#so I'm tentatively assuming they're boning

[prince-liest]

shrimp often arch their backs and use their hind legs to clean their swimmerets, which they normally use to swim! pregnant shrimp like the larger female in the back also carry their eggs in their abdomen and use their swimmerets to fan water through the eggs, thus oxygenating them. these two will not stop breeding, even though amano shrimp are not actually able to successfully reproduce in fresh water. I suppose it means they're happy and healthy in their environment!

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 27: The Wondrous Beach

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989​​​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

So much for having a simple case, Aitana thought as she stepped onto the sandy beach. The wind was particularly strong which made it hard to keep one's hair out of the face. And for this case, they needed to have keen eyes. It wasn't every day that dozens of human remains were dumped out from the ocean pumps.

Aitana headed for the set up the local precinct had placed a short distance from the shoreline. She had done her due diligence with the media and found that this was one case she wouldn't be able to push them away from. The beach was big and reporters were relentless.

"They won't be leaving," she told Hotch on their way to meet the main detective on the case. Already there were several news reporters lining up outside the cautionary tape. She was sure at least one of them would sneak in sooner or later.

"It's fine for now," he told her. He was aware that it being her first case back she was doing everything to be one step ahead of the others, basically exerting herself more than she should. Her evaluation was up soon too, as well as a pending talk about her status at the BAU. She had every reason to take things one step extra.

"Agent Hotchner," the main detective greeted first when the pair arrived, "I'm assuming Agent Serrano?"

Aitana nodded. "We spoke on the phone. Detective Foreman?"

"Yes ma'am. Call me JT. Not the most cushy arrangement," he made a feature to their set up, "But it'll keep your team close to the crime scene for now."

"Well, thank you for setting it up," Hotch said. "This will help us preserve what we can. Excuse us." He walked away with Aitana.

"Has Garcia found any potential leads on who we found so far?" she asked curiously.

"Cold leads but they might not be that if we keep studying the remains," Hotch said, stopping by another tent where Spencer was currently examining the pieces of bones.

"You know, based on the parasites on the most recent kill, the unsub killed as recently as a month ago, which means he's still active," he told the pair as soon as he felt them coming in.

Aitana blinked at his quick-pace. "How did you establish a timeline so quickly?"

"By reverse engineering mother nature. Each year, sand and sediment cover up the remains, creating layers on the ocean floor. The deeper the pump dug, the older the remains. Nine victims in 9 years means that he's in control of his urges."

"Any sense of the victimology?" asked Hotch. He and Aitana gazed over the different bones. Some definitely appeared older than others, some even grimy.

"Only that he likes variety. Pelvic bone width indicates that he kills both men and women, and skull structure says he crosses racial lines as well."

"Agent Hotchner, excuse me?" Foreman peered into the tent. "We found 3 more remains."

That would make the count go up to 15 at least. Aitana lowered her gaze to the bones on the tables. "If he's been dumping this long, it's not just out of convenience," she murmured. The mere conformation of her words laid with the bones themselves. "There's got to be an emotional tie as well."

"He'll change his M. O. because he has to, but he won't be happy about it," Spencer added, "And he'll have the entire Atlantic to choose from."

~0~

"They keep growing!" Aitana exclaimed with heavy annoyance when she found Morgan and Seaver near the lucky pump that gave them all their bones.

Seaver looked up first to set what Aitana was so irritated at and when she saw the heavy load of news reporters outside the perimeter, she understood Aitana's frustration. "That is quite a lot."

"They're not leaving," Aitana said through gritted teeth. "In fact, they're probably calling each other like the glorified gossipers that they are." Seaver managed a chuckle but when there wasn't any type of response from Morgan, Aitana stopped. "You okay over there?" she called. Seaver seemed like she had already been down that road.

"Yeah, case is tough, that's all," Morgan said simply before moving off to the side.

Aitana raised an eyebrow at him. "He never says that," she said.

Seaver agreed. "Struck me strange too."

The only sensible reason for that behavior is when the case struck too close to home. Aitana would never be brave enough to directly as Morgan what happened...but she was sure that a little blonde birdy behind the computers would end up telling her anyway. After half an hour, Aitana decided the news reporters would have to be dealt with directly.

She found Hotch back in the tent with Spencer going over the bones. "Hey, busy?" she asked.

"Going over the victimology," Hotch said. "Is it important?"

"Sort of, yeah, but so is this." Aitana noticed the new additional bones had been laid on the table. "Do we have anything conclusive about it?"

"I found a unique evolution, actually," Spencer said, "The earliest victims appear to be high-risk." He moved around the tables for a specific set of bones. "These lesions are consistent with syphilis, most likely a prostitute. This one has severely ground and missing teeth, commonly seen in excessive methamphetamine abuse. And then all of a sudden out of nowhere, a sea change…" He moved to a whole new table and gestured to the series of bones. "Healthier and stronger victims all the way through to number 12."

"What do we know about the first victim?" asked Hotch.

"You know, that one's tough. He or she has been in the water so long, they're mostly bone fragments. I can attempt to reconstruct—"

"You've got 3 hours," Hotch cut him off and apparently it was rather offensive by the look on Spencer's face.

"I can do it in 2!"

Aitana rolled her eyes at him. "Great deal you're making—Hotch, can we talk now?" She was a little jittery and though it was unusual for her, Hotch knew why it would suddenly happen.

He walked out of the tent with her and listened to her story about the troubling amount of media around them. "How much has gotten out?" He asked her.

"It's hard to tell," she admitted. "Some of these news crews are national. If the unsub doesn't know we found his graveyard yet, he will soon. Then we'll hear from everyone who's ever filed a missing persons report. Plus, I'm worried somebody's going to sneak through and leak things."

Hotch would agree. The media was getting antsy as the hours went by without anything being revealed. "Maybe we can use this to our advantage. We could talk to them. It might feed the unsub's ego, take the sting out of him losing his site. It could keep him in the area."

"If you're sure," Atiana said, throwing a reluctant look at the ocean and the media.

"What?" Hotch tilted his head at her.

"Well, it's the ocean," she said with a weak gesture towards the waters, "He could already be there and without a way to see the broadcast."

Hotch understood her and partially agreed with her. They were assuming the unsub wasn't already at sea because it's all they had. "We have to move with the pieces that we have."

"I know," Aitana nodded. "I'll go get everything started." She had an easier time gathering up the news reporters in one spot than she had when she tried to amicably get them to leave. Everybody was all nicer when they were allowed closer to the scene.

"Nervous?" Rossi asked her while they waited for the last of the details to be sorted around them. Most of the team was going to be there with her except for Spencer who would be devoting himself to the bones.

"You would think," Aitana said with eyebrows raised, "But...not really, no."

"Attagirl. But you do know that you don't have to overwork yourself just because it's your first case back."

Aitana paused to meet the man's look. "Am I that obvious?" Rossi wouldn't say it but his smile did. She sighed. "Oh God. I gotta work on my expressions around you people." Rossi patted her shoulder.

Shortly after, they were given the 'go' sign to start the broadcast.

Aitana originally thought she had trouble with the beach's strong winds but now she had the flashing lights of the cameras too. "At...at this moment it would be premature to comment on the details of the case. Our goal is to identify the recovered remains as quickly as possible for the families involved." She could hear the bumbling questions beginning to tumble out from a few reporters so she picked up her pace. "In order to expedite that, we're asking that the families or friends of people who went missing on the east coast of the United States since the year 2000 come forward. We'll be matching DNA to the remains, and it will be helpful for us to have a personal item from each of the missing persons. An article of clothing, a hairbrush, a blanket, a pillowcase, photographs or medical or dental records if you have them." She thought she heard someone's cellphone ring nearby them. "Um...we're also looking for items of significance to help us determine the last known whereabouts of each of the victims. Correspondence like letters or emails will be helpful." She would've stepped down as soon as she was done had it not been for the torpedo of questions thrown her way. It was hard to differentiate which question was coming from who but there were distinctive ones that soon stood out.

"Miss Serrano!"

"Agent Serrano," she corrected with a sharp look at the older reporter. "And I will not be taking any questions. None of the victims have been identified and that is where we will be focusing on until further notice. Thank you." She finally stepped down and left the officers deal with getting the group back behind the cautionary tape. She stopped by Hotch to make sure she'd done everything right. "What if he didn't see it?" she asked with decent concern.

"It's a risk we had to take," he said. "You did everything you were supposed to. Now we have to go back to the precinct to start dealing with the calls."

Aitana nodded. "Okay. I'll start gathering people for that too." She moved around to meet the others but noticed Morgan had gone off to the side again. "Oh, so it was his phone I heard," she said, unable to completely hide her annoyance.

"Be easy," Rossi said suddenly, gaining both her and Seaver's attention. "What?"

Aitana raised an eyebrow. "You know something us newbies don't."

