#it'll take a while for me to write edit and revise

[obae-me]

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

No one asked for it, but I wanted it, so here it is! I was going through some of my old stuff, particularly this series because it was a personal favorite of mine. And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated. Partially because of nightbringer, but also because my writing style has changed a bit over the last few years. So, I figured I'd go through it all, edit a few things, take out a few bits I didn't agree with character wise, and add some details here and there to make it all flow a little better! Lucifer's chapter especially got a chunky overhaul (yeesh that one made me cringe). The changes aren't enormous, but just enough to make a difference I think. And now I get to put them all in one nice little post! I'll still be keeping my older versions on my masterlist. It'll be kinda neat to have both there for comparison's sake. Plus I added a little bonus scene at the end that's... a teaser of things I have planned. See if you can guess what it is. Oh, and if you're new here, hi! Enjoy a silly fic I made!

Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Sickness, fainting, blood mention, gagging, fighting, medication use, brief taking of double doses. General sickfic things.

It spread as a rumor first. The halls of RAD were always abuzz with the latest news; the newest trend, an upcoming event, what Diavolo was having for lunch. However, lately the only thing everyone seemed to be talking about was a new airborne virus. Students clustered less frequently in the halls, sharing hushed whispers on who had been most recently afflicted. You had been assured that humans should be immune to this particular strain but to still err on the side of caution. Take the proper steps to keep yourself in good health. Waves of sickness like this always came closer to the wintertime, much like the human realm. And while the air in the Devildom carried a general sense of anxiety, no one in the House of Lamentation seemed worried in the least.

“We’re technically fallen angels, not demons.”

“Psh, you think a little virus is enough to affect us? No chance!”

“There’s no way any of us will get sick. Don’t worry.”

Pride was rampant throughout the House. So…perhaps it was only fitting that Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it.

He had shown symptoms a few days before, beginning with not having the energy to scold Mammon. Then it snowballed from there. Almost losing his balance while going up the stairs, putting too much sweetener in his coffee, failing to focus over relatively mindless things, it concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice…or perhaps they were pretending not to, taking advantage of Lucifer’s odd state and doing whatever their sinful little hearts desired. No one thought it could be that serious, otherwise they might’ve done something about it. Kept a closer eye on him… But this was Lucifer after all. He got like this sometimes, they all claimed. He was simply working himself too hard again. But…even so…you knew something was off. This was more than just your typical burnout.

Did you dare risk damaging his pride to ask? You weighed the outcomes in your mind, deciding in the end to go check on what was wrong that night. Hoping to appeal to him, you had even made some of his favorite tea. You’d even prepared a second cup for you, secretly wanting to maybe share a moment of time together… Stepping slowly to ensure you didn’t spill a single drop, you went straight to his bedroom, knocking on his door exactly twice in even beats. No answer. His study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf which served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” you called, holding yourself back on worried feet. Waltzing in unannounced did not always grant you the warmest of receptions. He preferred to have some sort of warning. Although, this time there was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” you asked again, your voice slightly louder. Still nothing. You couldn’t hear any music… and he wasn’t often known to wear headphones. Just a peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to make sure he wasn’t inside. You stepped forward and poked your head through the doorway.

At first glance, the office appeared empty, his overly grandiose chair devoid of its demon. However, after a better look, you noticed that he was inside, just not how you expected him to be. The Prideful Lucifer was crumpled on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was just a scattered mess on the floor.

The heart in your chest nearly stopped, your mind jumping to various grisly conclusions. Somehow you managed to put the teacups aside without dropping them like one might do in a dramatic soap opera episode. The musical sting was audible in your mind. You rushed to him, moving him with a strained grunt so he was flat on his back. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him, checking for wounds. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Burning crimson cheeks flushed brightly on skin as white as a sheet. You checked his breathing. Constant, luckily, but shaky. There was a faint tremble throughout his body. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face. To say he looked terrible was an understatement.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that someone would pick up quickly. But who to call? Your mind ran through everyone you knew. Mammon? Barbatos? Diavolo? Perhaps Beel was your best bet. He was dependable. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone, and Beel was easily as strong as three of you.

You dialed Gluttony, doing your best to not bite your knuckles in worry. Each echoing ring felt far too long… Pick up… Pick up! “Oh, MC, you called at a good time.” The breath that came out of you was almost a gasp. “I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel- Beel! I… I came into the office and… Please come down to Lucifer’s study, I- I need your help! Lucifer- Lucifer he’s…not well.” Your voice shook, doing your best to form comprehensive words aside from the panic. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride. Even though it would be fairly obvious once Beel got here…

Beelzebub’s tone went more serious. He swallowed whatever food he had left before speaking again. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed, but not by much. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket and knelt beside Lucifer’s body. His head was lifted up with your shaking hands, letting him use your lap as a pillow. You brushed away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were certain that Lucifer would rather die than be discovered like this. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he scanned back over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, Belphie is taking a nap, Asmo’s out, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. It didn’t matter how long you had been around him, any time Beel was able to show of just how strong he was, it left you in awe. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?” Beel asked. For a second, you blinked in a stupor before you quickly nodded, bolting as fast as your feet would take you up the stairs towards the second floor to his grand master bedroom.

Careful of potential eyes, you looked around for anyone before opening the door. As Beel said, you could hear Mammon and Levi going at it, but they were a few rooms away. You invited yourself inside, leaving the entrance open just a crack so Beel could easily come right in. Now to prep Lucifer’s bed. It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like eternity- but was realistically only a few minutes- both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” you asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel’s mouth tightened. It was obvious he was worried, but he shook his head. “We… can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You stood there, jaw open, not able to fully process the words. “’We can’t?’ W-What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“It’s sort of an unspoken rule… If Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “I- but- we can’t- That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard! If it were someone else, Lucifer would have everything covered as soon as possible!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Belphie away… and to make sure Diavolo doesn’t find out. He tends to be a worrier.” Beel explained. He shrugged, glancing over at his brother for a moment as he thought. “I’ll go keep watch over this room. Maybe if you take care of him, he won’t be as upset. Please…take care of him MC.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something as he stress ate.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you returned to the room, you froze. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. A relived sigh released all the built up tension in your lungs. “Oh, thank Diavolo… Lucifer, are you okay?” His head swung around at you, eyes a bit wide. He didn’t notice you had entered. “MC… what’re you doing in here? I--” He cut himself off in shock as you placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on his nightstand. You got the rag damp, wringing out the excess.

“Do you not remember?” you asked him, raising a hand to put the rag against his face. Embarrassed and clearly overwhelmed, he swatted your touch away and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing! There’s no need for it.” He scowled, but his dry lips were a bit poutier than he intended. “I don’t know what’s gotten you to believe you needed to come in my room, but I don’t remember inviting you. It’s about time you took your leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they normally did when he was upset. They just sounded tired. Strained. You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was clearly lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two fully ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after.

You’d defied him before and hadn’t died yet. Sure there had been close calls, but… what was going against him one more time going to do? “I’m not leaving," you told him.

