before snatching the box away, grabbing a letter opener and easily slitting the packing tape. He hands the box back, one eyebrow raised.

Will just grins like an idiot. “My hero.”

There’s yet another box inside the first, and Will, very sensibly, hands it over before he can try breaking into it.

“Oh. It’s a… camera?” Nico says, confused. The X-Files already has a camera. It’s been serving Nico well for years. He’s rather attached to it, honestly. The little device has seen better days, but it’s small and sleek, fitting in his coat pocket and into the cradle of his hands like it was custom made.

“It’s a digital camera,” Will says, taking the box back once Nico’s cut the tape.

“Oh –”

“So you don’t need film! Plus you can take a photo, and see it right away on the little screen.” Will looks delighted.

Nico nods in recognition. “Yeah, Frank’s got one of those. That’s cool.”

Nico doesn’t think he’s ready to retire his film camera yet, despite its sometimes-reluctance to power on and the little piece of electrical tape holding the battery door shut. But maybe Will can use the new camera. He seems intent to try, anyway. Prodding at it for a moment, Will manages to turn the thing on, then aims it at Nico, pressing a button. The camera makes a fancy little digital beep.

“Hey,” Nico protests, scowling. He tries to shove the camera out of the way, but Will’s already lowered it to his lap, poking at the buttons.

“Aww,” Will exclaims. He turns the camera to Nico and yes, sure enough, there’s Nico on the tiny screen, looking blindsided and five-o’clock-shadowed.

“Amazing. What a time to be alive,” Nico says, flat. “Now delete that immediately. I know you can, I’ve seen Frank do it.”

Will shakes his head, trying and utterly failing to maintain a straight face. “No can do, this model doesn’t have that function.”

“Fuck you,” Nico complains, reaching for the camera. But Will pulls it away, fumbling and almost dropping it. Will’s eyes go wide as he catches it just before it smashes to the floor. Nico snorts.

“One of the best things about digital cameras,” Will is saying, continuing to keep the thing out of Nico’s reach, aided by his unfairly long arms, “is that you can take as many pictures as you want!”

Nico smirks. “Because you can just delete the ones you don’t like?”

Will freezes, looking hilariously caught-out, and Nico laughs. “It’s cool, anyway,” Nico says. “I heard the Bureau was getting them.”

Nico regards Will for a moment, his partner now carefully lining up possibly-artistic shots of the mess on Nico’s desk, the empty coffee maker, his own shoes.

“Wonder how long before the Bureau writes up a new policy about agents not using the cameras for personal photos,” Nico muses aloud, thinking of all the possibilities. Not possibilities for him. But maybe for others. It’s his job to think of what other people might do, okay?

Will binks in confusion for a moment before turning abruptly, adorably pink. Nico laughs, pretending his own face isn’t also warming.

“Oh god,” Will says.

“Exactly.”

Something seems to occur to Will. “Hey, now we can take pictures of us together!” he exclaims.

Nico sighs. He somehow didn’t see that coming, though he probably should have. “Because we couldn’t have done that before?”

But Will’s already scooting his chair up next to Nico, leaning in while he holds the camera out in front of them, lens aimed in sort-of their general direction. “Say cheese,” Will says.

Nico tries to look as unimpressed as he can manage. It turns out not to make any difference anyway, because when Will checks the camera, it’s captured a blurry shot of the wall behind them, a flash of gold at the bottom of the frame that might be Will’s hair.

“Damn it,” Will frowns, shamelessly deleting the image. “We need to get closer.”

“Not sure that was really the issue,” Nico mutters to no avail as Will comes in even closer. Nico’s gotten accustomed to Will’s lack of personal space over the months, has gotten to appreciate it, mostly. But this happens so fast and somehow Nico finds himself unprepared – for Will’s arm, tight around his shoulders, Will’s warm cheek suddenly smushed against his.

His whole body warms; tingling heat accompanied by the sudden, intense desire for more, aching like an open wound. Nico’s desperately hoping it doesn’t show on his face, when Will snaps the picture.

Will’s touch is gone just as fast – too fast – as he moves back, flips the camera to look at the photo. Something softens in Will’s expression, and he doesn’t speak for a moment.

“What?” Nico asks, nervous about it now.

“We look –” Will shakes his head, smiling. “It’s – just a good camera.”

Nico reaches for the camera and Will passes it over. It is a good photo. There’s Will, beaming like an idiot, looking somehow thrilled to be pressed up against Nico. And Nico looks… content. Maybe a little harassed, but happy. He’s not smiling, but there’s a quirk to his lips. A warmth in his eyes.

And the weirdest thing is – they don’t just look good individually. They look good together. Like the two of them add up to more than the sum of their parts. It’s as if, seven months ago, there was a Will and a Nico. And now there’s a them. How did that happen, without Nico realizing?

“I’m gonna print that one,” Will says, a bit softer. He takes the camera back.

“Sure,” Nico agrees, as cool as he can. “We can put it right next to the picture of my fish.”

Will looks pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nico turns back to his desk, shuffling papers unnecessarily.

Will stands, glancing at his watch. “Oh, it’s almost five. Wanna walk me to the train?”

More often than not these days, they leave the office together, deep in conversation – lingering first in the lobby, then making their way to the metro station where they finally part ways and Nico heads back to the parking garage.

“Um.” Nico clears his throat. “I was going to stick around, actually. Some Fridays I grab pizza from that place on F Street, pull some old files.” He’s not sure why he’s suddenly feeling awkward about it. But he supposes he’s never mentioned it to Will before.

Will blinks, surprised.

Nico shrugs. “You know. Try looking at things with new eyes. See if I can find anything I’ve missed.”

“Oh –”

“You don’t have to stay,” Nico adds quickly, because he suddenly realizes that he would like the company, but he definitely doesn’t want Will to feel obligated. “I’m off the clock. It probably sounds stupid, but I just kind of like hanging around here when the building empties out. It feels –”

“Spooky?” Will grins.

Nico rolls his eyes. “No, nerd. It’s – relaxing. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. Go home,” he adds, tossing an eraser at Will and turning back to his desk. “We’re done for the day.”

“No, I get that.” Will doesn’t make any move to leave yet. “I’d like to stay, actually. But –”

Nico’s quick to shake his head. “No, go enjoy your Friday night. You don’t have to–”

“No, I was going to say I would stay, but my little brother’s in town with his band. We’re going out for dinner. But next week? If we’re not out on a case?” Will asks, suddenly sounding nervous.

Nico gives him a dry look. “You wanna stay after work. Put in unpaid time. In the spooky basement.”

“Yup.” Will beams at him.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Fine. Next Friday, I will permit you to stay late and do work you’re not being compensated for. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Will grins, plucking the eraser from the floor and tossing it back. “I’ll even cover the pizza.”

It becomes a routine, after that, nearly every Friday.

And before too long, case research begins bleeding over to Nico’s apartment, which isn’t far from the Bureau, after all. Somehow, Nico’s not surprised when that begins to evolve into something more; Nico putting on a movie, in disbelief that Will’s never seen it. This, inevitably, leads to Will falling asleep on Nico’s couch, Nico draping a blanket over him before heading to his own bed.

And if Friday nights begin leading to Saturday morning coffee, before Will heads back to home… well.

::

Will’s sprawled on the couch with a book when the apartment door clicks open. He raises a lazy hand to wave at his sister. “There’re leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. How was your date?”

“Lovely, thank you,” Kayla answers happily, kicking off her shoes and joining Will on the couch, shoving at his feet until he moves them out of her way.

“What did Luke want?” Kayla asks, reaching for the remote.

Will frowns. “Luke? Luke who?”

“Luke Castellan. Luke your ex.”

Will makes a face. “He’s not exactly an ex.”

“Well, he’s an ex-something,” Kayla mutters, beginning to flick through channels. “He called. Did you not see the message?”

::

Coffee is what Luke wants, apparently, and mid-morning the next day, Will excuses himself, vaguely telling Nico he has an errand to run.

Leaving the Bureau and walking up Ninth Street, he feels guilty about the white lie. And maybe a little guilty that he felt the need to lie in the first place. There’s no reason for it, Will reminds himself firmly. Luke is a colleague, same as Nico. The coffee meeting is about a case, ostensibly. It’s all on the up and up.

Nevertheless, waiting to cross the street to the coffee shop, all Will really wants to do is turn back the way he came. There’s a chilly breeze, and he pulls his blazer tighter around his shoulder. He wishes he’d brought his coat. He wishes he was back in the Bureau basement.

When Will pushes the door open at the Starbucks, Luke’s already sitting at a table by the window, all lanky height and tousled brown hair and dark, smoldering gaze. And okay, Will can admit to himself that it was attractive, once upon a time.

Luke stands, pulls Will in for a handshake, just a little too friendly, looking just a little too pleased at Will’s arrival. Waiting at the counter for his coffee, Will feels more than a little like fleeing, not entirely sure why.

“I heard about your reassignment,” Luke is saying once they’re both seated. “Field work, hey? How’s your spooky partner?”

Will cups his coffee with both hands, warming his cold fingers. “It’s been great, actually,” he says lightly. “Nico’s an excellent agent. We’ve had some really interesting cases.”

Luke grins. “Yeah? Aliens? I think I heard something about vampires.”

Will feels a sharp flash of annoyance, not in any mood to joke about a job he’s become very fond of, nor the partner he has very similar feelings for. Never mind that the maybe-vampire case almost culminated in Will losing that partner, permanently, something that continues to eat at him in quiet moments. “We’re just solving cases. No different than what you do.”

Will can hear the irritation in his own voice, and surely Luke can too. Luke holds up one hand in surrender. “Okay, okay, take it easy Will. I was just kidding.”

“What do you want, Luke?” Will asks, abruptly finding himself completely devoid of patience.

Luke looks surprised, but quickly recovers. “I wanted to get your input on a case, actually.”

The no need to be rude about it seems unspoken, but Will can’t find it in himself to care. The truth of it is that he doesn’t really like Luke Castellan, whatever they had together a couple of years ago aside. But if this is purely about work, Will supposes he can live with that. He takes a deep breath. “Sure. What’s the case?”

Luke reaches for his bag, extracting a file. “It’s a local case. Alexandria PD, they want our help on a serial killer profile. Three murders in the past six weeks. Victims vary in age, race, gender. No known connections to each other.”

Will frowns, feeling his shoulders relax a bit at the now-familiar feeling of sinking into a new mystery. “I take it there’s some kind of pattern?”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “The point of entry. Or rather, the lack of one.”

“What do you mean?”

“First victim, college student. Killed in her ten-by-twelve cinder block dorm room. She was found with the windows locked and the door chained from the inside. Second guy was found in a maintenance shed. Again, locked from the inside. The last incident, yesterday, was the top floor of a high security office building. Nothing at all on the security monitors. Janitor spoke to the victim minutes before the murder, didn’t see or hear a thing out of the ordinary.”

Will considers. “Suicides?”

“Each victim was found with their liver ripped out,” Luke informs him. “No cutting tools used.” Luke opens the file then, pulling out a photo and pushing it towards Will. A gory mess of someone’s midsection. Will raises his eyebrows.

“The killer what – used their bare hands?” Will asks, pulling the file closer for a better look.

“As far as we can tell, yeah.”

Will surveys the bloody evidence, impressed despite himself. “Physiologically that’s… pretty improbable. This sounds like it could be an X-File.”

Luke leans back. “Let’s not get carried away. What I’d like from you is a look over the case histories. Maybe come down to the crime scene. See what you think about a profile.”

Will glances up to meet Luke’s gaze. “Do you want me to ask Nico?”

Luke shrugs, seemingly trying for unconcerned. “If he wants to come along and give you a hand, sure. But just make sure he knows this is my case, Will. The thing is – our section leader’s all tied up with another investigation at the moment, and I’ve been given clearance to run this on my own. If I can break a case like this one, it might just be the bump up the ladder I need. And who knows? If you can help, maybe it’ll be your ticket out of the basement.”

::

Nico seems willing enough, his eyes lighting up at the mere mention of the extracted livers. Will smiles to himself. They’ve reached a point in their partnership where Will knows exactly what will get his partner going, and it warms him a little every time he’s able to provide it. Even if it is in the form of manual dissection.

It’s a short drive to the crime scene, a glass-fronted six-storey office building on a block lined with several other such buildings.

“No balconies, no fire escapes,” Nico notes as they approach the entrance, glancing up at the shiny exterior, glinting in the early afternoon sun. “And those windows don’t open. Can’t imagine it would have been easy to get to the sixth floor from the outside.”

The place does seem particularly secure, Will thinks, as they pass through two different checkpoints just to reach the elevators. He takes note of the security cameras in the lobby and the elevator.

All’s quiet on the sixth floor when they arrive, no sign of Luke or his partner. The office where the murder occurred is a far cry from their office at the Bureau. Besides the fact that it’s currently a crime scene, it’s impressive; vast, with floor-to ceiling windows and a desk that Will’s pretty sure is worth more than all the furniture he owns. If he and Nico had this kind of space in the basement, they could add a sofa. Maybe a stationary bike.

“Just think how many filing cabinets you could fit in here,” Will murmurs.

Nico grins. “Right? I could finally take my cryptid art collection out of storage, start a whole gallery wall.” He spreads his arms out in front of him.

