#anyway sorry no fic today

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[fellshish]

Do you have any go to Good Omens comfort fics?

i got u ❤️

stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): aziraphale lets himself get ‘kidnapped’ by a demon. very cute and romcommy

sit tight take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au that got me totally into f1 while i am not even a car person. the type of au that becomes its own thing and you love escaping to it again

where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): cuddle arrangement au with SUCH gorgeous art too it’ll make you feel so warm inside

manual handling (E, 8k): massage fic. ummm can an e rated fic be a comfort fic? sure why not. definite rereading material so

let me care for you (M, 1.7k) literal comfort — crowley gets cared for

big name feelings (E, 103k): fandom au and SO well done including the art. i followed this while it posted and it was so exciting

the gift (T, 3k): short & sweet they talk about the elephant in the room

my mind holds the key (T, 3k): aziraphale wants to know who the ‘best friend’ was that crowley supposedly lost. superbly written

one night in bangor (E, 17k): a classic and great on every reread. there’s a heaven-hell mixer and omg…. the careful, exciting, fluttering flirtation

slow show (E, 95k): i know i know it’s such an obvious one to rec bc it’s so famous but genuinely one of thee best fics and a lovely reread each time. actors au

empirical study on the principles of snake care (T, 2k): sorry to be that guy but sometimes i reread my own fics and i laugh with the little jokes bc i’ve forgotten them. aziraphale tries out some snake care tips on crowley

as always: begging people to add (self) recs to this post because i’d love to know what people’s comfort fics are. please share the joy

[chronicowboy]

Maddie humbles him pretty severely in their conversation. Look, he knows it's stupid, knows it's selfish really, knows it's just plain crappy of him. But. But he hurt Christopher. And there wasn't some big uncontrollable variable like a tsunami that Eddie can explain it away with.

Sure, it was an accident, but it still happened. Sure, it was only a few scrapes that he'd cleaned up almost immediately with the little first aid kit tucked into the glove compartment of his Jeep - and, well, maybe part of the guilt is the way Christopher had grimaced at the added sting of the antiseptic wipes. But he'd done it. He'd made Christopher cry. And he'd ran as soon as Eddie swept in to take care of him. He'd ran before either of them could tell him to get out.

Christopher is injured, and Buck hasn't been to see him once. Christopher is injured because of Buck, and he's only checked in through a much too knowing Eddie. Because he's a coward, especially when it comes to Christopher. Jesus, nothing in the world scares him more than Christopher. Everything's so big and inconceivable with him. Buck feels it all, feels it all so strongly. The things he'd do for that kid... Well, that scares him too. Almost as much as Christopher's anger does, but he can't run from it forever. He can't stay away forever, so he shoots Eddie a quick text as he leaves Maddie's.

Can I come see Chris at some point?

He's just buckling himself into the driver's seat when his phone buzzes with a reply.

Get over here

Another buzz.

Now

His already knotted stomach twists into an even more complex shape as he turns the key in the ignition, but he has to face the music some time or another. May as well be now.

It takes him an inordinately long and nauseating time to get to the Diaz door, an even longer time to actually knock and then a terrifyingly short amount of time for Eddie to be appearing before him with those big, understanding eyes he can never seem to escape.

"Hi," he mumbles, suddenly struck with what image he must make out there on the porch. A naughty dog with a guiltily hung head and a tail between his legs just waiting to be patted on the head and told he's forgiven.

"Buck, come in." Eddie rolls his eyes and practically drags him inside. Buck had been about ninety-nine per cent sure (okay, maybe more like eighty) that Eddie's texts had been fond exasperation and not actual anger, but it's not until he hears Eddie's voice that he knows for sure. He was never a bad dog in Eddie's mind. Buck's tail wags just a little as Eddie leans back against the hallway wall with his arms folded over his chest. "He's in his room and he misses his Buck."

"Even after I almost killed him?" he mutters petulantly.

"Buck, you tripped over his crutches. The both of you went down and, honestly, you walked away worse than he did." Buck opens his mouth to argue, but Eddie ploughs on. "Don't lie to me. I saw those bruises on your ribs last shift. I know how weaponised those elbows can become."

"I'm fine."

"So is he," Eddie says seriously. "You know how many times I've tripped over his crutches?"

"Did you feel guilty about it afterwards?" Buck pries, eyes trained on his shoes where they kick lightly, sheepishly at the carpet.

"Of course, I did. I always do. Hell, I accidentally got some salt in his eyes when we were cooking the other day and I almost took myself down to Athena's station." Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. "I'm his dad, I'd send him outside in a bubble wrap suit if I could. But I've been informed that isn't 'cool'," Buck snorts, "so I'm trying my best to make peace with the fact that that he's going to get hurt and I'm not always going to be stop it. But." Eddie steps closer, drops a hand to Buck's shoulder, ducks his hand to catch his eye. And Buck feels the echo of a wave and three ragged scratches across his face. "But I can always be there after it happens, to pick him back up and tend to his wounds, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck whispers, nodding against the whirring of his brain.

"He's already mostly healed up. Go and see for yourself." Eddie leaves with a pointed look at Christopher's door, and Buck stays staring down the hallway like he can will it into something that feels a little less like a walk on the plank.

As he takes his first step, for just a moment, he wishes he was back in the endless labyrinthine hallways of his coma dream just to postpone his fate a little longer.

See, what he hadn't told Maddie was that he had actually tried texting Christopher a few days after their tumble. A sorry and an I hope you're okay and a jokey maybe we should leave basketball to the pros which had only gleaned a thumbs up emoji in response. So, he's not feeling very optimistic when he knocks on Christopher's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Buck, buddy." Silence. A sigh maybe, if he strains. "C-can I come in?"

Another pause.

"Fine."

Buck pushes into the room with his heart in his throat. Christopher doesn't look up from his textbook where he's propped up against his headboard, just carries on reading. Buck approaches carefully, hovering at the end of the bed where he'd normally just sit.

"How are you doing?" he asks uselessly.

"Fine."

"Yeah?" Christopher only shrugs, and Buck sighs in defeat. "I'm really sorry, bud. I didn't mean to do it, you have to know that. I'd never ever do anything to hurt you-"

"Wait." Chris finally looks up from his book with his frown. "Do you think I'm mad because you tripped me up?"

"I-I, well, yeah." Buck blinks. "So, you are mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad, but not about that." Chris groans and slams his book shut. "Why'd you disappear?"

"B-because I thought you'd be mad at me for, you know, hurting you," Buck says dumbly. Christopher rolls his eyes so similarly to Eddie's earlier expression that Buck aches with it.

"You didn't hurt me. Gravity hurt us."

"But you're mad at me."

"Because you disappeared!" Chris bursts. Buck's mouth snaps shut with a click. "Everything's changing. You and me and dad barely ever hang out anymore. And I know I'm getting older, so I shouldn't want to, but I do. But you're both dating, so it's always just the one of you. Or the three of us and a stranger. And I hate it. And the last time this happened, you promised you weren't going anywhere, but you did! And I want you both to be happy, and I really don't want dad to feel so lonely now I'm growing up, but I wish..." Christopher ducks his head as if suddenly realising he'd revealed too much.

"You wish?" Buck asks on the exhale of a breath he'd been holding since Christopher's little outburst, something fierce and jagged latching itself to his sternum.

"I wish you both could be happy with..." He shrinks into himself a little, and Buck wraps his hand around the footboard like a lifeline - like whatever Christopher is about to say will turn the world upside down. "I wish this was enough. I wish the three of us could make you both as happy as-as it makes me." He flushes and cracks his textbook open. "It sounds dumb when I say it."

"No, no," Buck croaks, something big and unwieldy expanding against the inside of his ribs, something that could choke him if he let it. "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘

[tunastime]

UM UM UM “staying up until midnight to talk” with SEN or DBHC ethubs or docsuma

Or “pull me closer,” with dbhc docsuma :floshed:

Okay skitters away

staying up until midnight to talk (919 words) (x) (:3c)

Etho’s hands follow a practiced rhythm. He isn’t sure how they wouldn’t, with every wire and mechanism and gear in his body perfectly calibrated to move with precision and within expectation. He certainly fails, and jerks, and stutters, and falls, but base programming, movements that fell perfectly into subroutines he couldn’t even begin to trace, even if Xisuma showed him the exact steps? Of course they were perfect. And of course he never faltered.

The sand beneath him offers a much needed cushioning from the hard, winter dirt, despite the fact that the sun provides little warmth to the air around them in the snow fort. The sky is so blue it makes his eyes strain to look at—and maybe it would hurt, if he knew how it was supposed to feel.

