telomeres

by Vexia

Summary:

There's a warm weight beneath him, legs tangled between his. A pair of hands pulls him closer, palms calloused and very much real. Some of Leon's lingering fear melts away, and his head falls, meeting a bare chest. A steady heartbeat thumps in his ear.

"That's it, querido," Luis whispers. His voice has a rasp to it that suggests that he's just been rudely awoken as well. "You're safe now. It was just another dream."

-

Post-Undertow short fics and potential 'what if' scenarios.

Notes:

hello again! I wanted to get this started a lot sooner, but I've had a lot on my plate and didn't write a single word for a month 💀 oh well, we're here now and that's what counts

I guess the best way to describe this is that it's a little anthology of other ideas and threads I've had spinning while writing undertow, mostly taking place after that fic ends. I have a list of short prompts to work through and it's gonna be pretty freeform. on the off chance there ends up being enough of them for organisation to matter, the summary of each chapter will note what the general focus is and what point in time it's set in. this one is set in january 2007, and is likely to be the latest one chronologically. a taste of where Leon and Luis end up in the long term, when all is said and done :>

if you're here from browsing the tags, this isn't going to make sense without reading the previous fic in this series (I'd love it if you did, but hey, no pressure!)

title from the song of the same name (again, sorry not sorry) + chapter title from QUIXØTE [i am alone, and they are everyone] by crywolf

hope you enjoy ❤

cw: medical trauma, needles, mild gore

Chapter 1: 'til nothing but my heart remains

He's sinking again.

What strikes Leon first is the silence. He convinces himself he must have been stripped of his hearing altogether, but the sound of his own ragged exhale hits his ears moments later, a breath he didn't realise he was holding in. Muffled by whatever fluid he's suspended in, it's accompanied by a stream of air bubbles, trailing upwards until they disappear out of view. Being proven wrong does nothing to ease the panic already beginning to build, practically an old friend in its familiarity.

It isn't right. He can't remember the last time his head was this quiet. Something is missing. After months of constant exposure – maybe even years, he isn't sure, time and memory are one big blur he can't seem to grasp at – the hive has gone dark.

The loss aches, but it pales in comparison to the realisation that he's well and truly alone. A dead weight sits beneath his skin, nestled in his back as if that were its tomb. His plaga isn't moving. Leon freezes, waiting for some kind of sign that he's wrong about that too – a weak twitch of its legs, a nudge across the bridge between them, anything. He waits and waits, long past the point of any remaining doubt. Nothing changes.

He screams, lashing out into the space around him. Muffled or not, it's less of a screech than he's used to making, torn from his lungs with no hint of movement from his mandibles. It's distantly, distinctly human in a way that doesn't belong to him. Not anymore.

His tail collides with a thick pane of glass. It cracks from the force of the impact, so he swings again. He puts his full weight behind it despite every complaint his weakened body makes, clumsy and uncoordinated, only half the man he once was. The containment chamber shatters, sending him tumbling out into a sea of blinding light.

The fall seems to last a lifetime. Leon collides with the steel grating below shoulder first, grimacing in pain. Sirens blare, and after so long spent in quiet stasis, they're loud enough to be ear splitting. Disoriented, he drags himself to his feet. What he sees when the room finally stops spinning has his blood running cold.

The other tanks around him are filled with copies of himself. Each one is unique, preserved in a different stage of evolution like a set of overgrown flies caught in amber. The agent he was when he first arrived in Valdelobos looks down at him from his left, an overgrown creature he can only just recognise as being him is constricted by a tank to his right, and between them lies an entire spectrum.

He's back on the island that served as the heart of the Los Illuminados cult, deep underground in Facility 3. Specimen Storage. The place where his old life ended, and his new life began. This isn't how he remembers leaving it – hell, the state of it makes no sense, but that doesn't make it feel any less real. He's torn between running for the exit and collapsing back to the ground.

Phantom hands caress his neck. A whisper worms its way into his ear, cutting through the noise.

"You were my greatest creation. You had so much potential." It's Novoa's voice. The breath he only just managed to draw in catches in his throat. She tuts, and her nails dig in, fingers leaving trails of her own cold blood in their wake. "Such a shame that you wasted it. But no matter – we can right this wrong together. We can discover where your limits truly lie."

