#i had a ficlet in progress that i was going to post today

[wastemanjohn]

spn 1.09 // lana del rey - pretty when you cry

[velvet-games]

ficlet inspired by this post @theautotrophic made. it ended spiraling into something very different lol but it's still kind of the same idea? I just needed to explain why vox joins the hotel in my universe.

“Ugh! How is this still happening?” Charlie moaned, turning off the TV. “I don’t think we can make any progress if we don’t start creating our own news coverage.”

“What was that?” Alastor stepped closer to the couch she and Vaggie were slumped on, suddenly curious. 

“It’s Vox. He’s making almost every channel about how much of a failure the hotel is – even though we just proved redemption is possible – and I think it’s actually gaining a lot of traction.” Charlie sighed. “It’s just … I thought everything would get better after we saved the day and my dad could help out, you know? But we’re still fighting just to get people to give us a chance.”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re the ones with actual proof. I’m sure if we make our own announcement–”

“Wait! Alastor, you made that commercial last time, right?”

“Oh, uh, about that, Charlie–”

“You can make more to counter Vox’s stuff. Hey, and you were friends with him at some point too, right? So you know how to deal with him–”

“Charlie.” Vaggie spun Charlie around to face her. “Sorry. It’s just …”

“Vaggie made a deal with me so that I would never have to work with those picture boxes again,” Alastor finished cheerfully. 

Vaggie visibly deflated in shame. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.” Her expression became even more miserable as Charlie seemed to deflate too.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Well, maybe you could–”

“But!” Alastor interjected, holding up a finger. He was far above drawing any attention to the Vees unprovoked, but this was about as good of an excuse as any. “The purpose of the deal was to prevent me from having any obligation to use the medium for producing entertainment. I would be happy to … take care of the interference from Vox.”

“Great!” Charlie’s eyes shone for one perfectly naive second before her face twisted in suspicion. “Wait … what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, just mess with his wires a little; nothing extreme, dear.”

—

A loud BOOM shook the building as Vaggie failed for the third time to get the TV to turn on. She sighed. “Goddammit.” None of the TVs were working, the Vees’ website had crashed, and Alastor had been gone for the last 24 hours. Vaggie could almost see the expression of horror on Charlie’s face when she found out Alastor had absolutely done more than “mess with his wires a little.” Vaggie rushed to the window, and yep. There it was: a giant red deer demon with shadow tentacles shooting out of it as a much smaller blue smudge darted around with trails of electricity following it. She sighed again. “Charlie? Come down; Alastor’s being an asshole again.”

—

“And I had a great idea for a new show that was gonna air today too!” Vox narrowly dodged another hit from Alastor’s shadows. 

“Another new show? My dear, you really are proving just how much you’re throwing rocks at the wall in the hopes that they’ll miraculously stick.” Alastor turned as Vox appeared behind him in a shower of sparks. “And was it really your idea? Or did you just have your little unpaid underlings come up with it for you?” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I think we’re far past that possibility, darling.” Alastor chuckled, finally managing to grab Vox before he could jump into another streetlamp. “What was the idea? Another reality dating show with manufactured drama? Really, is anything you produce even remotely original nowadays?” The shadow tendril threw Vox into a nearby building. What remained of the terrified pedestrians scattered like ants as Vox fell, several bricks going with him. “What a pity. You used to at least come up with half-decent stories, even if the endings were always laughable.”

Vox groaned, trying to hold several shards of his broken screen in place. “N-No one cares. No one fucking cares what you think; I’m the one who built the empire. You have like, three listeners on that ancient radio show.”

“And each one of them has told me how much they like it, that it’s their favorite, even!” Alastor leaned down. “Would anyone watch you without the hypnosis, without other people’s hard work masquerading as your own?” He smirked. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?”

That last part caused Vox to look up, teeth bared. Several wires shot out of the building behind him and attached themselves to his head, lifting him up to be at eye level with Alastor. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?” Alastor kept smiling despite the surge of electricity that hit him; he quickly batted Vox out of the air, cutting off the attack. 

“I’ll have you know that nearly everyone who meets me adores me, whether they admit it or not,” Alastor replied smoothly. “Including you.”

Vox was on his knees, wires falling as he coughed up what became a puddle of blood. It was always startling how red it was, despite the mechanical nature of most of his body. “Yeah, have a fucking laugh.” His voice became quiet, muffled by static. “Have a fucking laugh about the fact that I loved you and you threw me away like a box of scraps.” He sniffed, standing up shakily and wiping a trail of red from his mouth. “Well, I’m the one with all the influence now, aren’t I? I’m the one with an actual team. You were fading even before you left; I bet you really did ask an angel for help, just to stay fucking relevant. Most of the other overlords aren’t scared of you anymore, and they’ll fucking kill you when none of them are.” 

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “You loved me? Is that why you ran away with that moth to make ‘entertainment’ even you won’t watch?” He started shrinking to his usual size, stepping forward. 

Vox scrambled back, one hand generating a few weak sparks. “Val loves me.”

“Valentino knows you’ll gnaw on any affection you get like a starving dog with a soup bone.” Alastor pushed Vox to the ground again, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Vox’s throat. The sparks in his hand died. “He knows you’re too selfish to make a real connection with anyone.”

Tears welled in Vox’s eyes, round and filling up nearly all of what was left of his screen. “I-I still love you,” he managed to choke out quietly. 

Alastor tightened his grip. “You love money. And I was stupid enough to care for you before I realized that.” Vox’s eyes managed to get even bigger as he started to really choke. “But you’re just dirt underneath my feet, and I’ll kill you every day that I have left here so you remember that.” Alastor just watched Vox’s face for a moment, then pulled out a small knife with his other hand. “Actually, you know what? I have angelic steel with me. I think I’ll just finish you here.” He drove the blade into Vox's side before he could respond, prompting a pained, strangled sound. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d feel it for hours as he bled out if no one helped him. 

“Alastor!” a shrill voice called. He turned to see Charlie’s panicked face, her chest jumping with labored breaths as she stumbled to a stop. “Stop! Stop; I’m sure he’s had enough.”

Alastor stood up, giving one last petty kick to Vox’s leg. He put on an upbeat tune. “Hm, alright. I was just about getting bored with him anyway. How about we go get lunch at that new place around the corner? I’m absolutely starved!”

“I–” Charlie blinked. “No, Alastor, he–” She looked around his shoulder, flinching when she saw the state Vox was in. “Shouldn’t we help him?” she whispered. 

“And whyever would we do that?” 

“Well, I mean …” Charlie started, then appeared to brighten a little. “Actually. I have an idea.” She straightened her shoulders, putting on her “aggressively-kindly” face and voice. “As princess of Hell, I command you to leave the Vees and come help with the hotel. And make up with Alastor.” She glanced at Alastor apologetically before mumbling quickly, “onlyifyouwanttothoughyoudon’thavetodoanythingyou’renotcomfortablewith.” 

Vox blinked, managing to look unimpressed despite bleeding profusely and only having a quarter of his original face visible between all the cracks and glitching. “I would literally rather kill myself.”

Charlie blushed all the way to her ears. “O-Oh.” 

Alastor just burst out laughing, making a show of spinning his cane as he stepped closer to Vox. “Well, old friend,” he said, lifting a heeled boot above Vox’s chest and pressing down. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary if you refuse our help.” Vox sputtered a little as Alastor continued to push. “How about this: Lucifer can heal your wound, and you take a temporary break from working with the Vees, just long enough to help us create a presentation for the angels.” He let his gums show with a smirk that probably contained enough smugness to kill a horse. “And I would love to have you for dinner the night you leave. Is that a deal?”

Vox immediately blushed despite clearly being too lightheaded from blood loss to fully understand what Alastor was saying. “You bastard” – Alastor pressed harder – “Fine! Fine, yes. It’s a deal justliftyourfootholyshitfuck–”

“Wonderful!” Alastor lifted his boot, leaving Vox coughing and bending over on his side. “Now. you two have fun; I’m afraid I need another visit to the tailor,” he said. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his cuffs. “Oh, and Vox? It wasn’t angelic steel; I just think desperation suits you.”

Alastor was gone before the cries of indignant surprise assaulted his ears.

[infiniteeight8]

unprompted ficlet

(The next prompt in my queue is deeply angsty and I felt weird posting it today, so it’s on hold until tomorrow.)

I love the romantic Valentine’s art and fic I’ve seen today, but my writing brain has occasional bouts of contrariness, so my own contribution is going to be asexual aromantic Stephen in a queerplatonic relationship with Tony. 

I have an idea about how this fits with Stephen’s relationship with Christine, but that didn’t really fit in the ficlet, so I’m glossing over it.

-

It happens slowly, so slowly that when Stephen finally looks back at the progression, he can’t pinpoint when, exactly, it started. After Titan, certainly, but that’s pretty much just the same as after meeting Tony, which goes without saying. Maybe it really started a year after Thanos, when Christine asked him, with concern in her eyes, when he was going to “get back out there” and Stephen had been completely unable to figure out what she meant until she specified romantically.

