#mind the content ratings

[xbomboi]

hello Ever After High tumblr community, i humbly request your attention briefly.

so basically, i have a lot of Ever After High ideas clogging my head, ranging from misc. concepts, to plans for entire storylines/arcs. (this includes world building regarding both what we’ve already seen and what we haven’t yet seen, character arcs and development, fairytales and fairytale characters we have yet to actually meet onscreen, etc.)

i doubt anyone cares that much, but i have this vision for how the rest of the Ever After High story (in the tv continuity) would go. i have tentative plans to write this continuation using the 4 episode per story arc format that eah later switched to, while staying in line with the tone and writing style of the specials/webisodes so that it feels like it could naturally work as an official, canon continuation of the series, all while still telling a compelling narrative.

currently i have a rough outline for the first four-episode story arc that i’ve come up with (though i still have a few things i wanna workshop with it) written out. (side note: i typically write the finished draft of stuff in screenplay format, so the rough outline is written with eventually being transferred into that format in mind.)

i just wanted to post this to see if there’s any actual, palpable interest in this at all. and because my friends think i’m insane for keeping my work to myself & the select few people i’ve chosen to show it to as opposed to publicly sharing it because they at least think it’s good enough to be shown off.

so, yeah, just putting this out there incase there are people who wanna know more. i’d be willing to share the aforementioned rough outline i’ve written.

tldr; i want to write—and finish—the story of Ever After High.

[static-quo]

Okay listen,,, I’m just saying if Vox had a full demon form Val would ABSOLUTELY be all over that shit- 😏😏😏🩵

🔞🔞🔞 Below links are N S F W, absolutely no minors 🔞🔞🔞

Full artwork is available Here on Twitter and Here on Stash ôwô

[crow-quills]

Nightmare's Grace

Misuta (Ghost in the Machine)/Reader

Summary: Nightmares have become a familiarity to you, though that doesn't mean they're any easier to deal with. Misuta finds his own way to distract you from your frayed nerves late one night.

Trigger Warning(s): None

Rating: T, SFW

Word Count: 1,476

Notes: Ghost in the Machine and Misuta both belong to @venomous-qwille. Some may already be familiar with this piece if you're in the discord server.

You'd lost track of the time long ago from when you first checked it after being wrenched from the tangled grasp of a nightmare. The clock's numbers that had once seared itself into your mind when you first checked your phone was nothing more than a bleary remnant chased away by the steady throbbing behind your temples.

You couldn't say for sure just what drove you from your slumber, only having a vague recollection of a nightmare that once dug its icy claws into your mind. A fading memory turning to nothing more than a ghost, faint and wisping out of your grasp like smoke whenever you try to grab it.

Chasing it is a lost cause at this point though it doesn't negate the dread that has lodged itself in your gut like lead - heavy and unsettling.

Hunched over the kitchen table you try to dislodge the lingering, unnerving feeling within your body from something it can't even remember. At the very least the dim lighting of the kitchen doesn't aggravate the pain blooming within your head, though it doesn't soothe it much either. Eyes screwed shut, you raise a hand to card through your hair with a steadying breath, contemplating whether you should call it a night or bid any further rest goodbye and get to work.

"What are you doing up, Hoshiko?" Misuta's soft voice draws you out of your deliberation. The moon themed animatronic lingering within the kitchen doorway with the fur of his hood shadowing his face. Startling magenta eyes staring at you from beneath it, softened with a mix of confusion and concern.

His eyes flick over your form for a minute, hunched at the table and abandoned drink beside you. Biting your cheek for a moment, you break the gaze you shared with the bot as you shift uncomfortably. "Couldn't sleep," a weak excuse even to your ears as you try to ignore the way Misuta's examination sends a prickle down your spine.

The quiet thud of heavy booted feet sound out and grow closer as he steps further into the kitchen to come up behind you. A hand finds the center of your upper back, resting against it in a barely there touch, as if worried you'd startle from anything heavier. Gingerly, after a brief moment you can feel his thumb move, rubbing circles into clothed flesh. He's silent now, but you're well aware he's watching you carefully.

A broad palm presses further into your back a coolness seeps through the fabric of your shirt and serves as a balm on your frayed nerves more than you'd care to admit. "Restlessness or bad dreams?" Concern bleeds into his tone and stands out amongst the softness of his voice as he finally shatters the temporary lull.

Resisting the urge to cringe at how close to the mark he was you simply shrug though the motion isn't enough to dislodge his hand.

"It's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine." You don't want to look back at him, to see whatever expression may have etched itself upon his face. Staring into your forgotten tea, you opt to study the liquid instead as your tongue presses against the back of your teeth. His thumb stutters in its measured movements, telling you enough about what he thinks of your attempt to dance around the subject of whatever ails you.

For a heartbeat of a moment, worry bites at your mind that he'll probe further on the subject. Instead the questioning never comes as he simply slides his hand up to the right to clasp your shoulder. A tender squeeze follows the gesture as he mumbles something that you don't quite catch, but can only assume it's meant to be comforting.

At least, you hope it is.

Not knowing what to do with your hands you grab your abandoned cup, fingers wrapping around it tighter than you intended. Drawing it to your lips you try not to grimace as the liquid graces your tongue, the warmth having fled from it long ago.

"I'm alright, I promise," your own reassurance sounds almost fake, even to you, as the cup is lowered back onto the table with a solid sounding clink.

A noise resonates within the voice box of your companion, one you can't quite place the emotions behind, as his hand suddenly draws away. A phantom trail is left behind as his fingers linger longer than needed when he pulls away. Rolling back your shoulders, you sit up straighter now trying to compose yourself from the half curled position you once were in.

You intend to dismiss yourself, to evade and hide from any further questioning on just what drew you down here in the middle of the night. However, the sight of a familiar hand held out in offering, filling your peripheral vision, catches you off guard and gives you pause.

Misuta's palm held out and upturned in an offer you're unsure the intention of. Glancing up at his face to read his expression, you see only a soft look of encouragement which is enough to spur you into action.

Placing your hand in his - almost dwarfed in his hold - his fingers curl to fully clutch yours with a surprising amount of delicacy behind the action. Gently, he guides you up to stand without a hint of hesitation in his movement as his free hand moves to your hip, grasping it lightly. The closeness of his body combined with the strangely intimate feel of his touch baits a heat to rise to your face and causes your gaze to drop away from him.

"Look at me, Hoshiko," imploring and soft, the hand he once clutched your own with slips free in favor of rising up. A knuckle comes to lightly tap the bottom of your chin in an attempt to draw your attention once more. The draw of him and the action is hard to ignore. Without thinking you find yourself lifting your head to meet magenta eyes softening at the bone deep tiredness you know must show on your face.

Content, his hand moves to cup your cheek as the pad of his thumb swipes beneath your eye. Gentle as it tugs at the skin, mindful of his claws, tracing the darkness underlining it as worry pinches the corners of his mouth. "You're not getting enough rest."

The worry laced within his tone sparks a defensiveness within you that's spitting like an irate cat. Protest bubbles up in your throat, though its quickly smothered as the hand at your face shifts to swipe a stray hair out of the way. Claws gently grazing against your heated skin as he follows the shape of your face to the curve of your ear.

Mapping out a path as cool digits trail down along your neck, faint and light as he grazes over your pulse, skimming over your shoulder and down your arm. Tentatively, his fingers press into your palm as they slide down to interlock your fingers. Palm against palm, he draws your arm up to bend at the elbow - held out to the side.

The hand at your hip moves, sliding along to curl at your back, resting against the small of it in a brace. His hold, sturdy and pulling you tighter against his form, but with enough give to allow you the freedom to slip out of it. "It's just us, you're safe with me," his voice low and warm, the consolation accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your entwined hands.

He takes a moment to scan over you in search of something - what exactly you're not sure of - but he seems to find it quickly. Tucked against him Misuta steps back with you in tow, not seeming to mind the brief stumble you experience with the sudden movement. Jacket sleeves swaying with the motion, he moves slowly as he guides the two of you back a few steps before moving forward again.

A dance, you come to realize as a hum rumbles from his voice box, a slow tune you can't quite place. Slow steps bringing you around into a circle following his voice as he keeps you steady.

It's a distraction, you know it is.

His own attempt at pulling your mind away from whatever troubles you no matter how unknown it is to him, however it's one you'll indulge in for now. Falling into the rhythmic pattern he sets is easy to do with little worry as you tuck your head against his chest. The melodic hum of his voice box echoing against your ear in a mingled noise of the quiet ticks and clicks of the mechanics hidden within his chassis.

An idle thought of comparing it to a lullaby flicks through your head as he takes you into another turn.

[orange-content-rater]

rate this image

I uhh sorta dont want to rate this image buddy they seem to be filled with rage lots of rage

But your wish is my command!! :)

Orange is the focus!!

Mostly orange/yellow!!

Where did my mouth go

7/10

[nonokoko13]

If the devs don't take advantage of this chance and release New Year Malleus SSR at the end of 2024, I will blacklist them alongside with the senate.

[hendersonalicequeen]

Wanna see me shake it?

To see more of this ask of cashapp $$ paypal$$😍😘 and follow

18+ friends only matured minds.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Even though I don't post on FFN anymore, I sometimes still get on to look at my stats because its always interesting to me to see which fics are somehow still being found and read

But stats have been down since the middle of September.

(Somehow I don't think they're in any rush to fix that....)

[suemileyloveposting]

by GoshdarnRabbit

A mad dash for freedom lets the dummies escape, an unseen traitor in tow. But, free from the immediate dangers of the Death Game, their travels through the wilderness begin feeling almost as bleak.

Ongoing fic that rotates through the perspectives of the entire dummy group in an AU where they escape the clutches of Asunaro after their first trials.

