She had tried to skim it on the way to the car, but only now, sitting in front of the wheel, could Judy fully read the case file.

If she could even call it that. The sheer proximity with which her fingers laid together grasping the document couldn't bring her to turn past the red cover page. The ZPD logo, resembling the badge she wore, seemed to take delight in staring back up at her. She tried to imagine the folder had more pages, but couldn't venture any further than the single digits. If she hadn't been so occupied over the past hour, maybe she'd have been in the headspace to ask Bogo just what in the name of cheese and crackers she was supposed to do with barely any information to start off with. She'd gotten lucky last time, what with everyone carrying around those pawpsicles, but something told her now would be different. Even if Bogo's answer was shooing her away loudly, she'd feel one less thing to blame herself with: failure to ask for clarification. Ears drooping, Judy lifted her gaze to the window, allowing herself a lapse in time before obligation would inevitably swoop back in. Between her and Nick, it wasn't the only thing she needed clarification on.

She felt her mind slide back to an instant replay of their argument. Concentration had never been a problem for Judy. From clocking in to going off-duty, she always held the task at paw above all else. Yet now, with Nick and all the complications he carried along sitting right beside her, the job softly screamed, from the furthest imaginable distance to a bunny, mundanity. Something made the case seem more like a process than an adventure. Even when her instincts pulled her head back so that her eyes returned down to the logo, she still managed to procrastinate opening the file until she heard the pages turning next to her. She glanced towards her right. Then her ears sprung up and she tore the document open. If her eyes hadn't deceived her, Nick was already a few pages in.

The force with which she swung open the folder almost brought her to the end of the entire document as the pages rattled through the air. If it hadn't been for the paperclip wrapped around the papers, they probably would have swung free like pendulums above the steering wheel. After a muffled groan, Judy slowly flipped back to the first page, but not before Squeak's mugshot caught her attention. If she hadn't known any better, those fangs would have looked more predatory. Fortunately, her afterthought reminded her that it was just his lack of dental hygiene that made him look all the more repulsive. By the time the first page flopped back into view, the sheet jingling silently down, the thought had escaped her mind.

Perhaps a little too quickly. It only took two glances, conveniently in the right places, to make Judy's expression freeze. After the interrogation, all kinds of mental images, some admittedly derogatory caricatures, of Franky Larry came up in Judy's mind. None of them, however, rightfully depicted him as a rabbit. It initially gave her a happy feeling. She could only wonder how much of his decision to run had been from that speech she gave. Up until then, no matter how often others talked it up, she had always come up short trying to understand the weight of her own words. But the sheer prospect of inspiring one of her own kind to chase the same goal she had been since youth called to her refreshingly. For a fraction of a second, making the world a better place never seemed so real.

If she had forgotten in that moment, the printing of yesterday's date and DECEASED in bold letters reminded her. She felt the urge to turn back to the last page. Glaring back at Squeak's photo wouldn't mean anything in the long run, of that she was sure. But maybe it'd satiate the thirst of her upcoming rage.

Momentarily, she managed to shove it aside, but only in favor of that which caused a frown to curve down her face. Larry had been murdered all the same. The more Judy tossed around the possibilities, no matter how far-fetched they were, the more her eyes watered. She would have taken the silent opportunity to let a sniffle pass through her twitching nostrils had it not been for the sound of slight movement close by.

"Relax," Nick said in a low voice. Wiping her eyes, Judy turned to him. Briefly, he tilted his snout upwards so that his eyes were level with hers, but subsequently inched them back to her file and then his own. "It's just a coincidence."

She didn't know what made her feel worse: Larry or the absence of that facetious smile to go along with Nick's attempted consoling. She asked in a soft, hopeless tone, "Why would someone do such a thing?"

"I'm afraid Dr. Gouda is out today. Would you like to speak to a psychologist of different species in the field?"

"Not...helping," Judy answered coldly. He wasn't looking at her, but she glared anyway.

Nick had brought his paw to his ears as if to mimic a secretary, but now he let it fall again. "Why not? I mean, it can't be that hard to analyze our perp in a few minutes. How about Dr. Whiskers?"

Now she just spat out a sigh. The better part of her wondered why she'd asked in the first place. Panning her eyes towards him again, she adjusted herself in the booster seat. Only the back of his neck and cap remained in her view. Perhaps she was just trying to see if they could put that incident behind them. The jokes hadn't stopped, it seemed, but it wasn't enough to convince her he was over it. The only antidote was some sort of recognition. Maybe it was the lack of time for either of them to breathe that was getting to both of them.