“Wait – what?” Will laughs, but Nico just waggles his eyebrows, immediately getting to work. He pulls out a camera (not the digital one, Will notes) and evidence bags. He drops to a crouch, a close inspection of the carpet around where the most recent victim was found. Will takes in the dried blood, soaked through lush, sand-colored carpet, yellow plastic evidence markers scattered over the room like fallen leaves.

A moment later Nico turns to glance up at Will, brow furrowed. “You said there was nothing on the cameras, right?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “And there was a security guard right outside the door.”

Nico chews on it for a long moment, thinking. “This is definitely an X-File. Why didn’t they just send a consult request straight downstairs?”

Will shrugs, ignoring the flash of guilt. “Luke and I knew each other at the Academy. I’m sure he just felt more comfortable approaching me.”

Nico, unfortunately, is an excellent profiler, when it comes right down on it. Normally Will doesn’t mind much, having that intense gaze directed at him rather than any given murderer. He tries not to give it too much thought, but the truth is he usually likes the attention. Right now, however, he could do without it. Nico rises, watching Will a little too intently.

“And I make people… uncomfortable?” Nico guesses.

Will grimaces. “Look, Luke likes to play by the book. He thinks your methods, your theories –”

“Are spooky?” Nico’s lips quirk.

“You know how people are.”

Nico holds Will’s gaze a moment longer, all big dark eyes and long lashes, just long enough for Will to feel butterflies stirring in his stomach. Honestly. Does Nico know what he’s doing?

“And Luke…” Will shifts awkwardly, wishing he didn’t always have to be so obvious, an open book. “He wanted to make sure you knew this is his case.”

Nico rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. He thinks it’ll be good for his career.”

Nico huffs dismissively and Will feels a rush of fondness. He’s known Nico less than a year, but he’d never call him competitive, nor does he seem to have any interest in climbing the corporate ladder. He’s truly just about the case. Finding answers. Solving the puzzle. At the very least, it aligns nicely with Will’s own moral code, and at the most, it endears him deeply.

Will glances toward the doorway, checking to make sure Luke hasn’t arrived yet. He lowers his voice. “Luke likes to come out on top. You know the type. But it’s not as if we really have to work with him. We’ll just take a look at the evidence, give our expert opinion and then move along.”

Nico nods. “I can live with that.”

“You’re the expert,” Will adds under his breath, aiming a light kick at Nico’s shoe.

Nico laughs, low. He looks pleased. “I already knew that,” he says, kicking Will back.

“Agent Solace is right in here,” comes a voice from the hallway, and they both turn.

“Will,” Luke grins, striding into the room. “Sorry I’m late.” He reaches out to shake Will’s hand, his gaze lingering just long enough to make Will take a step back. He’s sure Luke does want their help on his way up the ladder, has no doubt that that’s exactly what prompted this meeting. But he’s getting the feeling the other man may have other intentions as well. And Will is very much not interested.

Will clears his throat. “Not a problem. We just got here ourselves. Luke Castellan – Nico di Angelo.” He gestures between the two men.

The two shake hands. Nico watches Luke even as Luke turns away, a slight furrow to his brow.

“And this is my partner, Annabeth Chase,” Luke adds, as a serious-looking dark-haired woman enters the room, her gaze thoughtful. She brightens as she catches sight of Will.

“Agent Solace,” Annabeth extends her hand. “It’s good to see you. How are you enjoying field work?”

“I’m loving it, actually,” Will smiles. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Will hadn’t realized Annabeth was partnered with Luke. He briefly worked with her at Quantico before she was transferred to Violent Crimes. She’s a consummate professional, almost always more knowledgeable than anyone else in the room. Just her presence is reassuring.

“Nice to see you again, Agent Chase,” Nico says.

Annabeth nods, a small smile. “You as well. I was pleased to hear you’d be able to offer your expertise,” she tells Nico. “I suggested to Agent Castellan that this case might be in your wheelhouse.”

Luke clears his throat. “Annabeth, they’re purely here as consultants. At least this time.” He offers Will a winning smile that Will doesn’t return. There’s the slightest crease to Annabeth’s brow as she flicks a glance between them.

“So, Agent di Angelo, what do you think?” Luke asks, light. “Does this look like the work of little green men?”

“Gray,” Nico says, deadpan. His expression doesn’t change, but Will knows him well enough to take in the slight tensing in his posture. He feels its echo in his own jaw.

“Excuse me?” says Luke, still smiling.

“Gray,” Nico corrects. “You said green men. The Reticulan skin tone is actually more of a dark gray. They’re notorious for their extraction of terrestrial human livers, due to iron depletion in the Reticulan galaxy.”

Luke’s smile falters. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do you have any idea what liver and onions go for on Reticula?” Nico asks, just this side of impolite. “Excuse me.” He turns, crossing to the other end of the room.

Luke looks sour at this, but makes no comment. Will lingers near Luke and Annabeth, all three watching Nico. He crouches at the wall across from the desk, pulling out tweezers and extracting something from the carpet, then glancing to a vent cover near the ceiling. He pulls over a chair, climbing on it and proceeding to dust the vent cover for prints.

Luke frowns. “What the hell is he doing? That ventilation shaft is maybe six by eighteen inches. Even if someone could squeeze through it, it’s screwed in place.”

Nico walks back towards them, holding up an evidence bag. Inside, just visible, is a thin metal thread. “Well, something came through there.”

::

Will’s at the Bureau early the next morning, but when the door of the basement stairwell falls shut behind him, he can see light already shining through the door of the office.

“Come take a look at this,” Nico says as Will enters, not turning from where he’s hunched over a lightbox.

“What, not even a good morning?”

Nico’s head shoots up. He blinks, wide-eyed and bemused, taking a minute to focus on Will. “Hi?”

Will laughs. “Hi.” He hangs his coat and crosses the room, pulling up a chair.

“This is the print I lifted from the vent cover yesterday,” Nico says, tapping a slide on the left. “These others are from an old X-File. I’ve found records of nine murders, Alexandria and surrounding area, undetermined points of entry. Each victim had their liver removed. Prints were found at nine of the ten crime scenes.” Nico sits back so Will can lean forward over the table, squinting at the prints.

“Nine murders,” Will says slowly. “Luke never mentioned…”

“He’s probably not aware of them,” Nico says. “Didn’t do his research. These prints were lifted before he was born, in Fort Hunt.” He taps the right side of the lightbox, five sets of prints. “And these two others were lifted probably before his mother was born.”

Will frowns, peering at the small type on the sheets on the lightbox. “Wait – the dates on these are 1939 and… 1909?”

“Yup. And fingerprinting was just coming into its own in 1909, so there’s not a lot of print evidence from that time period, but I found records of two other murders that year that sure sound similar.” Gingerly, Nico hands Will two handwritten reports, the paper brittle under protective plastic sheets.

Will sits back, scanning through the text; neatly handwritten records from some agent who’s likely long dead, a voice back echoing through the decades.

“Thirty nine year old woman, found dead in a room locked from the inside,” Will reads, frowning. “Cause of death, blood loss, major trauma to victim’s abdomen, liver appears to have been forcibly removed.” Will shakes his head, bewildered. “That’s bizarre.” He double-checks the date at the top of the page – May 3rd, 1909. “Do you think the murders this month were copycats?”

Nico shakes his head. “Not copycats. Each fingerprint is unique, right? The prints I lifted yesterday are a perfect match to the ones in 1909 and 1939.”

Will frowns. “How, though?” He returns his attention to the slides on the lightbox, now looking more closely. “And why are the prints so long?” Each one looks stretched, elongated. Not like any prints Will’s ever seen before. At first he’d assumed the records of the historical prints were somehow compromised. It’s not unusual for decades-old files to be damaged in some way. But as he looks closer, Will realizes none of the text on the slides is stretched, only the prints. Including the ones from the office building yesterday.

“Not sure yet.” Nico shrugs. “But these murders seem to occur in clumps, over the decades, right? There have only been three this year. I’m betting that means we can expect at least a couple more missing livers.”

“So we go to Violent Crimes and present a profile saying these crimes were committed by what – someone who’s over a hundred years old, yet still capable of overpowering a healthy, six-foot-two businessman?” Will asks, doubtful. He’s not questioning the evidence, or Nico’s research. But it’s a lot to wrap his mind around this early in the morning.

Nico grins. “And the guy should stand out in a crowd, with ten-inch fingers.”

Will laughs. “You know, Nico – this is incredible, but – I don’t know how much further we’ll be able to follow this line of inquiry. Bottom line, this is Luke’s case.” Will’s gut twists uncomfortably. He can already anticipate Luke’s reaction to this theory. ”He was pretty clear on that.”

“Not a problem,” Nico says. “Our X-File dates back to 1909. We had it first.”

Will glances back to the lightbox, his gaze drifting out of focus, considering.

“Look, how about this,” Nico says. “We have our investigation, and they have theirs. Never the twain shall meet.” There’s a spark in Nico’s eyes. Curiosity and discovery, a little manic. It’s become harder and harder to resist with each passing month.

Will nods. “Sure. I can get on board with that.”

Nico beams, radiant and inconveniently adorable.

Will laughs, glancing back to the report in his hand. He hands it back to Nico and crosses to his desk, in sudden need of a little space. “Hey, how’s your profile coming?” he asks.

“Actually,” Nico says, “I was thinking maybe you could take a crack at it.”

“But you – you’re the profiler. You’re the expert –”

Nico shrugs, apparently unconcerned with this. “Yeah, but Luke and Annabeth came to you for help. It makes sense for you to do the write-up.”

“I – don’t know if I can –” Will begins, awkward.

“Of course you can, Will.” Nico’s smile is warm. “You’re an excellent writer and you’re great at analysis. I’m always impressed when I read your field reports. Why don’t you give it a shot and then we can talk it over together?”

::

Will pushes back from his desk, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay,” he says. “wanna hear what I’ve got so far?”

Nico turns, grinning. “Always.”

Will rolls his eyes and begins reading aloud. “After careful review of these murders, I believe the killer to be a male, twenty-five to thirty-five years of age, with above average intelligence. His manner of entry has so far been undetectable. This may be due to his superior knowledge of the inner structure of buildings and duct works, he may be hiding in plain sight, posing as delivery or maintenance workers.

“The extraction of the liver is the most significant detail of these crimes. The liver posessess regenerative qualities. It cleanses the blood. The taking of this trophy is the transferring act for the killer, to cleanse himself of his own impulses.

“As the victims are unrelated and we cannot predict the next, we must utilize the fact that a killer will not always succeed in finding a victim. When this occurs, a serial killer may return to the site of a previous murder, hoping to recapture the emotional high. Given this, I believe our best course of action is to target these sites.”

Will sighs, tossing his papers on his desk and raising his eyes to Nico’s. The look on Nico’s face catches at Will’s heart. It’s not just approving, but fond. Proud.

“What?” he laughs, self-conscious.

“It’s good. I think you nailed it,” Nico says. “You left out the part about the killer being over a hundred years old, though. And being able to travel through vents.”

Will laughs. “Well, I don’t think Violent Crimes is quite ready for that. But it’s like you said – they’ll do their investigation, and we’ll keep looking for… alternate possibilities.”

They regard each other for a moment, Nico’s gaze still fond. Open. It makes Will want to give him more to smile about. Makes him want to keep Nico’s attention, his approval. It feels like a stupid impulse, childish. But then –

“Hold on,” Will says slowly, his memory suddenly catching up with their conversation this morning, with the bits and pieces of his profile. “There was another case – it could have been 1909 –” and Will’s up and heading for the file cabinet in the corner, the one where Nico keeps newspaper clippings, old magazine articles. Nico follows, watching as Will feverishly flips through folders in a bottom drawer.

“I was going through this stuff, when you were away sick a couple of weeks ago,” Will says. Where did he see it?

“Here!” he says, triumphant. He rises, newspaper clipping in his hand. “I don’t think the story about the death was even meant to be saved, the clipped article is about a geomagnetic storm. But there’s a little article on the back.” Will turns the paper, reading aloud, “a seventy-two year old man and his forty-five year old son were found dead in their home, apparent victims of an animal attack.”

Will scans further. “It says… both had significant wounds to the abdomen, no other trauma to the bodies. It doesn’t mention anything about missing livers, but –”

“But maybe it wouldn’t, if it was assumed to be an animal attack and it wasn’t investigated any further.” Nico’s eyes are alight with interest as he carefully takes the yellowed clipping from Will. “Yeah. This fits. And the dates line up perfectly.” Nico looks up, beaming. “You’re brilliant.”

Will snorts, but he can feel himself blushing. “I learned from the best,” he manages.

“So that’s – that’s five murders in 1939,” Nico says, his gaze going unfocused, the clipping loose in his hand. “And six in 1909.”

“I wonder if there are more,” Will says.

Nico nods slowly. “That’s definitely possible.” His gaze shifts back to Will. Will can almost hear the gears turning. “Wanna head over to the Library of Congress? I bet we can unearth a few more missing livers. Whoever finds the most buys dinner?”

Will laughs. “As appealing as that sounds – I think we need to present our profile to Violent Crimes.”

::

Luke and his team seem to be in agreement with Will’s profile, and that evening finds Will and Nico in the parking garage under the building where the last victim was killed. They’re in Nico’s car – a newer-model black sedan, shiny-clean and freshly detailed. While Nico’s always happiest in his own car, Will privately prefers the Bureau fleet cars. Although snacking is technically permitted in Nico’s car, he gets twitchy about crumbs.