Words: 7590, Chapters: 6/?, Language: English

Fandoms: キミガシネ | Kimi ga Shine | Your Turn To Die (Visual Novel)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death            

Categories: Gen   

Characters:  Kurumada Naomichi, Mishuku Hinako, Hayasaka Shunsuke, Tsurugi Mai, Kageyama Ranmaru, Kinashi Anzu             

Additional Tags: Angst, Horror, Dummies escape Death Game early AU, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Animal Death, Genderfluid Anzu, Transmasculine Ranmaru, POV Alternating, Like all of them - it's six rotating POVs, Kimi ga Shine | Your Turn To Die Chapter 3 Part 1-B Spoilers            

[reverie-starlight]

I think it's very very very very unfair for your grade in a class to be based on 3 tests only AND to have all three tests weigh the same.

the weight of the midterms should not be equal to the weight of the final exam ESPECIALLY when you don't give us opportunities to raise our grades or actually study the material properly outside of the slides and one million pages of reading you assign. istg I'm gonna drop this class!!!!!

[thelioncourts]

+

[starsarefire824]

I see the sexual abuse and patient/doctor tag on your newest fic. Will there be graphic rape or sexual assault in this? Or will it be implied? I want to read, but I can't handle graphic scenes of that nature. I'd rather know beforehand if you don't mind. I was going to assume so, but I didn't know if the sexual content would be between the doctor and patient or if it'd be between Mike and Will.

Hey anon. Thanks for checking in!

The sexual abuse in this story will be heavily implied. It is not something that will be between patient/doctor, and I will not be having any graphic descriptions of it.

There will however be one scene in particular that will be violent/assault with sexual undertones. But the descriptions of that will stay within a mature rating. I will also, at the end of each chapter that requires it, be including detailed trigger warnings specifically for the events in that chapter. So if you'd like--you can read the warnings ahead of time and skip over any chapters that make you uncomfortable if you'd still like to read. You can always send me a comment or an ask on here and I can fill you in on the general plot points of that chapter.

I want everyone to enjoy the story and stay within their own comfort level which is why I've included a lot of the tags on this story and have the warnings at the bottom.

If you'd like---There is an example of physical violence I've written in a rated M story here (outsiders perspective) and here (paragraph 4 and 5). You can find a description of a consensual love scene I've written within the parameters of an M rating here and here.

I really hope this helps! If you have any other questions or need the specifics of the scene just dm me! I'm more than happy to help.

[le-amewzing]

the end of the world (and no one’s fine)

Decided to go way out of my comfort zone just for the holiday, so have some Parknight with a twist! XD *Note: This is a zombie apocalypse AU, so please check the closing A/N for a full list of trigger warnings.

Fic: "the end of the world (and no one's fine)" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Jess Knight/Alden Parker, with Ronnie Tyler, Dale Sawyer, Sid (from Cyber XD), Tony Francis, & Curtis Hubley in supporting roles; cameos from Delilah Fielding–McGee & Victoria Palmer, as well as minor bkgd OCs

Rating: M

Words: ~10,330

Additional info: romance, family, angst, hurt/comfort, horror, supernatural, AU, 3rd person POV

Summary: The world's fallen apart in just a few months, loved ones are gone or scattered, but…but they've still got each other to depend on.

      The world outside these orange walls was not supposed to look like this, Knight thought when she got up from her desk in the bullpen to go have a peek between the shutters across the way.

      Outside NCIS, the sky was a sickly, greenish–gray. Clouds of smog permanently hovered close these days, just below the skyline, despite the efforts of those who remained at the necessary facilities trying to clean up the air across the country. Worse still, what was above was much the same below, and she didn't need a glimpse to know the parking lot here was as grimy as ever, strewn with debris and refuse and who knew what else, even though few cars and no people were present. Below that, underground, the water had become yet another situation.

      "Antsy?" Parker asked, drawing up on her left side at the window.

      Knight grinned without turning his way, but she knew it was a tight expression. There was no use in lying to him. "No. Yes? Maybe," she settled on. She glanced at him, copper eyes briefly meeting hazel. "Any word?"

      He shrugged. "I thought we were luckier, being here at headquarters, since it has a lot of what we need… But Cyber guys are Cyber guys. I don't know how Piper and Sid ever put up with Hubley's whining. Sid already kicked Hubley out, so Francis is helping him work on the filtration system."

      "Probably for the best. The filtration system is half tech, half mech. No offense to Hubley, but I'd rather Francis follow Sid's orders on which items need muscling into proper place." This time, when she smiled, it felt more genuine.

      Parker, too, smiled a little. Then he resumed staring out the window with Knight. "So, any word?" he asked.

      Knight scrunched her nose up briefly, hearing her own words and at how he asked right now, especially since he knew the likelihood of the answer. "…no. Ronnie and Sawyer are due back from patrol soon, but the satphone's been quiet." She paused. "Alden. It's been days since we last heard from Torres."

      He ran a hand through his hair, which had more white threaded through it these last few months, and cupped the back of his neck. Then he sighed and pursed his lips. "Jess—"

      "I know what you're going to say. I know," she insisted, half turning towards him, her attention no longer on how wrong things looked outside the window. "I know that he's busy. I know that he and Bishop are exceptional tools in the hands of that—Odette woman," Knight said, almost as if Odette Malone's name were a curse any time someone at NCIS mentioned her, "and that their coordination between here and other NCIS agencies, coordinating on the ground…it's what they do best."

      Parker raised his eyebrows.

      "And it takes time."

      He brushed back a lock of hair from her face and shoulder and let his hand trail down her arm until their fingers were linked together. Parker gave her fingers a squeeze.

      Knight squeezed back and took half a step forward, hiding her face in his chest. "But it's been days, Alden," she repeated. "And we can't lose Nick the way we lost Tim."

      At that, Parker's other hand came up to rest on her back, and he held her gently, without uttering a single word and yet saying everything on his mind in that moment.

      Ronnie and Sawyer came back inside a few minutes late—not yet late enough that Knight and Parker were suiting up to go fetch them, but late enough that all pairs of eyes in the bullpen turned when the partners did appear.

      "It's nothing, I promise," Ronnie swore up and down, shuffling ahead of Sawyer as she removed her rifle and passed it to the younger agent.

      "Uh, correction: It is something," Sawyer said with a mild glare at his boss' back. He checked the ammunition and safeties on the guns before standing them along the wall with other weapons by the elevator, ever at the ready.

      "Ronnie," Knight began, getting up to join the other woman on the other side of her desk.

      "She sprained her ankle out there," Sawyer tattled.

      There was a collective sigh of relief from their fellow survivors, although Knight could've sworn she heard Ronnie flare her nostrils when she glared at Sawyer over her shoulder for blabbing.

      Parker stood up straight from where he'd been leaning against the edge of Knight's desk. He hooked a finger at Ronnie, gesturing for her to follow him. "C'mon, Ronnie. First aid, even for a sprain."

      But Ronnie vigorously shook her head, sending her curls flying. "No. I don't need it."

      Parker exhaled a calming breath. "Ronnie—"

      "I am not going down there!"

      Her sharp tone pierced the quiet of the bullpen. Sid and Hubley, sitting on the floor already, ducked their eyes at her outburst. Sawyer continued to frown at his boss' back, and Francis glanced between Knight and Parker, the two senior-most agents present.

      Ronnie shook, slightly, in the middle of what had once been the squad room, though. With her fists clenched at her sides, dark knuckles blanching, she shook her head again and met Parker's stare head on. But, where she'd glared at Parker before, her anger abandoned her now. Those were the wide eyes of a frightened woman. Knight knew; she'd seen them countless times during her tenure with REACT.

      "Ronnie, it's the best place to keep the medical supplies," Parker reminded her. "And the place is clear. It's been that way since Zero Day."

      She flinched at his casual mention of the start of…well, Armageddon, Knight supposed, but Ronnie swallowed and found her voice. "I don't care, Parker. You won't get me down in Autopsy."

      Parker grimaced. The good humor left his posture, given the squaring of his shoulders and that tautness of his jawline, even though the latter was hidden by his whiskers to a less trained eye.

      That was why Knight stepped between them and offered Ronnie her chair. "Ronnie, just have a seat. I don't see why we can't pop down for an ice pack and wrap," she aimed at Parker, "and it'll be faster with the two of us."

      The tension in his jaw relaxed, and Parker conceded with a subtle nod.

      But Ronnie furrowed her brow. "Honestly, Knight, Sawyer's just being a worrywart. I simply tripped over that stupid tree root that broke up the foot path. You know the one over on the left side of the building. If I can get my foot up for an hour or two, I'll be fine."

      Knight smiled and shoved her notebooks and old paperwork—what use was there for case files when cases would no longer be closed?—onto the floor to clear room for Ronnie's foot. She even patted the spot for good measure. "Then get it up already." She glanced behind her. "Curtis, toss Ronnie two protein bars and go fill her a bottle, would you?"

      Ronnie's eyes went wide again as Hubley grumbled but left to fetch the items. "No! The water filters are back in place? No more stale water bottles?"

      "You're welcome," Sid said from the floor, though he still kept his eyes glued to…ah, he and Hubley had been playing some card game.

      Knight took a headcount, reminded herself that Hubley would be right back to join the other four, and followed Parker out of the bullpen, towards the back hallway. One they'd rounded the corner and stepped into the elevator to head down to Autopsy, she mumbled, "Kid gloves with Ronnie, Alden."

      He huffed. "I know. But—" He put his hands on his hips and turned away from the doors, as if Ronnie would be right outside when they next opened. "It's been months. Nothing's changed about Autopsy. Jimmy happened to have it empty that week, and it's been that way ever since."

      The elevator dinged, and they stepped into the short hallway before Autopsy's doors. But Knight didn't enter just yet. "It's been months," she agreed, "…but you don't just get over the loss of family like that. It was her daughter, Alden."

      Parker's shoulders sagged. He didn't say anything to that, so they went inside.

      Where Autopsy before had been just another aspect of their jobs, its chill sterility creeped Knight out more than it ever had now. She knew Parker was right—none of the slabs held any bodies, no dead, no reanimated, not even any parts—but being here, while the world was falling to pieces, weighed her down and threatened to bring on a headache.