Instead, Etho watches patches of sky blue in the silver-warped reflection of his sword, faint flickers of enchantment pulsing out from the hilt where the hastily carved runes sit. He runs the sharpening stone against the blade’s flat edge, careful not to nick the silicon of his fingers as he scrapes it across, again, and again. Practiced, careful, calculated rhythm. So much so that he doesn’t even register the sounds of shuffling a few paces away until Bdubs’ voice cuts through the silence.

“Etho,” he says, voice all rough around the edges like he were hungry for something more than just company. Etho keeps sharpening, just for a moment, before he chances a glance over.

Bdubs leans at the wooden fence, leaning his weight into the flimsily-set posts. He grins like nothing in the world could bother him. The characteristic dark brown of his eyes flickers with red, with that same hunger. Etho hates it. Which is odd. Because he really doesn’t feel strongly about much of anything, and disgust is an emotion very foreign to him, and he’s beginning to think the slight grinding in his chest is a problem Xisuma might need to diagnose when he gets back. It feels wrong. Because he knows he likes Bdubs just fine. He trusts him just enough. But that look.

Bdubs is still watching him, eyeing the sword in his hand with a gaze he can’t place, let alone read. Better give him an answer.

“Bdubs,” he says calmly, tilting his head to the side.

“You thought anymore about my offer?”

Etho makes a sound like a hum, mimicking the sound of turning the idea over in his head. He stands, setting his whetstone next to the cold embers of last night’s fire. The pot and cups still rest in the dirt, as cold as the rest of their surroundings. The sword stays in his hand.

(In the back of his mind, a memory surfaces. In it, Etho lies in the night-damp grass in clothes that still smell a bit like gunpowder, but not enough to notice unless you got real close. Bdubs is somewhere to his immediate left, still speaking, haloed in the glow of lanterns and lights of a shop. One of them at least. Within the clarity of memory, Etho can pinpoint that it’s Tango’s shop. Bdubs doesn’t live far from here. He isn’t sure when waiting for Tango to restock candles turned into tell Etho all about the extra additions to your base and your journey to find all the perfect horses for the Horse Course that you both just wrapped up, or into tell Bdubs all about how empty the mountain is, and how interesting this new game sounds, and how you hope you both find somewhere cool to base. Because you’ve already told him that you’re teaming up. But it does, and in this same space, the sky is full of bright white stars and a sliver of a moon that's starting to peek into the sky. Bdubs yawns.)

“The one from last night?” Etho asks, coming to with the sword heavy in his hand. He pushes the point into the soft sand until it hits hard earth and starts to give.

“You don’t gotta keep this fence, Etho…” Bdubs sighs, leaning his head into his palm. Etho folds his arms across his chest, splays one hand as he shrugs.

“Seems like the best way to settle this, ‘Dubs.”

“You could join me. Could always still join me,” Bdubs tries. “Just a quick one-two stab! Easy!”

“I can’t do that,” Etho says, shaking his head. “You know that.”

Bdubs sighs again, dramatic, deflating over the fence as Etho’s rejection stands firm. The thirium in his chest feels like it’s been flash frozen and has only started to dethaw, cold in his hands and feet, up his shins and to his elbows. He rolls his shoulders in, cupping each hand around each opposite elbow. There’s a little warmth to be found in the action with no fans kicking on to compensate.

“Well,” Bdubs says, drumming on the wooden beam between the two fence posts. “If you ever change your mind.”

He watches Etho for a moment, that familiar look coming to his eyes, as if it were trying to eclipse the haze of red Bdubs looks at him through, as if it were trying to expand his tunnel vision by just a fraction of an inch. Just as Etho notices, it’s snuffed, and the easy, careful look is replaced by an indifference Etho doesn’t think he enjoys. He still isn’t sure how much he knows for certain. He shrugs, barely a movement at all. Better say something.

“I won’t,” he says.

Bdubs huffs and turns away.

[m1d-45]

doctor's orders

summary: a mild cold in the hands of one used to life or death illnesses... he really worries too much.

word count: 1k

-> warnings: you're like.. very mildly sick.. +take one (1) pill for like .5 of one second. nothin serious

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“i don’t know why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“i dn’t kow why you aren’t.”

you sniffle again, wiping at your nose with a napkin he’d insisted you take. “it’s not like i’ll die, baizhu.”

“dont joke about that.” he sat at his desk, counting qingxin petals as he plucked them off. “you’ll be perfectly fine, so long as you take your medicine.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, to push off his worry and deny the pills. yes, you were sick, but with barely a cold—more an annoyance than anything—that you didn’t think was worth even half the trouble.

but if nothing else, this was for his benefit. part of the curse of being a doctor, you supposed: knowing even the most severe of illnesses started with a cough. or, in your case, congestion.

“and you’re certain that’s it? no aches or pains?”

for his sake, you checked again. nothing out of the ordinary, just as it was five minutes ago, the last time he asked you.

“i’m fine, just as i have been and just as i will be. even if i wanted to hide something, you’d be able to tell.”

he’d known you were sick before you did. you went out with qiqi yesterday, returning to the pharmacy with a basket propped on your waist. you exchanged your greetings with gui, lingering to watch qiqi set herself up in her chair, carefully prying seeds out of lotus heads. you were sat beside her sorting the horsetail from the violet grass when he came out of the back door, eyes lingering on you strangely.

“are you feeling well?”

you looked up, hands stalling. “yeah, i feel fine. why, is something wrong?”

gui smiled like he knew something you didn’t, but you didn’t focus on that. baizhu came to you, taking your hands in his, inspecting your palms like you’d miraculously developed an allergy to horsetail overnight. “…are you sure?”

“positive.”

“no new aches, not unusually hot or short of breath, nothing stiff or-”

“baizhu.” you turned your hands to hold his instead, his gloves cool under your fingers. “i’m fine. you worry too much.”

but, of course, your karma swung around and you woke up with a headache and a pressure in your sinus. the light off the stone paths felt too bright, your predicament obvious from the moment you opened your mouth to say hello. just like that, you’d been whisked away to a back room, changsheng curling around your shoulders as he tried to find any and every reason to worry.

it was cute. or, would have been, if you didn’t know he was worried beneath the fuss. if you didn’t know any better, it would seem like he was finding any and all excuses to touch you. a loose grip on your wrist to check if your heart was irregular, the back of his hand against your cheek to see if you had a fever, worrying and worrying like you weren’t stuck with the common cold and he wasn’t the best doctor this side of inazuma.

“you worry too much.”

“you worry too little. drink your tea.”

you did, bearing the bitter taste as changsheng slipped from your shoulders to his. honestly, with the way he was treating you, one could easily think you were at death’s door.

you weren’t, though. you traced the rim of the ceramic mug, watching him fuss with your medicine, carefully crushing and mixing a variety of strong-smelling ingredients you couldn’t hope to identify off sight alone, characteristics lost in the mortar and pestle.

“so,” you start, his eyes flicking to you but not losing focus. “you come here often?”

he rolled his eyes, adding an ambiguously labeled syrup. whatever shorthand he and gui had mastered was a mystery to you no matter how hard you tried to decipher it. “this is serious.”

“it’s the flu.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re biased.”

“and you’re not getting out of taking your medicine. have you finished your tea?”

he took the empty mug, checking the stray leaves at the bottom like they would give him whatever answers he was looking for. it’s not like you’d lied to him—not like you could, either. between he and changsheng, it was impossible to so much as bring him flowers.

with the help of a few bits of hyperspecific equipment (that looked far too dangerous to just be for a doctor), a single pill was tucked into your palm, a muted green sphere with flecks of white dispersed across its surface. another cup of medicinal tea was poured and drank, a bitter aftertaste left in your mouth as expected. but you were rewarded for your troubles with a quiet sigh of relief, all of his nerves apparently washing away with that single action. he pushed his glasses up on his nose, eyes softening from ‘stern doctor’ to ‘worried partner.’

“…and you’re certain-”

“i’m fine.” you downed the rest of the tea, lip curling at the taste as you set it down, not missing how he checked to see if you’d drank it all. “i’m not in pain. i’m not hurt. i’ve taken my medicine and you have personally seen me do it. please, relax.”

another sigh, this one tired and well-worn. “you know i can’t. it’s not that easy.”

“it was worth a shot,” you shrug.

he does all of the work that he can in your room that day, strictly confining you to the bed, but letting you sit with him in the lobby once noon passes and there’s less people bustling through. you politely ignore the subtle glow to his fingertips whenever he walks by you, just like you pretend not to notice his repeated, worried glances.

it was almost sweet, that he worried so much. and besides, who were you to tell him what to do with his time? a day spent with your doctor was a day well worth every second.

[pretentiouswreckingball]

I want James to fucking buckle at the mere idea of Regulus riding him. I want James squirming under Regulus and Regulus soothing him, peppering gentle kisses all over his face, telling him he's being such a good boy to him, that he's doing so good, that he's fucking him so well while James cries and moans at the sight of this man on top of him, taking whatever he wants

[reddamselette]

They laid beneath the stars together, shaded by the grand of trees surrounding the entrance. He listened to the soft breathing below him, a head of blond hair resting on his chest as delicate and gentle fingers traced circles into his clothes yet feeling it tingle in his skin.

