shoutout the guy in this bagel shop wearing an arthur bryant shirt idk if you’re a richmond supporter or just from kansas city but either way ggs

My Editing Process 

Part 1/3 - Big Picture Stuff

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

Baseline

This is my process for novella- or novel-length projects (so around 40-100k words). I don’t write short stories, so I don’t know how applicable it will be. I’m currently editing Gifts of Fate, trying to shave off a couple of thousand words, and I’ll be pulling examples from it.

I’m a pantser and an overwriter who loves checklists. I know that my early drafts include scenes that explore the characters and the setting, but don’t contribute enough to earn their keep – this isn’t applicable to everyone. I also write in 3rd person multi-POV, hence references to switching POV.

In this project, I also aim for a crisp, direct style, with minimally flowery descriptions.

I start this process when my draft is in the following state:

After I’ve replaced all [[foreshadow this]] and similar comments, added all the skipped segments, etc.

After I let the manuscript rest for a couple of months

When the overall plot is highly unlikely to change. I.e. the sequence of events/plot beats is set in stone. I may consider reframing them or rewriting from someone else’s POV, but I won’t change the direction of the story.

Big-picture stuff first

I can’t stress this enough, do this before you get into the nitty gritty line edits. You don’t want to pore over a chapter for hours, only to realise it has to be cut – and all the effort you put into editing will be thrown away.

The goal of this pass is to bring out the best parts of the story, make the focus crystal clear, and make sure everything gels together.

I make a copy of the manuscript and make sure you have the old one stored away. I often refer back to it, to see if I like how a chapter has changed.

The outline

I write a bare-bones outline, no more than a phrase per 2k words – the shorter the better.

The way I do it is to put that as the title of each chapter – chapters for me tend to average just over 2k words. E.g. in GoF, the first few chapter titles are: ‘The Rupture’, ‘The Sword’, ‘The Cutthroat’, ‘The Sergeant’, [redacted], ‘The Windmill’, ‘The Threat’, ‘The Investigation’, ‘The Plan’. Not catchy, but pinpointing the focus of each.

It’s important that each point corresponds to a similarly sized chunk of text, so that I can spot when there are long sections where not much or too much happens – this will highlight issues with pacing.

If I’m not sure what to put in the title, it’s an indication that it might be one of those meandering, unfocused chapters. I gather a list of those, to pay more attention to them.

It also helps me identify the goal of each chapter. This is the part where I’d consider reframing or even rewriting a chapter from someone else’s POV, if the current structure shifts the focus away from what it’s supposed to be about.

Two examples:

In one chapter, I had a regular POV character (Ianim) check in on the protag’s family, and the protag’s sister (Marta) filled him in on how her magical powers had manifested a few days earlier. The intended goal of the chapter: tell the reader about the powers. What it ended up being: by framing it as a conversation between them, the focus was on their dynamic. Solution: rewrite the chapter from Marta’s POV and present the events that led to her powers manifesting as they happened, rather than retrospectively talking about them.

Later on, the protag (Lissan) is on the run and struggling to survive, while feeling that he should be saving the world, not just himself. He gets a stern talking to from an old man. The intended goal of the chapter: Lissan gets over his dilemma, and makes a decision to save himself, then make the world a better place. What it ended up being: the old man’s backstory stole the spotlight Solution: spend more time on the dilemma, especially before the storytime, and less on the backstory – I want to keep it, because it serves a subplot, but I can shorten it by a few sentences. 

Meandering Chapters

With that done, I read over the manuscript one more time, focusing especially on the chapters identified as meandering, and skipping the ones with clear plot beats. I know events like the big fights, first meetings, etc. definitely won’t be cut.

In my case, a lot of these are consecutive chapters composed of 2-3 vignettes, which come up when characters spend a period of time in one place, e.g. taking time to train or make preparations. They’ll be composed of scenes with low-stake actions, some exposition, and some exploration of characters and their dynamics. I want this project to be a fairly fast-paced fantasy adventure, but these slice-of-life scenes slowed down pacing too much. They are usually identified as meandering, since each scene/vignette has its own goal, but they aren’t strung together.

I Marie Kondo the hell out of them. I list what’s the purpose of each scene, and what I lose if I cut them out – this can be a mental exercise. Will cutting each one in turn leave the reader confused? Sometimes, all the reader is losing is an additional bit of characterisation. This is how I discovered I had two chapters showing the same two characters spar, each from one of their POVs, and the only purpose the first one fulfilled was to show that one of the characters didn’t like cold weather. Yep, that got cut.

Then, anything that's set up but doesn't have a pay off UNLESS it's a deliberate red herring. The length of the set up should be proportional to how crucial to the main plot is the pay off.

E.g. I had two conversations where in the first one the protag was told that demons react to the colour red, and in the next one he found a red ribbon to put on his Sword. And that was the last mention of it. The first mention stayed as flavour, the second conversation got cut.

And I know I need the red ribbon there in the second book of the trilogy, but it really can appear closer to when it's needed – i.e. in the second book. In general, I'm weeding out set up for later instalments which are easy to forget.

Repetitive Chapter Structure

I group chapters by structure, especially paying attention to the cases when:

Characters sit around discussing a plan, with the dialogue being a civil discussion all the way through. I know I have a tendency to do exposition through pages of dialogue. I don't want to have more than 2-3 of these across 50 chapters, and I want them spaced out.

A character fills others in on events they don’t know about. This can be either 'you weren't around when this happened to me' or 'this is a legend you (and especially the reader) needs to know, to understand the rest of the story'. I want to make sure there’s at most 1 of these in my novel.

How many of each you want in your manuscript, depends on its length and genre – I’m going for a fantasy adventure with a fair bit of action, so I cut down on the dialogue-heavy or research chapters, in favour of action scenes.

If in either of these categories I have more than what I want, I try to change the setting, or sprinkle in some action – for example, talking while doing shopping or renovating a house. Sometimes, a large chunk of the conversation can be skipped with a 3-5 sentence summary paragraph – and yes, in cases like this exposition might be the lesser of two evils. I also make sure the similar chapters are spaced out, with a change of pacing or setting between them.

This is where I stop tinkering with the story on my own – if I go on further, I don’t have the confidence that my changes are making it any better.

Part 2: Ctrl+F'ing the manuscript

Requested tag: @galactic-mystics-writes

Mine - kinktober - day 18

Jimin X reader

Yandere warning

I do not condone the behaviour of Jimin in this fic it is purely fictional. Is this is not for you please check out the other kinktober fics I have, none of the other 17 are yandere related

F!masturbation f!oral

It is the first time in a long time you and all of your friends have managed to get away. Six of you had rented a three-bedroom villa in Cyprus. Roommates had been decided long before the trip had even begun

“I get to stay with Y/N” Jimin had called as soon as the reservation had been booked. You laughed at his eagerness. The two of you had been best friends for the longest time it had seemed like the obvious choice, but it was nice to have the reassurance. You had met Jimin while you were in high school, the two of you had attended different institutions but somehow you’d kept bumping into him – at sporting events he’d be there, randomly in town he’d be there, at the most obscure parties he’d be there sipping a drink eyes meeting yours whenever you walked in the room. You’d always joked that fate just wouldn’t let you not be friends. Actually, before you truly became friends you had attempted to make a move on him. Beyond drunk in some football players back garden, you clumsily dropped hints and tried to kiss him. Instead of taking advantage he just took you home. After that, your friendship was solidified. You never really broached the way you’d acted that night. It was buried deep in the rich history of your relationship.

Once settled in the villa, the six of you were lounging around the pool trying to decide what to do that night.

“We could go for a meal? Couple of cocktails? Nothing big we did just get here” someone suggested.

“Oh come, we should definitely go crazy, lets go skinny dipping on the beach” another proposed. Jimin’s gaze fell to you waiting to see how you’d react to the suggestion. He wanted nothing more than to see you naked, but he didn’t want others prying eyes to see you that way. You should be his… only his.

“How about we go half crazy half chill and go clubbing?” your idea coming as a happy medium, the group nods in agreement. You and the other two girls in your group rush to shower and prepare, readying yourself for selfie upon selfie in beach themed clubs. The guys however hang back soaking in the remaining rays before spending considerably less time preparing for the evening.

Once on the clubbing strip it doesn’t take you long to lose most of the group. You make plans to meet back at the taxi rank at 1am and everyone is gone, the boys running in the direction of the bar offering the cheapest beer, the girls into the bar with the hottest guys. You glance along the line of bars and decide on the one in the middle after seeing a girl walk out with the fanciest cocktail you’d ever seen.

You make your way to the bar and order the fruitiest drink on the menu before making yourself comfortable on a barstool to wait. This bar seems to be relatively quiet in comparison to some of the others. It also provides a nice vantage point for you to watch the world go by, occasionally seeing your friends go with it. Not normally one to stray without at least one friend around it makes a nice change of pace. When your drink arrives, you find yourself chatting with the charming bartender in between his customers. He tells you all about what the locals get up to when the tourists disappear. They have huge beach bonfires with tons of food and drink that go on well into the next morning. He even invites you to the next one they were planning a week from now, just before you leave. The two of you are chatting for hours, you get through six of those cocktails before you even realise you are drunk. Its well passed 1am when Jimin finds you still sat there.

“Y/N” the worry is evident on his face as he approaches you “We were so worried why weren’t you at the meet up point? Why didn’t you answer your phone” you glance at the long abandoned electronic.

“I’m sorry Chim I didn’t realise” your words slur slightly, and you can see the anger flash behind his eyes. You mistake it for anger at you for not keeping your promise. You hop down from your perch on the stool and lose your footing. Jimin catches you before you fall and keeps his arm secured around you. He starts to lead you away but not before you can give the bartender your number. Jimin delivers you to the rest of your friends before heading back into the bar, claiming to need the bathroom.

He marches up to the bar seething

“How could you let her get like that” he spits at the guy you had been talking to.

“Dude she’s a big girl, she can handle herself” he just shrugs it off and turns to go back to other customers but the singer isn’t finished.

“You don’t know her like that! You should’ve just left her alone. She doesn’t need a pretty boy like you in her life” the other man is at least half a foot taller than Jimin and twice as broad, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how careless he had been letting you out of his sight, letting someone else flirt with what was his. Luckily, the bartender just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Look she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend, ill back off it’s all good” he puts his hands up in surrender and Jimin accepts, if only because it will start to look suspicious if he is away too long. That and he has already been away from you long.

The next few days are filled with uneventful beach days and house parties. You were gutted that the cute guy hadn’t texted but moved on regardless. Today the boys were supposed to go off and play golf or something, honestly you had kind of zoned out when they started talking, thinking of all the things you could do when you finally had your bedroom alone for a few hours. Of course, it was great sharing with your best friend, but there are certain itches you were unable to scratch with someone else in the room.

You waited until they had been gone for a while before excusing yourself and drawing a bath in the ensuite in your room. You sink into the water and allow the heat to loosen your muscles. Your music is blaring through your headphones to block out the other girls having a water fight downstairs. You stretch one leg over the bath to give yourself better access and start to imagine all the dirty things you would have done to that bartender given the chance. It’s not long until your thoughts drift to the friend you swear you only thought of platonically.

The boys return from their trip earlier than planned, the golf course was closed for the day, so they had gone for lunch instead. Jimin headed straight upstairs, assuming you’d be outside with the others. The sight he is greeted with makes him immediately hard. You’d left the bathroom door open, enjoying the breeze from the AC mixing with the steam from the water. The sounds tumbling from your lips were sinful. Jimin’s hand move almost involuntarily to his bulge, palming himself through the thin material of his board shorts. Moans that mimic yours pour out of his mouth, getting so loud you can hear them through your music. You cease your motions, but Jimin is so caught up in the thought of you he doesn’t notice until you scream.

“Jimin!” you shout throwing a shampoo bottle at his head as punishment for perving. But he doesn’t leave. In fact, he comes straight in and replaces your hand with his own. You are so shocked by the daring action your convinced it’s a dream. That you’ve fallen asleep in the tub fantasizing about him, and it manifested in your unconscious mind. That is until you realise even your brain couldn’t make you feel this good. His thumb rubbed expertly at your clit as two of his fingers explored your hole, curling in just the right ways. His eyes never once leave yours, daring you to ask him to stop. You don’t think you could if you wanted to, your mouth too busy moaning at every thrust of his hand.

Your orgasm comes quickly with the new assistance, and as you come down you really take in the situation.

“Jimin…” you start but your cut off as he lunges forward lips on yours. The kiss is desperate, almost like there’s something to prove. You return the passion, emotions from that drunk night many years ago resurfacing. He pulls away breathing heavily, unwilling to take his hands off your body. The body you are suddenly aware is naked, as if he didn’t have his hand on your most private area just moments ago. The blood rushes to your cheeks as you bite at your lip, unsure of where to go from here. You opt to go with whatever he chooses to do next. He feels around a pulls the plug out of the tub before bringing forward a fluffy white towel and wrapping it around you.

He carries you from the bathroom and places you on the small sofa in the corner of your shared room, before kneeling in front of you and looking at you like an eager puppy waiting for a walk. His hands trail up your thighs and you open them for him. He takes in the sight of your puffy lips, as if committing them to memory. Then with little hesitation his head surges between your legs, lapping hungrily at your sex, lewd whines leaving his mouth in time to the sounds being drawn from your own lips.

“This should be mine, all mine.” The vibrations of his voice only add to your pleasure “If you needed help you should’ve told me. This all I’ve wanted since I first saw you, all I’ve worked towards” the words don’t fully register in your blissed-out state “I want…. to please you… for you to need me… for you to be mine.” He punctuates each sentence with kitten licks to your pussy. Three fingers have now worked their way inside you and your struggling to focus on his confession, all you know is this feels right.

“Yours... all yours” you pant out, caught up in what you think must just be a kink that he has. For the second time he has you cumming, this time all over his tongue. The noises that escape him would make anyone think he was the one mid orgasm, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Finally having your juices coat his tastebuds proved too much for Jimin as he rocked his hips to create fiction, releasing in his shorts seconds after you clenched around his tongue

Kinktober

Masterlist

Taglist

@adventuresinwonderlust @thedarkwinterrose @samros95

Lucas Pt.8: The gladiator and the Captain

Hey everyone. Here I am, back at it again with Lucas. There’s a bit of character introduction and set up coming so hopefully ya’ll don’t mind the slower pace. Hope you all enjoy.

CW: Mentions of vomiting

Lucas knelt over a bucket, dry heaving and choking as his stomach churned. Sweat poured down his forehead, his body shaking as another wave of nausea washed over him.

“I am so sorry Lucas,” Jawad said, kneeling beside the boy and patting his back. “I didn’t think you would take to the tincture this poorly...”

Lucas tried to respond, but any attempt at speaking was shut down as another dry heave hit him. Nothing came up, what little food Lucas had in his stomach had long since been expelled. All he could do now was wait for things to pass. 

Jawad signed, walking over to his desk and picking up his journal. He scribbled in the pages, shaking his head slightly. He turned back to Lucas. “Do you at least feel like your magic has returned?”

Lucas took his head out of the bucket, holding up a shaky hand and trying to bring forth a flame. Nothing manifested and Lucas had to abandon his attempt as another wave hit him.

“I suppose that's a no then.”

It had been a couple of days since Lucas had first awoken. He had not left Jawad’s tent, the doctor insisting that Lucas remain so he could monitor his recovery. There had been no issues, by all accounts he was healing like any normal person would. Lucas didn’t know how he felt about that. It was good that nothing bad was happening, but it was also...strange. He was used to any injuries he had healing in a few hours at most. The need for bandages, the bleeding, the soreness that came from healing muscle, it all felt unnatural. 

He didn’t care to think about whether or not he would need to get used to it.

At last the nausea faded and Lucas was able to pull himself to his feet. He was still shaky, having to brace himself against the table to avoid falling over. Jawad gently grabbed onto his arm, guiding him over to the bed and letting him sit down. He handed Lucas a bowl of water, letting him rinse out his mouth. 

“Thank you.” Lucas said, bowing his head slightly. Jawad had so far not been partial to the more overt displays of submission that Captain Edwin had drilled into Lucas. Anything more than an appreciative thanks was dismissed as being ‘unnecessary’. Lucas was grateful that so far these mistakes had gone unpunished.

“No thanks needed Lucas, least of all because I just poisoned you…” Jawad trailed, flipping through his journal some more. “Hmmm, perhaps another potion might work...if only I had something more reliable than my old mentor’s theories.” He turned to Lucas. “Are you certain there is nothing you might know that could lead us in the right direction?”

Lucas thought for a moment, racking his brain before a memory stuck out. “When I was with my old masters I was given a sort of potion once. It, um, it sort of helped my magic after I had used it a lot.”

Jawad’s eyes lit up and he walked over to Lucas, sitting down next to him and focusing on him intently. “What do you remember about it? Taste, texture, smell.” 

Lucas tried to recall what he could. Everything before his time with Captain Edwin felt fuzzy, like he was trying to look at it through thick fog. “Um, it was thick...I think? Yes it was a thick liquid and…” Lucas trailed off, trying to remember anything else. “I think...it burned when I drank it.”

Jawad nodded, writing in his journal before responding. “Do you know what it was called? Or where your...old master,” he frowned at the word, “purchased it?” 

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“Any specific taste, any...side effects of the potion?”

“N-no.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“It...no.”

“Did it have a particular smell?”

“It...it smelled...sweet?”

Jawad hummed to himself, flipping through the pages of his journal rapidly. After a seemingly unsuccessful search he stood up and walked over to his table, sifting through several thick tomes and other journals. Lucas watched apprehensively, shrinking back as the doctor became more and more frustrated with his search. After what must have been at least half an hour Jawad slammed the book he was holding onto the table, causing Lucas to flinch.

“Well, there are at least a dozen theoretical,” he spat the word out like it tasted of ash, “concoctions and tinctures that help restore the use of magic and share some similarities with what you described, but without any more details I can’t determine which, if any, of the ones in my records match the one you were given.” He pinched his forehead. “Much less if any of them work.”

Lucas bowed his head. “I-I’m sorry for not being of any help, a-and for wasting your time.”

Jawad sighed, walking back over to Lucas, patting the boy on his shoulder. “It's not your fault.” He turned away, crossing his arms and placing a hand on his chin. “Perhaps it's time you introduce yourself to the others in camp. From what I can tell your recovery is coming along fine, and I imagine you’d want to get out of this tent by now.”

Lucas swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He had been dreading this, being forced to serve the others in the camp. Jawad had been easy to satisfy so far, and he was just getting used to how to address and act around him. Now he would have to learn all over again, with people likely far less forgiving than Jawad was. 

Still, it wasn’t up to him who he did and did not serve.

Jawad must have taken Lucas’s silence as agreement, which it was in a way, and beckoned Lucas to follow him out of the tent. Lucas complied, walking out from under the tent flaps and into the camp itself. He squinted at the sun, the bright light hurting his eyes after so long in relatively dim conditions. 

“Ah, Lucas. I see you are on your feet now. That is good news.”

Lucas turned to see Mehrzad approaching him, saber slung over his shoulder and helmet held at his side. He was the only person Lucas had really seen over the past few days, often bringing Jawad food or supplies he requested. He didn’t really talk to Lucas, usually only staying around long enough to drop off what he needed to and say a few parting words to his husband. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking Lucas up and down.”You seem a bit pale.”

“I am afraid that would be my fault.” Jawad said. “The solution I made had some...unfortunate side effects.”