Seaver agreed. " Morgan was telling me how difficult these cases can be. Who did he lose?"

Rossi shrugged. Why did things like this fall in his arms? With a sigh, he motioned the two agents to come closer. "Some years back, Morgan's cousin fled a stalker. She made it to South Carolina. She was never seen or heard from again."

"Was it the stalker?" asked Aitana.

"He killed himself 2 weeks later, so we never found out for sure. But Morgan's profile led straight to him. So whenever unidentified female remains turn up…"

"He gets that call," Seaver concluded much like Aitana had.

"Parents will do anything to believe their child is alive and well," Aitana said, "My parents tried to do that multiple times while I was in WPP. I can't imagine what his cousin's parents must feel, especially if they just saw this whole thing."

"Oh, I'm sure Morgan is getting to know that," Rossi said, eyes drifting over to the man still on the phone.

~0~

In a matter of hours, people had lined up at the precinct to discover if their lost loved ones were one of the victims they currently had as bones on tables. There was a long list. It was heartbreaking seeing so many missing people and yet it wasn't surprising. Aitana stepped into the bullpen to see the heavy crowd waiting anxiously to be called for an interview. As the liaison on the field, she had already talked to most of them and each story tugged more and more at her heart. She was glad to have reinforcements towards the end because she might not have made it.

"Alex Cottle, Beth Riley, Louise Jones," she called the trio of names and looked up to see three similar grim faces move forwards. "I'm Agent Serrano, I'll be talking to one of you while 2 of my colleagues take the other pair. Follow me please." She led the trio out of the bullpen, leaving one of the women with Seaver and the man with Morgan.

She sat down with the last woman, Louise, in one of the last family rooms. Just like she had with all the previous people, Aitana reintroduced what they were attempting to do. She went over the few public details of the case and the victims they had lined up to see if one of them could be whoever Louise was thinking of.

The woman seemed pretty sure of it. "We were working on a gene therapy project at Johns Hopkins when Samantha got the news. Parkinson's." She handed Aitana a photograph of a blonde woman.

"That must have been pretty rough on her," Aitana said. Samantha seemed happy in the picture ahe held.

"I was her best friend, and all I ever got was this postcard." Louise presented the postcard to Aitana who immediately took it to study. It was a simple card with no more than four lines as a message.

"'Weze, I'm not going back to school. There's nothing there for me. I need to find myself. Love, Sammy,'" Louise recited by memory.

Aitana had to wonder how many times Louise had reread the postcard since she'd received it. "Does this sound like her to you?"

"Not really, no," Louise shook her head. "She would have written a 12-page letter. But she addressed it to "Weze." She's the only one who called me that."

That was very specific. At first glance, if Samantha was a victim, the letter could've perhaps been forced by the Unsub. Gunpoint or any other sort of threat could've made it happened. Either way, the postcard could be a potential clue. "Can we keep this for further analysis?" She saw the clear hesitance in Louise's eyes. Of course she wouldn't want to part from the last thing Samantha supposedly sent her. "Please, you'll get it back, I promise."

Louise eventually agreed. "Okay."

"Did you happen to bring anything of hers that we could get DNA from?"

"Well, everyone on the project mapped their DNA into the database…"

"Great, I'll need that information." Aitana grabbed her clipboard and flipped to the last pages. She was making another list of each potential victim's information. So many lists, so many victims…

Later on when she walked Louise back to the bullpen, Aitana caught sight of Rossi doing the same interrogation but with Morgan. That could not be easy.

~0~

A few hours later Aitana would bring the picture of Samantha to their evidence board. It was bittersweet learning she was one of the victims. "Meet our first confirmed victim, Dr. Samantha Cormick." She turned away from the board to meet the team's gazes. "Since her DNA profile was already developed, we were able to save a couple of days. Based on where Samantha disappeared, we can start assuming that the unsub dumps here and hunts in Charleston."

"It's a tourist spot. Larger victim pool," Seaver reasoned.

"It's a 250-mile trip back here. It's a lot of exposure," Morgan said, leading Spencer to think ahead with his own findings from the bones.

"Torture takes time and privacy, and disarticulation is a mess. You know, he could have a mobile torture chamber in his truck or trailer," he said. He found in the first victim, a terrible disarticulation had been done to great extent. That kind of thing needed a lot of space.

"We've seen that before," Hotch agreed with him.

"Or maybe he doesn't drive at all," Rossi suggested. "He could do it all from his boat."

Morgan liked the idea. "Well, if he gets them on board in Charleston and sails them out here, he would have time for both. And nobody would even notice a fisherman tossing chum into the water."

"Well, let's see if our dear Garcia can help us." Aitana moved for the landline on the table. Poor Penelope had been going crazy trying to narrow down her search for the Unsub. Maybe now they could finally give her some useful details.

"Yello!" Penelope answered after the first ring.

"Hey Garcia, we've got more information about the unsub's boat," Aitana said, eyes flickering to Spencer. No doubt he already had the exact numbers for the dimensions of the torture room the unsub would need. "It might help you narrow your list."

"Ok. Bring it!"

Spencer moved around the table until he was closer to the phone. "Can you give us boats with cabins large enough to hide a torture chamber?"

"Torture chamber?" Penelope paused. The others could just imagine her shuddering. "'Cause that would, yeah, totally be listed in the manufacturer's specs of amenities."

"Try cabin dimensions. Start at 10 by 10 feet and cap it at 30!"

"That is totally gonna take forever 'cause I gotta go record by record. You are lucky I love you!" Penelope huffed. "Bye!"

"We need to go back to the families and see who else got a postcard," Hotch said as soon as the line went dead. "This might finally be a link to victimology."

Aitana went to grab her clipboard to go over the list with them again.

"Sending goodbye postcards as a ruse is a gamble," Seaver spoke up, "Even if written under duress, the victim could sneak their own message into it."

Spencer glanced at the post card on the evidence board. "I don't think this was written under duress." He walked up to the board to take the postcard off and really look at it up close. "You said Dr. Cormick wasn't taking medication for Parkinson's, right?"

"That's what Louise said," Aitana nodded.

"Yeah, but look at her handwriting." He turned around to show the team the postcard. The handwriting was perfectly neat. "No indication of tremors or shaking. There's a drug called trilamide. In minute doses it treats Parkinson's, but its main use is for seasickness."

"Something a fisherman would have access to," Morgan realized.

Spencer agreed and added, "And criminals in South America. Intel reports say they figured out a high dose makes the victim totally compliant. They slip it in your drink or blow the powder in your face and nasodermal absorption's almost immediate. You're instantaneously susceptible to any suggestion. There have been reports of locals letting thugs into their apartments to rob them, even helping them load the getaway trucks."

"So writing a four line postcard is child's play with that drug," Aitana's gaze fell over the postcard. Louise had been right all along. The postcard had something that only Samantha would say but the overall feel to it was like it didn't even belong to Samantha at all.

~ 0 ~

Within a day, the team had gathered up four more postcards confirming the same amount of victims. They were going through the unfortunate four victims' family extensively. When Aitana finished with her round, she felt herself mentally exhausted like she never had before.

"Hey," Seaver found her on her way to the conference room. "You guys done?"

Aitana nodded. "Rossi's talking to Morgan. I thought it was better that way. What about you?"

Seaver had gone off to talk to the local fishermen about the Unsub. She unfortunately had nothing to report. "They haven't seen anybody like our Unsub."

"Great," Aitana mumbled. She pulled the conference room door open and led Seaver inside. "How's the linguistic profile?" She asked of Spencer who was deep in work by the table.

"Nothing truly significant," he said, "And you?"

Both Aitana and Seaver shook their heads.

"No fishermen saw anything," Seaver said.

"And nobody was suspicious about a postcard written in the victims' handwriting," Aitana added. "Why would they?" She sank down into an empty chair. "I swear, why did this have to happen by the beach again? Beaches are supposed to be fun. Dipping your feet into the water, having sweet coconuts, building sand castles—"

"You do realize that beaches are magnets for bacteria, right?" Spencer interrupted her.

She deadpanned him. "Don't ruin my beaches, Dr. Reid."

"I'm just saying," he raised his hands quickly. "Beach sand contains more fecal bacteria than the seawater. In fact, sand itself is just more dirty than the waters."

"Didn't I just say not to ruin it? I'm pretty sure I just said that."

Spencer scrunched his face. "Sorry."

"Have you ever gone to the beach?"

"I feel like you already know the answer…"

Seaver couldn't help her fit of laughter. "Oh, Reid…"

Aitana was, of course, not surprised at all that he never went to the beach. "You need to go to the beach," she declared.

The idea seemed to horrify Spencer, judging by his wide eyes. "Do you know how many pathogens there are on a beach?"

"Do you know how much fun it is going to the beach? Volleyball, sand castles, swimming — need I go on?" Aitana thought she made a pretty good argument.

