#just in case the fish in the picture is dead

[blackseakraft]

TY FOR THE TAG!! @leapingbadger

What's the origin of your blog title? I like to write phrases and nice sounding things in my sketchbook while I draw in case I want to use them for something later. Black Sea Foam was one of them. It doesn't mean anything, I just like the way it sounds.

OTP(s) + Shipname: I don't engage in shipping much, but I suppose it's TechPhee since I've actually drawn them being cute together multiple times.

Favorite color: BRIGHT Fuschia, a little on the purple side. It reminds me of the Dark Crystal.

Favorite game: Red Dead Redemption TWOOO will probably be my favorite game forever.

Song stuck in your head: Heat Waves by Glass Animals

Weirdest habit/trait? I HATE people touching my fingernails, I compulsively press down on them because they're just really sensitive I guess. I've never ever gotten a manicure for this reason. I've worn press on nails one time and it drove me INSANE I couldn't think about anything else. I tried to tough it out for two more days but it never got better. Weirdly though, when I lose chunks of my fingernails from sports and stuff I don't really care.

Hobbies: Drawing, painting, knitting, writing, skijoring, bikejoring, hiking, downhill skiing, mountain biking (planning on finally getting a real bike this summer), Model/Figure/Mini painting, Dungeons & Dragons (I'm a PC in one game and a DM in another and I couldn't be more pleased at the moment), Reading, Lego (when I want to treat myself), a little bit of fishing and crabbing but I suck at it.

If you work, what's your profession? I am a Fisheries Biologist! Well I'm technically a Science Technician, but biologist gets the point across easier. I'm working up to being a biologist. I mostly work in the field, walking or floating rivers looking for salmon and sending the data to my bosses who use it for managing fisheries. I keep getting hurt though so I'm looking for a new job with less physical labor at the moment.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? A homesteader/artisan. My dream is to have some property and be mostly self-sufficient, have a ton of animals, and use art and crafting for supplemental income. Might have to wait for retirement, but I still love my job now.

Something you're good at: I'm very good at learning by watching, or reverse engineering something to figure out how it works. I feel like my brain lends itself well to engineering-type thinking because it is easy for me to picture structures in 3d and move them around in my brain. It helps a lot with art, sculpting, and animation. I think drawing representatively since I was a young child really developed this part of my brain.

Something you're bad at: Understanding abstract concepts like physics or advanced finances (do not ask me what anything more complicated than a loan is, I will cry).

Something you love: I LOVE my new weighted blanket. I've never owned one before, but it really helped me relax while I was recovering from a concussion last week lol. My dog loves it too.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: The connections between Spirituality, Nature, and Art. I have a few friends who I engage in this topic with and we will go on for HOURS. I always feel so thankful afterward.

Something you hate: When someone leaves their water bottle loose in my car and it rolls around while I'm driving >:0

Something you collect: I collect driftwood with holes in it! Usually comes from thick pieces of outer wood that grew around a branch and somehow came off the tree with the hole intact. I LOVE THAT SHIT.

Something you forget: Well if I could remember what it was I'd tell you.

What's your love language? QUALITY TIME!!! Sharing experiences especially when they involve movement, or body doubling. LOVE IT.

Favorite movie/show: My favorite movie is Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal.

Favorite food: AAA damn idk. Anything savory. I am so down bad for fishy stuff recently, like dried squid and clams. I suppose I'll just say seafood in general.

Favorite animal: Besides the obvious (dogs and horses) my favorite animal is a Reindeer/Caribou!

What were you like as a child? Feral. I used to pretend i was some kind of animal at all times, got in to a lot of trouble at stores for doing things like spitting on the windows and running around. Absolutely should have been tested for ADHD at a younger age.

Favorite subject at school? Art is the obvious one. I also loved science, which is also sort of obvious.

Least favorite subject: In college I really struggled with Physics and Economics.

What's your best character trait? I am very patient. I think because the rest of my family is extremely impatient, I went the other direction. It contributes hugely to my mental health and makes creating things extremely fun. On the other hand, I tend to not stand up for myself when I should. It's hard for me to recognize when it's appropriate to stop being patient.

What's your worst character trait? Emotional sensitivity. It's my greatest weakness and strength. Confrontation of any kind makes me freak out, it's hard to know what battles to pick, and I usually choose the wrong ones. It has a lot of benefits too though! I think intuition and sensitivity go hand and hand, it helps a lot with dog training. I think it makes animals intuitively drawn to you as well.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? I'd make my dog less anxious and reactive. He's doing great and is happy and fulfilled, but I will never be able to fully trust him outside of our comfort zone. It's a constant anxiety I have to live with, but working with trainers (and therapy for myself lol) has helped so much and I have so many tools to help both of us.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Jim Henson!!

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@eobe @spicy-tomato-sauce @disaster-by-chance @paperback-rascal @ghostymarni and YOU IF YOU BOTHERED TO READ THIS

I tagged every moot for THIS blog, there are too many on my main lol

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #424

Wolf herring!

A family of only two species, wolf herrings are closely related to herrings! Unlike herrings, however, wolf herrings have long, sharp teeth and can grow to be about one meter in length (3 feet-ish).

[breoasis]

Portrait of the Codfather

My contribution for @empiropediazine !! It's been done since june and i'm very excited i can finally post it :] Make sure to check the zine if you haven't already, even more if you're a fan of worldbuilding. I'm not great at worldbuilding that's why i applied just for the portrait lol

I'll leave some design notes under the cut for anyone interested <3 I'd love to hear people's thoughts on the zine and the emperors portaits (i'm biased)

- Jimmy's design is very far from his original skin for Empires s1 because let's be honest, it was just a recolor of his superhero skin, we gotta make it more interesting. I have a full design ref for him but breaking it down: green and brown hues (very swampy), orange-red for a pop of color and contrast, clothes made out lots of fabric (old and shredded to emulate vines and water plants for the swampy vibe) and the Codfather's head (mask in this case) which is heavily inspired by the headwear of Link's zora armor from Twilight Princess + the red fabric to cover the back of his head.

- Holding a dead salmon for obvious reasons.

- For the designs on the picture frame i took some inspo from european medieval illustrations, that's why there's two fish with human faces, i found a picture just like that and i thought it was funny. The rest is just cod, blue orchids and orchid leaves.

[sir-kettle-of-countertop]

So, I saw a post circulating here about the “extinction of birds in 2023“, with this picture attached

My, what a bold claim! All these poor birdies, “went extinct” in just one year alone? Why would such an outrageous, depressing and catchy claim be spread around? Let’s fact check it.

All the species listed, Bachman’s wabler (Vermivora bachmanii, 1988 or 1980s), Kāmaʻo or large Kauaʻi thrush (Myadestes myadestinus, 1989 or 1987), Bridled white-eye (Zosterops conspicillatus, 1983 and 1983), Kauai ʻakialoa (Akialoa stejnegeri, 1969 or 1960s), Kauaʻi ʻōʻō (Moho braccatus, 1987 and 1987), Kauaʻi nukupuʻu (Hemignathus hanapepe, 1899 and 1899), Maui ʻakepa (Loxops ochraceus, 1988 and 1988), Kākāwahie or Molokaʻi creeper (Paroreomyza flammea, 1963 and 1963), Maui nukupuʻu (Hemignathus affinis, 1896* and 1996 ) and Poʻouli (Melamprosops phaeosoma, 2004 and 2004) are all, indeed, either extinct or possibly extinct, according to IUCN Red List of Threatened Species and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

What are the dates after the scientific names? Well, those all are *last sightings* per IUCN Red List and USFWS accordingly. So, these birds were not seen for DECADES and in one case FOR MORE THAN A GODDAMN CENTURY. And sure as hell there is NO information about them very suddenly being gone all last year.

What’s the deal then? Where did this claim even come from? Well, likely from this article "21 Species Delisted from the Endangered Species Act due to Extinction" from U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service. It includes all the birds in the picture (with the last date of sight, listed above).

From the article: “The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is delisting 21 species from the Endangered Species Act due to extinction. Based on rigorous reviews of the best available science for each of these species, the Service determined these species are extinct and should be removed from the list of species protected under the ESA. Most of these species were listed under the ESA in the 1970s and 80s and were in very low numbers or likely already extinct at the time of listing.”

They didn’t ALL fucking suddenly drop dead all in the same year – if they did, as some other people have already pointed out, there would be an uproar EVERYWHERE. Ornithologists alone would not let it live down. They were officially delisted from endangered status by U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service that year, there was a proposition to do so back in 2021, too. Some were already declared extinct before by IUCN.

Despite not being seen for so long, they remained on the list of critically endangered for a long while, cause you cannot just immediately declare a species extinct. There’s no RTS unit amount number that goes to 0 once there’s nothing left; people keep checking for them over and over and over again. Sometimes it turns out that a species previously thought to be extinct is actually still out there. Attenborough's long-beaked echidna for example was last sighted SIXTY YEARS ago before being sighted again in 2023. It was thought to be extinct for a while, before 2007, when signs of its activity was spotted again. More often than not though, a species turns out to be actually very extinct, unfortunately – like in this case. I cannot possibly know if the creators of this picture, or people that spread it on social media ever had good intentions behind it for awareness, however even if they did, it turned out to be nothing but very blatant misinformation, with a fearmongering effect. The only thing this achieves is not awareness of habitat destruction or pernicious tourist influence or climate change or what have you – the only thing this achieves is despair and panic. People already so casually fall into complete doomerism, they’re very used to hear bad news. And guess what doomerists do? Typically nothing. It renders people helpless. It’s not gonna make people get up and be ready for action, it, at best, would just make people feel sad and/or angry, or at worst, feed into the current alarming rise of ecofascism. NOTHING good comes out of this. At the very goddamn least, no one needs to lie to promote a goal.

The aim of the USFWS article, on the other hand, IS to make people aware about those animals that are already gone from the face of the planet, no matter how long ago, and that now we have to protect those animals that are critically endangered and still out there – to not have to repeat those tragedies.

Be very critical of what you see on the internet, especially if it’s sited with no sources. Especially-especially if it causes a strong emotional reaction. Lies and misinfo could only hurt the cause, no matter how noble. And please, be aware of your local wildlife status. Check in with it accoding to trusted sources.

[*sic, possibly a typo and it was meant to be 1996, other confirmed date listed there is 1989] Addendum: I could not for sure find the uncredided (who woulda thunken that ppl that don't cite their sources would also not credit the artists) author(s) of the bird illustrations. If someone finds them, please, let me know! Edit: Huge thanks to moosefinch for finding the sources for the artwork! I'll add their contribution below:

"Image sources!

The Kauai ʻakialoa, Kauaʻi ʻōʻō, Maui ʻakepa and Kauaʻi nukupuʻu are from Birds of the World.

The "Maui nukupuʻu" and "Molokaʻi creeper" illustrations are also Birds of the World, but are actually a female Kauaʻi nukupuʻu (the other being the male) and Laysan honeycreeper/Laysan ʻapapane respectively.

The bridled white-eye is by Lauren Helton according to this source.

Bachman's warbler is by Lynn Hawkinson Smith/smithhouse2 according to this Etsy listing.

The Poʻouli is by Christina Czajkowski."

[alltimefail]

Can we take a second to talk about Niko's connection to the Principal?

Because I think we all moved on a little quickly from that!

General disclaimer before we begin: this is just my own theory and my personal interpretations. <3

As a refresher, The Principal is the Night Nurse's "Superior." We see her for the first time at the end of season 1, episode 8. In this theory, I will be analyzing the potential role The Principal plays in DBDA, especially where our beloved Niko Sasaki is concerned.

A connection between The Principal and Niko is undoubtable to me for two reasons: the first reason being that they intentionally focused the camera on The Principal zero-ing in on Niko's case card, and she has a visible emotional reaction to seeing Niko's name.

The second being that, before departing, she quotes what Tragic Mick told Niko before the face-off with Esther which ultimately resulted in her death.