Mehrzad let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I see you’ve been on the receiving end of my dear husband’s ‘experiments’. I remember one time when he tried to brew something for stomach pain. I wa-”

“I’M certain Lucas doesn’t wish to hear the, well, gory details of that...” Jawad trailed off with a chuckle. “Why don’t you show Lucas around the camp? I need to convince Jon to let me acquire another batch of ingredients. I’m not sure what they are yet, but I don’t imagine they will be cheap.”

Jawad walked off, healing towards a large tent towards the center of camp. Lucas guessed that was where Captain Jonathon was. Lucas hoped he wouldn’t get too mad at Jawad’s request. Jawad shouldn’t have to get in trouble for his sake.

And Lucas didn’t want the doctor to have any reason to vent his frustrations. 

Mehrzad clapped Lucas on the back, causing the boy to flinch slightly.“Well, looks like you are stuck with me for a while. Come, give you the tour.”

Lucas followed dutifully behind Mehrzad as he was led through the camp, head bowed and trailing by a couple of feet. The camp was large, with close to two dozen tents standing and numerous people milling around.

“Most of the people here are temporary hires, we call them ‘temps’. They usually only stick around for a few contracts or long enough to make it to a major city before leaving. You don’t need to worry too much about getting to know them, they’ll be replaced before you can get to remembering their names.”

Lucas grimaced at that. So many different people to get used to serving properly and he’d just have to relearn everything again later. Avoiding mistakes would be impossible. He looked around at some of the passing people. All of them looked imposing. Well built, big (or at least bigger than him), and...violent. A beating from any one of them wouldn’t be fun.

He decided not to think about what it would be like if they chose to gang up.

Lucas was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Mehrzad had stopped walking. The two bumped into each other and Lucas sprung back, shying away and waiting for the reprimand. Mehrzad simply stared at him, confusion on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence, Mehrzad finally spoke.

“Are you alright Lucas?”

Lucas looked up meekly, scanning Merhzad’s face for any sign of displeasure. “Um...yes I am sir. S-sorry sir.”

“Apology accepted?” He cocked his head, studying Lucas before humming to himself. “Perhaps we should rest for a moment, come sit with me.”

Mehrzad sat on a nearby fallen log, gesturing for Lucas to join him. Lucas obeyed and took a seat on the log, just close enough that he wasn’t being disrespectful but not too close for his own comfort. Mehrzad had seemed merciful thus far and Lucas felt like the man would be willing to give this one liberty. The lack of any reprimand confirmed his guess and Lucas let himself relax just a tad.

“So, Lucas, how are you feeling? You seem to be in much better shape, my husband’s experiments aside.”

“Oh. I’m feeling alright. Jawad says that my healing is going normally.” 

“That is good news.” Mehrzad reached into one of his greaves and pulled out a small dagger. Lucas tensed, eyeing the weapon warily, but the man simply began to use the tip to clean beneath his fingernails. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you traveling with that caravan for? From what I can tell you weren’t exactly there of your own desire.” He turned to Lucas, a playful smile on his face. “Am I in the presence of some dangerous killer?”

Lucas looked down at his hands, memories of the attack flooding mind. Scenes of bloody fields and butchered corpses. He felt his throat tighten and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The bloodstained face of Harold flashed in his eyes and Lucas shook his head harshly, banishing the image before he had the chance to think about it. 

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.” Mehrzad said softly. 

Lucas’ head snapped up at Mehrzad’s words. The man had a concerned look on his face, eyebrows narrowed and lips formed into a small frown. Lucas swallowed thickly. “I was a performer for, for two of the men at the caravan.”

“A performer eh?” Mehrzad raised an eyebrow at the answer. “It's a difficult job, pleasing a crowd, isn’t it? You run yourself ragged putting on a show, put everything you have into it only for the slightest mistake to turn everyone against you.”

Lucas looked at the man taken somewhat aback. “Y-yes. It was difficult. My master Harold always made me do better after each performance.”

“Ah, yes. Always have to make it bigger, flashier, more impressive. First you’re fighting a single man, then you’re shoved into a pit filled with a dozen hyenas and given nothing more than a broken spear.” He shook his head, almost as if reminiscing. “I was a gladiator back in my homeland, a rather good one if I may say. Sometimes I can still hear the roar of the crowd in my ears.”

Lucas didn’t know if he should say anything. The two lapsed into an awkward silence as Lucas contemplated possible responses. Mehrzad coughed, fiddling with his dagger before placing it back into his greave. 

“What's it like, using magic?” 

Lucas started slightly, looking at Mehrzad and frowning. How would he describe it? 

“It...hurts.” Merhzad raised an eyebrow but didn’t commnet. “It hurts when I try to use it, like, like I'm lighting a fire inside of my body that burns me. The more I try to do, the hotter it is and if I do too much it...it hurts a lot more.” He paused, looking down at his hands and running his fingers along the leylines. “But, it also feels natural, like it's something I’m supposed to do. Without I...I feel wrong. Like, like I can’t blink or, or move my fingers.” 

Lucas sniffled. “I don’t like it.”

Lucas was crying. He hadn’t realized he was until a tear landed on the back of his hand. A shaky breath left him and he wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his composure as best he could. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he turned to see Mehrzad looking at him sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine what that feels like, losing something so...integral to who you are.” He handed Lucas a small piece of cloth and let home clean off his face. “But don’t worry. You will get your magic back. Jawad, for all of his eccentricities, is brilliant. Whatever the solution is to your problem, he will find it. I assure you.”

Lucas nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The pair sat together as Lucas gathered himself. Close to an hour passed and Mehrzad stood up, stretching his back and gathering his gear.

“I must go, Lucas. I have a contract soon and I am to meet the others for a briefing. You take care of yourself alright?”

With that Mehrzad left, and Lucas was left alone. A sense of unease filled him. What should he do? He wasn’t given any orders or instructions. Was he just supposed to...wander around until someone told him to do something? 

Lucas stood in place for a few moments before deciding to do just that. He looked around and decided to walk towards the center of the camp. As he moved he took in his surroundings trying to notice any major landmarks he might be told to go to. As he searched he noticed a woman working at what looked like a giant cauldron. She was busy skinning what looked like a deer. A cook perhaps. 

Lucas decided to ask if she was in need of help. Kitchen work was easy and he was decent at it. He probably wouldn’t do anything that warranted punishment. 

Not that she would need a reason if she wanted to hurt him. 

He started walking towards the woman when he heard someone call out to him.

“HEY! Who the hell are you?”

Lucas turned to see a lean man walking towards him. He stood straight, bowing his head as the man approached. “Haven’t seen you around before. You a new hire?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes sir, my name is Lucas. I am here to serve at your command.”

The man released an eyebrow. “What, really?” He fiddled with the scabbard on his hip before producing a dirtied sword. “You uh, you gonna clean this then?”

Lucas deflated, so much for kitchen work. Still, an order was an order. “Of course sir, if that is what you desire.”

“Shit, well, have at it then.” He dropped the sword into Lucas’s arms. 

Lucas grasped the sword carefully, making sure to avoid the blade. He noticed the man walking away and called out after him. “Um, sir, do you know where I could find a rag?”

“Fuck if I know kid, you figure it out.”

Oh. Lucas looked down at the sword, and then at his surroundings. He didn’t see anywhere that might have something to clean with. Maybe he could ask someone. He noticed a woman walking by and tried to talk to her.

“Excuse me ma’am cou-”

“Piss off asshole, I'm not in the mood for chatter.”

She didn’t even look at him as she walked away. Lucas deflated further, looking down at the sword. He needed to get it cleaned soon. If he took too long the owner might get angry. Moving to a nearby fallen log to sit on Lucas began to rub at the sword with his shirt.

The work was slow, with most of the grime coating the blade taking considerable effort to work out. His shirt quickly became stained, with black and brown splotches dotting the area he used to wipe the blade. Just as he was about to finish a group of three other people walked up to him, dirty equipment in hand.

“Hey you, you the kid whose cleaning kit?”

Lucas looked up and nodded meekly. “Yes sir, I am here to serve at your command.”

“Damn, well here, clean this would ya?”

All three of them dumped their equipment at Lucas’ feet before walking off, leaving Lucas with a much larger workload. He sighed, his shoulder slumping at the sight of the pile. Dejectedly he placed the sword against the log he was sitting on and got to work cleaning off a breastplate.

News about his services spread throughout the camp, and before long Lucas had a barrack’s worth of arms and armor waiting for him to clean. After a few pieces Lucas just decided to strip his shirt off, using as much of the fabric as he could. It was long and exhausting work, with the last pieces being cleaned close to sundown. His arms ached from the rubbing and sweat poured down his face. As he hunched over the particularly filthy spear a shadow loomed over him. He sighed internally, something else to clean.

“Um, Lucas. What are you doing?”

Lucas looked up to see Captain Jonathon standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I am cleaning this equipment, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huh. Why exactly?”

“Because I was told to, Captain Jonathan.”

“Did you...want to clean all this equipment?”

“I am more than happy to serve, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huuuhhh. And you are using your shirt to clean because…?

“I could not find a rag, Captain Jonathon.”

The captain looked down at him like he had sprouted a second head. Lucas squirmed under his gaze, unsure if he had done something to upset the man. 

“How...how long have you been cleaning this stuff kid?”

“Um...since midday I believe Captain Jonathon.”

The captain exhaled, placing a hand on his face and shaking his head. “Ok. For the record, don’t go around cleaning everyone's kit alright? Don’t need any of these bastards getting lazier.”

Lucas nodded, quickly dropping the weapon and starting to pull his shirt back on.

“Don’t put that thing on!” Lucas’ eyes shot up to see Jonathon staring at him like he had just stuck his hand into a fire. “It’s covered in dirt and grease, what th- Cathrai above, what's wrong with you?”

Lucas inhaled sharply, dropping the shirt and then falling to his knees, head bowed. “Im-I’m sorry Captain Jonathan. I-I did not mean to upset you.”

Lucas waited, trembling as he heard the man approach. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a blow to land. Instead he felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder, and looked up to see the captain kneeling down to look at him.

“Hey kid, it's alright. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It's been a long day for both of us. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He pointed towards a nearby river. “Go take a bath. I’ll get you some new clothes and make sure Annya saves you some stew.”

Lucas paused for a moment before nodding eagerly. “Yes, Captain Jonathon. Th-thank you for your kindness.”

 “No problem kid.” Jonathan stood up, taking the shirt with him and walking away. After a few steps he turned. “Oh and uh, don’t call me ‘Captain Jonathon’, all the time. I imagine it gets a bit tiring .”

“Yes Ca-, yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Jonathan nodded and walked away. Lucas watched him for a few moments before making his way towards the river. It was a fair way away from any of the tents, far enough to give some privacy. Lucas undressed himself and walked into the water. It was cold, but once he was able to wash away the muck and grime that had built up on his skin he felt much better. 

After he finished cleaning himself Lucas sank down into the water slightly, letting himself relax. When was the last time he had been allowed to bathe in private? Or without a time limit? He honestly couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, he was allowed to now. He sank lower, resting his chin just above the waterline. He shouldn’t stay too long. He didn’t want Jonathon to think he was lazy or taking advantage of the man’s generosity. He let himself languish for another minute before pulling himself from the water. The air was cold against his wet skin but he didn’t mind. He hadn't felt this clean in...years probably.

Jonathon was sitting on a tree stump a short distance from the river. His back was to the water, a gesture that Lucas appreciated greatly. The man was carving at a piece of wood with a small knife, whistling a tune that Lucas didn’t recognize. He stopped when he heard Lucas’ footsteps, turning around and picking up a shirt he had laid across his lap. 

“You look better kid, here, new shirt for you.”

Lucas took the shirt and pulled it on. It was big, the fabric hung loosely off of his body, but it was clean and warm. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem kid. I’ll see about getting you some nicer pants too, those things look a little thin.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

Jonathan nodded and gestured for Lucas to follow him. The two walked back to the camp, heading towards the center. Several small groups of mercenaries were sitting around a large bonfire, talking and laughing over bowls of food. Lucas saw the lady from earlier, Annya he figured, doling out stew from the cauldron, a small line forming in front of her. 

“Take a seat Lucas, I’ll go get us dinner.”

Lucas nodded and sat down on a box placed towards the fringes of the bonfire. Jonathan walked towards the lady, nodding to a few of the mercenaries he passed. Some nodded back, others offered salutes, one asked for the captain to join him and his friends at a game of dice. Jonathon declined and walked up to the cauldron, taking his place in line behind the others. 

Lucas watched him, trying to get a read on the man. He seemed well liked by most of the people in the camp. That was a good sign, well liked people don’t tend to dish out beatings for no reason. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt. It was well made, probably the nicest piece of clothing Lucas had ever worn. He was surprised it was wasted on him.  

The captain returned with two large bowls of stew, sitting next to Lucas and handing him one of them. “I had Annya give us the big bowls. Perks of being captain.” He pulled a spoon from one of his pockets and handed it to Lucas. “Eat up, you did a lot of work today. More than your share.”

Lucas took the spoon and dug into the meal. It was as good as always. He had been fortunate enough to be allowed meals every day so far, probably to help along his recovery. He hoped that things wouldn’t change too soon, though he had a sinking feeling that they would once he finished healing. 

“Annyas a blessing. Before we picked her up we didn’t have anyone who could cook. We ate what preserved crap we could carry and whatever we managed to hunt or forage.” Jonathan shook his head. “Once when we were low on supplies all we had to eat was raw grain and mushrooms for days. I don’t think I've come closer to being killed by my own men.”

The captain tilted his head back, draining the last of the broth from his bowl and placing it on the ground. He turned to Lucas, a serious expression on his face. Lucas paused, placing the bowl in his lap and waiting for the captain to speak.

Jonathan pulled out a small metal medallion shaped like a crown. “You see this? This is the emblem of the Crownsmen - that's the name of our company if you didn’t guess. Everyone who works for me has one, and it serves as a symbol of our unity and camaraderie, of our code. One very important tenant of that code is fairness, everyone pulls their fair share, no more no less.” He pocketed the medallion. “Now you aren’t a crownsman, but you are a guest in our camp, which means that applies to you too.”

Lucas gulped and bowed his head. “O-of course sir. I am more than willing to do whatever you order.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, no. Probably could have phrased that better...” He muttered to himself quietly before turning his attention back to Lucas. “Anyways that's not what I meant. It's been less than a week since we pulled you half dead from the site of a massacre and today you spent the better part of 10 hours cleaning a barrack’s worth of kit. That is far and away beyond what I consider a fair share of work. You’re on your feet now so I’ll probably have you help around the camp a bit but any work you do comes from me. Anyone else tries to order you around you tell them to fuck off alright?”

Lucas nodded, it made sense that the captain of the camp would be the only one allowed to give him orders. At least that meant he would only need to learn how to please one person now.

“Good, now get some sleep. It’s late and you must be exhausted.” Jonathan stood up and began to walk away before turning around. “Oh, and if anyone tries to give you too much shit you let me know. I don’t tolerate infighting.”

“Yes sir, of course.”

Jonathan nodded and left. Lucas watched him for a moment before picking his bowl back up. Fatigue was starting to hit him hard and he could barely muster the energy to finish his food and walk back to Jawad's tent. It was empty, the doctor was likely taking care of something. Lucas was too tired to wonder what. He crawled into the cot he had been using and let himself drift away. 

So far, this place didn’t seem too bad.

Tags: @haro-whumps @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @inpainandsuffering

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

XB

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

Sasuke retrieval team members + Lee & Sasuke taking action when their kid gets a contagious disease?(polio or scarlet fever maybe but idk what diseases exist in their world) And if you got time add scenario of their angst if their kid died from it?

Ah, immunocompromised children and infectious diseases. Love it. I could potentially write a sad scenario of the Kiba or Sasuke one. 

Naruto (measles)

Initially, he didn’t understand how such a mediocre disease could have impacted his daughter as much as it did. There was a reason that they called it a “childhood,” disease. You got it when you were a kid, and then you were fine. Yeah, you were out for a couple days, but you were fine. 

Unfortunately, his daughter was not going to be just fine.

It came on fast. One day she was running around, tracking mud into the house as she tried to catch the neighborhood cat, and then the next, she wouldn’t get out of bed and had a high fever.  Yet at that point, Naruto didn’t put much thought into it. She had a fever, it wasn’t uncommon for kids to get them. 

But it gets worse. She barely stays awake and when she is, it’s evident that she’s struggling. Her breathing is rapid and labored, her fever never breaks; this was the beginning of the end. 

There’s so much guilt; if he had given more time to her, if he had taken her to the doctor, if he had been the parent that she deserved… then maybe she would still be tracking mud into the house... 

Kiba (RSV)

It’s his baby and he’s so fucking angry. Absolutely seething. 

Everyone always thought that he would be the most laid back parent out of them all, and to a point, this is true. He lets the child explore and discover the world on their own, but when it comes to other’s trying to meddle in the child’s life, he won’t tolerate it. 

Kiba’s always been on the protective side of his child in times like this, particularly when they're an infant and cannot help themselves, so the fact that a grown adult put his child at risk and now she’s suffering because of it, has him livid. If he knows who was the person who ended up giving her RSV, he will tear them to shreds. To be so selfish and cruel to subject a mere infant to this pain… 

His grief first manifests as anger, but as the hours pass and the prognosis becomes grimmer, the anger is replaced with pain and the almost unbearable notion that he may leave this room without his baby girl. That he may return home and never hear that cheeky giggle again…  

And this is where the sorrow begins to nearly paralyze him and he remains silent in the small room, just watching over her- a mere 9 month old baby, inundated with tubes and wires as she lies motionless in the hospital crib. 

Neji

Neji did not play. His kid was already immunocompromised, and so was not taking any chances with ANYTHING. 

When he was first informed that his child was immunocompromised, his already watchful-and sometimes overbearing- tendencies shifted more towards their health rather than the political strife of their family. He knew what symptoms to look out for, he knew what common occurrences diseases came from, he knew it all. 

Truthfully, his child probably has the best chances of surviving, because Neji is so quick to act. 

Though, let’s pretend that they probably won’t make a comeback, that they will die at the hand of something that was so preventable…

It’s something that Neji will never be able to forgive himself for. Neji’s failed before, but there is something about this failure that he will never be able to shake. He’ll be constantly reminded of their suffering through nightmares and a never ending sense of negligence he had for them. In his mind, he knew that they were at risk and he knew how to ensure a safe life, but he didn’t...

Shikamaru (Flu)

He didn’t think too much of it at first. Shikamaru was always a firm believer that he really didn’t need to take his kids to the doctor unless they were on death’s doorstep. Kids were usually pretty tough. Yeah, their immune system was still in the works, but he couldn’t even count all of the times that he had been sick as a kid and had gotten over it.

But the days where the little one was sick dragged on, and they didn’t get better. Still, Shikamaru didn’t think to take them to the doctor. A cough is a cough and a fever is a fever; there’s nothing more to it- or so he thought. 

To make it even worse, his kids didn’t really want to bother him with how truly terrible they felt. Thought he would just brush them off, because it’s just how he is. 

Yet suddenly that small fever has turned into systemic organ failure and no matter how hard the doctors try to save them, there’s nothing that can be done. 

And as they tell this to Shikamaru, he’s still in denial. It doesn’t make sense… it was just the flu… 

Choji

He’s such a worrywart. Yet even with this, Choji actually probably handles this the best out of everyone in this bunch, because the second his little one starts to act off, he knows something’s up and will make them rest. 