It seemed as if time failed to pass, the world stopping its motion and remained dormant in its orbit around the sun, floating along in space with the stars. “Why are you never real?”

His question earned an amused huff and he watched the gorgeous and mesmerizing curls sway and bounce into place as his favorite pair of eyes met his. Blue eyes that held the entire universe and more, sparkling with its own stars and its own spark of electricity. Jason’s hand cupped Leo’s cheek tenderly, sweetly, and so incredibly delicately. “I am real.”

Leo shook his head softly, cupping Jason’s hand with his own as he blew a soft breath and leaned into his touch, briefly closing his eyes as he spoke, “Don’t leave me.”

Jason shifted, moving about until he laid directly between Leo’s legs, his arms folded on his chest comfortably. There was something different in Jason’s eyes. Something that wasn’t quite there if not never there. Leo has seen the look of happiness in Jason’s face, how sadness painted his cheeks beautifully, calm but collected anger that struck his body in flashes. But not once has Leo ever seen the light of peace on Jason’s features.

“Take me with you.” Leo whispered. Begging, his rough and calloused palms cradling Jason’s face and he rubbed his thumbs softly in a motion. Brown irises traced every line, every scar, every strand of blond wavy hair.

Jason hummed in disagreement. His voice as soft as the clouds, light with rain, and not a trace of burden lodged within it. “You know I can’t do that, Firefly.”

[rafyki]

Goth! Nico/ Surfer! Percy AU Part 8!

Hi, sorry for the wait!! I was a little in doubt about if making this chapter in Percy's or Nico's POV, tbh, but in the end I decided that we're back to Percy! I always enjoy writing him being all smitten and in love <33