One popular theory I saw floating around in the first few weeks after DBDA released was that The Principal is Niko herself, and while this is a fun concept I can't get behind it because, well, Niko is "alive" at the end of the season. Yuyu has confirmed that she's the one in the igloo with the sprites, and Steve has confirmed that Niko is not dead/off the show as well. While we have no clue where the igloo is for certain, or what state Niko is in, it's safe to say that Niko has not moved on to her afterlife, so she can't be the Night Nurses' superior in the Lost and Found Department.

My theory doesn't reinvent the wheel, but I personally think The Principal could be Niko's mother.

From a non-storyline standpoint, The Principal looks to be a perfectly appropriate age to have a 16 year old daughter. From a casting standpoint, Yuyu and Tamlyn also are a convincing mother/daughter pair. I think their mannerisms (body language and expressions) are even a bit similar:

But most importantly, from a writing and storyline standpoint, Niko's mother is mentioned multiple times throughout the season but we never actually see her or hear from her - not in a phone call, a voicemail, or even in a picture in Niko's meticulously decorated, aesthetic bedroom. This is what leads me to believe that the persistent mention of Niko's mom is an example of Chekhov's gun being fired.

Emphasis here on: "If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there."

From the persistent plotline surrounding...

Niko's grief not just with her father's death but also with her mother who sent her to school across the world literally the day after her father's funeral to "escape the sadness,"

to the pile of letters from her mother that she couldn't bring herself to respond to,

to the response letter she finally writes to her mom but we don't learn the fate of,

to Niko telling Crystal that her mom would always say "A mother's intuition is very strong," (which could be why The Principal reacted to Niko's case card in the way she did...)

to even Jenny mentioning Niko's mom in the finale

... and so on, the writers seem to mention her as often as they can, even up to the very end. This makes Niko's mom a sort of looming figure in the narrative, a thought persistently brought back in a "Hey, remember this?" kind of way to the viewer, and that kind of intentional presence needs to serve a purpose or have some kind of payoff later. After all - if it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there... if we aren't going to get some kind of closure regarding Niko's family, especially her mother who is still alive, it shouldn't be brought to the viewer's attention again and again.

Also, The Principal being Niko's mother would make Niko at least half supernatural being (we don't know much about her father, but considering the fact that he's dead we can assume he was likely fully human). Niko being half supernatural-being would explain a few allusive plotlines such as:

Why Angie the fish does not try to tempt Niko into the water.

Why Crystal tells Niko that she should stay behind and not fight Esther because Niko is "Just a human."

Why we don't see Niko's spirit separate from her body at any point, nor do we get Death's blue light.

How the Principal knows Tragic Mick's last words to Niko and why she quotes them to the boys who were not even present at the moment the sentiment was delivered the first time.

Starting with Angie, it's obvious why the boys are not affected by her call: Charles and Edwin are incorporeal spirits, they have no physical body and Angie's call is sent out with the goal of finding food to eat, plain and simple. Niko not hearing Angie's call, considering the fact that she's flesh and bone just like Crystal, is noteworthy to say the least. After all, we can safely assume Angie's call can beckon more than one person at a time because the group is worried about the populated kite festival becoming an all-you-can-eat buffet, essentially. They need to figure out the case and only have 24 hours to do so before area is filled with bodies for Angie to tempt into the water, that's the whole time-constraint conflict that adds pressure to an already delicate situation. The first time Crystal hears the call she is with Charles at the top of the lighthouse with Niko nowhere near Angie, but the second time Crystal hears Angie she and Niko are standing literally right next to each other. Niko then confirms that there's "No voice" coming from the water after they save Crystal, but considering how Niko's grief surrounding the death of her father is such a huge part of her characterization - in the same way Crystal not remembering her parents is critical to hers - it makes no sense that Angie wouldn't try to lure in Niko as well by using the voice of her deceased father.

But let's consider what we learn from the Night Nurse: trans-dimensional beings don't die when they're swallowed by a giant fish, so they do not satiate Angie's desire for food. This is why everyone assumes Kashi is not human because he, like The Night Nurse, is alive inside the stomach of a fish. So if Niko's mother is like The Night Nurse, a trans-dimensional being, that would explain why Angie's call would not effect Niko, because Angie just wants to eat... and ghosts and immortal beings (even if only semi-immortal) do not count as food.

As for Crystal telling Niko to stay behind because she's human: this line felt so... strange to me the first time I watched the series. After thinking about it though, I couldn't help but compare it to Charles' line in the pilot episode right before they enter Esther's house. He tells Crystal that "She still has a life to lose" and they want to "Protect it while they can," and while the sentiment is the same, the dialogue feels vastly more natural and understandable being delivered from the mouth of a ghost - a dead 16 year old boy - to an alive 16 year old girl. On the contrary, Crystal citing Niko being a human when she is also alive and very much a human just as capable of dying as Niko is, feels out of place. There's simply no need for Crystal to clarify that Niko is a human as the audience has already assumed that and been given no reason to believe otherwise. It's a small detail, but the only way for this line to make any sense is if it serves an ulterior motive - perhaps with the intention of getting the audience's gears turning and/or serving as the framework for a future plotline. Again, if Niko is related to The Principal, this would make her half supernatural at least... so, ironically, less human that Crystal is and less likely to face a typical human death...

which also might explain the "Outlook not so good" on the Magic 8-Ball. It's not the worst response you can get, it's not a critical failure or natural 1 in DnD so to speak... but it's also not great. Niko's not alive, but she's likely not as she once was either (but that's an entirely different can of worms).

As far as explaining how The Principal would know what Tragic Mick told Niko, I feel like an infinite trans-dimensional being who works as a higher up in the afterlife's Lost and Found Department would have no issue accessing their own child's file. We know the Lost and Found Department is nothing if not rigid, specific, and detail-oriented, and the files they have include the details of every child's death - it isn't so far-fetched to believe that Niko's file (and all the files, really) would also include insight on what Niko's last day on Earth (interactions and such) were like. Not to mention the fact that The Principal tells the boys she can pretty much do "Whatever she likes..." so she's powerful, she has resources and abilities that might even surpass those of the Night Nurse (who can literally dig around in people's minds and choke people with a snap of her fingers). If she is Niko's mother and she just lost her child and husband in a short amount of time, it would make sense for her to allow Charles and Edwin to keep doing what they do because they are helping people like her daughter, and maybe they could help her daughter again.

Lastly, I can't help but acknowledge how there is some kind of recognition, spark, or tenderness on The Principal's end when she first appears before the boys. I've seen other people say they feel similarly, almost like she seems disappointed or a bit taken aback when they ask who she is. She especially lingers on Edwin for a beat, and we all know how important Edwin was to Niko! Again, this is all just my own theory, but if The Principal is Niko's mother, her sparing the boys of being taken by the Lost and Found Department with the tenderness she does - by using Tragic Mick's words, the ones offered alongside a good luck charm (the last kind act toward Niko before she died) at the boys who loved her daughter and saved her once and could very well save her again - feels tear-jerkingly poetic to me. The Principal seems choked up before she goes, almost as if she's repaying them a favor they didn't know they were owed - the boys saved Niko once, and now that good fortune is coming back around to them.

So what would that all mean for next season? Where might Niko be? Who knows for sure! Perhaps she is imbued with Dandelion Sprite magic, or is currently an "Undead," a zombie, like the kind mentioned in the Night Nurse's book in Episode 6... but whatever she is, I have a feeling the boys and Crystal will find her again.

But all this to say, whether The Principal is Niko's mother, a reincarnation of Niko's father, an estranged aunt or family member we haven't met yet, a complete rando with invested special interest in Niko's case, or shit - even Niko herself somehow - I can confidently say that episode 8 won't be the last time we see The Principal, and that we're meant to draw a connection between her and Niko.

Now we just need a season 2 so we can get some answers @netflix!!!!!

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

For your safety

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Tetchou Suehiro x GN! Reader

Description: Monster followed after you. Tetchou won't let him hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Implied torture. Mentioned of serious injuries. Nightmares. Panic Attack (heavily inspired by "Puss in Boots: The last wish" scene), English is my second language. Dehumanisation (Capitano calls Reader 'it', Captaino is called an 'it' by Hunting Dogs). Tetchou is a soft protective yandere (yandere, if you squeeze) towards Reader.

________

Who would think, that Watasumi will let Fatui into Enkonomia.

But, catching Imposter was more important, than honoring old traditions.

Because Imposter was here.

And it was finally in Capitano's clutches.

Dirty Imposter, a creature, that dared to walked on the land, blessed by the Creator.

This thing was hiding in an old ruins.

Dressed in rugs, it was biting huge chunks from mushrooms it cooked earlier.

Capitano adjust his hold on claymore's hilt. Just one swing, and it will finally stop poisoning Teyvat.

Capitano took a step forward.

And he made a mistake. He stepped on a twig.

It turned around. It looks scared. It has dried tears on its cheeks.

It ran. As fast, as it can.

And Capitano followed after it.

He catches it.

He raised its claymore.

And Bathysmal Vishaps attacked him.

The damned oversized lizards were attacking non-stop. Keeping Capitano away from it.

Fatui Harbinger saw, how it was riding away on one of the vishaps.

Capitano failed.

_______

It, eventually, was caught.

Justice was almost served.

Until it disappeared.

_______

Capitano, the strongest warrior of Teyvat, head of the Holy Guard, was laying on a deck of a small boat. The boat itself was covered under camouflage awning from camouflage net, seaweeds, rotten wood, old bones of sea serpent and dried dead fish. Few mechanical birds finish the picture. The camouflage was done so skillfully that even from a close distance the boat could easily be mistaken for a dead creature, entangled in garbage and slowly driven by the waves.

The navigation was hard, almost impossible. But Capitano didn't utter a word of protest. He must find, where the dreaded Imposter was hiding.

One month ago, right during their execution, they disappeared. And ever since then, Capitano was ruthless.

If it weren't for vishaps, Capitano would kill it. Capitano was too weak.

So, it was his fault, that Creator was in distress. That, while they were remaining perfect in every way, their cheeks have wet trails from tears on them.

But, this time, Capitano will do it.

He learned about a strange portal in one of the coves, located on a small island in the sea.

Capitano destroyed all documents he had.

No need to worry Creator even more.

He will get to the island unnoticed. And he will get Imposter's head.

The boat finally reached the island.

There were no humans, no animals.

And the portal was here.

Capitano stepped into the portal.

________

Tetchou tuck you in, making sure, that you are laying comfortably under your blanket.

"[Y/N], I will go and bring you some flowers, okay?" softly mumbles Tetchou, looking at you. You nodded, the corners of your lips weakly quirked upwards.

"Sounds good." whispered you. Tetchou's finger ran through your hair. He liked, that you started to smile. He didn't like, that smile didn't reach your eyes.

Tetchou left, and Atsushi Nakajima walked inside your room to stay with you.

Tetchou heard Atsushi's voice behind the closed door. It seems, he was telling you a story.

Tetchou bit his lip and headed to the first floor. He needs to go outside and pick you some flowers.

Maybe, they will lift your mood, at least for a moment.

But, before going here, Tetchou took his sword from his room. In case, people, who did this to you, appeared.

Two months ago, you disappeared. No matter, how hard they try, they couldn't find you. Until, one day, one month ago, you reappeared again.

And you looked awful.

Every part of your body were covered in burns, woulds and scars. You were starving, thirty, and terrified.

Doctor Yosano treated your wounds.

All of them made sure, that you are well-fed and always have water.

And they were doing whatever it takes to help you regain your mental health.

You were terrified of being alone.

And there were always at least one of them next to you.

You were terrified of being hit.

And they were treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

You were terrified of Mori's voice.

And Boss of Port Mafia spoke only through Elise, whispering in her ear. He never raised his voice.

You have nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night, crying, shouting, that you are not an imposter, begging someone invisible not to hurt you.

And they were always near you, hugging you, drying your tears.

And mentally thinking about killing people, who did this to you.

Tetchou's hate was focused on Capitano.

________

A heavy foot stomped on your stomach, just below your ribs. It took all of your air out of lungs. You gasp, your mouth was wide open, but couldn’t get any air.