Choji will take time off himself and tend to the child. No need to worry, Nurse Choji is here to save the day.  

Can make chicken noodle soup fit for gods. 

Honestly, your best survival rate is with this man, because he validates his children and won’t give anything else another thought until they are on the mend. 

Sasuke (Whooping Cough/Pertussis)

What did he do wrong? 

That’s the question that’s constantly replaying in his mind. He’s positive that it’s his fault. It’s his fault that his baby won’t stop coughing. It’s his fault that they can barely breathe. It’s his fault that they’re now hooked up to oxygen and the prognosis is far worse than he’d like to admit.  It’s all his fault. 

When she was born, there was something new inside that he had never had before. There was a sense of urgency and importance that he had to protect her. Her life was in his hands. Never had he truly been responsible for another person, but now a tiny infant depended on him, and so he had promised her that day that he would protect her. 

Yet he’s unwillingly broken that promise...

He never leaves the baby’s side. He barely sleeps. He just waits and internally tries to make a deal with whatever celestial being is out there that would allow for her to live. Others try to support him, but there’s no use. He’s like a timed bomb- one will go off when that EKG flatlines.  

And when he cracks, it’s something that you’d never wish on anyone.  

Out of Place

TITLE: Out Of Place

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: cateyes315

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that Loki is bored in the Avengers Tower and goes around playing pranks. One of the pranks is to randomly rearrange things. When you go to your room and see the items in different places, you’re shocked. 

“LOKI!” your yell of rage echoes through out the hall. 

Loki is shocked and tries to slip away. But too late, his collar is caught by someone. Turning around, he sees your angry face.

“Well, how are you doing today, [name]?”

You don’t answer, and Loki gets dragged away by his collar. 

“Can we talk about this?”

“No.”

 https://imagine-loki.tumblr.com/post/618134855675510784/imagine-that-loki-is-bored-in-the-avengers-tower

RATING: Everyone

NOTES/WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Loki plays a prank on the reader not knowing it would backfire

                    Out Of Place

You walked into your room in Avengers tower and immediately something felt wrong. You couldn’t place your finger on it at first as there were no immediate threats around, however as you looked closer you realized your things were out of place. As if you had put them away in the wrong place, which was impossible, considering everything had its place and it drove you crazy if something was out of place. You turned around and were about to go ask the others if they knew anything when Nat stopped in your open doorway. “I see he didn’t listen,” she said leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “What?” You asked confused and in shock. 

“Apparently Loki was bored and decided to play some pranks, one of which was to rearrange things in EVERY room in the tower. I warned him to stay out of your room but obviously he didn’t listen.” She stated simply. You immediately went from shocked to upset, “Where is he right now?” You asked through clenched teeth, fists at your sides. “In the common area,” she answered and quickly moved out of your way as you stormed out of your room and down the hall, rage in your eyes. As you get to the common room you yell out, “LOKI!”, with rage in your voice. Loki upon hearing you angrily, yelling for him tries to slip away. But it’s too little, too late as he feels someone grab the back of his collar and turn him around. “Oh hello (Y/N), how are you today?” He asks oh so innocently. Instead of responding you proceed to drag him down the hall back to your room, despite his protests. He asks if you can talk about it but you just growl “no” while you keep pulling him down the hall. You finally let him go when you get back to your room but not until you’re both in the middle of your room. You stand there angrily glaring at him while he brushes himself off as he stands up. “Well I believe that was rather uncalled for.” He said as he looked up at you. “You think so?” You ask, still quite upset with him. “Well so was you invading MY space and MOVING EVERYTHING.” “That’s what this is about? In that case allow me to fix it.” Loki said as he raised his hand to use his magic to put it all back the way you had it. But you grabbed his hand before he could finish the motion. “You will fix this, but you will fix it the way I WANT.” You said as you let go of his hand. “Of course that’s what I was about to do, put everything back how it was.” He stated as if that was obvious, yet something about the look on your face kept him from trying to use his magic again. “That’s not exactly what I mean.” You stated while staring at him, with your arms crossed. “Then what did you have in mind (y/n)?” He asks, getting a bit nervous. “You’re going to put it ALL back the way it was,” you say with a mischievous smile starting to spread across your face. “By hand, you will not use ANY magic to assist you. Even the things on the high shelves and what I had hanging on the walls.” You saw the slight fear and shock in his eyes, “How am I supposed to reach all that with no magic?” “The same way we mortals do, those of us that can’t just fly or have magic,” you say as you pull the step stool out of your closet. “Also I assume you didn’t have help doing your pranks, so you may not have help putting everything back. You may ask Jarvis to show you where things were so it gets put EXACTLY where I had it, but that is the only help you get.” At this point, having never seen you like this before, Loki is staring at you, mouth open wide. So you inform him you will be in the common room until he finishes and proceed to walk out of your room and down the hall. However upon entering the common room you find you’re not alone. Tony looks like he’s about to bust out laughing, but Nat glaring at him stops him. She knows why you reacted the way you did but no one else does, even though Tony would probably understand. You simply sit on the couch with one of your favorite books you picked up off your dresser on the way out of your room. You sat there stretched out, blatantly ignoring the questioning glance from Cap, and started reading. *a few hours later* Loki is almost finished with putting everything back and has been wondering why you reacted so strongly when you usually laughed at his pranks. He decides to ask Jarvis. “Jarvis, perhaps you could help me with something.” He asked as politely as he could. However, he got no response from the AI that Tony was so fond of. Loki shrugged his shoulders mumbling about “intelligent indeed”, when a voice from behind him shocked him. Nat stood in the doorway glaring at Loki, when he tried to talk to Jarvis. She spoke up, “You upset (y/n) he doesn’t take kindly to that. So you can ask someone else, or you could just ask (y/n) whatever it is you were trying to find out.” “I’m curious as to why they got so upset, they usually find my pranks funny even when aimed at them.” Loki really just couldn’t understand it. “If you had just listened to me when I warned you to stay out of their room you wouldn’t be in this mess. Also you should look up OCD maybe that will explain where you screwed up.” She said as she walked away. He decided to try asking Jarvis again, “Jarvis, I’m sorry I’ve upset our friend. If you could just help me understand what this OCD is and why they’re upset, perhaps I can help fix this.” After a few moments of silence he was about to give up and just look it up himself in the Library when he finished, when he heard the AI speak to him. “OCD is a type of disorder that manifests in various ways, in (y/n)’s case things have to be put in a certain place in a certain way or it throws everything off and makes them anxious until it is replaced the way it’s supposed to be. They’ve been reading the same page in that book for the past 2 hours.” He was still annoyed with Loki but knowing he didn’t understand what his actions caused helped Jarvis want to help him fix this. “Now that book you just put on the bookshelf, was actually laying right on that nightstand. It’s one they read at night to help them relax.” “Thank you Jarvis, I truly am sorry I upset them, next time I will definitely listen to Natasha when she tells me not to do something when it comes to (y/n). They’re a very good friend and I hope I didn’t completely ruin our friendship. How long do you think they will stay mad at me?” “Having everything back how it belongs will definitely help. Other than that give them time to calm down and make sure you apologize to them. Make sure they know you’re genuinely sorry and not just saying it to get out of trouble with them.” Jarvis told him where to put a couple of other things and before long he was finished. “Thank you again for your help Jarvis. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some amends to make.” Having said that he walked out of the room and toward the common area. Everyone was sitting in the common room when he walked in and asked you to come inspect his work. You had calmed down quite a bit yet you started to get anxious as you neared your room, for fear things wouldn’t be how they belonged. As you walked in your room you realized you shouldn’t have worried about it being put back right, since Jarvis undoubtedly told him when he put something in the wrong place. You walked around the room inspecting everything while Loki stood inside your doorway, head hanging low in shame at upsetting you. Walking over to stand in front of him you told him it was perfect and he could go now. However he stood there head still hanging low and shuffling his feet as if he wanted to say something. So you asked him what was on his mind. Looking up with genuine shame and a sincere look in his eyes he apologized for his behavior. “I should’ve listened to Natasha, she warned me to leave your belongings alone. I just thought she was trying to ruin my fun, I didn’t realize how badly my actions would upset you, let alone that you couldn’t help your reaction. That doesn’t excuse my actions, if there is anything at all I can do to make it up to you no matter the cost to myself I will do whatever it takes to correct this. Even if it is to give you time and personal space.” You were shocked at first that he seemed to know about your OCD, but when you thought about it you should’ve known Nat or Jarvis would explain just how badly he screwed up by messing up your order of things. “So, who told you, Nat or Jarvis? I’m not upset, just curious as to who got through to get a genuine apology out of you.” You added to reassure him you weren’t still angry. “I know how truly rare those are,” you added with a small smile on your face. Seeing the smile and knowing you wouldn’t be upset with them telling him he confessed. “Well Natasha informed me I really screwed up and suggested I look up OCD and Jarviis filled in the blanks. I truly am sorry I upset you so, I thought it would be a funny prank.” You sighed, “Well it wasn’t funny so the next time you even think about arranging my things perhaps you’ll remember this experience and leave it alone.” “I wouldn’t dream of upsetting you so much again, especially now that I know why.” He responded and was about to say more when you both heard a voice above you. “Y/N, Loki I’m sorry to interrupt such a genuine moment but I was asked to inform you by Lady Natasha that “supper is ready and if you don’t get your asses down here I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop them from eating your favorite chinese dish”. Jarvis informed you repeating Nat’s message using her exact words, knowing that’s exactly how she would want it to be relayed. The two of you smiled at each other and you spoke first, “Guess we should get down to the dining room and get something to eat.” Loki sighed, “Yes we should, knowing my oaf af a brother there won’t be much left if we don’t hurry,” He suddenly smiled and looked at you. “Would you like to make it there rather quickly?” He asked, offering his arm and a genuine smile. “Sounds good to me, I am quite hungry,” you responded, accepting his arm with a genuine smile on your face. “So are you still mad at me my dear friend?” He asked, looking at you before moving any further. “I’m not as mad, but maybe a prank or two on Thor and Tony could help you get out of trouble quicker.” You responded with a mischievous look in your eyes and a big smile on your face knowing he couldn’t resist pranking those two more than most. “Consider it done, as soon as we finish eating,” he replied with the same look on his face. “I can handle that,” you respond, “let’s go eat then, I’m really hungry all of the sudden.” “As am I,” he said and with a wink and a shimmer of green you and Loki were teleported into the dining room at your favorite seat of the table.

Mystic Messenger - Domestic Disputes And Bad Habits (mysme x MC)

--- Zen ---

He hadn’t lived with anyone for years. After running away from home, he struggled with housing, sometimes couch surfing and sometimes he had legitimate leases. And when he lived with others, he was usually the ‘messy roommate’ because leaving home at a young age meant little opportunity to learn how to manage a living space. 

Even now, his apartment is relatively clean largely by virtue of him not owning a lot of stuff. He doesn’t cook so no dishes to clean, he doesn’t own loose knick knacks to spread around. 

When he housed you for a couple days prior to the first RFA party, he had quickly cleaned his apartment of empty beer cans and loose socks, which made it look like he was a man who kept a clean house. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and by the next afternoon you noticed random articles tossed over chairs and upon the floor.

That was fine when it was only his space, but when the two of you began living together, Zen quickly had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to shed his clothing upon the floor all the time, especially when the laundry basket was right there. No, Zen, get your loose socks out of the couch cushions. Zen, stop piling up empty cigarette boxes on the nightstand. Zen, once you’ve unwrapped the sheet mask from its plastic envelope would it kill you to throw it away, instead of leaving it on the bathroom counter?

He’s consistent when it comes to chores like doing the laundry and taking out the trash. But asking him to hang up his jacket instead of letting it crumple in the corner? It’s like getting blood from a stone. 

After a while, you finally get him to pick up after himself. “It’s our home, now,” you said. “Not just yours.” A promise that said he wasn’t alone, anymore. And he took it to heart.  

--- Yoosung ---

It may seem like his depression-ruled lifestyle seemed to change overnight, but that wasn’t the case. Sure, he did regain a lot of his motivation and energy, but simply getting a new lease on life won’t overrule years of neglecting yourself.

You’d text him in preparation for a date, only to arrive and find out he hasn’t even left his bed since he replied with an ‘I’ll get ready!’ More than once your dates had to be rescheduled because Yoosung had been stuck in bed, or still in his pajamas on his desktop. 

On the third time you voiced your complaints, Yoosung got a bit defensive. He couldn’t help it, it’s hard for him to maintain a tidy schedule after so long lacking the proper will. 

It was a terse discussion. Your first couple fight, if you will. “Yoosung, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want to seek professional help?” “No, MC, I’m fine. What could a counselor possibly help me with?”

It was Yoosung’s own initiative to finally google some nearby therapists during a particularly slow morning. He didn’t tell you he’d been seeing someone until four sessions in, since he struggles with the idea that he might need help. You hug him tightly and treat the both of you to tasty pastries at a cute bakery. 

Yoosung took his therapy to heart. He started slow, working on self-affirming mindfulness and motivating himself to tidy his living space. Then he worked on his time management, which helped his schooling and energy both. 

Within the year, both you and Yoosung saw progress. He felt better, which made his life better. More time to live. More time to spend with you.

--- Jaehee ---

Domestic arguments didn’t arise until you moved in with her. Before that point, Jaehee and you meshed so gracefully, it was damn near magical. 

Even moving into her place and having to carry around heavy couches and unpack a million boxes didn’t dampen that honeymoon phase. You loved witnessing Jaehee’s hidden strength as she tugged your mattress down seven flights of stairs. 

But within a week of living with her, you noticed that you and her ... clashed when it came to interior living. You kept using up the hot water before Jaehee could take a shower. She would misplace your possessions thoughtlessly. The both of you thought each other as messier. 

It was like a new roommate situation. At first, the two of you tried to calmly talk these things out. But new issues would arise after the old ones were resolved. She didn’t like how you tossed your coat across the desk chair, or left the living room lamps on during the night. 

“It’s my apartment, MC!” “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought being your co-owner at the cafe we co-manage meant my co-money go into our co-rent!”

Jaehee went to work in a huff, leaving you to your own devices. Alone in the apartment, you decided to do some regular chores, and as you rested for a minute you absorbed the living space - you could see Jaehee’s touch in ever corner, thoughtfully and carefully labored over. It really almost seemed like your mindless efforts were invading her space.

When Jaehee returned that evening, the two of you tried to apologize at the same time. “Oh, sorry, you go -” “No, you, sorry for interrupting -”

“It’s just ... MC, I want to apologize for treating you like a naughty guest. You’re my partner now and deserve more say in our home.”

You made up and eventually the apartment evolved into a true home between the two of you. A perfect representation of your love.

--- Jumin ---

The dude can be shockingly conservative. In the beginning, it only manifested in him being somewhat of a prude. “I wish you wouldn’t wear that particular dress to the social. You look more beautiful when you show less skin.” “... you mean you’d personally prefer I didn’t show much skin, right?” “Yes? What was wrong with my previous sentence?”

But sometimes he’d be watching the news and blurt out, “I’m not sure if marriage between two men should be recognized by law.” Which leads to you trying to convince him that he’s being very unethical. 

He usually ends up saying something like, “I’m sorry, love, I’m rather uneducated when it comes to this issue,” and leave it at that. Because he’s not some right-wing jackass or anything, he just grew up in an isolated Christian family and never really got to socialize beyond that. So he never learned about viewpoints that challenged what he heard growing up.

It can be infuriating, though, especially with issues you’re concerned about. Because Jumin just kinda tries to compromise by taking a non-stance, since he just doesn’t have a strong opinion on things like reproductive rights or colonialism. It’s partially due to his sheltered background, and partially due to being raised to literally be conservative in his life dealings.

But after seeing you becoming more and more frustrated, he digs a little deeper and realizes that he’s kinda being an ass.  Eventually he begins to say things like, “I think you’re right, MC. Demonizing drug abusers is antithesis to their recovery. They deserve sympathy instead.”

But a pleasant surprise is his appreciation for climate conservation. He likes to donate and fund green power initiatives because he believes in preserving the environment and preventing nature exploitation. You join his efforts, and he finally understands how important it is to have solidarity from your significant other.

--- Saeyoung/707 ---

Being merely twenty-three years old (not to mention his neglected upbringing) leads to some rocky relationship problems. His self-doubt and anxiety can go wild during his worse days, making him revert back to his colder personality and try to push you away once more.

It doesn’t manifest as just him ignoring you. His mind can make him do some really round-about sabotaging. One day, you open the kitchen cabinets to see it all the objects thrown within haphazardly. You confronted Saeyoung and it took hours before he coldly confessed that he was considering throwing away all your favorite foods, before realizing how fucked up that would be and quickly replacing it all again. 

He knew it was his mother’s influence talking. And the thought made him sick. 

Sometimes, you responded to his darker days with loving patience and lots of hugs while he allows himself to break down. Sometimes, you choose to distance yourself a bit. Either way, Saeyoung’s mood eventually evens out. The two of you talk at length about why he feels the way he does, and why he’s propelled to do these things. As time goes on, his dark moods pop up less and less.

On a lighter note, Saeyoung can be a pretty messy dude. Partly because of his underlying mental issues, partly because that’s the type of guy he is. He doesn’t shower as much as you like him to, and he tosses trash just ... everywhere. If his bunker wasn’t so big, the clutter he alone produces would bury you both. No wonder he needed a ‘maid’. 

Yeah, it takes more than a few pushes to make him stop being a slob. He eventually owns up, but not without some effort. Everyone living in the house is grateful. 

--- Saeran ---

It took many months before Saeran felt stable enough to start integrating into normal society, and even longer before his daily schedule began to stabilize beyond surprise breakdowns, spreads of bad days spent holed up, or horrible dips in moods.

Saeran would always live with dissociative identity disorder, and during the first few years it could get tough. Both ‘Suit’ and Ray would be triggered seemingly without warning, and sometimes last for days. Ray did anything he could to earn your affection, ‘Suit’ defected his fears by trying to provoke you. 

Therapy and medication was an ongoing process. You and Saeran went through more than a couple of therapists before finding the ‘one’. Medications had to be tried then dropped because of side effects, or lack of effectiveness. There were long periods of months in-between where all he could do was hope this new treatment would be more effective than the last.

‘Suit’ once got particularly violent with you, not hitting but shaking you by the shoulders and screaming in your face, “Just say it!! You hate me ... you want to hurt me!!”

You found 'Suit’ later, crying and curled up in a corner. After long coaxing, he confessed that he was so afraid you were eventually going to hurt him, so he was pushing you to see if you’d do it. 

And Ray’d do things like blow away all his saved up money to buy you gifts in a desperate show of affection. Just because the two of you were living in a safe, stable environment doesn’t mean old haunts wouldn’t pop up.

Saeran eventually got better and better. Looking back now, Saeran is so much happier. He never lets you forget your amazing influence on him. “Thank you for saving me, my love.” 

--- Jihyun ---

He’s the perfect example of a loving boyfriend. After his two years spent in a therapeutic journey of self-discovery, he returned ready to be a reliable partner. And for the most part, he lived up to it, barring some moments where he accidentally gets sucked into bad memories.

Insomnia is the most common problem. Settling down to sleep means his mind gets easily swamped, and when he does manage to sleep he wakes up during the night and gets overwhelmed with memories once again. Some nights are worse than others.