And the investigation hadn't even started. Judy stretched her limbs, distancing her legs from the gas pedal and her paws from the shiftstick. The silence from the car's dormant engine seemed to be mocking her at this point. The prospect of Bogo walking by flashed before her. Catching them red-pawed, doing nothing as the city cried out for answers.

"Either way." Nick's intonation rose up slightly, causing her ears to slowly swing upwards. He twisted his frame towards her as he closed his file promptly. "Before you start looking for motives, it's probably a good idea to look at the actual body, first. Didn't the Academy teach you not to jump to conclusions without all the info?"

She was far from in the mood, but was relieved Nick showed some drive to get the investigation underway. As such, she sat up straight, adjusting her limbs to the necessary mechanics for starting the engine. "You know? Maybe if Larry were a fox you'd understand. Then again, foxes are much too shifty to be mayor candidates nowadays, aren't they?"

"You've got that right," Nick replied, hoisting his seatbelt over his shoulder accordingly. "We'd much rather be cops who annoy our partners so much that they forget to buckle their seatbelt."

"I'm getting there. I haven't even started moving yet." She kept her glare on him as she clasped her paw around the clicker.

His face turned promptly, initially revealing a half-lidded smile. After a pause, as if he were taking a moment to register how genuine her anger was, it curved slightly upwards. "Just looking out for ya, Carrots."

As usual, the aftermath seemed to be affecting her more than it did Nick. Of course, mammals could only betray their long-time mantra for so long. The worst part of her conscience, however, ensured her he was trying to make her forget about everything, too. The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became that he'd try to push the focus of the investigation on Squeak instead of him .

She hadn't even stopped once to consider that she had already gone against Bogo's orders. If Nick really did have a criminal past, at least he had the decency to stop his activity completely before turning over a new leaf. Here Judy was, going against her word in a matter of seconds. As soon as she had pulled out her phone to call Nick to that coffee shop, the jig was up. Bogo had to have seen it, her still having been in his office and whatnot. As much as Judy liked to think he wasn't as smart as he let on, she knew that he'd be hounding her if this whole thing didn't go smoothly.

After a pause and brief stare at Nick, Judy turned the key and moved her arm to the shiftstick. "The autopsy should be long done by now."

"Then what are we waiting for, partner?"

Only the last few rays of the sun made their way through the glass and steel bars of Shamper Prison, into a room that seemed conveniently devoid of life. The walls and ceiling were painted entirely white, offering a sharp contrast to each of the guards' black uniforms. They also made the blue, narrow bookshelves and the scattered round tables stand out all the more. Even the guards felt at odds, as the library wasn't normally this quiet or empty. It was usually around this time that the male inmates would start to roll in after lunch. The sounds of soft whispers and page-turns would ricochet off the walls and spread around the room with ease. But now, the only audible sound came from someone sweeping the floor in an irregular rhythm.

Squeak adjusted his grip on the broom, his little claws wrapping around the long, yellow handle. For whatever reason, the guards wanted him here. They not only had assigned him the job immediately after moving in, but had also decided that library cleaning duty was the most suitable task for him. He had tried to tell the guards that he'd be better in the cafeteria, but they wouldn't change their minds.

Nonetheless, with little else to do than waiting for the right moment to approach Bellwether, Squeak had started to find some enjoyment in his newfound job. For one, it was probably much easier to clean the library than the showers. What's more, he could secretly stash some of the smaller pieces of litter back in his cell. He reckoned that if he started enjoying the job a little too much, it would serve as a good reminder that he was nothing more than a filth-loving rat.

On the second day, he had already started getting used to it. The sound of the broom sweeping across the floor was so soothing and calming that he could easily make out the footsteps suddenly getting louder. Just when he was about to start whistling, too. No matter though, as it was probably just a guard coming to check up on him. It had already happened last time, when he got around to cleaning the narrower, more-concealed areas of the library. Hoisting the broom so that it stood vertically on the ground in one paw, he took the other to wipe his brow. He finally turned around - only to realize that he should have done so much sooner.

"Who are you?" He heard the somewhat familiar voice exclaim before he had any chance to react. It took Squeak a moment to register the figure in front of him. He was usually good at reacting quickly, but this time he was completely taken aback. His heart was already pounding rapidly. Once he finally realized who was standing before him, it accelerated even more. That mane of fluffy wool was unmistakable.