So far, the stakeout has been profoundly unexciting. Will shifts, stretching. His stomach rumbles, and Nico quirks an eyebrow. Will sticks out his tongue.

Then, sudden in the silence of the parking garage, there’s a clanging and scrabbling in a nearby ventilation shaft. The agents glance at each other, alarmed. Will scrambles to sit up straight, then quickly and quietly follows Nico out of the car, both of them drawing their guns. Every little movement seems loud and resonant in the mostly-empty space.

“Call for backup,” Nico says under his breath.

The scrambling noises continue. A rat? Maybe a squirrel? It sure sounds like something bigger.

Will retreats a few steps, quiet as he can. “Position ten requesting backup,” he says into his radio, never taking his eyes from the ventilation shaft.

Will’s jaw is tight, heart pounding. He’s finding situations like this more harrowing ever since Nico’s near-exsanguination in St. Ambrose, his anxiety rising off the charts at the drop of a hat, a fierce thread of protectiveness running through it all. It’s only been a couple of months, though, he reminds himself. Things like this must get easier in time.

Nico creeps in closer, calm, focused, dress shoes quiet on the concrete. When he’s within a few yards of the ventilation shaft, he raises his voice to yell. “Federal agent, I’m armed. Proceed out of the vent slowly.”

Still half-expecting a rat or a stray cat, Will’s eyes widen as the hatch at the bottom of the duct is kicked open and a young man emerges. He slowly stands and turns, holding his hands in the air.

There’s the slam of car doors and the sound of footsteps, then the chatter of radios and voices as agents approach from the other end of the parking garage. Will slowly lowers his gun.

::

“He doesn’t look any older than thirty, does he?” Will murmurs to his partner. “You think he’s our guy from 1909?” They’re seated side by side in the darkened observation room. The man from the ventilation shaft is on the other side of the glass, so far cooperating with a lie detector test.

Nico grimaces. “If he is, we should ask him for his skincare routine before they lock him up.”

Will bites down a laugh.

The door to the observation room opens, Luke and Annabeth quietly filing in. Luke automatically takes the single empty chair. Will glances up to see something like disbelief flicker over Nico’s face. Nico quickly stands, offering his chair to Annabeth. She shakes her head. Nico, stubborn as always, remains standing next to her, propping himself against the wall at the back of the little room.

Will rises after Nico, quirking an eyebrow at Annabeth. She rolls her eyes and sits. Will joins Nico at the wall, bumping their shoulders together. Nico bumps back. Will stumbles and Nico snorts, grabbing his arm. Luke turns to give them both a disgusted look and they fall silent.

The man on the other side of the glass – Eugene Victor Tooms, apparently – answers the examiner’s questions in a slow, dreamy monotone. He’s slim, dark-haired. Unobtrusive looking. He’s employed by Animal Control, he says, and his story is that he was in the vent for work-related purposes.

The examination continues, running first through the usual biographical queries before pivoting to questioning about the recent murders. Tooms denies having killed any of the victims.

“Are you over one hundred years old?” the examiner asks.

Luke shifts in his chair, brow furrowed. “That must be a control question.”

“I had her ask it,” Nico murmurs.

“No,” says Tooms.

“Have you ever been to Fort Hunt?” the examiner asks.

“Yes.”

“In 1939?” the examiner asks.

“No.”

“Are you worried you’re going to fail this test?”

“Yes. Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

::

“He passed with flying colors,” the examiner tells the four agents in a conference room afterwards. “Either we’re not asking the right questions, or your suspect didn’t kill those people.”

Nico reaches for the readout, frowning over the results.

Annabeth nods. “I just spoke to the maintenance department at the building where we found him. They confirm that a strange smell was reported earlier in the day. Makes sense that Animal Control would be there investigating.”

Luke lets out a breath, frustrated. “Fuck. It’s a dead end.”

Will peers over Nico’s shoulder at the polygraph report. “Still doesn’t quite explain why he was there so late at night – crawling up an air duct, by himself. Without alerting security,” Will muses. Nico glances up, a quirk of his eyebrows in agreement with this assessment.

Luke shakes his head. “Will, he passed the test. His story checks out. This isn’t our guy.”

“No, Will’s right,” Nico says.

Luke turns his gaze on Nico, his expression dismissive. There’s a buzz of frustration under Will’s skin. It’s clear to him that Luke’s not going to put any stock in whatever Nico’s going to say, and he hasn’t even spoken yet.

“He lied on questions eleven and thirteen,” Nico says, tapping the readout. “His electrodermal and cardiographic responses are almost off the chart.”

Luke steps closer, just a little too far into Nico’s personal space. Will’s aware of precisely what constitutes Nico’s personal space at this point, not to mention who’s permitted to breach it. He feels the incursion as if it’s happening to his own body. Will pushes down an overwhelming, visceral desire to shove Luke out of the way.

“Was number eleven the hundred-year-old question?” Luke asks, hard. “Because I had a reaction to that stupid question too.”

“Can I see?” Annabeth asks mildly, reaching for the report.

“I don’t need you or that machine telling me this guy was alive in 1909!” Luke says, his voice rising.

Annabeth lowers the paper slowly to the table, shooting her partner a supremely unimpressed look. “Luke –”

“He’s the guy,” Nico says, obstinate.

“We’re letting him go,” Luke retorts. “It’s my case. It’s my call.” He turns to leave the room. “You coming, Annabeth?”

“Give me a minute,” Annabeth says, calm, and Luke rolls his eyes, the door slamming shut behind him.

The three of them stare at the door in silence for a moment.

“Nice guy,” Nico says, dry. “Seems like a real joy to work with.”

“He’s… stubborn.” Annabeth frowns. “He’s usually not quite this bad, honestly.”

Nico huffs. “You think I set him off?”

Annabeth gives him a wry smile. “It might have been mutual.” She pulls out a chair. “Can we take a closer look at these numbers?”

::

“Hey, you beat me here,” Nico says, opening the already-unlocked office door and beginning to pull off his coat. He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s not even 8:30, a good half-hour before Will usually appears. Will’s bent over his desk, scribbling into a notepad, coffee at his elbow. The coffee maker on the counter is half-empty. As Nico moves further into the office, he notices Will’s used one of his mugs, the one Frank got him for Christmas last year that says Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Nico smiles, opening his mouth to comment on this.

Will clears his throat. “Yeah. I had an idea and –”

Will’s voice, wet and wobbly, is a jolt to Nico’s solar plexus. “Will? What happened?”

“Sorry,” Will shakes his head, wiping at his cheeks as Nico approaches his desk. “It’s nothing really. I um – I thought I’d see if I could get in touch with any of the family members from the 1939 murders –”

“Oh –” Nico begins, an automatic understanding.

“Yeah.” Will gives a wet laugh, another swipe at his face. “I’m fine. I really am. Just, one of them – Nolan Campbell – his parents are still alive, both in their 80s. They live in the UK now, which is why I thought it would be okay to call them at eight in the morning. His mom was really lovely. She wanted to tell me all about Nolan. So she did.”

Nico shifts so he’s sitting on the edge of Will’s desk. “It was good of you to listen.”

Will lets out a long breath. “What else could I do?”

“Yeah.” Nico’s fingers itch to reach out, and before he’s completely thought it through, they have – a quick squeeze to Will’s forearm that makes his heart stutter. It gets a smile from Will, though, and that’s what counts.

Will shakes his head. “I don’t think I got any new information.”

“That’s not what matters,” Nico says immediately.

“I don’t know if Reyna would agree. Definitely Octavian wouldn’t.”

“Well. Fuck Octavian.”

“I hope they don’t keep too close an eye on our long distance usage. My dad – he would always get all bent out of shape about that.” Will makes a face.

“They don’t even notice,” Nico says. “Fucking Bureau probably spent five grand on staples last year.”

Will laughs, blue eyes sparkling up at Nico. His eyes are even prettier when he cries, Nico realizes with a jolt, bright blue and shining. Really not fair. Nico looks hideous when he cries, all splotchy and wild-eyed.

“He was a musician,” Will says.

“Who – the 1939 victim?”

“Yeah. His mom said. She was telling me how relieved she was that he wasn’t drafted – he had some kind of heart condition. And then he went and got murdered anyway.” Will takes a shaky breath. “She might be sending us a Christmas card. And I said I’d call back if – when we manage to solve the case.” Will carefully tears the corner off the sheet he was writing on – a name and phone number – pinning it securely to the bulletin board at the end of his desk, taking care to push the pin in all the way.

“He was murdered sixty years ago,” Will says, soft. “You’d never have known it, listening to his mom.”

Nico swallows. “Yeah. Those things stick with you.”

Will takes another deep breath, a little steadier now. “Sorry,” he says. “I guess I’ve been crying at work a lot lately.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay to have emotions.” Nico clears his throat. “Personally, I try to avoid them whenever possible, but I’m not exactly a model of mental health.”

Will smiles, lopsided and fond.

Honestly, Nico’s still hasn’t quite recovered from all the talking they’ve done in the last couple of months. He’s definitely never had a working relationship anything like this; emotions so close to the surface, heart-to-heart talks about work and family. In the aftermath, he finds himself feeling raw and exposed. Weirdly healthy, though. Oddly grounded. Though he still hasn’t figured out how to start those conversations in the first place, and he’s not convinced he ever will. Luckily, he’s got Will.

Will tilts to the side, bumping his arm into Nico’s leg where it’s still resting on Will’s desk.

Nico watches him for a second more before – “I have a job for you.”

Will’s lips twitch. “Yeah? Other than the job I’m already doing?”

“Remember that Polish bakery we found on Indiana Avenue?”

“This is a baked goods related job?”

“Yes,” Nico says, firm. “It’s a beautiful morning. You probably got here before it was light out. I want you to walk to Indiana Avenue and get a box of those poppy seed strudel things.”

Will snorts. “Weren’t you just criticizing my choice in breakfast foods like, a week ago?”

Nico regards Will solemnly. “Desperate times, Will.”

He has such a fucking ridiculous desire to lift his hand, brush his fingers across Will’s cheek. He can almost feel the rasp of stubble under his fingertips, can almost imagine the quirk of pink lips.

Quelling that urge as best he can, instead Nico plucks Will’s glasses from where they’re sitting on the desk, sure to keep his fingers away from the lenses. Breath held, heart pounding, he leans in, places the glasses carefully on Will’s face. Because that doesn’t quite count as touching, Nico decides. Nico’s stomach does a frankly impressive backflip as he gently pushes the glasses up the bridge of Will’s nose with the tip of his index finger.

Will’s smile softens into something that makes Nico’s insides turn to mush.

And – It’s just a crush, right? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. God, it’s been a long time since Nico’s had a crush on anyone. That must be why it feels like this with Will. Why it feels like more.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to distract me or get rid of me,” Will says, still puffy-eyed, but looking pleased.

“The sad truth is, you may never know for sure,” Nico says, sliding off the desk before he does something even stupider.

Will shakes his head, one more wipe at his face, and then he stands, bumping Nico on his way to the door. “Fine. And who’s covering breakfast?” he asks, eyes sparkling now in a way that makes Nico’s mind settle and his heart swell.

“You’re buying,” Nico says, deadpan.

::

And Will does feel lighter after the walk outside. Calmer. As much as Nico sounded like his mother, telling Will to go get some fresh air, he may have had a point.

“Good, you’re finally back,” Nico says, as Will returns with the pastries. “Come take a look at this.”

Will glances at the clock on the wall, laughing. “What do you mean, finally? I don’t think I was even gone for half an hour.”

“Oh.” Nico looks up, bemused. “Seemed like longer.” The new, shorter hair looks good on Nico, Will notes privately. It makes his face look younger, makes those big, dark eyes look even more dramatic.

“Any amount of time I’m gone is interminable,” Will teases. He drops the box of pastries on his desk, crossing the room and pulling up a chair to see what’s got his partner’s attention. He bumps his chair up against Nico’s and a brief battle ensues, but Will can tell Nico is far too eager to show him what he’s found to be much of a contender. He settles for nudging his chair up against Nico’s and peering over his shoulder.

Nico turns and shoots him a sweet smile, quick, his face inches away, and Will’s stomach flips. He frowns to himself, determinedly focusing on the prints in front of them and not the scent of Nico’s hair; rain-washed stone, something sharp and fresh.

“Okay, check this out,” Nico’s saying. “These are the prints they took from Tooms at the station last night, and these,” he taps the other side of the lightbox, the elongated prints, “are the ones I lifted from the vent in the office building two days ago.”

Will nods. “Okay. But they’re not even the same shape. The ones from the office building don’t even look human.”

“True, but now, look at this.” Nico raises an eyebrow at Will and then zips across the office to his laptop, his chair making a neat beeline on the linoleum. Will, not trusting his coordination or his probably-1960s-vintage chair, stands and follows, squinting at the screen over Nico’s shoulder.

“Here are the prints, side by side, and – voila.” Nico hits a few buttons, and the prints taken from Tooms last night stretch out, familiar elongated ovals. “A perfect match,” Nico announces, eyes bright.

Will blinks at the screen. “What the fuck,” he says flatly.

“I know!” Nico exclaims.

“But how–”

“No idea,” Nico shrugs, thrilled by it.