Capitano's booming voice filled your ears.

"Got you, little Imposter. Now, let me take that. We don't want you to miss it, aren't we?"

Two fingers pressed against your eyes.

A sharp, unbeatable burning pain.

"Here. Now, you won't be able to close your eyes ever again. Well, it's not like this ever will last for long."

Capitano raised his claymore.

You wanted so badly to close your eyes. But you don't have eyelids anymore.

The blade quickly sank down. Right in your face.

_______

Blood ponded in your ears.

You were breathing heavily.

Your heart was beating fast. You won't be surprised, if your whole body was shaking because of your heartbeats.

You can't focus your gaze in anything. Everything seemed like in a fog.

No sound escaped from your lips. Your moth and throat feels dry. Like you spent all your life without single drop of water.

You were choking. You were crying. You were sweating. You couldn't hear anything.

A heavy stone hand was put over your eyes. Now you were surrounded by darkness.

A heavy stone head was put on your chest. And it was moving.

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

You put your hand on Tetchou's head, that he laid on your chest. You whisper.

"Thank you... Tetchou..."

He took his hand away from your eyes. You two were silent. Tetchou were still breathing in the same rhythm.

And you were breathing with him.

______

Tetchou never told you, that you were screaming one name in your sleep.

And it was a scream of terror.

Capitano.

His enemy.

Tetchou was halfway to the flower beds, that Kenji made specifically for you, when he heard a loud crash coming from an empty barn.

_____

This man was huge.

Much taller, than Tetchou, dressed in strange armor, the man was towering over the member of Hunting Dogs.

Both males stood on the opposite sides of the barn. Tetchou was still standing near bars gates, while strange mad stand on the furthest wall.

Yellowish-ember eyes stare right into the black void of a mask.

"Who are you?" Tetchou's voice was emotionless. The man's booming voice echoed off the walls of the empty barn.

"I am Capitano, one of the Fatui Harbingers. I am searching for a sinful creature. Have you encountered an ugly creature this big?" Capitano moved his hand forward to show your height. "It has hideous..."

The rest of the words stuck in Capitano's mouth. A thin blade pierce through his palm, shoulder and sword's tip draw blood from his neck.

Tetchou didn't even move an inch. His eyes shrink.

"So... You are the same Capitano, who dared to hurt My Sakura Blossom... Our [Y/N]."

Tetchou dash forward.

And the floor cracked under his feet.

______

Tetchou never moved so fast in his life.

His sword was bending in impossible corners, piercing through Capitano's armor. Wounding, drawing blood.

Not killing.

The Strongest Warrior of Teyvat couldn't land a hit. Tetchou's determination to protect you, to avenge you, to keep you safe gave his strength.

The fight ended, when Tetchou manage to grab the hilt of Capitano's claymore.

Tetchou never used his ability on two-handed sword. Yet, a sword is a sword.

Without his legs, Capitano wasn't so tall anymore.

______

Capitano woke up in a room, that looked similar to Dottore's lab. He was suspended from the ceiling. Heavy chain was holding his arms together.

Hunting Dogs, except for Tetchou, were here. Jouno was the first one, who noticed, that Capitano was awake.

"So, it is finally decided to wake up." Jouno's voice was cold. Deadly.

Tachihara used his ability, to tie chains tighter. Accidentally' breaking Capitano's arm in a process.

"Here. It won't escape."

Teruko was almost dancing in one spot.

"Finally, I was dreaming about the moment I can get my hands on anyone, who dared to hurt our dear [Y/N]."

Fukuchi put his hand on Amenogozen's hilt.

"You aren't the only one, Teruko-kun. Doctor Yosano, should we start?"

Yosano, who was sitting in the dark corner, nodded.

Capitano got a taste of her ability for a few thousand times.

_____

Tetchou put flowers he picked for you in a vase. He noticed, how brighten up your eyes.

"They are beautiful, Tetchou. Thank you."

And a small smile. And this time, it reached your eyes.

Tetchou opened his arms, offering a hug.

And you hugged him, laying your head on his chest.

His arms wrapped around your frame. Protecting you from the outside world.

Tetchou promised to himself, that he will go beyond limits to protect your smile. No matter what, he will do anything he can.

For your safety

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 98 (Questioning Bay Security & Grim Pays an Unwanted Visit)

cw: pet death

While Conrad looked over his case files at the precinct, Detective Zion Spangler approached him. "Can you help me with the manager of Bay Security? He's resisting attempts to book him, and he says he won't talk to me."

Conrad knew J Huntington III through parent-teacher nights and school assemblies. Though his focus was meant to be on the search for Rafa and not the investigation into the suspicious death of Jimmy Stefano, Conrad was still frustrated by a lack of leads and agreed to talk to him.

"I don't have a clue what you brought me in for," he groused as the sergeant took his fingerprints.

"Questionable bookkeeping, Mr. Huntington, just like you were told when the detectives picked you up."

"Well, like hell I'm gonna talk to some green young nobody on the same force that needs our help to keep anyone safe in this town!"

Conrad sighed. "Well, if you don't talk to me, I can't promise you'll be home tonight for dinner with your wife and kids."

"Come on, Sargent. It's a few days before Winterfest and I promised my kids I'd take them out shopping for their mom."

He grew more cooperative after that, following Conrad into the interrogation room while Zion and a few others watched from the other side of the glass. J looked across the table with a sneer while Conrad pointed out where the cameras were inside the room.

"We're just trying to figure out why a security company with a monopoly at the docks was off duty that night, and there are some questions about the books. Really, there's a question about the lack of much in the way of books."

"We're a legal company. You should be talking to George Brindleton, not me. He said pull the guys, I pulled the guys. It's my job to do what he says."

"George is wintering in the sun, but if you don't give us enough to work with, we'll have to call him in for questioning when he gets back. You and I both know he won't like having to talk to us."

The thinly veiled threat was enough to get J to look at photos of the crime scene and give insight into his work for George Brindleton.

"We do what he wants and he signs big checks. He paid us to make up the loss in paid time so close to the holidays."

"He told our captain he was cutting costs in the dead season, but if he's paid you, regardless, he had another reason."

J shrugged. "Talk to George. I don't ask questions. It doesn't serve me."

"And breaking kneecaps to manage what goes in and out of the port serves you, instead?"

"That's the problem with law enforcement these days. You're too good. But people are terrible, Sargent Gordon."

"Is that what you tell your kids?"

"Your son is a Landgraab, Sargent. What do they know about being good?"

Conrad held his hands in his lap. "Ash is a lot like his mother."

J scowled and Conrad changed tactics. This wasn't getting them anywhere. "We looked into Bay Security, and we know George Brindleton is an arms-length investor. So why do you do strictly what he says?"

"There's a lot of simoleons in legacy families."

"What does that matter to you? J Huntington the Third, is it?"

"That's a joke. There's no J Huntington the First or Second, but my makers thought it'd be funny. It's not, and maybe you can guess why I don't speak to them these days. I named my son Caiden."

"What does George have on you?"

"On me? Nothing. I came into this job with the deal already in place, and it's better for my family if I just accept things as they are. I don't need to be a hero. I know a good cop like you wouldn't understand."

Conrad knew he was no hero. "Not one of your guys was hanging around the docks and saw anything the night of the murder? Isn't there a Friday night poker game in one of the old fishing boats?"

"If we don't have to break knees, Sargent, we don't. I don't keep tabs on them when they're not working."

"You've never seen the victim in Brindleton Bay before?"

He shook his head. "Not until you showed me that picture of him dead at the docks."

With little learned from the head of Bay Security, Conrad let J Huntington go with nothing gained in their search for Jimmy Stefano's killer. Ximena was still at large, but he was grateful she hadn't turned up around him or his family in the weeks since the murder, at least.

Winterfest was just a few days away, and Heather and Conrad planned to forge ahead with the holiday as if nothing was wrong. Heather, especially, was loath to let Ximena ruin her children's Winterfest, and they didn't want Ash to notice anything amiss.

But though they were wary of the threat posed by Ximena, they still faced unexpected tragedy right before the holiday break.

Heather's old cat, Boomer, got sick with hot feet. She took him to her clinic and tried to help him, but she soon realized there was nothing she could do. He was twenty-one; it was his time.

The fuzzy white mixed breed died of old age the night before Winterfest Eve. Heather had brought him home from the clinic so he could pass comfortably. When the time came, the Nesbitt-Gordon household was visited by a new friend.

After Grim helped Boomer cross the rainbow bridge, Heather invited him inside from the cold, and he comforted her over the loss. "Grief is a privilege reserved for those fortunate enough to know love," he said wisely.

Heather had many pets, and she dealt with loss at her clinic, but it didn't take the sting away. Not tonight. Still, she was grateful for Grim's kindness and sent him on his way with a smile. "Bella Goth's probably expecting you. Thank you for caring for Boomer tonight."

Grim disappeared with a pound of his scythe against the floor. Despite the advice, Heather was heartbroken, and the holiday season began under a cloud of sadness at the Nesbitt-Gordon home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: In game, J Huntington III is married to Liberty Lee and they have two kids, son Caiden and daughter Alexis. J breaks kneecaps and Liberty's an astronaut, apparently.

[hannahssimblr]

Pretending to be good at driving isn’t as easy as I assumed. It’s not like pretending to be into wine, or classical music, or other such things that allow you to nod along and smile, and make statements bland enough to seem vaguely knowledgeable. Italians drive on the right, and I’m terrified, yet one of my hands is nonchalantly out the open window of the rental car, resting against warm metal, while the other white knuckles the wheel. Tyres toss dust into the air behind us, and I feel like we’re starring in a film about Americans in southern Italy, where the sky is colour graded cyan blue, and the greens bleached out, dulled to bone dry ochre so that you know it is hot and poor. 

I don’t think I have ever been much of a driver, despite the belief of my classmates back at school who assumed I must be, simply because I owned a car. Yes, I could drive it. I could control the clutch, shift the gears and manoeuvre myself into a parking space with semi-accuracy, but the traffic in Dublin was so diabolical that I spent most of my driving career crawling by, metre by metre, bumper to bumper until I’d give up, pull into the train station and get the DART the rest of the way. The other times, I was having disappointing sex in the passenger seat, or eating ice creams from McDonalds, a dead eyed stare over the bay on Fridays after school, just to have a way to unwind. 

The road to Amalfi is a narrow twist of hairpin turns carved from a mountain, climbing above little towns and a verdant landscape which I picture dried to brush by the time July’s heat comes, a landscape in sepia tones.

Warm, dry air kisses my sweat dampened skin as I climb out of the car to the smell of the sea. Salt and seaweed, and fish, from a seafood restaurant by the water. Waves lap against the shore in a gentle symphony as seagulls circle above the vibrant hum of a busy tourist town. 

The first thing Astrid wants to do is take photographs. And so, she perches on a low wall, against a backdrop of azure waters and green capped mountains, and poses for the camera. I take several, in a variety of positions, and indulge her whims by digging her straw hat out from the car boot so that she can pose with it, one hand on the brim as she looks out over the Tyrrhenian sea like it is her kingdom. 

I get her to take some with me, too, using the front facing camera on my phone, then choose one to send to my mother. 

We’re in Italy. Wonderful. Enjoy. 

I suspect it will be weeks before we communicate again. 

“It looks like it did on the website, anyway,” I say, as I unload our cases outside our villa. It is loaded with picturesque, old-world charm, the brick exterior crumbling slightly from salt and age. We decided that a villa with a pool would suit us best when I booked it, surmising we would appreciate a swim before breakfast under the morning sun. I gaze at my reflection now, a ripple of dark hair against the cloudless sky and take a moment to relax my shoulders, and thank God it will be ten days before I have to drive those perilous roads again.

 Our footsteps echo against the hallway tile. Astrid gazes around her as I haul our bags upstairs. 

“It’s quite nice,” she says, an understatement that incites a chuckle from me. This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed at, including a family member’s desert guest house in Palm Springs. It is perfect. From behind the wrought iron banisters I spy a small living room, white linen couches and a bowl of fresh oranges on the table, and suspect they are from the tree outside. 