Lucifer disapproved. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter. A few more red splotches showed up on his face… “Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Sometimes stubbornness needed to be met with more stubbornness. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. Seeing him like this was torture… although there was something about seeing Pride be humbled that gave him further access to your heart. He wasn’t some untouchable distant concept. He was a person who got sick sometimes, just like you. Once more, you ran your hand through his hair, tender fingers rubbing at the pressure points on his scalp. Even him just being this close made you hot. He was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer… And I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to ask, I’ll do the begging, just please let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his face hidden. For a second, he motioned as if he was going to push you away… but he pulled you closer, his grip on your clothes getting tighter. Acceptance… You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. His throat cleared as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was clear he had a lot to say, but he kept everything to himself. Lucifer’s eyes wandered, looking at everything in his room except for you. Slowly, you reached towards his neck, taking the stuffy tie off of him. Kneeling down, you removed his dress shoes, tucking them aside. He loosened a few of his own buttons, already looking a little better without so many unnecessary layers. Finally, you took both his hands in your own, feeling the curves of his palms before stripping his hands of their gloves. When he got back inside his bed he turned away from you. Sulking and feeling thoroughly defeated probably. Flustered, if you could allow yourself to think so. You tried hard not to smile. He would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

With a hand on his shoulder, you urged him to lie on his back. Once he begrudgingly did, you pulled the blankets up to his neck and had the rag in hand again. You ran the cool fabric across his cheeks before folding it up and settling it across his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. And not one of his cursed ones. You placed it on the player, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to keep him up. It started with a soft piece, something calm and hauntingly beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down from cherry to coral- in other words, just a touch. However, it was enough to make you feel less antsy at his condition. You had been so close to contacting Diavolo, but now it seemed as if you didn’t need to. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into you. A soothed hum left his throat. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before. “Please…don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words. You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. A shiver ran through his body and it was hard to tell if it was from your touch or from the fever.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.” He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh, he seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

Lucifer recovered fairly quickly. What had left lesser demons bedridden for a week or so only had the eldest brother recovering for a handful of days. Now, he had done his best to keep himself isolated, but once his siblings eventually learned how bad off he had been- despite your best efforts to keep it a secret- they all came in on their own time to check on him. At the end of the day, even if they often had each other by the throat, they cared for each other deeply. You had to wonder if the extra unexpected TLC was part of what got Lucifer back up on his feet so rapidly.

Mammon was in and out of Luci’s room pretty frequently. Despite yours and Pride’s warnings, he was determined to do his duty as second in line and take care of his sibling. So, no one was all too surprised when Greed fell ill not even a single day after Lucifer was symptomless. But, what did catch everyone off guard was that Mammon was not the only one who got suddenly sick. Out of every other brother, Satan was also next to fall ill to the Devil’s Cold. Lucifer commented proudly that Wrath had been excellent in his service, bringing him specially crafted potions to lesson pain and bringing him up special meals to restore his vigor. All was revealed much to Satan’s dismay. Apparently it was meant to be a secret. He tried to twist it into some sort of reverse psychology prank, but everyone knew Satan was acting out of worry. So, a proper deed was returned in kind, Lucifer looking after the both of them to the best of his abilities. Such a doting older sibling through and through. Although, despite the rare opportunity to have Lucifer wait on them hand-and-foot, Mammon and Satan were both acting strangely difficult. Satan’s denial of Lucifer’s fussing made more sense, strained relationship and all, but Mammon’s sudden cold stubbornness was rather uncharacteristic. So, while the eldest was busy finishing the two extra workloads of Student Council business, he asked that you check up on the second-eldest.

You eagerly agreed. For not only was Mammon being reserved towards his siblings, but also towards you… It was a sensation you weren’t used to, him being so close to you and all. This would be a good excuse to see him. Approaching his room, you knocked on his door, pressing your ear against the expensive looking wood only to hear a groan from inside. It wasn’t what you would define as a dismissive groan, so you let yourself in. Overhead completely off, extra light from his displays all dimmed, you were left stumbling around in darkness for the light switch. Once you flicked it on, the pained moan you heard before returned, albeit louder this time. Seemed he was sensitive to light at the moment. You bit your bottom lip and flicked his light back off, opting to use the glow from the screen of your D.D.D. instead.

The faint light gave you enough vision to spot giant lump under the covers of his bed. Not a single part of Mammon’s body was exposed. He was all bundled in a ball. You came over, a nice hot drink in your hands in a shiny golden-colored mug. Lucifer had told you that the concoction was good for demons, and among that one of Mammon’s favorites. To you, it just smelled like cinnamon and milk.

You gently pressed your hand over the bed lump, shaking it slightly as you announced your presence with a soft voice. “Mammon, it’s me… Lucifer sent me. I have something for you.”

The blob of blankets shifted, little chirps of discomfort making their way to your ears. He scuttled away from you at first, the blanket pulled tighter around him. It required several minutes of coaxing for him to come out. The covers fell away as he finally sat up in bed, hair sticking up every which way. His black tank-top was sticking tight to his torso, his face devoid of the normal vibrancy it usually held. Not only that, but it seemed the exhaustion had him stuck halfway between his demon and human form. His body marks were present across his body, but they were very translucent. His horns were absent from his head, but you could see his wings tucked against his back. His nails were the sharpness of talons. Normally, his eyes shined at you, little flecks of gold floating in the seas of blue. Now his color was dulled. But at the sight of you, a bit of him perked up. You were a much needed presence. Even if he talked up a big game over text about ‘not needing to see you’, at the end of the day, having you at his side was what he wanted most of all. You could read from his expression that he regretted not having you come in sooner.

You held out the drink for him, and he reached for it with shaking hands. Worried he’d spill it, you cupped your own hands around his, giving him the added support as he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking mini sips while giving himself breaks to breathe in-between. You frowned… He was barely able to hold and consume his own drink. When he was done drinking it, you put the half-empty mug aside on his nightstand.

“Th-ank you, huma-hu… MC,” he croaked, his eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He let his hand dangle over the side of his bed, his fingers almost grazing the floor. Your heart ached seeing him in this position… but you secretly had to admit, he was being awfully cute. His tsundere nature was gone, you only wished he didn’t need to be this far gone to be sweet with you. You ran a hand through his crazed hair. A little greasy. He would need to wash up. You’d let Lucifer handle that one. Mammon turned his head slightly, just enough to see you with one eye cracked open. You saw it glisten with tears for a split second before he turned back into his pillow. Lucifer was probably caring in his own demanding way, but you wanted to bet he’d never been treated like this before.

You shook your head a bit at that thought and went about rummaging though his clothes to find a cleaner outfit for him to wear. Lucifer could help him get changed out of those sweaty things later. You folded up a suitable replacement and placed it on his couch, pushing aside empty shopping bags. Then you sat beside Mammon on the mattress, reaching for the rag Lucifer had brought to him earlier. Mammon must’ve been tossing and turning for a while, seeing as it was at the end of his pillow case, threatening to fall to the floor. You dipped it in the bowl of cool water that was left on the nightstand, feeling the feverish warmth dissolve out of it.

“Mammon…Mammon, turn your head,” you asked. He raised up his dangling arm to reach for the covers…and pulled the fabric over his body with a huff. You had been wrong, apparently. There was still a twinge of tsundere left in him. It was comforting, at least, knowing that he still was the embarrassed little demon with that playful attitude you adored. You covered up a small smile with your hand. “Mammon, please. Pretty please? Pretty please with Grimm on top?” You pleaded with him, leaning on him with your own body till he squirmed under your pressure.

“Oi…” he croaked. “Fine…” He shuffled around under his sheets before showing just the upper part of his head, his gaze plastered on anything other than your face. You tried hard not to chuckle, you really did. He was being so stubborn about this. You placed the cool rag on his forehead and heard him sigh. You used a finger to pull down his blankets so you could see his features. You cupped his chin to move his head and guide his gaze towards yours. You stroked his cheek and watched a twinge of color return to his cheeks as he blushed.

“Do you need anything else, Mammon?” You asked him gently. It was a bold move to ask Greed what he wanted. You could only begin to imagine what he’d ask for. Cold cash? A new pair of shoes? A car? At the moment though, you didn’t care what he asked, you’d get it for him if it was within your power…and your budget.