Enjoy~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

You can also read it on AO3!!

~~~~

Percy had been looking at his phone for what felt like hours, staring at the empty message box and the name written on top, trying to find something, anything, to write that wouldn't sound extremely lame.

He knew his friends were looking at him, probably thinking he was the most ridiculous lovesick fool they had ever seen - which was fair, honestly, because Percy did feel like he was one second away from screaming into the void and starting to roll around on the cafe’s floor. 

So, yes, he was a lovesick fool - but a lovesick fool with his crush's number now safely saved into his phone.

Crush.

It had been two days since his meeting with Nico at the beach, and for the whole time Percy had felt like the word wasn't right, wasn't nearly heavy enough to embrace the way he felt. When he had told Annabeth, she had looked at him and smiled.

“I can see that, Percy, but you do realize you barely know him, don't you?”

It was true, of course it was - yet it didn't matter.

Percy could still feel the warmth of Nico's hand in his like it was engraved on his skin. The need to hold it again was almost overwhelming, Percy could feel himself going crazy for it.

They had held hands, and it had felt like Nico hadn't wanted to let go either, that he had wanted to make the contact last as long as possible just like Percy had.

Percy wanted to text him. But what do you even write to the guy who's been haunting your mind for the past few months and who you aren't exactly friends with but at the same time it feels like you're so much more?

“Hi, it's Percy, how are you?” 

Yeah, no, that was lame. 

“Hey, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Too forward, definitely not.

Percy groaned, frustrated.

“I swear to god, Jackson, if you don't stop staring at that phone right now, I'm gonna kick you out of this place”.

Thalia's voice pulled him violently out of his thoughts.

“This is a public space, Thalia, you can't kick me out”, he replied without even looking at her.

“Oh yeah, watch me”.

Percy only looked up at her when a kick did actually hit his legs under the table.

“Ehi!”

Thalia smirked down at him. “Told ya”, she said. “I can't believe I only come here like two times a year - and when I do, you're too busy to look at your phone to actually talk to me? That's low, Jackson”.

Percy rolled his eyes, but the pull in his guts let him know that he did feel guilty. He sighed and finally put his phone down, straightening himself and going back to sip his coffee. Not that he would apologize to Thalia, but he could admit to himself that she was right; and after all, if he put aside for a moment his current concern, he really was happy to see her. It had been months since the last time they had the chance to hang out together like this.

“Don't mind him, Thalia”, Annabeth jumped in. “He just got his dream boy's number! And now he's trying to figure out what to write to him”.

She said it like it was ridiculous, but Percy remembered how happy she had been for him when he had told her about the events of two days ago, so he didn't take it to heart.

“His what!?”, Thalia almost screamed, accompanying every word with a painful slap on Percy's shoulder. “Why don't I know anything about this! How could you guys not tell me, come on!”

He swatted her hand away. “Ouch, ow, ow, okay, alright!”

“I can't believe this! I can't even remember the last time you had a crush”.

“Yeah, well”, Percy said, and lowered his eyes. “Doesn't really feel like a crush, anymore”. 

“Oh woah, then it must be serious”, she said. “Come on, tell me everything”.

And so he told her - told her about the first time he saw the pretty goth boy working at the beach kiosk, about how long he had spent just looking at him. Trying to leave out the most embarrassing parts was no use because of course Annabeth had to jump in to point out how ridiculous he had been the whole time and how much he had panicked to just go and talk to him to buy something, and obviously she couldn't leave out his plan to impress Nico with his fantastic surfing moves.

“Annabeth, stop making me look like a loser!”

“I'm not making you look like a loser, Seaweed brain, I’m just telling the truth!”.

Percy kept talking, and he kept thinking about Nico, and he knew that he had the most enamored smile painted on his lips as he spoke. He talked and he couldn't stop because, god, he did love to talk about him.

They had only seen each other the previous day and Percy missed him already. He definitely needed to find the courage to text him - perhaps he didn't need to think too much about it, maybe a simple hey how are you would do, after all.

He wondered if Nico was doing the same, looking at his phone and trying to find something to write to him, or maybe waiting and hoping for a text to arrive.

He was so focused on recounting everything that he didn't notice the way Thalia's expression went from curious to surprised, then to confused, and finally to pensive.

“Wait, what did you say this guy's name is?”

Percy stopped in his rambling. “Nico, his name’s Nico”, he said, and finally noticed how Thalia seemed to be deep in thought. “What’s that face?”

It took a moment for her to reply. “Nico as in… Nico Di Angelo?”

Percy stopped and looked at her like she had grown a second head. “What?”

Next to him, he heard Annabeth’s voice echoing the same sentiment.

“What are you talking about?”

“Goth boy, shortie, long hair and lots of piercings, doesn’t seem like he own anything but black clothes, looks like he doesn’t know how to smile-”

“Hey, I’ll let you know that he has the prettiest smile you could ever imagine!”

Thalia waved him off at the same time that Annabeth said “Yes that does sound exactly like him”.

“And he works at the beach kiosk with a blond guy?”

A long moment of silence passed during which Percy kept staring at Thalia as her words kept swarming around in his head, blinking at her trying to process what she had just said. 

It couldn’t be, could it?

“You know him!?”

Percy could feel his heart run around in his chest, pumping blood loudly in his ears.

That felt so much like fate. 

“Huh, kind of?”, Thalia said. “I saw him a couple of times when I went to visit my brother”.

“Your brother?”, Annabeth asked.

Thalia nodded, smiling. “The blond guy working at the kiosk. That’s my brother, Jason”.

Another moment of silence passed before Percy finally came to his senses. “What the hell, why didn’t you tell us!”

This time, it was his turn to swat Thalia’s arm over and over. She hit back with just as much strength.

“Ow, why would I tell you! I didn’t even know you guys went to that beach - see, your fault you don’t tell me anything!”

Percy could feel Annabeth rolling her eyes at their antics.

But he had more pressing things to think about. He couldn’t believe it- really? 

It was so stupid, feeling giddy for something like this, but Percy couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips. They were connected.

You’re so ridiculous, Percy Jackson, so ridiculous, he told himself, as his heart danced in his chest.

“Nico Di Angelo”, he murmured to himself. 

He knew his friends were looking at him ready to laugh at him. He looked at Annabeth. “See? I told you he must be an angel!”

They did laugh at him at that, and Percy felt so light he joined them. 

“You really are so ridiculous, Seaweed Brain”.

“Hey, can’t a man be a little in love?”

They stopped in their laughter to stare at him, and it took Percy a moment to realize what he had said. He felt himself blush - he hadn’t even admitted it to himself yet, yet the words had felt way too natural on his tongue, leaving his lips without him even thinking about it.

“Percy….”

“I know”, he cut her off, looking away. For some reason, his hand felt warm. “I know, I don’t know him all that well and it’s too soon. But… that’s why I said a little”.

“So you like him for real, huh?”. Thalia asked. The look in her eyes was earnest in a way that Percy wasn’t very used to. He and Thalia had been friends for a long time now, but it wasn’t often that they ended up talking seriously to each other.

Percy nodded. He really didn’t think he had ever liked anyone like he liked Nico before.

“Now, I don’t know him too well”, Thalia said. “But Jason told me once that it took him a pretty long time to get close to him ‘cause Nico isn’t an easy person - so, from what I know and from what you told me, I can say that you are an exception to this rule”.

Percy’s heart was running miles.

He thought about Nico so easily talking to him, smiling at him, thought of him asking about him out of worry, of him taking his hand and getting in the ocean with him despite his fear of it.

“I can ask Jason about him, if you want. But”, Thalia continued, pointing a finger at him. “You better text him - today”.

~~

When he went home that evening, the phone felt heavy in his head.

He would see Nico tomorrow anyway, he didn’t have to text him, he could easily wait until he could talk to him face to face. Or he could simply wait until tomorro’s evening and see if Nico would be at the beach after his shift again. He could.

It didn’t feel like the right thing to do. It felt like the coward way out, the one that wouldn’t lead to anything more.

And so, before he could think too much about it, he pressed send.

Me: Ehi, Nico! You have the afternoon shift tomorrow, right? Let’s hang out at the beach again after it?

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

The sunlight disorients him.

Usually, he wakes to a blaring alarm. If he has no alarm set, nothing planned for the day, he wakes when he cannot physically stand the taste of his own breath anymore, stumbling out of bed and ambling like a zombie for the nearest toothbrush. (On rare, rare occasions, he wakes to humming – low, drawling, lilting, floating around his darkened room, brightening it. He dreams about those mornings.)

He cannot remember the last time he woke to gentle sun.

Stretching, he takes a minute to catalogue the space as he wakes up, noticing the light curtains over wide windows, small TV tucked in between two double beds, and a desk, larger than he would have expected, taking up the far right corner.

Will is nowhere to be found.

“Jogging, mebbe,” Nico mumbles to himself; tiny, forgotten accent slipping out before he can stop it. Gingerly, he peels off the blankets and pads to the bathroom. Will’s blue-capped toothbrush sits next to the sink, quelling Nico’s ridiculous anxiety that Will, actually, has never been here at all, and Nico dreamed this whole thing up. He smiles slightly at the dorky stickers plastered all over the handle, colour mostly worn away, and the watch forgotten next to the soap dispenser. 

He hears a heavy door open and shut, pausing to make out quiet footsteps over the running water. Quickly rinsing the suds off his face, he towels off and steps back out into the hotel room, watching his friend.

Will has his back turned, hunched over the desk. He wears a hoodie, blue with big white clouds all over it – his favourite – and, of course, horrible cargo shorts. Nico counts seven pockets, and that’s just what he can see from the back. There is a book shoved in two of them, keys hanging out of a third, and an apple bulging from the pocket near his hip.

“Morning.”

Will jumps, whirling around. 

“You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” Nico says, not sorry. He’s grinning. “Were you out for a run?”

“I was out for a run hours ago, yes. It’s, like, ten-thirty, dude. You’ve been sleeping for eight hundred years.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’ve had this argument more times than he can physically count, he refuses to have it again when he doesn’t have the upper hand. He’ll bring it up again when Will’s sleepy again at nine o’clock. “Where were you?”

Will steps to the side, revealing three separate heaping plates of food on the desk, piled high with eggs, toast, a muffin, bacon, and, of course, an entire plate devoted to fruit. Nico descends upon it like a swarm of seagulls upon a terrorized child’s ice cream cone – with fury, insatiable hunger, and endless hubris. He makes sure to ignore the fruit.