      Months, she'd had to remind him. It'd taken the world two full weeks to grasp the reality of the situation, that this wasn't some large prank orchestrated nationally or globally by some select, dedicated horror buffs with elaborate designs and too much time and money on their hands. In two full weeks, they'd seen countries fall and the rest descend into chaos, ordered and not.

      The U.S. was a bit of a mix. Certain leaders had bit the dust or disappeared altogether, at every level. …no agency had been spared, not even NCIS.

      Knight bit her lower lip as her thoughts drifted to Director Vance. Supposedly, he'd located Kayla and Jared and gone into hiding with them. But it'd been almost two months since Knight and Parker had heard from him, and Torres and Bishop were constantly on the move between agencies, so it wasn't likely that they'd heard from him or tracked him down yet either.

      But she shook her head free of such dismal thoughts. Bad enough that she was worried about not hearing from Torres in a while. She'd already brought up McGee's death once today. She didn't want to entertain any others right now.

      "Ah, found the wraps," Parker announced from the storage closet. He emerged with one in hand and tucking another into his pocket. He did a double-take at Knight's expression. "Jess?"

      "Hmm?"

      "Your face is flushed. What's wrong?"

      Tears threatened to spill forth, but Knight shook her head and went to the freezer. She pulled out two packs, tossing one to Parker and pressing the other to her eyes. The cold helped anchor her. "Nah, it's just me being in my head too much."

      Parker went quiet long enough that Knight pulled her head out of the freezer and stole a peek at him. He cocked his head to one side. "Who's on your mind right now?"

      Damn, he was so good at that… She laughed, which helped to beat back the tears. Knight returned the second ice pack and closed the freezer door. "All of them."

      They returned to the elevator, and Parker cleared his throat. "You know… Just because we're waiting to hear from Torres and Bishop…hell, even from Malone…doesn't mean you can't touch base with the others."

      Knight chuckled. "I dunno… Calls mostly are for emergencies in end times, Alden."

      "They don't have to be."

      She nodded. Maybe they didn't have to be, but Knight hated to admit that she was scared to call and get no answer.

      "…what people have deemed 'Z-Day' is, in fact, the zombie apocalypse—" one of the announcers began on ZNN early in the evening.

      But a second announcer cut in. "Please excuse my colleague for such language. We here at ZNN do not identify such things as being real. Zero Day, as dubbed by early researchers of the phenomenon, is of course the name for the inciting incident, five months ago, when the recently deceased began to regain movement in city morgues and in hospitals. Though currently we still have no medical treatment for the cause, scientists have been able to study a few viable samples, and they say the name 'Zero Day' is apt. Not unlike a software vulnerability, the 'reinfection,' as some are calling it, appears to stem from the uncontrolled regeneration of white blood cells, cells everyone has, meaning it's rather like a human software bug that these white blood cells on steroids are exploiting." The second announcer narrowed her eyes at the camera and adjusted the papers on her desk, which was showing its wear and tear from the small crew holing up at the television studio. She cleared her throat and continued, "Scientists, in the same vein as software developers, are desperate to come up with, at the very least, a patch. In the meantime, other researchers are more concerned with what precisely would spur white blood cells' behavior in this manner, going from causing cancer to causing a transformation—and if that's even a fraction of the whole picture."

      Knight pulled a face and leaned forward to grab the remote, but Sid beat her to it, and the Cyber agent clicked around, trying to find something a little less doom-and-gloom for them to watch on the screen in the bullpen while they waited for Francis and Hubley to return from their patrol.

      "You'd think, even a few months in, they'd have agreed on the source of what's going on," Sawyer griped, breaking the quiet of the room that was only moderately filled by the television's low volume.

      Each of the rest of them settled him with a dry look. Even Sid bothered to crane his neck up, since he still sat on the floor and Sawyer had dragged what used to be McGee's chair out into the middle of the room.

      "What?" Sawyer gestured at the television with a mild scowl. "It's just history repeating itself, you know."

      Ronnie groaned and started in with, "Dale, you have got to learn to read the room…," so Knight took that as her cue to get up and stretch her legs. And, her mind flashing back to her chat with Parker at lunchtime, she grabbed the satphone to bring with her.

      Knight headed upstairs. She walked past MTAC and Vance's office, the latter with a wince, and kept going until she reached an empty conference room. There, she closed the door behind her and moved towards the window. She checked outside.

      Nothing. That stained sky remained, but there was no movement.

      Knight checked the signal on the satphone's screen. Its strength was best here or up on the roof, but Knight kept her visits to the roof limited ever since Zero Day… She heaved a sigh and scrolled through the short list of saved contacts.

      It took two rings, but Delilah answered. "We're fine, Knight," she said by way of greeting.

      Knight blinked. "How'd you know it was me?"

      "Because, like clockwork, you call around suppertime, every other day." She sounded tired.

      There was an apology on the tip of Knight's tongue, but she withheld it; Delilah had heard a lot of those in the first few weeks since losing McGee. "How're things at Sarah's?"

      Delilah inhaled, paused, and exhaled. "Not…terrible. Could've been worse, holing up with my mother."

      Knight's eyes widened. How Delilah managed to find any humor in the situation, she'd love to know!

      "But I think it's good for the twins, to be with their aunt." She went quiet.

      Knight asked what she was supposed to ask: "How're the twins?"

      "The same," Delilah answered, her voice breaking so slightly. "Johnny cries when he stops to think about his dad, but Morgan's—she's withdrawn, Knight. She's here, but she's not, you know?" Delilah dropped her voice to a whisper. "…it's as if I've seen the light go out in my little girl's eyes."

      "Delilah…" Words escaped Knight. They all knew what had happened to the McGees… All the years she'd known Timothy McGee, it made sense to Knight that he sacrificed himself to ensure his wife and twins made it to safety at his sister's at the start of this mess. But no one could've counted on any in his family witnessing that sacrifice, like Morgan.

      Delilah sniffled and cleared her throat. "But, otherwise, we're okay. You and Parker?"

      Knight frowned. "We're all right. Still have our tiny crew here, and we've shored up defenses as best we can, so it's not the worst bunker in the world."

      "Good, good…"

      "I'll…let you go then, Delilah."

      "Yeah. Catch you in two nights' time."

      Knight smiled to herself. Had she become that predictable these past few months? "Oh, hold on."

      "Something up?"

      "Have you heard from Torres lately?"

      "Mm… Maybe last week? Nick said he'd arrange for more supplies soon and asked what we needed, but I heard Ellie bugging him in the background that he was overdue to pay Lucia and Amanda a visit, too. Maybe he's with his family."

      "Yeah, maybe… Thanks, Delilah."

      "Sure thing. Thanks for always checking in, Knight. Bye."

      The line went dead, and Knight tapped the satphone's antenna to her chin. Could that be it? Torres and Bishop had just…made a detour? She desperately wanted to believe it and not think of other possible outcomes, so Knight chose to bury those concerns under other priorities for now.

      Scrolling down a little further in the contact list, Knight selected another name—but then the phone beeped obnoxiously with an incoming text. And the text had arrived from that number:

-Jess?

      Knight furrowed her brow and quickly typed back:

-Jimmy? Kasie?

      The reply was a bigger surprise:

-Victoria

      Not entirely odd… Victoria of course was at home with her dad, who'd taken in Kasie and Piper, as well, when everything had gone to shit. But it still raised Knight's hackles that the kid and not one of the adults was texting on the satphone. And Knight tried to convey her curiosity without showing her concern:

-Hey, V. U guys running low on anything? Uncle Nick should b making delivery soon, this week or next. We're keeping a good lookout here, so we're safe.

      She wished she could conclude the message with a thumbs-up emoji, but, sadly, this satphone wasn't quite current enough. But perhaps the emoji wouldn't've helped, considering Victoria's next few texts:

-No, we're good on stuff

-but Aunt Kasie & Piper don't see it

-something's off about Dad

      Knight reread the last message five times before the words registered with her. She blindly groped for the back of the nearest chair and gripped it once she found it. Knight sank into the seat as another message came in:

-Aunt Jess?

      Right. She couldn't leave Victoria hanging. Knight's thumbs flew over the keypad:

-Tell me everything that happened. And then I want you to start sequestering your dad in another room—tell Kasie & Piper this is on my orders—and move whatever supplies you need out of the way.

      She didn't want to sound alarmist, but it felt right, especially as Victoria filled her in on Jimmy's "milk run" yesterday late in the morning on his own… Knight shook her head, because her friend was a fighter and resourceful, but he lacked training.

      When Victoria signed off (just a quick "Thanks"), Knight set the satphone down and rested her head atop her arms on the dusty conference table. So much for touching base with others to lift her spirits….

      Knight woke with a start, nightmares filled with gunshots and screams echoing in her ears as she sat up in the conference room. She checked the time on the satphone.

      Oh, thank fuck. She'd only been out for fifteen-ish minutes.

      She yawned and stretched her arms and back before getting to her feet. Knight tucked the phone into her pants pocket and exited the room. But, coming down the hallway, she spied a familiar silhouette walking towards her. She smiled and met him closer by the top of the staircase, and they leaned together on the railing, looking out over the office floor. "I was long," she admitted.

      "Yeah, I was coming to see if something were up," Parker remarked. He rested on his forearms with his hands loosely clasped. "And the verdict is?"

      Knight raised her eyebrows and twisted her lips around. But she didn't have the energy to explain it all, so she pulled the satphone from her pocket and scrolled to the top of her exchange with Victoria. Then she passed the device to him.

      Parker read every last line. "…oh," he said, his voice low and final.

      "Yeah, 'oh.'" Knight took the phone back. Then she stood up straight and gripped the railing hard enough to turn her knuckles whiter than—well, than the way Parker's Oxfords used to look, before they'd begun holing up here, reduced to half a dozen outfits each and little means to clean anything. "It's like Tim all over again. We're not going to have the chance to say goodbye to Jimmy either, Alden."

      "I know."

      Still, she sighed. "I…don't even know how I can still get angry. Half our NCIS family is gone or going. The same goes for my blood relatives, the ones who aren't staying safe on the water, avoiding all this for now." Knight looked Parker's way.