To your surprise, he frowned at the thought of being pampered, apparently. He licked his cracked lips and shook his head. “N-Nah…you can…go.” Had hell frozen over? Was this why Lucifer had asked you to check on him? Was he so miserable right now, he couldn’t even turn to his sin? Or was there something more to it?

“Mammon… you’re not being greedy by letting me help you. I can grab you whatever you think you need. Hell, I’d go fishing in Lucifer’s wallet if I thought it would make you feel better.”

The second-born tried to laugh a little but just ended up coughing. After he wrestled control over his own lungs, he blinked a little, thinking. “Can I…have some water, maybe?” He talked as if this was a new sensation, as if he had never coveted anything in his life.

“Of course. Anything else?” If you managed to poke and prod a little more of his sin to come out, you’d feel a little better.

“I…don’t know…” Poor Mammon seemed pretty out of it, like he was dangerously close to falling asleep, but being forced awake by the sheer discomfort in his body. If you could help him out, he might stop tossing and turning.

“Okay,” you nodded, a little idea illuminating in the back of your mind. If he couldn’t be greedy, you’d be greedy for him. “I’ll be right back with a few things, okay?” His fingers snagged onto the end of your sleeve, upset at the thought of letting you go, but his hand dropped back to the bed. With an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, you left his room.

A quick text was sent to the other residents of the House, requiring a quick meeting in the common-room. You tried hard not to pace as you waited for each brother to trickle in, a curious look on all their faces. Lucifer showed up last, his arms folded but appearing more concerned than frustrated. “I’m assuming this has to do with Mammon,” the eldest chimed in before anything was said.

“Exactly.” Turning your head, you gave each brother a determined look before setting your plan in action. “We’re all putting together a Get-Well-Basket for Mammon!”

A sleepy voice raised a little. “Huh?… A Get-Well-Basket?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you know, like a little assortment of gifts to show someone you care. It doesn’t have to be much, but just grab things you think would make him feel better! Oh, and he likes words of affirmation, so you all have to write a nice note!” A few of them tried to groan, but you were hearing none of it. “Go on! Right now! The master of your pact demands you! Don’t make me use ‘stay’.” The grumbles turned into quick agreements as the able-bodied set off in their quest to prepare their brother a basket. You hurried off to your own room, grabbing an open Akuzon box off your floor, a set of pens and a stack of sticky-notes off your desk. Then you looked around for something to give your precious demon of Greed. A lot of the things you owned… had been bought by him. You guessed you hadn’t realized till now how much he bought things for you. He deserved some nice things back… Not wanting to leave Mammon waiting too much longer, you snagged a nice pair of socks and a crystal you’d bought at a nearby magic shop. They got thrown in the box as you went back to the common-room.

A few other brothers were already there by the time you returned. Pleased with them, you set the box on a nearby coffee-table and handed each of them a pen and a note. “Now, your little letters. Make them nice or I’ll force you do them again!”

Dramatic huffs and puffs were made for the show of things, but they all seemed to really think about something nice to say. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Beel wondered aloud, speaking as he recently entered the room. Different eyes flickered down to the floor. Seems they all were wondering the same thing but none of them knew how to say it.

“Not the best,” you admitted, taking a few of the brother’s gifts and settling them in the reused box. “Which is why I thought this little pick-me-up would do him some good.” The rest of the demons fell silent, finishing their notes and attaching them to their gifts.

“Tell him- Tell him I said to feel better,” Levi sighed, giving you a little wave before returning to his bedroom.

“Yeah! Tell him that if he misses out going to that party with me next week, I won’t ever forgive him!” Asmo’s eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, kissing his note before putting it with his gift. The other siblings had similar sentiments, their well-wishes eventually compiled into one box. You found yourself smiling. This would help for sure. With the box and the water he originally asked for in hand, you returned to his room.

Mammon was sitting up again when you came back, his knees tucked against his chest, his finger tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his blanket. The soft light coming from a book lamp on his nightstand helped you keep from tripping on the floor. When you walked in through the door, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile. His eyes took turns observing you and the curious box in your arms. “Wha’s that?” he wondered, his words slurred slightly.

“It’s for you.” In a few steps, you were back at his side, giving him the water first for him to drink before settling the Get-Well-Basket at his feet. “From me and all your brothers. To make you feel better.”

It was clear he was confused for a good while. “For…me?” But then, that little glimmer in his eyes returned as he started to rummage through the box. He read a few of the notes, scoffing and tossing most of them aside. Whatever they all had wrote had clearly touched him and made him embarrassed. It seemed as if this idea of yours was a success.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

The demon of greed had to think deeply again before putting the box of gifts on the ground near his bed. He sighed a little, letting his legs leave his chest and go flat under the covers. Mammon hesitated before holding his hand out. “Y…Yo…” Even if he hadn’t fully said it, it was clear what he wanted in his time of need. You.

Something in your chest squeezed. You took Mammon’s hand and pulled him towards you, embracing him in a hug. His weary head rested on your shoulder, his shoulders relaxing, the tension leaving his body as your hand found it’s way between the joints of his wings. “You didn’t have to ask. I’m here whenever you need me. It’s not selfish to want someone by your side when you don’t feel well. And I want to be here...with you.” You could hear his little gasp as you held him, his breathing eventually becoming slower, calmer. With you at his side, he finally had enough peace of mind to relax. “Get some sleep if you can… everybody is waiting for you to get better…”

Mammon was now well on the mend thanks to your efforts. Sprung up like quite the spring chicken with you doting on him. He got his energy back faster than Lucifer did, but his symptoms lingered longer. It was rather amusing actually. Hard to steal stuff while your sniffles give away your location sneaking through the halls. Although, even with two counts of demon-caretaking under your belt and a self-proclaimed gift of healing, you had yet to check up on Wrath. Not to say you didn’t want to, you just… couldn’t. Banned, in fact. Deterred by Lucifer himself. But you just wanted to help. Lucifer was constantly busy, not to mention that his knowledgeable yet vengeful younger brother was expending all his strength that he should’ve used to recover busting the house to pieces in several fever-fueled rampages. It had seemed like the logical choice, and rarely did Lucifer prevent you from keeping an eye on his brothers. So why now of all times?

“He’s being…unreasonable,” was Lucifer’s answer. Out of all the possible reasons, this seemed among the most pathetic. A rearranged ‘because I said so’ with some vagueness sprinkled in. Disappointing.

“If I remember correctly, you were also pretty unreasonable,” you stated, trying to hold back a smirk steadily curling across your lips. He just scowled, glaring you up and down, trying to decide if he abhorred your backtalk or found it endearing. He leaned back in his cushy seat in his study, placing down his much too expensive pen by the pile of work he needed to finish by tonight. Another lecture on getting better rest tickled the back of your throat, tempting you. Recovered or not, he needed to give his body proper sleep lest he fall into another bout of sickness…

“And if I remember correctly, we agreed it would not be discussed again.” His sharp expression softened just a touch, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks as he recalled how you took care of him in his weakened state. Before he thought about it too hard, he cleared his throat. Staggering hairs were brushed away from his forehead as he folded his arms in front of his chest. It heaved in a sigh. “His body and mind have been considerably weakened, therefore he has little to no control over his anger. He is Wrath, and I shudder to think what may befall you should you try to talk to him right now.” He peered deep into your eyes, taking note of your unwavering stance and stern composition. “And yet I suspect you’re going to go see him anyway.”

Bingo. Your hobby of thrusting yourself into dangerous situations formed another greying hair on Lucifer’s head. With a look equal parts exhaustion and worry, Pride lifted his hand and snapped his gloved fingers. Something in the house shifted. The magical lock placed on Satan’s room was broken for you. Although, Lucifer had to go over some rules, ensuring that, at the very least, Beel would be just outside should anything happen. You were to be whisked out of there at the first trace of danger.