Will gazes at the screen, trying to wrap his mind around any logical explanation for this. Nico’s hunched over the laptop, carefully making small adjustments to the images, fiddling with the brightness and contrast. Will lifts his hand up in front of his face, considering the whorls of his own fingerprints. “Can you print out that fingerprint comparison?” he asks Nico.

“Yeah, sure.” Nico clicks through a few windows and a second later the printer on the counter hums to life. Will crosses the room to collect the sheets as they emerge.

“Oh. Fuck,” Nico says suddenly, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, draped over the back of the chair. Will hears the buzzing of Nico’s phone as he extracts it.

“Di Angelo,” he says. Then, “Okay, we’ll be right there.”

“Where –” Will begins as Nico stands.

“Another missing liver,” Nico says, grim.

Will shoots a longing look at the abandoned box of pastries. He folds the printed sheets carefully into quarters as he follows his partner out of the office.

::

“This is it, right?” Nico puts the car in park, glances up at the large, brick-fronted house they’ve just pulled up in front of.

Will double-checks the address he’d written down in their rush out of the Bureau. “Yup, 247. That’s the right one.”

They exit the car, and Nico leads them up a tree-lined drive, then wide stone steps. The front doors stand open, yellow crime scene tape standing out against dark, polished wood.

“Nice place,” Nico comments, glancing around as they step inside. “Maybe this guy likes high-end livers.” The floor is shining, immaculate hardwood, reflecting a crystal chandelier overhead.

“Think I could fit my entire apartment in this entryway,” Will says under his breath. He and Nico follow the sound of activity and voices through the entryway into a vast dining room.

“Let’s run a check on liver transplants in the next twenty four hours,” Luke is saying as they enter. “Maybe this thing is black market.”

Annabeth looks skeptical. “Luke, the way the liver was ripped out – can you really imagine it being of any use as a transplant?”

“Look, at this point I’m willing to give any theory a shot.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Nico says as he and Will approach.

Luke turns, a reflexive scowl as he catches sight of Nico. “I’m willing to give any sane theory a shot. Sorry, Will,” he says, pointedly turning away from Nico, “but I only want qualified members of the investigating team at the crime scene.”

“I asked them to come, Luke,” Annabeth says, frowning.

“What’s the matter, Castellan? Worried I’m going to solve your case?” Nico asks, cool. He goes to walk further into the room and Luke steps in front of him, blocking his path. Nico raises an eyebrow, not backing down.

“Luke, we have authorized access to this crime scene.” Will cuts in, trying for cool and collected, though his heart is pounding in his throat and all he really wants to do is turn and run back to the car. He moves to stand beside Nico. He can feel the tension radiating off his partner. “A report of you obstructing another officer’s investigation might stick out in your personnel file.”

Before Luke can respond, Will grabs the sleeve of Nico’s jacket, physically pulling him over to the corner of the room where the collection of evidence markers is densest.

“I could have taken him. He’s only like, a foot taller than me,” Nico mutters. But he follows willingly enough.

Will snorts. “Yeah, but I’m willing to bet he doesn’t fight fair. Let’s just have a look around and get out of here. The two of you are making me nervous.”

“He started it,” Nico grumbles.

“I know. Let’s just… try to get along for a bit longer.”

Nico rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder into Will’s. Will fights a smile, mouthing be nice.

Nico mouths back, hand to his chest, who, me? and Will laughs, too loud. Grinning, Nico walks over to the fireplace, a close examination of the mantel.

Will scrubs a hand over his face, taking a second to steady his breathing. This collaboration is already starting to feel like a terrible idea. Will has always hated conflict, always shied away from it. Austin was the mediator, at home. Will was the one who’d avoid the situation altogether if he could manage it. He still prefers it that way.

“You okay, Solace?” Annabeth asks, low, walking over to join him a moment later.

“Yeah,” Will sighs, glancing over to where Luke is speaking to a police officer a few feet away. “I’m fine. Just – want to get this case dealt with.”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I’m sorry he’s being such an ass. I’ve never seen him so territorial before. We really do appreciate your help.”

Will nods, tired.

Luke joins them a moment later. “So, what do you think?”

“Well,” Will says. “It sure matches the profiles of the previous victims – liver extracted, no obvious point of entry.”

Luke’s nodding, brow furrowed, his gaze on the chalk outline.

“Actually – Nico found some prints you should take a look at,” Will adds, remembering what he and Nico were doing before they were interrupted with the news of yet another victim. “The prints taken from Tooms last night matched –”

“Okay, but this isn’t Tooms,” Luke interrupts.

“It’s Tooms,” Nico announces, his voice unexpected at Will’s shoulder.

“We cleared Mr. Tooms last night,” Luke says, his voice tight.

Nico shrugs. “There’s a vent over the fireplace. The vent cover was removed, and I found metal threads on the mantel, same as the crime scene at the office building.” He holds up an evidence bag. “And I’m pretty sure the prints I just lifted from the vent are going to match, too.”

“What the fuck are you saying, di Angelo? That the killer came through the fucking vent?”

Nico just quirks an eyebrow and heads for the door, thankfully electing not to antagonize Luke any further this time. Will begins to follow his partner out, feeling a headache starting to throb between his eyes, a knot of tension in his shoulders.

“You leaving too?” Luke asks, catching up to Will in the entryway.

“Yeah. Like I mentioned, Nico was doing a print comparison, evidence from the other crime scenes. Here, I can show you.” Will fishes the printout from his pocket, unfolding it and offering it to Luke.

Luke just scowls at the paper, though, seemingly reluctant to even touch it. “What the fuck is that?”

“These are Tooms’ prints.” Will taps the paper. “And these are the ones Nico lifted from the third crime scene.” He indicates the elongated prints.

“Your partner doesn’t even understand elementary print collection,” Luke says, disbelieving.

“I know they look strange, but they’re a match –” Will tries.

“You can go ahead and tell your partner to leave those prints alone,” Luke says with finality.

Will lets out a breath, sharp. “Look, Luke. You’re the one who asked for our input on this. Why bother if you’re going to block our investigation at every turn?”

“I’m not blocking your investigation,” Luke says, his voice rising. “Your partner’s got a screw loose. Did you hear those questions during the polygraph last night?”

Will’s in no mood for further argument. “I’m going back to the office. I’ll check in with you and Annabeth later,” he says.

Luke scoffs. “You know, Annabeth said di Angelo was a good agent, that we’d stand a better chance of solving this thing with him on board. So far, all I see is the two of you slowing us down.”

“Luke, Nico’s been working his ass off on this case. He’s found evidence of historical murders with the same MO –”

Luke doesn’t even seem to be listening. “Di Angelo had a decent reputation, back when he worked for Violent Crimes, but he’s lost his marbles working down in that basement.”

Will opens his mouth to protest, but Luke continues –

“You know, maybe it is for the best, that we’ve got the two of you on this case. Maybe your department needs to be exposed for what it really is. Octavian’s wanted the X-Files shut down for years.” Luke pauses. “He’s a buddy of mine, you know.”

Will blinks, a chill running through him. “Are you threatening us?”

Luke hesitates. When he speaks again, his tone is slightly more conciliatory. “Just trying to give you some friendly advice, Will. Give it some thought.”

Will shakes his head, turning to leave.

“Hey,” Luke says, sharp, a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Will jerks away from the touch. “The victim’s, Luke.”

Will fully expects a (completely justified) rant about Luke’s behavior on the drive back to the office. Nico’s uncharacteristically quiet, though, shooting Will an appraising look as he eases himself into the passenger seat and then flicking the radio on low. Will closes his eyes, tilting his head against the cool glass of the window.

::

“You okay?” Nico finally asks as they let themselves into the basement office.

“Headache,” Will says, short, dropping into his chair. He rubs at the bridge of his nose.

Nico hums in understanding. He digs in a drawer for a moment. “Tylenol?” He shakes the bottle at Will.

“Please.”

Nico tosses the little bottle across the office, a neat shot that should have landed directly in Will’s outstretched palm. Will fumbles it and sighs, dropping out of his chair to crawl under his desk.

Nico laughs, but when Will surfaces again, the other man is on his feet, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Where are you off to?” Will asks, blearily looking around for his water bottle.

“Coffee. I think you need it.” Nico says simply, a squeeze to Will’s shoulder as he walks past, collecting his coat at the door.

“God, yes,” Will groans, dropping his head heavily to the desk. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He’s tired and muddled and the words are out before he realizes what he’s said. He freezes, head to the wood of his desk, feeling his face heat.

There’s a pause across the room, then a huff of laughter. “I’ll be right back,” Nico says, his voice softer than before.

::

Will’s mostly recovered his composure by the time Nico returns with the coffee, flipping through files with (finally) a pastry on a paper napkin next to him. When Nico hands over the Dunkin’ cup, Will accepts it gratefully, taking a small sip and then several gulps after determining the temperature is below-scalding. He glances up to see Nico watching him, something soft in his gaze.

“What?” Will laughs, self-conscious. Nico shakes his head, smiling. A second later Will feels Nico’s touch at his wrist, making his stomach lurch pleasantly; a brush of fingers over bare skin.

Will blinks up at the other man.

“Didn’t realize it was formal Wednesday,” Nico says, his voice catching lower than Will expected.

“Oh,” Will laughs, flustered, glancing down to the silver cufflinks he put on this morning. “Those were my dad’s. My mom gave them to me when I was in Fort Worth.”

“Nice,” Nico murmurs. They gaze at each other for a moment, heat buzzing in the air between them. There’s something unreadable in Nico’s expression. Something thoughtful, maybe resolving. Something warm.

Will glances away, suddenly eager for a change of subject.

“You know, I think I’d like to see if they’ve got the autopsy report yet – from the victim at the office building,” Will says.

Nico nods. “Yeah, good idea. You gonna head upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Will stands. He supposes he’ll have to. He’d prefer to avoid interacting with Luke as much as he can, honestly. But he at least can pretend to be a grown up about this.

“You won’t be offended if I don’t come along?” Nico asks, dry. “I’m not sure my presence would be appreciated.”

“No, you don’t have to come.” Will makes a face. “Look, I’m – I’m sorry about Luke. I didn’t have any idea he was going to be… the way he’s been.”

Nico shakes his head, dismissive. “Definitely not your fault.”

::

Will takes the stairs up to the second floor, giving himself a bit more time to mentally prepare. The gods must be smiling on him, anyway, because when he reaches the Violent Crimes section, it’s quiet, Luke’s cubicle empty. Will rounds the partition to Annabeth’s, knocking softly on the dividing wall.

Annabeth’s head rises at the sound.

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Will asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Annabeth smiles. “Here, pull up a chair. Luke just left for lunch.”

“Oh,” Will says, “that’s – that’s good to know.” He hopes his relief isn’t too obvious. But it probably is. He can feel the throbbing in his head decrease by a couple of degrees.

Annabeth’s lips twitch. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I was just going over the autopsy report from the third victim –”

“Oh, perfect. That’s mostly why I came up here.” Will grabs a chair from the corner, pulling up next to Annabeth when she shifts to make room.

“It’s odd,” Annabeth’s saying, thoughtful. “What do you make of this?” She flips to the third page in the report, the toxicology screen, tapping a line with her finger and pushing it over to Will.

Will reads it over, frowning. “They found… evidence of an unknown sedative compound. That is odd.”

“Yes. It looks to be something that was ingested very shortly before the victim’s demise.”

“So something administered by the murderer, maybe?” Will asks, scanning down the rest of the page.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Annabeth agrees. “No obvious site of administration, though, and the perpetrator doesn’t seem to have used any substance that the tox screen recognized.”

“Anything similar on the previous autopsies?” Will asks.

“Nothing so obvious,” Annabeth says. “There were some wonky tox results on the first victim, but nothing as specific as this. And you know what else is strange,” Annabeth continues, flipping a couple of pages, “there’s no one living at the address Tooms provided at the police station.”

“Sketchy,” Will says. “Was it an old address, maybe?”

“That’s what I thought too,” Annabeth says, “but there’s no record of him ever living in that apartment, or any others in that block. I checked with the building management this morning.”

There’s an uncomfortable knot in Will’s stomach, growing. Luke’s positive that Tooms isn’t the guy, but there are just too many coincidences to ignore. He thinks back to his long-distance call this morning, a mother halfway across the world still mourning her son decades later.

“Hey, back at the crime scene, you mentioned some fingerprint evidence,” Annabeth says.

“Yeah,” Will says slowly.

“Not ready to share with the class yet?” Annabeth smiles.

Will sighs. “No. It’s not that. Just –” He glances around the cubicle farm, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone nearby. “I – I don’t want to cause problems. For Nico.”

Annabeth’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

Will grimaces, wondering how much he should share. The idea of getting some of the weight off his chest is tempting. And he’s not worried about Annabeth reporting everything he says to Luke.

“Luke… doesn’t like Nico. Obviously,” Will begins. He chances a glance to Annabeth, who looks sympathetic. “And I know that Octavian isn’t a big fan of Nico’s either, or of our department. Luke – he mentioned something earlier, at the crime scene. He kind of alluded to being friends with Octavian, that Luke would report back to him, if he thought Nico wasn’t… handling things the way Luke thought he should,” Will finishes, awkward. He really doesn’t like the feeling that he’s trying to tattle on Luke – never mind that Luke just threatened to do the same to Nico. But he’s feeling nauseous and exhausted about the whole thing. It feels a tiny bit better telling Annabeth.