It hadn’t even occurred to him. He hadn’t thought about dating in years. Hell, he hadn’t thought about sex in years. With Christine’s concern as impetus, he considers it and finds that it just feels… unnecessary. He has a fulfilling calling. He has the companionship of his friends. There’s nothing missing.

While he doesn’t make any conscious decisions after his conversation with Christine, in hindsight, that’s probably when Stephen stopped thinking of some things as being reserved for a romantic partner. Why shouldn’t he walk arm in arm with Wong, or sleep in the same bed with Tony?

Nearly all of Stephen’s friendships have developed their own quirks by now, but none so much as Tony.

Lying across the couch with his head in Tony’s lap as the man carefully, gently massages Stephen’s hands, he thinks there’s not really a good word for what they are to each other. They sleep in the same bed on any night that other commitments don’t prevent it. Tony occasionally dates. They spend more of their downtime together than apart. Stephen’s belongings are primarily, but not exclusively, kept in the Sanctum and Tony’s in the penthouse. They’ve mentored two kids together. 

“You’re far away,” Tony murmurs as he sets one hand down on Stephen’s chest and reaches for the other. 

“Mmmm. Not so far,” Stephen says. 

“What were you thinking about?” There’s no concern in Tony’s voice, only curiosity; he can tell when Stephen is relaxed.

“Semantics.”

Tony laughs and looks away from his work on Stephen’s hand to meet his gaze for a moment. “Semantics, really?”

“Really,” Stephen says, a smile curving his lips. “About things that we don’t have words to properly describe.”

“That’s philosophy, not semantics,” Tony argues.

“Now you’re talking semantics.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Some things are too complex to be described in words.” For a moment, Stephen is surprised at the romanticism of that comment: the engineer is normally all about quantifying things. Then he goes on: “That’s what math is for.”

Stephen laughs and flicks a spark at Tony’s nose: a taunt, because Tony has yet to find the math for Stephen’s magic. Tony sticks his tongue out in response.

Life is good.

[blackrevell]

// WIP WHENEVER AND FOREVER

Been tagged by @ouroboros-hideout, @olath124 and @wanderingaldecaldo recently, thank you!

2D | 3D | Writing | VP

The last several days over here were quite turbulent and I suppose I gulped a bit too much of negativity, as nothing I did so far felt right or decent. That's why this journal will re-cap everything that's piled up in my project files since the previous WIP Whenever post: (x)

// Digital Art Still thinking of So Mi x Myers painting, the sneak peek of which you saw the last time. I think of it daily, I promise. Some day I will finish it.

Beyond that one, there's also a Myers' study that I'd want to complete. Been a while, but who knows.

// 3D

Modelling felt much more dynamic lately. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Blender is awesome, and I've had a blast working in it again.

For starters, I embarked on an endless highway of finally fleshing out my OC. The progress on the character herself is slow (well, at least there's no deadline and no rush). In terms of looks, she is a connoisseur of sunglasses and gathered quite a wide collection over the years. Here is one design out of the 4 planned:

Planning is not my natural forte, though, which often produces unexpected results. Had a night when I went too hard on caffeine and couldn't sleep, decided to spend the extra brain-overdrive time modelling a dress I saw on Pinterest. It's not even within my character's usual clothing style, but who's gonna stop me? Me? :pain:

What you see above is a low-poly preview, there's still lots of work to be done even in terms of mesh, much less texturing and weight painting (which is going to be a total horror).

Last, but not least — one of my frens on Discord was looking for sock garters to port for a character, so I thought I could help out a bit. Currently testing it for mesh clipping; texturing here is a "demo" solely for preview purposes.

// Writing

My friends and co-brainrotters somehow pulled me into writing, even though I've been notoriously bad with it my entire life.

At the moment, there's one ficlet in progress focused on character exploration for my OTP Nightwing (OC x Kurt). It is a wild mix of text with bits being deleted, and changed, and added, so I'll keep it under wraps for now.

The sad sack days did lure me into writing out small shards of feelings, which I have no idea how to classify. Vesna and I have a terminal disease called "Rosalind Myers and Kurt Hansen are bitter exes", and their tragic relationship just doesn't let me go:

Lies, lies, lies, how have I been blind to The knives cutting my sanity That you brought with you And I thought would only undo The enemies we could Conquer together and Share their bones and Share our hearts Too bad the taste of my blood Was your favorite hue In the palette of what I could Ever bring you

There's been a couple of other small writings that I won't dare to post (cause extra cringe)

// Virtual Photography Not much to report here, just want to say that it's been a pleasure to finally try my hand at proper VP with Kurt and his peachbutt (x).

I hope I'm capable of learning better and better, because photography has been a tempting idea for me since I was a kid, and I have already got concepts for several photo sets to do in Cyberpunk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Not tagging anyone in particular, my brain is not functioning today. Just wishing everyone a nice day and evening. <3

[soongtypehuman]

Update on Things

It’s been almost 4 months since the craniotomy that removed the tumor that was crushing my brain. The hope was that the surgery would cure the mild to moderate cognitive issues I was dealing with, or at least stop them from progressing. I’m sorry to say that wasn’t the case, and many of the problems have gotten dramatically worse.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, least of all because it’s boring. My short-term memory, ability to read and write, as well as speak fluidly, have all been affected negatively. I’ve just had another EEG to see if the seizures are continuing, and will have another MRI this week to assess the amount of damage to my brain from the tumor that had been affecting it for years and any damage caused by the surgery, and to check for a stroke. It’s a lot of fuckery I don’t have all the answers for yet. Once I have answers, then I can begin a more exacting treatment for the problem(s).

Unfortunately, as I said above, the problems are affecting my ability to write.

Planning and outlining have always been the backbone of my writing process, but even more so now. Everything is slower and requires a lot more concerted effort and lots of revision.

In short, I’m not able to create as quickly as I once could, although I’m hoping that will change eventually with enough rehab and figuring out new ways to work around my setbacks.

Ideally, I’d like to continue posting every Sunday, just as I have for over a year, but I might have to accept the idea that, as far as things go at the moment, I might not be able to use my writing time for both a weekly ficlet while also finding the time, energy, and focus to work on longer fics. For the time being at least, I might have to switch to posting every other week so I can allot more time and attention to the longer fics.

I just don’t know yet and can’t set anything in stone either way.

But I did want to say something about all of this because I was worried people might see me posting less frequently or posting work that isn’t as long as it used to be and think that I’ve gotten lazy or lost interest. That couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, my love of this series is one of the few things in my life that brings me joy and that I can count on (my most beloved @monotremer being the main source of that), and one of my biggest motivators in rehab is trying to return to being focused and prolific where my writing is concerned. But I also have to accept that some things may never return to the way they were.

In any event, I hope to keep posting work regularly, but hope everyone understands if I’m not always able to do that.

Updates on what’s coming:

I was working on a longer fic to post to the Data/Lore collection today, but didn’t finish it, so there’s a shorter ficlet in the non-explicit Positronic Rivalry collection instead. The D/L fic should be ready to post next Sunday (fingers crossed). And while all that’s happening, I’m still working on the multi-chapter in the main series that got much bigger than I originally intended. It’s slow going, but it’s going, and my hope is that it’ll be ready to post in July.

[smallblueandloud]

2023 fic roundup

2023 was the year of the comeback. in 2021, i wrote about 25k; in 2022, i didn't even keep track. meanwhile, my total wordcount last year was 119,226 words. while that doesn't come close to my 200k from 2020, i am arguably prouder of last year and what it represented. my writing isn't dead! my abilities haven't vanished! i can have fun making art again :D

as always, the summer was the most productive for me. you can see that i wrote more in the spring than the fall -- this roughly corresponds to how i was doing during those times, lol. i had a Much Better spring semester than the fall. september was very rough, i had a very bad time, and it meant my mental health suffered for the rest of the year. but hey, at least i was writing essays :')

some more scattered thoughts:

i was arguably pretty consistent this year? may/june/july all had about the same wordcount (roughly) and i think that's cool. my goal isn't to be doing NaNos, it's to be writing consistently, so i'm very happy with this

ao3 says i published 67k in 2023. minus the first chapter of something out of a dream, which was published in 2020, i believe that's 65k or so total. i wrote 72k of fanfic last year, meaning that there's about 8k from last year still sitting in my google drive (a rough eyeball at my WIPs folder confirms this). these numbers don't QUITE make sense to me, since i used a fair bit of old material in what i published last year, but i'm not going to think about it too hard

i published fic for a whopping fifteen fandoms in 2023. nine of those were fandoms i'd never published anything for before! i am so, so proud of this stat. i remain multifandom as all hell and seeing that represented in my work makes me really :D

two fics -- be amazed by the sky and i got your back (and you got mine) -- were crossovers! i'd only ever written one crossover before (stay all day in the sun, which i still love dearly) and it was fun to play in these playgrounds (mostly by sticking the librarians into other universes, xD)

i published 25 fics last year! and five of those fics were less than 1k, which i also really love. this year i really tried to let go of my idea that my fics Had to be more than 4k (and super polished) before they could see the light of day. i think my writing has been more fun and less stressful because of that.