He tries not to get up from the bed to avoid waking you too, but you eventually develop a second sense for his insomnia spells and you can feel it when he’s struggling. Then he feels bad that he’s affecting you this way.

See, that’s his problem that he can’t resolve on his own. He thinks of his problems as obstacles that bother others, and not the obstacles themselves. This prevents him from finding ways to truly resolve them. 

“I’m sorry, MC. Go back to sleep.” “... Jihyun, how many nights has it been since you’ve slept properly?” He measures it by the nights you’ve been kept awake too, and you stop him there.

“Don’t you see? It’s not about me. Think about your own health.”

And that’s not easy for him. He had obsessed over being a figure that offers unconditional love for so long, it’s hard to shed it. He thinks of his mother and his eyes grow wet. 

He and you find a relationship therapist, and it helps a lot. Jihyun’s two years of self-discovery did wonders for his mood, but it took a bit of professional aid to really unravel the really complicated stuff. 

He feels his state of thinking shift gradually, and it makes his life less cloudy, less stuck in those bad memories and regrets. Instead, he goes to sleep every night thinking about how much he loves you and his family. His heart falls asleep feeling light instead of heavy. 

obey me 60 Questions pt 1

The questions come from: here

First Part (Second Part)

1 • What is your MC’s name? What is their name origin? What does it mean (if it ever has a meaning).

- Winter, but (Do I call her an ‘OC’ instead of an MC?). It’s my name, but in story, there’s speculation. The favourite version of events is that it’s based on the extremely pale skin she has, but that version doesn’t really track all that well - since Diavolo gave her her present form (because y’know flaming wheels with eyes is not exactly great for an exchange program). More likely Diavolo went ahead with that for the lulz. She has another name but it’s the ‘would need to remove your tongue probably and possibly uttering it would do horrible things to other organs as well’, so y’know she needed a ‘be not afraid’ form. Winter’s easy enough to remember anyway without diving into the rest of it.

2 • When is their birthday? How old are they? What about their zodiac sign? (bonus point if you give their rising or even their birth/natal chart)

- Birthday is September 6, Virgo, for all that it means. Sun rising in Virgo. Winter is much, MUCH older than Luke, but not old enough to remember the Celestial War.

3 • What is your MC’s gender? And what are their sexual/romantic preferences?

- Being an Angel, Winter is supposed to platonically love ever living creature (and does) and Heavenly Father above all else. However she seems to have a little bit of an issue keeping things that way....

Overall, Winter seems to be pansexual with strong shades of Demisexual/Demiromantic - those she has become close to seem to have relationships that are much, MUCH more nuanced than what would seem appropriate for an Angel. 

Winter identifies as female and uses she/her pronouns. In her natural form it’s a ‘They/Them’ situation but in her humanesque guise, she/her seems more organic.

4 • What is your MC’s race? (human, demon, angel, other). If human, what are their nationality and origins?

- Angel...and remains so so far.... She is an ophanim and so was given a more appropriate, non-fear inducing humanesque form for use with the exchange program. So far she looks like a very-very-very-VERY pale skinned feminine presenting individual with black hair and blue eyes. She could ALMOST pass for a white person in the Human Realm...but she’s maybe just a little -too- white (not White, though perhaps a little of that too) for even a very light skinned person, and maybe her eyes are a little TOO blue (but contacts?). 

5 • Before coming to Devildom, what was their occupation? (job, studies…)

- Ophanim, pulling Heavenly Father’s chariot across the Celestial Realm.

6 • Height? Weight? Describe their body type.

- QUITE short and very slight, perhaps just barely pushing 157cm and maybe looks to be somewhere in the 100-110 lb range, but this said, it’s always a shock when the little waif type can merrily scrimmage with Beel and the rest of the Fangol team. 

Beel -struggles- with this; every instinct is telling him to help her put on some bulk, but on the other hand he has been on the receiving end of her tackles enough times to know she’s absolutely fully capable the way she is.

Going quite along with the ‘Demons and Angels are seriously attractive’ it wouldn’t be out of place to say Winter’s quite as attractive as any of them. Just a little -too- attractive to be human. 

7 • Who is/are your MC’s love interest(s) (if they ever have one). Summarise their dynamic.

- Depending on the version of events, Beel is her main love interest and their dynamic started (and does continue) as Captain and - eventually - Co-Captain. Winter’s able to keep up with Beel physically too and he appreciates having someone he doesn’t have to hold back with his strength on. Winter can hold her own and even take him down if need be (Beel’s still stronger, but an unfocused rampaging Beel can be subdued by Winter’s strategic calm). They can get competitive for fun but ultimately are pretty cuddly and happy.

They make an even better team and Winter’s pretty ballsy for an Angel and rather willing to take part in what the Devildom has to offer - so she’s more than happy to go on little adventures (mostly food related). In addition, Winter respects the place of Belphie in their relationship and is more than happy to include him (Not in THAT way)

They really both care a great deal about one another but where their relationship falters is that Beel feels Winter does not understand what it would ultimately mean for them to stay together  - they want to stay together but also Beel knows what it means to fall...

- Mammon and Winter are close (some would say ‘very close’ or  ‘too close’) of friends. Winter does NOT like how Mammon’s treated (particularly by Lucifer) and defends him to the death. 

Winter can temper Mammon’s wildness and impulsiveness and will put an end to schemes that go too far. 

The duo is very cuddly - Beel tends not to mind all that much for two reasons - the first being that Winter is an Angel and for all that she can push the envelope of that a little, there’s certain things she won’t do - ‘cheat’ is one major one. The other is that unlike with MC, Mammon has no blushy tsundere tendencies around Winter.  On the other hand, if one didn’t know the two, it would likely be a first reaction to assume that Winter and Mammon are the couple and Beel and Winter are the good friends.

In all seriousness if Beel wasn’t interested, Mammon and Winter would end up together - and it would happen the same way as their friendship. Just a very natural progression and one day everyone wakes up and they’re in a relationship.  

8 • Does your MC have any specific appearance features? (Scars, marks, anything else)

- Winter has a big pair of fluffy white wings that, unlike the Demon bros. are constantly on display. They used to bother her but she’s made them work for her. Has been widely speculated (and is almost DEFINITELY probably true) that Diavolo made her look something like a storybook angel. 

9 • Does your MC have any disabilities? (physical, mental health, etc). How do they deal with it?

- Winter can get severely depressed and will try to the best of her ability to hide it. She doesn’t do a good job, so she has a pretty good support network; particularly in Siemon who has had experience dealing with some of the things that can shake her generally cheerful nature.

10 • How do you imagine your MC’s voice? Describe it.

- Winter is LOUD. Justified as she is usually screaming on a Fangol field - or needing to talk over Mammon. Accent wouldn’t be terribly out of place in Northern England. 

- In quieter moments where she is focused she comes across as far more stern and serious, but will change her tune pretty quickly - particularly since everyone’s favourite go-to way of teasing her is telling her she’s behaving like Lucifer (They’re not wrong actually - the two are very similar...just...don’t ever mention it to either)

11 • Does your MC have any tattoos or piercings? Just tell us more about it!

- Not a one, though she does manifest extra eyes when she’s excited or agitated. Mammon has TRIED to get her ears (her EARS!) pierced - however she just won’t. 

12 • Describe their clothing style (if they have a favorite style). Do they have specific accessories Bonus question: how do they wear RAD uniform?

- Winter wears her RAD Uniform like it’s supposed to go

- Lots of sports clothes - track pants, shorts, jerseys in RAD colours

- Siemon has joked she doesn’t own a raiment.

- Asmo has PLANS to steal her for the day

- Does clean up nicely however. Goes a little pastel goth when dressed up

13 • Is your MC able to use magic? If so, are they skilled? How do they learn? Were they able to use it before coming to Devildom?

- Winter has magic being an Angel, but she, like Beel prefers to rely on her strength and presence to make her way. 

- She can perform minor miracles - such include restocking the fridge when Beel empties it before MC can get to him, or putting back objects Mammon has taken. However these things come with a price  (eg: Winter can replace food but would have to go without) 

14 • Describe your MC’s parents (names, jobs, personalities). Do they have any siblings? What is their relationship with their family?

- Heavenly Father. We know what that guy’s about.

15 • How many language do they speak? Which ones?

- Winter’s a polyglot + Angel = knows all languages across all realms. 

16 • What is their relationship with each brother?

- Lucifer: Very high suspicion and disdain where his treatment of Mammon is concerned. Does not like to admit that Lucifer’s (objectively) better qualities are also some of hers. When they do admit any grudging respect for eachother - it is in regards to their loyalty and hard work ethic. (They’ll also set aside a little time at parties - both Lucifer (for reasons of state and appearance) and Winter (she learned how to improve agility in sports) are excellent dancers.

- Mammon  as above - best friends. Certainly Mammon was pretty impressed the little lower angel was intervening on behalf of his punishment, but really they just got to talking later and found they get on very well. Winter’s able to hold Mammon back a bit - but it’s no big secret - they go out somewhere and wind up talking for hours instead of whatever crazy scheme Mammon was originally planning. Have a 1001 inside jokes and also get really cuddly (Mammon won’t admit but Winter’s ‘big stupid fake wings’ are snuggly and he will find ways to comandeer them. (”Say, Asmo and Belphie were weights for Beel, how about I be yours.)

- Levi’s the Otaku, Winter’s a jock and so she doesn’t get the appeal of staying in all day. She can get a little at odds with him - as he’s one of Mammon’s prime tormentors. She also can argue with him over the realism of sports anime. Utlimately they don’t have much of a reason to talk and if Levi does show up to a group setting, it’s not in Winter’s nature to antagonize him without cause. She does however like a couple of his idol groups or at least is able to mention the songs that are on her workout playlist.

- Satan and Winter don’t ACTIVELY seek eachother out but when they do, they can get going pretty good on literature. Winter’s a decent student - but not decent enough to surpass Satan, so there’s not too much jealousy and competitiveness. What Satan DOES like about Winter is that ability to speak everything and her excellent keynote memory. If he can’t remember where something is in a book they were reading he can always ask her. Plus it doesn’t hurt that it’s no big secret she has about as much contempt for Lucifer as he does.

- Asmo and Winter - Asmo would love to take Winter shopping, get her a manicure, take her to the beauty parlor. Winter doesn’t mind the teasing (though as with Levi she will shut down the moment he starts talking smack about Mammon). She can get a little frustrated with Asmo’s incessant questions about Beel - what does he look like in the shower. What have they done together. Random advice about what their first time should be like. And pretty sure Winter’s soul left her body the day she found out he asked Beel if she had any extra eyes...er...in...-intimate places-. 

 Beel and Winter - See Relationship Status.  In the early stages of their relationship, Winter liked Beel right away as Beel wasn’t dismissive of her showing up to Fangol tryouts. Beel was at least intrigued that this random Angel seemed as interested in it as he was - and better yet was good! He was also excited from the get go to have a friend he could roughhouse with without hurting them. Even his own brothers can’t deal with his full strength.

- Belphie and Winter - Winter’s never really -got- Belphie and his sarcasm. She understands how important a part of Beel’s life he is and very much wants him to like her personally. He does - he of course trusts his brother but it’s the fact that Winter is accepting of Beel’s presence. Even if Beel were to wind up with MC or with another individual, he’d always be a major part of Beel’s life and he wouldn’t be able to accept someone who didn’t accept him that way. If he starts treating Winter the same way he does Beel, they’ll probably really get along in the end.

17 • What is their relationship with each side characters?

- Luke and Winter - Winter is the cool older Sister to Luke so to speak. She’s a little younger than Siemon (or Lucifer or Michael for that matter) and he tends to listen to her (though is still not sure why exactly she’s so interested in those demons. She will tell Mammon off on his behalf too - (He’s not a chihuahua, stop that! You don’t like it much when people call you scummy, do you?). Beel is, however...well...it’s not like he SUPPORTS that relationship (but he does support that relationship.)

Siemon and Winter - Siemon is a mentor in the Devildom and he understands some of what Winter is going through. He after all has a relationship with a dear friend (once a brother) and it makes things harder when that dear friend is a fallen former angel. Siemon is pretty good - he doesn’t have to ‘parent’ Winter the way he does Luke but he cares for her well being.

- Solomon and Winter - Oh GOODNESS SOLOMON WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! That many pacts can’t be good for---Are you pacting demons to cook for us? (Cue the very sympathetically received texts fo/from Beel or Mammon every night Solomon’s on cooking duty at Purgatory Hall.) Winter’s somewhere in between blank horror and worry over the Sorcerer’s soul. Solomon is VERY aware of this and cue the subtle teasing. Winter gets frustrated with Solomon - who is cool as a cucumber about this.  

Barbatos and Winter - Likely very chill - Winter doesn’t mess with the timeline and Barbatos doesn’t have any reason to get up her bum. Definitely does appreciate her relationship with Beel and Mammon both and offers foodstuffs for the both of them.Has a minor side bet going with Lord Diavolo - in .9 /10 timelines she winds up with Beel, but sometimes she winds up with Mammon. If you don’t let me look into the future let me try to guess?

Diavolo and Winter: Everyone how fucking hilarious would it be: Angel and the future/defaco ruler of the devildom dancing together? Cause that is what happens. And there is mass joy there. Winter believes he likes MC and is a bit of a shipper on deck. Winter lets Diavolo play his pranks and is happy to see the results.

18 • What is your MC’s main hobbies and passions?

- Winter is a jock and likes watching sports as well. She’s also a clever strategist, She’s actually an excellent dancer - she did it in the first place to improve her agility on the field, but she wound up enjoying it. Funnily enough it’s one of the rare and few places she actually enjoys spending time with Lucifer - he’s actually really good...and YOU try prying Beel away from the buffet table at a party. Mammon will dance...and then piss and moan about trying to work up to dancing with MC all night. 

19 • Why did they end up in Devildom in the first place? What happened to them?

- Winter is deemed a little TOO rebellious for an angel, so Heavenly Father decided she should go and see what the Devildom was actually like - in the hopes of scaring her straight. Er...she um...liked it. A lot. And found a Demon she wants to stay for so THAT was a fail and a half.

20 • What is your MC’s MBTI type?

- Winter’s a definite ESTJ. 

21 • Do they have pact with each bro? Do they often use their pacts? In which situations?

- Being an angel, she holds no pacts for obvious reasons.

22 • What is their favorite place in Devildom?

- The middle of the Fangol field, but sometimes when there’s no one there, or just to look at it when it’s quiet with the stadium lights on

23 • Which sin fit them the most?

- Pride. And NEVER mention it. Ever. 

24 • Describe their personality.

- Loyal to a fault, generally cheerful and a dedicated friend. But that said she’s also a stickler for the rules, doesn’t bend for much and can be prejudiced. She can be easily swayed by a kind attitude (Hey it’s how she fell for Beel and became friends with Mammon)

That said the two whom she came to love are both her greatest strength of personality and her biggest downfall. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize an opportunity to punish their sins It’s simply she loves them too much and is too loyal to actually want to - hence ‘to a fault’.

Winter’s greatest sin is pride and she prides herself on keeping MC away from the temptations in the Devldom, but she doesn’t quite see her own sins in the process. In some ways, not bad but also she has her lover as a glutton and her best mate as a greedy arsrehole and she can’t see how it’s affecting her even though she’s trying. 

basically a good bean but see above as well...good but trying waaaay too hard She wants to be good and the Angel everyone expects but really her real personality is defiant and still kind and cheerful but rather more attuned with Mammon.

25 • What is their moral alignment?

- It’s either Chaotic Good or Lawful Evil.

26 • Does your MC possess an object/something especially dear to their heart?

- To date there is nothing they’d not give up for another being.And if Beel or Mammon asked for it they could have an Angel’s soul....but....neither would ask.

27 • Which character(s) do they consider as their best friend(s)?

- Mammon is Winter’s best friend and if Beel didn’t want them then well, Mammon would. End of story do not pass go do not collect 200 quid.

28 • Choose a song that fits your MC.

- It’d be some kind a weird hybrid between SMF by Twisted Sister and Angel in Blue Jeans by Train.

29 • What are your MC’s religious beliefs?

- Angel’s heart is pounding right out of her over Beel.But she’s trying to keep it up. Too bad she can’t. might pound right out of her. 

60 questions obey me, 

Ty had mixed feelings about neckties; he liked trying and perfecting all the different knots, but he didn’t like how they felt around his neck. This was why he wasn’t wearing one to his wedding, but also why Kit was- so that Ty could do it up for him. Ty stood at the window to the library of the LA Institute with the gold satin tie in his hands, the soft blue stitches that honoured Kit’s downworld blood resisting Ty’s fidgeting fingers and keeping the accessory together. He could feel the textured runes against his skin, and just by the feel of them he could tell which one meant what; love, purity, hope, forever, and many other ceremonial wedding runes that made him feel safe. From where he stood at the window he could see everyone setting up the wedding down below as the sun reached its peak in the sky, glittering on the ocean like Magnus had replaced the water with his magic. Magnus Bane, Catarina Loss and Oliver Sound were setting up wards and Glamours so that the event could go unnoticed by any Mundanes that may be on the beach, and Tessa Gray was flittering around like a proud and nervous fly as she tried to keep everyone on task. Jem was helping young Mina decorate the simple wooden structure, which Ty and Kit would be standing on for the ceremony, with gold ribbons and flowers. The residents of the New York Institute, who had arrived the night before to help, were setting up the chairs with Mark who had been banished from the kitchen. The residents of the LA Institute were bringing out trays of food and setting them up under a long tent on equally long tables and every now and again, one of the warlocks would float over to enchant the food to stay fresh and edible in the LA weather. It had been Kit’s idea to have the wedding at sunset and the party into the night, and his reasoning had been that Ty doesn’t like the sun so much, but he had told Ty later that it was more to do with the fact that so many of their milestones had been in the dark: their first time meeting, Kit saying that he loved Ty, Ty saying it back three and half years later, their first kiss and first time having sex, and even the proposal. It seemed fitting to Kit, and to Ty, that they get married at sundown too. A shadow fell over the organised chaos on the beach as a large, winged shape flew past the sun and Ty glanced up to see Ash circling the goings on. He was clearly looking for something, but he didn’t find what it happened to be and Ty watched as his fiancé’s parabatai flew down to land on the top step in front of the Institute. Thais and Dru broke apart from their tasks on the beach and ran up towards the winged man, both grinning happily to see their friend and he enveloped the two of them in a hug. Ty obviously couldn’t hear them, and their mouths were obscured by wings and shadows for him to read what they were saying so he turned his attention back to the beach just in time to see Julian press a kiss to Emma’s temple and move towards the institute and follow the small group inside.

It was only a moment later that there was a gentle knock on the library door and then Julian pushed the heavy door open. Ty watched his reflection in the window as his older brother made his way slowly to him, feeling his heart beating strong and sure inside his chest. “How are you feeling?” Julian asked and Ty smiled, turning around to face him.

“I feel safe… and I feel comfortable,” he said before glancing down at the crowd on the beach, “A little bit apprehensive about all of the people perhaps, but I did know that they were all going to be here so I will be okay.”

“I know you will be Ty-Ty,” Julian said, his voice soft and eyes shining. Ty knew that Julian wasn’t sad or hurt, so his tears were just a physical manifestation of his happiness and possibly pride, but Ty still wasn’t sure what to do about them.