Leon bolts, not wanting to wait and see what she means by that. He doesn't look back to check whether she's following, or whether she was even there to begin with. Her unhinged laughter follows him as he runs either way, echoing through a tunnel that never seems to end. He keeps stumbling as he goes, failing to reach anywhere near his full speed, no longer able to coordinate himself on all fours.

The further he ascends, the more reality warps around him and within him. More phantoms grasp at him, prodding and poking, dragging him in every direction besides the one he needs to take. The pinprick sensation of needles burrow into his skin, giving and taking in equal measure. Scalpels carve into flesh and chitin alike, extracting samples for god knows what reason.

When the exit finally comes into view, a blade swings from behind him. In an instant, the stinger of his tail is severed, taking several segments along with it. He collapses into a crawl, vision going white.

"It's for your own good," another voice echoes, an amalgamation of so many he's heard before. "It's for our… your safety."

Something grabs his mandibles, pulling backwards and ripping. His claws are torn out one by one by unseen pliers, leaving him completely defenceless. Leon still keeps crawling, pushing past the pain, refusing to stop and witness his own piecemeal deconstruction. What other choice does he have?

His final reward for making it so far is a glimpse of the Verdugo standing in the doorway, framed by a halo of overhead lighting from the lab beyond. It lifts him from the ground as if he's weightless, watching him squirm with what can only be described as disappointment.

"You are no longer worthy," is all it says, barely understandable to him now, before its own stinger plunges right into his gut.

 

---

 

Leon jolts awake in a cold sweat, panting. It's pitch dark, a sign that he's no longer where he thought he was, but he can't bring himself to believe it.

There's a warm weight beneath him, legs tangled between his. A new pair of hands pulls him closer, palms calloused and very much real. He flinches at the touch all the same, writhing without aim, not quite conscious enough yet to make an attempt at escaping. His claws dig into the bedding. The feel of tearing cotton is grounding, in its own way. A reminder that he's still himself.

Those hands move to his hair instead, scratching lightly at his scalp. Some of that lingering fear melts away, and his head falls, meeting a bare chest. A steady heartbeat thumps in his ear.

"That's it, querido," Luis whispers. His voice has a rasp to it that suggests that he's just been rudely awoken as well. "You're safe now. It was just another dream."

Leon nods, not trusting himself to speak yet. His plaga curls up against his spine, offering its own kind of support, and he lets out a sigh of relief. It's still here, still alive. He hasn't lost anything. Concern radiates from it, a question left unsaid – they don't always share dreams, and it seems like it didn't have to deal with this one. Small mercies. Things are a lot easier when they aren't both in a panic.

He'll catch up with it later. For now, it's enough to know he isn't alone.

He burrows his way into the crook of the other man's neck, urged on by his plaga, letting Luis continue to soothe him. Before long, he relaxes enough for his mandibles to start chittering of their own accord, a soft and stuttering purr. The sound used to embarrass him beyond belief, but Luis has long since convinced him otherwise. As if to double down on the idea, he presses a kiss to the top of Leon's head.

"What time is it?" Leon asks, in lieu of anything more important.

Luis grunts as he angles himself to the side, glancing over at the alarm clock. Moving is hard work when you're pinned to the bed by a partner nearly twice your weight.

"Bright and early, just how you like it," Luis jokes. "It's 6.30, give or take a few minutes."

Leon groans. Shit. He's only been out for a couple hours. No wonder it feels like he hasn't slept at all.

With the blackout curtains they've got draped across the bedroom windows, it can be hard to tell what time of day it is. Without them, he'd never be able to match his new circadian rhythm, so it's a necessary evil. Not that it makes all that much difference in the depths of winter – it's January, and it's probably about as dark outside as it is in this room.

"Figures," he mutters back. "Sorry for waking you up."

He shivers. The sheets have shifted, leaving him exposed. He doesn't deal well with the cold anymore, and the past couple months have been pretty miserable. If it weren't for the nightmares – and more importantly, he supposes, all the time he'd miss out on – he'd rather just sleep through it. He once asked Luis if scorpions happened to hibernate, and he was only half-joking.

"None of that. You know it doesn't bother me," Luis says, and it's true. The man has a talent for falling asleep anywhere and everywhere he deems fit, despite the fact that his blood is about 50% coffee by volume. He adjusts the comforter, tugging it up to cover them properly. "Do you need me to turn the heat lamp back on?"