“It’s a marvellous view from here,” Astrid says at the bedroom window while I roll the last of our cases across the floor towards the wardrobe. I won’t want to unpack them. I usually live out of my bags while I’m travelling, but I suspect Astrid will like things hung up and put away. With the heat and the exhaustion from travelling, I cannot face the thought. I join her at the window, where we look out upon a small dock, little coloured boats floating in water so serene, so clear that we can see their shadows at the bottom of the sea.

“Woah, yeah. It’s pretty here, huh?”

“I told you that,” she says, leaning into my chest. “I think this is the best place in the world.” 

“Touristy, though, don’t you think?” Across the little bay, the coastal road is traffic jammed, holidaymakers weaving between the cars. A tour yacht glides by, its linen clad passengers pointing their cameras toward the charming little houses that cling to the mountainside, including ours. I raise my hand to wave at them, though I’m certain they cannot see us. 

“We are tourists too,” she points out. “It’s good for the economy. If we weren’t here, the restaurants and craft shops would have to close.”

I hum in vague agreement, caught in between two ways of thinking. Jonas paced my room as I packed my bags for the airport, giving me a spirited, if not slightly manic, lecture about the perils of tourism, from environmental degradation, cultural disruption, exploitation and overcrowding. 

“Shut up,” I said. “You and I are going to Thailand in June.” And he argued it was different, because he had intentions of learning about the cultures and traditions, and being respectful, unlike all the other tourists, trying to take pictures in the temples with their shoes still on and eating in Subway instead of trying a new cuisine. 

Still, the conversation has left me with a vague feeling of nuisance I’ve never experienced while travelling abroad. I look around this bedroom, the voile curtains fluttering in the breeze that floats through the open balcony door, and fear I am gentrifying the town just by standing here. What if they hate me, the locals, and the chino trousers in my suitcase, the way my hair is pushed back, my trendy little sunglasses? I couldn’t even ask for water in Italian if I wanted to.

But Astrid can. Perfect, clever Astrid. She gazes at her appearance in the mirror, and smooths out her dress, which shows no signs of having been travelled in. She combs her fingers through her pin straight hair, and a strand comes loose, floating through the sun rays like a strand of white silk. 

I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her neck. “This is a great room, hm?”

“Yes, it’s spacious.”

“We could spend a lot of time in here.” I slide my hand over her ribs and cup her breasts. She sighs and lifts them away. “Don’t. Not now. We’ll put creases in the fabric.”

“You can change into another outfit.” God knows, she has packed enough clothes. 

She twists out of my arms and opens her suitcase on the bed, retrieving her toothbrush. “I don’t feel clean after travelling. I’d need time to have a shower and freshen myself up first.”

To this, I laugh. “I don’t really care about that, to be honest. Like, I’ll go down on you no matter–”

“Well, I do.” She pushes through to the adjacent bathroom. The tap squeaks, and water splashes into the sink. “I want to see the town, anyway. I don’t want to waste the day in bed together.”

“I never think a day is wasted like that.”

“Well, we can do it later. Perhaps after dinner.”

“Very organised,” I say, and she doesn’t respond. She’s brushing her teeth. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Bee and the Bear, Chapter 2: Back in the Beef

summary: carmy takes the first step to mending his relationship with you.

pairing: carmy berzatto x fem!reader (Bee)

contents: 18+/NSFW/eventual smut, grief, death of family member, explicit language, pining, longing

wc: 2.3k

an: back with part 2! i really love these two and the whole “will they, won’t they” vibes they give off. like obviously they’re in love and have been avoiding their whole lives, rippppp. let me know if i missed any warnings. thoughts/comments/reblogs are always appreciated!

series masterlist

chapter 1: And Then There Were 4 < |

Carmy usually doesn’t answer the phone– not because he doesn’t want to and not because he doesn’t care but because he’s busy. There’s always something to do. He’s always needed in the present, always necessary with each new step forward and that lends itself to be distant with those who aren’t right in front of you. But, when you call Carmy to let him know that The Beef is his, his phone is in his hand. He nearly drops it, watching as your contact name and an outdated picture of the two of you pop up on his screen.

He doesn’t decline the call, he watches it ring and ring until it goes to voicemail. And when your face disappears from the screen, his chest goes empty. The voicemail icon replaces the missed call notification on his phone and his hands grow clammy. He shoves his phone back into his coat pocket and fishes out a cigarette, lighting it quickly. After a few pulls he feels much more equipped to listen to your message.

This had to be about Mikey.

You’ve given up on him and stopped calling years ago when he failed to reciprocate your attempts at connection. Carmy’s sure that Mikey’s death is the only thing that could make you tolerate him after that. The ship he so desperately wanted to get on but ignored has sailed. But, maybe this call could be a lifeboat. Maybe through loss, he could get you back.

Were you calling to give him your condolences? To chew him out for not showing up to his brother’s funeral? He could take something like that from Sugar or Richie, even his mother– but not from you. From you, it would feel like a knife to the heart. He listens to the voicemail anyway.

Too much time has passed since he’s heard your voice. It's different and yet somehow all the same— a little deeper and less girlish— but still so smooth and sweet. You sound nervous and the beginning makes him chuckle under his breath in a white puff of air from the cold.

“Oh fuck, sorry. H-Hi, Carmen. It’s…it’s me. Nat and I just went through Mikey’s will and well…he left it to you. The Beef I mean, it’s yours. Sugar really needs you to come home to figure this out.”

Carmy goes breathless, eyes shutting as his mind starts to whirl. The restaurant he never got to work in is now his? Mikey had left him The Beef? Mikey had hardly ever trusted him with anything once he went away, and now is the time that he wants his skills? When he’s dead?

There’s a swell of emotions in his chest that make it tighten— grief, anger, devastation— and he’s about to hang up by smashing the phone into the ground when your voice plays again.

Your voice is softer this time, but infused with desperation and even some grit: “Just come home and help your fucking sister. Please, Carmy.”

He has no choice now. Not when you sound like that. He goes inside and quits his job. On the walk home he books a plane ticket and once inside he packs everything he can fit in a suitcase and calls around for storage units.

It’s time to go back to The Beef.

—

Carmy puts the ad out for a sous before he’s even finished packing. A day later when he gets a call from a chef named Sydney.

Sydney’s been waiting for something like this to roll around. She scours and picks through ads no matter the time of day: while she cases her route, in her ice-block of a mail truck on lunch, at 2 a.m. when she’s up writing recipe notes in her tiny black book. Before he’s even seen her resume he can feel that she’s the one but tells her to bring her resume to stag at the end of the week. He needs to feel the click in person before he just hires her on, especially with the shitshow he knows he’s about to put her through.

Mikey wasn’t wrong: The Beef is a mess. Nothing is clean, there’s no technique or nuisance, and the staff is rowdy and combative. Thank god for Sydney and her training, her tact. He’d be drowning otherwise. He was right about her, they’re perfect partners, finishing each other’s thoughts and movements, and ideas.

Richie’s hovering, ignoring his responsibilities to fuck with Carmy when he says, “Still can’t believe you let her walk out like that.”

Carmy meets Richie’s playful gaze with a glare, “Cousin, do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”

“Let who walk out?” Sydney asks curiously, eyes trained on her prep.

“Bee,” Fak supplies, perched on the counter behind them.

“Shut up, Fak,” Carmy pleads.

Sydney glances over her shoulder at him, “And who are you again?”

“I’m Fak. The Fak. Well there are multiple Faks but—“

Carmy cuts him off quickly, not in the mood to hear another one of his rants, “He fixes things for us. By the way Fak, aren’t you suppose to be, I don’t know, fucking working?”

“You got it.”

Sydney tries to keep her voice nonchalant, hoping that Carmy won’t feel pressured by her when she asks, “Who’s Bee?”

“Childhood friend,” He says reluctantly. “Can we focus on prep?”

Sydney ducks her head, that regret from before surging inside of her, “Yes, chef.”

“Thank you, chef.”

For the first time since he’s arrived, Carmy’s grateful for the insanity of The Beef. For the way that Tina and Ebra and Marcus and Richie never stop talking a mile a minute because they distract him from thoughts of you. All the guilt and shame that comes with the way he treated everyone of course, but most of all you. He’d always gotten vibes from you, even before he did on his own, Richie and Mikey and Sugar were trying to get him to open his eyes. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that freeing you of him was the best for everyone involved.

“Cousin.” Richie’s voice pulls him out of his robotic routine.

Carmy’s eyes dart to the kitchen’s entrance but his hands don’t stop, “Fuck, what is it?”

When Richie’s voice is that quiet and earnest there’s a problem. Your face popping around Richie’s arm is enough of an answer and Carmy’s heart drops into his stomach. This wasn’t how he hoped to see you again. He’s been crafting a text for days, trying to figure out the best way to ask you to talk. But talking about all of it sounds so daunting. The double-edged sword of picking and prodding at all your shared wounds in some hopes of healing.

You glare up at Richie, “Richie, where’s Sugar? Why are you bein’ a fucking weirdo?”

“Oh, another person. Ok, ok,” Sydney nods, before turning back to her prep.

“Bee– what’re you doing here?” Carmy’s voice breaks and he winces at the way it sounds. It's not that he’s disappointed to see you, he just never wants you around this place. He’s all too aware that that sounds too much like Mikey, but quickly pushes the thought into the back of his mind.

Sydney’s curiosity peaks again at the sight of you. What are the odds that the seemingly infamous Bee would show up after Carmy avoided talking about her? 100%. She waves her knife at you, “Hi, I’m Sydney. Carmy’s sous.”

You smile at the woman, eyes lingering on her beautiful, patterned scarf for a moment, “Hi Sydney, good to meet you. Since Richie’s not answering my questions, have you seen Sugar?”

“Sugar’s not here,” Richie says simply, leaning up against the wall as eyes flicker between you and Carmy.

“She’s not here,” You repeat, your face twisting with confusion.

Carmy wipes his hands on his apron, stepping over to you with eyes full of concern, “Why? What’s wrong? What’s up?”

The way he’s looking at you makes your heart flutter in your chest. Goddamn those fucking blue eyes, so soft and so sad. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. She just— she told me to drop this off to her. Why would she not be here?

Carmy groans, scrubbing his hand over his face. His fucking sister. Always having to step in, always having to meddle and get in her hands in places they don’t belong. She’d set you— both of you up.

“I’ll be right back, Syd.”

“Gotcha.”

“Come with me,” He murmurs. You realize a beat too late that he's talking to you, so he grabs your hand and pulls you back to Mikey’s office. To his office. He releases your hand quickly, “Uh, what is it?”

You ignore the sweat that slicks your palms, trying not to think about whose it is, “Some paperwork that you’d need for the restaurant? I think it’s the deed, y’know switching it from Mikey to you. You’ll need it for like inspection or taxes or—“

He takes the envelope from your hands, his fingers brushing your own, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

He does that thing he always does, squinting at you for a moment that shows he’s turning a thought over and over in his head.

You smile awkwardly at him, though that familiar look on his face endears him to you, “What?”

“Do you wanna hang out tomorrow night?” He asks in a mumbled rush.

He speaks so quickly that you almost don’t understand him, except that you’ve been waiting for him to ask you that question since you were 18.

“What?”

He shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair, “Hang out, do you want to like do something?”

“With me?”

He raises a brow like he doesn’t know what you mean, “Yeah, you could come to my apartment? I could cook.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, sure. It’s been a while.”

He laughs, nodding a few times, “Yeah it has.”

You chuckle, licking your lips, “I imagine this is what Sugar wanted.”

His eyes track your mouth before he can stop himself but he forces his gaze back up, “Yeah, she’s smart like that.”

“She is. I’ll let her know her plan worked,” You tease.

He laughs again— a short, bright sound, “Cool, cool. So, I’ll text you my address?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Should I bring anything?”

“Some wine, maybe?”

“Any kind?”

“Anything you want, Bee.”