“Please don’t cry Jules…” he said helplessly, plucking a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to Julian who looked at it sceptically before shaking his head and blinking his tears away.

“Why do you have a handkerchief?” He asked, lips twitching in a smile. Ty glanced down at it before putting it back in his pocket and looked back up at Julian, shrugging lightly.

“Kit wanted us to incorporate a Mundane tradition into the wedding, seeing as though we have incorporated Shadowhunter and Downworld traditions. I have something old and something new, and Kit has something borrowed and something blue. The handkerchief is old, we found it in the New York Institute.”

“That’s really nice, but I’m glad I didn’t use it,” Julian said with a familiar tease in his voice. Ty knew that often meant he didn’t need to reply so he resisted the urge to tell Julian that they had washed and mended the old handkerchief.

“A couple more hours until the ceremony,” Ty began, looking out the window, “Which means everyone else will start arriving soon.”

“Yeah, they will, but what’s important is that you and Kit are okay.”

“I’m okay, why wouldn’t we be?” Ty asked curiously, trying to puzzle out why they wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like they were in any more danger than on an average day, in fact the two of them were inside when everyone else was outside and vulnerable on the beach. Julian sighed and carefully raised his hand and after Ty nodded his permission, he lowered it to Ty’s shoulder and smiled.

“Some grooms get nervous before their weddings, and sometimes they get scared or worried or emotional. It’s normal, so I just wanted to check on you.”

“Were you nervous before your wedding?” Ty asked, genuinely surprised to hear this. He couldn’t understand why someone would be nervous before their wedding, and he couldn’t imagine himself to feel nervous before his. He was marrying Kit, the man he had loved since he was fifteen years old. Why would he be nervous? He was looking forward to standing next to Kit as his husband.

“I was a little bit, and in hindsight I don’t know why… I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t be nervous little brother,” Julian said fondly, squeezing Ty’s shoulder gently and letting go with a grin on his face. “You really do love him don’t you…”

“Did you doubt it?”

“No, never. It just… you can be so hard to read sometimes Ty and yet how much you love Kit is written so clearly across your face sometimes and it just takes me by surprise.” Julian sounded so awed as he spoke that Ty decided not to point out that he had nothing written on his face and just accept the figure of speech.

“I do love him, and as long as he knows that then that is all that matters,” Ty said, and it wasn’t the first time he had said it. Julian nodded and then took a step back, looking at Ty from the top of his head to his shoes and back again.

“You look amazing, very sharp and elegant.”

“Thank you,” Ty said politely, “I never thought gold would be my colour.”

“Every colour looks good on you,” Kit’s voice answered and Ty looked to the door to see his fiancé standing there with the biggest grin on his face. He had on a gold suit, Marked with darker gold thread with four gold rings with multicoloured gems on his left hand. He was saturated in gold, from his curly hair and the colour of his skin, to the clothes and adornments he was covered in. Ty smiled, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks in a blush.

“You look very nice,” Ty said and Kit winked at him before turning his attention to Julian.

“Do you mind helping Ash and the girls upstairs please? I will bring Ty out before the ceremony.”

“You’d better!” Julian said as he walked towards Kit and rested his hand on his shoulder, “Your suggenes will be waiting for you,” he looked over his shoulder at Ty and smiled, “And so will yours.”

Kit closed the library door behind Julian and walked over to where Ty was standing in front of the big window and gently put his hand on Ty’s waist, to which Ty leant against it for more pressure and smiled down at his fiancé who turned his face up to smile back, gold hair falling off his forehead.

“Julian is my suggenes, why didn’t he just say that he would be waiting?” Ty asked and Kit shrugged, reaching up with his other hand to rub between Ty’s eyebrow where he must have been frowning.

“He could have used Ash’s name too, but I think he is just proud to be your suggenes and wants to say it as many times as he can,” Kit replied and then he leaned up and tilted his head a little bit, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” Ty whispered, a familiar pulling in his stomach as they closed the gap between their lips. Ty pulled his arms out from Kit’s embrace and looped the tie around his fiancé’s neck and used the ends to pull him closer, inviting a surprised and pleasant sound from Kit’s mouth as he clasped his hands around Ty’s back.

“I love you baby,” Kit murmured against Ty’s lip and Ty smiled into the kiss, his heart fluttering like a bird trapped behind his ribs.

“I love you too,” Ty confirmed, because he knew Kit liked the reassurance, and then leant back to fidget with the tie some more.

“Can you tie it please?” Kit asked and Ty nodded, readjusting the accessory and doing it up neatly, his fingers lingering there for a moment before letting go of it. His fingers immediately missed having something to fiddle with and, as if reading his mind, Kit stepped close again and nestled his face against the crook of his neck and Ty curled his fingers in the blonde hair at the back of his head, a smile growing on his face. Ty backed up and sat down gracefully in the armchair facing the window, pulling Kit down on top of him, his familiar weight and shape comforting on him. He curled and fiddled with Kit’s soft hair, breathing in his familiar scent; LA sage and the UK rain that never seemed to leave him no matter how many years he had been home.

“I am looking forward to being your husband,” Ty said softly and Kit smiled, his lips tickling Ty’s neck.

“Part of me can’t even believe this is happening,” Kit whispered, sitting up and cupping Ty’s cheek softly, his rings cold against his skin. Ty smiled and turned his face to kiss his palm and then leaned against him.

“It is happening,” Ty said, “we are getting married pretty soon.”

“I know,” Kit said with a soft breath of laughter, “When I was fifteen and I fell in love with you without even knowing it… I couldn’t have imagined this day for us. And for years after, when I was in Devon and even when I was back here, I wouldn’t let myself even dream about this day. Yet here I am, with you, about to be married to you. It just… I don’t have all the right words to tell you how amazing this feels.”

Ty reach up and wiped the tear out of the corner of Kit’s eye, “You don’t need to cry my love.”

“I can’t help it, I love you so much,” Kit said, but he was smiling so Ty knew his tears weren’t from sadness. He just curled his fingers around the back of Kit’s neck and pulled him back down against him gently, holding him close so that their heartbeats and breathing were in harmony.

***

Kit stayed curled with Ty on the arm chair, watching the beach get set up for the wedding as the sun started to drop down towards the ocean, the two of them talking softly and making each other laugh. He waited until the last minute to climb off Ty’s lap, straighten up their suits and smooth their hair, before linking their hands together and walking out of the library. They had watched Dru and Thais run out of the Institute a few minutes before so they weren’t surprised to find Ash and Julian standing alone in the entry way of the Institute, both looking supremely happy and proud. “Good evening future Mr and Mr Blackthorn-Herondale,” Julian said and Kit squeezed Ty’s hand gently. The two of them hadn’t thought about what they were going to do with their surnames, but Ty didn’t want his to change and Kit was comfortable as both a Herondale and a Blackthorn, and he needed to think some more. On the one hand, the Blackthorns had been the first family to show him love, what it means to be a family, protect him without question and even to trust him. On the other hand, being a Herondale was so important to Shadowhunters, to the Carstairs who loved him like a son and a brother, and to his family past and present. He still had some time to decide, and as Jace and Clary had reminded him just because you keep your surname doesn’t make you any less married.

“Ready to get hitched?” Ash asked, startling a laugh out of Julian and Kit shook his head with an affectionate smile.

“You spend too much time with Jackson,” Kit told him and Ash winked in response at the mention of his Mundane best friend.

“Get hitched?” Ty asked and Kit grinned, resting his cheek on Ty’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry babe, Ash was trying to be funny,” Kit explained and he felt Ty shrug in resignation, clearly deciding not to worry about not understanding something in that moment in time. They had more important things to be thinking about, which was highlighted by the fact that Ash and Julian stepped forward to pry them apart and lead them away to the beach. Ty and Julian stood side by side without touching, but Kit could see the natural ease between them that they had worked for and nurtured of years of trying and patience from the two men. Ash put his hand on Kit’s arm, halting him so that the front door closed between them and Ty and Julian.

“You didn’t answer my question…” Ash said, his calm and strong voice that Kit had relied on for years as an anchor was low and serious.

“The question? About getting hitched?” Kit asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. He was even more surprised by his parabatai’s grave nod. “By the Angel Ash, do you even have to ask?” He said, taking Ash’s hand and raising it to rest over his heart. Ash, like Kit himself, was always a few degrees warmer than your average Shadowhunter because of their faerie blood and Kit could feel the warmth of Ash through his heavy wedding suit.

“I just want to know you are sure…” Ash said, his voice low and urgent. Kit smiled and tightened his grip on his friend’s wrist.

“Ash, you know my heart as well as I do. We are tied by blood, heart and soul, and you can read me almost as if we are tied by telepathy. You know that I am ready and that I want to do this. You know I love Ty, you know I want to marry him.” Kit kept his voice soft and gentle as he spoke, but he knew that Ash was listening intently. His parabatai smiled, just the small lift at the corner of his lips, but it was enough for Kit to let go of his wrist and Ash curled his fist into Kit’s suit jacket for a brief, anguished moment before letting go.

“You’re right, you’re ready. I fear it is me who is not ready for everything to change,” Ash replied and Kit shook his head, a bubble of fondness for his friend who had suffered many changes in his life.

“Nothing much will change Ash, you know that deep down. You and I are still going to be parabatai.”

“I know, I do…” Ash lifted his arm up and Kit smiled, linking his arm through Ash’s, and leant forward to open the front door of the LA Institute. He could see Julian and Ty walking down the path towards the beach and further down he could see all of their friends and family waiting in peaceful silence apart from the warlock enchanted instruments and the three piece faerie orchestra playing for them.

@fantasticfangirlwonderland I hope you like it <3 

the way fiona is painfully touch starved and it not only shows but also affects her dynamics with the people in her life is just </3 i’m cry, here’s a little something that has been on my mind for a while....

for starters, in all her independence and selfishness, fiona is - deep ( and when i say deep i’m talking about centre of the earth kind of deep here folks), deep down - lonely and scared. now, different people react in different ways when in fear - some cower, others run; fiona is like a wounded beast, baring her teeth to anyone who gets too close when she’s licking her wounds.

her fear ( of aging, of dying, of losing cordelia, of losing her title, of never being respected nor loved again, it’s a long list even though she will never admit it ) does not incapacitate her, quite the opposite really. fiona's fear propels her to do something, forces to move forward even when against the tide.

i have yet to finish off my hcs about her parents but one thing i can point out now is that fiona did not get enough love growing up, much less displays of affection from her parents. while her mother was never an ounce as horrible as fiona herself was to cordelia, she certainly lacked at comforting fiona and making her feel safe. as to her father, always too busy at the hawthorne school to spare much of his attention on her, spoiled her rotten with gifts.

the family’s calico cat was probably the only companion for a long while - that is, in her early childhood before joining the academy - it’s not surprising that she grew up to be an individual who has one hell of a hard time showing affections; after her death of her mother, when she was taken to the academy to start her training and pretty much ever since that the only one she could truly trust and count on was herself and in her growing powers.

this is one of the many reasons why she does not like to be seen or touched ( no matter how kindly ) as if she were weak. it’s a big deal of pride mixed with uncertainty - of not being able to put her own safety at the hands of another, even if the other ( and, in this case, marie - who is pretty much the only one who even offers her any form of comfort/steady safe embrace even if only to keep her from collapsing ) is trying to help her.

she grew so used to using her looks, and touches as a way to seduce people to get what she wants that, when it comes to something  honest fiona finds herself at loss of how to go from there. take for instance the touches she exchanges with the axeman. they are sexual because obviously she is in a sexual relationship with him for a time.

while it is nothing rooted in love or genuinely romantic ( she fell in love with the idea of being in love and being, truly, loved in return; she likes the axeman, but she loves how he makes her feel more than she could ever care for him. it’s the adoration he gave her when she was at her lowest, the distraction from all the troubles and fears and, of course, the orgasms, she loved those too but we’re not going to hold that against her - considering she might have had those with only few of her partners in life, specially when one notes that she has majoritarily been with men. ) she still clinges to him, 

as she clinges to all others she tries to connect with - regardless the way she wants to do it, if it’s friendly, familial or romantic - in a way betraying her own mask of indiference to the ones around her for she doesn’t want them to leave her, dreads at the thought of being alone, even when she treats them badly - and she does, awfully a lot.

the fact that she constantly has a secret agenda alligned to touching is also something to note, it blurs even more the lines and ends up making whatever attempt to do so honestly fall flat. amongst other things, frustration comes to her often and then, of course, there’s aggresion ( not only in her own self destructive path of booze and drugs, even when she’s ill and fragile) also turned to others.

worst of all when it’s turned to her daughter, who shares a complicated bond with her. she loves her child, truly does so, but hates being a mother - always has. it never sat right with her and it never felt like these shoes belonged to her, like she deserved this. not to mention that, after delia’s birth it felt as if a part of fiona had just died, which pushed her even closed to the postpartum depression phase she went through, perhaps there was a plausible reason to why supremes usually never had kids, or perhaps it’s fiona’s fucked up ways that drove her to be such awful mother, whatever it is has left a mark not only on cordelia but on herself too.

when cordelia comes back from the hospital - after she and fiona had been trying to reconnect over drinks - fiona is seen clutching one of cordelia’s clothes, visibly anguished and, to her own surprise, in pain. it’s a similar pain she felt in the hospital, hours after hours in that uncomfortable chair waiting for delia return. it’s not just the physical pain of her disease eating her away that drives her to steal some painkillers, it’s the emotional pain of almost losing a child, part of herself in a way, that she never thought she loved that much - her mental state is alluded by the erratic flickering lights and her encounter with the young mother whose baby died shortly after the birth.

the pain she feels for her daughter is something secretive and reserved to moments of weakness where nobody is around to witness and she can convince herself that they were nothing but her illness making her soft. a passing thing. still, she tries approaching her daughter - even more so after the truth about hank’s cheating  is revealed - only to find out that by doing so she just might get her ass on the line. she recoils slightly, frowning and instantly regretting her moment of weakness and decides to avoid touching cordelia for her own self preservation within the coven.

fiona eventually leaves her, gingerly saying she’ll get delphine to help her daughter. her own words about cordelia ring on her ears: delia is a survivor.  we later see that fiona does not seem to be able to detach herself from the situation as much as she wanted to - if anything, the way she brought back that baby to life in the hospital and how she aids marie to keep the baby that was meant to papa ( of course with her own hidden agenda of wanting to offer a soul to him to get on his good side ), fiona’s own lack of touch when it comes to maternal matters does not stop her from wanting to avoid other kids from being abandoned. in both cases, by giving the change to keep the kids, fiona is giving another shot a motherhood - not directly, obviously, but it’s as close as it will ever get.

we eventually see that fiona begins to wear gloves to avoid unnecessary drama ( aka delia finding out even more of the dark shit she's been up to both lately and in the past ) and is visibly relieved once she finds cordelia’s sight restored - even if it had been myrtle, back from the stake no less, who had done it. in that fickle moment we can see the softness in her eyes and demeanour, as if she can breath again.

obviously, realising that she truly does care for her own child is nothing that redeems fiona, but it’s an interesting layer to her character - how conflicted she is with her own feelings. we get a slight glimpse that perhaps things were not so different with fiona and her own mother. later, when fiona finds out in horror what cordelia has done to herself to get her second sight back, the two share another heart to heart moment, but that obviously ends up going downhill (and fiona does note how odd her daughter acts at the time) when the sight is not only restored but shows glimpses of a possible future, one where fiona has killed them all.

including cordelia.

now, i do think part of the vision was reflecting cordelia’s own fear of her mother manifesting itself - zoe did end up dying in the very same way she did in the vision, but fiona had little to do with it. queenie herself, after fiona had just killed madison and beheaded the bastien/the minotaur, had her life saved by fiona.

even though fiona was under the impression that the next supreme was gone, using the vitalum vitalis to get queenie's soul back before it went to the afterlife was a risky move, considering that this wonder, unlike resurgence, uses the witch's very own life force. normally a supreme would not faint afterwards, but being with her own health and powers beginning wane, fiona feels the harsh effect of it a couple of minutes later, when she’s in her room and sends delphine away. she held herself against the wall to get there when she could have asked cordelia to help her or even delphine, and the way i see it that she didn’t ask for help for the very same reason why she declined marie’s steady embrace at first some time later:  fiona hates to be weak, to feel useless and powerless and, worst of all, to be seen in a weakened, fragile state. she wants to keep the image she has painted of herself ever since she rose to the throne: of being invincible and in control of everything and everyone. 

by being the biggest source of danger they have to worry about, she finds a way to protect them, or at least distract them, from the real danger that lies just outside their doors, a danger that only few of them would be able to handle: witch hunters.  because, let’s be honest even though fiona was a hazard in high heels to the coven, they were slightly safer with her on their side than against her.

while i honestly don’t think fiona was really up to kill all of them witches when she sent the axeman there to be killed there, i cannot claim she did it with pure intentions. sure, she did it to find the next supreme while she gathered strength to face her, whoever she might have been, but having a secret agenda doesn’t exclude the real thing here. she wanted out. out of the coven’s responsability of finding her replacement ( to her, it felt as if they were burying her before she had even died ) and out of the potentially dangerous relationship she had with the man.

which eventually proved to be a smart move (well, not for long though lmao) considering how the touches they exchanged were either sexual or violent, even though the little spit trick she did on him was nothing but false memories, there’s no denying that she knew his violent nature could get to her one day. she knew he was just as awful as she was.

perhaps worse than fiona, if that little hint of her knotty pine hell was anything to go by, she was going to spend the rest of eternity not in hellfire and damnation but with a former lover’s hands on her as she’s at the mercy of all his violence and lechery. while there’s something incredibly ironic about this awful situation. her hell seems, at first, his paradise but, the longer they stay like this, with her forgetting the previous days and only having him and dull aches on her body to warn her of whatever the hell has happened in the previous day, the faster he will realise she never loved him, and never will. he will be stuck with someone he loves but that could not love him back for the life of her. 

before all that happens though, we get to see fiona and cordelia meet one last time. even though it would never explain how awful she was, we get to see that to a big extent what fiona had wanted was to protect cordelia, keep her safe but, above anything else she wanted cordelia to be strong enough to stand on her own, to survive and bite back. which cordelia did, on her own and beautifully so. when she does grow a backbone, as she ascends as supreme that is, is when fiona feels at ease, as if her job ( the most important one, and the one she has forsaken for years ) is complete. cordelia no longer needs her, or myrtle or whatever maternal figure she can find. this time she hugs cordelia, clutches to her not as if her lie depended on it, but as if cordelia’s did. with her out of the picture, her daughter’s powers would fully bloom into what they should be once for all && fiona’s sorry for whoever dares to touch this coven again.

she’s not longer the scared little girl fiona dropped off at the academy decades ago, she’s the fucking supreme now. 

she can handle it.

Merry Christmas, @cousinshelley!

You said you liked hurt/comfort, missing scenes, concern, denial overcome by sheer determination and affection and rescues, so I hope you'll like my retelling of that scene from S3 in Derek's loft! 

Read on AO3

*****

The Feeling of Happiness

Derek had almost forgotten what happiness feels like.

He certainly remembers it differently, more vibrant, more all consuming, chasing Laura, being chased by Cora in turn, hugging his mum, winning the championship game.

But then he hadn't been happy since he’d been a teenager, and now he's an adult, finally happy again after all the time that has passed. He has changed a lot as a person, surely it only makes sense that his feelings of happiness have changed, too. What he remembers are the childish feelings of a boy about inconsequential things; what he feels now is the happiness of an adult, in love.