"Sand everywhere, salty water and sunburns?" Spencer shook his head. "I'll pass."

Aitana could not believe her ears and yet at the same time, because it was him, she did. "You haven't been to the right ones."

"All beaches are the same, Aitana."

"No they're not. You have to visit a fun one. These American ones…" she made a weak gesture, crinkling her nose, "They're not it. You want fun beaches? Go to Mexico."

"Cancun?" Seaver made the presumption with curiosity. It grew when Aitana shook her head.

"That's a popular tourist spot that is deserving of its reputation but I'm talking about slightly lesser known ones. I get the best, and biggest, coconuts, temporary tattoos, my hair braided, and so much more!"

"But it's still just a beach," Spencer remarked, earning another deadpan from Aitana.

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to hit you."

For some reason, Spencer found himself smiling against the threat.

The only thing that saved him was Hotch's and Morgan's hasty entry into the room. They may have figured out a new angle for their profile which solidified their overall profile.

~0~

While the team delivered the profile, Aitana set herself aside to handle any lingering victim's family wanting to know more information. Now that more victims had been confirmed, it was harder to contain their questions. Aitana didn't want anyone listening in on the profile. There was just one person who managed to grab her attention and mostly because she refused to step out.

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry but you need to follow the others to the family room," Aitana tried gesturing her towards the group, even wanting to lead her there, but the woman refused.

"I know one of your agents," she said much too certain to be a lie.

Aitana paused and studied the woman. "I'm sorry? Who—"

"Derek Morgan — he's my nephew and I really need to speak with him!"

It all clicked for Aitana at that moment. The woman had to be the mother of Morgan's missing cousin. "Oh."

"Please, I really need to talk to him," the woman said.

Aitana knew there was no way the woman would leave on her own. "Yes, okay," she sighed. "But my team is in the middle of a...presentation…" She supposed that would be the simplest explanation for a civilian. "You'll have to wait until Agent Morgan can come speak to you."

The woman dutifully nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Okay, follow me." Aitana turned to lead her back to the bullpen. She really hoped they were done with the profile but, unfortunately, they were not.

"...until he finds another spot in the ocean to replace this one…" Morgan trailed off when he spotted his aunt beside Aitana.

Aitana could only apologetically smile for bringing his aunt at a time like this. She walked a few steps forwards to meet Morgan because there was no way he was going to continue with the profile with his aunt around.

"I am so sorry," Aitana spoke hushed and quick when Morgan met her. "She said she was with your aunt and she didn't want to leave—"

"It's fine," he told her. He knew exactly how his aunt could be. "I should've expected it. I'll handle it."

"Sorry," Aitana still felt the urge to apologize to him when he walked off to meet his aunt.

~0~

Talking to his aunt seemed like the right thing to happen because it gave the team a whole new angle to look the case from. If Morgan's cousin was really their last victim, it changed the entire way the unsub was abducting the victims. His cousin wouldn't willingly go on a boat which left the land transit as the only other way.

"You know, if the unsub's abducting in transit, how can he cover it up?" Aitana asked the group. "Everything leaves a trace. Buses, trains, whatever."

"I felt like we were close with the charter idea," Rossi said, exchanging glances with Seaver who'd helped pitch the idea earlier. "Maybe he doesn't abduct them off a boat."

"What means of transportation doesn't issue a ticket in advance?" Seaver then asked.

"Passenger trains," Hotch answered with his first thought. "A conductor can hand-write a ticket once you're already on board."

"Actually, most of the smaller stations aren't even manned," Seaver said, "You have to buy tickets on board.

"You know, the train is a concept that attracts people who are trying to start over," Spencer said, "The appeal of escape, of romance."

"So if he's a conductor, he's in a target-rich environment," Aitana said with a horrified face. It was basically a free for all for that guy.

Foreman knocked lightly before coming into the room. "Agent Hotchner, my men pulled a body out of the water. Agent Morgan's at the autopsy now."

The unsub was accelerating the time between victims—what's more is that it appeared he was indeed in the ocean like Aitana had originally feared.

~ 0 ~

With the new victim, Morgan and Spencer were able to deduce that the victim had been a father. It meant that now the unsub was left with the man's child. Time was of true essence! Luckily, Penelope came through quickly.

"I'm getting it now, baby girl." Morgan was right in front of the fax machine watching said paper slide out agonizingly slow. The others watched him yank it off the machine to see the photograph of a man. "That's our victim." It was a direct match to the body he and Spencer had seen earlier.

"My beautiful SSA Derek Morgan, you deserve a raise," Penelope hummed. "Gary Rhymer of Virginia just got full custody after his wife failed drug test number 3."

"So who's the child?" Hotch asked. They had nothing on the child and it was concerning.

"His name is James. He's 15. Enrolled to start school next week in Mount Pleasant, which is east of Charleston," Penelope explained. "Looks like Gary has a sister there."

"How about how their way of traveling?" Spencer curiously asked. They had yet to confirm any specific way their victims had travelled.

" No. Sorry, babe, there's no record of that."

"Just like the others," Seaver said.

Aitana walked into the room looking weary. She had just done another round through the families for the new details they were discovering. "None of the family members could confirm a train line for us. What do we do now? Rule it out?"

"No…" Rossi seemed to be thinking of something the others had not yet caught up with. "There's one person we haven't asked."

"Who?" asked Morgan.

"Your aunt."

As quick as Morgan wanted to shut the idea down, the logical side of him knew it was a fair idea. He would have to talk to her again.

~0~

In half an hour, Penelope had the lucky train line to help narrow down the search even more. "James took the train 3 summers in a row during his parents' divorce. His aunt from South Carolina bought the tickets, filled out the unaccompanied minor paperwork, which is why it didn't show up in my search!"

"And the train line?" Morgan asked, fingers tapping against his side while he waited for the answer.

"Surf Rider," Penelope answered fast. "It makes stops in Jacksonville, Charleston, and Miami."

"Cross-reference your list of boat owners with railroad employees," instructed Hotch.

"Okay!" Penelope would have results in a short minute. "I got a hit on a last name. Chuck Wells, local fisherman, son Blake, conductor on the line. And there it is. He didn't show up for work this week."

"Is there a current address?"

"No. Only a boat in the dad's name, which moved to Norfolk in 2000 when the mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died a few months later."

That helped put more puzzle pieces together.

"Dad walked out and the unsub had to punish him for that," Rossi said.

"James doesn't fit the victimology," Spencer cut in, "It doesn't make sense the unsub would take him."

"He picked up on a father-son relationship that reminded him of his own," Morgan reasoned logically given what they had just learned. "What he didn't count on was Gary fighting for James' life."

"How do we know the unsub hasn't already killed James?" Seaver regretted to ask but it was something that had been gnawing at her head for a while now.

"So far he's only punished people who've abandoned their responsibilities. But that's exactly what James is to him now, a responsibility," Rossi explained.

"The unsub's gonna get angrier and angrier at that kid, and when he does, he's gonna become more like his father." Morgan had to wonder if the kid had already figured that out based on what happened earlier.

"Maybe we should start manning the shoreline again…" Aitana felt sick to her stomach saying those words. Even her old wound may have taken an extra jab. It was how they had found the father after all.

Unfortunately, given the new unique situation the unsub now found himself in, Hotch thought it a good idea. As repulsive as it was, they needed to be ready for anything that could happen.

~ 0 ~

"Garcia narrowed the unsub's history with his dad down to two locations," Morgan came back to the group after a long, one-on-one conversation with Penelope. "Seaside pier, which is where Chuck Wells used to dock his boat."

Foreman had joined the group after they disclosed their recent findings. "All the locals do. It's the cheapest spot to tie off," he said.

"She also mentioned a cannery on St. John's River."

"That place went out of business last year. It's abandoned."

That seemed like a ringer already.

"According to Garcia, the dad brought his catch there while the unsub worked the floor. Started at 16, which is roughly the same age as James."

"All right, we'll split up," Hotch decided. "Morgan, you take one SWAT team and go to the cannery. Detective Foreman and I will take the other and we'll go to the docks."

"We can be in both locations in 5 minutes," Foreman told the pair. His gaze then fell on the remaining agents not forming part of their plan.

"We'll man the station, don't worry," said Rossi when he caught on. Foreman offered him a small smile before taking off to gather the other needed officers.

"I'll head to the beach again," Aitana said. "Seaver can stay with the families...if that's alright?"

Seaver nodded. "Of course."

"You want some back up too?" Spencer thought to ask but Aitana shook her head at him.

"Don't worry, Spencer, I wouldn't want you to have to go back to the sandy pathogens," she said with a bemused smile.

He scrunched his face when he concluded that he didn't really have a way to make a comeback for that one. She hadn't even said it rudely and it was for that same reason that he was out of words. He was used to having to defend himself that the one time someone didn't go down that route, he had no idea how to respond.