i polished off 4 multi-year WIPs last year: but the verse is sweet, something out of a dream, don't wanna see you go (but it's not forever), and all we can do today. it felt so, so good to finally get those out there. the only one i have left from The Great Hiatus of 2021-2022 is éponine de bergerac. i will finish that someday, but i'm letting her take her time, because she deserves it. (i DID make good progress on that fic, which is something at least!)

most popular fic of the year was sit there in your heartache, which. is a spirk fic written right after a relevant episode, so not a surprise lol. the fic that surprised me most is actually the sisterhood of the travelling main character plotpoints -- i kinda expected that one to vanish quietly, but the hatchetfield fandom is WAY more active than i expected! which is very cool :D

the fic with the fewest hits was sidenote, which doesn't surprise me, since the librarians isn't a very active fandom and it's a rareship within the fandom anyway. the people who DID read it were very sweet, so i am very grateful for them. (i'm doing fic with the fewest hits because i feel like it's better to focus on that than What Didn't Get Kudos)

i started 2024 with 5 WIPs. i actually already finished one (and then immediately started its sequel, whoops) (shoutout to the ds9 modern au, i'll make a real post about that sometime). none of these fics are particularly progressed, but i'll keep working on them and try to find the Finishing A Project Dopamine from ficlets if i need it.

i didn't really have any Writing Goals for 2023 aside from doing any writing at all, lol. i think for 2024 i want to try to get more consistent with my writing -- instead of doing x number of words per month (which usually happen over 3-4 Big Writing Days), i'd rather try to write for 5 days out of every week, or something like that. we'll see what i can get done.

in the meantime: thank you guys for listening. i'm proud of what i did last year, and i'm excited to see what happens next year :D

[softtransbf]

Thought about finding out Winn can sing, and this pre-relationship ficlet demanded I write it down. (timeline wise, it's post him getting over Kara but before he left catco)

----------------

Shit I can't believe I left it here, today of all days. The elevator felt even slower than usual as my mind raced with all the ways having forgotten my laptop at work was going to blow up in my face. Breathe. It's okay. I still have time, I can still have it ready by tomorrow. The doors finally opened, and all of my attempts to manage my anxiety went out the window.

I started to run to my desk, but something stopped me dead in my tracks after just a few steps. It was faint, but definitely there- someone was singing, a jaw-droppingly beautiful love song from one of my favorite musicals. It's 8 pm, who the fuck is still here? And who here has a voice like that? The voice was so amazing, I completely forgot about my laptop. I needed to know whose it was.

It took less time than I thought it would- he was sitting at the desk right next to mine, headphones in and lost in his work, completely unaware he wasn't alone.

Winn Schott. Of course it's Winn. I'd been making real progress in letting my one-sided crush go; of course the universe wasn't gonna let me off that easily. I felt my heart swell and break all over again, and it snapped me out of the spell his voice had cast on me. Shit, right, my laptop. Fuck. He can't know I'm here. I knew I'd do something stupid if I had to talk to him then and there, alone and more in love with him than ever, so I quietly took the long way around the office, grabbed my laptop, and snuck back out.

Once I was safely in the elevator, I finally exhaled. Mission accomplished, he didn't see me. Now to bust ass so Cat doesn't kill me tomorrow and try to forget what I heard.

At least, I thought he hadn't seen me. What I didn't know was that as soon as the elevator doors closed behind me, Winn stopped singing, took out his headphones, and ran a hand through his hair.

"'Hey, Simon, what a surprise, I definitely wasn't thinking about you. I'm basically done here, do you wanna get a drink or something?' Well done, Schott."

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 23: Time Loop Stats

Okay, since Troped Time Loop’s official, actual writing period is ending in a couple hours, here is the status of my monster of a multi-chapter, novel-length fic.

Total chapter count: 5

Chapter 1: Written and mostly edited

Chapter 2: Written and partially edited (not much)

Chapter 3: Written

Chapter 4: Partially written (not much)

Chapter 5: Not written (outlined)

Total scenes left to write: 11

I also have a working title, though I think that it’s probably going to be the actual title, and I’ve played around with the summary and notes in my head, though I haven’t actually written any of that down. So. It’s still a lot but I’ve definitely made progress. I’m trying to be more proud of myself for writing as much as I have given that I started this fic at the end of July, so less than two months ago, and less bothered that I didn’t finish it on time. That wasn’t really realistic anyway. The biggest issue at this point… well, the two biggest. One, I’ve basically decided I’ll post the first chapter, even without the whole thing written. I need to finish the editing and I’m not in a rush to do that but when it’s ready, it’s ready. So I’m worried about what the effect of that will be, if there will be a response and it will inspire me or if I’ll just feel stressed and demoralized and less likely to work on it. And the second issue is that it’s nearly October and I have other Halloween stuff to write. I’ve signed up for the Troped Halloween exchange, so that’s a pretty big one and a necessary commitment, and I really, really want to write Halloween ficlets to post at the end of the month. I really don’t now how long it will take me to complete the draft (let alone the editing) of the time loop, and it’s possible I’ll need to take a break to work on these other things. I’m still trying to be optimistic—the truth is that the early era of writing this fic showed me that I can do it quite fast if I put my mind to it and commit to writing on the weekdays, and it’s just some tough mental times that have gotten in the way more recently. Plus, the weather’s supposed to be getting better, cooler, and that helps with my energy levels a lot. But it’s just hard to say. Hard to predict.

I did write today even though it was also a big sleeping day, and I’m glad I did. I’m a little close to judge the actual product but I think it’s good. The opening was an idea I’d had in my brain for a while so I think it’s inevitably kind of a downer to see it written down but… no one else saw the version in my head or lived with it like I did. It’s good. Now only… most of the rest of the chapter to go. It feels good to re-set with a new character and at least a couple new non-repeat scenes (I’m so tired of the repeating scenes! Damned time loop that I don’t know how to do!) and I just… I hope I can write another scene tomorrow, and really make some progress on actually finishing this thing!

[kerra-and-company]

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜ or ❛ today isn’t your day, is it? ❜ :>

Hello hello, it is now YOUR turn to be the recipient of a ficlet that's at minimum a month overdue! Congratulations! xD (And so sorry it took a while!!)

You get what I think is the first actual piece of writing I've posted about Cal and Daisy, my main folks from GW1 :)

Warnings: mentioned injury, blood

The stone floor is hard under Cal’s knees, and they can feel every crack running through it. Distantly, they can hear shuffling feet—the medics, or Rurik, or someone else entirely. It’s the echo of a thought compared to the limp hand they hold clutched to their chest, watching Daisy’s rise and fall.

Blood seeps into their shirt, making it cling to their body, but they pay no mind. Someone had found jam earlier, they remember vaguely. It had gotten in their braids somehow, and Daisy had laughed louder than she had since before the Searing.

The sheets are stiff and rough as they press against Cal’s arms. The tight bandages around Daisy’s head and on her cheek look softer. They hope so, at least.

They’re not sure how long they stay there on the ground holding her hand, but it’s dark when she stirs. Cal jolts, scrambling to attend to her, limbs stiff and slightly clumsy.

“Daise?” they whisper. It comes out raspy and fear-tinged.

She coughs once, wincing, and her eyes slowly open. Cal is lost in the ocean.

“Hey, love,” Daisy says, quiet. “Hey.”

She lifts her hand—the one that’s still in Cal’s—and feebly reaches for the claw marks on Cal’s chest, just barely visible above their shirt.

“Today…today isn’t your day, is it?”

“You’re the one in a hospital bed, you know,” Cal chokes out, feeling their lips turn up into a wobbly smile. “By the Six, Daise, you—”

Are really hurt. Could’ve died. Almost died.

“—scared me,” they finish, their voice breaking.

Several emotions pass over Daisy’s face very quickly before settling on something so painfully fond that Cal wants to cry. A pulse of magic passes from her hand into their chest, and they can feel their injuries fading from open wounds to raised scars.

“Didn’t stop for treatment?” she asks, softly teasing.

“Save your magic for yourself, you absolute—” Cal groans, dropping their chin down and stifling the end of their sentence into Daisy’s sleeve. Muffled, they add, “You need to focus on getting better.”

“So do you.”

Cal doesn’t have a good retort, so they just sigh, feeling the warmth of their own breath heating the fabric. “’m not planning to go on patrol tonight, you know.”

“Good.” The exhaustion is becoming progressively more apparent in Daisy’s voice, and Cal looks up to meet her eyes again. “I love you,” she murmurs. “Stay?”

Cal leans forward and kisses her briefly, gently brushing their fingers through her tangled hair.

“Of course,” they say, and it’s as easy as breathing. “Always. I love you too.”

[tennessoui]

I absolutely love your KUWSK snippets and had to read them all after discovering the first part on ao3! (I should also work but I'm non stop giggling instead)

May I ask for: anakin being stressed out (big deadline coming up, handling the kids, work & cooking being too much) so obi-wan wants to help him out? Like he tries to cook for the family for once but I remember you saying that he can't cook to save his life? maybe rope the twins into it as well as a nice bonding moment

hello!!!! i've been meaning to write this for ages and i kept getting side-tracked/didn't have the time to sit and write a proper ficlet, but I did today! Here's 1k now, and I'll post the whole thing tomorrow afternoon(ish) on ao3. I mis-remembered the prompt until it was too late to really change directions, but so this is more of a sick!fic than a stressed out!fic but I do promise KUWSK Obi-Wan does step in even when Anakin is not sick to help with the kids, the clean up after cooking, helping them with homework, keeping the house tidy etc etc

anyways here is the beginning of sick fic! (SET about a month before The Kiss, 2 years after Obi-Wan and Anakin and the twins move in together)

-

It’d be much easier to take care of Anakin when he’s sick if he would actually admit to being sick.