That’s what Jennifer always says - they are in love and they are happy.

It’s hard to remember a time before Jennifer was part of his life. And whenever she’s gone it seems empty without her, the hours passing by in grey monotony when she’s teaching, making them hard to keep track off. The hours when she’s with him are a haze of fuzzy happiness. There’s still the threat of the Alpha pack and whoever is responsible for the sacrifices, but it seems less immediate now than it felt a few weeks ago.

Sometimes, especially when Jennifer isn’t there, the nagging thought enters Derek’s mind that he should be doing more about those threats, should work harder at protecting his pack, what’s left of it at least, but Jennifer’s presence soon calms him again. It’s like she says - rushing won’t help here, they’ll need just a little more patience and time. What they are waiting for Derek can’t say precisely, but it must be worth it if Jennifer thinks so.

And anyways, it’s his pack, his decision. Noone is going to question him.

If only because no one else seems to be around anymore. He thinks he saw Cora once before school a couple of days ago and Peter is surely lurking around somewhere, but that’s it. Everyone’s busy with school, Jennifer says, tests and papers coming up, so Derek doesn’t bother them either, content to wait for them. Jennifer tells him what they’ve been up to anyways - it sounds as though they’ve been little mischiefs like always, especially Scott.

There’s something like an itch at the back of his mind, a similar feeling to having a word on the tip of your tongue, some thought or memory that wants to move forward into your conscious, but is blocked by something. Something about Scott being the mischievous one doesn’t match, but Derek can’t think of what is wrong with it. Scott has always had a knack for trouble, hasn’t he?

The sound of the loft’s main door opening draws him out of his wandering thoughts, and he realises that he never even heard anyone come up the stairs. The adrenaline rush of that realisation cuts like a knife through the cotton ball fluff filling up his brain.

The first thing he notices is his scent.

Warmth is the overwhelming impression it leaves, hot cinnamon and bright sparks. But not the sparks of a fire soon burning to ash, like Kate, but the sparks of firework, of the stars in the sky. Burning yes, but bright and beautiful, not signalling death and destruction. Oh, there’s still danger, a spark is what starts the fire after all, but it’s a threat turned outwards, to protect, not to attack. All of that is dampened right now, though, as if buried at the bottom of the sea, underneath mountains of water and salt.

“Grief,” his mother’s voice echoes in his mind. “That’s what you are smelling.”

Grief and the acid tang of fear.

Derek is moving before the thought has fully manifested, making it to the door in a few big steps, hand curling around Stiles’ shoulder and drawing him into the loft, barely acknowledging Scott behind him.

Stiles’ eyes are wide and his face is pale, shock written all over his features. Derek’s hold tightens and his eyes rove over Stiles’ frame, nose twitching as he tries to figure out whether Stiles is injured, if he’s in pain.

“What is it?” he asks urgently, voice cracking from disuse. He and Jennifer don’t talk much, and when they do, Jennifer usually takes over most of the conversation. If it can even be called a conversation. Derek’s mind feels clearer than it’s been in weeks and many things are starting to look stranger than he thought they did. But he can’t focus on that right now, not with the tears threatening to spill from Stiles’ eyes.

“My dad,” Stiles starts and then has to swallow, whether words or a sob, Derek can’t tell. “My dad, she has my dad, Derek.”

“Who has?” Derek asks, but even as the words leave his mouth another curtain rises and he knows what Stiles is going to say before he opens his mouth.

“Ms Blake. I’m sorry, Derek, I know you and she are, you know, but, she tried to kill Lydia, and then she took my dad. She’s going to kill him!”

Derek’s stomach twists at Stiles apologising.

“We are not,” he starts denying, before admitting: “I mean, we are, or were, I guess, but it’s all fuzzy, I don’t know.”

Stiles’ scent sharpens and his eyes narrow.

“Fuzzy?” he asks and Derek shrugs.

“I don’t really remember, the days just run one into the other. It was mostly just her, and me, happy and in love.”

It’s disturbing to hear himself speak and not recognise his own voice. Already he can feel his panic and worry slipping away, though, buried under a blanket of wool.

Stiles’ face hardens - Derek almost doesn’t realise it; it’s hard to focus, his eyes seem to want to slip away from Stiles as though he’s a piece of wet, slick soap in the shower. That’s what Derek feels like, too, under water, sight and scent and hearing all impeded.

Stiles’ voice cuts through the cotton in his ears, though, sharp and angry: “I’m going to kill her. Twice. I’m going to kill her, make Peter bring her back to life and kill her again. Once for my dad and once for Derek.”

“Stiles, killing can’t be our answer,” Scott interjects from behind him, and Derek had completely forgotten he was even here.

“Scott, she roofied him,” Stiles interrupts him, voice steely, only the tiniest hint of a tremble revealing the outrage that has overtaken his scent. “She whammied him with magical roofies and did God knows what to him, all while pretending to be his girlfriend and telling him they were in love!! You are right, death is too good for her, we’ll definitely need to resort to torture.”

His scent has turned almost rancid with hate, and Derek’s stomach both jumps and turns at the thought that it is for him, unleashed in his defence.

“Stiles, no,” he presses out, keeping his thoughts together somehow getting harder again. “Not for me.”

Don’t dim your light with hate, or something equally cheesy is what he wants to say, but his brain seems to have been replaced with cotton wads, making it impossible to form full sentences.

“Dude, someone’s coming,” Scott suddenly says, and again Derek is shocked at how lacking his senses are right now - or he would be shocked, the panic reduced to a faint sensation under the calming blanket of what must be Jennifer’s spellwork. Vaguely he’s aware of Scott tugging Stiles into the shadows of the loft, until they won’t be immediately visible from the door, but all his focus is now on what approaches from behind those doors, or rather who.

Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel how the spell works to keep him calm, filling him with fake content and a weak imitation of love. “Happy and in love.” Ha! But still the awareness is not enough to shake it off entirely, making him feel trapped inside his own body, inside his mind.

“Derek? Derek, where are you?” Jennifer calls as she’s entering and Derek feels compelled to answer.

“Right here.”

“Thank God,” she breathes, looking and sounding frazzled. Only an hour ago, Derek would have stepped towards her, tried to comfort her. “Something happened at the recital. At the school. Okay, I need to tell you before you hear it, before you hear any of it from them.”

“From who?” Derek presses out, trying to act as naturally as possible, or like he thinks he acted when fully under her influence, but it’s not working. Already he can feel her amping up the pressure, the desire to please her, to agree with her whatever she says growing despite his best efforts to push against it with his own will.

Jennifer’s eyes have narrowed in suspicion, but for now she’s playing along, apparently not yet willing to break the illusion.

“Scott, Stiles. They're gonna tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me.”

There’s weight behind those words, a weight that presses Derek down, makes him want to agree, reassure her. It’s only with the greatest effort that he gets a question out instead:

“What is it?”

“Promise you’ll listen to me,” Jennifer insists and this time Derek thinks he can almost see the tendrils of her magic, feel them snaking around him, binding him.

“I promise,” he says and doesn’t even have to be forced to do so, because it’s not a lie. He’ll listen. But that doesn’t mean he’ll believe a single word she says. It must be obvious to Jennifer, too, because she changes tracks.

“They're already here, aren't they? So... they told you it was me? That I'm the one taking people?”

“We told him you are the one killing people!” Scott pipes up, finally coming forward with Stiles in tow.

Jennifer scoffs.

“Oh, that's right. Committing human sacrifices? What, cutting their throats? Yeah, I probably do it on my lunch hour. That way, I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense!”

Her mask is finally slipping, but her hold on her magic, and thus Derek is as strong as ever. It even feels as though the bands around him are tightening.

“Where’s my dad?”

Once again Stiles’ voice cuts through all the layers holding Derek captive. The sheer desperation in his voice carves into the wall built around Derek’s senses and the sharp mix of anger and fear, fire and acid in his scent blows the cobwebs from Derek’s mind.

But it is the single tear that finally spills from his wet eyes that washes away the last remnants of Jennifer’s control. It’s as though Derek can breathe freely for the first time in weeks, when he hadn’t even realised he’d been close to suffocating before. His thoughts and feelings are finally his own again, not dictated to him, and what overwhelmingly dominates them is relief and gratitude. And worry. For the Sheriff, but even more so for Stiles and what the loss of his last family member would do to him.

Jennifer’s voice distracts him, but now it carries no compulsion with it.

“How should I know? Derek, tell me you don’t believe this!”

It’s a fair enough last ditch effort, but it’s clear to Derek that she knows she has lost. Her hold on him has been broken, whatever spells she wrought, enchantments layered, curses spat, they have no power over him anymore. Derek doesn’t know how or why, but he knows Stiles has played a part. There’s a faint memory of a story his mom once told him that might help explain what just happened here, about a boy who ran with wolves and a wolf who played with fire, but the details escape him for now.

One thing he does remember again though, is the feeling of happiness.

And it’s not what Jennifer tried to press into him.

It’s the memory of Stiles’ smile. His cheering when he’d put down the mountain ash line, the twinkle in his eyes when he teases Derek, the fond grin that’s reserved for Scott.

It’s Stiles.

The Pianist

Commissioned by @zephyrus-gryphon (or more accurately, my way of thanking him for donating to my glasses fund)

A bit of a thought experiment, this piece follows the character from Death Parade, the Pianist. What might she been have like in life?

---

The lights dimmed, bathing the concert hall in gentle shadows until there was only a single white spotlight shining down on the stage. Space filling chatter fell to nothing more than the barest of whispers as eyes turned towards the main attraction of the night. There were no dancers in colorful costumes, no actors ready to belt out emotional lines, just a simple grand piano and a woman in black. She raised her arms, slow enough that it seemed they were breathing deep, and placed her fingers onto the keys.

 Light burst from the stage, grabbing audience members by the ear and demanding that they pay attention for just this short burst of time. It flowed, it swayed, it rose and it fell, it pushed them to the edge of their seats and flung them back until they were helpless to do anything except ride out the storm. If there was magic in this world, this was it, and they were getting perhaps their only chance to see it done by a master.

Perhaps it was lifetimes later when the spell broke; perhaps it was only minutes. The hall was left in stunned silence as the woman stood and gave a polite bow. Only then did everyone leap to their feet, applause breaking their stupor and reminding everyone that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

Among the commotion, a young girl remained with her eyes on the stage, drinking in the sight of the woman in black and the instrument at her side. She closed her eyes, desperately searching in her mind for a place to remember the song by so that she would never lose this experience, this memory. Music had found its way into her life, and she could never go back down the path she had started down. 

With wide eyes filled with wonder and resolve, the little girl tore her eyes away from a dream made manifest and tugged on her mother’s skirt. 

“Mom, I want to do that too.”

Her mother blinked a number of time, face softening with each one as she realized the determination in her daughter’s words. 

“It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. It’s going to take a long time. It’s going to be hard.”

The little girl simply nodded.

“That’s okay. I can do it.”

---

“Beside the bone fractures and the torn muscle tissue, not to mention you have a severe concussion and I still have no idea how you managed to survive a broken neck, there’s probably going to be quite a bit of nerve damage in your hands.”

The words jumbled together after that, meaningless strings of phrases that meant nothing and would mean nothing. Unable to so much as move her head, her eyes flickered without purpose between the harsh white walls and the harsher hospital lights. All manner of monitors for her breathing and her heart rate and who knows what else beeped in steady patterns, the sound maddening in its ever repeating loop. There were so many wires in and around her body that she was honestly surprised the doctors hadn’t replaced all of her organs with gears and cogs.

She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to count her blessings that she was so much as breathing after the car had rolled over five times, the same accident that left her mother paralyzed from the neck down and made her baby brother lose an arm. She was supposed to feel lucky that she would make a nearly full recovery except for some problems with fine motor control.

Piano was all placing fingertips to delicate keys, light touches or hard slams for different styles and genres and time periods, stretching wide for octaves or pinching them tight for smaller intervals, the quick dancing movements of jazz piano or the flowing runs of classical music, all turning precision technique into art. 

Straining her eyes, the girl’s eyes fell on the black hands of a nearby clock. Seven thirty at night. She was supposed to be practicing an accompanist piece for her friend’s senior recital in a month. She was supposed to be hammering away at jazz charts for her band’s performance next week. She was supposed to be memorizing one of Mozart’s piano concertos for her college auditions.

She was supposed to begin learning the song that made her heart sing and fill the world with light and wonder.

The doctor kept rattling off her recovery plan, reading off lists of medicines she needed to take and the exercises she was supposed to do once everything had healed.

The girl said nothing. Shock had dried her tears.

---

Her daily walks to class forced her to pass the music school. At the very least, the practice rooms inside had soundproof walls.

Shrugging her backpack higher up onto her shoulders, the young woman put her head down and picked up the pace as fast as her legs would allow. Vines and moss held the old bricks and yellowing windows together, trailing up towards the small belltower. A small garden sat under the windowsills, white flowers clinging to the last bit of summer’s warmth. It was a refuge for stressed arts students, lost English majors, and environmentalists needing a quiet place to light up and let their minds wander.

Four weeks, and she hadn’t stepped a single foot closer to the building than necessary.

The accident had forced her to pull all of her college applications, spending an unintentional gap year remembering how to sit up and wiggle her toes, bend over and crawl and take her first steps once again, brush her teeth and brush her hair, get dressed and use a knife and fork again. Each day had been an opportunity to give up hope entirely. Each day, she made the choice to try again. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was simply trying to spite the world.

Whatever it was, the first time she walked around the block alone nearly made her cry. 

It had been enough to send her applications in once again.

Not everything had returned. Shoe laces were hard to get right without a helping hand or a half hour of slow, painstaking work. After one too many balls were thrown in frustration, she switched to slip ons. Her handwriting was barely serviceable as chicken scratch, much less something that could be reliably used to take down notes for later. Thankfully, the professors didn’t mind being recorded that much. As for piano, well, there was nothing wrong with a career in education. Teaching the next generation was a noble pursuit, one that would end up doing good in the world.

Not that she had even tried going back, instead jumping at the chance to offload her piano paraphernalia to a neighbor. She shoved sheet music into every box she could find, tore her room apart until she was sure that not a single practice book remained, even offered her standup piano for far less money than it was worth. Trophies were stripped off the wall. Ribbons found a dark corner of the attic. In less than a week, all signs of the offending instrument were gone.

There would only be disappointment if she tried.

She had resolved to keep moving forward, even if something got left behind.

A window flew open, black shutters banging against the sides of the building and carrying the forlorn striking of a piano’s keys. The song tugged at the corners of her memory, winding around her like a siren’s call as images of a darkened stage came to life.

Eyes fixed to the ground, she plugged her ears and walked away.

---

“You know, I wish I had picked up an instrument as a kid.”

The woman looked up from her reading, raising an eyebrow at the other mother waiting in the dance hall. Colorful crayon drawings and messy coloring book pages covered up every inch of wallspace, turning every surface that wasn’t a mirror into a haphazard mess of color with patches of white paper strewn between. Little children bounded across the dance floor, feet moving somewhat in time with slow, steady beats of the man at a beat up piano.

She couldn’t help but tap her foot in time.

“Never learned?” the woman asked, eyes searching for her daughter amongst the sea of black leotards and bunned hair.

“Well, I played violin for maybe a year. Parents didn’t push it, and I thought it was dumb and boring, so I didn’t even bother trying” the mother said with a slight laugh, her gaze far off and filled with a longing sorrow. “But that doesn’t count. I don’t remember a thing. Can’t read music, couldn’t tell you what the strings mean or what one piece is from another. Now I’m just kicking myself because man, wouldn’t that be a cool skill to have.”

“You know, it’s never too late to learn.”

The mother laughed. “Says the teacher.”

She returned with a slight smirk, eyes flickering across the hall and trying to land anywhere else but the upright instrument. With each pass over, it was harder to tear her gaze away. “You know, I actually used to be pretty good at that when I was a kid,” she said, pointing a finger across the way. “Got a lot of awards for it, went to a couple of championships. Really could’ve gone somewhere big with it.”

“So why’d you give it up?” 

“Car crash.”

Words died on the mother’s lips, only nodding in simple understanding as the simple beats faded to a close and a cluster of children ran across the room to waiting parents. There was no spell that had been broken, no masterful revelation of the arts for either the adults or the children.

And yet, her foot continued tapping.

Noticing her daughter more engaged with a gaggle of friends, the woman rose from her seat and crossed the floor, each footstep following the rhythm that had been playing all throughout the class. As a solo instrument, a steady beat was the hardest thing for any piano player to learn. There was no one to follow, no one to lead, just the speed the player wanted to take and the instrument.

She could keep time. The hardest step was already done.

With trembling fingers, she placed her hands on the keys, remembering the feel of a familiar chord, one she still remembered despite just wanting to move on and forget. But how could she forget something so utterly real and raw. One breath in, one breath out, and she struck them down.

The piano was horribly out of tune.

But the sound still rang true. 

---

“Mom, come on, we’ve gotta go.”

“Let me just finish this up,” the woman said, fingers lightly dancing across the piano keys and filling the space with sound. The coffee shop was bathed in sunset’s glow, casting deep shadows on the faces of people buried in their readings and writings. Each table had a small vase of white flowers picked from the garden outside. Paintings from local artisans lined the walls, a motley assortment of picturesque landscapes, blurred street corners, and thought provoking portraits. 

She came every Saturday at two, setting out a small tip jar on the antique piano and playing a number of tunes she had practiced throughout the week. They were never perfect nor polished nor something that would be worth paying money at a fancy venue, but it was good enough for the sleep deprived patrons of a small cafe. The owners were understanding, the people were polite, and she always came away with something by the time night fell.

As it turned out, grading papers for ten years had been almost better physical therapy than what the doctors prescribed. The finesse and grace of her youth was long gone, but she remembered where to place her hands and how to read inbetween the black notes splashed across sheet music. Speed and technical ability would come with time. 

Time, patience, and a lot of practice books.

As her fingers danced to a gentle halt, the song faded into the evening until there was nothing left but the grinding of coffee beans and the occasional muffled cough. Some of the regulars looked up, giving polite claps and nods and finally checking the clock only to realize it was far later than anyone had thought to give attention. Others remained absorbed in their work, eyes focused on piles of papers or personal sketchbooks. 

But even their ears twitched.

The woman stood up, gathering the music back into her satchel and pulling the lid back over the keys. With a gentle smile on her face, she shoved a handful of dollar bills and coins into her pockets and wove through the small mess of coffee tables. Her daughter was waiting outside, arms crossed placidly over a leather jacket.

“That sounded good” she said, flashing a smile and stretching out her arms. “Really good. When’s your concert debut?”

She laughed. “Oh please, I’ve got a long way to go before that happens.”

The two started down the road home, a familiar and gentle tune being hummed along by both mother and daughter alike.

Her daughter knew it as a bedtime lullaby.

---

Low heels clicked on the wooden floor, piercing the nearly silent hall with every step. The audience was hidden behind a curtain of shadow, the occasional face of an old friend or one of the many students she taught over the years just barely illuminated by the stage lights. They stared at a simple white backdrop, at an old woman in her best dress and hair done up nice, at a grand piano set in the middle of the stage.