      He nodded. "Trust me, Jess, I get it. My family's faring little better."

      She frowned and released the railing, moving to touch his nearer arm. "Oh, Alden, I didn't mean—"

      But Parker shook his head. "I'm lucky Viv still considers me a friend and took Dad into hiding with her. But Roman Parker was a crotchety curmudgeon when I was a kid and that wasn't going to change now. So he got antsy from being holed up and went outside when Viv's back was turned and got bit." He shrugged, but that hard line had returned to his jaw. His father's death was still too fresh and raw.

      Knight pinched his sleeve and rested her forehead on his shoulder. They stood together like that for a few moments, quiet, tired, and worn out. It was hard not to feel those things ten times over, really, when they kept replaying their losses like a scratched DVD. The comparison got Knight thinking, though. "I think…I've had enough dwelling on the past for this lifetime."

      Her words piqued his curiosity. Parker did half a turn, resting on one elbow on the railing now and facing her. "This lifetime?" He raised his eyebrows. "Dreaming of what life would look like if none of this"—he waved out at the floor, but Knight knew he meant outside the building—"had happened?"

      Knight blinked, not expecting Parker to take her idea and run with it. But the idea now felt so absurd, she almost wanted to laugh. "Oh, God. Can you imagine a different world? Just…no reanimated corpses. Just regular cases." She paused, squinting while her thoughts churned. "Or, bizarre in a different way. Instead of dead sailors, we investigate, I dunno, a storage container full of—cheese."

      One of those eyebrows sank as Parker settled her with a skeptical stare. "Cheese, Jess?"

      "What? So I'm hungry."

      His pink complexion grew rosier and his dimples made an appearance under his whiskers the harder he tried to stifle his laughter, especially when she smacked him in the arm for laughing at her.

      Little moments of levity like these were the only things Knight tried to hold on to anymore, though. The weeks had quickly built up into months, but the days were running together since everything seemed to be on repeat.

      Her imagination didn't seem that farfetched or anything like a laugh to her, though. Before Zero Day, NCIS headquarters had been just that—headquarters. Ronnie and Sawyer covered the night shift, Sid and Piper were still down in Cyber, Hubley was still wet behind his ears as a field agent and was considering returning to Cyber, Francis was a glorified paper-pusher who should've had his shot with the MCRT under Gibbs' supervision back in the day, and the MCRT… Well, the MCRT was Parker's and had been for a few years now, Knight thought with another glance to the man beside her. McGee had only just started talking about switching gears and setting aside the fieldwork, for the sake of his family, and Torres seemed itching to leave NCIS and pursue the nonexistent trail Bishop had left years ago.

      But Knight was still going to be here, at Parker's side, MCRT or no. Which reminded her… "C'mon, we might as well catch some shuteye now, while Sawyer and Sid head out for the nighttime patrol." She pecked his cheek and got him turned around to march downstairs.

      Parker huffed. "Tell me again why we took the morning shift…," he groused.

      She smiled at his back. "Obviously, because you're a morning person, Alden. Pastries in the office every morning? Then it was pastries at the little coffee klatch near your place on the weekends… Hell, sometimes it was pastries and coffee to end the night." Knight chuckled and poked him in the back. "You made a morning person out of me, you know."

      Despite all his grumping, Parker couldn't hide that smug smile of his. Yeah, he knew.

      Had the skies been clearer, they would've revealed the bright sun of the not-too-early morning this October day. But that green–gray tint clung to the clouds, even when Knight and Parker woke before their colleagues and friends in order to suit up.

      More than five months ago, "suiting up" would've been as simple as grabbing one's go bag and NCIS jacket and cap. Nowadays, Knight, Parker, and the others didn't bother with too much of their branded gear. Instead, they made use of some spare REACT body armor that had been available in the building at the time—Torres and Bishop hadn't been able to bring them more pieces yet, so no one had a full set—and they constantly combed the armory for weapons and ammunition, hoping to find useful items they'd missed on initial searches.

      They had a limited number of rifles and more handguns than that, but Knight wasn't as concerned about the ammunition, since that was one supply Torres and Bishop always managed to come through for them and have along with each delivery. Even if their group didn't see the couple until next week, they should still have enough ammo to last until the end of the month, used smartly.

      Knight finished adjusting her body armor (which covered her torso, her arms, her shins, and the front of her thighs…it'd have to do) and wound her hair up into a bun to keep it from swinging free into her face. She glanced across the small ground floor office-turned-equipment room and motioned to Parker with a jerk of her chin. "You good to go?"

      He pursed his lips but nodded. Parker did well keeping his calm, easygoing attitude in front of the others, but he didn't fake his fear with Knight, not after all this time. And, especially in the last several weeks, as more and more bad news reached them, he'd gone quiet when they prepped to head out each morning.

      Knight strapped on her SIG and slipped two spare magazines into her pocket before slinging her sniper's rifle across her chest. Then she held a hand out to Parker.

      Parker tucked spare magazines into his vest and placed two SIGs in separate holsters at each hip. A third one waited for him within reach on the nearby table, but he took Knight's hand first and drew her towards him, seizing the rare bit of privacy to kiss her.

      Knight lingered in the kiss, her head angled up, their foreheads resting together. Then she patted his scruffy cheek and broke away. "It won't be long," she reminded him, her tone light.

      He exhaled, trying to cover his huff. But Parker led the way out of the small office out into the lobby. He paused by the doors and, at Knight's signal, unlocked the heavy chains holding them together.

      Patrol wasn't a game, even though that was Sid's closest experience with heavy weapons until now, since he hadn't gone through FLETC as the rest of them had. But even for the most experienced agents like Knight and Parker, there was no real way to prepare for…this.

      "This" was the horrid stench that came with the tainted sky and foul-looking streets. Knight coughed as she stepped outside with Parker and wondered if they'd ever get used to the reek. "I know they confirmed it's not an airborne pathogen, but I still wouldn't turn down a gas mask if Nick comes across a box of them," she bitched to Parker.

      "Seconded," he said. But then he briefly touched her back, locking eyes with her, and slowly began his prowl out front, his eyes peeled for odd movements.

      Knight frowned. Patrol was the rare time when she and Parker had to split up, as he covered the front perimeter and she walked the rest since she was faster with the rifle. Even knowing it was the best use of their skills, she didn't have to like it. But Knight swung her rifle around into her hands anyway and got to walking.

      More than hating the current stench of grime and rot, which was hard to forget when sometimes one stepped and heard a stomach-churning squelch underfoot, Knight missed the saltiness of the air of the Navy Yard. She headed towards the motor pool, aiming to round the building eventually, but her eyes darted left, wishing she'd look out and see water beyond the gross, hazy fog. Hell, maybe if she wished hard enough, she'd hear the crashing waves.

      But, since Zero Day, there'd been an eerie nothingness. No waves, no wind, barely a rustled leaf. Just…nothing.

      The only sounds were the ones Knight made. Dead, mostly wet leaves squished under her feet as she walked across slick pavement. Her rifle made small clinks as it gently bounced against her chest and in her hands. The earwig connecting her to Parker via radio hummed lowly in her ear.

      She made it past the motor pool. The garage doors were sealed up tight, and their group of survivors staying here hadn't tried using the vehicles in inventory to go anywhere precisely because there was nowhere to go. No, the cars were better served as parts, if Torres and Bishop needed them for themselves or people elsewhere, or even just as a change of scenery. Usually, Knight and Parker slept in their chairs or in sleeping bags in the bullpen close by Ronnie and the rest. But, every now and then, it was nice to get away and pretend they were someplace else.

      Knight definitely could go for someplace else. She meant what she'd said to Parker earlier, about being done dwelling on what had transpired. But she wasn't exactly done imagining… Yes, Greece was one of the several countries that had fallen hard from the start, but Knight liked to think that, in that other life, she could see her dream, could have a vacation in Grecian waters with a handsome, whiskered silver fox at her side, laughing as he turned red as a lobster in the sun—

      Her ears pricked up when she heard the softest of snaps.

      She whirled around. Had that come from behind? Knight scanned the view behind her, tracking it with her rifle, but she saw nothing.

      Knight faced forward again and rounded the building, getting behind the motor pool. That either had been her imagination or the earwig, well, wigging out. She tapped on the comm just to make sure. "Alden?"

      No answer.

      Her pulse sped up, her mind filling in the blanks as to what the yard in front of NCIS might look like right then. She pressed on the comm again. "Alden, come on, answer me."

      Was it her stupid heart racing? She couldn't even hear the earwig's electric hum anymore.

      Knight turned heel and began jogging back. Their patrol was screwed, whether Knight didn't finish it or Parker were hurt. But, even knowing they had more people inside to protect, there was still a whole building for their friends to hide in; they had time. Parker didn't.

      As she picked up speed and ran, Knight fumbled with the battery pack in her vest. She plucked it out—and the damn light was out. Sonuvabitch, they'd checked their comms before coming outside, and the batteries had worked twenty minutes ago, but they must not have had enough juice, and—

      Her thoughts vanished the next second, for something slammed into Knight, hard as a concrete wall, sending her flying when she was halfway back to the front of the building.

      Instinctively, Knight clung to her gun and tucked her head in as she rolled, shoulder over shoulder, as if she'd been sent merrily down a hill. But this was part of the NCIS lot, not some damn hill out of a jaunty children's book, and she wasn't a little kid come out to play with her friends. When she came to a stop and got her bearings, Knight pushed herself upright with her free hand and searched for the source of her pain.

      There. Barely thirty yards away.

      One of the reanimated.

      "Fuck," she mumbled under her breath. Knight struggled to her feet, her eyes never breaking from its gaze. Even when she got her rifle aimed, she didn't break the eye contact…if it could be called that.

      There was footage of the reanimated, of course, but seeing one up close and personal was a new sensation. The skin was pulled taut over bones and decaying muscles, and the color was all wrong; Knight was put in mind of the rare floaters that appeared on Jimmy's autopsy table, bloated and a desaturated blue–green from all the chemicals and microorganisms that would enter a victim's body when submerged underwater for too long.