“Skywalkers don’t get sick,” he’d insisted just a day ago. Obi-Wan had raised a very pointed eyebrow towards the twins who are looking quite pathetic, sniffling in their beds and coughing into their fists.

“That’s their Amidala genes,” Anakin had said and then sneezed into his elbow.

Obi-Wan had known at that moment that the next few days would be very awful for everyone involved.

But Anakin is making it much worse than it has to be, he really is. Thank god it’s midterm week, so Obi-Wan can finagle his TAs into proctoring the exams. Thank god he has four TAs for his biggest lecture module, so that they can grade them all too, which means Obi-Wan just has to read through and mark up his capstone students’ midterm essays.

Which he can do from the comfort of his own house turned Emergency Skywalker Walk In Clinic.

The twins had woken up with a fever and a sore throat on Wednesday. They’d never been sick in the two or so years they had all lived together, and Obi-Wan, admittedly, had not known how to handle it.

Anakin, in a surprising twist of fate, had been much more level-headed about the whole thing. He’d called the school to let them know the twins wouldn’t be coming in, and had asked Obi-Wan to run to the pharmacy before his classes to pick up some meds for them. And perhaps a thermometer.

(“I can’t believe you’re forty-four and you don’t have a thermometer.”

“Well, that’s not fair. I have one in the kitchen.”

“That’s different and you know it--”

“Of course it's different, I was just theorizing that perhaps having a kitchen thermometer actually makes up for not having a person thermometer.”

“Yeah, and instead of giving the kids baths and changing their sheets, we can just baste them in their own fever juices too!”

“I’m going, I’m going.”)

He’d calmed down in the face of Anakin’s own composure, but then on the way to the pharmacy he’d listened to a podcast episode about devastating and lifelong effects certain illnesses can have on children, and he had managed to work himself up into a stressful tizzy by the time he parked the car.

The amount of products he’d bought, Obi-Wan can admit now, was a little over the top. Anakin had certainly laughed when he’d come back through the door, not even bothering to take his coat or shoes off--even though the no-shoes-inside rule is his rule--and started unpacking the four plastic bags worth of medical supplies.

“Well, now I’ll feel bad if the kids aren’t sick until June,” Anakin had said, picking up one of the cough syrups to examine the label.

“That kind will make them sleepy, but this kind tastes like grapes,” Obi-Wan had muttered. “And this kind is okay to give to children under four.”

“The kids are--”

“I know how old the kids are,” Obi-Wan had snapped. “This is called being prepared.”

“This is called diagnosable,” Anakin had laughed and then ducked out of the way when Obi-Wan chucks a package of band-aids--he’d panicked, okay--at his head. “Hey,” he’d said after a moment, coming forward and placing his hand on Obi-Wan’s elbow. The contact had burned through the layers of clothing he’s wearing. “They’re going to be fine, Obi-Wan, really. I’ll be home all day taking care of them, and I’ll make chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight.”

“I can make chicken noodle soup for dinner,” Obi-Wan had protested. “You don’t have to do everything.”

“Obi-Wan, they’re already sick,” Anakin had shaken his head with a grin. “The point is to try and feed them something they’d want to at least try to keep down.”

“I hate you,” Obi-Wan had sighed with a quirk of his lips.

“I love you,” Anakin had said, as if that was something he said on the regular, reaching out to take the thermometer from his hand. Obi-Wan’s grip had gone slack though, causing the thermometer to clatter to the counter. “Like a brother,” Anakin had tacked on hurriedly and then winced.

“Right,” Obi-Wan had coughed, wondering why the addendum made his chest feel tight and strange, like missing a step on the stairs. “Well. Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Anakin had said, looking even more mortified.

“Right. Ah. So. I’m. Going to campus. If the twins need anything else, please let me know. I’ll pick up whatever you need for...dinner on my way home. Just text me.”

“Will do,” Anakin had agreed, staring resolutely at the cabinets over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Bro.”

And to his credit, Anakin had texted him with a long list of things they’d need from the store.

He’d just also failed to mention his own rapidly declining health. Obi-Wan had arrived home to Anakin coughing up a storm in the dining room and the twins bundled up and bleary-eyed in front of the television.

The chicken soup had not been made that night because Obi-Wan had not allowed Anakin anywhere near the kitchen. Instead he’d fed the children toast and applesauce and let them keep watching their show until bedtime.

Anakin had been left alone for the most part, as Obi-Wan had been convinced that Anakin would see reason himself and stop working as he started feeling progressively worse.

That had, of course, been too much to expect.

“I can’t believe you’re twenty-eight and don’t know how to listen to your body when it’s trying to tell you you’re sick,” Obi-Wan had said, lowering and slowing his voice in a bad imitation of Anakin.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You’re right, you couldn’t get through that whole sentence without coughing at the moment."

“I’m going to bed.”

“Please do. And for god sakes, Anakin, leave the laptop down here."

“Good night, Obi-Wan."

[goldenspecter]

Cosmo’s TMNT Masterpost

(Rise, 2003, 2012, and others)

Here’s where you can find pretty much everything I’ve ever made for the TMNT fandom! Fanfics here[haven’t gotten the courage to post fanart here yet], hope you guys enjoy my work. Reblogs are appreciated!

Fanfics

1. Finding my way home(and moving forward)

Out of sheer curiosity, Leonardo and Donatello looked up, and there it was.

A portal.

Had the Universe really taken pity on them? Had it really heard his desperate prayers for one more chance?

It was not like the ones they had seen before, it was an irregular circle made up of several shades of blue, completely different from the perfect and symmetrical pink triangles of the Kraang.

Leonardo and Donatello looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, "Should we go in?" Donatello asked, almost shouting, drawing the attention of the others, who quickly turned to the portal and to see each other, then the two brothers in question.

"It's our best bet, and our only chance," replied Leonardo.

Or rather, with the 2012 kids' home gone, they end up in the Rise verse after a strange portal shows up. Therapy is needed, and start the slow process of healing from their trauma.

(Rise/2012, Work in Progress, written with @keeryd​ )

2. Strawberry Cookies:

"Mikey here was just about to tell me what we could do to cheer Raph up while he's sick," Donnie says. "Mikey continue?"

Now that Mikey had both of his older brothers attention, he grins. "I was thinking we make strawberry cookies!" He does his jazz hands as he says this and is met with looks of something that he can only put as disapproval. "What?"

"You do know that everytime that we have tried to make it-" Donnie starts.

"We mess it up and Raph has to come in and save our butts from burning the cookies?" Leo finishes, "What would be different this time?"

Mikey huffs, "We are doing this so we can cheer him up and to prove that we can do something on our own!" he says, "That's what got Raph sick in the first place!"

Or rather, Raph gets sick after helping his brothers recover from the poisoned pizza puffs. Mikey, Donnie, and Leo take a shot at baking cookies for Raph while trying not to burn their kitchen down.

(One shot, complete)

 3. Chicken Fried Rice:

“I only poured in half a pot of rice,” Donnie complained.

Mikey stared at him, really stared at him before he spoke. “You do realize that rice expands when cooked right?” he said, “You do realize that?”

Donnie was silent, looking away from Mikey.

“Donnie!”

Donnie makes chicken fried rice. Mikey watches over. Shenanigans and brotherly fluff ensue.

one shot in which Donnie is in the kitchen, cooking rice and Mikey, Mikey is positive he should have gotten Donnies braincell. 

(One shot, complete)

 4. Tea Time with Hortense and Patty: 

"Sooo," Raph starts. She's always been weird with awkward silences. "Are these grandma kinning hours?"

"Grandma hours!" Mikey exclaims excitedly. "Grandma time!!!"

"Ah, if it isn't our favorite girl and her little brother!" Hortense tilts her head over in their direction slightly. "Are you going to join us? We were just about done arguing," she says.

---

Today is Tea Time. Two old ladies have a tea party, one of them forgets to bring the food, and they are joined by Mikey and Raph. A good time is still had.

(One Shot, Complete)

5. One of those Days

When Donnie woke up this morning, he woke up with the familiar thrum of anger and irritation running through his body with more intensity than normal. Rubbing the crust out of the corners of his sleep-addled eyes, he jerkily grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm. It's one of Those Days, Donnie noted. Those Days where Donnie isn't capable of handling Mikey's over-enthusiastic optimism or Leon's chaotic trickster nature. His safest bet is to hang out with Raph, his calm and mellow demeanor always helped calm down before Donnie went on a rage fest and say anything he couldn't take back.

Or, Donnie and Raph help each other out, balance each other, and make things a little less difficult.