"Answer my q-"

"Former Assistant Mayor Bellwether!" he exclaimed, managing to cut her off. She didn't relent, letting a snarl pass through her teeth. As if it were a habit, he frantically panned his head around, only to find that she had quite literally backed him into a corner.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" She asked, a grinchlike expression spreading across her face. "Figured you would have seen me coming, vermin."

He was still startled, but he managed to find a hint of distaste in his mouth. The broom's thin handle, free from his grasp, slid across on of the shelves until it landed on the floor. The sound of its fall broke the silence between them faster than Squeak could with his retort. "Of course not, madam."

"Who are you? Full name."

Still trying to hold onto that resentment, he spat out, "They call me Chuck."

"First and last." She wasn't even moving. He felt her breath brush across his fur so warmly that he momentarily forgot he was the predator. After some more hesitation, he finally complied. All he had to do was repeatedly remind himself it would be worth it if they could strike a deal.

"Toddson."

"Good rat." The smile widened even more. "And why are you here?"

At least they were easy questions. In fact, it was one Squeak could afford to answer somewhat charmingly. "They say I killed a mayor candidate."

"I know that, you imbecile." Bellwether ducked downward with a light growl, bringing a hoof to her forehead. "I mean why are you here right now ? What do you want from me?"

His disdain grew larger, manifesting itself in his firmer tone. "Madam, if you would so kindly give me some space so I can properly explain." He was about to add a snide comment about her breath, but his cautious side stopped him just in time.

Surprisingly, her posture reclined slightly and she took two steps back. That uncomfortable, hot feeling was finally allowed to release its grasp on Squeak. He managed to take a breath that returned his heart rate mostly to normal. If he were any less clever, he probably would have assumed she was backing down. Yet her expression hadn't changed, and he'd be an idiot to think it was going to get easier from here.

Maybe all the media coverage on her had gotten to his head. Most reporters had shrugged her off after her arrest, uttering words like "bonkers," "despicable," and, most of all, "senseless." Apparently, all it took was a little bit of sadism to realize she was so much more. When Squeak first saw her on that television screen, he conjured up a term closer to "manipulative megalomaniac" within a matter of seconds. It'd taken him almost no effort to come up with such a descriptor, yet here he stood surprised at how she'd just popped up on him like that. He should have expected no less. It was as if she had been calculating his every move, down to the air that flowed through his snout. It certainly seemed that way when she spoke before he could even utter a word.

"Why don't you start with whom you're working for?" Although it had been phrased as a seemingly innocuous question, her tone was no less scathing.

"Erm," Squeak started. "Well, he's somebody who wants power, like you."

"What's his name?"

"Everybody calls him Il Muro. I fear I am only familiar with his alias."

Bellwether didn't respond immediately. She furrowed her brow slightly and tilted her head. "Who is he?"

Squeak shrugged. "To the best of my knowledge, he is rather familiar with the crime that occurs in this city. If you ask me, though, I would say he is looking to achieve a little more than what an ordinary criminal could. hehe."

"Go on."

"Let's just say, your assistance would be appreciated. I doubt any other mammal could match your political clout, what with all the connections and experience you must have in this city. In fact, I reckon you know quite a few tidbits of information in the political sphere, things the public couldn't possibly know! Likewise, I'd wager you still know many people in the profession, including those that might blow their whistles if they smell something suspicious. If some naughty secretary is trying to foil our plans, we could find out...with a snap of your-."

Eyes almost magnetizing to her hooves, he huffed in annoyance at his mistake. Her expression hadn't changed, despite his attempt to praise her. "You do get my point, I'm sure. Someone to...make sure we don't step on the wrong paws when we make our political advances."

Whatever intimidation he felt had been slowly fading since he'd first gotten her to back off. After he finished his grand offer, not only was that feeling gone, but he finally felt like he was in control again. The confidence with which he was able to convey the urgency to have her on board was the last bit of reassurance for him that Bellwether could only be so intimidating. She had even kept quiet, save for the sudden but light whistling sound that had come from her mouth in the middle of his speech. He had just barely heard it, but was too concentrated on invoking the proper intonation on his rhetoric. Once he saw through Bellwether's act, he felt no less like the witty rat he always had been.