Annabeth taps her pen on her desk, a twist to her mouth. “Well,” she says finally, “last I checked, Octavian didn’t have any friends.”

Will breathes out a laugh, nervous.

“I won’t tell you not to worry about it, but I think Luke’s mostly just blowing off steam, to be honest,” Annabeth says. “I don’t believe he has a closer relationship to Octavian than anyone else in the department. And Luke certainly isn’t Nico’s supervisor, or yours.”

Will feels that impulse he always does, to smooth things over, to reassure that he’s okay. “Thanks, Annabeth. That’s – good to hear. And look, I know this is Luke’s case, and I definitely don’t want to be the one to step on his toes, or to be responsible for bringing Nico into a situation where he does the same thing –”

“It’s not just Luke’s case,” Annabeth interrupts. “It’s our case.”

“Oh.” Will frowns, diverted. “He – he said something about your section leader being involved in another case, so Luke was running this one on his own –”

Annabeth’s eyebrows rise higher and higher as Will stammers out this sentence, and Will feels himself going red with realization.

“Oh shit.” Will presses a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, unimpressed. “Our section leader is away, yes. So Luke and I were asked to lead this case.”

“He – he didn’t – specifically mention that,” Will says haltingly. “I’m – I’m sorry, Annabeth. I didn’t mean to –”

Annabeth’s already shaking her head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. It’s not entirely surprising to me. But I’m glad you mentioned it. Even if you didn’t mean to.”

Will lets out a breath. “This is why they keep me in the basement,” he mutters. “So I can’t embarrass myself by talking to my colleagues.”

Annabeth lets out a laugh. “Really, don’t worry about it. I’d love to hear about the fingerprint evidence, though. If you feel comfortable telling me.”

“I showed the prints to Luke this morning – I don’t know if he mentioned…” Will trails off as Annabeth’s mouth twists into a frown.

“He didn’t,” she says.

Will sighs. “Okay. I’ll give you the run-down, then.” Will is hesitant at first – because Nico’s findings are honestly bizarre and as much as he’s gotten used to bizarre in the basement, up here in the noonday light shining over the cubicles, he knows that things tend to fit better into boxes. He and Annabeth have similar backgrounds – medicine, science. There’s no reason for her to accept something that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

“That’s incredible,” Annabeth says, something like wonder in her eyes. “I’d love to have a look at the prints later. Have you thought of any explanation for them being elongated like that?”

“It’s weird, right?” Will agrees, excitement growing with such an easy reception. “I’d thought of some disorder like Ehlers-Danlos, where the skin has increased elasticity, but this is extreme.”

Annabeth nods. “Maybe… I wonder if there could be an extreme manifestation of that disorder, something that’s never been documented. Or maybe some condition that would cause a rapid increase in collagen. If Nico truly thinks the murderer is accessing the victims through the ductwork… something like that might make sense, right? An extreme variant of a disorder that causes hypermobility?”

“Definitely,” Will agrees.

Annabeth’s phone buzzes on her desk. “Oh shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes,” she says, distracted. “I’d love to talk more about this though, and I’d love to come have a look at the prints.”

They both rise. “That would be great. Any time,” Will says, sincere.

“Walk with me down to the main floor?” Annabeth says.

“Sure.” Will stands, following Annabeth out of the cubicle maze.

“Hey, it was good talking to you,” he says as they enter the stairwell. It really was. Will feels as if some of the weight’s been lifted from his shoulders.

“You too,” Annabeth smiles. “I always liked our chats when I was at Quantico.”

Will catches sight of the cafeteria sign as they exit the stairwell at the main floor. “Oh, meatball soup today,” he says. “I better go tell Nico. He gets grouchy when he misses meatball soup day.”

“I’ve never tried the meatball soup,” Annabeth says. “Is it good?”

“Well.” Will makes a face. “It’s –” He shoots a quick look around the lobby. “To be completely honest, it’s pretty mediocre. But Nico was so excited for me to try it the first time I just – I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

Annabeth smiles. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

::

Nico’s very interested in the updates from Annabeth, and he and Will discuss matters as they take the elevator to the eighth floor, and as they make their way through the cafeteria line and then through their meatball soup. They’re in the stairwell, heading back down to the basement when Will remembers – “Annabeth mentioned that Alexandria PD checked out Tooms’ apartment, looks like it was a cover. No one’s lived there in years.”

“Well that’s suspicious.”

Nico’s quiet as they reach the basement and unlock the office. He crosses to his desk, digging for a file. “What was the address of Tooms’ apartment?”

“Um – an apartment building on Carrington Place, I think,” Will says. “I can’t remember the number.”

Nico considers the file for a long moment before looking back to Will. “I have an idea,” he says, slow.

“When do you not?” Will grins. He shifts to sit on the edge of his desk.

Nico ignores this. “103-66 Exeter Street.”

“What’s there?”

“Well,” Nico begins, “I was looking through the historical files, while you were upstairs earlier. One of the victims in 1909 was killed at 66 Exeter. Another was killed two blocks away. 66 Exeter was the address listed for one Eugene Victor Tooms in 1909.”

“Interesting,” Will says. “That’s got to be… what? A grandfather? Great-grandfather?” He’s beginning to feel the tell-tale post-lunch desire for a nap and it feels difficult to force his brain into mathematical calculations.

“Possibly,” Nico allows. “But what about the prints? Prints from 1909 are a match to the ones taken yesterday.”

“That could be genetics,” Will says slowly, though he’s not really convinced himself. “It might also explain other patterns, the sociopathic attitudes and behavior. It begins with one family member, who raises the next, who raises the next…”

Nico looks skeptical. “Could be.”

“Do you think Tooms is living in the building on Exeter?”

“I think someone is,” Nico says rather mysteriously. He stands from his desk, a familiar glint in his eye. “Wanna go for a drive?”

::

Will lets out a jaw-cracking yawn as Nico parks on Exeter Street. He hears Nico snort beside him. It’s a brisk, sunny day, a nice change of pace from the dim basement and the stiff tension at the murder scene this morning. Will takes a deep breath of spring air as he steps out of the car, taking a second to turn his face up to the sunlight. As much as he’s grown to love the cozy basement office, he does sometimes miss having a window, the opportunity to follow the passage of the sun across the sky over the day.

Will looks over to see Nico watching him, a small smile on his face.

“Beautiful day to solve a murder,” Nico says.

It’s a short walk up the block to number 66. The street is filled with derelict buildings, some boarded up. None look habitable. They climb the cement stairs together. The entrance to the building was probably pretty at one time, two tall wooden doors with little crescent windows at the top. Now, though, one door is missing entirely, a pane of glass broken in the one still standing.

The building is dark once they leave the front entryway and both men reach for their flashlights. Will takes a moment to scan the hallway, blinking as his eyes adjust. The place is dilapidated, but it doesn’t look to be in any immediate danger of collapse. They pause, checking the numbers on the dusty doors. Down the hall there’s a skittering; some variety of small animal, probably.

“This way,” Nico says, muted in the dusty hall, and Will follows. They near the end of the hallway and the door to 103 swings open at Nico’s touch.

It’s a small apartment, bare but for some debris around the edges of the room, filtered sunlight attempting to penetrate a dirty window on the far wall. Will crosses the room to scan a small bedroom off to the side, the smaller room in a similar state, the single window boarded up. The whole place smells sour, something rotten catching at the back of Will’s throat. He suppresses a shudder.

He can’t help glancing over his shoulder, squinting into every corner, though he’s sure the room is empty. It feels claustrophobic somehow, closing in. Will’s back in the main room of the apartment quickly, reluctant to linger.

“Nothing in the bedroom,” Will says, his voice coming back to him in the empty space.

“Look at this,” Nico says, quiet. He’s in the corner, his attention on a battered mattress propped up against the wall. He tucks his flashlight under his arm and pulls on latex gloves.

Will approaches, donning gloves as well. Together, they shift the mattress and lower it to the floor, careful not to stir up too much dust.

“Jesus,” Will murmurs, blinking at a hole in the wall that had been hidden by the mattress.

Both men approach the opening cautiously, but the floor surrounding it seems solid enough. There seems to be a ladder inside, leading to somewhere below. Nico crouches and presses on the wall around the opening, testing the integrity of the plaster. He grabs a hold of the top rung of the ladder, gives it a shake. It doesn’t budge.

Nico turns, quirking an eyebrow. “Spot me?”

Will grimaces, but takes a step closer. There’s a creeping feeling here, visceral and wrong, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He opens his mouth to voice this to his partner, despite the fact that he doesn’t think he can explain why this feels like such a bad idea. He’s well aware that “I have a bad feeling about this” isn’t scientific in any way.

But before Will can think it through any further, Nico’s through the opening, a nimble climb down to whatever lies beneath. Will hesitates, wondering if it’s more prudent to stay above in case he needs to call for backup, or an ambulance if the ladder isn’t as sturdy as it looks. But the bottom appears to be only a story below, and Will sighs, turning to follow his partner down. He finds his footing a moment after Nico, who automatically reaches a hand out to steady him as Will misses the last rung.

They pause, casting flashlight beams around the dark space they’ve found themselves in. The smell is worse down here; damp and mildewy. Something rotting.

“Looks like an old coal cellar,” Will says, low. There’s no reason to keep their voices down, not really, but, there’s a strange, pressing feeling, like they’re being watched. Or stalked. Will flicks his flashlight back on, his other hand brushing the gun at his belt, just making sure.

The smell of rot grows stronger the further in they walk, the air cool and clammy. The ceiling is low enough that Will has to duck to avoid pipes. Clinging cobwebs catch on their hair and the concrete floor is cracked and uneven. The close atmosphere combined with the stench and the pounding behind Will’s eyes is making him queasy.

At the far end of the cellar there’s a bend in the building, what looks like it could lead to a room, or a hallway, but it turns out to be more of a nook, plaster crumbling to the floor.

Nico approaches for a closer look, cautious.

“Careful,” Will murmurs. “That wall looks like it might come down on you.” The source of the smell must be nearby. Will’s eyes are watering.

“No,” Nico says slowly, looking it over. “I don’t think it’s part of the building’s structure. Someone… made this.”

“What?”

“Look,” Nico takes a step to the side so Will can approach. The sight before them doesn’t make sense at first, revealed in increments by the twin flashlight beams. But as Will looks longer, he realizes it’s a mess of rags and bits of newspaper, somehow all glued together into a misshapen structure that seems to have become part of the wall around it.

“This is a nest,” Nico says, equal parts amazed and horrified. Still clad in latex gloves, he presses his fingers against the structure. The surface gives under his touch and then slowly regains its shape when Nico pulls back. Something green oozes out. Will leans closer, wanting a better look but not eager to touch. Then, he draws back suddenly, fighting down a gag.

“It looks like – the green stuff – I think it’s bile.” Will takes another step back. “How is that – do you think someone lives in there?” His brain is fighting to make sense of this at the same time as it’s screaming at him to run.

Nico gazes at the structure, an abomination of a paper mache. “I don’t think anyone lives in there so much as… hibernates.”

Will shudders. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted to get away from a place faster. He glances over his shoulder, convulsive, feeling more than ever that there are eyes on him. “Hibernates?” he asks under his breath.

“Imagine if…” Nico takes a step back from the wall and turns to Will, his eyes serious in the dark space. “What if some genetic mutation could allow a man to awaken every few decades? And what if he could sustain himself for that hibernation period by consuming human livers?”

The horror Will’s feeling is somewhat mirrored on his partner’s face, but there’s also that familiar look of amazement and discovery in Nico’s dark eyes.

“What would - what could the evolutionary advantage be? To such a mutation?” Will asks, trying for reasonable. He’s still half-trying to convince himself that this cannot be possible. But he can’t help but think of the bizarre, elongated prints. The unidentified substance on the autopsy report. The impossible points of entry. If those things can be true, why not this?

Nico pauses, his gaze drifting. “Hard to say. I mean, longevity, I suppose?”

“To what end? And what about… reproduction?”

“Yeah,” Nico says thoughtfully, seemingly not particularly put off by having this discussion in the crumbling basement of a lair possibly belonging to a genetically mutated serial killer. “Good point.”

“In any case”, Will says. “He’s not here now, but he’s going to come back. At some point.” He glances over his shoulder again, nervous. “Can we – why don’t we get a sample from this… nest.” Will grimaces, approaching the wall again and digging in his coat pocket for a sample tube.

There’s just so much of the green gunk, everywhere. He’s more aware of it the longer he looks, seeping out in gluey drips and congealed to a brownish yellow across the surface like some kind of horrible glaze. Will carefully collects a sample, dropping the little vial into his coat pocket. It definitely looks like bile, but… more gluey. Viscous. And bile doesn’t have much of a smell. But Will feels certain it’s related. He’s not usually so squeamish about possible bodily fluids, but this one just feels so wrong.

“We need to stake this place out,” Nico is saying. sounding much more certain than Will feels. His eyes flick to Will’s, maybe reading hesitation there. “You don’t think so?”

“No, I do…” Will says, gazing somewhat longingly toward the hole they climbed through, the path back to the upper world. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to spin it so Luke agrees.”

Nico’s brow furrows. “Since when do you care about Luke’s agreement?”