And god the way he says your name. The way he’s looking at you again with those stupidly pretty blue eyes. You never stood a chance.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He sighs in relief now that the hard part is done, his smile widening at the thought of you sitting at his kitchen table, “Heard.”

You snort, shaking your head at his stupid chef talk, “Heard.”

The two of you are too wrapped up in each other, floating in your bubble of awkward bliss to have heard that Sydney’s knife stopped chopping, or that Richie stopped fucking with someone else. Too occupied to hear their steps get closer and closer to the office, or that the tips of their heads are peaking around the corner. That is until you playfully push his shoulder, pushing his body in a way that brings them into his peripheral vision.

Carmy’s eyes go wide for a moment, his head tilting in inquiry as he looks at Sydney and Richie, “You two joinin’ forces, huh?”

Sydney gives you a sheepish smile, her eyes full of regret, “We were just— we were um—“

“Good to meet you, Sydney. Richie,” You say as you snake between the two of them.

Richie dips to press a kiss to your temple, “See you, sweetheart.”

Carmy returns to his station without a word to either of them even when they join him back in the kitchen. For a while there’s silence again– though this time it is clearly awkward, full of things unsaid.

Breaking the silence, Richie does his best impression of Carmy, “Hang out, do you want to like do something?”

Carmy points the knife at him, scowling, “Oh, fuck you Richie! Why don’t you fuck off.”

Sydney tries to hold in her laughter and fails, giggling, “She must be down pretty for that to have worked.”

Carmy’s brows raise so high it’s comical, “Oh, really?”

“I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”

“Yeah, fuck you, fuck the both of you,” He says through a laugh.

Richie does fuck off, going back out to the front of house to do his job for once. It leaves Sydney and Carmy in the hustle and bustle of prep again.

She bumps his shoulder with her own, “You deserve it, Carmy.”

His mouth twitches as he glances over at her and when their eyes meet, he knows she’s being genuine. “Thanks, Syd. Can we like, maybe never talk about this again?”

“Totally, yeah. For sure. Absolutely,” She agrees easily and they both laugh, deep in their bellies.

–

You drive home with a lightness in your step, one you are pointedly trying to ignore because this is nothing but two friends seeing each other after being apart for some while. You have a partner to go home, a life to go home to. And Carmy’s never given you any indication that this was more than friendship. He wouldn’t have left you out in the cold if it was more…right? He wouldn’t do this to you if he loved you like that, would he? It doesn’t matter how many times you try to rationalize what has and hasn’t happened between you and Carmy– it never makes it hurt less.

That night a wave of nostalgia washes over you as you lay in your childhood bedroom, thinking about Carmy. You feel 16 again, staring up at the faded purple paint covered in droves of flowers. As you close your eyes, you answer some of those questions that popped into your mind at the thought of calling him.

He is the machine you thought he’d become. But his eyes are just as deep, but sadder. His laugh is the same, a little awkward but just as genuine. The flush in his cheeks proves that his heart still beats. He is that boy you fell in love with all those years ago, even as the man he’s become.

He’s your Carmy. Your Bear. It makes you ache.

| > chapter 3: Like a Bear to a Hive

18+ carmy taglist: @treefingers, @mrsdominickstark, @princess-of-fanfics, @whore-for-murdock, @xxxstormyninixxx, @dreamingwithlens, @thecraziestcrayon, @jam1esl0v4, @lilylovelyxo, @jadeittic, @jotarokuj0, @bunnysthngs, @gcidrvsh, @mistalli, @luvr-bunnyy, @s3xymoonman, @salinaiacono6

If you ask to be added to the taglist but didn’t verify you’re 18+ you will not be added!

[apollosunshineisdead]

my favorite lyric or two from every will wood song

Everything is a Lot:

6up 5oh: "they shoulda fried me, I'll give ya PTSD!"

skeleton Appreciation Day: "give me all your LSD so i can feel my mind unweave again!"

front Street: "you said let loose, but now you're lost"

aikido!: "i told doctor tillis to prescribe an illness, but he said his schedule's filled with children with need Prozac, prilosec and lo-jack, triple-sec and lexapro"

white Knuckle Jerk: "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery, and i watched them botch my heart"

cover This Song!: "i'm just a little bit crazy 'bout you, just a little bit out of my mind"

Thermodynamic Lawyer: "so all that i see, absolute entropy as the chemical bounds fall apart"

red Moon: "the crescent rests, tethered to the west"

lysergide Daydream: "ooh, i wanna be on the picture on the postcard, pouring pitchers in the backyard by the garden we tend"

the First Step: "i lost count after 21 in the college crawl"

jimmy Mushrooms': "i think the truth is that everyone's wrong!"

Compound Fracture: "bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas"

everything is a Lot: "night sky, i wonder why i am alive until i die / i find that at this size, no answer can be right"

destroy to Enjoy: "lao tzu, chaung tzu, yin-yang tattoos, FUCK your mystic wisdom! find your own way home from Bonnaroo!"

SELF-iSH:

self-: "i'll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves..."

2012: "testing my hypothesis, never finding a theory!"

cotard's Solution: "rolling my third eye into the back, of my head and squinting through the black"

mr. Capgras: "eulogy or biography, i'm who i ought to be, and that is God to me"

the Song with 5 Names: "WHAT IS "IS"? WHAT IS "NOT"? WHAT IS "WHAT"? WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLE! WHAT? / WHY I WONDER WHY I'M NOT WHATEVER, WHAT THE FUCK!"

hand Me My Shovel: "looking up, i could say Heaven sent me! / hand me my shovel, i'm going in!"

dr. Sunshine is Dead: "i'm noone if i'm nowhere in between!"

-ish: "well at 27 will i see, that i was born to be the man i'll be?"

The Normal Album:

greetings from Mary Bell Township!: "so give me your half-life crisis / i can tell that you know where paradise is!"

(vampire) Culture: come on, drink that BLOOD! didn't they want your blood?

Love Me, normally: the Lord looked down, said, "hey, you're only mortal"

2econd 2ight 2eer: "my grip on the secrets' slippin' while i'm speakin' in tongues!"

laplace's Angel: "so if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor / neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door"

i/Me/myself: "eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic"

...well, better than the Alternative: "she's gonna be a lot like me, but i don't wanna be at all like me"

outliars And Hyppocrates: "i am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you, the red hot sky"

blackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA: "his ribcage was a hornet's nest, his palpitations set the beat!"

marsha, thankk you for the Dialects: "doctor, what's my prognosis if the studies show that / disease is in the eye of the beholder, tell me "so it goes!""

love, Me Normally: "is there nothing to fear, cuz shit's getting weird!"

memento Mori: "no need to fear cuz when it's Here you won't be alive / try not to think about it!"

Camp Here & There: Campfire Songs:

venetian Blind Man: "string on his finger, a tourniquet ring"

yes, to err is Human: "if you don't hate me, then reanimate me!"

your body, My Temple: "furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will"

when somebody Needs you: "fishing lure moon on a string for you, didn't you say you need space?"

"In Case I Make It,"

tomcat Disposables: "what's the moon made of? meet me there after i'm gone"

becoming The Lastnames: "weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss"

Cicada Days: "here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? / christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all i dreamed of"

euthanasia: "and every, everybody dies / fighting for their lives, just trying to survive"

falling Up: "airplane eclipses over spirals of math – would or could the impact kill me?"

that's Enough, let's get you Home: "but CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home"

um, it's Kind of a Lot: "sorry darling, please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize!"

half-Decade Hangover: "but i can't make amends for things i can't remember"

vampire Reference in a Minor Key: "the seraphim on my shoulder, whispering "please don't turn your head""

you liked this: "Ten Red Flags that a Neurotypical Narcissist is Trauma Dump Gaslighting You into Sex-Negative Self-Abuse Emotional Labor and Internalised Reverse Racism Against Post-Modern Flat Earthers with Facts and Logic (Number Seven Will Destroy Your Family)"

the Main Character: "judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach"

Against the Kitchen Floor: "i'm not a good person, i'm barely a person at all"

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll: "and i hate proving that i'm still human after all"

BFB's Blueberry Pie: " "

Willard!: "so gather 'round pandora's skinner's box, look through the one-way mirror / if you can see in shade's of grey, the colors are much clearer"

White Noise: "it begs the question just to tell you the answer!"

ICIMI outtakes:

misanthrapologist: "I hear your hear beating under the floorboards" and if i did, you deserved it: "that i really don't carе what you think or what you say, either that or I do way too much, oh well whatever, either way"

thank you for listening

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You decide to go back to that creepy house and things don’t really go as planned

Warnings: Mention of missing person, creepy stuff, mention of blood, lady with an axe and I think that’s all? -> 18+ !!

Other: English isn’t my fist language so I apologize in advance for any mistake

-> Masterlist

-> Part four ; Part six

-> Ugly truth (05)

The living room of the temporary house you were sharing with Bucky was filled with the scent of burgers and fries, the television was on but the volume was down. You sat on the edge of the couch, absently picking at your food as your mind inevitably drifted back to your argument with Bucky just last night. He didn’t even spare a glance in your direction after you stormed out of the room, not that you made any effort to talk to him.

Across from you and Bucky, Sam and Dean lounged in their armchairs, their exhaustion evident in the bags under their eyes. As if they didn’t sleep at all, much like you. There was nothing but silence as you ate the last meal of the day, tired after a day of working on the case just to get nothing. No lead, no idea on where this Adam lived since he was the only hope to know more about Cassandra’s whereabouts before she disappeared.

You, along with the rest of this weird team, had gone to the hospital where Cassandra worked at and asked questions to her colleagues that were as useless as a fish out of the water. Apparently this Cassandra was not keen to have social relationships outside her family, you had learnt.

Family that consisted in her stepmother and biological father. Mrs Miller was… well, you had already met her. Her father, on the other hand, was not in the picture apparently. No one knew shit about that poor woman’s private life and the only resource you had left was Adam - and you hadn’t found where he lived yet.

You and Dean, in all of this, hadn’t had that talk yet. About why he didn’t tell Bucky the truth on what you two had seen at Mrs Miller’s house and, most importantly, why he didn’t seem fazed about it. You never told anyone about the kind of experiments they did in the Hydra base you were raised at, not even Fury. You couldn’t, and for a long time you tried to forget what you had seen with your own eyes.

After you were rescued you figured they’d eventually find out the monsters that were created in there, but you never heard anyone talk about it so you kept your mouth shut. They had told you they rescued every child, teenage and adult Hydra kidnapped and that’s what mattered the most to you. Those things were creatures to forget, but you saw one again. And not in your old Hydra facility. No.

You saw it through the window of Mrs Miller’s house, and a small part of you suspected that Cassandra wasn’t fully dead. You were starting to think she had turned into one of those things and that only meant Hydra was nearer than you thought, but Mrs Miller was nowhere near being the person behind this and she was too far gone mentally to give you a clue about who this person could be.

And you came to the conclusion you wanted to find out yourself. Alone.

You decided you wouldn’t tell Bucky, nor Sam or Dean. You suspected that the brothers knew something already and that meant they purposely kept things from you and Bucky, maybe even Fury. Or maybe Fury himself was involved but then again, why wouldn’t he tell you? You were confused, angry and tired of this whole situation.

“Did you find something?” Dean asked with his mouth full of fries to his brother who was giving him a disgusted look. “What? We’re all friends now, no need for manners.” He shrugged.

“If you ever had any.” Sam mumbled under his breath, before turning the laptop to the general direction where both you and Bucky - and also Dean - could see. “This is a local article about Cassandra’s father, Michael Sawyer. It says he was a successful scientist until he disappeared in 1996 when the outcome of his infidelity was left on his doorstep. Cassandra’s biological mother was never found, not even to this day. Mrs Miller kicked him out and took the child in, raising Cassandra as her own.”

“He suddenly came back in town in 2013, the news spread all over the State. Mrs Miller took him back almost immediately, people believe because she was having financial problems raising her then 17 years old daughter, and he has been nothing but a lovely father and husband ever since.” Sam finished, looking at each of you in the room.