With every step, the woman saw a new face in the crowd. Her daughter, now grown and setting off on her own path in life, sitting proudly in the front row with a gaggle of grandchildren. Her old colleagues from the school, gathered together and whispering about the after party and if there would be enough cookies and lemonade for everyone. Her folk band, waiting in the wings for their turn to join her on the stage. Students from nearly every class she had ever taught, each presenting her with a new stack of music at the end of the year. The baristas from the coffee shop, collectively deciding that the cafe could afford to take a day off if their Saturday entertainment couldn’t be there. The women from her church group, each having begged for nearly ten years straight before she gave in and took a place in the Sunday band.

The faces went on for what seemed like miles.

Every seat had an expectant face. Watching.

Waiting for something to happen.

She took a seat at the piano, hands gracefully running over black wood almost shining under the lights. Her music was already in place: classical, jazz, folk tunes, renditions of popular songs, a couple of pieces she had crafted over the years.

And before them all, a piece she needed no paper for.

She raised her arms with grace and beauty.

Magic sprung forth.

---

The lights were white. Her dress was black. 

A woman sat at the piano, playing a song that she knew must be played in remembrance of the woman currently resting in the casket. The line of mourners moved with the slowness only the dead can command, winding its way through the pews and far out the door. Besides the ever present swaying and building music, there were only the sounds of choked tears and low confessions.

And still, the woman played on.

“What’s that song?” a boy asked, respectfully taking a seat on the bench. He was one of the grandchildren, old enough to remember the tune from the house but never old enough to learn its name.

“Moonlit Night,” the woman replied, never taking her eyes off the keys. “It’s a song of sorrow, of ages gone by that only exist in memory and will eventually fade away. Your grandmother loved it dearly.”

He nodded slowly, the light in his eyes wise beyond his years. His gaze flickered to the line of mourners, watching them with a curiosity and an understanding only a child could truly make manifest. “She was…really loved, wasn’t she?”

“Your grandmother touched the lives of a lot of people. She was a teacher, a mother, a grandmother, a good friend, a pillar of the community,” she said, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face. “What was she to you?”

The boy glanced over to the casket, heavily obscured with the bodies of the performers, then back to the grand piano before him. For the first time since the doors had opened and the family service had taken place, he seemed to be lost in thoughts that were no longer just sorrow. Minutes stretched between them, and still the song played on, sending out light and darkness, joy and sorrow, magic and the mundane out into the world

“She was a pianist.”

The woman smiled true.

The song began anew.

we’re only here on borrowed time

Sitting on a lovely, smooth, high-speed train from Nuremberg, Germany to Paris.  Yesterday was a day from hell which I'll lightly get into but not dwell on, but for now, I'm so happy.  I'd be remiss to not mention why!!  Part of the reason I decided to book the train instead of flying from Prague to Paris was for many uninterrupted hours to listen to this new book my doctor recommended for me, called "Stress Less, Accomplish More" but Emily Fletcher.  It obviously sounds like a typical self-help book, but I have a crush on my doctor and she really sold it for me.  (BTW she's no older than like, 32, is married with two kids, super pretty, and totally gets me.  She's very female-centric and one time said 'I'll never let you leave here without a prescription for more birth control, we will never let the system be the reason you're struggling with something' after asking if I had enough for the foreseeable future.  Joke's on her, I'm single AF, but it really spoke to me.)  She said it's a book about meditation and although I've tried meditating before, I am a little bit of a natural skeptic as to allllllllll of its listed benefits.  She said this super simple technique helps you sleep better, greatly reduces anxiety/depression, get sick less often, be more effective at work, eliminate jet lag, on and on.  She said she honestly can't say enough about it and it completely changed her life.  I took this as a way to be more like her and immediately bought it.  Also because I wanted her to like me.  Incidentally, she texted me a few days ago inviting me to a new women's group she's developing for people in my demographic who are going through the same things.  Because like of COURSE she did!! She also tells me to call her Casey instead of by "Doctor" and man I should stop now this is getting weird.

Anyway, this book is by an ex-Broadway performer who noticed she was going grey at age 28 (cough cough I am too) and was sick of all the medications she used to treat these symptoms and wanted to get more at the root.  She talks about how simple this meditation method is - 15 minutes twice a day - and how it is literally the best thing she's ever done for herself in her life.  After her course, she asks people how much money it would take to stop meditating.  They all say something between "500 million dollars" and "no amount of money in the world, because what would be the point without everything else meditation gives me?"  I booked the train so I could set aside several hours to listen to the book, especially on this trip, because we all know from the Thailand blog era that being far away in new countries is often what helps me make decisions in life and really self-reflect.  Yes, I hear how extra that sounds, but I'm fine with it.  I'm only on Chapter 5 and I keep intermittently crying!!  We haven't even gotten to the part where she tells me HOW to meditate!  Just her background on why it works and the entire theory behind it.  The author talks about one case in which a guy with advanced Parkinson's started her sessions and after literally the first one, his tremors disappeared during the entire 15 minutes and for 5 minutes after.  She said when they both opened their eyes he asked if she had noticed, and she said she did, and started crying because it was arguably the most profound moment of her career.  I'm crying typing this.  Ugh.  She doesn't claim that meditation will cure chronic illnesses of course, but rather that it's the best thing one can possibly do to supplement medical instruction and for some ailments, it can indeed end up replacing them.  She said after she started the practice, she didn't get sick again (cold, flu, anything) for EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS!!  Because when the body can use sleep at night to fully rest and not just as a band-aid for stress relief, your immune system can work at its intended level and not allow any of these small things to come into play.  You'd think I'd be getting paid for this post, but alas, I'm only 5 chapters in and get ready for me to be even more insufferable than usual when I get home.

Onward.  Last I left off I was in a cafe with Lizzy in Prague.  We stayed for a few hours and actually got a lot of work done!  Turns out my freelance deadlines don't disappear when I go to Europe, hmm.  We then walked to an area called Petrin, which from afar just looks like a tree-covered hill.  It's actually an uphill path in an expansive park that ultimately overlooks the entire city of Prague.  The more we went up, I kept thinking "we must be at the top by now" and then new buildings and castles and paths and orchards would appear.  It felt like a hidden fairyland with twists and turns and new beautiful sights along the way.  I posted a pic on the gram, but at one point we came to a clearing and there was a picture-perfect snapshot of the entire city through the trees.  With the red roofs and striking architecture I again almost felt like crying.  Also saw a bunch of couples making out in the orchards with no shame all, so that was something.  Good on 'em, ay.  We stopped for a glass of wine at the top (duh) and ended up chatting about work/management styles/feelings about jobs/etc.  Something great about Lizzy is that it turns out for everything I'm interested in, she's in grad school for.  I felt like she was the manifestation of all things fascinating to me.  Kinda like when you meet someone really smart who is able to vocalize all the things you feel about things, but better.  Like Hilary, but not my sister.  Like Jay Wong, but not my boss!  We talked about Kitty and her job search and then got into the concept of finding a job by figuring out what you love and what comes naturally to you, and then seeing how you can get paid for it.  She loved hearing about Kitty and SpotX and the proposal she had to do about team-building and customer engagement, and we chatted all about different marketable skills.  I remember crying to Hil many years ago (Hil if you read this, do you remember??) about how I *thought* I was smart but I hated studying/learning/school and my grades reflected that, and how I've squandered all my potential, I'm actually really dumb, etc.  BTW in retrospect I now see a lot of that as my undiagnosed ADHD and I wish I had understood it earlier to get ahead of it, but it's okay.  Hil at the time told me that she may have great grades and a good job, etc., but that she can't walk into a room and command attention or just become friends with everyone, and that skills come in all shapes and sizes and one isn't better than another.  I'M GETTING EMOTIONAL AGAIN.  Remember when my blogs used to be carefree and funny?  Me either.

After that, Lizzy and I walked all through the grounds of the Prague Castle and wound our way down the hill to the Charles Bridge, and stopped for another drink.  Then we got into a whole discussion about relationships and sexuality.  Later, when we were hanging out with her husband, Rob, I found myself saying over and over: "It's like what Lizzy and I were talking about earlier..." and he was like "how did you guys somehow talk about EVERYTHING today?!"  Females, man.  Eventually she went back to her place to shower and I checked into my Airbnb across the street.  Got SO EXHAUSTED and almost fell dead asleep while waiting for her before dinner, but rallied, and so glad I did.  We took the tram up the hill to a nice restaurant for dinner, then went to an Irish pub to watch the Liverpool/Barcelona game.  No one there remembered the epic call from 2010 World Cup that Ned and I quote all the time, but hey, we do and that's what counts. ("AND YOU COULD NOT WRITE... A STORY LIKE THIS.")  We got there at halftime and were ordering drinks at the bar when a guy sitting at the bar was a real dick and says to me and Lizzy, "just so you know, when the game's on again, you've gotta move.  I sat here on purpose for a good view, so make sure you move." Then turned to his partner and we could clearly hear him saying things like, "Fuckin' ridiculous they're standing right there during the game... I'm not going to let that happen... no fuckin' way" Um, a) it's half time. b) it's a bar and we're at the bar ordering drinks. c) WE KNOW. d) fuck off.  He kept talking about us after we moved and she and I briefly thought about starting shit but you know, foreign country and all that.  Luckily he was cheering for Liverpool and they got stomped in the second half to lose the game and we rejoiced. :)

Went to a weird, dark "Books" bar after that and we were almost the only people there.  There were condoms in the bathroom and I took one as a joke to show Rob and Lizzy, but now it's still in my bag and freaks me out every time I reach for my Chapstick.  We went back to their house afterwards and I kid you not, just watched Harry Styles videos.  Turns out they both love him, especially Rob, which is so rich to me.  He was like "this guy is just like coolness personified and he's so talented and he's weirdly attractive in kind of a feminine way but also masculine and he has such a nice voice and swagger...." you'd think I planted Rob to say this to me, but no.  We watched the entirety of his Carpool Karaoke as I told them all of my favorite parts ("I was back middle." "Why am I always Julia Roberts??" "I cry in like, a cool way.")  It's like when someone says to me, "you know, I'd love to know more about the meanings behind Taylor Swift's songs but I never learned, what are all of the albums about?" And I look around expecting that I'm being Punk'd.  Parted ways with them and thanked them for everything and told them I was very grateful for our summer camp relationship.  You know, the kind that is intensely strong, and very brief.  I may never see them again and yet we spent 15 hours straight together on Wednesday and I had one of the best days ever.  See you in another life, brotha.

A series of hiccups led to a very stressful morning on Thursday that I won't fully get into because my poor family already lived through it with me via WhatsApp... but it started with extreme random nausea, (the kind you have a serious internal talk with yourself about: "no.  you are okay.  take deep, slow breaths.  do not throw up here.  you are completely fine, this will pass.  breathe.  you're not sick.  this is just random.  you cannot throw up here.") and then I got on what was supposed to be a train from Prague to Nuremberg with a stop in Schwandorf, but there was a service interruption on the first leg and everyone knew but me.  Probably because everyone speaks Czech and I, ya know, do not.  BTW so far Czech is the least intuitive language I've ever come across.  I could read an entire book in it and wouldn't be able to give you even the slightest context, like you can with French/Spanish/German.  I know, romance languages and all that, but man I really underestimated how important it is to know some of the language when you're traveling through remote towns.  I notice everyone in Plzen has gotten off the train and I think "well that's weird, but maybe they're all local commuters."  A lady comes by and yells at me to get off, I say, "English?" She says, "NO.  Bus." and shoos me off.  In the panic I forget my suitcase from where I stored it - thank the heavens above, it was still there when I realized 15 minutes later and fought my way back on a closed train.  I have such PTSD today and can't fathom what would have happened if the train had left.  Imagine my suitcase just taking off on a train to the Czech countryside by itself.  Zero percent chance I get that back.  Work computer, my treasured leather jacket from Kathy that I swear I'd save in a fire, all of my toiletries and pills and prescriptions...ugh I can't even think about it.

No one spoke English except for a kind man at the info desk who spoke very little, and gave me directions ("directions" is a loose term here, I did a lot of critical thinking and problem solving to vaguely understand what I was supposed to be doing next) to take a bus in an hour that would take me to Stod, where I could then catch my train to Schwandorf and hopefully ultimately Nuremberg.  After a series of mishaps and incredible uncertainty, eventually all of that happened.  I walked into the hotel in Nuremberg and almost kissed the floor.  I had big plans to wake up early and explore, but alas, I'm embarrassed to admit that all I did in Nuremberg was buy some wine/chocolate/gummy bears and stay in all night and sleep late this morning.  Bodies need rest, y'all.  My audiobook author would tell me that my body is in recovery mode after releasing an unnatural amount of adrenaline and cortisol.  NEVERTHELESS SHE PERSISTED!

I'll be staying with rig friend Angie and her family in Paris, and seeing rig Aaron there too.  He messaged me yesterday and said, "so do you want to see museums and such? Or I can show you my favorite brasseries?" I said, "I've been to Paris, I'd just like to day drink honestly."  Luckily he is on board, shawoooooooo.  Oddly there's no WiFi on this train like they said there would be, but it's not that bad because it's so smooth and comfortable and I still have my audiobook.  Will post this blog sometime later when the WiFi shows up.  Cross your fingers that I get the romantic countryside train ride I pined for.  And happy weekend!!!

Ease My Pain and Soothe My Worries

Made for the Sanders Sides Big Bang, @ts-storytime

Summary: Virgil is anxious, surprise surprise. Logan helps.

Pairings: Logan/Virgil

Warnings: panic attack, self doubt, swearing

Apart of the same series: In the Sky We Fall | All Hail the Consort of Darkness | Roman’s Daughters | The Gods are Dead

Read on Ao3

Virgil didn’t know why he was even worrying so much. It had been centuries since they’ve settled. Since Virgil had shared his human name with the other seasons, since they shared theirs with him.

Since they’ve been happy.

And as Patton reminded him near every day, they all loved him.

So why he was making a big deal out of nothing is beyond him. He always seems to get caught up in his own head. Lost in the mess of swirling ‘what ifs’ and jumbled ‘maybes.’

It’s frustrating that he can’t just let himself be happy. Can’t let himself have this . Because it’s too good. Everything is too amazing and wonderful and bright that it has to be fake, right?

When Logan finally arrives at the Hall, Virgil has taken to pacing and muttering under his breath. He feels twitchy and like there’s too much energy stored in him, like he needs to keep moving and hold himself still at the same time and it’s driving him nuts.

Logan moves to place his folders of paper on the desk that hadn’t been there before he got here. He looks worried and for a moment Virgil wonders why before he realizes oh, it’s me.

“Virgil?”

He still hasn’t stopped pacing and he probably looks guilty as fuck or like he’s about to have panic attack or something else equally embarrassing. He forces himself to stop moving. Of course that means he’s stopped himself a good couple feet from Logan which is awkward and strange.

Logan looks even more concerned now. Good job, Virgil.

“Is something wrong? Has something happened during autumn? Are you alright?” He approaches slowly, giving Virgil time to back away and he damn near melts at his thoughtfulness. Logan had always understood his needs even when he himself hadn’t. He knew that sometimes it's best if Virgil wasn’t touched or that he needed hard facts over heartfelt reassurances.

It was why he loved him so dearly.

Virgil opened his mouth to say he was fine. To smile and laugh his strange behaviour away. To greet Logan and shift his attention elsewhere so he wouldn’t ask again.

Instead, his voice began to rise in his throat like shadows and thunderstorms. Building on the tip of his tongue like a wave and Virgil knew instinctively that if he let it crest something bad would happen. He slammed his mouth shut so fast he skimmed his tongue with his pointed teeth, the taste of copper and gold flooding his mouth.

Suddenly Logan was in front of him, hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Virgil? Please answer me?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil’s voice is layered over itself in a way it hasn’t been in centuries. His booming voice echoes inside his head rather than the walls around him and Virgil instantly feels bad when he sees Logan’s pointed ears flatten as if to block out the noise.

Virgil snaps his mouth shut and curls into himself more, pulling his shoulders up to his ears and wrapping his arms around himself as if to keep all the bad things beneath his skin. He chokes back the words that threaten to rise up and buries them deep in his chest.

“You are most definitely not fine,” Logan says calmly, his voice steady and smooth. His eyes are more alarmed. “Come sit down.”

Logan ushers Virgil onto a loveseat covered in pillows that wasn’t there a moment ago. Immediately, Virgil grabs one of the fluffiest pillows and hugs it to his chest, burying his mouth in the soft fabric.

“Hey,” Logan lightly brushes his hand to get his attention. “Look at me okay? I’m here, feel the pillow.” Logan brushes him hand along the fabric, urging Virgil to do the same. “It’s soft, yeah? Or my hand. I’m solid. You can feel me. I’m here. I’m right here.

“You need to breathe, alright? Follow my lead yes? In, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three, four, five, six. Again. Come on.”

In, out. In, and out. In, and out.

Slowly. Slowly, Virgil began to calm. His hands continuously running over the pillow, back and forth, back and forth.

Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes. One, two, three more breaths and he opened them again to find Logan staring back at him. Patience and concern etched into every line of his body.

“I’m-” Virgil croaked, his throat closed off and hoarse. Better than the layered, darkness forever, voice from hell he supposed. He cleared his throat to try again, “I’m good. I’m good now.” Logan gave him one of his patented looks, ‘bitch face #3’. Reserved for Virgil and his bullshit. “Promise.”

Logan merely hummed in response, gathering him up in his arms. The pair sat there for what seemed like hours, Virgil curled up to Logan’s side, listening to him talk about everything and nothing. White noise words that meant little but did the job they were meant to. Eventually, the knot in his stomach loosened and the tension bled from his shoulders.

“The boy at the head of the warfront--you know, the one that’s blessed--his lover was killed in battle a few days ago you know. The carnage he’s wrecking on the opposing army in his grief is massive. I believe just yesterday he fought a river because the sprite looked at him wrong. The other gods are getting a bit worried about him.” Logan hesitated. “A bit like how I’m worried about you right now.”

Virgil looked up at him, apologetic.

“What happened, love? What made you so upset?”

“It…” Virgil looked away, “It was stupid. Nothing important.”

“Anything that matters to you is important.”

Virgil shrugs.

“Virgil, please.”

“I just- I got caught up in my own head again. I know it’s stupid but-” Logan pinches his arm. “Ow!” Virgil glares at him but corrects himself anyway. “I know it is irrational, but sometimes it’s hard to believe. All of this,” he waves a hand around him vaguely, trying to encompass too many things with a too little gesture, “just seems unreal sometimes. Like I made it up and soon everything will go back.”

Virgil turns his gaze to the far wall, as if seeing something that isn’t there. “I think I’m going to lose you,” he says it so quietly that if Logan were anyone else, he would have missed it.

But he isn’t everyone else, and instead his entire being softens in a way it only does with his fellow manifestations. “Oh, Virgil. I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with us for a very long time.”

Virgil huffs a sound that might’ve been a laugh, were it not so weak and filled with sorrow.

“Is there… something else?”

“No! No, it’s just,” Virgil sigh in frustration, pushing away from Logan so he can stand. “I was talking to Patton. And- And he didn’t mean anything by it, because of course he didn’t--it’s Patton. But I just- He said that you do, things with him that you don’t with me. And it’s not- I shouldn’t be jealous or- or angry because those are useless, negative emotions. And it’s not like- You just- You treat him differently. Than you do me, that is.”

Logan looks at him for a few heartbreaking moments before slowly rising from the couch but he doesn’t move closer to Virgil. Not yet.