Aitana laughed to herself and turned to leave. At least she would have something funny to remember while she was out by the ocean waiting for a child's corpse that may or may not appear. A shuddering reality.

~ 0 ~

Morgan and his side of the team would be the ones to find Blake at the dock. It took every part of Morgan not to fire at the man for holding the fifteen year old boy with a knife at his throat. "He's just a kid, Blake. And you don't hurt kids." Whether it was true or not, they had yet to find any evidence against it in their investigation so Morgan would use it as an advantage.

Blake was twitchy, no doubt disoriented from his recent killing spree. "You have no idea who I am."

"I know that you're a smart man. You had a long run at killing under the radar. But I also know that we can learn a lot from a man like you. See, studying men like you is my responsibility. And I'm telling you, if you let James go, we can be a part of your life. We won't abandon you, Blake." And that was essentially was Blake was summed down to.

"What makes you think I want to teach you?" sneered Blake.

"Look at your alternative, man. My guys are ready." Morgan had a full flock of armed men and women ready to take aim as soon as he gave the sign. Blake wasn't stupid at all. He would get the idea. "They will take the shot and they will kill you. What happens after that, Blake? Do you really think you're gonna get to see your mom again? Or maybe it'll just be cold...dark, empty. Like the water where you put your dad. It's your choice, man."

Blake deliberated for a couple minutes. Morgan paid attention to the man's white knuckles gripping the knife against the teenager's neck. Any sudden movement and he would give the 'go' sign.

Luckily, Blake gave in.

The only step afterwards was to finally give the victims' families closure. For Morgan, it was a lot more personal given the unconfirmed fifth victim. He played it entirely like an agent would and even though Blake saw through it for one second, he still fell for the trap. It just left Morgan with the same questions as before. He would probably never find out what happened to his cousin. But just because he would never know didn't mean his aunt would have to live with the same burden.

~ 0 ~

Aitana wanted to make sure that the beach was clear of any evidence of what happened. It was the least she could do for the neighborhood and the victims themselves. They deserve proper burials. She started as many procedures for each of the victims to be returned to the families.

"Serrano?" Hotch startled her in the tent where most of the victims bones were in the process of being bagged.

She turned around and came a few steps away from the fifth victim's remains. "Do we still know who this last one is?"

Hotch shook his head. "No."

So it wasn't Morgan's cousin, Aitana felt for Morgan and his aunt. It had to be rattling not knowing what happened to the poor girl. "Well, I'll see to it that the bones get sent to a cemetery anyways."

"That's not really part of your duties," Hotch said as a reminder and not reprimanding for taking on tasks that weren't part of her normal assignments. He already knew what she attempted to do, after all.

"I know," Aitana agreed. "But I need to do it. For sheer human decency."

"Right." Hotch wouldn't push her. She wasn't the first agent to come back after their first injury from an Unsub. He would just do what he could from his end to help the transition. "I need to postpone your evaluation."

Aitana blinked in surprise. "What? Again? But I'm good—"

"It's me," Hotch clarified. "I have some things to do for Strauss, so...you get some more time to think about where you would like to go if you prefer to leave the BAU."

"Right…" Aitana cleared her throat, "Um, well, I'll think."

"We're heading out in a couple minutes," Hotch said after a moment. It was ironic that he couldn't tell whether or not she was inclined to stay. It was a bit refreshing.

"Aitana?" Spencer poked his head into the tent. "You called?"

Aitana cleared her throat again. She nodded fast then turned for the table. "I'll be done soon, Hotch, I promise."

"Please," the man said sternly. As much leeway as he wanted to offer her, they were on a schedule to get back home. He turned to leave and warned Spencer as well they had about 15 minutes.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you could add anything else for this victim." Aitana had moved to their unidentified victim's bones. "I'm trying to see if we could leave the preliminary profile for the precinct and they can hopefully match it to a missing person case."

"I'm pretty sure they would do that on their own," Spencer said and Aitana nearly cut him off to make her case.

"I know but I want to help before we leave," she spoke rather quickly. It earned her a full study from him in return. She sighed. "I know it's not part of my job, I just...you don't have to say it. I know what I'm doing and I will fix it in the next case. Right now, can you please just help me?"

"Of course." Spencer sincerely hoped she was being honest because she really couldn't afford to do this with every case of theirs. She would never be finished and worst of all, it would bury her.

He offered her and her report as much he could to help her out. She handed the report to Foreman herself with the desire for him to finish the last piece of the case.

Aitana was quiet when they stepped out of the tent. "Thanks." Maybe their work would be futile but at least she tried.

"No problem but, um, if you ever want to talk — it doesn't have to be me — you can always find someone in the team." He may be overstepping but it was better to do so than let Aitana get swallowed up by her problems. He knew what that felt like.

"I know you guys don't believe me but I'm good. I have a bad scar but I'm good."

"It's just...I had a friend many years ago who was badly hurt by an unsub, almost to the point of death, and she said she was fine but she wasn't. She ended up leaving the BAU after it got to be too much." It was odd bringing up Elle after so many years of radio silence from her. Even when Penelope was shot he didn't really think about it as much as he had with Aitana. Of course at that time Emily was still around with no possible implication of her dying too. But, in all honesty, what right did he have dumping this on Aitana now? It was his problem, his way of thinking. He had the responsibility to figure it out and move on.

And so it was especially difficult to hear Aitana apologizing to him.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she said. "Do you still talk to her?"

"No," he shook his head. "The day she left is the day we lost contact with her."

"Oh…" Aitana didn't know what to say then. It had to be horrible losing a friend like that. A part of her felt actual guilt because this superficial incident apparently brought up deeper feelings for Spencer. "But there are big differences here. My injury is just a scar now. I wasn't close to death at any point. But you want to know why I'm okay?" Spencer nodded. "Because I have gone through much worse. I was in the middle of a massacre. I survived but I still lost two years of my life because of it. Then I had to work on reintegration. Coming back from that was ten times harder than it was coming back from this. I don't know if it's good or bad but this is pretty much how I felt it."

"It does make sense," Spencer admitted. He hadn't thought about her previous life in WPP. Of course those 2 years would seem like hell for her. "I'm sorry. It's really my problem—"

"Like you said, it does make sense," Aitana shrugged her shoulders. "No need to explain anything. Sometimes we can't help but to think a certain way and you, my friend, happen to think a lot."

They shared a small laugh.

"The only thing I guess I do have to admit is why I worked extra hard on this case, but I'm sure you guys already figured that out."

Spencer nodded. "Your first case back after being out for a while?"

"Yeah," Aitana scrunched her face. "I may have to talk to Hotch more because he pushed back my evaluation again."

"If you're being honest, he'll see it and you guys will get to sit down to talk."

Aitana hummed. She started heading out, prompting Spencer to follow. "C'mon, we should go before they leave us."

"Garcia would be on them if they did," Spencer's response had Aitana laughing.

"I can see it, but maybe it'll give me an extra day to actually enjoy this sight — look at it!" She had turned to face the ocean now boasting a beautiful red sky as the sun was close to setting. "I get the feeling Penelope would agree with me here." She sent Spencer a specific glance for his words from before.

"Seriously," he began, his hands sliding into his pockets, "If you only knew about the never-ending — and drug resistant — bacteria spread by seagull feces, you'd see my point."

"I really doubt that," she said with a small laugh. "I'll give you a point for the seagulls, though, because they're so damn annoying. I understand that what you're saying is true. I'm sorry if I came across as me being dismissive—that was never my intention—but just hear me out."

Because she somehow found a way to make things so casual and even playful over something the others would have definitely passed over, Spencer motioned her to make her point. He was fairly interested in seeing her do it.

"I hear your 'sand everywhere, salty water and sunburns' and I raise you sandcastles, riding on a stupid banana boat waiting to get thrown off, and a nice umbrella keeping you completely safe from the sun." Aitana waited with her palms turned up in a 'what do you think?' gesture.

Spencer nodded, acknowledging each of her alternatives but he couldn't hide the disdain for each one of them. "Yeah, no…" he shook his head in the end. "I heard 'sand in your pants, crashing into people as you're thrown from what has to be a boat that hasn't been disinfected in ages, and an umbrella waiting to fall on you'."

Aitana couldn't believe her ears. "Unbelievable. How dare you turn my family vacations into that?" She turned away from the ocean to head back to the car.

"I can't believe you never thought about it," Spencer followed her. He had plenty of more alternatives if she was still unconvinced about the terrible place that were beaches.

"Don't talk to me for the rest of the ride back!" Aitana warned him then threw out something about "beach hater" that just made Spencer laugh.