Five minutes later, he’s satiated enough to turn a percentage of his attention away from the food. He spins the desk chair halfway to face Will, instead, curled up on the bed with one knee pulled to his chest, watching him fondly.

“How many times did you almost drop this on the way up?” he asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Will’s smile drops, eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

“Four floors, and there’s a good chance you took the stairs to keep the elevators for ‘someone who needs them more’, so –”

“I hate you.”

“– I’m guessing one time per flight of stairs? Oh, wait, there are three plates, definitely more –”

“I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again.”

“– and you have a new band-aid on your knee, so you definitely tripped and dropped it at least once.” He pops the last of the bacon in his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Twice? Three times? If you don’t tell me I’m going to assume six and move on.”

Will’s glare intensifies. He mumbles something.

“Hm?”

He mumbles again. Nico doesn’t even pretend not to be delighted. He knows the smile on his face is wide enough to make him look deranged, he simply doesn’t care. Opportunities to press Will’s buttons this beautiful do not show up every day. He must treasure them.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Hadtogoback.”

“Gonna have to speak up, bud.”

“I had to go back!” Will explodes, hands thrown in the air. “I fuckin’ – I dropped the stupid plates, the first time, so I had to fuckin’ – clean it up and – two stupid trips, you jerk, you better appreciate this –”

Nico almost bites through his lip. “You dropped it?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Will says defensively. “I was concentrating really hard but –”

Nico loses it.

“– my shoe got caught on the last step and I didn’t have any hands to catch myself.” He scowls. “Three people saw.”

He can’t breathe. There are genuine, actual tears streaming down his face, burn in his eyes almost as bad as the burn in his lungs, the ache in his belly. He wraps his shaking arms around himself in an attempt to hold himself together, laughing so hard he feels like his muscles might actually rip themselves off his bones. Every time he tries to calm down, he pictures Will, in his dorky flip-flops, egg in his hair, half a muffin crushed on his cheek, bright red, sprawled on the ground, food everywhere. If he could think of literally anything else, he’d be worried about his heart straight-up failing. 

“I hate you. Actually.”

“I’m – oh my God,” he wheezes. He manages, finally, to get an actual breath in, desperately trying to think of literally anything else to calm down. Fucking – bumper to bumper traffic. Bedbugs. His father’s frowning face. That always works. “Holy shit, Will.”

“I should’ve just woken your ungrateful ass up.”

“Probably.” He flicks a grape at him, smiling. Will catches it in his mouth, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Whatever.”

Nico finishes the rest of his breakfast in relative peace, managing to turn away if his mouth threatens to betray the tentative truce they’ve negotiated. He even eats one entire peach when Will starts pelting him with tiny hotel soap bottles and listing side effects of cholesterol-induced heart disease.

The second he finishes the last bite, Will orders him to clear off the desk. Nico mutters about bossiness and how Will is most definitely not in charge of him, doing as he asks. When he comes back – took him a hot second to shove the paper plates into a small enough ball to fit in the garbage can – Will has dragged the desk over to the bed, sitting criss-cross next to it, examining one of the many papers he has covering it.

“So,” he says, gesturing next to him. Nico dutifully sits, peering at the various maps and markings. “We gotta plan part two.”

“Didn’t we already do this?” Nico asks. “Back at Dunkin’s?”

“Not this far. I wanted to Preserve the Spontaneous Road Trip Spirit.” Nico can hear the capitalization.

“So, planning, then.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Nico smiles. “Brief me, captain.”

Will jumps right in, pointing and gesturing and every once and a while catching Nico’s eye to ask, right? Sound good?

Nico just watches him. 

The midday sun shines directly in his face, catching and reflecting on his pale eyelashes, making his eyes go squinty. His excitement is obvious, in his chattering, his waving hands, his bouncing curls; every part of him moving. Even his stupid cargo shorts look endearing, every other pocket bulging, filled absentmindedly with slips of paper or pens or bandaids or granola bars. Nico watches him and feels he might burst.

“You’re not listening,” Will accuses.

Nico jumps back into focus. “Yes I am.”

“What’d I just say?”

“‘You’re not listening’.”

WIll cracks a smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Run over that again,” Nico answers, and grins devilishly when Will does. Not funny his ass.

He listens, though, through Will’s second explanation. It’s not too hard – Will’s always been organised. The wide penciled circle around their location in Atlanta, outlining the area they can drive before their next fuel stop, is pretty wide. But the options are limited, in Nico’s opinion – while he’s sure there is indeed something to do in South Carolina, there’s nothing to do for him, specifically. He’s cool with skipping it.

“There is one place we can go,” Will says. His voice has gone oddly quiet, and after at minute he glances over at Nico, like he’s waiting for his permission.

“Your road trip, dude,” he murmurs, nudging their shoulders together. “I’ll even go to South Carolina if you want to, but no promises that I won’t complain about it.”

That, thankfully, draws a huff out of him, some of the tenseness fading from his frame. 

“South Carolina is beautiful, you know.”

“Says the boy who is currently visiting his third state ever.”

“...Touché.” He taps his pencil on the map, pink eraser thunking somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. “I was thinking – we could try Nashville? Music Row, or Broadway?”

Nico groans. “Oh, of course you wanna go hang out with all the goddamn hillbillies, you fuckin’ country boy –”

“It’s good music!”

Nico groans louder. Secretly, though, he watches his friend out of the corner of his eye, watches as his shoulders slump, relieved, and he knows he’ll spend as long as he needs in lasso-slingin’ Tennessee, following Will in and out of – barns and ranches and cowboy boot shops, probably. Are saloons still a thing?

He has a feeling that there is more to Will’s hesitance than a fear about being judged for his Marty Robbins obsession. If Tennessee is where he’s gonna get answers – well. He’ll brave the goddamn sea of cowboy hats.

A knock at the door startles them both. A voice calls hesitantly through the door: “Mr. di Angelo?”

“Wrong door, probably,” Will whispers after a moment. He looks to Nico. “Right?”

There’s another knock. “Mr. di Angelo?” 

“Yeah.” Nico rolls of the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt. “Another room with a Mr. di Angelo.”

He creeps towards the door, keeping low as if whoever’s outside can see him. After a moment, the bed creaks, and Will’s quiet footsteps pad behind him. 

“You think it’s room service?” Will whispers, plastered to the opposite side of the door. Even ducking, his hair brushes the edge of the peephole. 

Nico shoves his head down, pinching him when he squawks. “Be quiet, tall person, I need to see.”

“Get a stepstool then, jerk! Stop using my neck as a lever!”

“What part of be quiet are you missing! God!”

“Mr. di Angelo, please open the door.”

The voice on the other side of the door sounds amused. Face flaming, Nico shoves Will somewhere behind him, still bitching, and swings open the door. 

“Good afternoon,” says the man in the hallway. He’s dressed very smartly in a tailored black suit, nametag reading Eric. “Are you Mr. di Angelo?”

Nico clears his throat, trying to stand taller. “That’s me.”

“Good. I’m with Hotel Administration. We received a fax for you this morning?” He hands Nico a manilla folder. “First page says confidential, so we put it in the envelope. We tried to call this morning but didn’t get any response.”

Vaguely, Nico remembers a ringing phone. He also remembers yanking the plug out of the wall in sleep-deprived rage.

Oops.

Ignoring Will’s snickering, Nico thanks the man, closing the door and sitting on the nearest bed. Will scooches over to make room for him, tossing and catching a pillow. Nico leans back against the headboard, crossing his leg over Will’s.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“Checking now.”

The envelope is the cheap kind you get in a box of fifty; speckled brown, thin, machine-cut. It’s not sealed and so Nico flips it open easily, sliding out a small stack of papers. The first is a huge CONFIDENTIAL, printed diagonally across otherwise blank paper. The second is a bank statement. 

Nico shoots upright.

“What? Nico, what’s –”

“Mr. di Angelo, we regret to lose your business,’” Nico recites in a shaking voice, “‘but appreciate your time with us and wish you all the best with your future banking.’”

Frantically, he scans the document again. Successful cancellation. Expedited closure date. Transferred affairs to –

– parent account. 

“–co? Nico? Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

The air pushes out of Nico’s lungs like a crushed balloon. “Fuck.”

“Nico.” Warm hands press on his bloodless cheeks, fingers sliding in his hair. “Nico, look at me.”

He gasps. Will squeezes gently, eyes dark and stern and kind, thumbs callus-rough and dragging across his cheekbones.

“Good. Again. There you go, you got it.” 

Nico grabs his wrists when he tries to pull away. Will takes the hint, sliding his hands under Nico’s free one and knocking their shoulders together.

“What’s wrong, Nico?” 

Instead of answering, Nico sets the papers on the bed between them. Will squints, and for a second Nico prays that he’s wrong, that he’s mixed up the words. That it doesn’t say what it knows it does.

Then Will inhales, quick and sharp, and the hope is dashed.

“Your card…”

“Next page,” Nico says softly.

Niccolò,

The papers rustle as Will flips them, and this one he takes much longer to read. 

Vorrei sapere che ho fermato un caso di frode alla radice.

After a minute, he holds it out, shaking his head.

Un criminale ha rubato la tua carta di credito, e l’ha usata per comprare una stanza d’albergo in Georgia. Qualche spacciatore, non ci sono dubbi.

“It’s a little formal, I can’t –”

Ho disattivato la carta, naturalmente. Ti darò quella nuova appena ti vedrò.

Nico takes the scanned letter. Vaguely, he registers Will’s hands brushing up his arms as they move two wrap around his face again, this time forcing his jaw to unclench.

“Power play,” Nico snarls. His clenched fingers wrinkle the pulpy paper.  “He knows exactly where I am. If he wanted to drag me home, he could drag me by the fucking –”

“But instead he’s forcing you to call him,” Will says softly. “Oh, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

The hands drop from his face again. It knocks the cloudiness right out of Nico’s head, and he snaps up, frowning at Will’s crooking fingers, the bitten lips. He won’t meet Nico’s eyes.

“Why are you sorry my father’s being a haughty jackass who suddenly cares what I do with my time?”

“And his money.” Will picks up the bank statement, reading over it again, and again, like it might change. Like Nico’s credit card will magically become un-cancelled, like they will suddenly become un-stranded. “This whole stupid thing is my fault. I never should have dragged you into it, Neeks, I’m so –”

“If you apologise again I’m going to push you off the bed.”

“– sorry.” 

“Will.” Nico snatches back the statement, shaking his head. He waits until blue eyes meet his then smiles, as reassuringly as he can with such a pit in his stomach. “My father is –” He sighs. “It’s not about the money. You know he doesn’t care about the money.”