      Knight didn't waste another second. She pulled the trigger—but the gun jammed. Her heart and eyes fell, and her panic swelled. The rifle must've taken her tumble harder than she realized.

      The reanimated being took her movement as an opportunity. Its neck cracked as it turned its head impossibly at a ninety-degree angle, and other of its joints crackled and groaned when the reanimated took one step forward.

      "Oh, no, you don't!" Knight growled at the thing, swinging the rifle around so the stock was out of her hands and at the ready to use as a bat. She took a running step forward and swung.

      But the reanimated cracked its head the other direction and ducked her attack as it closed in, broken claws outstretched to grab her.

      Knight swung the rifle around and swiped the arms away, but she went down with the damn monster on top of her. She clenched her teeth and pushed the rifle against its neck, keeping the gnashing teeth above her barely six inches from her face.

      If this thing turned out not to be here alone…

      Knight wouldn't last in this current stalemate either, though, she knew that. Her mind spun until it settled on one crazy idea. The next second, she pushed the rifle against the reanimated's neck with just her left hand and clawed her right thigh for her SIG.

      The monster took the opening and pressed in closer to her, sliding down her body.

      Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her thumb shook to get the safety off—

      —teeth sank in to the side of her right thigh, beyond the protection of her body armor, and she bit back her scream and closed her eyes—

      —Knight got the safety off and unleashed one, two, three, four rounds into the reanimated's left eye socket—

      —finally, the thing stopped moving. Knight's blood, red and fresh, dribbled out of its mouth, and she spied some of her skin between its teeth, but the burst eye and leaking vitreous fluid were sure things. She could even see through the new hole in its head as she rolled it off her.

      Two thoughts struck her at once. Not one before the other, but at the same time and with equal weight:

      Parker would've heard those gunshots and would come running, the yard patrol be damned.

      And she couldn't let him see this wound.

      So Knight got to work and fast. Since the reanimated had sent her into the lot, she stumbled to her feet and dragged the true corpse closer to the building, behind the bushes. She had no bandages on her, but she'd take care of that once she made it back inside. For now—

      She glanced at her mutilated leg. The blood made barely a stain against the black of her jeans.

      Knight yanked off her boot and pulled off her sock, using it to cover over the wound. She hissed—stitches weren't going to make up for a missing chunk of thigh—but it'd do for now. At a glance, it was barely noticeable, that there was even a hole in her pants. So Knight crammed her foot back into her boot and returned her attention to the true corpse.

      Just in case, she flipped her rifle again. Then she jammed the butt of her gun against the head, smashing it over and over and over, until bits and pieces detached from the neck. There was nothing to reanimate when she was done.

      Knight wiped the rifle butt on nearby grass and emerged from behind the bushes. She jogged back towards the front and, unsurprisingly, Parker met her halfway.

      Parker's brow was furrowed, his eyes wide and his gun drawn. He lowered it two inches when he found Knight. "Jess, what the hell?! I heard gunshots!"

      She nodded. "I got one," she said. Knight put it out of her mind, the memory of being blindsided. "But it's fine. I took care of it." She cocked her head, indicating the spot behind her shoulder.

      For thirty seconds, Parker said nothing. Finally, he lowered his gun the rest of the way. "…all right."

      Knight gave him a tight smile. Then she blinked and held up her rifle. "Oh, hey. We need to duck back in. Thought this one was all good, but it jammed. Had to use my SIG. I'd rather have a working rifle strapped to my back than a gun-shaped baseball bat."

      He narrowed his eyes, but eventually he nodded, and the couple made their way back inside. Parker remained by the equipment room's door, though, while Knight swapped out her gun. "Jess, is that really all?"

      "Yeah, why?"

      "You look anxious as hell." His frown was small and concerned when she glimpsed it.

      But Knight shook her head and shrugged. "Meeting one of those things was not fun," she said with a forced smile and laugh.

      "Does that thing explain your leg then?"

      She froze. But Knight didn't stop smiling. "Kinda." Knight slipped the strap of a working rifle over her head. "It happened during the fight. I scraped my leg on a broken bit of brick out there," she fibbed. But she met his eyes and hoped he wouldn't press the topic.

      Parker held her gaze. He grimaced, but he gave her a curt nod. "All right," he said, accepting her truth, and he turned to lead the way back outside.

      But, behind him, Knight's heart broke a little, lying to him…but also that Parker wholeheartedly believed her.

      He'll know the truth soon enough, she thought as they descended the steps outside the brick building. It's only a matter of time.

      Their morning ended the way it should've: uneventfully.

      Knight and Parker had no further sightings of reanimated, and Parker didn't press her again on her earlier tussle. But she thought she caught him sparing her a few extra glances, so she mustered a tired but true smile for him, a sign that she was all right.

      Inside, everyone else was awake and waiting for them, and Ronnie and Hubley wore matching expressions of concern. "We heard gunshots," Ronnie said.

      "We're all good," Knight assured them. "What's for breakfast?"

      Francis held up an untouched plate. "It was going to be bagels, but they've gone stale, so water and protein bars again, plus a fruit purée pouch from Torres' ration stash, if you like."

      Parker looked around at the others. "Just—stale bagels? Not moldy?"

      They shrugged and nodded in response.

      Parker held his hand out for the plate. "All right, gimme. We have 'stale' bagels and a working microwave. I can make these things edible again," he promised. He turned for the kitchen but paused beside Knight. "Jess, breakfast?"

      "Mm, not yet. I'll hit the showers first. But save a bagel for me, thanks."

      "Got it." And, without hesitation, he brushed his lips against her temple before leaving the room.

      That had her doing a double-take. Parker was friendly with everyone, but she'd never known him to be good with PDA in their romance… Nevertheless, Knight decided to chock it up to their stressful morning and grabbed her gym bag from under her desk on her way to the showers.

      A shower was a luxury, especially since Sid and Francis had gotten the filtration system back up and running and they needed as much water as possible redirected to the faucets for drinking. But Knight had to wash the morning off her. Not to mention—

      She locked the door to the women's locker room and dropped onto the closest bench. With some effort, Knight shimmied out of her jeans and peeled away the sock-as-gauze covering. She snapped a hand over her nose and mouth when air hit her wound.

      Dried blood tracked down her thigh and over her knee, but the bite mark itself shockingly had stopped bleeding. The mark… Knight's thoughts went right back to outside, because once more something was the wrong color. The reanimated had taken a chunk out of her an hour ago, but no way should the torn skin look burnt brown, nor the flesh underneath rotten, that same kind of rancid green one might find when meat's been sitting too long in the fridge.

      Worse, her nose caught the faintest whiff of earthiness. Knight checked her jeans and the used sock, as well the rest of her clothing. Only the sock smelled the least bit like it. When Knight hunched over, getting her nose as close as she could stand to the wound on her thigh, the stench grew.

      That turning earthiness was her.

      Knight sat up slowly, her shoulders sinking. There was no way she'd be able to hide the smell forever, no matter how many showers she took or how hard she scrubbed.

      Nevertheless, Knight shed the rest of this morning's outfit and hobbled into the nearest stall. She bit down on her knuckle when the lukewarm water hit the bite mark, but Knight took several calming breaths and focused on that to get her through her task. In, out, in, out—there wasn't much dirt or sweat to wash away, but the rest of her felt a smidgeon better afterwards.

      At least until her eyes landed on her wound in the mirror.

      Knight quickly dressed. She didn't have a proper bandage mixed in with her belongings, but she selected her darkest t-shirt and tore it into strips. She wasn't going to need that shirt in the near future, but keeping this bite mark hidden was a top priority. Even with a spare pair of jeans to change into, she still needed this damn thing covered, just in case someone else had as good a sense of smell as did she.

      Finished, Knight stood and walked around on her injured leg. …it hurt like hell, and she hobbled when exhausted, but she could fake it for a little while longer, before the infection turned her.

      She took a deep, shaky breath and gritted her teeth, trying not to think of how much longer she had. Knight shouldered her bag and exited the showers, and she smiled when she returned to the main floor and heard sounds of laughter.

      "What'd I miss?" she asked when she rounded the short cubicle wall and slid her bag back underneath her desk.

      "Sharing FLETC stories since Sid never had the opportunity," Francis answered with a grin. He jabbed a thumb in Hubley's direction. "We all have our ups and downs, but Curtis here really takes the cake."

      "I did not mean to discharge my weapon at the instructor's feet—it was the firearm malfunctioning!" Hubley rushed to explain, sending another ripple of chuckles through their group.

      Knight couldn't help grinning, too, and the lighter moment made her feel more present and less preoccupied with her predicament.

      While Sawyer launched into the tale of what he assured them was a "near-perfect score" at training, Parker came over and slid a plate of food over to Knight. "As you wished," he murmured, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

      Knight returned the smirk. "Paraphrasing Westley now, are we?"

      "You've sat through every last Terminator movie and series with me and are still here. The least I could do was watch The Princess Bride with you, Jess."

      She snorted around a mouthful of bagel. "I'm not the one quoting it, though."

      He shrugged. "Well, true. The Princess Bride may not be sci-fi, but it's practically required watching for anyone who likes movies." That smirk was full-blown now. "Besides, Westley's not a bad guy to emulate, last I knew."

      Knight shook her head, but her eyes lingered on his. She found it hard to swallow and maintain her smile. "No…no, he's not."

      Parker quirked an eyebrow and brushed back a damp lock of hair behind her ear that had fallen forward, since she'd left it down to finish air-drying after her shower. Yet again, he did this in plain view of their friends, and Knight thought she saw Ronnie glimpse and quickly avert her eyes to the otherwise private moment.

      Even if Parker were being more deliberate in his actions, Knight swore to herself right then that she'd have a few more hours. She just wanted until the end of today with Parker.

      And then she'd head to her thinking spot on the roof, alone and armed.

      All to keep him safe.

      Even with her mind set, Knight found today dragging on, but she quickly put her finger on why.

      At lunchtime, when Ronnie and Sawyer were set to head out on patrol, Parker piped up, "Hey, you two—double-check the rifles you use."