“Where is he now?” Bucky asked, taking a sip from the bottle of beer in his hand - the only thing he touched the whole night, since the burger was still perfectly wrapped.

“No idea.” Sam turned the laptop screen in his direction once again, typing something down. “No news from him ever since Cassandra disappeared. Do you think he could be involved?”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “It definitely sounds suspicious.”

“He came back when my facility fell, in 2013.” You informed them. “But that could be a coincidence, I believe the only one that can know something about that family is Adam, since he was her boyfriend. Did you find anything about him?” You asked.

“No.” Sam sighed. “I might do a few calls though, see if a friend of mine can track him down.”

“If you’re still hoping for Cas to answer you’re an idiot, Sam.” Dean grunted, glaring at his brother.

“Who’s Cas?” Bucky inquired, looking between the two of them. “This case is ours. We can’t spill details to friends, that’s the first thing they teach at SHIELD.”

“We know, my brother was just being dumb.” Dean got up from his armchair, putting on his usual green leather jacket. “Let’s go, it’s late and we need rest.” Dean seemed quite dismissive, as he took his brother by the jacked and forced him to get up.

Bucky watched as Dean practically dragged Sam to his feet, a frown made it’s way to his face at the fastness of their departure. Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours for a moment and you shrugged at him, just as puzzled at the brothers’s behavior as he was.

As the door closed behind the two, Bucky turned his his head towards you once again, a furrow forming between his brows. “I think we should do a background check on them. There’s something they’re hiding.”

“You always seem to think people are hiding something and can’t be trusted. We don’t have time for that.” You retorted, your tone full of irritation. “We have a case to solve, James, we can’t worry about those two. Fury says they’re good, so they’re good.” You said. Even if you did agree with him, you also were sure - for some reason - that they weren’t a threat.

His jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t back down. “I’m just saying we should be cautious.” He insisted.

“And I’m saying we have more important things to worry about.” You said.

With that, you rose from the couch to clear the coffee table where the four of you had dinner on, and you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. Your heard him sigh before he left the room and went into the kitchen, only to come back with an empty trash bag and start helping you out.

“Can we talk for a moment? About the other night?” He asked after a while, breaking the silence as you both finished cleaning the mess that mainly those two had left behind.

“I’m not in the mood for talking.” You mumbled, turning off the lights of the kitchen. “I’m going to bed, actually, so have a good night.”

“Emma-”

You walked past him upstairs, locking your bedroom door behind you; you had something to do that night, so you pushed aside the slight, almost invisible guilt you felt for not listening to whatever Bucky had to say. Making your way to the bedside table, your reached for the drawer where you kept your gun - you could never know.

You tucked the gun into your holster and sat on your bed, it was still too early. You could hear Bucky downstairs doing God knows what, and you knew that given his enchanted hearing due to the Super Soldier serum he would hear you if you sneaked out when he was awake.

You waited patiently until the house fell quiet, and you made your way to the window. Sliding it open, making sure not to make any sound, you jumped - thankfully you had some kind of super strength yourself, so when your legs hit the ground you didn’t even flinch.

You looked around you to make sure no one saw you, after all you were still Bucky’s wife for the whole neighborhood as a cover and sneaking out in the middle of the night would look suspicious. You passed in front of Dean’s and Sam’s house, noticing the Impala wasn’t there - weird. So much for being tired and wanting some rest, as they said.

It didn’t take you long to arrive to the Miller’s house, but you had to admit that perhaps you walked slower that you normally would. You did want answers, but you also knew that they would only be a confirmation of what you suspected.

With careful precision, you scanned the perimeter of Mrs Miller’s house, hoping to find a way in without having to break anything mainly to avoid someone hearing. Someone, being that thing that Mrs Miller kept locked in a room. Thankfully you saw that a window of the ground floor was left slightly open, so you didn’t let the opportunity go to waste and you slid in with ease.

Balancing on the edge of the window frame, you put a feet on the ground inside followed by the other - you didn’t miss this place one bit. You had to squint your eyes to adjust your eyes to the sudden darkness, but you managed to see how everything was exactly how you and Dean had left it.

Taking cautious steps to avoid getting hurt due to the glass shattered on the floor, you made your way to the staircase. The silence was odd, in your opinion, the only sounds came from you as the wooden stairs cracked under your every step. Sometimes you wished you could fly, but not everyone had that fortune nowadays.

As you reached the top of the stairs, the smell that hit your nostrils was something you wished you weren’t used to. Rotten meat, that’s what it was, but you kept walking. Thankfully the moonlight was filtering through those nasty windows or else you wouldn’t be able to see your nose in there. You entered carefully in what seemed like a bedroom, a girl’s bedroom.

Cassandra’s pictures were shattered on the ground, the furniture was overturned and most of her belongings were broken on the floor. You walked further into the room and the smell got so bad that you had to cover your nose and mouth with your hand. You expected to find a cadaver inside the wardrobe once you walked over there to open it, but you let out a sigh of relief when all you found were dirty clothes and dead flies.

You scanned the room once again and your eyes fell on the ground, where a stack of paper was scattered all over the carpet. Kneeling down, you picked them up.

You couldn’t read anything as the writing seemed frenetic, and surely the poor light didn’t help. You heard a sudden sound coming from somewhere in the house, and your body reacted before your mind could; you tucked the papers in your pockets with the intention of bringing it back home and try to make light of the situation there.

You decided to keep looking for any clue that would give you some answers, and you made your way in the hallway. You kept walking cautiously and you stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed a door that was different from the others. It was made of iron and it had different locks of different sizes, clearly made to keep something inside.

Bingo.

You knew what was hiding behind that door, you had seen it from the window the other day. Before you could process how you were gonna act next, a soft, feminine voice made your blood run cold.

“Help.” It pleaded. “Please, help. I’m hungry. Open the door. I’m hungry. Please help.”

You blinked a few times, taking a few steps away from that door. You knew that whoever talked was probably Cassandra, but you also knew that she wasn’t her anymore. Those things could imitate voices to lure people. Knowing that, you didn’t even know yourself why you hesitated before leaving, all you knew is that it was probably too late as soon as you heard the sound of jiggling keys in the background accompanied by Mrs Miller’s voice.

With quick reflexes you turned to leave immediately, but the next door you approached was locked and the light was nonexistent since there wasn’t a single window in that corner of the house. You heard Mrs Miller’s steps walking closer, and you thought you were gonna be screwed soon enough…

… except that a pair of hands clamped over your mouth, shutting out any sound you could possibly make. You tried to break free but the stranger was incredibly strong, even stronger than you.

The next thing you knew, you were lifted from the ground momentarily, and then you heard the faint sound of what you associated with a trapdoor closing nearby. As soon as the little lightbulb hanging from the ceiling was turned on, you realized that if it wasn’t for your incredible self control you would have killed somebody.

Bucky Barnes was looking at you with his jaw clenched, but what caught your eyes were those two fucking idiots behind him - and Dean was giggling.

“What the fuck is going on?!” You demanded, as you saw those three fuckers looking at you. Bucky, unlike Sam and Dean, was visibly pissed.

“You’re the one asking that?” Bucky spat, as he was still gripping your wrist. “Leaving the house in the middle of the night like an idiot. What? You thought I wouldn’t hear you?”

“Wait, you came here alone?” Sam asked, looking over where you were sitting.

“Yes, I came here alo- what are we doing here? And how did you get here so quickly?”

“I followed you, you idiot.” Bucky said, his voice sharp with anger as he released his grip on your wrist. “You could have been killed down there. That lady is walking around with an axe, in case you didn’t notice!” He was angry but the sounds below made him keep his voice low - you weren’t out of danger yet.

“A what?!”

“A bloody axe.” Dean clarified, with that smug face still on.

“What are you fucking smiling about?” Bucky’s anger shifted momentarily from you to him, his eyes narrowing in frustration.

“This wasn’t in my bingo card tonight. I mean, what were the odds? First we find you, then you find her - what’s next? Us being torn apart by an hysterical lady?” Dean chuckled, but he was clearly tired.

“I wouldn’t take that out of the equation.” Sam said, leaning back on the wall as you all were sitting on the ground. “I’m too pretty to die again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? You could have been hurt.” Bucky turned to you again, after all you were his main concern. He was on this mission together with you and you were his teammate, not them. So it was understandable that he was worried for your safety, whether he liked you or not.

You glanced over at Dean before you sighed, finally relaxing your muscles after almost being found inside Mrs Miller’s house by Mrs Miller herself while she was walking around with a damn bloody axe. “I haven’t totally been honest with you.”

“No shit.”

“Listen, I wanted to be sure about everything before I told you.” You said exhaling. “Mrs Miller isn’t the only problem around.”

“Don’t you think I hear that fucking thing right now? It’s scratching the door, locked in the room below us.” At Bucky’s words, your eyes fell on the ground. With the silence, you heard it too.

“Then now you know what I was looking for! Stop asking stupid questions!”

“Can you guys fight another time?! Whatever problem you have with one another can wait!” Sam huffed.

“I personally have no problem at all.” You shrugged, gaining a death glare by Bucky. “Listen, I didn’t tell you not because I don’t trust you or anything, formally speaking you’re one of the best agents we have and I have to trust you for this mission.” You spoke sincerely. “But I wanted to be sure and… I know what it is. And I know it’s not going to hurt me.”

Bucky was about to say something when he was cut off. “What do you mean by that?” Dean joined the conversation, now serious, as he looked at you. “That’s a Wendigo - they hunt humans for food, Emma. Of course it’s going to hurt you.”

“What the fuck it’s a Wendigo now?” Bucky felt like smacking repeatedly his head against the wall.

“The Wendigo is a former human that turned into that thing downstairs due to cannibalism. Could live up to hundreds of years eating human meat, but the thing I don’t understand is why Cassandra became one so soon.” Dean explained, scratching his forehead in frustration.

“Which is why we came. She had to eat meat - human meat in order to transform, so someone must have been… you know… giving it to her.” Sam continued.

“Not necessarily.” You shook your head. “We suspect she was taken due to her knowledge about Hydra since probably she got too close to the truth about the patient she was treating, right? Well, you can also turn into a Wendigo through a bite or if its blood it’s mixed to yours and in that case, the transformation requires a few days if it doesn’t kill you first.”

“How do you know that?” Dean frowned.

“Hydra made me watch.” You shrugged.

“What doesn’t make sense is… we suspect she was taken, as you said, due to her finding the truth about what Hydra does to people - but they’re the ones who keep leaving corpses around so they must be the ones that want people to know. Why take her if she did what they wanted?” Sam asked

“Maybe those bodies weren’t meant for her to find” You suggested.

Bucky stayed silent for the whole conversation, processing everything he was hearing. He wasn’t even surprised, it was perfectly in line with the other atrocities Hydra did. “Are you guys sure it’s Cassandra the thing downstairs?” He didn’t question much considering that for the first time ever since he met the two brothers, he was actually believing what they were saying.

“Not really.” You answered. “But it’s a possibility. I don’t see why that woman would keep it locked in her house if that creature didn’t use to be her own daughter.”

“What do you know about the Wendigo?” Bucky narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you. He couldn’t recall you ever mentioning such creature before. “I’ve been with Hydra for seventy years and not once did they mention anything about this. So how come you know?”

You took a moment to look at his face, before finally giving him an answer - and probably one he didn’t expect. “I am one.” You said. You couldn’t hide it any longer if you wanted to move on with the case.

[hancocksbestgirl]

Repairs and Grace

Summary:

Nick Valentine is living in the new world - the one ushered in by his business partner and best friend, Grace, after the events of Fallout 4. With at least some of The Commonwealth's life and death issues solved, the pair turns their attention toward an incredibly important task: cleaning the Agency.

Then, when Nick encounters a small technical issue, it's up to Grace to fix him.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Fallout 4

Word Count: 8k

Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Nick Valentine/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Nick Valentine, Original Fallout 4 Character, Female Sole Survivor (Fallout), Sole Survivor (Fallout)

Additional Tags, Warnings, Excerpt and Link Under the Cut:

Additional Tags/Warnings: Post-Game: Fallout 4, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Apocalypse, Alternate History, Spoilers for Fallout 4, Spoilers, Coworkers to Lovers, Original Character(s), Wireplay, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Grinding, Shameless Smut

_________________

It had been a long time since Nick had known anything even remotely resembling peace.