Will sighs. His stomach twists again, the memory of Luke’s threats just a few hours ago. If this was any other case, he’d be more than willing to follow Nico’s lead. But he’s more and more worried about Nico leading himself right out of a job. “Look, this is bizarre, and definitely suspicious. But you know how Luke is. He’s going to want something more solid to go on before he’s willing to admit you’re right.”

Nico doesn’t answer, turned away to examine the nest. Will tries again.

“Maybe we can run some forensics first. Or present it to Annabeth,” Will says, thinking aloud. “She’ll be reasonable.” His head is still pounding and the smell is really getting to him.

“This is reasonable,” Nico says, voice rising. “Look around you. You’ve got an oozing paper mache bile nest, a secret hibernation hideout at the suspect’s last known address. How much more reasonable do we need to be?”

Will blinks, a little caught off-guard by the intensity of his partner’s reaction. Nico seems to read it on his face.

“Sorry.” Nico shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to direct that at you. I’m just – it’s frustrating. This whole case just takes me right back to when I was working at Violent Crimes – I felt like I was never being taken seriously. Like I was some kind of joke.”

Will nods in understanding. “There are more than a few dickheads in that department. Clawing their way to whatever they think the top is.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, deflating a bit. “You’re right, though. We can try to get along before we try anything else. Let’s get some forensic evidence and see how that pans out before we investigate this site any further.”

Will nods.

“Hey, look at this,” Nico says suddenly, crouching and angling his flashlight downwards. Will peers over Nico’s shoulder.

There’s the glint of metal, and when Will looks closer, he sees a row of small objects lined up against the wall beside the nest. The horrible green substance has trickled out across the floor here, seeping into cracks, a gooey line partially obscuring most of the objects.

“They’re trophies,” Nico says, horrified.

“Fuck,” Will breaths out. “Are you sure?”

Nico glances up. “Yeah, I’d be willing to bet. We should take note of what’s here and compare it with the case files back at the office.”

“Should we just take them as evidence?”

Nico hesitates. “No. I don’t think we want him to know we’ve been here, if we can help it.” With a gloved fingertip, Nico gently prods at one of the objects; a tie clip, maybe, or a barrette. It doesn’t budge, glued to the floor with the greenish-brown goo. “We won’t even be able to move most of these without it being obvious that we’ve disturbed them,” he mutters. Then – “look at this one, on the very end.”

Will squints. The trinket is larger than most of the others, a shiny gold disc. It’s cleaner than the other items, too, like perhaps it was only placed there recently. “A pocket watch?”

“Pretty sure the most recent victim was missing a pocket watch,” Nico says. He nudges it. It’s the only object that seems to be completely free of gunk. “We should be able to get prints off it, too.” He fishes around in his jacket pockets, pulling out a notepad and paper. “Fuck, I forgot my camera.”

“Oh – I brought the new one,” Will says, reaching into his own coat pocket.

“Amazing.” Nico accepts the camera, snapping a few pictures before handing the notepad to Will. “Here. Can you take dictation? Your handwriting is better than mine.” He gives Will a sympathetic look. “And then you can move a little further away from the stench. You’re looking green.”

::

When Will arrives the next morning, he’s anxious and underslept, his head still lightly throbbing. He’d had the same dream over and over last night, each time he managed to drift off; vague visions of a man appearing in his bedroom, watching him in the dark. It had spooked him so badly he’d had to sleep with the light on.

He gives Nico a vague wave and a half-smile when he enters the office, hanging his coat and crossing to drop heavily into his chair.

“Everything okay?” comes Nico’s voice.

Will turns, making a valiant attempt to look more alive than he feels. “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.” He yawns hugely.

Nico hums in sympathy. “Coffee’s on,” he says, nodding at the little five-cupper on the counter, just gurgling out the last few drops to fill the pot.

“Yay,” Will says, rising instantly and making a beeline for the pot. “You want some too?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Hey, what do you think about this?” Nico asks when Will brings his coffee over, setting it carefully in the few square inches of available real estate on the desk.

Nico taps a file. “This is one of the victims from 1939. There’s a pretty thorough description of what the victim was wearing when she went missing. No photos, unfortunately, but it mentions a bracelet – gold with two small rubies.”

Will nods, remembering Nico’s dictation yesterday. “Yeah, that sounds like it matches up. I remember a gold bracelet. Can I see the camera?”

Will scans through the pictures Nico took at Exeter yesterday, finally finding the bracelet. “Too bad the light wasn’t better,” he muses. “But this could definitely be the one.” He turns the camera to show Nico, who nods, serious.

“Hey,” Will says, flipping through the photos more slowly now. “Nolan Campbell – the victim whose mother I was talking to – she said Nolan was wearing his dad’s class ring when he went missing. There were a couple of rings, weren’t there?” Will clicks back and forth between several poorly-exposed photos. “Do you think this could be a class ring?” he asks Nico, turning the camera again.

Nico squints at it, then takes the camera from Will, turning it slightly. “Yeah, that could be it. It was kind of half-buried in a crevice, remember? It definitely had that kind of signet shape.” Nico continues to poke at buttons, trying to zoom in, grimacing at the little screen.

“God, I’d love to get that ring back to his mom,” Will says, his voice going rough.

Nico looks up, a sympathetic twist to his mouth. Will shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to get back into that right now. “Did you find any other matches?” he asks.

“Yeah, one more.” Nico sets the camera down, reaching for another file. “There was a silver ring – one of the 1909 victims. No further description – so that could match. And then I was thinking about the article you found, about the animal attack –”

“Yeah, me too,” Will agrees. “Field trip to the library?”

Nico beams.

::

(here is part 2 of chapter 6!)

[star-going-supernova]

I have a security breach story idea for you if you don’t mind?

I think you should do a cute hurt/comfort moment where Freddy has his version of a nightmare. Maybe a complication of all the moments he almost lost Gregory keeps playing and he gets more and more worried as he can’t stop it.

Anyways it leads to a cute sappy moment where Freddy is holding Gregory and is so relieved as he just cuddles him while Gregory is confused but is enjoying the affection.

This is tumblr generated prompt number 27! With a sprinkling of prompt number 58, which wasn’t actually one of the submitted numbers, but I thought they went well together, so it’s a freebie. 

Nightmares vs Friendship Bracelets

The worst part was not reliving the memories. It was not the nightmarish recordings played one after another—Gregory’s yell of pain, the vivid red of Gregory’s blood, the sight of Gregory running from his friends, their fangs bared and their claws outstretched. The wretched knowledge that there was another threat stalking the pizzaplex’s halls, armed with an already blood-stained blade, that Freddy could not see. 

It was not seeing it all again, feeling trapped in his own head from start to finish. 

No. The worst part was waking up and believing, with chilling certainty, that he had remembered the ending wrong. 

Caught up in the dread from That Night, Freddy’s system’s short-circuited. Warnings flashed in his HUD. Had he possessed lungs, they would have been nonfunctional. His endoskeleton spasmed, nearly cutting off power to his legs. 

It was a long few minutes before his mind finally shook off the digital cobwebs and brought up the memory of dawn. The barricades lifting from over the doors, weak rays of sunlight playing over the floor where he and Gregory had stood. Banged up and bloody, dented and bruised, yes. 

But also alive. Alive and well. 

Freddy slumped, barely catching himself on the wall before he could collapse. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to better see in the darkened hallway behind his dressing room. The open recharge station hummed behind him. 

He internally checked the time. It was not yet 11:00 p.m.; Gregory would not be arriving for the night until 11:30, when the building was guaranteed to be empty of its human staff. 

Pushing himself upright, Freddy left the hallway. He did not think he would be able to “sleep” any more that night. Not without seeing Gregory for himself. 

• • •

Other than a surprised gasp, Gregory offered no protest when Freddy scooped him up the moment he’d set foot in the building. He hugged back, matching Freddy in enthusiasm if not desperation. 

Reassured at the strong heartbeat in the boy’s chest, Freddy loosened his grip so he was holding Gregory more comfortably. 

“My apologies for ambushing you,” Freddy said sheepishly. “I…” 

Gregory shrugged, unbothered. “Sometimes you just need a hug to feel better.” 

“And it was reassuring,” Freddy agreed, and then explained, “I may not be human, superstar, but even my mind can play cruel tricks on me while I recharge.” 

Understanding crossed Gregory’s face. “Been there, done that,” he said. “I get it.” 

Freddy knew he did, for Gregory had come to him more than once, whispering of nightmares about Freddy being torn apart or decommissioned, or worse, not remembering who Gregory was. 

“Do you think my post-nightmare, uh, protocol would work for you too?” Gregory continued. “Or do you want to try something different?” 

Thinking about their standard routine after one of Gregory’s bad dreams, Freddy set off for the kitchen. “I think it is worth trying out for myself.” 

To be truthful, he had no doubt it would prove effective. There was lots of hugging and cuddling involved, and never mind that he was a robot and an “adult.” There was something about physical affection that transcended species, age, and the materials one’s body was made of. 

They stopped in the kitchen for hot chocolate—mostly for Gregory, though the band had all been designed to be capable of eating, even if it did not do much for them. And the sharing of a comfort drink was half the fun. Mugs in hand, they tracked down the best beanbags in the pizzaplex to make a nest that was large even to someone Freddy’s size. 

He flopped down—it was not as fluid as Gregory’s flopping, but Gregory always gave him points for effort—and Gregory immediately curled up against him and half on top of him. 

Usually, Gregory chose whether he wanted to watch a movie or have Freddy read a book or provide some other form of distraction. Since it was Freddy’s nightmare, he figured it was his turn to decide, and Gregory’s expectant silence proved him right. He tapped into the near endless library of music that Chica had downloaded onto their server and started up one of the playlists she’d put together. It was called Relaxing Vibes, and it was mostly full of instrumental music and songs that had a calm, slow tune to them. It played from his internal speakers so Gregory could listen as well. 

“Nice,” Gregory said. He took a sip of his hot chocolate, gaining a mustache, and chewed on the marshmallows he’d managed to catch. He was a warm, reassuring weight against Freddy’s side. 

Very nice indeed, Freddy thought. The last lingering threads of worry and panic dissolved under the incontrovertible proof that Gregory had not died during That Night. 

• • •

His mind did not seem to get the memo, however. Over the next two weeks, Freddy prematurely jolted out of recharge no less than six times, and in each instance, he was utterly unable to make sense of the separation between reality and his nightmares. He could not reliably remember that Gregory was fine. 

Gregory, naturally, was aware of this because of the post-nightmare protocol alone. No doubt Freddy’s increasingly frazzled state of existence was not doing himself any favors, and he had long since stopped claiming he was fine when it was visibly obvious that he was not. 

Just as Freddy was ready to resign himself to being checked over by his technicians, which he truly wished to avoid if possible, Gregory came up with a simple but effective solution. 

“A friendship bracelet,” Freddy repeated, carefully accepting it from Gregory. The bracelet was made of braided cords, in electric blue, black, and red. A chunky plastic buckle held it together, and he was touched to note that it was made with consideration to his size. Not only was in long enough, but it was wider than would look natural on a human’s wrist. 

“The only oranges they had weren’t quite right, so the red seemed like a safer bet,” Gregory explained, rocking up on his toes, then back on his heels. He lifted his arm, showing off a smaller version on his own wrist. “See? We match!” 

“This will help with my nightmares?” Freddy asked curiously. 

“I don’t know about the actual nightmares,” Gregory admitted. “But when you wake up and you can’t remember if I’m alive or not, you can just look down at your wrist. When you see the bracelet, you’ll know that I survived That Night because I could only have given it to you after.” 

It was exactly the sort of logic that Freddy found comforting. 

Gregory put it on him. The bracelet fit rather perfectly into the shallow hollow of his casing at his wrist, out of the way of the joint but where no one could see it by accident. Even then, at a glance, it would only appear to be wiring. 

“Thank you, superstar,” Freddy said, feeling uncommonly emotional about such a simple item. “Even if it does not help, I will treasure this forever.” 

“I bet you say that to all the kids who give you friendship bracelets,” Gregory teased. 

“I do not,” Freddy said earnestly. “I have never been given a friendship bracelet before by anyone.” 

Gregory’s eyebrows shot up, but he was quick to exchange his surprise for a grin. “I guess that means you’ve never even made friendship bracelets before.” 

“You made this?” Freddy said, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift all over again. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Gregory nodded. “I mean, yeah, that’s usually how friendship bracelets work.” 

Freddy admired his new accessory again. “You are very talented, superstar.” 

“There are kits and stuff,” Gregory told him, as if that would change Freddy’s mind. “I’ll bring some over, and we can make a bunch of friendship bracelets together. If—if you want.” 

“I would love to,” Freddy said. “It would be my honor to gift you a friendship bracelet that I had made myself.” He did not have much in the way of material possessions, and especially not possessions that would work as a meaningful present. The prospect of that changing was exciting. 

Gregory laughed. “You don’t have to make it such a big deal,” he said this without any real conviction, and Freddy was satisfied with knowing that Gregory did not truly believe it, “but yeah. It’ll be fun. And I’ll be happy to wear whatever you make.” 

• • •

It was the very next evening that Freddy lurched out of his recharge cycle with a feeling comparable to a human’s racing heart. His mind, yet again, failed to come up with convincing evidence that all was well with Gregory. 

Until he looked down at the foreign—though not obtrusive—feeling on his wrist. His eyes zeroed in on a braided cord of blue, black, and red. The friendship bracelet. From Gregory. 