      They and Knight stared at him, and Ronnie scoffed. "Uh, something I'm missing, Parker?"

      "Not a call on technique, I assure you." He glanced at Knight and briefly ducked his eyes before nodding at the nightshift pair. "Jess' jammed this morning, so I want us all taking extra precautions in going over the weapons we select."

      "Oh." Ronnie's shoulders slackened, and she nodded. "Thanks for the head's up." She narrowed her eyes at Knight. "Damn, Knight—you really took out one of those things with your pistol?"

      Knight mustered a grin, to which Ronnie made an impressed face and Sawyer whistled. "But, when in doubt, a rifle makes a great bat!" she added, and the pair chuckled at her humble attitude before they left. Then Knight turned around and settled Parker with a tiny glare. "Was there really no other way to alert them?"

      He rubbed her upper arms, but the gesture wasn't comforting like usual. "We've all gotta know how to protect our sixes, Jess."

      She grumbled under her breath, but he did have a point.

      Still, it wasn't just him being more vocal then. When everyone was together later in the day, too, and Francis had stepped upstairs while borrowing the satphone to check on family, and Sid once more tried doom-surfing the remaining dozen channels on the television, Parker sat closer to Knight than normal in the bullpen.

      That one actually took her a moment, because she was so accustomed to them lazing together at home that she didn't realize she was half leaning out of her chair and into Parker. It wasn't until she'd reached up to toy with his fingers that Knight became aware he'd slung an arm around her shoulders. They really must look as if they were cozy like two people at home in their own little world!

      And, driving that fact, er, home was Ronnie catching her eye and subsequently raising her eyebrows. Ronnie smiled a bit, too, before looking away and chatting with Sawyer, but still.

      Knight pushed Parker's hand away and sat up. She tried scooting her chair away, too, but something caught in the wheels. She glanced down.

      Ah. Parker had his foot wedged under one of the legs.

      Knight slowly met his unamused stare.

      Without a word, Parker pointed upstairs. He waited for Knight to stand first, and they ignored the others as they climbed the stairs, passing Francis on his way down. But Parker and Knight weren't simply heading to the next floor.

      No, Parker continued to the silver-plated retinal scanner and stood before it. The scan took, and the door to MTAC opened. He stepped aside and let Knight in first.

      When the door closed, Parker stuck his hands in his pockets and blew out a slow breath. "Want to tell me why you're antsy around me today, Jess?"

      Knight stared at the big, empty screen, wishing it would come alive with happy news for once. "You're weirdly affectionate today," she blurted, still facing away from him.

      "Okay… I thought that's one way for people in love to show their feelings. Unless that's changed?"

      His tone in asking that made Knight turn. She hated seeing his frown. "Alden, no. That hasn't changed. I'm just—" Knight bit her lower lip. "You're suddenly quite affectionate with me in front of everyone else, is what I mean. It's strange. Normally, you're PDA-averse."

      She expected annoyance or anger. Instead, Alden Parker's fear was plain as day in his features, deepening the lines around his eyes and even the dimples she loved so much that appeared whether he smiled or frowned. He blinked once, twice, and it took her a second to understand why: Parker, normally brave Parker, was fighting back tears. "…because I know I'm losing you."

      Her blood turned to ice. "What?"

      "Not because we're holed up here." Parker took a step forward; she took a step back. "You've been off since this morning's patrol." His eyes roved over her, sadly. "The thing that came after you—it got you in the leg, didn't it?"

      Knight opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She coughed and licked her lips. "I—"

      "I'm not stupid. And it's not easy to hide, Jess. Least of all from me."

      "But—!"

      Parker took another step and a half forward. "With each hour that passes, I feel as though I just have more proof. You're literally turning cold as ice, no matter how much I warm you up." He rubbed her upper arms once more and pouted.

      Ah. So that explained part of today's coziness. Knight's chest ached, being told that he'd known the truth all along. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she clutched the front of his shirt. "…I lied to you, Alden. I'm so sorry," she said, shaking her head.

      He shrugged. "Easily forgiven, considering the circumstances."

      Knight stared up into his eyes, feeling incredibly lucky to be holding down this fort with him, knowing it had to be hard for the others downstairs without their loved ones, knowing it probably hurt as much as it helped Delilah to hear from her and Parker all the time as it did to see Torres and Bishop in the wake of her loss.

      Parker rested his forehead against hers, sighing a little. His nose brushed hers, too, and he leaned in closer—

      —but Knight blocked his kiss with her hand. "No, we don't—we don't know—" She couldn't bear to finish the sentence. It wasn't an airborne pathogen, no, but it was spread through bites. As far as they knew, any sort of contact with saliva…anything…

      "Hmm. Well, do you feel ravenous?"

      That threw her. "?? No?" Knight stared at him as if Parker had two heads.

      "A shame. And here we have MTAC all to ourselves."

      She blushed. How this scoundrel could turn a morbid joke into a sexual one and muster a smirk during this heightened tension, she would love to know…!

      Still, Parker remained right here in front of her, not ready to move away. And, despite the brief spot of dark humor, his gaze was still heavy-lidded and morose.

      So Knight conceded with a slight turn of her head, letting Parker kiss her cheek. The temptation was real, though, with his mouth so close to her lips. But she didn't want to risk it, to risk him.

      Parker exhaled, his breath tickling her cheek and rustling her hair, and he squeezed her against him, but this amount of intimacy would have to do.

      It would have to do for both of them, Knight knew as she squeezed him back and inhaled his scent, not yet ready to return downstairs.

      Parker's pain was something Knight shared in as the day bled into evening.

      But it was not her sole pain as the hours ticked by.

      After discussing the severity of the situation, they returned downstairs at Knight's behest. "I don't want to alarm any of them," she'd told Parker earlier in the day.

      He, of course, had settled her with one of his I-Am-Not-Amused stares, but he relented. Parker wasn't wholly content with idling away her remaining hours, but he would rather spend them together then not at all. At the very least, he got Knight to come around to his open affection, since it'd be the last.

      But, when evening arrived, Knight began to feel pain, emanating from her leg. She was standing one second, bickering with Hubley over who got which dehydrated meat for dinner, and then Knight yanked her desk chair under her the next, for fear she might collapse.

      Hubley eyed her strangely. "Uhh, Parker?" he called.

      Parker rounded the corner, returning from the restroom, and his eyes widened a fraction when they landed on Knight. But he kept his calm and walked up to them as though he meant to be part of the dinner conversation. "What, Hubley?"

      Hubley furrowed his brow and looked between the two, confused. "I, uh—"

      Knight forced a smile to her face. "Curtis, I'll set aside some turkey for you, I promise. Now please get a move on, because no one does patrol alone, and you're due right now with Francis. So get going, yeah?"

      The former Cyber agent pursed his lips, thoroughly befuddled, but he skedaddled as instructed anyway. And, with Ronnie in the break room, Sawyer upstairs borrowing the satphone, and Sid taking a nap elsewhere, Parker and Knight had a rare moment in the bullpen to themselves. Parker didn't waste it. "Why did we just fake Hubley out?"

      "Because I'm in a shit-ton of pain and I'm a crap actress, Alden."

      His face fell. Parker knelt before her and eyed her bad leg. "So…it's spreading."

      Knight nodded. "Yeah."

      Parker heaved an angry sigh. "I wish we knew how long. Of all the millions of things the experts don't know, it's how long."

      Knight leaned forward and cupped his cheek with her hand. "They've noted a bunch of quick cases, but there are too many factors. Health. Metabolism." She shrugged. "Maybe even the will to fight it." At that, her smile turned genuine. "I'm crap at acting, but you know I'm a fighter, Alden."

      He chuckled, but it was a wet sound. Parker covered her hand with one of his. "Yeah… Yeah, I do know."

      "Hey. Promise me this?"

      Parker peered up at her quizzically.

      "Once it gets really bad…keep me away from the others. Ronnie already lost her daughter, so she'd freak, seeing me like this. And I want to go out on my own terms."

      Parker closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight, long enough that Knight thought he'd turn her down. "As you wish," he uttered, his head low, his brow touching her knees.

      Knight's heart surprisingly felt light, hearing his answer, knowing he saw the reason in her request. So she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss atop his head.

      The pain began in her leg, and it spread like tree roots, thirsty for her life.

      Slowly, slowly it became harder to stand. That was easy enough to solve, with her rolling desk chair right there in the bullpen. But then came the shooting pain up her sides, shooting up high and descending down into her arms.

      That was harder to hide. Those pains made Knight's hands convulse, and she endeavored to hide her hands in her lap, under her desk.

      By the time of the nighttime shift, as Sawyer and Sid prepped to head out and the others got ready to hit the lights and the hay, Knight noticed something new. In the light of her desk lamp, she was the wrong color.

      Was she seeing things now?

      Another wave of pain crashed through her, and Knight winced and gritted her teeth, knocking into her lamp. Parker was beside her in an instant, and she vaguely grasped the excuses he offered Ronnie, Francis, and Hubley as he escorted her to the men's room, where he could see her in better light and, more importantly, lock the door.

      "Jess, hey, Jess," Parker said, guiding her to the counter.

      Knight bent over the sink. The pain was bad enough she wanted to hurl. But just leaning on the edge, gripping it, steadied her. "Yeah. Yeah, Alden, I'm. I'm okay. I'm here."

      But Parker was running the tap, and he had it turned completely to the left until steam emerged. He touched her, ran his fingers under the hot water, and touched her skin again to compare. "…Jess, you are not okay."

      She lifted her head and eyed the people in the glass' reflection. In it, she saw Parker, same as ever yet more concerned than ever. Yet, beside him, she saw a woman she didn't recognize. She looked like a woman an artist had painted if given a vague, poor description of Jessica Knight. Her complexion was waxy, yellow and washed out…lacking warmth. And her hair, dark though it was, hung dull and limp; it looked as if it might begin falling out.

      "Jess—"

      "You promised," she reminded him. A shock tore through her, and her back arched as she bit back a cry of pain.