The demon’s door was right in front of you now, and for a second you hesitated. You took a deep breath, clutching to your chest some medicine and a hardcover book from the human world containing old fables. Knowing him, he’d probably read it already, but it was worth a try. You knocked on the door, glancing a look at Beel before loudly stating your presence to the inhabitant of the room. Pushing the door open, you were pleased to find that so far you were unharmed, which was admittedly a great first step.

However, you quickly found yourself awash in a sea of books. A mess in Satan’s room was pretty normal. But this… was on a new scale. Honestly, you were almost impressed. Books and scrolls were haphazardly stacked, covering the floor, basically everywhere. You couldn’t even see his bed, it was hidden somewhere in this labyrinth of tomes. You held your breath, not even daring to breathe for fear everything around you would come tumbling down. The last thing you wanted was to be crushed to death. If the books didn’t kill you, you had a wary feeling Satan might for disturbing his ‘organized library’. So, you carefully weaved your way through slender passageways in the piles before you found, what you assumed, was Satan’s bed.

The reason you could only ‘assume’ is because at this juncture in time it hardly looked like a bed at all. Just a quick glance and it would’ve blended in with any other heap in this room. It was camouflaged with more books, torn pages, binders, pamphlets, a few cat figures, dioramas, etc.. Self reminder to check to see if there were any shows on demon-hoarders in the Devildom…

A jagged green-tipped tail dangled from beneath the bed-pile. It twitched and flicked, sending some novels skidding across the floor. You inhaled deep through your nose.

“Satan? It’s me.”

Satan’s tail whipped across the space between you and the bed. It struck one of the impossibly high stacks of books, sending it teetering and tottering threateningly before it crashed down. If you hadn’t taken a few steps back, you would’ve been one with that pile… You huffed to yourself. Rude… You wanted to help him and this was how he was treating you?

“Satan, please.” A book whizzed past your head and you winced, the sting of a little paper-cut blooming across your cheek. The air in the room was suddenly noticeably hot. You knew these were demons. You knew they were capable of destroying you in seconds, but that didn’t stop your stubborn nature from feeling absolutely offended. And so, as if you had a death wish, you scolded him. “Satan!” You strutted over, throwing the covers back and sending even more clutter to the floor, but at least you could look at him. But a part of you wished you couldn’t.

Teeth were bared as his mouth formed a menacing scowl. Hair was messy and untamed. His eyes were glowing an unnatural green, a lens behind his irises reflecting back at you like a creature in the shadows. A deep resonant rumble emanated from his chest. He looked absolutely feral, but it wasn’t till he pressed himself into the corner of his bed and the wall, knees close to his chest, that you put your fear beside yourself. Yes, at first glance you may have been entirely convinced he was going to tear your throat out, but then you ran your gaze over him a few times… His face was covered in patches of crimson. He was only wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and stripped boxers covered in kittens wearing top-hats. There was a sheet of paper skewered onto one of his horns, and he now was curled up protectively against the wall in a little ball. He was scared.

“Get out,” he demanded. It would’ve been threatening sounding if his lungs didn’t sound as if he swallowed a squeaky toy. He was wheezing, fingertips shaking, his tail protectively curled up against his legs, the tip of it quivering.

To be honest… you wouldn’t leave this room right now for all the Grimm in the Devildom. “I’ll leave after I’m done helping you out a bit,” you assured him, but he didn’t want that answer.

“Get out! Out, out, out!” He clutched another book in his hand and chucked it in your direction with a shout, this time missing you by a mile. You blinked. Was he…having a meltdown?

“Satan, throwing stuff at me isn’t going to make me leave any faster, so cooperate and I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.” You smiled softly at him. Wrath had no retort nor nearby ammo left, so he tucked his face into his knees, letting you get to work. It would take you hours to clean the room, but you did what you could for the moment, tidying up at least the chaos surrounding his bed. How he would’ve slept with that mess on him was beyond your understanding. Or maybe that was one of the reasons why he was being so cranky. Books aren’t exactly great nest material.

You shook off his blankets, puffed up his pillow, and then took a hesitant scan at the medicine you’d put on his nightstand. Lucifer had told you where to get it. Supposedly a powerful medication that tasted as bad as the one taking it felt. It was also administered as a liquid, because for all their power, demons hadn’t made capsules a widespread thing yet. You had no idea how you were going to get Satan to take it.

Maybe being sweet first. “Satan,” you cooed, sitting yourself beside him on the bed while he remained curled up in a tight angry ball. “I have some medicin-“

“No.”

Figures, you were reaching with that one. Maybe begging? “Satan, please, please, please, pleaaaaase take-“

“Bite me.”

You scoffed aloud. He was absolutely, without a doubt, being a brat. On par with Belphie right now. You took a moment to recall how you convinced Lucifer and Mammon. Lucifer was only won over when you stood your ground and told him what to do for a change, challenging his pride. Mammon, you went out of your way to get him things, stoking his greed. With wrath…did you? Time to indulge in a little more sin.

“Satan, I swear to the Father above and Diavolo below, if you don’t quit fighting against me when I’m trying to help you, I’m going to shove this entire freaking thing down your throat till it’s the only thing you can taste for decades!” You raised your voice, shouting at him with a fury in your chest you’d never used before, ever. Especially not against Satan. But, against all odds, you were alive, and instead of smoke coming out of his ears, Satan looked up at you from behind messy bangs. Shocked beyond belief, his mouth slightly ajar, he uncurled himself from his position and sat up slowly, his head looking down.

“Tch.” He puffed air through his teeth, giving in finally. Your attempt, while perhaps mediocre without any demonic snarling and mysterious fog, was successful. You hummed to yourself in glee, taking the cap off the bottle and pouring in the medicine. It smelled God-awful, and you felt sympathy for him, but if it was going to make him feel better, he needed it. You held it up to his lips. He growled in frustration but then parted his mouth to let you pour in the foul mixture.

Already pale skin turned even ashier as the glop slid down past the lump in his throat. He looked like he was going to be sick. He slumped his posture and began to release shuddering coughs that nearly turned to gags. You instinctively put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down along the ridge of his spine. Once he was done with the episode, he sat back up, swaying in his seat back and forth until you held onto him, gently bringing him back down onto his pillow. You moved the hair out of his eyes and sighed in relief. Thanks to whatever magic Devildom medicine had, his redness had already gone drastically down, and he looked fairly calm for now. Mellowed out. Some strong stuff…

His eyelids couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or shut, struggling to fight sleep. “Rest,” you whispered, getting up off his bed, pulling the covers tighter around him, urging him to go to bed. After you helped him, then you would leave him alone, that’s what you promised… even if you desperately wanted to stay. With a little turn, you picked up the book you had brought with you. He grabbed your wrist before you could even attempt to leave. A tilt of the head, and he sleepily read the cover before letting his hand drop back onto the mattress.

“I bought that…for you,” he mumbled. With a grin, you nodded. He had bought it for you during the adventure to London. It was filled with old fairytales and fables, the authentic gruesome kind, not the kind human kids grew up on. Both had their perks in his mind, but Satan seemed particularly fond of the ones that broke free from the stagnant ‘happily ever after’.

“I brought it here for you to read, but you need sleep. Besides you have plenty of other books here…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for his horn that still had the paper stuck to it. You yanked it free with a light chuckle.

“But…” He wanted to argue, but had no energy left to. “Will you…” Satan started, gripping at his own sheets so tight you thought he would rip holes in them. “Read…to me?” Your heart soared so fast you almost went lightheaded. You sat back down on his bed, fussing over him just a bit more, fixing his messy hair. He groaned as you did but let you do it anyway.