(One Shot, Complete) 

 6. Gift Hunting: 

“It’s Leo. Tiny Leo,” the voice answers. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say until you say yes first,” Leo says. “It’s really important though.”

Angelo is silent, weighing his options. He could say no, he really could-

“Please, Angelo, you’re the only one who can really help me with this,” Leo pleads.

Rather, Angelo and Leonardo go out in the streets of New York to help the blue banded turtle find gifts for his brothers' sixteenth mutation day. Bonding and fluff ensues.

(One Shot, Complete)

 7. Aftermath:

“Raphie bear?” Mikey called out, gently tapping Raph, with relief washing him when Raph turned his head to face him. “What’s the matter teddy bear?”

“Th-thi-this doesn’t feel real.” Raph stuttered out, his voice cracking as a sob broke through. “I’m not really here. Neither are you and everyone else. I’m still alone with Draxum and his minions. No one’s coming to save me because I was stupid enough to get captured and no one wants such a worthless turtle like me.”

In which Raph was kidnapped and tortured by Baron Draxum and his family has to deal with the aftermath of it.

(One Shot, Complete)

 8. To Be the Eldest

Donnie, the second youngest in his family, wishes he was the eldest for once. Then one night, Donnie gets his wish granted and now he was three small turtles in his care.

Donnie adjusts to being the eldest, comes to some realizations, and makes a promise to his (now) younger brothers.

(Work In Progress)

 9. Wanted: Snaggletooth 

Dr. Noel bent down on his knees in front of Raph, a manic smile that showed too many teeth coming about on his face speaking of pain and suffering that has yet to come. He stretched out his hand towards Raph’s face, placing a thumb under his mouth, pressing into his snaggletooth. “Beautiful. Just as I expected,” he crooned, pulling out a syringe and injecting it into Raph’s neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into his system.

Raph’s eyes fluttered as he started losing consciousness, watching through hooded eyes as Dr. Noel's smile grew even wider, with his last thought right as darkness consumed him being that he hoped his family would find him before it was too late.

Post S2 Finale, Dr. Noel remembers Raphael, his snaggletooth, and manages to find and capture the red masked turtle. It doesn't end well for Raphael.

(Work In Progress)

 10. Dimensional Differences:

They bow. Not like one of those pretentious bows like she would do at Yokai parties and not like the ones she would do with her brothers when they hosted tea parties. They bowed deeply, heads stopping at her stomach, one hand closing around their fists. This spoke of respect and honor.

And that unnerved her a little bit. Why are they bowing so deeply?

“Thank you,” they said in unison. It’s unnerving to April and she felt the uneasiness coming from her brothers too.

“Why are you thanking me?” She said finally, voice sounding foreign to her.

“You saved my life?” Baby Leo said slowly, voice tinged with confusion. “That was an honorable thing to do?”

April blinked, “It shouldn’t be considered honorable for doing what any big sister would do,” she said. “That’s not honor, that’s just being a good older sibling.”

In which April, Sunita, Casey, and the turtles end up in the 2012 verse after a mishap with Leo's ōdachi and stay with the 2012 turtles until they can go home. They find out a lot of things that don't quite jive with them. Some things are the same, some things are different and they're not quite sure how to handle those differences.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

 11. Mind Meld Part Deux:

“Oh thank Galileo that you all are back to normal!”

“What do you mean we’re back to normal?” Raph questioned, pulling back from the hug. Mikey and Leo also pulled back to stare at Donnie. “We’ve-we’ve always been like this?”

Donnie went quiet. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Donnie, what did you do?”

The brothers found out about Donnie’s Mental Intelligence Reprogrammulator. Arguments are had, words are said, words that tear a rift between him and his family, and it’s up to Donnie to earn his brothers’ forgiveness. The only thing is, will he get it?

(Work In Progress)

 12. I'm a little kid and so are you(don't you go and grow up before I do):

The 2003 turtles somehow, someway ended up in the Rise verse, with Rise Splinter and his turtle tots, and stay with them while the boys try to figure out their way home. 2003 Raphael got attached to his tiny counterpart the moment he laid eyes on the tot. (Raph centric)

(Rise/2003, Work In Progress)

 13. Dimensional Self-Isolation

Post S2 Finale, Raph finds himself trapped in the 2012 universe and has a difficult time coping with all of the differences that this world has in store for him. From new villains, unfamiliar familiar faces, and the way the 2012 boys and Splinter treat each other and him, Raph has a heavy plate on his hands during his long term stay.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

14. A Collection of Turtle Thoughts

A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Turtles I've been writing since October 2020. Ranges from humor to hurt/comfort, I have it all.

Requests are open. SFW only though.

(All Iterations, Work in Progress)

If y’all reblog, read, and share my work, I’d really appreciate that! Anything and everything is appreciated, money or not! Thanks folks 🐢💕

[antihero-writings]

Little ficlet for @phmonth2021's VNC anime countdown, day 8: Noé and/or Murr

Noé found the cat wandering through the woods by the manor. His fluffy white fur was matted, dirty and disheveled, and the look in his multicolored eyes was one of great disgruntlement.

And he did not want a bath.

Noé had always been rather good with animals. Well, not so much good, just that he thought he was good with them, and that was enough. Once he found a wild raccoon, said “Look Teacher, a cat burglar!” and ran up with hands outstretched so it could receive its helping of pets.

This cat, however, was less keen on pettings than the raccoon.

He did not want to be petted or stroked, he did not want to come inside for a bath, or be otherwise relieved of his dishevelment.

Noé was determined, and did not halt in his pursuit. “Giving up” was never really in his word bank.

After Noé spent far more time than most children would chasing him, this cat came to realize that he was not going to win such a battle against a determinedly kind and loving vampire—(who had become extra fond over the course of the chase)—and so ultimately found himself (much to his chagrin) arriving at the front door of a manor in the little vampire’s arms, his legs flopping down, revealing his fluffy belly.

How humiliating.

Noé grinned, and asked Teacher if he could keep him. Teacher, leaning down to observe the cats expression—(he made a noise at him that sounded like a warning; not a growl, not a meow, and not a purr, something in between)—said that the question was indeed could. If he could keep him, then he may as well.

Both Teacher and Louis—(“Look, Louis! Look what I found in the woods today!” “Mmm. You really are so weird.” Louis folded his arms and looked away, determined not to betray the fact that he rather liked cats)—leaned against either side of the bathroom’s doorframe as Noé tried to wrangle the creature into bathing. He’d recruited Dominique to help, but even together, and even though the cat knew he wasn’t escaping, they made little progress, and received a lot of scratches.

After a good half-hour of scratches and struggling, (and Teacher and Louis chuckling in the background), Louis sighed, abandoned his post at the doorframe, and walked up to the trio. The cat stared at him, sizing him up, making that grumbling meow-growl-purr sound—(meow-purr...'Murr,' perhaps it could be called?)—once again.

"You are going to have a bath, or you’re going to [REDACTED] [REDACTED]. So, which’ll it be?”

Noé and Domi bristled in horror at this, too stunned to even berate him.

The cat seemed to have somehow understood him, for when Louis calmly and brusquely reached out to wash him, (however reluctant), he sat and let him do so.

Domi and Noé collapsed onto the bathroom floor, feeling exhausted and betrayed—(by the cat, or by Louis, they weren't quite sure).

As Teacher wrapped bandages around his scratches, he looked into Noé’s face and asked gently,

“Are you really sure you want to keep him, after all this?”

But Noé nodded, looking towards the cat and Louis. He had decided the moment he saw the cat in the woods—wild and stubborn yes, but also lost and abandoned, (and furthermore he knew that there really was a little prince in there)—that he belonged to him.

“Well if you’re going to keep him you ought to give him a name.”

Noé smiled like he was hiding food in his cheeks. He already had a name picked out.

“Murr.”

[chocoholicannanymous]

...As Stupid Does (Teen Wolf) 18/19

AN: As you might have noticed I've updated the chapter count, making this the penultimate post. It is, however, what I consider the last chapter of ...ASD. If you'd like you could read this and have the story (and the series) end now. The last chapter is going to be what I intended for a fifth and final part of the series, but I've decided instead to post it together with this story, I guess as an epilogue of sorts.

(Oh and yes, I'm aware that this chapter is shorter than many of you would prefer. It should, tbh, have been part of last chapter, but that didn't happen. I'm choosing to focus on writing the last bit of this 'verse instead of trying to pad this chapter.)

Part 17, Part 16, Part 15, Part 14, Part 13,  Part 12,  Part 11,  Part 10,  Interlude,  Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)…

As Stupid Does

part 3 of the Stupid ‘verse

18

Stiles knows that so many of the problems between him and Derek (or really, him and everyone) were caused by him not thinking things through. For someone so obsessed with research he's always had a strange way of jumping in feet first, without looking. He's heard it all his life – not stupid, but just doesn't think. It's the adhd, he supposes.

Regardless of why he is that way it's something he's been actively trying to change with Derek, to think before he leaps and to look at things from every angle. He doesn't always succeed, but he tries.

Well. If he's honest with himself he passed the line between thinking things through and over-thinking them a while back.

He's so, so tired of twisting every idea back and forth until it feels worn.

So he leaps again.