This made it fully surprising when he suddenly felt both arms pulled and twisted behind him. He only had time to gasp for air before the force behind him jerked him up so that he was hanging. Lifted easily by the wallaby that had appeared behind him, he tried kicking with his feet but that only prompted Bellwether to extend a hoof to the tip of her mouth in exaggerated fashion. Her whisper reeked of that high pitch that Squeak had no trouble recognizing as that which she used when she was trying to put on a sweet facade. "Oh, you should be more quiet! We don't wanna alert anyone, right?"

The worst part was that he knew she had played him. Toyed with him, in fact. Almost as if she had let the guard in on her plan in advance. She'd give him the slightest bit of comfort, and then yank it back with a single quiet whistle. He hadn't been in the prison for long, but he nearly thought the wardens would have a harder time gathering all the staff up for the day. He let his legs fall as he hung by the unrelenting force of the arm that effortlessly pinned him up against the wall.

Bellwether stood quiet, allowing silence to float momentarily before she finally spoke with a more relaxed, yet still caustic tone. "So you really did have a reason for killing the mayor, didn't you? Golly, and here I thought you were one of those psychopathic predators, all hollow on the inside. Turns out, you're just a little thug who's up to his balls in a plan with a group where he's the puppet."

"E-excuse me!" He'd shouted it, but even he could hear his tone growing childish. All that suaveness had disintegrated. It only made the wallaby's grip tighten and Bellwether's smile widen even more. He tried again. "I'll have you know I'm one of the only animals the boss directly communicates with!"

"Oh, well I'm sure you're highly valued in his book. Oh, look, he even let you do his crimes for him! Do you even get anything for taking the fall?"

"Yes," he replied meekly.

"Oh really? And what's that, vermin?"

Now he was unmoved. Doing his best to straighten his posture while held in the air, he whispered, "I get to go home."

In the rectangular, red-lit room the only sound Judy heard was that of dripping water at about a car's length away from her. Daring to glance up from the casefile she hadn't had much time to read all that objectively, she eyed the pathologist's assistant. The anteater, dressed in a slightly bloodied white gown, reached to his side for a new piece of equipment periodically. Every few seconds, Judy would hear metal jingle and water splash against it. Perhaps it wasn't very environmentally friendly to have the water on for so long, but the flowing noise soothed Judy in a way that helped her think.

But it wasn't enough to distract her from her rapidly twitching nose. Through sheer memory and Nick's teasing - although she'd hate to give him credit - she'd never forgotten what working at Bunnyburrow had felt like. As proud as her parents were of her accomplishments in Zootopia, the ultimate goal for a member of the Hopps family had always been and always would be to farm. At this point Judy was sure her sisters had surpassed her in that department, but that didn't mean the smell of rotten carrots would suddenly start to bother her. Growing up on the farm, funky smells were ordinary. While visitors never failed to scrunch up their faces or even gag, Judy never saw it as any different from a breath of fresh air. If anything, it was the smell of pollution in Zootopia that needed some getting used to.

But the scent of fresh blood certainly didn't seem to fall under the "unnoticeable" category. Maybe it was just the aura of death, or, quite frankly, general stress about the whole case. The only comforting feeling was the thought of how Nick had a much grosser view of the corpse, whether that was to somehow give her satisfaction or signal that she shouldn't be complaining in the first place.

When the doctor had asked them if they wanted to look at the body, she declined almost too quickly. Her instincts had often been good this past week. Hell knows they got her through most of her conversation with Bogo and Nick earlier that day. Yet here they were, eerily reminding her of how automatic reaching for the pepper spray had felt with Nick back at that press conference. Speaking of Nick, it seemed as though his instincts had him practically jumping from his seat and striding to the morgue moments ago. Even after he had ensured Judy that they couldn't afford not to be thorough in a case where they barely had a lead, she couldn't budge. If it hadn't been for Nick's apparent excitement to take a look, she figured he'd probably have said something he was now saving for the car ride out of here.

The more time she spent looking at the casefile, the more justifications her mind conjured up for choosing not to look. For one, she truly did need more time to read. On the other paw, she doubted she'd be useful for the job, anyway. There was no possible way they'd find something the doctor couldn't. Although, she had to admit, Nick had a point, at least as far as him seeing the body was concerned. Coming from a family of rabbits, she grew up having been told about all the "evil" tools foxes had at their disposal. Night vision, easy time finding prey, and, particularly useful for this case, good sense of smell. Given that, it was easy for Judy to convince herself that if Larry's corpse for whatever reason did have a distinct scent, Nick would have a better idea of what it could mean. That is, if she could even pick anything up with that twitching nose.