Real peace, anyway.

Inner peace, sure, it came and went. A person didn’t get to be his age, live two separate lifetimes, and start watching their body decay in real time; without getting a least a little comfortable with their innermost self.

It also helped, that Eddie Winter’s case and Nick's trip to Far Harbor - both of them world-shaking events - were long behind him.

His business partner, Grace, had accompanied him on both gruesome errands, and helped where she could. With her help, and the relative calm that had followed, Nick had had time to turn some of those events over in his mismatched hands; to get used to what happened, and to what that all meant for him. There had been even more peace after that process. 

But peace around him. Now that was new to Nick Valentine. 

The Commonwealth was much different now than it had been when Grace originally showed up. 

The Institute had been nuked - a brave new world if Nick ever could picture one, and the Brotherhood of Steel had lost interest in their fair city as a result. Maxson had taken his ball and gone back south where he belonged, probably to menace someplace else. Minutemen roamed, tipping their cowboy hats and rarely having to fire those heavy laser muskets, the Railroad did… whatever it was they did without the Institute to worry about.

Diamond City went along as it always had. McDonough was dead, and Nick figured that was probably a good thing. You saw a few more Ghoul faces, people seemed less uptight. If anything, the city was even a little emptier, because the ruins around it and the small towns beyond Boston Proper were a little safer.

Even Ellie, sweet little Ellie Perkins, had met a young man with a family farm and turned in her resignation. It was a good new beginning for her, in Nick’s estimation. He sure would miss that girl, though.

As a result of Ellie’s departure, the pink lights at Valentine’s Detective Agency were off. He and his partner were taking a break from cases while they sorted out the office. In truth, Grace had been aching to reorganize his office from the first day she walked in, but she’d had bigger fish to fry both on that day, and in the intervening three years. 

Now that there was some kind of peace though, the feeling worming its way into even the farthest-flung the corners of the map, getting people’s shoulders to ratchet down a notch - Grace was inside the Agency, tearing his office apart.

Putting Nick's shoulders all the way up around his ears, as it happened.

Nick took a final drag of his cigarette, and not for the first time, really marveled at the taste. By rights, he shouldn’t have been able to taste it, or anything at all really. He never could figure out if his taste sensors were meant to serve a purpose, or were just an act of whimsy by some Institute scientist.

He ground the butt out under the heel of his dress shoe, then went inside.

Continue Reading on AO3

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Justice for the bristlemouths

You're so right. Let's give them some justice!

Fish fact #514

Bristlemouths (family Gonostomatidae)!

They're a family of protandrous hermaphrodites, which means they all start out as male and then may become female! Females tend to be larger, though even then it's not really saying much; bristlemouths are only 7.5 cm (3 inches) on average.

[twistedroseytoesy]

I really love your mere mc headcanons that got me thinking.

What about the mere mc being a blu whale. the oceans gently giants if I was correct blu whales don't eat octopus or eal but mostly krill.

How tall would they be in human form though that I don't know.

I got inspired by this art.

OOOOO! yea! Gentle giants are my JAM! thank you for this beautiful idea! I'm going to just share how the octavinelle fellas react to you as this mer, but if you wanted other characters please feel free to send in another ask!

Also, a slight warning that you are referenced to have a large and plush body form, in case it makes any of you upset at that.

Description

Honestly, the picture provided is a beautiful and perfect blue whale mer. With the white underbelly and the dark skin contrast. The small barnacles and other tiny creatures happily living on the side or back of the whale. Would be about 70 ft tall from head to tail. The average person is about the size of a small action figure to you. You mostly feed on small schools of fish and krill. You do have to surface for air every 20 minutes or so.

Your human form is very tall and fairly soft. A slightly more rounded body type but still very healthy. about 8ft. (sorry anyone who prefers cm). You have deep blue hair with small white speckles that resemble barnacles. you also have many similar markings along your face and shoulders, like freckles! your teeth are practically the opposite of the eel twins' shark-like teeth. you have very flat and large teeth. Many stay away from you due to your large height and many small incidents when someone tried to fight you and you just batted them 20-40ft away with one backhanded smack. You're incredibly strong but never use your full strength.

Octavinelle

Azul: Oh no not another tall one... When he noticed how often you bump your head on things hell offer a contract to make it so you can walk comfortably around the school. Aka take some of your impressive height away. You are one of his best customers due to just how much you order and eat at the lounge, kinda a nightmare for ordering stuff but your happy face at getting to eat 20 lbs of small fish is worth it. Tried to hire you as a bouncer since you could easily carry and kick people out if they were causing trouble. Finds your fairly relaxed and kind personality nice. He knew right away that you were a mer, the blue hair and the markings and barnical-like spots were a dead giveaway.

When you invited him to swim with you, he was rather shy about being in his mer form, but he knew you would be nice to him, and probably too big to notice his insecurities due to his weight in that form. Was a bit floored at just how BIG you were, he knew blue whales were big but you were huge! Despite your giant size, you were very careful and kind, gently holding his 10ft long frame in your hands like one would with a baby kitten. He practically melted into your warm embrace and shyly asked if you could go swimming again. You do wonders for his self-confidence. Especially knowing you would defend and protect him from others and his own harsh thoughts. His favorite memory is when you needed to go for air one night and you brought him with you to look at the galaxy sparkling above you both.

Jade: Finds Azul's and Floyd's reactions to your height very amusing. Also can't help but chuckle when you knock your head into the ceiling and have to crawl or awkwardly crouch around the school's halls. Helps you find some other ways around the campus that uses fewer overhangs when possible. He was amazed at how strong yet gentle you were. You treated others with so much love and gentleness that it reminded Jade of how he tends to his mushrooms. Also amazed at how much you eat a day. in your human form, it's about 40-60 lbs of fish/shrimp/krill a day! Asks you many questions and why you don't use your intense strength to make others do as you say. He asks a lot of questions because he likes to hear your gentle yet loud voice. He headcanons that your voice is the voice mountains would have.

Another one who was a bit surprised at your invitation to sim in your true forms. You knew when to invite them since all merfolk need to stretch their fins every once in a while. Can easily keep up with you and swims around your arms. Acts and is the size of a small boa to you. he likes wrapping around your right arm as you swim around. Enjoys the speed you travel as he relaxes against your soft blubber. Does tickle you every once in a while by lightly knawing on said blubber. it doesn't hurt you so you're fine with it. Might fling him away if you get too ticklish though. He would just chuckle and tease you about being ticklish. Always follows you to the surface when you need to breath.

Floyd: Dang it! now he's not even the tallest in the Octavinelle dorm anymore! Saw how large you were and the blue of your hair and called you "Bluey" "Whaley" or just "blue whale", depending on his mood. Loves how you allow him to squeeze you, kinda awkward as he squeezes as hard as he can around your middle since his head only reaches your chest level. Loves to bury himself into your plush form. Also sometimes will just latch onto your back like a crazy backpack. You just chuckle and continue until he gets bored. Whenever he's in a bad mood you always find a way to cheer him up. Tried to challenge you to an eating contest when he saw how much you ate each day. He lost and got all grouchy and whiney cause now his tummy hurt.

Was SO excited when you invited him to go swimming in your merforms. Zoomed around your whole form cause he was that excited. Likes to wrap around your left arm and stick his tongue out and say in the current as you swim at high speeds. Asked you to launch him with your tail out of the water and screamed with joy as he went. Demanded to do it again a bunch more times, very much like an excited kid. If he's not around your arm, he's like a little scarf/choker. Bites you so often, mostly to just get your attention since you don't get hurt by his impressive chompers. He says you don't taste very good. But loves the feeling of biting into your blubber, and he likes your loud and gentle laughter as you say that tickles. Also has taken a nap on your back when you were both near the surface.

All three love to be around you and your calming aura. Azul likes to be held by you or nestled in your hair or on your back when you go swimming. Jade and Floyd enjoy being around your arms or swimming beside you. All in all, they love you and how you treat them all so well and bring out a much softer side of themselves they didn't even know was there.

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Flatheaded Mayfly - Stenacron sp.

If the many insect species within the order Ephemeroptera were easier to identify simply by looking at pictures, I'd have many species to share here from my trips to Muskoka. Given their lifecycle, water is essential to the development of Mayflies; they inhabit water as hungry nymphs, and skim over the lakes as fleeting sub-adults and adults in search of mates. This genuinely makes cottage country a perfect location to find Mayflies and observe them. Maybe even catch a few if possible... if only to use as fish bait. In any case, when they're not flying out over the lakes, they're being drawn to cottage lights in the dead of night, allowing for some much needed close-ups of their features. What strikes me in particular about this individual is its head and eyes: the head is relatively flat, so much so that the compound eyes practically extend out of the head (akin to flattened protrusions), rather than be fully enclosed onto the head. If this sounds somewhat jumbled, I apologize. A closer look at Picture 4's head should hopefully clarify but I mean. Given these features, my photographs and a few comparisons made to other similar finds within the area, I'm of the opinion that today's find belongs to the family Heptageniidae (Flatheaded Mayflies).

This individual's features are similar to that of Mayflies sorted into the Stenacron genus, so if I were to offer up an identification, I would lean towards Stenacron interpunctatum, but this is just speculation on my part. According to Bugguide, it seems that an identification is nearly impossible unless you can get an accurate look at the Mayfly's mouthparts. However, it may interest you to know that the mandible assessment for identification only applies to the Mayfly Naiads (nymphs). Adult Mayflies meanwhile have vestigial mouthparts, and as a result, they cannot feed; all their energy is spent finding a mate near or over the water. While they do not eat, they can still intake liquids during their imago (adult) stage. Knowing this, identification has become a much greater endeavor than expected, but perhaps a revisit of this specimen using macrophotography would shed some light. Other Stenacron (and similar genera) species must be ruled out, so this cottage insect find will be labelled as "Unidentified" for now. If more conclusive information is found, this post will be updated as soon as possible with the identity of this delicate insect.

Pictures were taken on May 25, 2024 in Muskoka with a Google Pixel 4. Although Mayflies can be a splendid find over lakes as spring gives way to summer, other strange insects also emerge from the water as adults. Perhaps you may see Stoneflies, Alderflies or Fishflies?

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 18/34 - ashes

[Read on AO3]

“I love what you've done with the place,” a voice speaks as soon as the apartment door closes behind her. She looks up at the darkened shadow in the corner, only partially illuminated by the dim light of Mulder's fish tank. His face lights up with an orange flash as he flicks his lighter on, bringing the flame to the tip of his cigarette. It reflects off the hard edges of his face, giving him the monstrous appearance of a gargoyle for the briefest of moments before fading into black once more.

“What do you want?” Scully asks, no patience for beating around the bush with this man. At least he appears to be incapable of harming anyone. The man looks like he already has one foot in the grave, and she'd love to give him that last little push he needs.

“I want you to stop looking,” he answers simply.

“You've wanted that since 1973, when you ordered an end to the search for Mulder's sister,” she says, unmoved. “Your initials are on the document, I've seen it.”

If he’s surprised that she’s figured that much out on her own, he doesn’t show it. “Yes, I signed that order because I knew then what I know now: No one's going to find her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe she's dead.” The words deal a crushing blow, as does the cold, unfeeling way he speaks them. “No reason to believe otherwise,” he says offhandedly, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette.

“You're a liar,” Scully says softly, her hatred of the man simmering just below the surface. “If you knew that she was dead, why didn't you say something earlier? Why now?”

“There was so much to protect before,” he says with a shrug. “It's all gone now.” The Syndicate, reduced to ashes. Their leader obviously barely hanging on by a thread.

“So you just let Mulder believe that she was alive for all these years?” she asks, furious, if that’s the case. It makes her sick, the way he toys with Mulder like a puppet. 

“Out of kindness, Agent Scully,” he says. “Allow him his ignorance. It's what gives him hope.”