“Of course! I’ll read for you whenever, Satan. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You…” He almost sounded frustrated, like he couldn’t comprehend how you could be so kind especially after the mood he was just in. Then he settled as you flipped the book open to the first page, recounting terribly sad events with a terribly soft voice. Every so often he’d correct you if you fumbled on a word, or correct the inaccuracies of the story itself, but eventually he went to sleep. His eyeballs moved frantically under his eyelids as he slept. His voice would squeak out some incomprehensible word while he dreamt, his fingers twitching in random increments. You noted that his tail that was draped off the side of the bed was now gently curled against your leg. His demonic appendage was rough, sharp in some places, and yet you could hardly feel it with the way he was holding you now. He was comfortable around you.

You used the stray paper that had been on his head as a bookmark, placing the book back on his nightstand for later. “I guess they all get to live happy ever after this time,” you whispered to him in his unconscious state before you pressed the back of your hand against his cheek. Your knuckles tickled his jawline, making his face twitch closer to your hand. “Sweet dreams, Satan. Feel better.”

Lucifer and Mammon were now considered fully healthy and back on their feet with Satan not too far behind them. For a few days, there was hope that the worst was over. It wouldn’t spread any further. The sound of sniffles and the scent of disinfectant wipes would finally dwindle. But, whenever you hope too hard, things always seem to go in the opposite direction. Hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning, and not too long after Satan had finally returned to the table. The twins had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for. Sleeping in and skipping the morning was his whole shtick. His brothers were usually more concerned when Sloth did show up for breakfast. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

Putting your fork down, you offered to go check on them. After all, morning breakfast was not the same without the two of them. Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You had wanted to protest, but Lucifer was nothing if not the voice of reason. He was right. You had seen Beel’s hunger-driven rampages before. Demonic destruction wasn’t something to sneeze at- no pun intended. Plus, Lucifer was their brother first-and-foremost whilst you were still just some human that had the luxury of living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch Lucifer had given you had won you over to his words. You could trust him to handle this one… He ambled away from the table, and with a few long steps, exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining, clearly disturbed. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Everyone’s are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise with a raised hand. He held it up for a moment before his arm dropped into his lap. Another loud crash sounded from above, Satan’s eyelid twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a sob and went to leave the room, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he touched the doorknob.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To take a nice hot sanitizing shower!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and pirouetted right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No… No! No, no, no, I’m sick, I knew it! Of course it would be me! I’m gross and miserable and… do you know how long it takes to fully clean a keyboard?!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse. It was difficult to tell just from audio alone who Lucifer was wrangling. Maybe both Beel and Belphie at once?… Normally, Satan would work on figuring the little mystery out, but it seemed as if he’d met his limit already. People were fist-fighting, two people were having meltdowns, and it was only breakfast. The intellectual usually had no problem going to classes, enjoyed them more than others actually, and yet the look on his face screamed truancy. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room,” Satan reasoned.

“I told you all, I think he snuck into my room a little while back! One of my figures was moved! I bet Mammon got his sticky fingers over everything! He gave me the cold!”

Add accusations onto the daily list. They all might end up going though their daily atrocities before lunch today. Now the only three brothers left at the table were verbally sparring, one tense word away from physically— You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. You thought too soon. Unfortunately, this sort of scenario happened often. So, you excused yourself, knowing none of them were listening, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. The dish struck against the wall a few inches from you, luckily not shattering. It clattered to the floor as a waffle slowly slid downwards. While you were still unharmed and food-free, you left the dining room. After wandering the halls trying to find a safe and silent place, you sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway. You’d just wait for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” you sighed. --

Lucifer confirmed it. Beel and Belphie…both of them had caught the cold, and the eldest had spent the past hour or so attempting to force them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, and you shuddered a bit to think about the sort of tactics he employed, but when all was said and done, he had taken the time to seek you out. It was clear to you that even with all his power and prowess…he was exhausted. With Beel’s physical power and Belphie’s cunning, it seems even Pride had broken a bit of a sweat. There was still plenty of Student Council catchup to be done too… and now he had the twin’s work to start on. He needed a helping hand, and while he didn’t express it bluntly, he did ask for your assistance.

Apparently they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you or the house apart. Lucifer still addressed you with a bit of concern. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this.” On one hand, he appreciated the work you had done. On the other… “I’m concerned for your health. Diavolo was fairly confident you couldn’t get infected, but we still don’t know for certain…” His voice drifted, slightly disappointed in himself, feeling like there was more he should be doing. “Regardless, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, you were sure you were immune. You’d been in direct contact with nearly all of them and hadn’t so much as sneezed. Lucifer wasn’t entirely convinced, obviously mentally preparing for the worst of outcomes, but he let you do what you needed to do. And that was taking care of the two youngest.

Homemade soup; the medicine for the soul or so people said. Something comforting and filling yet easy for the stomach. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most soothing meal you had ever made. Two steaming bowls were settled on an elegant silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You carefully balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly tapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. Unlike the other brothers you had cared for so far, someone actually opened the door for you for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy and slightly reddened. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. Heat radiated off of him in nauseating droves. If you had thought the other brothers had burnt up, nothing compared to Beel’s temperature. Even just standing beside him made you dizzy. As if hellfire was roaring through his veins. His shirt stuck to the skin around his torso, sweat beading down his forehead. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “Soup!” You exclaimed quietly, feeling a mite proud of what you’d created. “You never came down for breakfast so…” You must be hungry, you kept the last part to yourself.

He frowned deeply, being rather dismissive. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body confirmed that there was indeed a lump in Belphie’s bed. Many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, his arm raised to shut the door. Your attention snapped away from Belphie, back to the demon at hand. Was he shutting you out? Really? He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. Your leg served as a quick wedge, feeling your knee temporarily painfully pressed between door and frame. As soon as he realized he was hurting you, the door was thrown back open.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day! How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, trying to convey the care and worry you held for him through your eyes. Beel always advocated for taking care of your body. Those words you shared were the ones he had used on you once before. He was somehow always aware of what you had eaten and when. Same for his brothers. Sure, his sin might take over and he might accidentally eat your food, but he still determined to make sure everyone he cared for was well fed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. His normally sturdy legs wobbled as he stumbled a bit, gripping the end of the door-frame for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull. It broke your heart. Beel seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and proper sustenance on the other side of the door. Curse this tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms and make him feel protected and cared for… even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place. You didn’t happen to eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, did you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face. The contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little? I… made it for both of you.”

It wasn’t often you attempted to employ the puppy-eyed look. However, it seemed necessary in this instance. All these demons were weak to you, and you knew it. You could only hope it was enough this time… Beel was stuck having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. If he wanted to eat or not… Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. If this was what he wanted, could you really change his mind? Just as you were about to leave, the door was pulled back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. Crossing the room, you waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. As he nodded, you settled by his hip, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first. He was hesitant, but it was clear he was starving. His sin was tearing him up inside. He was only prolonging the pain. “Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Gluttony couldn’t quite find the words to describe what he was feeling. But you understood well enough. You’d been sick before in your life. You knew what it was like to feel the hunger pains alongside the nausea. Eating made you feel worse. Not eating made you feel like hell. He must be miserable. This was probably a rare feeling for him.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, your hand coming up to rub his shoulder.

After taking a minute to mentally prepare, he took your advice to heart, starting with a simple spoonful. He blew away the steam and took the smallest bite- or slurp- you’d ever seen him have. He chewed on some of the softened vegetables before swallowing. There was no need to ask how it was. His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s…so delicious. May I…eat it?”

You chuckled, grinning with relief as a little bit of color came back to his face, his expression not looking so pained. Sounded like he was already breathing easier too. “Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up sleeping for days on end like he’d been known to do a few times before… With one of the twins looking already worlds better with some warm food in his stomach, you went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll be your personal chef till you feel better.”