As much as the excuses and the soothing sound of dripping water could have helped her, only when she realized how much time she was wasting could she finally put her head down and simply absorb everything on the paper. Once she actually started reading for real, she felt no incentive to so much as even bat an eye towards the door. The old Judy wouldn't have recognized her flaw of getting emotional at the worst times, but damn it if she was going to let that stop her from solving the next big case. Somehow, once the water came to a stop, she'd managed to read everything. What's more, she felt confident that she'd ace any sort of recollection quiz on it. Incidentally, the anteater began walking towards her. She had to admit, there must have been no better way to test her knowledge than to have a productive discussion about the victim's autopsy with the very mammal that helped conduct it.

Judy promptly adjusted her posture in the chair, just small enough for her to rest her paws across the arms. The assistant slightly shook his snout up and down, as if it were his way of greeting her, before he spoke.

"I must admit, I am surprised your partner is taking as long as he is in there." With one paw, he fished out a scribbled-on notebook and a pair of glasses. Noticing the latter was smudged in red, he nonchalantly breathed over the spot and rubbed at it with a damp spot on his lab coat. He rest the glasses on his nose and flipped through the pages with one paw until he stopped to look back at her again.

After initially restraining a more-than-disgusted reaction, Judy let her eyes scan past the assistant and through the glass circle of the door down the hallway, where she could see Nick looking downwards intently. She squinted for a moment, as if the circle would lower itself to expand her view of the morgue, then sighed and continued gazing at the assistant. Her apparent curiosity for things which she declined to participate in had briefly overtaken her. "I am, too."

"Especially when there is absolutely no reason to be so thorough," the assistant said, as if Judy hadn't spoken a word. Fiddling around with his notebook to the point where Judy heard the rattling loud and clear, he finally dug out a pen from his other pocket and scribbled something down. "I reckon the only information that could help you is the type of poison used. As far as I'm aware your friend might have good scent but certainly not the x-ray vision to see through blood."

Judy tried to speak louder this time. "Well-"

"If he did have it, however, he would easily be able to make out a well-known poison. Granted, for scientific purposes dimethylmercury is becoming more and more obsolete as the years go on, but I imagine a criminal with a low budget would have no problem acquiring all the materials."

"Why?"

"They're very easy to find. Mercury...as toxic as it is, is held in thermometer bulbs. Lithium is found in batteries. In actuality all it takes is a small bit of synthesis knowledge to make an organometallic like-"

"So it's easy to find the ingredients and to make?" Although she had interrupted him, she'd tried to sound more gentle by leading into her sentence slowly. It didn't manage to stop the assistant from shooting her somewhat of an annoyed look, but he brought himself to answer her question.

"Well, not necessarily. Mercury is no average element. It's extremely toxic. It was last used for ordinary purposes by a young deer who died after the smallest droplet touched her skin. Sure, it took ten months, but she was wearing gloves and it still managed to seep through her fur and reach her brain. I imagine that whoever made this batch not only had the attire to protect themselves fully, but also a lab with the proper disposal materials for such a toxic compound. So while the ingredients are easy to find, it's not like animals could cook this up in their kitchen."

Judy was no longer staring at him. As soon as he had replied with the negative to her question, she'd immediately started scrambling for the notebook and pen stuffed somewhere on her belt. Fortunately, the anteater wasn't the fastest talker. By the time he was done with that sad, yet most likely irrelevant history lesson, she had jotted down some notes about the compound, as well as its difficulty to create. Pressing the clicker of her pen to her lips, she thought out loud in her procedural tone, "Hmm, you would think this would be made more often, even if you do need a high-tech place."

"Officer, all due respect, but you clearly underestimate the severity of such a chemical. Every time you go anywhere near it, you risk your life. I'd even venture to predict that if that compound wasn't completely sealed near the crime scene, we'll be getting more bodies from there months from now. Acquiring a lab that is able to handle such a chemical is extremely exp-"

"And forgive me," Judy interrupted. Taking her eyes off her notebook and staring at him with a smile that she couldn't even be sure was entirely sincere. "I don't think I have the best perspective. It just so happens that on the last case Officer Wilde and I worked on, we raided the lab that held the Nighthowler serum. I mean, I don't suppose that's what the average lab looks like, right? Are we really safe to assume this poison is stronger than the very chemical that spread chaos throughout the city?"