Will shrugs. It’s true – Nico has made dumber purchases. When he was twelve, he bought a trampoline, just to see if his father would say anything. Fifteen, marble statue. Sixteen, a car.

Then he stopped trying.

“How far can we go, on the gas we have? How many miles?”

Will shrugs. “Three and a half hours? Four, if we push it?”

“And on a full tank of gas?”

“Almost six.”

“And then we’re stuck.”

“And then we’re stuck, yeah. Unless you got Greyhound money hidden somewhere.”

Nico sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what he wants, Will. He doesn’t care about the – about the stupid money. He wants me. He wants me to ask, rather, to pick up a phone and beg him to come get us ‘cause we have no other options. He wants me to admit I need his help.”

The first time he ran away, he’d had to avoid every cop car. He knew he was being looked for, he saw his own face plastered on news screens. It had only been a matter of time. The second attempt was – easier. Much easier. He’d hardly even had to hide his face. By the third time, he’d waited a week, waited almost a month, before he was cold and hungry and walked to the nearest social services building himself. The car ride home, the humiliation so potent he could taste the bitterness of it, had made the cold, rainy nights with nothing but the same ratty hoodie he’d worn when he left worth it. He swore he’d never subject himself to that again. 

And yet here he is. 

Out of options. 

“You know what? No.” In a swift, unstoppable movement, Will snatches the stack of papers, ripping them into four pieces faster than Nico can reach an arm out to stop him. “We’re not doing this.”

“Will – what –”

He throws himself off the bed, stomping over to his backpack. A folded pair of socks goes flying over his shoulder, a book hits the ground with a heavy thunk. His muttering grows louder, cursing interspersed between every word.

“What are you –”

“We are not dealing with this right now.” With a frustrated finally, Will yanks a bag of something out of his backpack, stomping back towards the bed. He throws a Ziploc bag onto the duvet, and it bounces once, twice, three times before splitting open and spilling quarters everywhere.

“What the hell is –”

“You already payed for the room, right?”

Nico snaps his jaw shut. “Yes.”

“And it’s Saturday.”

“I – it is, yeah.”

“Not a business day.”

“No.”

“Well.” Will nods. “Bank’s closed. Hotel can’t process anything, and they have no reason to suspect your card, which worked just fine last night, is gonna bounce. We’ve got a day of breathing room, at least, and I don’t want to think about it.”

He holds up a hand when Nico starts to argue, grim set to his mouth giving way to something a little sharper, a little more dangerous. 

“We might not be old enough to gamble, but when you’re in Atlanta, you do as the Atlantians do.” He meets Nico’s eye, grinning. “You still any good Street Fighters?”

———

next chapter

[tofixtheshadows]

hi!! so there are a lot of improbabilities that make this hypothetical unlikely but: if kabru had met toshiro first & recruited him (toshiro being so passive + not with a clear goal would have helped there & kabru is ptsd-driven but very noble in his goals which can be explained) AND they got all the way down to the bottom (idk if i believe in them...but hypothetically!) would the winged lion find either of them to be a good target for next dungeon lord? one over the other? im thinking kabru has the intensity and complexity of desire necessary but i can't imagine what it would look like if he became lord of the dungeon. do you have any thoughts?

Good morning. This is a very fun thought experiment!

(side note: I got a second anon this morning with a very similar request? not sure if related. I'm gonna let this answer speak for both of them)

Toshiro sure would have had a different time of it if Kabru had gotten to him first, huh? On the one hand, Toshiro seems to like Kabru; I think it's sweet that Kabru seems to gravitate towards hanging out with him when he isn't with the rest of the main cast. So they probably would've been good in a party together.

On the other hand, Toshiro never would have met Falin and fallen in love with her. Even if she didn't reciprocate in the end, I don't think he regrets anything that happened. Even his difficult friendship with Laios was ultimately positive (for both of them!).

They definitely would not have made it to the deeper floors, I think Senshi is crucial to achieving that ... but this is a hypothetical.

I'm puzzling over the question of Toshiro, because he is a secondary character and there's only so much we know about his motivations. His big one in canon is to save Falin, even if it means all he can do is put her to rest. Without that, without her, what sort of desires does he have?

Toshiro originally came to the Island because of a demand from his father: for one of his three sons to find "something interesting" enough on their travels to bring back home that would convince their capricious bastard father to make them his heir over the others. So they're all off on their separate training journeys with their respective retainers with the added caveat that they can't return without something to impress their father. It's implied that after falling in love with Falin, Toshiro had wanted to bring back home a wife.

Since he's said to inherit the family after he returns home without her anyway, I've been assuming that the "thing" Toshiro ended up bringing to Toshitsugu Nakamoto was the story of the dungeon, the demon, and his friend Laios, king of a risen country and Devourer of All Things Horrible.

Anyway, the things we know about Toshiro's home life are kind of fucked. It's amazing he turned out to be so nice. He's always been a shy, sensitive person, and he was sickly as a child; Maizuru cared for him despite her spymaster duties and ended up filling a motherly role for him, even though Toshiro's mother is still alive. Historically, it wasn't uncommon for noble children to be raised more closely by their governesses/household retainers than their parents, so perhaps something similar was happening here (disclaimer that I don't know much about feudal Japan specifically).

We know that Maizuru loves Toshiro and dotes on him, but she's also very strict and frankly terrifying; she used the same Hag summon that she was monitoring Izutsumi with on Toshiro as a child just to keep him from wandering off. We also know that when he found out that Maizuru was having an affair with his father, it put a distance between them. Whether this is because he felt betrayed on his mother's behalf or because he dislikes his father that much, or something else, is unclear.

Toshiro was childhood friends with Hien, but as they got older, she had to take his place as one of his retainers, which seems to have severed that closeness. Canonically, he isn't close to his two younger brothers either. Toshitsugu literally bought Inutade and Izustumi (the latter as a drunken "gift" for Maizuru!). We see that Toshiro is uncomfortable with this, but doesn't know how to approach the issue. He lets Izutsumi go the second she's out of sight for five minutes, which implies to me that he really wanted the excuse to do so. Inutade is harder, because she loves being with the Nakamoto family and hero-worships Toshiro's father.

...all this to say, Toshiro has complicated relationships with his family and household. There's love there, but also a lot of coldness enforced by the upper-class need for propriety. Toshiro falls in line and acts as the proper stoic samurai, but he chafes at this; he envies Laios's gift for feeling and expressing things openly and readily. I think that's what the Winged Lion would prey on, given the chance.

I don't think he would be prime dungeon lord material, but if it came to that, I could see the Lion tempting Toshiro with a kinder vision of his life, one where he and his little brothers weren't pitted against one another, where his family was warmer, where there weren't barriers of class between him and his retainers, where he was allowed to be more himself.

Now ... Kabru.

Kabru is interesting because, since his ultimate goal is to seal the dungeon and eradicate monsters, I imagine that meeting a demon would be like a guy who's given a genie and wants to wish for no more genies. And if said genie is trying to take over the world via wishes, the genie is a bit screwed. I really think that Kabru is the character who would stump the demon(s) the most, despite his complex desires, because they are antithetical to the demon. Laios also had complex desires, but the Winged Lion lured him and set him up as the hero of a fake prophecy because a lot of Laios's desires revolved around monsters, so his wants aligned perfectly with the demon's methods. Oh you want monsters? That's great, they're the things I use to solve most of my problems anyway.

Even in the absence of prior knowledge of demons, I think Kabru's back would be up as soon as the Winged Lion tried speaking to him. Kabru's insight is almost preternatural, and he's well-versed in persuasive speaking thanks to his own silver tongue. He would mistrust the Lion immediately, especially considering its monster-like form.

Giving the demons bestial appearances is an artistic choice on Kui's part, so I don't think there's any indication that the Winged Lion & co can't look human, but the Lion might have been constrained both by Thistle's seals on it and the need to maintain the lie that it's just the innocent guardian deity of the Golden Country. If it could, I think it would try to look less monstrous, with Kabru.

Still, the point of the demons, I see, is that anyone can be tempted, anyone can be manipulated, because we are all full of buried desires that can be unearthed, and wanting things and having to defend them make you susceptible to manipulation.

Consider what Mithrun told Kabru: they keep the knowledge of demons secret because knowing the truth would not stop people from trying to have their wishes granted. After all, Mithrun was a Canary, but he fell for its temptation anyway. I've seen people characterize this as a sort of rock bottom decision, and maybe that's true, but I also pin it on his toxic inferiority/superiority complex. That's exactly the kind of thing that makes you think you're built different.

Would Marcille have stopped before unsealing the Winged Lion if Mithrun(/Kabru) had actually gotten to sit down with her for five minutes and explain why becoming dungeon lord would be a very bad idea? Maybe. Or maybe her desperation, and her own pride, would have made her decide that she knew better, that she'd be careful, that she'd go in with a plan and definitely get what she wanted with no dire consequences.

I think Kabru could be desperate enough to make a similar decision, even if his desires were antithetical to the demon. And the demons have an advantage over the aforementioned genie simile: their ability to eat desires.

If the Winged Lion were smart, it wouldn't let Kabru seal it away like Thistle. Given the opportunity, its best chance for dealing with Kabru would have been to immediately eat his desire to stop another Utaya.

I'm gonna plug this wonderful and tragic little one-shot someone wrote recently about the dungeon lord Kabru hypothetical: This place is not a place of honor.

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/761747687384252416/i-dont-care-how-much-you-hate-me-you-need-to?source=share

so i'm imagining that tim gets free

(maybe it's steph who's on the outs with tim and doesn't believe him about bruce but sure as fuck doesn't approve of whatever the hell this is or maybe it's damian who's jealous that tim is getting any so much of dick's attention despite the fact that he's the heir and robin)

regardless tim gets the fuck out of gotham and goes on his international art theft adventure to find bruce

unfortunately for everyone dick processes to lose his shit and now damian (and steph to a lesser extent) is doing for dick what tim did for bruce

also a lot of heroes are drawing parallels between this and b reaction after jason died