Leon shakes his head, clinging on tighter. A section of his tail wraps around Luis' leg, locking him in place.

"Nah. You're warm enough for all three of us," he answers, unwilling to admit that he can't bear the thought of Luis leaving right now, even for a moment. "Lamps are overrated. I've got my own personal furnace."

Luis laughs under his breath, leaning back to rest his head on his arm, propped up by the pillows behind him.

"I'm glad I can be of some use to you, I suppose." His sigh is wearier than it needs to be. Leon doesn't have to look up to know he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

He hums in consideration, and his hand pauses where it's still carding through Leon's hair.

"That being said, it's been a while since you've had a dream quite like that, hm? And… I'm not sure you were fully armed when we first went to bed," Luis points out, nudging the stinger of Leon's tail with his foot. Leon still has no idea how he can do that so casually, knowing everything that it's capable of. "A penny for your thoughts?"

He hadn't thought much of it, but Luis is right. He reined in his mutations before settling in for the night, blunting his sharper edges, flattening his tail – it makes it easier to sleep, especially now that he's sharing a bed full time. It takes effort, but it's worth it.

That dream, though… it must have had some subconscious effect, because he's back to his usual self. His default, his baseline. It's the first time he's had one quite like that; he's had more than his fair share of nightmares about his time in Spain, and a fair few distortions of everything that came after, but never anything about losing what got him here in the first place.

He isn't sure what to make of it. He's not all that keen on unpacking it, either.

"Pretty sure that'll cost you more than a penny," he says, sidestepping the question entirely.

Luis lifts him up by the chin, drawing him out of his hiding place.

"Ah, such a shame," Luis tuts. His phrasing knocks Leon off-kilter, but it's only for a split second. He's safe here. He knows that, even if his baser instincts haven't gotten the memo. "I'm sure I could think of a few other ways to pay, querido."

Leon resists the urge to roll his eyes when Luis finishes up his offer with a wink. It's such an obvious taunt, but he lets himself fall him for it. Exhaustion aside, he's desperate for a distraction – something, anything to keep his mind from wandering back to places it shouldn't.

He pushes upwards, meeting Luis halfway, catching his bottom lip between sharp teeth. It earns him a soft groan, and he's eager to draw out more noises like it. Shifting his weight, he flips them over with ease, leaving Luis panting as he leans over him. He looks down at Leon with a hunger that matches the agent's own, waiting with bated breath for whatever Leon says next.

"You'd better get on with it before I change my mind, then," Leon says, trying to sound unbothered, but the sway of his tail against the sheets gives the game away. "Are you gonna show me what you thought up, or not?"

They're both well aware he won't say a word about his dreams after they're done, but with Luis trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and already tugging down his waistband, Leon finds that he no longer cares. He's pretty damn sure he can find a way to convince Luis not to either.

Notes:

me, writing more dysphoria/institutional transphobia allegories? in THIS series? naur surely not I would never xo

the nature of this thing means I'm open to other prompts / things you might want to see! no promises obviously but. yeah. I'd be happy for more sources of inspiration to go alongside what I've already got listed ;w;

kudos/comments always super appreciated. oh and happy pride month let's goooo 🌈❤

tumblr || bsky

Chapter 2: acclimatize

Summary:

Being an overgrown scorpion has its pros and cons.

or;

a few short pieces set after Leon leaves the government lab, as he adapts to living in the outside world again. [2006]

Notes:

it's been a long few months! work has been absolutely killing my creativity recently BUT in much much better news I am now two weeks post top surgery 🎉 I'm finally free!!! (and, thankfully, also still free of work for another week!!!) so here's another one of these :)

this one is a lot more lighthearted overall than the first one was, mostly because that's just where I'm at mentally rn haha. I combined a few prompts I had in mind into one loosely related chapter. I hope you have as much fun with them as I did ❤😌 (and if there is any grammatical weirdness you'll have to forgive me, I'm still kinda out of it while I recover from surgery)

i.

 

Luis would like to think that he's handled the changes to his sleeping pattern with as much grace and patience as he could possibly be asked to give. The transition hasn't been too rough, all things considered.

Realistically, there's no one better suited to the role. For as long as he can remember, his circadian rhythm has been a suggestion, rather than a hard rule – why stick to anything as arbitrary as that when there's always more work to be done, always something more to experience in a given day? Life is better spent burning the candle at both ends. The consequences of that are a problem for his future self to solve.