With a contented sigh, Beel buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room. Relaxed lungs brought in deep even breaths. He was still ridiculously hot, but not unbearably so anymore. His words devolved into sleepy mumbles. “You’re so much better than any food in the world…”

The twins were sick, Lucifer was working himself ragged, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like…well…like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them…all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is the Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside.

Eternal moonlight had it perks, but being able to tell time was never one of them. What hour was it now? Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and while you did promise to be his personal chef, it was beginning to overwhelm you. Not only chef, but you’d been hired in several other new ‘departments’. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. The librarian and storyteller for the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. The beauty product tester and fashion assistant for Asmo who refused to let any of his brothers touch him with a ten foot pole. The lawyer for Mammon who was apparently determined to get himself into trouble more so than not lately. And also Lucifer’s new temp secretary. You had so many reminders set on your phone for things he needed to get done. But the eldest was determined not to let things fall apart just because a few of his brothers were ill.

Should you be getting paid for this?…

Tired feet were dragged across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you; a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Laying down felt nice… Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already, the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some specific answer explaining why your body hurt in places you didn’t even know existed, you wouldn’t be able to. This would probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. —-

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body struggled to navigate the obstacles of this place. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. Lips moved as you could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. No matter how hard you squeezed your lungs, no sound came out. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to reel in reality, to settle yourself back into your senses, the dream drifting far behind you now. A squeak sounded. A harsh squealing grind of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. It left a strange feeling in your teeth and pumped your mind with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, the alarm for danger blaring on high alert.

It was hard to see through all the darkness. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The only thing you could see with your adjusting vision was a shadow creeping around your room. It staggered. Drifting around as if searching for something, a deep inhuman growl rumbling through it’s disfigured body. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. Was it hunting for something?…

A few options for survival bubbled up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart decision. One loud noise, and the creature would more than likely beeline it straight for you. Besides, with the demon brother’s sporadic schedules, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. Your room was all the way down near the kitchen…your roommates blissfully asleep upstairs. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause an instant game over. However, that did remind you to lean over to put your device on silent. You would not be that stupid survivor in the horror trope that got killed due to a notification. Oh, if only you had given in to Lucifer’s odd request to install some sort of security system. You had denied it. Said it sounded more like a baby monitor than anything else. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, just as blinded as you were in the darkness. Maybe you could make a run for it… it seemed rather sluggish. But assuming things could get you killed. But what other options did you have?… Right now, the thing was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had. It was settled. You’d book it out of here and run to someone else’s room… Just look for an opportunity… The wailing mass was getting closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was rattling harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! Heat was waving off the creature and onto you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, wandering without a purpose. You quietly swung your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, writhing, it’s shape melting away before a humanoid hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O…w…”

The familiar voice washed over you in a refreshing shower of familiarity. You pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. Although you didn’t waste too much time before rushing to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. The shell it had shed felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” You nearly went off on him, ready to spend the rest of the night giving him a Lucifer-style lecture. But, too tired to do something like that, you simply wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. Eyes rolled in your head, embarrassed and annoyed by your own paranoia and stupidity. Although that sort of paranoia had let you live in the Devildom thus far. That and a ridiculous amount of luck… Though if the other brothers found out you mistook Belphie and a puffy duvet for some sort of lumbering undead slug-monster, they would never let you live it down. Speaking of which…you suddenly remembered that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. Before they could claim another victim, you snagged your shoes and tucked them away in a not so trippable place. Then you returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, although as you did, you nearly reeled back. Sloth was burning up.

“…anna…o…ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. Chipped nails clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy and infernal temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you had tried tugging off of him was somehow twisted around his limbs. After turning him on his back, you worked on unraveling him, feeling his hands paw at your body. He was deep in some fever dream, one bad scene away from thrashing… Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith…Beel…”

Might as well have heard your own heart crack right then, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Once you could see, you went right to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were grateful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. Panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, lips so dry they were nearly bloody. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you returned to his vicinity, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He contorted and attempted to roll as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead, keeping him against the ground using your own body. In only a few seconds, the cloth was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe…Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Soothe, wipe, cool. Over and over as the fire in him refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? Were you just making things worse? You fought with yourself and your emotions for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. It seemed as if he broke though the worst all in a second. Belphie’s breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, wearily and weakly.

“Ahh…haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M…C…”

Overjoyed tears stung your eyes. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t quite awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him, tilting his head back with the brace of one of your hands. Thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. To keep from falling over, he leaned his body against you. It was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately, your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. A sigh left his shallow lungs.

With what little energy he had left, he practically clawed himself towards the far side of the bed turning in several agonizing increments to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. There was still a mess on the floor… but you left it where it was as long as the universe was done sending demons tumbling through your room. You rushed over to the light switch and turned the brightness off. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, taking him into your arms and feeling him immediately get comfortable. At least he was no longer boiling. He was a little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. With a few sleepy nudges, he had his head tucked under your chin. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back, and in return, he squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, leaving you winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s Sin or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

Normalcy slowly began to trickle back into the House of Lamentation. The twins were feeling better, most everyone was returning to classes, routines were falling back into place. Everyone was finally convinced this was all over. Even Lucifer, who liked to account for the worst, was acting rather optimistic lately. Although you yourself, who had loved soaking up every sickly cuddle and embarrassing (and rather blackmailable) favors, was secretly a bit disappointed. It was great that they were all doing better! But…perhaps part of you liked feeling needed.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan, were all well past this illness, and with Levi and Asmo doing everything they could to avoid their siblings, it was assumed that this misadventure had burnt itself out with the twins. Although, one person in the household was determined not to let this go. Levi was doing his best to convince everyone that he was extremely ill.

“I searched my symptoms on SpiderWeb MD! If I’m not sick I’ve been cursed and I only have a few days left to live!” he would complain. His siblings were all convinced that Envy had caught nothing but a terrible case of hypochondria. At one point, he’d even sent his last will through the group chat should he perish an untimely demise. A lot of his stuff went to you, which was deeply touching considering he had a hard enough time letting you look at his stuff much less touch it. Music records would go to Lucifer, manga to Satan, cosplay outfits to Asmo, his special snacks to Beel, and his body pillows to Belphie. Nothing was left for Mammon, which caused a small riot in itself.

It had been several days since anyone had seen or heard any trace of Levi. Everything he needed could be ordered on Akuzon, and he’d been taking classes exclusively online. It got to the point where everyone had been certain he’d never leave his room again. Of course, the eldest had checked on his little brother regardless, but he’d been written off with a clean bill of health. After that, Lucifer had been convinced he was just craving attention. Levi would hole himself away over the vaguest sign of symptoms and not come out till he was ready. No one believed him. For a while, they had you convinced as well, assuring you that he hadn’t been sick for centuries. There was nothing to be worried about. However, you still carried that worry with you, that infuriating kind of angelic trust that drove the brothers crazy. But ‘what if’, you wondered, what if he’s sitting in his room right now with no one to help him?

The only semblance of interaction you’d had with Levi in the past week was dropping off his Akuzon packages to the front of his door. You’d knock, be forced to ramble off an impossibly confusing password, and then leave for him to drag his packages inside. The first time you’d done it, you’d waited, only to watch him pop his head meekly out the door. Upon seeing you, he squeaked and promptly slammed the door shut. Now he would wait for you to fully depart before grabbing his loot. But today, you were determined to see him. Sure he was a demon, sure everyone had promised he was fine, but something left you uneasy. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was okay.