Toronto went well, right? It was a huge step in the right direction, days of being together the way Stiles wants. Surely they can have more of that? So the next time they talk he slides in a casual-only-in-the-term-of-he-wants-it-to-be-but-it-truly-isn't-at-all invitation for Derek to celebrate his birthday with him in LaPush, complete with staying in Stiles' cabin.

The lightning-quick “yes” makes him almost float.

Of course, that doesn't last long. The closer his birthday comes, the more Stiles thinks about what it means that he invited Derek to stay with him, about how they're getting closer and how their relationship is progressing, and he panics. Not about being with Derek, or sharing a life with him, or even having sex again (they're not quite there yet, but Stiles know that they will be). Oh no. He panics about being a selfish little shit.

And he does so hard enough to make a pack full of 'wolves sneeze on the regular, and for his dad to start looking worried.

Dr Bianchi agrees to see him on a Sunday, with practically no warning, and Stiles spends half an hour with words pouring out of him.

“Derek finally has his sister back, and a working pack, and I'm making him leave all of that behind because I'm selfish enough to put my desire to never set foot in Beacon Hills again before Derek's, well, everything. All of that because I'm too greedy to let him free.”

Dr Bianchi looks at him, and then does something Stiles has never seen her do before. She laughs. Long and hard, and if he wasn't busy feeling insulted by it he'd be amazed with how her laughter sounds like bells.

Once her laughter ebbs out Dr Bianchi dabs at her eyes to remove some stray mascara or something before looking him straight in the eyes.

“Are you done being silly?”

And now Stiles is really insulted.

“Oh dear. You have reached that stage. Well, let's do an exercise.

“Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing, slow deep breaths. Find your center. Are you there? Good. Now imagine that Derek hadn't found you. Nothing else about his reality changes, except he doesn't find you. So. He doesn't find you, he doesn't come see you, you don't get back together. He's got his pack in Beacon Hills, his legacy land, his family's graves, his uncle and the baby sister he thought was dead for years has returned to him.

“Can you see that? Yes? Then imagine five years from now. Is Derek still the Alpha? Is he still living in Beacon Hills?”

“Hell no.” And oh.

“Why not?”

“Because Beacon Hills might be his legacy, but it's also a constant reminder that he's responsible for that legacy now. Of all that he lost. He hangs on because of that responsibility, that duty to the land and his family's memory and the pack.”

And now that he sees it, that he's been forced to open his eyes and see it, Stiles can't understand how he could have been so blind to how much Derek really shouldn't have stayed in Beacon Hills after Laura's death.

“And once Cora takes over he's got no reason to torture himself by living in the middle of all that.”

In a way, Stiles thinks, Derek's never really stopped living in the burnout ruins of the Hale house. Physically he might be staying at the loft, but mentally, emotionally... Derek's never fully left.

“He would be able to leave, knowing that the responsibility is Cora's, and that unless she calls him for help he would never have to return there. He'd only need to go back for her, and Scott's dependable enough that he could hold the territory for her if she was to go see Derek somewhere else for a while.”

He sees it now, the future that Derek could have had, and it doesn't look so bad. He prefers the one where Derek's with him, of course, but. Derek could have been happy and free from Beacon Hills even if he hadn't found his way to Stiles.

“Exactly. Now, we don't know if Derek would have found the help he needed without your resources, but I like to think someone would have realized what he needed and stepped up.

“But we agree that chances are Derek would still have given up the Alpha spark, handed over the pack and the land to his sister, and moved away. That means you are not in any way stealing that from him. I understand you panicking, but you can't let your fears dictate your truth.

“You told Derek that you couldn't imagine going back to Beacon Hills before you even started dating. He knows exactly why you don't want to live in Beacon Hills, knew it from the beginning, and could weigh his desire to be with you against his desire to be physically close to his sister. And you won. That was his choice.

“Don't disrespect him by trying to claim that choice doesn't mean anything.

“But Stiles? You have called Beacon Hills a hellmouth more than once in my presence. Now I'm fairly sure I'm not breaking any confidentiality clauses when I say that Derek agrees, because he's done so right here in this room with you present. Right?”

Right. He really feels silly now, because Dr Bianchi is 100 percent right. He has sat here – and at home, and in LaPush – and ranted about how hellmouths aren't supposed to be a thing, and yet, Beacon Hills, with Derek all but going “amen” next to him.

“Your feelings regarding that town are completely valid. Your love for Derek doesn't change that. Wanting both the man you love and safety doesn't make you greedy, or selfish. Especially not since Derek also has some very bad memories from that place. We both know that part of why you want him to leave there is because you believe it's better for him. Even if he decided to leave for somewhere not here, not with you, you would still want that for him. So no, you're not being selfish for wanting both of you out of a place that's brought you so much pain and sorrow.”

That...hurts, hearing. Stiles is fully aware of how unreasonable he's being, but he actually felt better thinking he was selfish and practically forcing Derek to move because of it.

“Then why do I feel like a selfish shit? If I'm doing what's best for him, then why doesn't it feel like that?”

Dr Bianchi gives him a small smile.

“Because you want to do the right thing, but you're worried you'll make the wrong choice again. You're scared, and you're vulnerable, and you hate both. Just remember that there's a strength in allowing yourself to feel that way – as long as you don't allow it to rule you.”

Easier said than done, and they both know it, but then and there Stiles recommits to not letting his fears rule him.

O--o---o--O

Stiles' birthday is celebrated without much fanfare. He and his dad eat lunch with the Calls. Derek arrives shortly before dinner, which the pack eats at Sam and Emily's and where the biggest difference between today and any other day is that there's a huge cake. Afterwards they light a bonfire at the beach and just spend time together.

When he opens the door to his future home and lets Derek inside it feels heavy and symbolic and maybe like a true glimpse of the future, and Stiles shivers a little. Derek of course misinterprets him.

“Do you regret offering me to stay here?”

“Of course not! It's just, you know, big.”

His heart's as steady as it's capable of being and Derek nods. If his hands shake a little as he climbs up to the loft, well, he's not going to mention it. Once he's up he turns and calls out softly to Derek.

“Coming?”

Derek's hesitant as he climbs up, uncharacteristically slow, and he's still hesitating as he comes to a stand next to the bed. The single bed.

Yes, it's a queen, but. They haven't shared a bed since before Stiles left Beacon Hills. This is a big step.

“I could shift.”

Stiles doesn't know if Derek means shift and sleep on the floor, or shift and sleep at the foot of the bed, but it doesn't matter. That's not the plan. Sure, he's not averse to a furry bed-companion, especially not on cold nights, but his hormones are fully awake and he's got plans, you know? Bestiality really isn't something he's looking to try, not even considering werewolves – or should that be especially considering werewolves? Never mind, just, nope.

“I'm not saying no to having you curled up and warming my feet on a cold night, but this night? I was hoping for this body.”

He smiles, a little wicked, and pulls his shirt off. His pants follow them to the floor, and then he stretches out across the bed.

“I wouldn't mind you warming me up though.”

It pleases him to see Derek pull his own henley and jeans off without hesitation, and it really pleases him to have Derek join him in bed. Soon every bit of lingering chill has been chased away by werewolf warmth, along with every last bit of fear.

It's been years since he touched Derek like this, but his hands remember as they wander while they kiss. Derek however is a bit more restrained, and Stiles isn't onboard with that. He's made his mind up and he wants this. Derek wanting to be careful with him is nice, yes, but it's hard to decide if it's more sweet or annoying.

(His dick is screaming annoying.)

He's just going to have to take the matter cough into his own hands.

Derek stills.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. I've had months to be sure. I want this. I want you.” He twists his hand a little, then pauses. Right.

“But if you're not ready, then I'll wait. I don't want this unless we both do.”

Consent is always going to be a sore point for both of them, and while Stiles would prefer a different kind of pillow talk he can deal. He hasn't spent all this time and effort getting over how they were in Beacon Hills just to make the same mistake again, only the other way around.

“I do.”

Stiles loses his breath, staring into Derek's eyes, sucker-punched by those words. Then he practically throws himself at his wolf, hands and mouth and desire.

It's everything good from before, yet somehow nothing like it used to be.

They fall asleep tangled up, sweaty and sated.

Stiles wakes up, afraid that he's going to regret what happened, or that Derek will regret it, or even that Derek will be gone – which is stupid, since he can feel Derek with him, a line of warmth half covering him, but fear is never rational. And then he takes the time to center himself, to feel, and he knows.

This is how he wants to wake up for the rest of his life. Warm, safe, happy.

Things will be hard. He's got another three years left of college. Derek's got another year, at least, of being the Alpha of Beacon Hills. They're not going to have enough time together and there's always going to be the risk of some spectacular shitshow going down. And that's without considering their relationship.

They're going to be messy, and imperfect, and sometimes stupid. They're going to fight, and disagree, and wonder if they made the right choices. They're going to storm out and slam the doors and go to bed furious. But they're also going to be happy and in love and together, and they're going to fight to stay that way.

And that, Stiles thinks, is anything but stupid.

He turns around and burrows into the arms of his 'wolf, at peace.