He speaks slowly, choosing his words with care. “Well… Patton is different than you. He thrives on emotions and action based displays. While you,” Logan raises a hand for Virgil to take and after a moment he does. He raises the appendage to his lips, lightly pressing a kiss to the inner wrist. “My Moon and Stars, are more inclined to words and assurances. Never mind that physical affection other than touches or chaste kisses have never really been apart of our dynamic. I’m aware you and Roman engage every so often, but I have little interest in it. I do it to make the others happy, and you had never seemed to need the extra mile.”

“You don’t need to do something you don’t want to for us, Logan.” Virgil states. Because Logan needs to know this. Needs to know that he shouldn’t and doesn’t have to do anything he’s not comfortable with.

To Virgil’s surprise, he huffs a laugh. “Of course not. It’s not like that. Physical relations are fine, but it’s an activity than can be replaced with something else, like reading, or puzzles. I don’t dislike it, but it’s not my favorite pass time either.”

“Oh… well. Thank you.”

“Of course.” After a moment of silence Logan continues, Virgil's hands still cradled in his. Logan sweeping his thumb across Virgil's knuckles. “Do you wish to bring our relationship to a more physical level?”

“Not really. I like hugs though.”

Logan nods as if expecting the declaration, and opens his arms. They stand in each other’s embrace for a long while, just breathing each other in. Taking what little reprieve they have before winter sets in and Virgil has to wait another year to see him again.

But he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he knows more now. He’s known that they love him for years, but now he thinks he might be a little closer to believing it.

Sure they’ll be time where he worries and second guesses, but when doesn’t he?

He can let himself have this. This wonderful happiness because maybe he deserves it, maybe he doesn’t. But they chose him. And he’ll be damned if he wouldn’t give them Chaos herself if they asked for her.

He could never deny them anything.

40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me

You probably already know me decently well or else you wouldn’t be reading this, so instead of rehashing the basic (boring) “getting to know me” questions I dug a little deeper and asked myself about what’s really important. Here is the result: 40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me. Enjoy!

1. What Parks and Rec character am I?

While I could argue for almost everyone on the show I’m probably most like Ben Wyatt: a white, brunette, and sad man who eats soup alone on a park bench (minus his love of math and rollerskate kink)

2: Top 5 books?

To Kill a Mockingbird, The Secret History, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Help, 11/22/63

3: Top 5 movies?

Chinatown, Star Wars, Rear Window, National Treasure (nick cage can be good in small doses ok) and Nancy Drew (2007)

4: Top 5 shows?

Parks and Rec, B99, That 70′s Show, Mad Men, Arrested Development

5: Top 10 most iconic vines?

1) Chris is that a weed/Mary is that a police

2) Hi My Name is Trey I have A Basketball Game Tomorrow

3) Rebecca It’s Not What You Think

4) The one where the girl is just hitting elmo with a baseball bat

5) Anything Kermit but esp. the one where he falls off the building

6) You Know This Boy Got His Free Taco

7) 2 Bros Chillin in the Hot Tub

8) Waelcom to my Keeetchen we have bananis and avocadis

9) Whoever Threw That Paper Your Mom’s A Hoe

10) i spilled lipstick in your valentino bag (yOU SPILLED WHAHULAUG LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINE WHITE BAG)

6: Where do I see myself in 21 years?

One of my dreams in life is to marry the heir to a prestigious winery out in wine country. I have a vision of myself at 39, waking up at 10 AM on a tuesday and standing on my private balcony in my state-of-the-art spanish stucco villa. i am drinking a chardonnay despite the early hour whilst i observe my grape empire in my silk negligee. the only event planned for the day is a portrait sitting for my rottweilers (4 of them), for which i have arranged spaces in the family’s private art gallery. i am aging well despite the harsh california sun and my partner and i have a trip to tuscany planned for the fall. it’s a charmed life and i never tire of eating grapes  

7: Top 5 favorite cryptids

1) Nessie (Nessie is a true lady I believe in her)

2) Mothman (not real)/ el chupacabra (possibly real)

3) the kraken (definitely real)

4) Bigfoot (not real but a legend anyways)

5) the yeti (real only in russia)

8: Do I Believe in Ghosts

It’s a complicated topic and of course we will likely never know for sure but the short answer is yes. in my opinion though, what ghosts are is the important question: are they really the dead coming back to haunt the earth? are they just manifestations of energy that the mind interprets into recognizable shapes? hallucinations? or is it wish fulfillment and the reduction of tensions on a heavy conscience? our brains are capable of powerful things, but it begs the question as to whether if a human desperately wants something to be true does the human mind have the power to make it true? c. s. lewis mentioned once that he never understood the ghost debate since, given that ghosts are real, they have no real power over us or anything interesting to say. but i believe that just goes to show how the mystery is far often more important than the solution.

9: Best/Worst Month of the Year

Best: May/November (spring/fall in full swing, holidays, time off school, great atmosphere) Worst: August (too dang hot & start of school)

10: What is one of my embarrassing secrets

I didn’t learn how to tie my shoes until I was nine (velcro ftw)

11: What is my Dream Date

We go cryptid hunting in the woods and have a picnic in the dark; you supply dogs for entertainment and guardianship purposes, i supply drinks and the cryptozoological myths we are chasing. Afterwards we get gelato

12: Top 3 Presidents

(this is based solely on arbitrary opinion not policies) 1) Barry Obama 2) Lincoln  3) Millard Fillmore (his name is funny) 

Honorable mention: jimmy carter (he was the only noncorrupt man in office for like 30 years before barry)

13: Top 3 Vice Presidents

1) John Adams, if nothing else but for the drama this man caused 2) Walter Mondale 3) the big boy JB 

Honorable Mention: Nichard Rixon

14: Top 3 Secretaries of State

1) Madeline Albright 2) Henry Clay 3) Elihu P. Washburn 

(note: secretaries of state have the funniest names, like Hamilton Fish (1869-1877) rest easy Mr. Fish)

15: Worst Activity they make you do in middle school PE

Middle school P.E. is the worst in general but I’m going to say either grading you on your shotput skills (?) or BMI (??) or just the tuesday run in general (luther kids know)

16: Top 4 Worst Scents

1) Washing a knife covered in peanut butter 2) Really cheap perfume that they sell in checkout lines at convenience stores 3) Olives 4) organic deodorant

17: Top 7 Conspiracy Theories

1) The Denver Airport is an underground military fallout shelter designed to protect the 1% from nuclear warfare

2) A Roman pope adjusted the Gregorian calendar so that his reign would fall on 1000 AD so we’re actually living in the year 1783

3) Paul McCartney is dead and was replaced prior to the Seargant Pepper album by a lookalike named Billy Shears

4) The state of Wyoming is a myth

5) Avril Lavigne died and was replaced back in the early 00’s

6) The Titanic sank because too many people went back in time to prevent it from sinking

7) Not to be cliche George Bush and the military-industrial complex orchestrated the 9/11 attacks (jet fuel can’t melt steel beams and all that)

18: Inside jokes with myself

I’m not usually a “gamer” but every year without fail someone introduces me to a game exactly at finals time and I get hooked and it ruins my gpa and study habits. This year it’s Stardew Valley, last year it was Dream Daddy and the year before that it was undertale and I blame Jojo for absolutely all of it bc they are usually the instigator. Anyway, every year I joke with myself about what game will derail my grades this year

19: Top 5 Worst Tactile Sensations

1) Putting tights or leggings on wet, hairy legs post-shower

2) Running fingernails along cardboard

3) Sweating in a turtleneck

4) Having wet, salty hair after swimming that drips down onto your back and makes the top of your shirt damp

5) Reaching into a bag of grapes and only finding really soft, slimy ones

20: Best Cat I’ve ever encountered

One time my friend and I were leaving Romancing the Bean and walking back to her car and the fattest, fluffiest, softest ginger cat I’ve ever seen came trotting up to us and flopped over at our feet. He was such a good boy!!! And so friendly with strangers!! He was very well groomed and just wanted some love, and whenever we stopped petting him he would jump up onto our legs and leave little wet paw prints everywhere, I wanted to kidnap him

21: Best dog I’ve ever encountered

All of them

22: Best squirrel I’ve ever encountered

My dad has befriended a squirrel named Nutty that likes to sneak into his office when the door’s open and steals peanuts. if the door is closed he’ll bang on it and scream until we acknowledge him

23: If I were a furry what would my fursona be

I do not know because I am not a furry. HOWEVER someone who is well-versed in furry matters told me once that I would be one of those long, nervous dogs like a greyhound maybe and tbh I could see it

24: Favorite/Least Favorite Disneyland Rides

My favorite has always been haunted mansion, except for the halloween season when it’s nightmare before christmas and then it’s thunder mountain. I just love the outside atmosphere of the house bc I’m a slut for that southern gothic architecture style. Worst is splash mountain because there’s no seatbelt and LOGICALLY i know I don’t need one but it doesn’t stop me from having a panic attack every time I get on and we go up the big hill as I worry about being flung from the toboggan across the park

25: Least favorite restaurant within 10 mile radius of my house

I live over by Porto’s so I am #blessed to be surrounded by some really dope food. However there is a hipster place a couple of blocks over in Toluca Lake that only serves bizarre food like fried chicken in maple syrup with waffle fries and it’s surprisingly bland, so the lack of taste combines with how expensive it is probably makes it the worst (it’s also forgettable bc I can’t even remember its name)

26: Rank of JBHS history department according to how good of a parent they would be

9.Mr. Bixler - I have never had this man so I can’t say shit. NA/10

8. Ms. Snowden - I’ve never had her either but I’ve heard enough about her between Burroughs and Luther to know that this woman is kind of scary, intimidating and uptight, all things I personally do not desire in a parent. 2/10

7. Mr. Hatch - I love Scott Hatch but he is a tremendous mess of a man. Judging by his wife’s instagram photos his idea of parenting is taking naps while cuddling his children and letting his wife do the rest of the hard work. Plus he seems like the type to be too wrapped up in his own melodrama and too busy hangin out with his best friend Edward Frankenbush playing Xbox to pay much attention to his kids. However, he did skip the first day of school to take his daughter to kindergarten so he gets points for that. 4/10

6. Mr. Lee - Mr. Lee is a very respectable guy who seems like he does a very good job providing for his family. He’s ranked as middle of the road because he’s a naturally private person so I can’t speak to his parenting tactics or personality much, however the few stories he shared about his daughter were very cute and he does the typical teacher/parent things like making her his screensaver on his computer. Overall, a very quality dad and man, 6.5/10

5. Mr. Fitz - Kyle Fitzgerald is similarly a mess of a man, but the difference between him and Scott Hatch is that he seems to make an investment in his kid. He always talks about current events in terms of what idiocy his poor daughter will have to put up with which shows his devotion to her well-being and survival in a confusing world. Also he brought her in to go swimming once while I was working at Verdugo and I got to see them having a great time on the splash pad and it warmed my heart. Great dad 7/10

4. Mr. Piper - Richard Piper is such a good father but in a detached way. He loves talking about his son and wife just as much as he loves talking about planes. The real kicker? When he talks about taking his son ON planes and geeking out over history together. He also asked all of his classes for people looking for tutoring work when his son was struggling in math which is so cute. Good guy Rick gets an 8/10.

2. (tie) Mr. Frankenbush and Ms. Hacker - Ed and Jan are both beautiful people. I know Ms. Hacker is #divisive but I personally am a big fan and would die to have her guidance in my daily life. She’s always interested in what’s going on in people’s lives and sure she’s definitely chaotic but it’s a loving chaos that’s only looking to help other people. I’ve not had the pleasure of having Mr. Frankenbush but he always is hanging out with his son Joey and they love coming to the Burroughs pool and playing water polo together; they spend a lot of time together since his wife works so much and they have such a buddy friendship. Both of these lovely people are super devoted and invested in the youth and would make great parents. 9/10

1. Mr. Clark - A god. We don’t deserve this man and I can’t sing his praises enough. Were were all lucky enough to be Greg’s children I don’t think evil would exist in the world. 11/10

27: Worst book I read for school

Hands down Tale of Two Cities since it’s the only one I’ve never finished. Dickens just doesn’t do it for me I guess plus I get really tired of the one dimensional characters and how much he romanticizes Lucy

28: Favorite little-known tidbit of history

When Richard Nixon went to Soviet Russia as Eisenhower’s VP during the cold war his secret service agents detected higher than usual amounts of radiation coming from Nixon’s hotel room, so they started talking loudly about it bc they knew the Soviets had planted buds and were listening. Within like an hour the radiation had vanished and they never heard anything about it again so man Soviet’s ain’t sly

29: 5 Places in Burbank That Are Definitely Haunted

1. Coral Cafe for obvious reasons, look up the ghost on youtube

2. The View seems like it would have some kind of el chupacabra-esque creature prowling around, maybe a mountain lion hybrid

3. Fry’s Electronics

4. The abandoned train station under the bridge

5. The LA river by the equestrian center

30: Rank of all the AP classes i took in order of entertainment value

9) AP Bio: I liked bio but the class wasn’t very entertaining. There’s not a lot of humor in bacteria and cells, and Mr. Van Loo is much more of a calming than a humorous and chaotic presence, so overall it takes the hit as the least entertaining class.

8) AP Stats: Math is similarly not very entertaining, but Mrs. Hollingshed’s erratic personality gives it the edge over Bio. Definitely more humorous than expected of a math class.

7) AP Econ: I bombed econ and business/money isn’t very entertaining but Jan Hacker made it so thanks to her chaos (love her though).

6) AP Euro: European history is incredibly iconic because, spoiler alert, Europeans are idiots and historically speaking everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I just wish I remember it since I think idiot sophomore Lily slept through most of the class so needless to say I didn’t soak up much of the entertainment value. If it were up to me I’d take it over again and maybe stay awake this time.

5) AP Lit: Lit was just as much challenging and intimidating as it was entertaining, so it balances out. Mrs. Caluya is notably iconic and the books we read were all pretty interesting so it gets a high vote from me.

3) (tie) Gov/APUSH: History is always entertaining in my eyes since people do stupid things out of pettiness. These two tie for different reasons: Mr. Piper is a great teacher and that mock trial we did for the industrial age was great, but the subject was also extremely entertaining overall. I loved reading about how John Adams made making fun of him illegal. Gov was mostly just entertaining because of Mr. Hatch and how salty his is about the government. His sarcastic comments about how corrupt everything is gave life to an otherwise pretty lifeless subject.

2) AP Lang: aka the class with no curriculum, or the Kuglen Hour. I love Mr. Kuglen so much and he is responsible for 99% of the amusement in the class. I somehow learned how to be a better writer by listening to him complain about Trump and everything else under the sun for an hour every day so it was well worth it. Also who doesn’t like a class where you read Dave Sedaris for homework?

1) AP Psych: Without question, this is the epitome of entertainment. Psychology is just a mishmash of people trying to figure out why humans are as stupid as we are and why we do dumb things. Add in all the iconic psychologists and history and a class led by salty Mr. Hatch and you have a recipe for an entertaining year.

31: Top 5 Iconic JBHS teachers that I NEVER had (no particular order)

Mr. Peebles: A quirky man who I would have loved were I any good at math whatsoever

Mr. Arakelian: Band kids hate him but the stories I hear are so frickin iconic that I wish I could be an honorary band kid for a day and see the horror firsthand. If you have Arakelian stories please send them my way I’d love to hear about your pain

Mr. Frankenbush: A sad boi who everyone should get to experience and I regret never having.

Dr. Madooglu: He was so kind to me after the failed anti-trump lunchtime protest last year and he didn’t even know me. I wish I could’ve experienced him as a teacher.

Mr. Clark: The man, the myth, the legend

32: List of some iconic swim horror stories

Charlie breaking his hand after he lost a race and punched the gutter as hard as he could

Some idiot JV boys smearing poop all over the Burbank High locker room

The entire JV team getting Burroughs swim banned from Islands

Me almost passing out at the Los Amigos meet last year after I didn’t eat or sleep all day

Everyone always feigning illness or injury to get out of swimming the 4x100 relay

Getting in trouble for watching boys volleyball practice instead of doing the weight room sets

Every. Single. 5AM morning practice before school.

When coach martin finally figured out how periods work and suddenly we couldn’t use that as an excuse for not swimming anymore

33: What Office Character Would I Be

A mix between Angela, Oscar, and Kelly (we love our dramatic icons)

34: #1 Thing I’d Bring With Me to a Desert Island

Castaway for instructional purposes

35: What Would I call my memoir

Schadenfreude

36: 7 Best Buzzfeed Unsolved Episodes (no particular order)

This is one of my favorite shows so these are my recommendations:

1. 3 Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons - one of the very first and best episodes; a 45-minute special where the Boys investigate the Winchester house in San Francisco, the Island of the Dolls in Mexico, and the Sallie House in Kansas

2. The Strange Disappearance of D. B. Cooper - A man going by the name of Dan Cooper hijacked a plane, demanded money and passage to Mexico, and then at some point jumped out of the plane and was never seen again. To this day no one knows his identity or his fate despite some of the ransom money turning up in a river somewhere.

3. The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills Hospital - Ryan and Shane explore an abandoned asylum in Pennsylvania and some creepy stuff ensues. One of the best supernatural episodes

4. The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist - An almost hilarious story (with reenactments!) about a seriously inept security guard and the loss of some of the world’s most beloved paintings. This was one of the first episodes after they started making money and the production quality is off the charts 

5. The Scandalous Murder of William Desmond Taylor - Another excellent reenactment story about one of Hollywood’s first and biggest scandals, the suspicious murder of a leading film producer.

6. The Enigmatic Death of the Isdal Woman - A woman’s body was found suspiciously burned in the European wilderness and no one knows who she is or how exactly she was killed. Watch if you like espionage!

7. The Strange Killing of Ken Rex McElroy - An entire town seemingly rose up to murder a douchey, violent pedophile. One of the only episodes that’s actually happy?

37: 6 Things I would Have Changed About High School

1. Definitely would have joined yearbook as soon as I could

2. Wouldn’t have forced myself to swim for all 4 years; if the passion’s gone then you shouldn’t force it. It’s just a sign that you need to move on to better things

3. I would’ve taken more AP’s and maybe tried another stem ap class. I’ve always been self-conscious about how bad I am at math, but I’ve gotten a little better over the years and instead of being too afraid to challenge myself I would’ve liked to see how I could do and prove myself.

4. Worrying less about grades!! I killed myself over my grades for like three years and then I just kind of let myself go. I would have let myself have who knows how many more hours of sleep and taken the L on a couple of assignments; I’m still learning that my health is more important than perfection.

5. Meeting the right people! I wouldn’t have restricted myself to a few friends and would have branched out more by joinng stuff like JSA. It sucks meeting the right people your senior year and realizing that I was hanging out with the wrong people this whole time.

6. Spanish instead of French.

38: What Would I Name My Farm Animals if I had A Farm

I’d definitely name them all after female Shakespearian characters. My cows would be Hippolyta and Titania from Midsummer, my horse would be Desdemona from Othello, my chickens would be Gonereil, Regan, and Cordelia from King Lear and my goat would be named Gertrude from Hamlet

39: Most Useless Talent I Have

I have a really strong internal clock so when I don’t think about it too hard and guess intuitively I can usually predict how much time has passed/what time it is without looking at a clock. It’s really only useful for estimating how much time I wasted standing in the shower staring at the wall

40: Top Regret After Writing This:

Writing this instead of studying for my econ test in seven hours.

Thanks for reading!