anyway tim gets his proof (and get saved by jason bc jason's looking at dick all "this is really creepy actually and i don't want you anywhere near tim despite how bad our relationship is")

tim then goes to green arrow with his proof because he knows that man would call dick out no matter what costume he's wearing and he actually does an ok job with all the kids he picks up

there's a jla meeting and dick sees tim and is just as unstable as tim guessed he would be and it's pinging everyone's radar as A Problem now

but obviously they get bruce back and no this is his problem bc literally everyone in the league is like "pls keep dick away from tim, his behavior has passed weird and gone into extremely unsettling"

i can't see what happens next bc i can't imagine bruce actually being help but i can see him being a disaster when he tries and that would be funny

this is SO good anon i love all of these things based on that fic so much aaaa

personally when i was writing it, i imagined Jason being the one to break Tim free. not out of wanting to save Tim or anything, but more so seeing it as a chance to make Tim owe him, and just to fuck with Dick. Jason will cause problems because He Can, and while i don't think he would particularly care for the moral implications of Dick holding Tim hostage (Jason was morally all over the place during Dick's Batman era i fear) he's just morbidly curious. that said the idea of Steph being the one to do so is also fun, because for her it *would* be the moral issue as well as caring about Tim. i think the most fun option is somewhere in the middle, where Jason and Steph are forced to team up, each with different end goals and not trusting each other whatsoever. so when they succeed and get Tim safely out of Dick's hold, there's a deep disagreement and slight scuffle over what to do now, Jason trying to manipulate Tim further against Dick and onto his side, whereas Steph is just prioritizing Tim's safety. i think it's fun if Tim is slightly mentally broken, just from how long he was held captive and the realization of Dick's feelings at the end fo the fic. so he's distrusting of anyone he's once trusted, even Steph, that he just slips away to focus on getting Bruce back, leaving both Jason and Steph trying to chase Tim. and course, Dick.

because Dick would of course try to get Tim back, again and again. Damian is trying to reel Dick back, just because he wants Dick's attention and he does sort of believe they should focus on Gotham. and then Steph is also trying to distract Dick to protect Tim. so everyone's tail spinning in the most complicated game of cat and mouse. Steph and Damian are forced on the same side, trying to get Dick to focus on Gotham instead of Tim, just for now. Steph is promising to keep an eye on Tim, Damian is insisting Gotham needs Dick's attention and combined, they're able to at least keep his immediate focus away from Tim, giving Tim time to find his proof. Jason having to save him is just *fun*, because it reinforces how sort of helpless Tim is. he's not up on his training and his become soft and with Dick's need to catch up to him eventually, it puts him in a vulnerable spot he would *hate.* he'd despise needing to be saved by Jason of all people. it'd fuck him up so bad, because all the bad things Jason is saying about Dick are technically true and somehow, the world is so flipped upside down that Jason is the reasonable one. i think it'd make Tim isolate more and more, distancing himself from the Batfamily, even the ones he should trust like Steph. sure, he's on the outs with her (likely still upset from the Search For A Hero arc) but she's looking out for him. and maybe he knows it, deep down, but Tim is just terrified of trusting anyone associated with the Bat name.

and since he can't go to the Batfam with his proof, him going to Oliver is *so* fun. i adore any concept where Oliver is the one to notice something is very wrong in the Batfam i swear anon it's like you're connected to my BRAIN. because sure Oliver doesn't *like* Bruce, but even Oliver knows this is fucked up. the story Tim tells him is a horrifying one. Oliver has always done right by his kids, or at least tried his best to. so to know what Dick pulled is horrifying. there's this implicit trust the entire hero community has in Nightwing that would get badly shaken up and i think that's fun. the Justice League meetings about it would be a shitshow. someone like Clark who's as close to Dick as he is would want to at least hear Dick out, try to understand his point of view. maybe Dick was in the wrong, but he had to have been doing this out of a place of concern and Tim's just twisted up about Dick's intentions. at the very least, trust in Dick is shattered but no one can agree on what to do, if they can do anything at all. it's agreed to keep TIm safe and away from Dick and long talks are had with Dick, but Dick is disturbingly good at being charming and manipulative, convincing them all he's sorry and he knows he took it too far, it's just the stress of the mantle that got to him.

and Bruce coming back would further complicate things in such fun ways. because Bruce will *always* protect and side with Dick. yes, he's worried about Tim, but he refuses to let any negative blowback hit Dick for this. because sure, Bruce would've never done that, but also, Bruce has done equally shitty things so, he's also not going to fully question it. Dick made a judgment call in the heat of the moment, and now, Bruce is going to defend his right to do so. it sends the League even more out of control, because they didn't expect Bruce to be so deeply on Dick's side. the phase "what would Bruce think?" got thrown at Dick a lot by all of them and now, well. they look a bit like fools for it because Bruce has made it clear what he thinks is that Dick had the right to make the call he thought was best as Batman. so while Dick is socially exiled, he doesn't face any *real* consequences. he's still in hero society and is respected as Nightwing and allowed to exist on the League. Dick just patiently waits for it all to blow over because eventually, there's always something more important to focus on that will make people forget about this outside of just a weird bad mistake Dick made.

and the longterm for TIm is fun. because I think he'd keep his distance from Gotham and Bludhaven, mostly keeping around Oliver, given Oliver is one of the few League members still refusing to let it all go, and it gives Tim some kind of safety net. but i think Dick would still try to pursue Tim. Dick would convince himself he just went about it the wrong way, he came on a little too strongly and he can still fix it. he keeps harassing Tim and trying to get Tim to like him back, making it clear he has no real regret for his actions. i think it's fun if Tim is forced to fake a relationship with someone else to get Dick to leave him alone. maybe Jason, maybe Steph. (honestly, this being JayTimSteph could be fun) and that fake relationship ends up developing into something more real, which would make Dick *insanely* jealous. i'm torn between Dick actually taking it too far (possibly forcing himself on Tim) or keeping his distance because both are fun. i'm partial to him forcing himself on Tim, just for the fucked up non-con that Tim has to cope with, knowing nothing he does will get Dick to leave him alone. he learns the best ways to stay safe, but it essentially kills his ability to have a vigilante career bc it puts him too out in the open. he takes a more Oracle-esque role (Tim working with the Birds of Prey could be a lot of fun) and always lives in some kind of fear of Dick catching up to him. it's so fun and fucked up that even when Tim escapes, he doesn't really and he knows it.

[white-weasel]

Thinking about the au where Brit and Mallick become apprentices again and moreso thinking about Dr. Gordon watching all of it unfold.

He sees himself in Brit, professional hotshots, too busy with work to care about other people’s thoughts or feelings. Through their time in their traps they are pushed to realize that there is no weakness in emotion and that relationships built with others can push people to do what they need to, even in life or death situations. They made a connection within the game and that connection changed their entire life.

In Mallick he sees Adam, both men who seemed to be surrounded by people who said they cared, but never actually did. They wanted to escape from life and didn’t realize just how much they truly wanted to live until they were actually faced with death.

And sometimes when he looks at the two of them, Mallick saying something dumb and Brit rolling her eyes but not quite being able to hide the corner of her mouth twitching up, he can see it being him and Adam instead. In his mind, they’re living out the exact same “what if” scenario that Lawrence has been playing out in his mind for years — a scenario that could have been real if only he had kept his promise to Adam

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

hi!!!! kicks my feet id like to see ur wiwi first death thoughts pls

- @suckinitup

MY BELOVED MUTUAL SUCKINITUP HOW ARE YOU. HEAD IN HANDS. I LOVE WILLIAM WISP. FUCK. i think abt him constantly but i almost never write down my thoughts because if i think abt him for too long i make myself sick. like fr. i love him too much. ouuguhghhg going to just straight copy paste this under a cut because it is SO LONG sorry for any typos or sentences that sound weird out of context bc these were originally discord messages:

ohhhhhhh wiwi first death. god . i have so many fucking emotions about wiwi first death. before i get into this im going to say fork found in kitchen to myself because so much of how i view wiwi comes from a VERY SPECIFIC type of dp fanon that it would take me 12 years to actually explain in detail so im gonna say just trust me and understand that william wisp is literally just a fuckign. walmart rebrand of a type of danny characterization i really wish people would just oc-ify (thank you charlie slimecicle for doing this for me)

okayyyyyy okay okay okay. i love there being like. a STARK fucking difference between william before the fall and william after the fall. william before the fall was so much... brighter. in every sense of the word. he looks ALIVE because he is! hes just a . regular fuckign 16 yr old boy. that weird kid in your math class. and yeah he has . suuuuper undiagnosed untreated depression but like its a small rural town thats normal i think. hes got his little group of friends to spend hours with going on cool hikes and reading about the paranormal at the library and sitting in circles talking about conspiracy theories and things. i think UPP is. awesome. i hesitate to get too attached to them in headcanon world just because i dont want bizly to then introduce us to them in s3 and i have to reframe my whole mindset . whatever. i have vague ideas of who they are but the important bit is like. i just think theyre really good friends. and they spend a lot of time together. and william is kind of their defacto leader because... he is the only one of them who actually has truesight. they all believe in ghosts and monsters and stuff but william is the only one who can actually SEE THEM. like. constantly. and thats a lot. and even though they believe him they dont really like.... understand. which kind of makes william feel disconnected from basically everyone around him at all times. i dont think truesight is probably a well-known thing?? so when he was little and started crying to his parents about monsters they thought he just had bad night terrors and then he just................. hes 16 now and still talks about it (less so now, hes learned the horrors of middle- and hihg-school Shame and not to be Super Weird All The Time) so its more like. hmm theres something Wrong here but we dont know what and we dont know how to help. other people (you included ros) have said this better than me but goddddd you knowww the dynamic btwn william and his parents is rough. they love him! so much! and they want to support him! and william loves them too! but they dont GET IT they dont UNDERSTAND and its like. you know what i mean. when you get a mental health diagnosis and suddently everyone is treating you like youre made of glass and nobody really knows what to say around you anymore or whatever. you know what i mean. that.