[iffeelscouldkill]

Mission Log: REDACTED

A/N: Now that Yuletide reveals are revealed, I can go ahead and own this fic I wrote for the awesome Mousek for Yuletide! It’s quite long (14,999 words), so I’m not going to post the whole thing here, just enough to give people a flavour and lure them to AO3 for the rest.

This fic is written in an “audio narrative” format, in the same style as the From the Archives ficlets if you’ve read those. Slightly spoilery warning (skip over this to remain unspoiled but please read if you’re concerned about potential triggers): this fic features people’s memories being modified (though not completely irreversibly) without their consent.

Enjoy, friends!

Summary: Canon divergence AU from mid-episode 9. Instead of executing Plan B, the Rumor crew learns about a top-secret Regime project that is being carried out at ADVANCE Labs - and that the fate of the crew of the Iris is not what they thought it had been.Violet Liu goes in undercover, posing as a member of the lab team. But can she undo what the Regime has done to the crew and free them - without losing herself in the process?

Read on AO3!

---

“This is Agent McCabe. Two weeks have now passed since our last update. Based on the continued lack of audio input via this swarm of Strain H, we can assume that the crew of the Rumor have acted on the intel given to them by the insurgents, Thasia and Violet Liu, and successfully cured themselves of the VCN nanocloud infection.

 “As a result, pending further developments in this case, the Strange Case of Starship Iris is now considered closed. Footage from the case remains available in the archives and can be accessed on request by submitting form B7-081 with a superior’s signature.

 “My thanks to Major General Frederick, Agents Bauman and Cross, and the specialists at Procyon, as well as Junior Agent Goodman for their assistance in this case. Long live the Republic.”

*

SYSTEM: E.L.L.A.

USERNAME: EMILY CRADDOCK

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 26 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to check in and say that I’m fine, I’m safe and I passed the background checks without any problems. I kept thinking the whole time that someone from the intake process would recognise me, but – none of them seemed familiar, and I guess I wasn’t either. Just a very small cog in the vast machine of the Reg- the Republic. God, I’ve got to get used to saying that again.

“I’m all settled in in my apartment – it’s twice the size of my room on the Rumor, but I can’t help thinking how much I miss that space.” Quiet laughter. “And you all. I… guess I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll have more to update you with tomorrow, after I start work at the lab. And I’ll be able to let you know whether our intel was good.

“Until then… Violet Liu out.”

*

“This is uh, lab report 05, week two? Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Over the past few days, our lab has continued work on synthesizing the NDMA proteins, and Specialists Chang and Yeboah report that they have made some positive advancements in this area. We have provisionally moved up the timeline for the first round of testing with this in mind, though Specialist Yeboah cautions that we need to monitor how the new proteins react with other molecules in the solution first, and then with the blood cell samples.

“A new member also joined our team today – specialist Huang. I wasn’t aware that we’d actually been hiring for our vacancy, but uh, she seems very qualified? A little over-qualified, even. In addition to her qualification from Brightwell she has extensive experience with this type of lab work, which makes us lucky to have her as part of the team. She’s joined Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson in their work on the histone deacetylases.

“My specialism is in a completely different area, and I’m pretty sure our work histories have never overlapped, but – she seems familiar somehow. Except she said she was based on Mars up until six months ago, and I’ve been working on New Jupiter since… uh…

“Sorry – lost my train of thought for a minute there. I’ve been getting these persistent headaches… I think it’s all that poring over modelling data. Though I never get them while I’m working, so maybe they’re delayed-onset headaches? Heh. It could be the lab lighting; I might ask Supervisor Kaaka if we can swap out the bulbs for a lower wattage.

“Uh, anyway. This is Analyst Brannon signing off. Long live the Republic.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. Oh my god… oh my god, I can barely process what’s been happening. I was going to send this message as soon as I got back to my apartment, and instead I’ve just been sitting and staring into space because it’s just so… surreal…

“They’re alive. They’re all just… alive and working in a lab at ADVANCE on New Jupiter.

“I mean, we haven’t ruled out the possibility of highly advanced duplicates, but why would the Repub- the Reg- the IGR go to all that trouble? The simplest explanation - even if it still sounds pretty far-fetched - is that they're the same crew.

“Brian, if you’re listening to this – Alvy's alive. I know I didn’t work with him that long but I’m sure, I’m so sure it's really him. But it’s like Thasia and Other Violet said – none of them remember who they were, or their real names. Everyone here calls him Analyst Brannon – Michael Brannon.

“We’re not working very closely together, but I found an excuse to go over to his workstation and introduce myself, and – it seemed like he recognised me. I’m gonna try and find ways to talk to him – the real Alvy Connors is still in there, Brian, I’m sure of it.

“Is there anything you want me to… ask him? Maybe a question that only he would know the answer to?

“Sorry, I don’t have much more time – the IGR has listening devices planted throughout every Republic-issued apartment; everywhere except the bathroom. Even they have to draw the line somewhere. I scanned it, and it’s clean, but if I remember right there are still sensors that will activate if you go above a certain noise, light or heat, threshold – y’know, in case anyone takes it upon themselves to… build a bomb in here or something. And I don’t want the bugs outside to pick up what I’m saying, which is why I’m whispering.

“But I can’t stay in here too long, or they’ll get suspicious, so – I’m fine, and so far I haven’t messed up or called the Republic the Regime or anything in earshot of anyone. And no-one has recognised me. Well, except for Alvy, maybe.

“I’m still trying to figure out what exactly they’re working on, here. If you’re going to go to the trouble of staffing a lab with the crew of an… of an exploded space ship, it must be important, right? Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just a test, to see how well they assimilate.

“I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then… stay safe. I will too. Violet Liu out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hi, Liu. It’s me.

“I’ll keep this to the point, since I know you probably don’t have much time to spend playing back these messages. We’re all fine here. Kind of in a holding pattern, since there’s not much to do until we hear more from you or from Thasia and the other Violet, but it’s not too bad.

“Jeeter’s really happy, by the way, since he listened to your message. I mean, I think he’s still – processing – because he thought Connors was dead, he even wrote to his parents, and now we find out he’s alive, but not… y’know. Not Connors any more.

“But he’ll be fine. Krejjh is helping, which means the two of them are being even more nauseating then they usually are, and that’s saying something.

“Anyway. Listen, I know you want to try and get through to Connors, but… just be careful, okay? None of us, including Jeeter, wants you to get hurt or – worse – on the off chance that we might be able to bring him back. We always knew it was gonna be a long shot.

“Tripathi said to tell you the same, by the way. Well, she said it in a more… Tripathi… way, but the idea was the same. Find out what you can, but don’t get caught. We can’t afford to lo- to mess this up.

“Okay, I should go. Arkady Patel out.”

*

“This is lab report 06, week three. Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Since my last report, we have introduced the synthesized NDMA proteins to the solution and tested their interactions with samples representing different blood types. Six out of eight of the samples produced expected results, but two of the samples produced some unexpected interactions with the AB type blood cells, which warrants further testing and study.

“Specialist Huang, Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson are progressing with their work on the histone deacetylases, which should be ready to introduce in the next phase of the solution, pending resolution of the AB blood cell issue.

“Okay, what else… Oh, Specialist Huang is integrating well with the team. She and I have had a couple of conversations, though our second one was unfortunately cut short when my headache started up again. Maybe I should bring it up with Dr. Starling…

“Damn it. Is that the time? I was supposed to go for my treatment a half hour ago – damn it, damn it.

“Uh… I should probably redact that from the final report. This is Analyst Brannon, signing off. Long live the Republic.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey guys, it’s me again. Violet. It feels kind of nice to use my own name for a change instead of being called ‘Specialist Huang’ all the time… I almost forgot to react to it once, though luckily Vázquez thought I was just focused on my work.

“Not a whole lot to report still – I’m still trying to figure out what it is the Regime is doing in these labs. It’s something to do with DNA methylation and synthesized NDMA proteins – well, I won’t bore you with the science, but why would the IGR be working on that? Could be they’re trying to develop a neural enhancer, but for what? I haven’t ruled out the possibility of there being some kind of link to the nanobots, but no-one here has mentioned nanites, and there are no nanotech specialists working in the lab.

“They keep us very siloed, too. I know what I’m working on, or at least what I have to do, but I don’t know why, and none of the people I work directly with seems to know what we’re developing here. Just something about a solution and blood cell samples. We might not even be the only lab working on this, which means I’ll have to find another way to get at the bigger picture.

“I spoke to Alvy a couple times – I was careful, Arkady, don’t worry. We didn’t manage to talk for long anyway – people don’t socialise much here. I’d kind of forgotten what it was like to work in this kind of environment, where no-one trusts anyone or lets their guard down, because people will backstab each other for the slightest thing. Maybe they had a professional disagreement, or don’t get along, or they wanted to get the credit for the other person’s work. It doesn’t take much of an insinuation to get someone transferred or – worse.

“Nothing’s happened, not yet, and it’s still nowhere near as bad as that student internship I did during the war. But it feels… tense, almost hair-trigger. I think I heard we’re having an inspection later on this week.

“Anyway, Alvy – I didn’t get to talk to him for very long, not just because of the environment, but because he had this headache come on the second time we talked. I’m not sure if it means anything – he said he gets them often. Brian, do you… remember him saying anything about that before?