      Parker caught her before she could fall or crack her head open on the counter ledge. "Jess, please…"

      "Move me," she rasped. Knight licked her lips and clung to his arm. "Move me away from everyone else. If I can't make it on my own, get me to the roof."

      Despite his fretting, Parker got her right arm over his shoulders and unlocked the door. He checked the corridor and shuffled the two of them out since the coast was clear. They took the back stairwell, though, since anything else would catch their friends' attention.

      It was just a few flights of stairs, but those flights drained Knight of her remaining energy. For the last few steps, Parker all but carried her in his arms, including through the door that led outside.

      Yet…the air didn't hit her as it usually did tonight. Knight exhaled a tiny sigh of relief in the cool, damp air.

      "Ha, maybe I just needed some fresh air," she joked as Parker set her down against the brickwork beside the door.

      The cloud coverage filtered light, so it never got very bright or very dark anymore, and Knight therefore caught the little glare Parker shot her way for her ill attempt at humor. He settled down beside her, one leg outstretched and the other drawn up. He rested his arm on his closer knee, gun in hand, just in case they learned tonight, of all nights, that these things did indeed know how to scale buildings. "Definitely not what I'd call 'fresh,'" he grumbled.

      Knight hummed and leaned against his side. "Maybe not. But I feel a little better. …thanks for bringing me outside, Alden."

      He was quiet for a whole minute. Then: "Do you intend to sleep out here tonight?"

      Knight opened her eyes and stared at the brick wall in front of her. "I don't exactly have a choice. It won't be long."

      Parker didn't comment.

      Knight closed her eyes again and, eventually, she nodded off, matching her breathing with his…and then slowing it down…and dreaming, once more, of other lifetimes…

      When Knight's eyes snapped open, she had no clue how much time had passed, but she knew:

      The time was now.

      A fresh wave of pain rolled through her, primarily through her back and shoulders, into her neck—but it wasn't entirely pain. No, this something else was different and had Knight shoving Parker away while she shot to her feet, fighting the turn for real.

      Behind her, Parker stood. "Jess—"

      But she shoved him again, never minding the frailty that came with his age. She backed away from him with a frown, nearing the short brick wall that edged the roof.

      Again, he stood. "Jess, don't do it," he begged. "We'll—We'll figure something out. Maybe there's something the researchers are developing and haven't released yet. Maybe you have more time than you realize! You've been fighting this all day—don't give up now!"

      Knight climbed onto the ledge and narrowed her eyes at him, palming her gun.

      But Parker ran for her. He reached out for her—

      —and some part of her reached out for him, too, and managed to snag the front of his shirt—

      —they locked eyes, his going wide and white and round (was it fear? was it concern, for the one he lovingly called "Jess"?)—

      —right before she took those two steps backwards off the ledge.

Full trigger warnings (including spoilers): Zombies/zombie apocalypse, psychological horror, character death (implied and/or mentioned), discussion of death, consideration of self-harm/suicide (which is implied to occur), murder, and gore/graphic violence.

WELL. Happy Halloween? :O In the closing A/N to my oneshot, "Zeptosecond," I mentioned that I believe the two biggest challenges a shipper can write are breaking an OTP up and OTP death (either or both partners), and that I'd never write the latter. Then I got to thinking about Halloween coming up…and originally I had a more lighthearted, silly idea ("Who would even survive the zombie apocalypse of the current team?"). But then my muse took the dial, cranked it up to eleven, and ripped the fucking knob off, because I know for certain that, while I've written charrie death in other stories/fandoms, I sure af have never written anything like this. So—challenge met! That said, and triggers noted, my heart does rly hurt to think about what these charries might do for their loved ones at the end of the world, hence painting the picture I did for the McGees, for Ellick, for the Palmers, and, yeah, for Parknight, too. Nearly every action taken, tho, is an act of love. The only thing I want you, my readers, to doubt is that ambiguous ending. Was that Knight pulling Parker off the roof with her or one of the newly reanimated about to take his life, too? Was Parker about to see a chance to save her or at least save himself because, perhaps, he realized he'd already lost the love of his life? :3c I'll never tell~ This is, in some ways, both trick and treat. ;}

As for some housekeeping: Btw, I actually delayed another monster-sized (but not monster AU XD) fic to get this done in time for the holiday, so yay for long Parknights! :D All charries mentioned in the story are canon minor charries, with Sid, Piper, and Curtis Hubley being the newest additions from s19 (Ronnie Tyler and Dale Sawyer ofc have made several appearances and Tony Francis had cameos yrs ago during the Gibbs era—poor beefy guy rly was curious about joining Gibbs' team!). So there are a lot of Easter eggs/nods to canon for fans of all eras/seasons. :') I'm not certain whether it's stated that Cyber agents deffo have to pass FLETC same as field agents, so pls take Sid's lack of training with a grain of salt. Parker's mention of Westley and Parknight's brief chat about The Princess Bride is just an allusion meant to highlight Parker tryna be Knight's hero, ofc. :'D Also, Parker's "ravenous" joke srsly is just a play on the word's definition; it deffo was not a vore joke. XD The fic's title is also a spin on the awesome hit by R.E.M., "It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)"—I grew up with this song and it honestly never loses relevance, no matter the crisis. But, interestingly enough, and as with my other story, "through and through," the vibes for this story were influenced by some of my fav survival/horror videogames, such as the BioShock series, Amnesia, the Silent Hill franchise, and the Resident Evil franchise (altho I deffo prefer RE's explanation of zombies to mine, *lol* XD). Finally, the soft, melancholic tunes of the album Balance by softy & Kendall Miles got me through this fic, and I just. Have a listen and have some feels. c: Aaaand, with this fic, I've officially written more than 100,000 words of Parknight content~ -w-

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[sheepwasfound]

i’m in the desert dying of dehydration and a sing in front of me says “left water” “right dnf stream” i crawl very slowly towards the right

the burst of inner vitality i would receive from a dnf stream rn, water couldn't compare

[ssolarcalendarr]

ramble ahead

okay but in all honesty, i really like how hes using this to power others in his life. like actually. and i wasn't actually just putting on the podcast to boost ratings or purposefully trying to coerce others into listening for strictly the onlyfans. i actually listened/am listening to the podcasts because i like them. i wanted the podcasts to get more attention bc their podcasts are actually really cool and funny and interesting !! same thing with the documentary, it really caught my attention but i cant afford it so ill live with that burden. i wanted to empower markiplier a bit by somewhat spreading the word of the podcast because his podcasts with his friends are something really heartwarming. he understands the power he possesses over his audience, i mean. he knows people like his tasteful nudes I guess or something. he's aware that he can persuade people to do things like support his mom or friends things by using his body and other charms. and i really like how he does that. even if it is an onlyfans (💀), he's trying to help those in his life with it, the donations from it go to charity for goodness sake. anything for those nudes i guess for you guys but i would just be happy knowing that he's out there helping people like his mom get more coverage bc he loves her and his friends dearly and we all can see it. I'm not the person so desperate for the nudes (sorry for that wording) that ill put the podcast on while I'm sleeping or by repeatedly just playing through it at like double the speed so the ratings go up, I'm the type of person who will listen and enjoy and savor the words they say, the jokes they spit, and the laughter they share because its something really sacred and important to them and you can see and hear that. I quickly got tired of seeing things like "i don't care if you put it on while youre sleeping" and stuff like that, i would've liked more "hey, you should listen to this because its a really nice podcast!!" i didn't really like it when they're like DO THIS NOW !!! instead of being like hye you should do this but it doesn't mean you have to. they just saying it would be favorable for you to listen, but you dont have to at all. the content he creates with his friends is something really nice and there's a lot of funny moments there !! and they're literally just 3 guys lol. their commentary are genuine and they seem very comfortable together which is something i love seeing all the time.

not exactly sure what. i was going for in this ramble but i really hate how some people's desires are only on getting that onlyfans and not to listen to mark and enjoy the content he's spewing out, specifically for you to enjoy, its honestly very enjoyable !! the documentary that's coming out soon is something i would really like to view, but cant. i would love to watch the documentary, not for the onlyfans, but for the content of seeing him connect with his Korean side and his mom. just his family in general. i don't care if yknow youre only doing it for the onlyfans, but please try to enjoy what youre going to be watching and don't just watch because you want the end goal. try to stop and smell the roses in your little journey to tasteful nudes land. or something. maybe actually take that podcast for a listen, actually try to pay attention to what they're saying, maybe take a few steps back and really enjoy/admire the hard work and passion he puts into these types of things. idk. im kinda a sentimental type. i like to enjoy things that others have put their heart and soul into. i just like to see hard work pay off and see the effort they put into it.

[whatudottu]

Because I’m trying to read something and am constantly getting distracted about my internal thoughts, I wanna talk about petrosapien diets and also about the Alien Force inspired human petrosapien hybrid character that I finally have a design for and how she factors into that... vaguely.

So not keeping you for long, everything now continues under the cut.

A lot of my headcanons around petrosapiens and Petropia centre around the idea that most of this silicone-based planet and the lifeforms it produces spawns from the existence of crystalovores, however is best to spell a word that doesn’t exist. Crystalovorous lifeforms are either plants that grow into many of the crystals and subsequently derive nutrients from the significantly harder to eat rock to soils and sands, or lifeforms that derive some form defense mechanism associated with crystals or otherwise in need of a way to get more crystals.

Petrosapiens, being largely crystalline (a step up from having a crystal exoskeleton even if by technicality that’s what they generally are) are an example of the latter group and get their nutrients and energy from eating and digesting very specifically crystals, rocks being the cheaper and technically ‘unhealthy’ equivalent (think fast food or otherwise not-entirely-good-for-you foods) and metals, what little there is in easy access on Petropia inedible. Maybe you might have metal be the equivalent for gum, but one can’t dissolve it in large quantities so it’s best not eaten at all if not just spat out after.