That being said, he can't say that he appreciates being woken up to the sound of smashing tableware at just past 5am.

He groans, rolling over with about as much energy as he can muster, given his hour or so of sleep. Leon is no longer curled up next to him. After Luis rubs his bleary eyes and looks around, it becomes clear that the other man isn't in the room at all. At least that makes the source of the sound obvious. Even if that weren't the case, he isn't too worried – if anyone had the idiotic idea to break into their apartment, they would be in for the surprise of a lifetime.

It's a real effort to make the short walk out of the bedroom, across the hallway, and into the kitchen. With every step, he weighs up whether he should give in and make an early start on the coffee today... or perhaps it's simply a continuation of yesterday's caffeine intake, at this hour. Regardless of perspective, the idea is tempting.

Luis pauses in the doorway, peering into the dark beyond. A pair of glowing eyes stare back at him, but not a single word is said. Ah. So that's how it is.

His eyesight adjusts slowly. Leon is perched on the counter top, surrounded by what can only be described as food-based carnage. It seems to be the contents of their entire refrigerator, or at the very least, every bit of meat and protein. There are enough eggshells littered around to suggest that several cartons have met their tragic end. Luis sighs, already beginning to take mental notes of their future grocery list, though he supposes that's the least of his concerns right now.

Experience tells him not to turn on the kitchen lights in full. He heads over to the stove instead, flicking on the switch for its much smaller overhead light. Leon still recoils slightly.

"Hungry are we, cariño?" Luis says, leaning back for a moment, examining the scene now that it's easier to see. "I assume that might be why you've gotten him out of bed so early."

In response, all he gets is an insistent chitter, a tilt of the head. A shame. There's so much he can't quite understand from the plaga, not without Leon there to mediate – and as it stands, he very much isn't here to mediate. It certainly isn't the first time that Luis has seen something like this. He wishes there was more he could do to communicate with it, and it isn't just a matter of scientific curiosity. Alas, for now, all he can do is try his best.

He takes a step closer, masking his frustration at the mess. The last thing he wants to do is upset it. Leon's body language shifts; less guarded, less on the defensive. His tail swipes to the left, knocking a few stray eggshells onto the floor.

"Let me take a guess – he hasn't been eating enough, despite what I've been telling him, hm?" Luis reaches the counter. The plaga nods Leon's head for him, almost overeager, like it's just glad that someone else knows the struggle. "I can only imagine that you've been reminding him of this as well."

Another chitter, longer this time. Luis could swear that it sounds like a complaint. He laughs at the absurdity of it, running his hand through his hair. Inside and out, both of them are dealing with one of the most stubborn men on the planet, and even that isn't always enough to convince him to do anything. Perhaps they need to consider unionising.

"Now, I can see you've made a good start on correcting that. And that, eh, you even seem to have tried to make a sit down meal out of it," Luis says, side-eyeing the open cupboard and its contents that have lost their lives in the crossfire. "But why not let me help you both, now that I'm awake? There is a lot here that can be salvaged, if you'll allow me to try. We can be more efficient."

He offers up his hand. It only takes the plaga a moment to accept the gesture, hopping down from the counter with a heavy thunk that the downstairs neighbours are sure to love. Before he knows it, he's being swept up into a bone crushing hug.

His eyes widen, but he soon settles into the embrace, extra limbs and all. He threads a hand into Leon's hair, pulling his body closer. Without any embarrassment getting in the way to try and mute it, the plaga's low, rumbling purr comes out full force. Luis savours the sound.

This whole arrangement of theirs might be strange – and strange might well be the understatement of the century – but he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

---

 

ii.

 

"You know, scorpions dance before they mate," Luis tells him in a hushed tone, as if he's offering up some secret truth. "A promenade á deux, I think they call it. Fascinating, no?"

Leon stumbles through his next steps. He recovers pretty quickly, but not quickly enough to stop Luis noticing. The bastard just smirks, slipping his hand lower down Leon's waist.

"I could've sworn it was your idea to do this," he mutters back, looking away.

"And yet here you are. I expected you to say no, at least at first." Luis leans in closer. It's beyond distracting. "Did something else convince you? Does it feel right?"

He sighs in frustration. He can't deny that there's something instinctive to this. The music has faded into the background, practically forgotten, meaning nothing in comparison to the man right in front of him. He can't help but keep going off-script, ignoring the steps he's been given and substituting in a few of his own. Slowly, ever so slowly, they keep turning as one, moving in steady spirals.