[moonvalse]

Standing in his tent, he can feel her impetuous glare on him. It pierces through his clothes, flesh, and bones like they're made of paper, burning his back as he attempts to concentrate on his drawing. Though he secretly knows he can't avoid the awkward conversation, Rhys still wishes he could ignore her. Minthara is an inquisitive person who consistently gets what she wants—he can not leave her without answers to her questions. He closes his notebook at the end and throws it on his bedroll before moving cautiously in the direction of her tent. "If your eyes could throw daggers, I'd be dead." He wonders if, now that she's not under the Absolute's enchantment, she still wants to kill him and his companions.

"I assume you have questions so --- I'm all yours." He may not have all the answers she might require, so it may be difficult for him to explain some of his decisions, but he will do everything in his power to tell the truth. For now, that's all he can give her, though he's not sure if she'll be happy with it.

@spiderwarden liked for a starter.*

[internerdionality]

Can I ask if there is anything percolating in the Suffer a Sea Change series? That "pre-ship" tag is haunting me.

I am also equally haunted by the I'm Not Ready for Whatever This Is series. The impending poly situations. help.

Yes, you absolutely can, thank you for asking, and yes, there is! The latter will be out well before the former, but both are very much in the works.

I am kind of a classic case of ADD “takes on too many fics” kinda writer. Right now my top priorities/fics I feel driven to write are:

My winter exchange fic for the Sprizzy server (currently untitled, about halfway done, will be posted third week of January come hell or high water)

The next Stizzy installment for I’m Not Ready for Whatever This Is, which is going to be titled "Add a Flourish" (I was hoping for this next part to plunge into the SteddyHands but Stede wasn’t done wallowing in angst. Almost done, will be posted second or fourth week of January depending on how progress on the exchange fic goes)

Finishing Fuck it Through as a Crew (draft of the chapter is done but needs some heavy editing, also January)

Final chapter of Paid with Sighs and Rubies (about half done, aiming for late January/early February)

Always another chapter of my “Batman becomes a cat” fic, whenever I have time

Past that, things get hazier. I really want to get back to my Marvel time travel fix-it but I’ve been a bit blocked on the next chapter. I have a T4T4T modern GentleScribed that I keep meaning to finish but have barely touched since Season 2 came out. The next chapter of Burning Like Embers, Falling Tender is actually about half done but every chapter of that thing is a monster, now, so it still has a lot of writing before it'll be ready to post.

Annddd yes, the sequel to Soaked to the Skin, which is titled Cut to the Bone and explores Izzy and Lucius settling into Stede's crew and figuring out what Lucius being polyam actually means for them, while Ed wrestles with having lost Stede and Izzy! I have about 35K written for it, but most of that was drafted in late 2022 and very early 2023. I haven't had the motivation to work seriously on it for a while, I'm afraid, but I do really want to get back to it.

To be honest, I have some insecurities about it being not as good as Soaked to the Skin—I don't want to follow my baby with something that'll disappoint readers! But I'm hoping once I clear the decks from some of my top numbered priorities above (assuming they don't immediately get replaced with new plot bunnies, lol), I'll find the energy to focus on it again. I've had some beta readers go through the current in-progress chapters recently and they have been giving me some more hype about it!

(Although if it's the Ed/Izzy pre-ship tag that's haunting you, that plot thread isn't going to pick back up until the third — and final? maybe? unless I turn in into a quartet? — installment for that series, tentatively titled Struck to the Heart. Except for how, you know, his devotion to Ed is always driving Izzy's character and motivations. But they're not going to be in the same zip code at any point during Cut to the Bone. I'm so, so sorry. )

And then finally, down here in my purgatory, I have my "I swear I haven't abandoned you" fics like Unmoored (next chapter started, at least?), Dining is Pageantry, my three Good Omens WIPs, the sequel to Learning at the Foot of One of the Greats, the next chapter of What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor (I swear I'm gonna finish that fic one day, I swear), Praying on the Height, and that Rizzy cannibalism fic I keep promising HopelessScribe I'll finish :D

And below that I have my graveyard fics that I haven't worked on in months but really do want to go back to one day—the DC/Slayerverse crossover, the insane Dragonriders of Pern OFMD AU, my winter piece (from last year, oy) for Dragonmuse's Leda House series, and all my poor abandoned SuperBat wips!

[teaboot]

You know what's wild? I'm an adult. I can take the ingredients from my cupboard and make play-dough if I want. I can watch scary movies in a tent in my living room, if I want. I can paint my fingernails all different colors. I can save up and take a weekend course on pottery. I can buy a beginner's robotics kit. I can get some scrap at the thrift store down the road and teach myself circuitry. I can go on YouTube and fold an origami dragon. I can wear a cape and introduce myself as The Wizard. I can tie-dye all my underwear. Cut the sleeves off all my shirts. Make my jeans into jorts and paint fish all over them. I can become an expert on box turtle husbandry. Keep a tank full of beetles on my shelf. Raise tadpoles, dye my eyebrows blue, start a cowboy hat collection. I can eat grilled cheese and mango slices every single day until I'm sick of them. I can put my bed in my living room and turn my bedroom into an art gallery. I could start a blog about vintage crochet patterns, or start photographing the feral cats that live on my street. I could find a stranger outside, right now, and learn their whole life story. I could learn to mix drinks. Become a bartender. Find a job on a travelling cruise ship. I could drop everything, right now, sell everything I own, and assume a new identity in St. Petersburg. I could learn ASL. Start baking. Stack a domino tower up to my ceiling and then knock it over without taking any pictures to remember it. I could draw a slug in a bowler hat. Eat nothing but orange food for a year. I could sit in the dark for hours with a bed sheet over my head, waiting for the sun to rise like a ghost. I could teach myself card tricks and become a street magician. I could invent a new instrument, a new hard candy, a table that comes down from the ceiling instead of up from the floor. I could cover my ceiling in plastic flowers. I could catch a seagull and set it loose in my house. Open my cupboards and smash all the glasses I don't like using on the floor. I could set my radio to a French 80's revival frequency and leave it there. I could start burying coins in my yard, make a papier-mâché bust of the late Queen Victoria. I could set it on fire. I could melt old nickels with a blowtorch. Swallow spaghetti through my nose. Open my front door, go out for a walk, and never come back. Let my bills and possessions and responsibilities rot away until it's all gone, like a bloated deer on the side of the highway, nothing left but bones, the memory of someone who was there once but isn't anymore.

I could go diving. Build a shelf. Carve fruit shapes out of bricks and driftwood. Sing a song that goes on for so long that I forget the first words by the time the last verse comes out. Suppose I started specifically saying stuff starting softly, snakelike? Can you imagine? Can you imagine yourself doing any of these things? What's stopping you? Is it a choice, or a trap? Are you caged? Caged by who? Someone else? Yourself? You could open that cage. Open that door, tear it apart like paper and cobwebs. It's not real. You built it in your head. Maybe you had help- maybe someone bigger and stronger and far more frightening laid the foundation, but they're gone now. What will you do? Will you choose nothing? To choose nothing is to make a choice. To look at all of creation, infinite possibility, and say "no". What a powerful choice. All your choices are powerful. You Are Like God, and if I were a devil I would hate you too

[margarethelstone-2]

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 2 of 2)

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The air conditioner paired up with the sound of the rain against the windshield and the wheels against the wet road quell and soothe both your stress and nausea alike; drowsiness replaces them and allows you to relax with a sigh. It feels odd to have someone driving while you're resting at the back, though there's not much you can do about it. The drag of your steps as you tried to climb into the car even with the help of your co-workers had been sufficient for Papyrus to insist you laid down and for Sans to agree with him. The latter's driving remains slow and careful throughout, strikingly different compared to how he usually was when handling his own vehicle. You assume he's doing it for your sake, until a faint melody you once believed to be coming from the radio turns loud enough to make the car's windows boom and vibrate.

A cheery beat floods your ears, and -- when you sit up straight -- you can see there's what looks like a parade taking place right in the middle of the street. Large tents, plastic ponchos, and colourful umbrellas help shield against the ongoing rain. There's a flower float with Frisk's face on it, along with a cat-dog hybrid standing on top of it, clad in a student uniform and waving a flag with a presumably newly-opened school's logo stamped on it. You recognize the monster from one of the few unbelievable tales -- now facts -- Frisk had told you about, though you can't exactly bring yourself to take in the oddity of that sight. Seeing Temmies walking around and near the float isn't the strange thing, but -- rather -- the fact that there's an entire choir of them marching forward along the streets, singing almost effortlessly to the complex tune of the song. Not only that, but there's another float following behind them, this one promoting free education and advertised by a college graduate -- also a Temmie, with the only noticeable difference from the rest being she's wearing a teacher's suit jacket and a pair of glasses.