“He seems a little different to the way I remember him on the Iris – a little more serious, less laid-back, though he’s still the friendliest person on the team. I didn’t… get to know him under the best circumstances, so I’m not sure if that’s due to the memory wipe or not.

“He also mentioned that he’s been seeing a doctor for these treatments – they all have. It could just be something to do with the away shuttle explosion, some kind of recovery program – there was an explosion, even if it didn’t really kill anyone, and Alvy’s got these – support struts in one of his legs, I think they’re carbon fibre. He walks with a slight limp sometimes.

“It could be nothing, but I feel like it might be worth digging into? Arkady, are you able to poke around in ADVANCE’s systems a bit, see if you can find anything that resembles medical reports?

“I’d better go. I brought my makeup bag in here as a cover for taking a bit longer – I don’t even know if the IGR has cameras in these apartments, but better to be safe than sorry – but there’s only so long you can take to put on the bare minimum I wear.

“Send me a message when you can. Violet Liu, out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu. Good instincts on the medical treatment thing. I didn’t spot anything like that in my initial sweep of the system when I forged your interview and acceptance records, but I wasn’t on the lookout for it either.

“There’s a limit to what I can access without jacking directly into ADVANCE’s mainframe computer or piggybacking on their local network, but I’ll dig around as much as I can.” Jokingly: “ Worst comes to worst, we could always send Jeeter in with an earpiece and make him pose as a computer technician.

“Oh, also, Jeeter says he doesn’t remember Alvy ever mentioning any kind of migraines or head pain. Apparently he’d go on these all-night coding benders and then sleep for two hours and be completely fine the next morning. Maybe it caught up to him, but – well, I’m not gonna jump to any conclusions. I’ll see what I can find in the medical records.

“Also – be careful with the inspection, okay? Your ID will hold up, Campbell doesn’t skimp on the quality, and you look different enough from the physical description they have on file, but those Regime higher-ups will ask some weird shit to catch you out.

“You’ve got the comm if you need us for anything. Just… keep your head down.

“Arkady Patel, out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu, listen. You were right. There’s something weird going on with these treatments.

“I managed to track down the medical records for the whole crew. Wasn’t easy, but I’ll save the tales of my security-defying exploits for another time. Anyway, I managed to hack into an account belonging to someone called Dr. Starling. They were brought onto ADVANCE’s payroll on June 1st – two days before the away shuttle exploded.

“There are files for all of them, and the scientific stuff doesn’t mean much to me, but from what I can tell, they’re monitoring them all for signs of what Starling calls ‘leakage’ – memories from their previous lives. Five of the other crew members have reported experiencing head pains, and it’s not a physical injury – Starling seems to think the pain is set off by them thinking back beyond a certain point, or being reminded of something from their past life. They upped the frequency of the ‘treatments’ to try and counter it, but so far it hasn’t worked.

“I think that’s what they’re for, the treatments – they’re keeping the crew’s memories suppressed. Which means, if they can be interfered with somehow…

“Bad news is, I can’t get into the scheduling system, not without access to the local network. But in Starling’s notes it says that Alvy was meant to come in for a treatment earlier today- well, yesterday technically, since it’s after 3am. But he didn’t show. So maybe you could get through to him.

“Obviously, don’t blow your cover, but if Alvy’s been getting these headaches a lot, it could mean he’s trying to remember? You said he got a headache when you guys talked – what were you talking about?”

A stifled yawn. “Shit, I’d better sleep, Sana wanted me to help encrypt some intel to send to Thasia and the other Violet Liu first thing in the morning. I’ll talk to you later. Arkady Patel out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Arkady, you’re a genius! Oh my god, I could kiss you.

“I’ve only skimmed the records you copied, but they make references to a solution that sounds a lot like the one we’re developing in the lab. What if that’s the answer? What if that’s what the IGR is having the crew develop, another version of the treatment – maybe one that’s more permanent…

“…Oh god, that’s so dark. They’re having the crew work on erasing their own memories. It’s so inhuman, so – exactly what the IGR would do.

“–I have to go, I’ve got work in half an hour, but – this really helps. And I’ll try to talk to Alvy today, see if he seems any different after his missed treatment. Violet Liu out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“You, uh—” The sound of awkward throat-clearing. “You are welcome. Yeah. Like I said, it’s uh, it’s what I do! So, no, uh thanks required. Though if you wanted to, I—

“Shit, I’ve gotta go, Sana needs me. Uh, Arkady Patel out.”

Read the rest here!

[toast-the-unknowing]

September, seconds, today

September: answered over here, but for the record, your comment on work a little harder was one of the ones I was thinking of :P

seconds: shortest completed fic?

I used to write a lot of drabbles, that's part of why Criminal Minds is as high up my fandom list on AO3 as it is (it was not that long ago that I used to angst about how nothing was ever going to surpass it and it was going to be the top of my AO3 page for all time. I had no idea what was coming). I've done a couple for TRC, they're a fun little puzzle to undertake once in a while, but I'm not as into it as I used to be. Regicide is my favorite of those.

Drabbles always feel like a different kettle of fish though! As do a lot of the commentfic and not fic and challenge ficlets that are on the later pages if I sort by word count. Apparently my shortest non-drabble TRC fic is so familiar, like an old bedtime song, which stands out in my mind as being maybe the only time ever I was like "oh this fic needs to be LONGER" and then successfully told myself "No. it doesn't. just post it." (it also stands out in my mind as having the wrong dang title, but that's besides the point) At 763 I think that's about the word count where things crossover into being a fic, in my mind.

today: have you made any progress in any wips today?

Noooot as much as I should have, but some! And hey, day's not over yet.

[quickspinner]

WIP Wednesday (sort of)

I don’t actually have anything for WIP Wednesday so the two complete ficlets for today will have to be enough 😆 But here’s a little WIP report. 

So I was doing my little WIPvember experiment, trying to work on my WIPs all month and hopefully get some things finished. I didn’t do too badly for the first half of the month; I made it to a little bit shy of 25k words, I met my goal of doing a little bit every day. I did actually finish one WIP (the honeymoon fic), plus the birthday zoo fic, and of course I wrote an entire unplanned oneshot, and I got all but two of the Here for You prompts finished.

The second half of the month was pretty much a complete wash, though. A lot of personal and family stuff happened and you guys, I am wiped. Nothing is super serious, everybody’s healthy, or at least has no health problems that aren’t of long standing (the foot I injured last year, while slowly improving, continues to be a pain in my...foot). I’m not trying to be mysterious but it’s either be incredibly vague or vomit a bunch of raving nonsense on you all when really the short version is: stuff is hard right now, and I am Tired. trust me no one else wants to hear about our potty training woes, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg right now

But the thing is, I was already kind of running out of steam before all that stuff really came into play? I’ve never actually been a huge fan of NaNoWriMo, to be honest, obviously it works for some people, but I’ve never really believed it was something that could work for me, and even though I wasn’t “doing NaNo” the spreadsheet I was using to track daily words had the NaNo goal on it, so I couldn’t help being aware (which is how I know I almost made it to the halfway mark). This trying to do a little bit every day thing kind of confirmed to me something that, in the back of my mind, I knew about myself already: I can’t do every day. I need down time to think, to let the ideas well up and develop organically, without the pressure of immediately trying to get it down on paper. I need daydreaming time, and I was so focused on making progress that I wasn’t getting it, and so there came a time where I just...ran out of stuff to write. Like, I still had stuff in my mind that I wanted to happen, but I hadn’t had time to think it all the way through and develop it, and I just don’t do that as well straight onto the page.

So, that was a lesson learned, or relearned, or confirmed, or something. I think I might repeat the experiment sometime next year, but NOT in November (seriously who thought that was a good time), and over two months rather than one, so I can build in some breathing time. 

Anyway, much like I always have several knitting projects on the needles of varying sizes and complexity so that I can choose a project appropriate to the level of energy and concentration available, different types of fics require different mental energy and time commitments, so I’m doing a bit of a pivot this month. It does mean that the wait on my current WIPs will, sadly, be a little longer, but that’s honestly just unavoidable right now with as wiped as I am at the end of the day. I hope by the New Year several of these issues will be sorted out and I’ll have a little more energy for the big projects. 

I’d rather be writing something than nothing during this time, so I’m treating my Month of Miracles project as a fluffy little playground to help get me through the rough patch. There even might be some others joining in with me here and there, so I’m looking forward to that as well and I hope you’ll all enjoy it (and if you look at the prompts and they sound interesting to you, by all means feel free to jump in and use them).  

Whenever I post something like this I get messages full of “Take care of yourself!” “Family comes first!” “We can wait!” so I just want to let you know that I appreciate that, taking care of my family and my own sanity will come first, and I know I don’t have to explain anything...but I like to, especially when I have ongoing projects that are hanging out there half-finished. So, that’s where we are; progress was made this month, but it’s not being made right now. I don’t think the magic line between 2020 and 2021 is going to solve all our issues, but most of them are things that ultimately just take time, so here’s hoping that by the time the New Year rolls around, we’ll be through at least some of it.