So maybe Luis is right. What about it? Leon refuses to give him the satisfaction of finding out. Instead, he dips the researcher dangerously low, holding him suspended in place, looming over him.

"Y'know what I've heard? Sometimes, scorpions eat each other if they think the guy isn't worthy." There's something satisfying about watching Luis' throat bob as he swallows. It's hard to tell whether it's out of excitement or nervousness, but if he had to hazard a guess, it's the former. "There's a fun fact for you."

"What are you trying to say, querido?" A laugh, lacking some of its usual cockiness. "Do you not find me worthy?"

Leon leans down to kiss him, only pulling away when he's sure that Luis will be gasping for air, left even dizzier by the blood still rushing to his head.

"I don't know. Guess we'll have to find out." He pauses, taking in the sight with laser sharp focus. The music is well and truly forgotten now. "It's not like it matters. You'd be into it either way."

"Ah. You know me far too well."

 

 

---

 

iii.

 

Even through a solid pair of earplugs, the music in here is deafening. The bass reverberates through Leon's whole body, right down to the bone.

It's not exactly to his taste. Clubs like this were never his scene – drinking might have always been one of his vices, but he rarely ventures out to anything rowdier than the average bar. Hell, it's not like he's ever had the time. Dreams of enrolling in the police academy kept him on the straight and narrow for the most part, even as a troubled kid. And as for everything that came after, well…

His fingers tap against the wall behind him. He snorts, taking another sip of his whiskey. At least someone's enjoying themselves. His plaga has been distracted ever since they got here, wriggling in a way that once would've left him dizzy, legs skittering along his ribs in time with the beat. If his tail were out and free, he's pretty sure that would be swaying too.

It's hard to stay focused on the job when his better half is mesmerised by the lightshow. He tries his best regardless, squinting past a dizzying array of colours to once again spot Ashley in the crowd, surrounded by her friends, carefree and clearly still having a good night.

Despite everything, Leon smiles. If nothing else, it's a reminder that at least one of them gets to move on. Him, on the other hand? Even being here is a test, and he damn well knows it. It's a simple task in theory, framed like they're throwing him a bone – just one night on security detail to 'ease him back into things'.

Yeah, right. Tell that to the other agents in here, watching him like hawks, yet somehow failing to realise that he noticed them hours ago. Or better yet, to the security cameras that all seem to conveniently angle in his direction, no matter where he ends up. If it weren't for the fact that Ashley was the one who suggested coming here, he'd be convinced that the whole venue was a front.

It's obvious. They want to see whether he can be normal. They're itching to figure out whether they can toss him back in at the deep end, or god forbid, to prove that all of this has been a waste of time and money. It doesn't matter how hard he's worked to claw back his freedom. One wrong move, and he'll be back in his old cell. Maybe they'll skip right over that step and put him down for good.

He's been trying not to think too much about it. So far, he's failed miserably, and the whiskey hasn't helped one bit.

Ashley catches his eye from across the room, and she grins, waving at him. Before Leon can so much as wave back, she's already weaving her way through the crowd with all the grace of someone who's had just shy of one too many.

"Leonnnnnnnn!"

He pulls out one of his earplugs, trying and failing not to wince at the sudden influx of extra noise. Having sharper senses really isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Ready to go home already?" He has to shout to be heard. It puts more of a strain on his voice than it should. "Just say the word."

Ashley pouts, taking a hold of his forearms instead, swaying back and forth where she stands. It's hard to tell how much of the motion is her trying to keep steady, and how much is her just following the beat.

"What? No, you dork. It's only like… uh…" She trails off, glancing down at the cell phone in her pocket. Weighing up if it's worth checking the time, no doubt. "Well, whatever, who cares what time it is? I came over to ask if you wanted to dance. Honestly, I could hear you thinking too hard from all the way over there."

Caught red handed. Go figure.

"I'm working, remember?" Leon reminds her, and as if the world wants to prove his point, he has to pull her out of the way of some drunken douchebag stumbling past a second later. The way he moves is a little too zombie-like for comfort. "Head back to your friends. I'm fine. Besides, I've got two left feet. You wouldn't want to see me on that dancefloor."