Just as you hear the car's signal click left, you spot Frisk amongst the small crowd surrounding the second float. They're sporting a bright yellow raincoat, smiling wide, and with their hand held tight by Toriel's, who stays behind while they wave back at all the Temmies and passerby waving at them. Some drivers stop to take in the scenery while others drive by quickly; what sends alarms off in your head is realizing how exposed Frisk is to the public and how little protection you notice around them.

"Wait," you call out, word blurted. "What's…" Your eyes fix on them and how calm, happy, and carefree they seem regardless of those dangers. A pang of jealousy makes its way to your chest when you see they encourage Toriel to join them, bringing her out of the shadows and into the spotlight. "What's going on?" You try to shake those feelings aside, yet you can't help the persistent and bitter emotion that comes with knowing Toriel had played a major, supportive role in one of Frisk's biggest journeys. She'd been their aid for almost two entire months -- a time when you could only work yourself down to the bone, and stress and cry over your loss, neither of which helped much at the end of it all.

"That was supposed to be one of the surprises, but well…" His voice sounds tense -- as if he's read right through you. "But with what happened, well-"

"It's… It's okay."

You try to calm yourself down.

He didn't need to say anything else.

It wasn't his fault, just as it wasn't Toriel's or anybody else's. You'd refused to take the medicine specifically prescribed for you, and that resulted in you having to occupy a busy friend for no reason other than purposely neglecting something you were supposed to adhere to for the betterment of your health. Toriel was watching over Frisk as she so promised. On a similar note, Papyrus had been more than kind enough to offer you the back seat of his car for you to rest in while you made it somewhere to eat after dropping him off where he needed to be. He accepted the risks of running late simply to agree with Sans on picking you up from work, and he even rejected using your own vehicle to keep it protected from the rain.

What you didn't comprehend was why none of the monsters informed you about this earlier than today.

"I understand this was meant to be a surprise, but…" Your tone falters, though you clear your throat to regain strength. "But why didn't you ask for my permission first -- before letting Frisk take part in something like this?" You stop for a moment. "I- I'm not against it, but after what happened at the bus, I…" 

You grab your knees and squeeze them, preventing yourself from getting emotional. 

"I fear for their safety." You swallow hard, feeling nausea returning. "If things were different, I wouldn't mind, but they're not. The Surface is too dangerous for them now." Reluctance makes your chest hurt. "I'm not seen as a good parent by many, and then there's that whole thing with CPS and Frisk's custody, and... And now my health, too." You huff and take a breather. "There's just so many things I'm afraid will go wrong, that I… I-"

A familiar warmth covers your face; two hands slip around your waist.

"Easy now," the eldest of the two says. "Else you're gonna end up faintin' again," he adds, well-mannered humour tracing his sentence.

You hold on tight and shudder at the feeling of his face pressing against your collarbones. His head stays there while you settle down; his hands -- conversely -- run up and down your back, attempting to further calm your stress. No other words are said as he remains that way.

At that, you continue with, "I'm afraid of them being this out in the open, a- and even more when I can't be there for them." 

You let him go and stare right at him, eager to set things straight. 

"It's amazing you're celebrating Frisk's achievements in such a wonderful way, b- but..." A smile shows on your face, conflicted with reluctance you can't avoid and a bitterness you try to shake off. "But I'm their parent, Sans," you add, words strained. "I… I've only known you for a few months, and yet," you say, hesitating, "and yet… You're like this with me. I don't understand how you and others can be this way, s- so quick to trust and befriend, but… I can't be that way. Everything's going too fast, and I need a little more time -- until I figure out what actions I should take as a parent." You grab his hand and squeeze firm at it, smiling again afterwards, a bit more honest than before. "I'm eternally grateful for everything so far, but… Please don't forget I'm still Frisk's main guardian, e- even after all that." Notwithstanding, your smile doesn't last long. "Maybe I'm bitter, or maybe I really do have the right to feel angry about this, but either way... I need to be careful." A pause and a breath. "And I acknowledge I'm not the best parent, but… But I still need to prioritize Frisk's safety before everything else."

Sans nods and squeezes your hand back. "I'll let others know about this too, then -- If that's alright with you, 'course."

Your smile returns. "That would be nice."

"Would you feel better knowing there's a protective barrier surrounding the parade?" Papyrus intervenes, helping ease out the mood. 

He's now sitting behind the wheel, replacing Sans while he stays with you by the back seat. His driving is much more careful, yet his speed is quicker now that the parade's left more space for him to pass through. "We haven't turned a blind eye to this situation either, (L/N)," he says, looking at you from the rear-view mirror. "Frisk's safety is just as important as their happiness!"

You look to his side and later at the parade, staring more closely to notice the reason for Frisk's raincoat still being intact is a barrier similar to Sans's magic, though of a different colour compared to his.

"We were going to inform you after you clocked out of work, but…"

You let out a chuckle -- more defeated than anything else. "I apologize for that, then." You bring a hand to the back of your neck and rub at it. "I've been... reckless, as of late."

"Why's that?" he asks, sounding just as intrigued as Sans looks.

"I haven't been taking care of myself like I should. If I were, things wouldn't be like this. I... I would've been healthy, and Sans would've told me about this. I was irresponsible with my health, and now I'm bothering others to help me with something that could've been avoided."

Your confession is followed up by a sharp inhale and a shudder as you then add, "I haven't done anything to change how many hours and days I work every week, now that I don't need to do that as much, and…" You hesitate. "And I haven't been taking the doctor's orders that seriously, either." Your hands return to your knees, where you squeeze tight enough to almost hurt yourself in the process. "I don't want to grow dependent on them -- the medicines prescribed to me. I'm… I'm afraid of them changing who I am, and… And I just don't want to risk the possibility of affecting Frisk because of this, either."

Sans grabs your attention by holding your hand again, more careful than when you went to squeeze at his. "You should let the doctor know, then. If you're scared of what that stuff'll do to you, the best you can do's ask her about it." He lets go, giving you space to breathe. "She could keep your doubts in mind, and maybe tell you to visit her if that new treatment does you more harm than good with time."

You don't acknowledge you've made it to Papyrus's stop until you see him set the shift on parking. The cheery music's now fainter, and the parade can still be seen when you look back. The only difference is the change in scenery, as you now stand in front of what looks like a culinary university, large, tacky, and colourful banners promoting the acceptance of the monster population into their campus. "I need to go now, but…" He smiles, almost as bright as the sun shining behind the rain clouds. "We can discuss more later, if you'd like!"

You smile back and wave goodbye; he steps outside after that and walks off, leaving Sans to give you one final glance before going back to the front seat.

While he adjusts, you observe Papyrus from a distance, who's now making his way to the line at the entrance gates of the university.

"So…"

At that sound, you face the mirror and meet Sans's gaze.

"Where to?" he asks. "And don't say home, 'cuz I know you ain't eaten yet."

"What's easiest for you," you reply, fixing your posture. "You've already done enough."

He stays parked to turn to your side. 

"Doesn't mean we can't talk more about it," he says, "It's your right as a parent to set boundaries and all that, but you really do need to take better care of yourself, (Y/N). Not just for Frisk's benefit, but for yourself, too." He sighs, turns back to the wheel, and grasps it tighter, continuing after with, "And I acknowledge I also failed to do my part, 'cuz -- like you said it yourself -- you shoulda known about this stuff sooner than today. Surprise or not, I coulda hinted at it. I promised I'd keep you informed, after all." Recognition flashes in his irises, and he stops for a minute. "That being said, we've gotta finish up the rest of that tour soon -- It's been a while."

"Don't remind me, teddy bear." You grin and slump on your seat, huffing afterwards. "There's so much stuff to do, I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me about it." He lets a broad smile show through and spares a quick glance at the mirror to wink at you. "Wouldn't really complain over another day like the one at the hotel."

You look away and hide your grin, feeling it widen. "...I'll keep that in mind, then."

• • •

“So,” the skeleton says, hands slipping under the table. An awkward stiffness overcomes his shoulders, and his gaze takes a while to meet with yours. “You heard about it from her first, huh?”

You gulp some water, needing to cool off. 

“Yes,” you reply, grabbing the medicine out of your belongings. The headache’s still going strong, even after having ended work an hour ago. “Are you really working an office job now? ...What about your other job?” Catching on to how invasive you’re being, you take another sip to bring the pills down and breathe in deep. “Sorry if it seems like I’m being nosy, but… I just want to know if you quit selling hot dogs because of me.” It’s a strange sentence no matter how you look at it, and even more so when you consider the on and off romantic relationship you share with the monster; or to put it bluntly: a friend with benefits -- or a man-friend, as your godmother had so accused him of. “I… I feel like I’m responsible for this, so I’d really like to know.”

Sans grins, takes his drink, and swirls it around. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you yet.” He sets it down and breaks eye contact with you to retrieve something from his suitcase. When he finds the item, he places it on the table, revealing a yellow folder about as thick as the menu left beside you, open to display an array of desserts, one you'd tried the evening before you stayed with him at the hotel, and the other you had today as a way to make an impromptu meeting with him about what happened earlier with Brenda's own fair share of invasiveness. “I know it seems way too coincidental, but I really am workin’ in an office now.”