The memory of Gregory carefully buckling it around his wrist flooded into his thoughts, chasing out the hazy what-ifs of Gregory going still and quiet and cold. His systems stabilized in record time as he delicately touched the bracelet with one fingertip. 

Gregory was fine. He was alive, and happy, and safe. And he was going to arrive in only a little over an hour. 

Freddy returned without fear to his recharge station. He wanted to be fully rested and refreshed for his lesson on making friendship bracelets. 

[appleblocks]

Fresh Life - Prologue

[This is Part 0 of my fic, as I am considering Part 1 to be chapter 1. Here's some things to keep in mind before moving down:]

The oldest character is 23 and the youngest is 19.

" " is used for verbal communication, [ ] is used for sign language, and { } will be used for telepathy and thoughts.

I am having to start posting this on tumblr cause I don't have an ao3 account yet :( and these posts will be very long, so I'm sorry.

If you don't want to see these long posts on your timeline feel free to block the #Fresh Life - fic tag bellow

[The children of some of the first Lifers set out on the trial to survive on their own, developing alliances and establishing that not everyone can be trusted.]

Time and time again the Watchers of this world put their favorite creatures to the test in a trial of survival and wits, with the goal of choosing their personal champions by the end. For years this had been a tradition, and now, decades after the first winner rose to the top, a new trial was called upon. Except this time, a much different group was to be tested.

The morning sun shined as it rose over Stratos, bouncing off its gold details and framing the many temples within it. That same light creeping in through the curtains of one demi-god’s room, waking him up slowly. Hermes yawned and covered his eyes from the sun coming in, but as soon as his mind fully woke he sprung out of bed with great excitement. - “It’s today!!” - He exclaimed, flying and jumping around his room to gather his things and get ready for the day. - “It’s today, it’s today, it’s toda- JEREMY!!” A thud from the next room over, followed by a groan and wet footsteps in the hall before Hermes’s room door opened, his very sleepy and somewhat startled sibling standing there mid transformation. - ”Whaaattt?..” - They asked groggily, leaning on the doorframe. - “Today’s the day! We’re going off on the adventure of a lifetime!!” - Hermes replied still with great enthusiasm, and maybe a bit too loudly, flying over to Jeremy Jr., hugging them and spinning them around in the air.  Jeremy startled again at being picked up and spun around, but they hugged back nonetheless. - “Okay, okay! Put me down now, I just woke up!” - They asked with a tired laugh, and the two landed quickly after. - “Right! Sorry!” - Hermes apologized, making sure Jeremy was stable on their feet.  - “Well, look who’s awake.” - Another voice spoke up, and Joel stood outside the door in his God form, smiling softly at the two. - “I thought I’d have to drag you two out of bed today.”

Across the mountains and into the badlands the sun shined as it rose above the sheriff’s ranch in Tumble Town, waking up the farm animals and signaling a new day. A rooster’s call rang out as the young voidwalker made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen to make breakfast, but was instead greeted with breakfast already on the table and his father still cooking more. Tango looked up from the table, very much half asleep. - “G’morning, Tom.” - He greeted with a warm smile, resting his chin on his hand. Jimmy quickly turned to look at Tom, smiling brightly and immediately setting what he was cooking aside. - “There he is! My boy!” - He exclaimed and approached Tom, pulling him into a big warm hug. Tom hugged back, just as tightly as his father. - [Good morning.] - Tom signed after the hug. - [You are awake early.] - “Well of course! Today’s a very very special day, I gotta make sure you’re doing well before we go see everybody.” - Jimmy replied, ushering Tom over to the table. - “Now sit, sit! You’ve gotta eat to start the day off right!” Tom smiled softly and took a seat as ordered, digging into his breakfast pancakes and enjoying the warm morning and his dads company while he could.

The morning sun could not reach this next location, but the purple rift provided enough light on its own. Watcher magic filled the air here, but it was still bearable enough to be around. After all these years the rift had lost power as most worlds were united and no longer needed it for travel, and so the area behind it had been hollowed out and carved into a large series of chambers that held great treasures and monuments; Statues of entities passed, paintings of deities and patron saints, simplified depictions of the Watchers. All things of that nature were kept here for everyone to look back upon whenever needed. - “Dad, how long until the others get here?” - The older bot asked, bored of sitting there and staring at the cavernous ceiling. - “I reckon they will show up soon. We did tell everyone to arrive before noon.” - Mumbo replied as he examined the circuitry on the younger bot’s arm, taking a moment to look at his wristwatch. - “Yep. Should be here any moment now. It shouldn’t take too much longer.” - He assured, finishing up the repairs to Jrumbot’s arm. - “There, good as new.” - “Thanks dad!” - Jrumbot smiled and pulled his sleeve back down, moving his arm around to make sure it was all good.

And right on time, as the rest of the group attending stepped past the rift; Joel and Sausage accompanying Hermes and Jeremy, and Jimmy and Tango accompanying Tom. Mumbo looked back at them and gave them all a wave and a smile, standing up and going to catch up with the other parents while the youngsters grouped together now. - “Good morning!” - Hermes greeted with a big bright smile, carrying his bag with him. - “Was about time y'all showed up. Was starting to think you all got too scared to come.” - Grumbot taunted lightheartedly, standing up from the stone bench he’d been sitting at. - “Pff- As if. Hermes woke me up so excited that I fell out of my tank.” - Jeremy pointed at their brother, chuckling. - “I wasn’t missing this even if I wanted to.” - [You alright?] - Tom signed, looking down at Jeremy Jr. with some concern. It takes Jr. a moment to remember what the sign means, but they quickly nod and try to reassure. - “Oh, yes yes, I’m fine! It wasn’t too big of a fall.” - [Good.] - Tom signed again before turning and stepping over to Hermes, opening his arms to him, and immediately Hermes set his bag down and pulled Tom into a big tight hug, both very happy to see each other.

- “So where’s Grian?” - Joel asked, looking to Mumbo. - “He should be coming out soon. He was conversing with the Secret Keeper last time I saw him, I hope the conversation is going well.” - Mumbo replied, dusting some redstone off his hands and rolling his sleeves back down. - “Oh, this is so exciting! Our babies are going to become men! Are your sons as excited as ours? Are you also excited?” - Sausage asked, looking between Jimmy, Tango, and Mumbo. Jimmy grimaced slightly at the questions, his earlier enthusiasm was starting to turn into nervousness. - “You could say so. Tango and I got ourselves up early to make sure Tom ate well before comin’ here. But not gonna lie, I’m starting to feel not so sure about this.” Sausage tilted his head in slight confusion. - “What do you mean?” - “Oh come on Jimmy, don’t start scaring Sausage with that.” - Joel remarked, crossing his arms and glancing away. - “They’ll be fine. We’ve done this millions of times, they can do it too.” Jimmy frowned but decided not to refute it, and deep down, Joel was worrying a lot too, but preferred to avoid the topic altogether. Sausage looked at the two of them with some concern and definite confusion, and Tango quietly put an arm around Jimmy to help keep him calm.

“Ah, I see everyone’s finally gathered here!” - Grian called, stepping through the large stone doors at the other end of the room. - “Come on then, let’s get this show on the road.” Everyone made their way towards the next chamber through those same stone doors, and the Watcher magic was much more palpable here. At the center of the room was the familiar Secret Keeper, a large stone statue used to communicate with the Watchers themselves. Around it, covering the walls of the chamber, were paintings. Paintings of the previous winners, each with their associated astral body, and space for many more. The spot for a new painting had opened, and it beckoned for fresh meat.  The young ones stepped forward, as prepared as they could be to embark on the journey ahead. 

- “Alright, here are the rules.” - Grian started, his wings turning from the colorful trio of colors into a dark and deep purple, rings of eyes floating around his head now. - “Your goal will be to survive, but you already knew that. You will have 3 lives before your chances run out, and in your last life your goal is to be the last one standing. Whoever wins will be added to our hall here, and have a fancy portrait of them in that there wall.” - He added, pointing at the blank portrait rippling with magic. - “Now.. Are you ready?” - “Wait!” - Jimmy called from the back, making everyone stop and turn to look at him. He quickly ran over to Tom, signaling for him to lean closer, and retrieved a gift from his inventory: a black rancher hat, which he promptly placed on Tom’s head. - “Good luck, son. We’ll be here when you return.” - He said with much care and worry, pulling Tom into one last tight, tight hug before he had to go. Tom hugged back even tighter, but soon they had to separate, and Jimmy returned to Tango’s side. Tom smiled at the two and readjusted his new hat to make sure it wouldn’t fall, and turned back to Grian so the event could continue. Grian raised an eyebrow and looked at the others in the back. - “Anybody else got anything to say before I send them?” Jeremy Jr. quickly turned to their dads, even if the question wasn’t directed at themself. - “Don’t make us any more siblings while we’re gone!” - “No promises!” - Sausage replied with a hearty laugh, and Joel just put a hand to his head with a light awkward chuckle. - “Be careful if you go into the Nether, don’t let yourselves overheat!” - Mumbo called to the Bot brothers, a bit nervous for their circuits. - “We won’t!” - The two bots replied, giving their dad a reassuring smile, and turned to their other dad. - “Alright, now that that’s all settled, it is time.” - The magical feeling ramped up as Grian said this, the eyes above his head opening and glowing purple, along with the symbol on the Secret Keeper behind him. - “I’ll be watching you all. Good luck.”

And with a flash the young group was gone, taken to a new world where they were to start their trial. The only thing left behind was the bag Hermes had brought; somebody must’ve forgotten to tell him he couldn’t bring those things with him.

[tmwcs]

Mermaids Tale - Chapter 1

Alright here we go. First chapter of Mermaids Tale, I think i already mentioned but this story deserves a better title, but we'll stick with it for the sake of ceasing any confusion.

As mentioned in my latest post, I'm adjusting the ML to post the whole storyline of MT, I must...its really quite good and when you read the buildup and the history of the characters, its good. For those of you that want just the good stuff, i'll post ONE chapter of the first smut encounter, just one. This story has alot of smut, among other genres. So there will the best of both worlds here.

Pairings: Heeseung and you

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Mentions of nudity but that's about it.

Summary: Noooooooooooooo....just know, that MT Heeseung is really...sexy. This storyline contains a cat and mouse chase type of thing going on. Lots of hunter and fleeing prey vibes.

Side note, i think they finally fixed my tumblr because posting is alot less of a pain. Seriously, the chapters i've posted so far for each series, some of the grammar errors and structure errors are bc this thing would not let me copy and paste, i had to like re-write each paragraph into the box as i was looking at the draft. So there may have been alot of typos and stupid mistakes in those, apologies.

The sound of the busy city buzzes in your ears as you monopolize through the crowds.

Passing by a line of shops and rows of canopy tents of casual eatery, you keep a hollow face as you remain hidden beneath the bill of your hat. You strut through, strategically making way towards the path of a shorter route leading to your home.

Your hair lays bundled up under your headpiece, eyes remain forward under the hovering cloth, and your body’s form, out of sight and beneath a large sweatshirt. The lengthy shape of your legs made out by the fitted jeans that cover them, and the slight exposure of soft skin on your forearms, revealed by slightly rolled sleeves, remain as your sole identifiable features that are seen.

Carrying out your habitual trend of hiding beneath cloth, and shadow when traveling hasn’t been the most pleasant routine.

However, throughout the course of events in earlier years, you’ve learned and been warned of, the dangers against you. For each time you leave shelter, you place yourself at risk of exposing yourself and suffering the unimaginable, putting an end to your bloodline.

The fate of your bloodline, as mentioned, solely relies on you. Carrying the task of preserving it comes with dire responsibilities and measures, something that you have been doing for many years, yet still haven’t grown entirely used to.

You turn around a corner leading into a marketplace alley. It’s a shortcut you normally take to get back home, saving you a half hour from walking among crowds, which never made you feel easy. Not after you learned of your secret.

The moment you projected the turn, the owner of one of the food tents accidently bumps into you, as he was making his way to customers bringing them hot jasmine tea.

His body was forced back from the impact, as was yours. The ceramic dishes that were neatly staged on the platter fall and shatter on the stone tile. The young man peeks up through recovered squinted eyes and sees that the contents of the teapot had sullied your entire sleeve.

Noticing the color of the material becoming darker from the splash, his face grew into great concern when he saw the skin on your arm glisten at the reflection of a nearby streetlight.

The vapors emerging from your arm are noticeable, as well as the blotches of the bright red shade that takes over the natural hue of your pigment, and the stunning glow you were born with.

He begins apologizing theatrically and calls out to the neighboring canopy owners.

A group of elderly shop owners come to attend to the wound on your arm, suppressing the discoloration with wet cloths and ice. One woman runs back inside her boutique to find a first aid kit, while the others remain in a frenzy as they place effort into treating the burn.

But there was no burn, at least in a somatosensory manner, not visually.

You reassure them that you’re fine, despite their urging in taking you to a hospital. You softly shake your head and thanked them for their care, you further your efforts in convincing them by smiling and waving, appearing as jovial as possible while you continue your way through the alley.

As a child, you didn’t realize that your inability to feel physical touch, vibration, or any sensation for that matter, was really something to be concerned of. Truth be told, you still don’t. In fact, you prefer it that way. Regardless of countless moments where teachers, friends, and family all grew concern over your “defect”, you personally found it convenient.