All it took was for the anteater to furrow his brow to make her realize she may have gone a little over the top, whether it was by unintentionally bragging about her accomplishments or perhaps getting a little snarky. Given how the assistant had been speaking to her, the latter seemed more probable. But before she could ask herself exactly why she had turned so defensive, he spoke.

"That depends. were proper safety materials used?"

"Like?" She wasn't afraid to get into specifics. Doug's lab was probably her most memorable image for the entire Missing Mammals Case. After all, that was when they found what they were looking for - the sign that all the running around Tundratown and prying information out of the likes of Duke Weaselton was starting to pay off. Funnily enough, the prospect of that seemed like a miracle this time.

"Well, what was the scientist wearing?"

"He was wearing a thick yellow jumpsuit."

"Was he wearing a mask?"

"Yes. Tight strap on with a crystal-clear screen."

"Gloves?"

"Um," Judy hesitated, but for a reason other than failure to remember. "No."

"Then no. He would be dead or dying by now," he replied coldly. Adjusting the glasses that rest on his nose, he turned his attention to the notebook again. "Are you certain? No gloves at all? I'm sorry but what kind of scientist was he?"

"He's a convict now," Judy said casually.

That made the assistant peel his eyes off his writing. They lingered in the air for a while before slowing down so that he seemed to not be looking at anything in particular. "Oh. I suppose that's right. Well, I would expect this scientist to have a little more knowledge, even though it may very well be that same rat we saw on the television."

Judy raised her brow in wonder, allowing her stare to gaze off towards the door of the morgue again. Nick would probably have far more informed opinions on that. If Squeak really was reckless enough to accidentally kill one of his own back home, the odds of him having a proper lab, much less the common sense to deal with a poison of this caliber, seemed slim. She muttered, "I wish it would be that easy."

As if she had been calling out to him, Nick then emerged. The noise he made by slamming the door against the wall brought the assistant to swerve his head around. Judy had already been looking at him with a raised eyebrow. At least he wasn't covered in anything.

The assistant perked up before Judy could speak. "Ah! There you are. I was getting worried the doctor would have to pull you out soon. We have another one scheduled two minutes from now."

"I'm deeply sorry," Nick said charmingly, stepping out of the hallway and leaning against its front wall. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"Did you find anything?" She said it a little more firmly than she had planned, but couldn't blame herself after such a comment. Even if it was typical Nick, there was a line that she'd have to define with him if this were to keep going on.

"Nope. Not even a red herring."

The assistant spoke up again, only this time he tore out a couple of scribbled-on pages in his notebook. With one paw, he passed them on to Nick, and with the other he pulled off his glasses. "I would assume the doctor filled you in sufficiently."

"Of course." Carefully, he took the pages from the anteater, briefly skimming it over. The anteater started to speak once Nick's eyes returned to him.

"I'm afraid you two both have a lot of work to do."

For lack of a better phrase, the situation has kind of sucked. I remember when I made that all-too hopeful comment on the last chapter outlining my plan to get back into the swing of things once vacation came along. That's not to say I didn't use my breaks to write, but to put it in perspective I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with my courses and things going on in real life. I had to take a step back from writing. As often as people encouraged me to keep working on it in Discord, simply put the hectic route my life was taking kind of put a wrench in everything from creativity to commitment level.

I don't know how often chapters are going to come out after this. If one thing's for sure, I really shouldn't be making promises or ETAs because of how unpredictable my life really is when it comes to work and school. In an attempt to change the tone, however, I will say that I have had the grace of being invited to a small writing group whose members hold themselves accountable to write regularly. I definitely wouldn't have been able to do anything of the sort last semester, but this one has been a little more gentle on my cortisol levels so I've found some time to sit down at least once a week.

If you have been reading since the first chapter or have decided to catch up, I fully understand you might have some questions, all of which I'll probably have no problem answering for you. For that reason I've revived my tumblr page that I used to use back in my Undertale fluff days: (please ignore the cheesy reblogs and comments I made years ago). You're welcome to ask me questions about where I've been or about the story. That, or feel free to drop a comment here, too. I'll respond to either.

As much as I'm telling myself I owe everyone an apology, I wouldn't have done anything differently besides being a little more honest with how much time I could realistically put into writing chapters while struggling with courseloads. The amount of support I've gotten up to this point is just as overwhelming as it was months ago, if not more now. To know how far this has actually come gives me hope and so much more self-confidence than I've ever felt.

And yes I have done a lot more thinking during these few months about the directions the story should take, and it feels very comforting to know somewhat how it's going to play out.