You pick up the folder, set it in front of you, and keep a hand over it.

“It’s about that thing Tori wants to talk about with you.” He tugs at his jacket’s sleeve; that sight makes you take in the oddity of his looks right now: wearing a suit and tie. He’s like a whole other person today. The main two things that remind you he’s still the same as before are his low voice and mellow personality. Even his posture and body language are different, as if to match with the formality of his attire. “Open it,” he adds, facing your eyes again. “It’ll kinda spoil the surprise she has for you, but I think I owe you a better explanation after what happened today."

You consider his words and eye him for a moment. While he has a more proper posture, the monster’s the same one you met months ago. He’s still himself -- formal wear or not. “It’s… It's alright,” you say, smiling. “I’ll wait until Saturday.”

Tension seems to let him go, yet he still replies with, “You can open it, really. Tori said it was fine, and that she could use the extra time this saves up to take you somewhere with her.”

“...Is it really okay?” You pull your hand back from the folder, emphasizing your words.

Sans nods, sighing the rest of his rigidity away. “Go ahead.”

Doing as told, you tear it open as carefully as you’re capable of, preventing potential damage to the documents waiting inside. From there, you retrieve a single sheet of paper first, its texture rough and giving out at being far more important than all the other files found under it. You turn it around. The words ‘Frisk (L/N)’ and ‘student’ instantly pair up and click into your mind. There’s a school under Toriel’s name written down, along with a print of its logo and motto -- the former you recognize from the parade. 

“I…”

You can’t find the proper words to say to him. It worsens when you decide to take a peek at another document, seeing your name right in the middle. It's not as thick as the previous paper, but it still holds potential for a new future. Besides Toriel's stamp of approval and a small paragraph stating the terms, a single, empty line waits for you at the bottom. Your signature's the only thing missing for the agreement to be made.

“This is…” You shudder out a gasp, almost forgetting to breathe.

The skeleton breaks the ice, saying, “Tori’s school finally got approved, and she was thinking of havin' you and Frisk in it.” You face to his side, holding back a flinch when you notice he’s moved closer to you; the table helps keep some distance between you, fortunately. “Whaddya say, (Y/N)?” he asks. “You don’t have to answer right away, but… Just know the offer’s up, and that we see you guys as a family.”

You hoist yourself over the table and reach out for a hug, using that to replace any words you could possibly direct to the monster in front of you. He returns it, maintaining his hold on you until you break it apart -- a bit complicated to do when you notice you’re letting yourself get sentimental again. That allows your mind to drift back to the past and the more recent memory of Brenda’s visit.

“Thank you...” Your words come off in a murmur, lacking anything to say even now. 

You sniffle to restrain the emotions forming up inside, from disbelief and contentment, to melancholy and excitement. Were this a movie and were you on closer terms with the monsters, you would’ve imagined kissing the one in front of you in the sheer spur of the moment. Unresolved tension and personal limitations team up to delay any progress of that kind with him. “So you... I take it you’re in charge of keeping finances in order while her school finally opens?” you ask, changing the topic. You need time to think -- just like he’d mentioned. Having Frisk study in Toriel’s school didn’t seem like a bad choice if you were going to be paying for it, and if it would help bring more word out about her school. You working there was a wholly different story, finding the offer a bit too good to be true. It wasn't because of the goat lady, but rather due to it feeling like you were straight-up taking advantage of her and all the other monsters’ kindness. 

“Precisely,” he replies, grinning. 

His expression freezes up, and it’s only when he sits back down that it loosens. The proximity left between you after the hug's kept itself present without you acknowledging it by full. “I can work the numbers fast, so that way Alphys can focus more on plannin' out the structure and how science class will be laid out, since we all wanna leave things runnin' well before we can start employin' any other monsters.” He meets your eyes again and winks. “And of course, any cute human who’s willing to help us out.”

You glance away, feeling your face turn warm. “I'll… I’ll think about it.” Then, you look back to him; a question pops into your thoughts. “But what service could I provide you with? I've only got an Associate's in Business with what, well... happened in the past.”

“You say that like it’s nothing," he replies, chuckling. “You could easily take up three different positions with those preparations you've got.” Then, he sits back and takes the check when a bunny waitress arrives with it. “You’ll see what I mean when you talk with Tori this Saturday. Can’t really keep spoilin’ the surprise for you anymore.”

Beat to it, you put your wallet away and shift on your seat. “Alright,” you say, taking the folder with you. “But could I still make it up to you somehow? I know Brenda can be a bit, well... tough to handle, so it's only fair for me to do this."

“I’m perfectly fine meeting up like this. And she came by right as I was about to clock out, so I’d tell you it’s no big deal, but…" He trails off to stare at you, done with paying up. "If this's a crafty excuse for us to keep on hangin' out, then I'm all on board with it, puddin'."

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— 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊.

— 𝓭𝓾𝓵𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓾𝓶.

"SO, WHAT DO YOU think?" Your friend's voice was drowned out by the music blasting from the speakers. Neon lights pulsed to the bass of Chase Atlantic's "Swim", a song that had been put into your playlist only recently. "Cool, right?"

You reached up and adjusted the neck of your shirt. "Yeah, a bit cold though—are all strip clubs like this?"

When you had accepted the job to make some extra cash to squeeze you through the last semester of college, it had been a no brainer. The Valeria was one of the most prominent clubs in Eden, frequented by both angels and demons alike, contrary to what your adopted parents had told you when you were nineteen. You lucked out with your best friend being the owner of the establishment.

"Yeah, the cold keeps people from getting sleepy and wanting to go home which, in turn, encourages them to spend more money." Kiyoko shrugged and you laughed at her nonchalant tone. "Anyway, the girls are rehearsing before the night starts. There's a fight club down the street and a lot of the fighters like to pop in when their adrenaline's high."

"I bet it doesn't hurt that some of them won cash," you joked lightly. "Devils or angels?"

"Both. Just keep an eye out for our regulars. Lev will point them out to you." Kiyoko pointed to the desk manager who, even from your distance, seemed to be a lanky giant. He waved when you looked over. "He's harmless. A bit tone deaf, but harmless. If you ever need help just go to him."

"Gotcha." You waved back tentatively and looked to the stage where girls were practicing and laughing. "So, do I go over there or…?"

Kiyoko shook her head and pointed to the bar. "No, I'm starting you off at the bar. You were a pretty good bartender from what I remember so you can do what you're familiar with."

Your relief was palpable. "Thanks, Kiyoko. I don't think dancing is what I'm good at anyway."

"You're welcome. Let me know if you want to back out, okay?" She crossed her arms. "A lot of the customers can be a bit… much."

"It's okay, I've dealt with rude customers before," you reassured her. "I'll just be making drinks right?"

"Yeah, but the uniform is pretty revealing. Just be careful."

Kiyoko wasn't lying. When she finally left you to get ready, you discovered the level of skimpiness with your own eyes.

It was, in a sense, just a plain black bikini with a crystal body harness for taste. That might not have been so bad if it hadn't been made deliberately a size too small and threatened to show your assets if you even breathed wrong. While the body harness was flattering to your curves, you couldn't help but be nervous by the amount of skin you were showing.

Paired with black strappy heels, you looked like you had stepped right out of a Maxim magazine. That was probably what Kiyoko had intended.

With a sigh, you exited the bathroom and headed towards the bar. Lev flagged you down before you could get there, though, and curious, you approached him, an unintentional sway in your step from the heels.

"Hey, [Name]! I'm Lev, nice to meet you." He offered his hand and you shook it, afraid to be seen as rude if you didn't. "Kiyoko forgot to give you your ID so I dug one out from the storage room. Don't lose it."

He handed you a lanyard with a plastic card on it. It was a generic identification card with nothing special about it, except your name taped to the top part on a sticker.

"Thanks." Lev smiled at you and you couldn't help but notice the peculiar color of his eyes and hair. "If it's okay to ask, Lev, are you…?"

"Human? Nope." He snickered at the look on your face. "Don't look so scared, it's fine. I'm a devil. Kiyoko recruited me when fighting didn't pan out for me."

"So that's common among your… kind?" This was all so new to you. You reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Lev tracked the movement idly, as if he couldn't help it. "Fighting, I mean."

"Yeah. Devils are notorious for their high tempers," he explained. "Fighting usually helps that. Or sex, but that's a personal preference. You might get propositioned a few times but that's normal."

"I see." You rubbed your elbows and rocked back on your heels. "Is there anything I should be worried about?"

"Not really. Just stay away from the Aoba Johsai devils if you can. They're pretty obvious and travel in a tight knit group. The only trustworthy person in it is Iwaizumi Hajime, I'd say, so you can serve him." Lev shrugged. "Though he's not coming in on your shift. There's a lot of fights going on tonight."