You would be lying to yourself if you deny ever being curious on what it is like, to feel temperature, roughness, pressure, tickle, itch, pain, pleasure, cloth, skin, and tingle. But you realize that whatever it was that you were missing, you couldn’t possibly be yearning for it if you’ve never experienced it. As depressing that may sound, your “defect” saved yourself the emotional traumas of pain and sadness, which is something you had no problems feeling.

It started when you were six, after your dog Lucy had passed away. You were sad because you missed her greeting you, the way she kept you company and played outside, and the sound of her adorable whines whenever she wanted a doggy treat. You developed a bond with her out of pure emotion because the times that she licked your face, when you pet and rubbed her ears or her belly, or when you held her in your arms, it wasn’t possible to develop any fondness out of the physical compassions of love for her. You never felt it.  Which somehow, you believe, may have placed limitations on the strength of your bond with her. Since everything you felt was out of pure emotion, the number of traits that would cause your grief was limited, therefore you were able to accept her loss much faster.

There were other times too, like the moments where your friends would experience a broken heart or betrayal at the discretion of a loved one. Events such as this is what made you the most grateful. After witnessing the times when a dear friend would come to you for comfort, shattered by the hands of a man who used and abandoned her, you came to understand that the degree of her sadness and heartbreak was enhanced due to her physical relation with that man. Thankfully for you, you could only imagine, not that you would.

You found it very disturbing that regardless of how many times your friend had experienced the ruthless abandonment of her lover, all conducted after a session of sexual intimacy. No matter how many times he left her, she would always welcome him back with open arms, enabling him to do it all over again. Whenever you had asked her why she would even permit herself to let him in again, her response was the sealant of any curious thought you had in the sense of touch.

“I know he’s going to leave, and I wasn’t going to. But then he kissed and hugged me, and I just couldn’t help it, I needed to feel him again. Have you ever gone without sex for weeks Y/N? Its brutal! I got desperate.”

Her words drifted through your brain. What would she have said if you had divulged the fact that, regardless of you being 109 years old, you never had sex. You heard from friends you made along the way of their experiences, and quite frankly, it never appealed to you. It may just be one of those moments where the coined term “you had to have been there” applies heavily to it, which of course, wouldn’t matter for you. The loss of the sense wasn’t just limited to your skin, it was internal as well. You recall the time when you nearly had a close call in exposing your secret.

It was while you were with a group of co-workers, the lot of you all deciding to have lunch at a sushi bar. A moment of carelessness resulted in everyone being confused when the waiter brought out the tea and poured it into each of your cups. You were the first to drink, and upon noticing you sipping from your cup, a fellow co-worker across follows suit and takes a sip.

The sound of the cutlery clashing, the blood curling scream, and smaller dishes shattering on the floor, overfilled the entire restaurant as she jumped up and covered her mouth. The tears streamed down her face as she shouts for ice and water, the remaining group stood off to the side with puzzling looks.

“Too hot! My mouth is burning!”

She panicked as her mouth begin to blister and her lips turned red.

“Why didn’t you let it cool down?”

“I thought it was already cooled down! I saw Y/N drink from her cup, so I thought it was okay!”

The poor girl exhausting her sobbing words as she popped ice cubes in her mouth, desperately trying to relieve herself from the burn.

The group looked your way, they also noticed your lips were bright red, and now that you think about it, you may have had blisters in your mouth as well, but how were you to know?

You played off that whole experience by telling them that you had a damaged nerve syndrome. That’s been your go-to excuse for as long as you could remember, there was no other way other logic that you could use for moments like that one.

You finally make it to your apartment.

Looking down at your arm, you noticed the redness was beginning to swell a bit, ironic that you couldn’t feel the pain from injuries such as this, yet you were susceptible to the damage it would cause. Everything has its ups and downs you suppose.

Migrating to your bedroom, you glanced over to the all the vintage photos of your mother, father, and your siblings.

Managing life by changing your name every decade, relocating, and cutting off ties with friendly relations after a certain amount of time had passed, it wasn’t easy for you to succumb to emotional moments of loneliness. Your life was always moving, nothing was constant or stable, at least not for too long. The only time when you would feel saddened was whenever you looked at the photos of your family, who have all been passed away for years already. The remaining relatives you had from your brother and his wife, your cousins, nieces, and nephews fully remain unaware of your existence, there was no way you could explain that, while they were significantly younger, your appearance had remained unchanged since the year you turned 22. The moment you blossomed into a young woman, no longer having the pre-mature attributes of a girl, you were at your true feminine form and had remained as such. Just like your mother.

A flashback drives past your mind for a moment, you remembered it so vividly.

“Y/n, do you want to join us? We’re doing game night.”

Your younger brother implores you to join, and normally you would, but tonight was different.

“No thanks Matthew, I want to go out for a night walk on the beach. Tell mom and dad I’ll be back after a bit.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with? I don’t think mom likes it when you go out by yourself, remember? She said that a 15-year-old girl should never be out on her own in an unfamiliar place.”

“I’ll be fine, this is private property, and the beach is just right across from the house. I’ll be back in an hour.”

At that, you left the old beach rental your family reserved for the trip to Greece. It was your first time there and it became your favorite place in the world. There was something about the land and the Aegean Sea that surrounded it. It gave you a feeling of familiarity, the same sense someone would get when they go home for the first time in many years. It was nostalgic. Yet, that wasn’t the only thing that made you feel sentimental.

You didn’t know why, but up until that year you pondered the puzzling fact that, while your defect inhibited you to feel physically, there was something about the ocean that contradicted that.

You had found out about it initially when you were 7-years old, your family took a trip to a beach nearby home. The hot sand was too much for your family, and they knew it wouldn’t affect you since the family doctor was the one that initially told your parents of your “nerve damage”.

Despite hearing their calls to you, bidding you to stay put with them, you ignored their yells and ran to the shallow waters. It was the first time you had ever seen the ocean, and you were attracted to its appeal the way magnets attract iron.

With your feet stepping into the water, you were shocked to realize that there was something transpiring. There was a sensation that you’ve never experienced before, and you didn’t know what to call it. Looking back, you know now that it was the temperature of the water. Yes, the temperature. Not only that, but the swirling whirlpool swishing around your ankles, the wet sand riding in between your toes, the jagged tips and points of rocks and seashells, and the feel of the gravitational pull as the water receded, only to return at your feet once more when another rolling wave had hit.

For the first time, you had felt the powerful sense of touch.

You never mentioned the experience to your family, there wasn’t any particular reason, you just felt content that you were able to experience the sensation for once. But you quickly realized that your ability to feel only occurred when you were in the water. The ocean waters.

You exit through the back kitchen door, skipping towards the shallow waves. The rental was just far enough from the water, a single person such as yourself walking amongst the wet sands couldn’t be seen easily at night. But you weren’t concerned at all, there was absolutely no one in sight and that’s how you preferred it, because now you’ll be able to freely express your joy once you reach the shallow waves.  

The moment the water rushed over your skin; you rediscover the sense of touch once more.

Of all things in this earth for you to feel, you were eternally grateful that it was the ocean. You felt as equally grateful as you breached the waters belonging to the beautiful Aegean Sea. It was the first time you get to experience water that was foreign, exotic, and mystical, much different than the local beaches back home.  

Before placing our feet in, you took a second to watch the bubbles of the sea foam riding the waves. It was so pretty to look at. The foam resembled white clouds as the bubbles looked like crystals, reflecting twinkles of glistening light reflected by the moon. Assorted pastel color prisms coated each bubble as you watched them roll back into the sea for the next wave.  

You walk along the shallow end, kicking your feet to create small splashes as you twirl in your summer dress. Apart from the sense of touch, nothing ever changed your experience in the water, up until a feeling hit you. It was a sensation you didn’t recall feeling in the water before, but it stung with a vengeance. You couldn’t put your finger on what was happening, but you knew based off your recollections of witnessing similar reactions with other people, the sensation you felt was the first in your life.

Pain.

The overwhelming reaction of having to feel pain for the first time caused you to collapse, the stinging sensation grew worse. You panicked. Unable to fathom what was going on, your mind tried to process at the sensation you were succumbing to. Drowning with confusion and fear, you realized that, unlike the waters back home, there was something about the waters belonging to the Aegean Sea, and your body was reacting to it.

Fear and shock took over your emotional senses, covering the unpleasant sense of physical pain as legs grew weak, too weak.

The stinging hit every inch of your legs from the hip down, and for a moment you wondered if you had been stung by jellyfish or perhaps bitten by a poisonous sea snake.

To your horror, you screamed as you looked down at your legs, finding that you no longer had them. Not anymore.

Instead, they were replaced with a long, graceful tail and fin. You shuttered in fear, noting that the lower half of your body was now covered with fish scales.

You couldn’t move from the sandy spot you were laying in. Your panic heightened as you attempt to use your upper body strength to crawl away from the water, but the pull of the waves as the tides rolled in enabled the receding sand to sink you down, practically gluing you stuck and your lower half remaining in the water.

As the currents grew stronger, and no one in sight to hear or see you, your body was slowly but surely getting pulled in deeper into the water.

Each wave dragged you in deeper, your whole body was nearly entrenched in the shallow water, yet it was becoming easier to move, so long as you were going in the direction of the deep end. You felt exhausted from fighting against the waves, so you laid there in defeat. Your wet hair was plastered all over your face, the transformation of your lower extremities caused the ruffle lining of your dress to shred.

Noticing that the stinging pain was no longer present, you closed your eyes and found comfort in feeling the soothing sensation of the water showering your entire body. The feeling that you normally enjoyed.

You closed your eyes and laid your cheek down on the wet sand before you, not sure if you just needed a break or if you had entirely given up and assumed you were going to die in that spot. Within seconds after closing your eyes, another wave rolls in, covering you entirely. As it pulls back, revealing every shell and rock that laid thickly underneath the sand, the raging current drags you one final time, fully submerging you in the water.

The feeling, opposed to what you felt moments earlier, was beyond amazing. Even though the temperature of the water was cooler, you felt warm and secured. The swooshing of the current wraps around you and glides against your skin.

Your whole body felt the touch of everything around you. The pale silver scales glowed contrasted against the shadowed depth around you. Considering how dark it was underneath the surface, your view was as clear as glass. Everything you laid your eyes on, you were able to see its finer details, no matter how small or large it was.

You could hear the echo calling of whales, even though they were meters from where you were at. It appeared that not only did you gain the sense of touch by being in the water, but your other senses remain unimpaired. They actually seemed enhanced under water.

As tempted as it was to savor the environment you were in, you started to get worried that your mother would come look for you, especially since your time outside was breaching the final moments of the hour. Though you weren’t entirely sure how you would go see her in the state you were in.

You swam back to the shoreline, although it didn’t feel like swimming, more like gliding. You found it was so easy to move in the water, and you were moving in a speed that you’ve never was faster than any moving car you rode in.

Beaching yourself as you reached the shoreline, you turn to admire the pale-silver color of your tail.

The fin was large and fanned out, the skin that stretched over the frame was semi-transparent, and it glistened with a sheer blend of pastel colors, the same as the seafoam. Two spurs outlined the out corners of the fin as it branched out, they were long, and the tips of them were sharper than any knife you’ve seen.

The scales on your tale all looked like nacre, or simply known as Mother-of-Pearl, reflecting the wide hue of colors to bounce off the silver base. The amount of scales lessened just past your pelvic bone, revealing the skin you were familiar with. Had there been more time you would have removed your dress to see how much had changed with your upper body if it did change. Yet you became more focused on figuring a way to get out of the water, then coming up with an explanation for your appearance.

Moving was hard, compared to how it was in the water, now that you had laid ashore it felt nearly impossible. Finding yourself stuck yet again, the only manner to get farther away from the water was to crawl using your upper body. Digging your elbows into the murky sand, you struggled to find some level of stable foundation as you felt yourself sinking in.

Noticing the partial burial of large rocks all around, you reached for the exposed surfaces, grabbing on to the points and edges. Using the moment of your body to shift in the direction you needed to go, you exhausted every effort by using whatever means necessary to get further up, closer to your destination. The sense of touch begins to fade out, disappearing the further you move away from the water. A bittersweet exchange.

Finally, you reached the dry mounds of sand. Grabbing a handful, you watch as the spilling of dry granules seeps in between your fingers, feeling a sense of accomplishment. You moved upward just a tad bit more, ensuring no part of you, to include the tail, was touching water.

You come to a sudden halt as a familiar sensation hits you. Odd, since you were no longer touching the water, yet the stinging all throughout your lower half re-emerges, and you could feel it just as strongly as you had in the water. You turned over onto your back and saw all the dry granules of sand that coated the scales of your tail. Witnessing the metamorphosis happening before your own eyes, you watched as the beige hue of the sand and the rainbow explosion of color from the scales begin to transform. The merging of colors gradually fades into a hue that matches your skin, while the two long spurs at the corners of your fin begin to recede.

Beginning at the inner triangular tip in the center of your fin, the skin separates, and continues up along the center of your tail, regaining the shape and length of your legs.

Was that all it took? Dry land? Or just being out of the water…these waters.

You didn’t tell your parents what happened that night, you didn’t know how. For the longest time, you wondered if it had been a dream or some type of hallucination. Yet the memory of feeling the water, listening to the whales, and re-visualizing the clarity of your sight, you knew that it was neither.