Making your way down the hall, continuously shifting your arms to keep things balanced, you approached Levi’s room with several packages in hand. The number of items he purchased was getting larger and more concerning with each delivery. Seeing as your hands were occupied, you gently kicked his door three times with the tip of your shoe. You crouched down low near the floor, placing his items neatly in a pile. Stiffly, you uttered the strange password Levi encouraged you to memorize to confirm the drop-off and assure him there was no one else in sight.

“The water dragon, caretaker of the mystic lakes, looks up to the heavens…” You paused, waiting for his response. A few seconds. Then a minute. You couldn’t help but raise a brow as a little jolt went through your chest with worry. Typically by now, Levi would be in the middle of his segment of the password. This all was routine. Taking a few steps forward, you pressed your ears to the cold wood of his door. All was silent. From the top? You walked a few steps away just to round the door again, making your footsteps heavier, louder. Then you attempted the entire process again. Using your fist this time, you knocked loudly against the entrance to his fortress of solitude. Uttering the incantation once more, you found yourself almost shouting the code phrase. There was still no response.

Throwing caution to the wind, you gave yourself access into his room. You winced once the light from inside hit your face, expecting some sort of curse or hex to flood your body. Air soothed your lungs when you discovered you were relatively unharmed. It didn’t require any amount of searching to locate the demon. Curled up, in demon form…at the bottom of his fish tank. Of course, you knew these people were not quite people, but that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping and your human brain to somersault over itself in panic. That wasn’t normal! You stammered over your words, dashing forward to press your palms against the glass.

“Levi! What the-” You cut yourself off as you looked around for anything that could assist you with this…emergency. Underwater! He was underwater!

How many times have you been scolded for acting before thinking? Too many to count, especially down here where the wrong misstep could kill you easily. Did you still end up jumping into the fish tank? Yes. Yes, you did. Using Levi’s desk and shelves, you climbed up, throwing your body into the water. It wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be based on how chilly Levi kept his room. It was a bit nippy, but nothing terrible. You sunk down, grabbing the horns sticking from Levi’s head. God, how were you going to pull him out of here? This tank was the size of his wall! As soon as you began to tug on the horns, Levi’s eyes snapped open. His tail wrapped around your waist once he recognized your face. You ended up getting flung out of the tank, dangling in the air a few inches above the ground as the chill of the oxygen on your wet skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Levi gripped the edge of the glass.

“What?! I-I- that was totally- MC! I can’t believe-” He settled you to the ground as he climbed his way out of the water, almost slipping and falling from the tank. A large pool formed on the floor beneath your feet. As he tried to find his words, gasping in shock at finding you in Henry 2.0’s tank, he started coughing. He bowled over, his arm covering his mouth as his lungs squeaked and wheezed as he seemed to cough uncontrollably. Levi’s chest began convulsing so painfully, tears started speckling from his eyes, only to get swept up into the moisture already streaming down his face. His tail, still around your body, clutched to you tighter, like an involuntary form of comfort for him.

“Levi…” You approached the demon of Envy, both of you dripping wet, and you pressed your forehead to his. Despite having soaked in water for however long he had been in there, he was burning. His little gasp at your form of contact drove him further into his coughing fit. You apologetically rubbed his back, helping him catch his breath while you scrambled around to get dry clothes, nearly losing your footing on the wet tile.

“Don’t!” He pleaded with you as you pulled open his drawers.

“You need dry clothes, you’ll get even sicker if you’re soaking!” His face started to flush as some color came to his cheeks. He had yet to relinquish his tail from around your person, wrapping around you tightly like the firm squeeze of a hug, following you around like a drenched puppy. “Why in the world were you in the fish tank anyway?!” A proper scolding was in order. After all, how ridiculous had that been? “I was worried you’d drowned…” You muttered that last part to yourself as you plucked out a t-shirt with the decal on the front from some anime you couldn’t recall. A random pair of shorts was added to the mix, throwing the dry outfit to him alongside a much needed towel. Clutching the articles of clothing to his chest, he blushed even harder. The muscles of his tail forced you to turn with your face to the wall as you felt the soft scales finally slink away. You could hear him stumble around as he struggled to get himself dressed. He wasn’t acting like normal.

At that moment, all the guilt that had been building up these past few days washed over you. He really had been sick after all. How long had he been here alone, taking care of himself because no one would believe him enough to take care of him? But Lucifer had said he’d been checked… Did he get sick after that? Or was there something someone missed? Although, the when didn’t quite matter now. No chance fretting too much over something you couldn’t change. You had the chance to help him now.

“I was hot…” Levi answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then next time hop in the bath! Don’t go scuba diving in a fish tank! A fish tank, Levi!”

It was as if you could feel him wincing at your firm words. It wasn’t often you raised your voice at them. Envy wasn’t taking the tone too well, shuddering as he inhaled broken quivering breaths. He didn’t have an answer for you on why he made the decision he did. Rationalization probably went out of his mind once the fever set in. Had he really been that hell-bent on not leaving his room? “You can…look now.” Turning away from the wall, you found yourself tutting. Levi had put the clothes over his wet form, the towel simply lying on top of his head, the horns holding it comically up away from his body.

“…I should’ve been here to help you.” You placed your hands over the dry cloth, getting it away from his branching horns, gently rubbing into his skin. Too weak to shoo you away or say anything about it, he simply covered his face with his hands as you used the towel to dry him off. “But I’m here now…and you don’t have to worry as long as I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” You started with his hair, working your way down to his arms. Your gentle motions, your soft tone, your overall comfort, it was enough to weaken his walls of anxiety. A few steps and he was right next to you. He slumped, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. Your skin was still cool from the water, and he sighed as his forehead came into contact with it. His tail ended up curling around you once more, clutching your torso tightly as he gripped onto your clothes. “Come on,” you urged him, leading him over to his bedding. It was better than the fish tank only by a small margin, containing a ton of pillows and several plush blankets to act as a cushion inside. At least it was dry…

“Sorry…” Levi gasped, as he lifted himself into his nest. The tickle of his word turned into more harsh coughs. You leaned over the porcelain walls of the tub to pet his head. He nearly melted into your hands. He curled up, nestling further into the cushions as you pulled a blanket partially over him.

“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you, I should’ve been by your side by square one. That’s what people who care about you do…” You gave him a sweet smile as he teared up a little, pulling a body pillow close to his chest as he covered his face. He simply gave you a hum in response. “I’ll go get some medicine and bring in those packages for you, and then I’ll be right back.” Taking a step back, you felt the tail wrapped around your body gripping you tighter. “Levi,” you cooed, petting the smooth scales with your hand. “I’ll be right back, let me go.” He reluctantly complied, silently pulling his tail into the tub with him, curling around his own body for support. Running your fingers through your still wet hair, you went back out to the hall, dragging Levi’s packages into his room before setting off to grab some medicine. A quick sneeze shuttered your body, leaving you lightheaded as you leaned against the wall to keep yourself upright. A chill ran through your spine. Shaking your head, you picked up the pace to your bedroom to change into warm and dry clothes.

As soon as you were no longer dripping, you grabbed the medicine bottle from off the table in your room. Collectively, the household had almost gone through the entire container, leaving only a few servings left. You bit your lip and then briskly headed back to Levi. In the short amount of time you’d been gone, it seemed as if he already drifted off to sleep. You shut the door behind you as softly as you could manage, then came over to the sleeping otaku. All these demons, you recalled, claimed to be so scary and intimidating, yet all of them managed to look something like this. Levi was clutching his tail, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the side of the tub. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you brushed your hand against his cheek anyway.

“Levi… Levi?” You called, watching his eyelids flitter as they slowly opened. “Here, take this, it’ll help you feel better.” You held a capful of the remedy to his lips. A flicker of stubbornness and defiance flashed in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially with how nicely you were treating him. He’d take it with a smile if you had asked him too. Placing the medicine aside, you turned down the lights in his room, watching the reflection of the water dance across the ceiling. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Levi?”