"Okay. Thanks, Lev."

"No problem."

Your first night as bartender went without a hitch, unless you counted the few guys who hit on you every chance they got. It wasn't rowdy, which you assumed was from the fights going on, and you managed to clock out with a decent paycheck and a tiredness that was seeping into your bones.

As you walked out the front doors, waving goodbye to Lev—he seemed nice enough, regardless, and you needed new friends in Eden now that you were taking online classes—you stepped out into what you could only guess was the line to the fight club.

It ran almost two blocks, people wearing unusual chic clothes to watch someone's face get beaten in. The line consisted primarily of girls, you noticed, and adjusted the straps of your gym bag on your shoulder.

You prepared to turn on your heel and head to your apartment in North Eden, where the humans lived, when something told you to turn around and check out the fight club. It wasn't as if you had anything to do at the moment, and your classes had been delayed for next week due to the school's security issues. You would be bored out of your mind at home, you knew, but you side eyed the line and the multiple people lining it.

Maybe not…

"You must be [Name]."

You jumped in fright when the doors opened behind you. Reflexively, you made a first, but when you saw the familiar face of the girl who had been on stage, you sighed in relief. "Sorry. I'm just jumpy."

"That's fine." She smiled to reveal perfect white teeth. Her hair made you sick with envy; long, auburn curls that dangled down to her hips in thick ringlets. "I'm Lulu. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself inside."

"No, no it's okay. You were practicing." You smiled in return. Then, you pointed to the line of people. "Are they always this long?"

"To Yulara?" Lulu inquired. "Yeah. The lines depend on the fighters. They have an elite lineup tonight. Why? Did you want to go?"

She took the sheepish expression that crawled over your face as an affirmative.

"Alright. Come on." Lulu linked her arm through yours and, with little difficulty, began skipping through the line. People parted like the dead sea for her and you were just dragged along for the ride. "I'll get you in. Consider it a welcome gift!"

"Are you sure we should be skipping these people?"

"Of course. We work at Valeria; we have VIP passes," Lulu replied cheerfully. At the front of the line was a bouncer dutifully checking people in and stamping their wrists with ultraviolet ink. "Hey, Aone! This is [Name]. She's new and wanted to see the fights."

You expected him to be suspicious of you. He was quite intimidating, eyes narrowed and his height did nothing but terrify you. Instead, with a quick movement, he marked your wrist and sent you inside.

Lulu grinned. "Thanks, Aone. I'll see you when I get home."

Bewildered, you glanced between her and the now blushing male, then back to Lulu. She shrugged and put a finger over her lips. You mimed zipping yours in response.

Lulu escorted you down a flight of stairs that led into a wide open room filled with people. In the center was a circle of wire and fence, keeping what looked like a pit closed off. You could only guess that's where there were people fighting.

"This is where I leave you." She patted your back. "Have fun! Don't drink the wine though, people always roofie it before the fights start."

"Oh. Okay." You smiled. "Thanks again."

"No problem." With a wave she retreated back up the stairs.

You took a deep breath and looked back towards the ring, your curiosity taking over. Clutching your gym bag, you began to pave your way through the crowd, unaware of the familiar face flashing across an LED screen over the door.

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Today on My Life as a Clumsy Fuck AKA the Time I Almost Died on a Camping Trip

Hey guys, I'm baaaack! Today I'm going to amaze and entertain you with a harrowing tale of the time my clumsy ass almost died (multiple times) on a camping trip. So first things first, I'm clumsy. Like, bad. If it's on the floor, I trip over it. Even air. And believe me this will not be the last time you hear of my amazing clumsiness.

About a year ago, me and a couple friends decided we were going to take a five day camping trip to Cumberland Falls in Kentucky. If you've never been I highly recommend it, it's absolutely beautiful! So I get all packed and hit the road, planning to meet my other friends there. Now, a little info about those 2. They're very adventurous and they love to take the path less traveled. Like Bear Grylls without all the piss drinking. And don't get me wrong, I'm adventurous too. I love being outside in nature and exploring. So naturally I assumed I would have no problem keeping up with them. Well you know what the say about assuming. And I definitely made an ass out of me. Anyway, we all meet up in the parking lot and decide to just jump right into the adventuring. We immediately jump right into the dare devil shit. They walk over to this little rock cliff and find an opening that we could climb through. So they made their way up through the crevice and finally it was my turn. Now 2 things about me: 1) I'm 5'1" and 2) I have the joints of an 80 year old (thanks to the notorious Fibromyalgia or whatever the hell I have). So I'm looking up at this crevice, and I start getting bold. Like yeah I can do this, I ain't no bitch. And I reach up as far as I can, grab ahold of the rock, and proceed to swing my leg up. Well as I did this, my hip was pretty much like you done fucked up. And boy was it right. After I finally more or less dragged my body through the rocks, I stood up and almost fell over. My hip was throbbing and I was already ready to go sit by the fire and eat marshmallows. And this was only 5 minutes into the hike.

A few hours later, hip still hurting, the trip was going pretty well. There were some pretty great views and it was really nice out. We decided to take a dip in the river for awhile. All in all, things went well there too, except my friends got some parasites all over them 🦠 when we finally decided to keep moving, we soon came to another out cropping of rock that needed climbing. And of course, I get about 5 feet off the ground on this cliff and my foot slips. I fell right on my back. Luckily I was wearing a backpack (which also happened to have my expensive camera in it), so that kept me from smashing the back of my head on a rock. But it still hurt like a motherfucker. I laid on the ground for about 5 minutes just laughing my ass off because I'm so dumb. And that isn't even the worst of it.

So, keep in mind we've been hiking all day, about 5 or 6 hours over rough terrain and climbing up rocks. I'm tired, its hotter than satan's balls, and my body has already taken quite a beating. Well we finally made it back to a trail. I saw a sign that said we only had 1/2 a mile left. That put a tiny minuscule of pep back into my step. I was still lagging behind, which was fine with me. I was just so ready to make it back. This is where the fun really begins. Eventually we come across a decent size log laying across the path. It wouldn't have been a hard obstacle had I been able to control my body. Well I attempted to step over the log. And when I say attempted, I mean my brain said to stretch my leg up and over the log, but, like a bad game of telephone, my legs misread the message. I actually stepped directly onto the log. Which was covered in moss and very slippery. I lifted my other foot, and put all my wait on the other foot that was standing on the log, and it was at that moment I realize, I fucked up. My foot immediately slips off the log, and jams itself between the log and a large jagged rock. I fell. Hard. As I came crashing down, only one hand came up to catch myself. And guess where all my weight went? Yep! All on my right wrist. With a very audible POP. I immediately unjam my leg and plop my ass right down on the ground. I grab my wrist and immediately start yelling FUCK FUCK I THINK MY WRIST IS BROKEN. It had already started to swell and It HURT. Then I noticed that the leg that had been jammed between the rock and the log hurt a hell of a lot worse. I looked down and noticed a huge white spot where a chunk of my skin had been ripped off, and there was blood and scrapes all over. I don't get queasy when I'm around blood or see wounds. Ever. But I almost passed out. Because my friend looked at my leg and said "oh my god is that your bone??" He offered to carry me but, again, I ain't no bitch. So I slowly, and very painfully, got up. I proceeded to limp another half mile back to the entrance of the trail. I emerged from the woods like I had just escaped Michael Meyers. As we are walking up the stairs to get to the parking lot, we pass the Park Ranger. This motherfucker looks me dead in the eyes, looks at the state I'm in, and just turns around and walks away without a word. Like thanks, fuck you too buddy. Well luckily I had a first aid get in my car. I attempted to clean my leg as best I could, could antibacterial cream on it and wrapped it up. And then we drove down the road, hiked a few minutes up a hill, to find an okay spot to make camp. In the dark. I was literally so done with life, I crawled into the tent and tried to sleep. Which I couldn't because everytime I made the slightest move, it made my wrist and leg hurt. To make a long story longer, we ended up cutting the trip short, since this literally all happened in one day, took my ass to urgent care and went home. I had to have 2 xrays because they thought my shin was cracked and they thought my wrist was fractures. Turns out my wrist was just sprained and my shin and bone were only bruised. So....yeah. I mean you shouldn't be surpised. I'm a whole hot mess.

Well, the moral of this story is someone PLEASE WRAP ME IN BUBBLE WRAP AND KEEP ME INSIDE AT ALL TIMES BECAUSE I'M GOING TO DIE IN A STUPID WAY. And remember folks, it's not an adventure until you almost die!

Also, I'm going to attach some pictures below of Cumberland falls, our hike, and my injuries (WARNING: GRUESOME AND AWESOME). I'm pretty proud of my battle scar!

Until next time 😜