That being said, a lot of crystalovore species - including that of petrosapiens, of course - have evolved to specifically digest crystals and sneak away what little nutrients it would have, also having to adapt to find, need and desire the nutrients specific to crystals that other species would not and never will benefit from otherwise. This digestive acid - stomach acid for closed system lifeforms like petrosapiens, an acidic poison-like secretion from roots or skin for plants and otherwise open system lifeforms like bugs and certain tunneling creatures in and out of water - is strong enough to break crystals into nutrients to enervate the body and leave dust behind. Open system creatures and life leave the dust behind for non-crystalovorous plants to take root, for fungus wanting to finish things off or for other purposes, but petrosapiens take that remainder crystal waste and use it to grow more crystals.

I suppose the human equivalent may render that idea as being kind of gross, taking the useless parts of your digested food and turn it essentially to skin; were it a shelled creature, waste product shells, but to be fair that’s how snails work on Earth anyway. And that’s mostly how I see it, it’s not a system that can be perfectly paired with a human function, and now (well technically not now, I already had made the connection before) I add snails to my pool of ‘what the fuck is a petrosapien’ biology headcanons- lemme just...

Hahah, you cannot escape my weird inspirations!

But, as a little something something, though that acid is not strong enough (nor built right) to digest metal - no literal bismuth petrosapiens walking around with technicolour crystals - it is more than enough to dissolve what would typically constitute for food, biological plants or meat typical to a diet of herbivores, carnivores or omnivores (hmm that’s a lot of ‘i’s, maybe crystalovore should be crystalivore?). Looking at like, specifically if herbivores can eat meat or if carnivores can eat plants for like... a sliding scale of what can happen or not, there are generally no strict herbivores whereas carnivores cannot digest - and thus cannot be sustained - by plant matter (so feel free to slap a furparent for giving their dog a vegan diet).

With this in mind, this made me think that crystalovores are to omnivores what herbivores are to carnivores, there’s a level of disconnect between the food and the individual that leads to a disconnect of what you can digest. But, though the acid is capable of dissolving plant and animal matter no sweat, unlike herbivores who can eat some form of meat (typically being that of insects rather than a full body, but can in moderation eat carrion and bird chicks) and derive sustenance, it is the difference between organic and inorganic food that simply means that petrosapiens (and other exclusively crystalovorous species) just simply do not have the same nutritional needs that organic food provides.

So, with all that mumbo jumbo out of the way, petrosapiens can and - for those trying what is dubbed ‘human food’ ie, not crystals and named after the introduced idea of humans who eat anything and everything regardless if it will harm them - do eat meats and fruits for all the nutritional value of a garnish. Having a diet of only meats and fruits and whatever other non-crystal based thing will do absolutely nothing for a petrosapien, even if it’s rich in minerals or whatever, because that’s a lot of garbage to sort through to even get to minerals, and by that point the salts and whatever other relatively inorganic part of the food does nothing for sustenance. In fact, speaking of minerals, mineral water does more good than a full course meal of ‘human food’ because even if the minerals are floating around in actual water, there’s no need to sort through any junk to get to those minerals.

And so, sure, have a journey with textures one can’t even begin to make with crystals and try out ‘human food’, petrosapiens eat crystals and maybe cheaper rocks with like pockets of crystals within them if you can’t afford better, because they just built like that.

But I have a petrosapien character who is not built like that, and saying that she’s petrosapien is only half right.

Say hello to the finally drawn concept of a nameless human petrosapien hybrid, a character I’ve been referring to as Abuelita de los Crystales after the Mexican Cave of Crystals because guess what, she’s lived for 180ish years ever since the Victorian era and, if it weren’t for her significantly more human (but still half petrosapien twin) she would have been far more alone than she is and is coping with the loss of a lot of people by being great at Dia de los Muertos.

Because I cannot be trusted with keeping a hybrid character free from angst, I have forced myself to keep her angst be of the typical ‘i live for a long fucking time and the people around me are god damn human’ angst and slightly just ‘i’m very visibly not human’ (this is why i made the mutants and magic au, this great great great great grandaunt of her slightly more human compatible twin’s lineage deals a lot better where non-human beings are a little more common place), I’ve given her more of the human-ish materials part of her genetics as opposed to her twin.

By that I mean, abuelita (genuinely I don’t have a name for her) has crystals made of bone - or at least calcite (crystalised calcium) and bone cells - whereas her fraternal twin had her nails, hair and bones replaced with their mother’s crystals (not to be confused with their human mum, look this has been a whole year of thought and it’s coming out because these thoughts are now impacting reading). This individual right here does not derive sustenance from meat or fruit like full-blooded humans, but because she is made from bone/calcite with bone cells whatever I’m deciding, the simple solution is drinking a lot of milk and straight up eating bones and sucking out the marrow like a grandfather who finds the marrow of an ossobuco is the best part.

Now, from the angst ridden bowels of my mind, this tatara tatara tatara tararabuelita (tía, abuelita or bisabuelita for generally not bullshit long titles) can now be essentially one of the founders or perhaps only member of the family that has, in 180 years of free time, has picked up a hobby to cattle farm. Aside from overseeing something that can have intergenerational workers, she has a very stable source of calcium that can also directly feed the people that she cares about with so much fucking cow products it’s like ‘Tía! I’m tired of having so much beef, can we get more variety?’.

Okay this has turned into Abuelita de los Crystales propaganda (I should REALLY FUCKING decide on a name now that I have a drawing of her) instead of ‘oh petrosapiens eat rocks for breakfast’ bullshit but excuse me for giving my technically not even an adult petrosapien human hybrid a little farming hobby with little pieces of ‘wait what do you mean her sister ‘had’ crystals replace her bones’ insight of what a year of sitting around and doing nothing about it did to this character :)

So, petrosapiens (maybe even Chio my petrosapien therapist that I shove into every circumstance that needs some therapy even if location wise it doesn’t make sense) are confounded that my nameless hybrid sustains herself off of very organic bone and milk to live and humans are thinking how bizarre it is that Abuelita de los Crystales only ever drinks milk and eats bones when her very human looking family eats significantly more meat than she does. My baby’s therapy is cattle farming and Dia de los Muertos ofrendas being full stocked with memories and offering like you wouldn’t fucking believe.

And I believe that is all, for now at least. Now let me get back to what I was reading and hopefully I won’t look anywhere other than the screen and suddenly think of something else to write.

[kleftiko]

❦ HOW TO GIVE HEAD

cw: mature, sexual content, blowjobs, swearing

here are the tips i give my friends so that they get 10/10 sloppy top ratings

"baby~" you coo from beside him on the couch.

the corner of choso's lips lift slightly in response, but his eyes still focus on the screen of his phone.

"babe~" you call again. "cho~"

although your voice is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard in his life, your boyfriend grants you mercy and finally answers you.

"yes, baby?" he asks softly, eyes not leaving his phone but the small smile still on his face. he can't see the beautiful, but maniacal, grin on your lips.

"teach me how to give a blowjob~"

the tendons in his hand tighten, nearly cracking the poor device between his fingers. besides his entire body going rigid, his eyes lock onto yours, only to nearly lose himself in the look of lust in your gaze.

"y-you can't just ask that shit with a smile on your face!" your boyfriend sputters, cheeks and neck blooming with a harsh blush.

"but who else am i supposed to ask?" your question is just too pure and innocent for the look in your face, and yet, choso can't help but fall victim to you.

"fine, just-fine." he takes a tense breath before saying "sit."

with a little too much enthusiasm, you kneel on the floor between his legs, hands gently resting atop your thighs. you look like a doll to him, so eager to please and so pretty that his cock would twitch even if he didn't know what was going to happen next.

he runs a hand over his face.

"fuck, baby, don't look so eager." his deep voice is muffled behind his fingers.

you giggle. "can't help it."

"'kay, now—um—fuck." choso pinches his nose for a second, gathering his own courage to say, "you're gonna need, like, a lot of spit." while he speaks, your fingers dance across the waistband of his sweatpants, littering his v-line with goosebumps as you free his half hard cock from his boxers.

"it needs to be messy, yea?" you look up at him and lick your lips, coating them with a shine that.

he nods silently, jaw clenched.

"t-then, you're gonna wanna -fuck!" you don't let him finish when you take a lick against his tip. the rough texture of your tongue dulled by the coating of saliva you gathered across it. as you continue to pleasure him, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his grip tightening on the edge of the couch. the intensity in his eyes tells you that he's enjoying every moment, encouraging you to take him further down your throat.

"fuck." he whines, taking note of your comfortability, just like always. "breath through your nose."

your head bobs up, taking a breath through your nose now that your throat is clear. swirling the tip of his cock with your tongue, you tease him with slow, deliberate strokes. his hips buck involuntarily, a desperate plea for more. the taste of his precum on your tongue only fuels your desire to please him further.

"the tip-the tip, baby." your tongue pays special attention to the slit at the top of his pretty dick that's leaking absurd amounts of precum, and your boyfriend squeaked out a small, "yes, fuck."

as you continue to focus on pleasuring him, you eagerly comply with his request, intensifying your attention on the sensitive tip of his throbbing member. the combination of his desperate pleas and the taste of his precum drives you to further explore and satisfy him, ensuring his pleasure remains at the forefront of your mind.

"b-balls."

your manicured hands cup his balls. you gently massage and caress them, feeling their weight in your palms. the soft moans escaping his lips encourage you to continue, as you use the pads of your fingers and palms to fondle them.

"oh fuck."

it feels like a shame to waste your nails, so with one of them abandoning your boyfriend's sensitive balls, it creeps up to his v-line. You trace teasing circles along his v-line, feeling the shivers of anticipation ripple through his body. the combination of your delicate touch and the sensation of your nails grazing his skin heightens his arousal, making him tremble with desire.

the combination of all your minstrastions causes choso to buck against you, whimpering out obscenities as he jumbles out a warning of going to cum.

"fuck!" he whimpers as your lips release him.

spurts of cum fly into the air, landing in splats across choso's thighs, pants, and your hands as you lazily jerk him off.

the fucked out expression on his face and the mess he made of himself all because of your doing just made you crave him even more, so with one last move, you gave his angry, red, tip a soft lick, nearly causing him to cry in ecstasy.

when he calmed down, he gave you a look.

"you've done this before."