That much has always been true. Whether he's on his mutated legs, or his painstakingly reconstructed human ones, he isn't any better at it now. Even Luis and his so-called 'lessons' didn't do much to help him improve.

"C'monnnnnn. Just one? For me? It'll be fun, I promise!" Ashley puts on her best puppy dog eyes, tugging his arms gently, as if that's going to convince him. "It doesn't matter if you—"

She glances down and gasps, cutting herself off.

"Doesn't matter if I what?" Leon follows her gaze. To his credit, he only flinches slightly at what he finds. "Huh. Shit."

The newly revealed gap between his gloves and long sleeves is glowing. Pale green, near enough to white, it stands out like a sore thumb next to the rest of his dark clothing. He pulls away from Ashley's grip, tugging his sleeves back down with shaking hands.

It doesn't make sense. He did everything right. His chitin is as close to disguised as it can possibly be. The only thing anyone should be able to see at a surface level is skin, so long as they don't look too closely, and he keeps his hands covered – his claws are a whole other problem. They're way harder to hide.

All of that effort, and for what? The UV lights overhead have exposed what lies beneath like it's nothing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Luis rattling off some fact about scorpions glowing in the dark. In hindsight, it feels less like trivia and more like a premonition.

You are ashamed of this, his plaga points out, its voice quiet but crystal clear. An observation without any judgement. Why?

He has no answer for that. Not a good one, anyway, because he knows he shouldn't be. It's such a small thing, but something about being out in public is hitting a raw nerve. He's overexposed, watched from every angle. Afraid that they'll know.

"I'm guessing that isn't body paint, right?"

Ashley's question pulls him back from his momentary spiral. He swallows down his panic, burying it as far as it'll go.

"Nah. It's all natural."

"That's pretty cool. I mean, I don't think you need to worry about it, like… have you seen everyone else in here?" She gestures at herself – all of her bright streaks of neon, every colour that fluorescent ink has to offer, layer upon layer of glowstick jewellery – and then out to the crowd. "If anything, you're the dimmest person in the room."

She's not wrong. Point taken – a little extra light in a place like this is probably the least of his worries.

"Is that meant to be a compliment?" He asks with just a hint of mock offence, now that he's back on more even footing. "I'm flattered. Didn't realise I was that dumb."

It takes Ashley a second to catch his meaning. He can practically see the gears turning.

"Hey! You know what I meant! Don't be like that." She prods him right in the stomach, and he laughs. Her frustration doesn't last long. A new idea strikes her, and she claps excitedly. "Oh! I know! I can help you fit in a bit better. It'll be great, just trust me."

Without waiting for Leon to answer, she slips some of the loosest bangles off of her wrists and right onto his, covering the boundary there with a shade of green that could mask anything underneath. She hangs a couple more glowsticks around his neck for good measure (to 'help balance out the look', she insists when he starts to grumble). For a final touch, she fishes around in her pocket for a paint pen, telling him to hold still while she reaches up, wobbling slightly. Two dots and a line are scrawled across his cheek, forming a lopsided smiley face.

"That's perfect. Now even if you keep scowling, you'll still have a smile on your face."

He can't help it. Said scowl gets deeper, which just leads to Ashley failing to hide a snort behind her hand. Still, he can't hold it against her. As he finally pushes off of the wall he's been leaning against this whole time, his expression softens.

"Sure. Thanks for the makeover, Ash," he says, and for the most part, he means it. "Now, did you still want me to get out there, or are we gonna hang out here all night?"

Fuck it. He'll push through it – the discomfort, the fear, the eyes on him. He's going to have to at some point, or none of this is ever going to work. If anyone ends up asking, he'll just give some half assed excuse that it was easier to get the job done this way. It's worth it just to watch Ashley's face light up with joy.

"You bet. Let's go already—you'd better not change your mind halfway, okay?"

Notes:

did I shoehorn in a UV rave just for the excuse to use the fun fact that scorpions glow in UV light. yeah maybe what about it. how was Ashley allowed to go to one given the [vague hand gestures] everything of it all? don't worry about ittttttttttt we keep it silly here ✨

I think I've roughly got another 2 or 3 of these left in me in the long run, looking at what's left on my prompt list that I think I can tackle. sorry if they continue to be pretty slow, life continues to come at me pretty fast, you know how it is. I really appreciate the love on the first chapter, as always it's a big part in what keeps me going with these things!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of aqua regia