Scully rears back in disgust. How dare he talk about hope? How could he dangle the false promise of everything Mulder has ever wanted in front of him, and ask her to do the same?

Never.

“That isn't what gives him hope,” she says, glaring at the very embodiment of evil standing in her living room.

He gives a low chuckle, its sound chilling. 

“No, I suppose you're right. He has much better things to hope for now, doesn't he?” The insinuation that he knows what they’re up to terrifies her, but she won’t let it show. “I suppose I ought to thank you for that, Agent Scully,” he continues. “I never could have predicted how sending you to him would turn out, but you're good for him. Despite what you may think, it delights me to see my son so happy. And in the end, I succeeded in my purpose of sending him to you after all.”

“Which was what?” she spits.

“To distract him,” he says calmly. “To get him to quit.”

Well, tough luck, you black-lunged creep. “It didn't work out that way.”

“No, it didn't,” he concedes with a nod. “In fact, he became even more focused with you in the picture. A miscalculation, on my part. But I don't see how that's worth dwelling on now. Everything I built is gone.”

“I want you to leave us alone,” Scully demands. She wants nothing more than to get as far away from this man as possible, but she holds her ground. She won’t give him the satisfaction of spooking her.

“I will, so long as the two of you stay away from my business,” he says, taking another puff of his cigarette. “I trust that won’t be a problem?”

“You don’t know us at all, do you?”

He chuckles again. “Unfortunately, I do.” The shadows on his face shift as he takes a step in her direction. “In any case, I offer my heartfelt congratulations on your future together.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” she says coldly, not even giving him an inch as he moves past her to the doorway.

He drops his cigarette onto the hardwood floor and steps on it to put it out. Its stench burns at her nostrils, and she isn’t sure even her strongest cleaning chemicals will be enough to remove it. “Your snark is noted, Agent Scully,” he says with a sickening half-smile and a nod. 

He opens the door and steps into the hall, then looks back at her one final time.

“Best of luck in your endeavors,” he says.

By the time she goes to shut the door behind him, he’s gone.

-.-.-

Mulder’s ramblings about his sister are nearly incoherent the next time she speaks to him. That, combined with her own experiences since returning to Washington, means she’s booking another ticket back out to California, a move that will certainly have the Bureau accounting people staring her down for the next month or so.

But it proves to be the right decision, because Mulder has found something. The most significant something that’s come his way since all this began.

She doesn’t know what it means.

She’s with him when he finds Samantha’s diary. Drawn there by some otherworldly force, or so he says. She can’t argue with the results, though. Hidden in this house, on an abandoned military base, is the diary of a fourteen year old Samantha Mulder.

Her heart aches for the girl, and for her big brother who drinks in every word scrawled on the page in blue ink.

The diary leads them to a police report. Which leads them to a hospital. Which leads them to the home of a retired nurse.

Which leads to the truth.

Finally.

The nurse tells a tale of a nameless girl, strange injuries, the fear in her eyes. Mysterious men who came looking for her in a cloud of cigarette smoke, and how she vanished from a locked room before they could get to her.

It almost raises more questions than answers, but Scully hopes it’s enough. Enough to satisfy her dearest friend, so that he can truly begin to live.

He disappears off on his own in the short time she’s away, talking to the nurse on her doorstep of her home. But she feels something too, like he had when they first arrived here.

This is where it ends. This is where the rest of their life together truly begins.

-.-.-

He’s not sure what it is exactly that pulls him further into the woods. But, the second he catches sight of the little boy again, translucent in the moonlight, he knows with a sinking feeling what he will find.

It’s overwhelming.

With each step he takes, he becomes more and more certain. Like the puzzle pieces are all sliding into place, forming the picture of their own accord. The lack of effort required by him, after all this time, leaves him feeling hollow and empty.

He's letting go. He has no choice but to do so now, faced with the facts before him. The place inside him where the mystery of his lost sister festered for so long has become a gaping hole, and he feels lost without it already. Uncertain where to go next, now that his guiding force is gone.

His first glimpse of her stills him, and even though deep down, he'd expected to find her, the actuality of it shakes him. It feels both unbelievable and startlingly real at the same time, and he doesn't know what to do. Does he cry? Close his eyes and reject the reality in front of him? Should he leave, satisfied with this conclusion to his life's mission despite it being not what he expected or hoped for?

In the end, he does none of those things. Her name drips from his lips, an answer to a question that has haunted him for decades. Simple, but unimaginably profound.

“Samantha...”

His feet carry him toward her in a trance. Her movement is not so restrained. Her beaming smile practically lights up the forest as she dashes to him, her dark waves bouncing over her shoulders.

She's taller than he's ever seen her, and yet, his own height makes her smaller by comparison. He enfolds her in his arms, not expecting much of anything, but he feels her.

There's no breath in her lungs, but she has a solid form. She's surprisingly warm, not like a living body would be, but—he supposes—like light. Electricity buzzes under the surface when her hand lands on his cheek, and though she's different, at heart she's the same.

He can practically hear her voice in his head as she grins happily up at him, her brother.

“Fox!” her eyes say, his name conveyed in the shine of recognition he sees there.

He swallows back the lump in his throat and crouches to his knees, inspecting the changes on her face with the gentle brush of his fingers.

This is what she'd looked like in the end. While he was off in England, beginning his studies at Oxford, this girl was still here, suffering at the hands of her captors, unable to recall anything more than his face.

He'd never forgotten her. Sometimes he'd hoped he might find her, to see her grown up and happy, freed from whoever it was that had abducted her.

Other times, he'd been certain he would never see her again. He convinced himself it would be a mercy if she'd been dead all this time.

Now, he supposes both were right. She was gone, granted the mercy of a peaceful exit from this life by the mysterious inner workings of the universe. But also…

He gets to see her. For what will be the last time, he knows.

And she is happy, he can tell. At peace. Really, that's all he can ask for.

“There's so much I wish I could tell you,” he says, blinking through tear filled eyes to keep her in his vision. 

He thinks of all that has happened to him since she disappeared. In some ways, he’s the same person he was all those years ago. In other ways, he is completely changed. He wants her to know him as he is. To know who her big brother has become.

“I'm going to be a father.”

The words leave his mouth unrestrained, but she seems to understand his need to say them. She smiles softly, tilting her head in what could either be a teasing or truly genuine response.

“I know,” he says with a chuckle. “You think I'll be any good?”

Her answer comes in the featherlight touch of her hand against his, and it feels sincere. He sees flashes of her memories of them together, playing games, walking together to her piano lessons after school, him setting out a TV dinner for her on the nights neither of their parents were home to feed them… He knows what she's trying to say, and it warms his heart, even if he can't hear her reassurance with his own ears.

Her fingers brush over the back of his hand, and he follows their path with his eyes until she lands on his bare ring finger. When he looks up at her, he finds an inquisitive look on her face that almost makes him laugh.

It's strange, to be with his baby sister as an adult. Marriage was the furthest thing from his mind when he'd last seen her. Back then, his only thought was what could happen on the next episode of Star Trek or whether he could convince his father to let him go to summer camp on the mainland that summer. But now, he's all grown up, and in a way, so is she.

“Yeah,” he says, responding to her unspoken question. Smiling quietly to himself, he pulls out the chain that holds his ring from beneath his shirt and dangles it out in front of her. Her eyes instantly light up, and she brings her forefinger up to his chest to touch the cool metal. Gently, like it might shock her.

“Dana,” he says boldly. He's not sure why, but he feels the need to tell her everything. She’s a ghost, or something very like it. The things of this world should no longer concern her. But she should know the name of her sister-in-law. That, at least, he can tell her. “Her name is Dana.”

Samantha looks happy. Relieved, even, which he thinks is strange. If anything, he's the one who should feel relieved, having found her after so long. But maybe she has cause for it, too. Maybe she's spent these years worried about him, just as he has worried for her.

Her small hand splays on his upper chest in a purposeful motion, near his collar bone on the left. He looks down at her hand and then back at her, trying to discern what question she may be asking now.

The scar there tingles, and for the first time, he feels a little guilty that he hasn't taken a little better care of himself. Standing in front of her now, he knows that's not what she would have wanted.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “She's the one who shot me. But I’m okay now.”

The corners of Samantha’s lips turn up in a small smile, but she shakes her head. No, that's not what she was wondering.

His brows furrow, and he's about to tell her that he doesn't understand when her fingers start to tap rhythmically against his chest.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

The question mark at the end of the sentence is written on her face, and he finally makes the connection.

‘Do you love her?’ she's asking.

He grabs her hand, cupping it between his own much larger ones, and stares deep into her eyes. He won't lie, not to her.

“More than anything.”

Samantha gives a satisfied nod, a content smile on her face. He knows they don't have much time left, but there's still so much more he wishes he could say.

“I'm sorry I couldn't protect you,” he speaks, finally releasing the apology he's had stored up for over twenty years. “I'm sorry I couldn't save you.”

‘It's okay. I'm okay, now,’ her peaceful expression says. He feels her forgiveness as if it had been spoken aloud, and it's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. 

‘You’ll be okay, too?’ she asks him next, the words voiced in the expectant tilt of her head.

He glances heavenward, willing the tears to subside for a few more minutes so he can get through this, but manages to smile and nod in response.

“Yeah. I think I'll be okay.”

-.-.-

She's just about to go looking for him when she sees his figure wandering back toward them. What he'd been doing in the woods, she can't begin to guess, but as he approaches, she levels him with a worried gaze.

His necklace is visible, resting atop his clothes instead of under them for once. It glints in the moonlight, and Scully briefly worries that someone will see, but there is no one here who would care.

“Mulder?” she asks. It takes all that is in her to resist the urge to touch him, to check him for physical injuries or other external signs of damage. He seems fine, but it's what goes on inside his head that really concerns her.

“It's over,” he answers in a calm voice. 

His response doesn't do much to reassure her. Calm on the outside certainly doesn't mean calm on the inside, as she well knows, and she still worries he'll shut her out.

He should know by now that his search for the truth is as much hers as it is his.

“Are you okay?” she asks, prodding deeper in hopes he won't shut down. 

He smiles at that, something about her words amusing him, and that offers her a little relief. The feeling only grows stronger as he pulls her into his arms, resting his head atop hers and swaying slightly on his feet.

“I'm okay,” he assures her, in a quiet voice meant only for her. “I'm free.” 

She feels his arms tighten around her, and his voice drops even further, hardly more than a breath into the still night air when he speaks again, insistent.

“We're free.”

-.-.-

She's laying half asleep on top of the scratchy motel room quilt when his voice penetrates the comfortable silence. Despite what she'd told Skinner, she's not keen on letting him out of her sight. Not after what he'd gone through. He lays beside her, curled up under the covers and facing the wall, only the hum of the clunky air conditioner perched in the window to fill the quiet.

“I told her about you,” he reveals.

She stills. He'd mentioned seeing Samantha in the forest, of course. Talked about ethereal children playing in the clearing, the echoing sounds of their laughter and squeals of delight the only sounds he could hear.

Whether she believes him or not, she's relieved that it brought him closure.

The idea that they'd talked about her, however, has her hoping and praying that it’s true. She wishes she could have been there with him. Could have seen her with her own eyes, this girl who has so completely shaped both Mulder's life and hers.

“What did you say?” she asks calmly, staring fixedly up at the ceiling. Her curiosity in this matter makes her feel vulnerable, and the ensuing silence does nothing to ease her nerves.

With the rustle of sheets, though, he turns over, his knees bumping against her legs under the covers. She fights the compulsion to look at him, knowing that if she did, she’d be faced with the full intensity of the stare she feels prickling the side of her face.

He inches closer, the movements jostling the springy mattress, and he maneuvers his head until it's practically on her pillow. She feels his breath on her neck, the spiky ends of his hair brushing against her cheek, commanding the totality of her attention.

“Someday I'll tell you, Scully,” he whispers, curling deeper into the bed. His forehead nuzzles against her shoulder and her eyes fall shut, lost entirely to the sensation of him beside her. “I promise.”

~~~

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