ANYWAY ALL THIS IS FUCKING. PREAMBLE. GOD. the fall. man. i think there is a STRICT UPP rule of "dont go into the whispering woods alone" and thats the case for the ENTIRETY of their friendship. DONT go into the woods alone. william knows exactly what kind of shit lives in the woods and he knows hes the only one that can reliably see them and he doesnt want anyone to get hurt. MINIMUM of two members for whispering woods investigations. (this is not a town rule or anything. i think the adults of deadwood are aware that its a weird place but it all gets brushed off like . aha everywhere has quirks! and the UPP are like. the conspiracy kids that know the Real Stuff going on. very..... house of anubis is the closest Real Media vibe i can think of rn. UPP pre-fall is like the closest u will get to . scooby doo style monster of the week shenanigans that arent really super serious because theyre safe as they can be about it! bunch of kids doing a ouija board. you know how it is)

uhhhhhhh and then william starts acting weird! i think all of them are on a whispering woods investigation together and theyre all walking together and then william starts lagging behind, staring out at something none of them can see, kind of like. zoned out. tranfixed. and when theyre like "will what do you see?" he shakes his head and snaps out of it like. huh? what? nothing lets keep walking. (it was a wisp btw. obviously) and there are a couple more incidents of him doing this same thing on that one hike until eventually they decide to call it because theyre not finding anything else and tbh william youre kind of freaking us out here. will you be okay? and hes like yeah of course i will guys its nothing i swear. and then they all go home.

and thennnn without telling anyone a couple days later, william goes on a walk in the woods alone. he broke his OWN rule . on that hike he saw wisps and they were just too far away to see clearly off in the distance between the trees but he just Kept Seeing Them and the curiosity was just nagging and nagging away in his brain so much he had to know what they were (thats wisp magic babyyyy you know the mythology around them i dont need to explain that to you) . (and also there is a fair amount of. lack of self preservation because of the previously mentioned untreated unmanaged depression but if i start talking about that in detail i will overshare and also be soooooo emo forreal. know that that is an EXTREMELY important part of this decision but im also going with a little more of the teen mystery angle with this rn. bloody gory mental illness is for after he falls) so he packed his monster investigation backpack and he just. left. didnt even tell his parents he was going he just walked out of the house after school and went into the woods. and he saw the wisps again, but now that he was alone they were Closer and Brighter and they would move whenever he got close and then there was a trail of them ! like they were Leading him somewhere

and i think with some of the monsters he sees he can feel whetehr or not theyre out to hurt him . and the wisps dont feel like that. they feel... well. cold,becaue theyre ghosts, but also warm at the same time? inviting. they dont want to hurt him (they do) they just want to show him something and william "too curious for his own good" wisp wants to know what that thing is! i think he knows the woods really really well because he spends a lot of time out there. so somewhere far away in the back of his mind he kind of knows what theyre leading him toward. but he still jsut Has To Know, so he keeps jogging, keeps hopping over fallen logs and around low branches and theres always a little blue flame juuuuust out of reach so he keeps going . and then he gets to the cliff. its like a full on. burst out of the trees there is a wisp juuuust on the edge where the ground falls away. i think he trips on a root and falls flat on his stomach before he can completely just run off. it gives him a second to catch his breath, to look out and See where he is. for things to kind of come crashing down on him. if he hadnt tripped he wouldve run right off the edge and fallen and it was close enough of a near death experience for it to scare him. but the wisp is still there, and its the biggest brightest one hes seen yet and if he looks around he would see it looks like the entire forest behind him is glowing with tiny blue fires like theyre all watching him. i dont think hes really. thinking coherent thoughts at this point he just kind of. realizes now that hes out here he doesnt really want to go home. he doesnt want to go back to school, doesnt want to eat lunch in the bathroom and think about his brothers empty bedroom across the hall and have his parents look at him with such a weird mix of love and awkward pity and he knows his friends say they believe him but he can see it in their eyes sometimes that the things he says scares them and he really just has been a freak his whole life.... and he realizes as hes thinking all of this he's gotten to his feet and walked toward the wisp on the edge of the cliff. and hes just standing there feet on the very edge staring at it. its floated away now, hanging over the drop at eye level with him but its probably still close enough he could just... reach out.... and try to grab it...... and his feet slip on the rocks and JUST as he closes his hand around the wisp it almost feels like something pushes him (probably just the wind.. right?) and he falls.

he does Not remember hitting the bottom thank god. he remembers falling, and falling, and in the fall he realized he was still holding the wisp he grabbed in his hand and so he pulled it close to his chest as he fell and it almost felt like it was burning him but it was *cold* and .. then he woke up! he woke up in a misty foggy field in what looked to be the middle of the night but if he looks at the sky too long it looks *weird* its just black and empty and there are weird bluish swirls in it that could be clouds but look different, and there are trees in the distance but whenever he tries to walk toward them it feels like theyre moving the same distance away so it never really feels like hes getting anywhere.. and he trips over what he thinks is a rock and lands in the foggy grass and looks behind him and realizes *oh my god thats a gravestone-* and then he wakes up again, for real this time !!! (<< that scene is like. thats His Island. thats his lair or whatever. remember when mal first took him to the spirit world and they were in the graveyard and mal told him that was his. im going with dp style spirit world lairs and this one is williams. hear me out)

aaand. when he wakes up for real. he is at. the bottom of the cliff. EVERYTHING hurts. everything hurts so fucking badly but also everything is like... weirdly numb? and he doesnt really remember that weird dream with the fog and the trees and the grave its all kind of fading as he wakes up more and more and ... his hands are empty hes not holding the wisp anymore. he doesnt know how much time has passed. was any of that even real or did he just have some kind of nervous breakdown and jump off a fuckign cliff? i think he fucking sits there and cries about it for a loooooong time. and everythihng hurts but its gonna start getting dark soon he NEEDS to go home before it gets dark, his parents will start to worry about him and he doesnt want to do that to them. also he might need to get to a hospital or something but hey! he can move! he can stand up and walk! so he must not have any broken bones or anything he just. is bruised and sore probably. and so he. sooooo slowly. so slowly. makes his way back up the cliff (theres. a path. he doesnt have to climb i promise) and back home. alone. no wisps or anything, just william alone with his thoughts. which is . goddd its bad. thats why it takes him so long. ohhh my god what am i even gonna fucking say when i get there. hi mom and dad sorry i needed to clear my head and follow some weird ghosts and in the process i tried to kill myself and it didnt work? fuck?

so by the time he gets home... huh. the door is locked thats weird. its not fully dark yet and his parents know he stays out late with his friends a lot of the time so they usually leave the door unlocked for him. so he knocks. and his mom answers the door and takes one look at him and just fucking breaks down into tears. and so his dad comes in from around the corner to see whats going on and he starts crying too. and william is so. freaked out by this. guys whats wrong what happened. turns out he has been missing for. two weeks. nobody knew where he was or what happened and the woods are alive and weird and anyone who went out in a search part just ended up getting lost themselves and came back like an hour later with nothing. they thought he was dead. (which. i mean. he was. but like. not in the way they thought). so theres this big huge emotional family group hug or whatever with william all dirty with leaves and twigs in his hair and torn clothes and mud on his hands and feet and his mom and dad are just like oh thank god youre alive thank god youre home what happened to you and... man. euguhhhhahghhhh. emo. sorry. god. head in hands .

i thiiink. he kind of ends up telling them what happened. he leaves out the wisps though. his watered down version is.. i just needed to clear my head, i went out into the woods, i got lost, i tripped and fell. (remember how william downplays it for dakota when he asks. i tripped and fell) he doesnt tell them about the wisps but like. that almost makes it worse becuase they KNOW about his bad mental health even if they dont fully understand it and.... this version makes it sound suspiciously way more like it was just a direct suicide attempt. which. william IMMEDIATELY regrets as soon as it leaves his mouth. but thats his story now. so everything kind of... goes back to normal? normal ish??? as nrmal as they can i fucking guess?? for a couple days and he has to go back to school and. god it fucking sucks. gossip . you know how it is. hey that kid tried to kill himself and got lost in the woods for two weeks what a weirdo he freaks everyone out . that kind of stuff. so hes more isolated than EVER and even his friends wont really talk to him although theyre more... sad. than anything else. they just dont really know what to say. theyre teenagers. idk. uhhhhhh then one day he reallyreallly REALLY doesnt want to be somewhere so he hides in the bathroom and.. doesnt realize it at first but he goes invisible. and its not until a couple other kids come in and leave and dont acknowledge him at all that he notices something is weird (he feels bone chillignly cold but like. its a shitty old school building in the very beginnings of winter of course its gonna be cold) and he looks in the mirror and realizes he cant see himself. and after that more and more of his powers kind of. slowly manifest? and he is VERY bad at controlling them and he plans not to tell anyone at first (hes already enough of a freak) until one day his dad finds him like. halfway through the floor in his bedroom and its this . kind of funny ridicuous but also really scary moment. and william has a realization at some point like. oh. i think i *died*. and auughhghg. i think thats all i ahve for now. but . man. when i tell you i think about this soo fucking much man.

[torchickentacos]

If anyone else's windows device taskbar has been giving them too much world health news and prompting anxiety spirals, you can turn this thing off:

by right-clicking any blank part of the task bar, hitting this:

and turning this off.

Signed, 'oh my god I already mask indoors every day and live in constant fear of my jacked up immune system leading to my untimely demise, please stop telling me about fun new diseases'.

[itsjaywalkers]

making ghosts, ch 7