You heard him squeak before he spoke. “You cuddled with each of my brothers…”

Stifling a chuckle, you merely blinked at him. “You want me to cuddle with you?”

He used his arm to cover his eyes. “Y-you said it, not me!”

“Move over then,” you grinned, lifting your leg over the lid of the tub to make your way in. It was a bit awkward, being a bathtub and all. There wasn’t as much space as you expected. The sloped sides guided you into Levi’s body, where you could feel every muscle inside him tense. “Alright, here we go, sleep will make you feel better.” You rested your head right next to his, noses almost touching. His lip twitched in embarrassment, but once more he pressed his forehead against your neck, exhaling deeply as he allowed his body to relax. “There you go…” You rubbed his back as he got in close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. Apparently regular doses of constant attention was the best kind of medicine for a touch-starved demon. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough. Sometimes he would do this and cause the other previous afflicted to do the same. You’d even caught Lucifer clearing his throat in your vicinity once. They were all milking this to the last drop. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone… Even cases in the Devildom were dropping. The whispers at RAD were returning to normal discussions. The worst was over.

That was… until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, hair on your arms standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned.

“MC…” The eldest instinctively took a step towards you. “Oh, thank Diavolo,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, quelling the stress headache, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” He began the head check, ushering his brothers closer to him much like a teacher making sure the whole class was there for the field trip. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your throat shut, forgetting how to properly breathe as the group sprinted down the halls.

Mammon was the first to reach the door, throwing all caution to the wind as he immediately kicked the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, coming clean off it’s hinges, and you attempted to peer in. A firm hand grabbed you by the back of the collar and yanked you back. Lucifer pulled you behind his body. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Every square inch of you was desperate to scream, to run to Greed, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head. There were no visible injuries, in fact, he was barely even bothered, just frustrated.

“For the love of... Asmo!” The second brother growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens once every few centuries, and every time it happens, it gets—“ Something else broke to pieces, shrapnel embedding itself in the door-frame. A mess. “Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame to shield you out while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound.

“C-come on, it’s best if we go…N-now. Like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me…you all did this to me!” Ah, right. Of course the blame would lie with the most recently infected. And now you were standing right next to the target.

“Oi!”

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of Levi’s grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest. You felt the frantic beating of his heart. Everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, razor sharp claws atoms away from brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy. The glimmer you so often associated with Asmo was gone.

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor.

--

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, there was a list of misadventures you could bring to the table, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Good call. Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. Perfectly on beat. A living pendulum.

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to…critique your…survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Real rich coming from Wrath. Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers.

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

“…Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning. It all still felt like a dream. They couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak… But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just…reached out to him…

Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded six different ways. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the bratty youngest sibling was chastising you. And Mammon…Mammon was…dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most.

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.”

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “Heartbroken?! That scream meant nothin’! He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that…almost hurting you because he doesn’t look photo-ready… Nothing’s worth getting yourself killed over! Nothing!” Mammon’s words… sunk in the deepest. Or his tone did at least. He was truly upset with you. Lucifer raised his arm a bit towards Mammon, signaling to settle down. Mammon scoffed and turned again, letting it go.

“Okay… I get it… but enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers.

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure after the last few weeks he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand.

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.”

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said everything I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway.

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. They might not listen to you at the moment, but you had to try. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The fiery-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?”

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.”

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. Demonic bodies could reach some serious temperatures.

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Although you didn’t want to push your luck too much. They could physically remove you from the room if they so desired. Luckily, Belphie was much too tired to continue bickering.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his twin following after him with Levi in tow.

A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?”

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it.

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet.

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea.

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I can’t see a single thing, I swear. Not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no… No, no, no, it’s okay.”

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I- I- I- I’m sick and- and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick…but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!”

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same.”

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both…am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly.

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working. Double the dose meant double the drowsiness, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs.

“It’s not…fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t…deserve this…I wish I was…as beautiful…as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep.

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do.

“I tried warning them fallen angels or not, they were still in the demographic to get sick.” Solomon sighed wistfully, but the whole time he never lost his smile. As you recounted your encounters over the last few weeks, the sorcerer giggled. “What I wouldn’t give to see some of those scenes.”

The angel across the little table from you had to agree, although he looked a lot more sympathetic to the brother’s plight than the human did. “I’m really glad they’re all feeling better though. I bet you’re enjoying your newfound freedom, aren’t you, MC?”

You settled down the mug against the tabletop, sitting back in your chair, basking in the ambiance of Purgatory Hall. The House of Lamentation really had been come to feel like your home, but a change of pace was so refreshing at times. The angel’s dorm was so much brighter, quieter. No shouting, no nagging, no chaos. You could sip on a warm beverage in peace. “It’s nice knowing they all feel better,” you stated, having to admit to yourself that your termination of demon-nurse was doing you some good. Retirement life was nice. “No more worries.”

Both men agreed, Simeon pleasantly humming to himself. “Still, you could’ve asked us to help out. I bet it was difficult looking after all of them.”

“Can’t be much different than usual, can it?” Solomon interjected, laughing to himself.

They both were right. But, it’s not like you had hated it. You all felt…closer now. They had allowed you to see a part of themselves no one else got to see. That made you feel special. But being able to kick your feet up and get some much needed sleep was what your doctor ordered. You picked your mug back up and finished the last of your drink. The warmth of it spread throughout your body, seeping down to your toes and fingertips.

When Simeon noticed your cup was empty, he stood, holding his hand out. “Here I can take that for you.” You didn’t really want to impose, but you were the guest, and it did feel nice being taken care of today. They’d pampered you nicely. Taking your jacket at the door, leading you to the living room where you were given sweets and treats handmade by Luke and Simeon. You got more comfortable on the couch and gave the angel a thankful nod. Simeon turned away from you and Solomon, his steps halted as a high-pitched squeak filled the room. “Oh, sorry.”

Your head tilted a bit. “Sorry for what?” Had he stepped on a loose floorboard?

Solomon held himself back a bit before clapping in a bit of glee. He seemed endlessly entertained. “Doesn’t Simeon have the most petite sneeze? Bless you.”

Simeon looked back over his shoulder, actually looking a bit embarrassed over it. “It’s quite a normal sneeze thank you…” He shot his roommate a little look before leaving the room. You watched him go, a sensation of familiarity bubbling up to your mind. This felt… no, it couldn’t be. You were over-thinking things. There was absolutely no way it was happening again. Nope. You would refuse fate itself. Simeon took good care of himself. You couldn’t assume every sneeze was a sign of illness.

There was no one left to get sick. The story was over! The series had come to an end! All wrapped up in a pretty bow and everything!

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Beta Reading, Workshopping, and Peer Editing for Indie Writers: a Guide

Beta reading is a term you might hear tossed out as a vague buzzword, kind of like how people talk about "character development" and "worldbuilding"; I've made a bunch of posts to demystify words in that latter category, but beta reading is a different type of term. Where those latter words and their ilk are terms of craft, things we can discuss in theory ("this is how I think characters are developed best"), beta reading is about a novel after its first draft and first wave-ish of edits. Pretty much everything before and after the production of a novel or story is purely up to what works best for the writer, so this post will introduce beta reading if it's new to you, and I'll give you my process if you want to tinker with it!

Beta reading is when interested readers work through your polished manuscript and make workshop comments so you can make an extra wave of edits. Publishing houses usually have two waves of this type of reading--alpha reading (AR) and beta reading (BR). If you can find enough people to alpha read for you (and you want alpha readers), go for it! But if you're confident in your grammar, your ability to craft a scene and characters, and the other formalities of creative writing, alpha reading isn't a requirement (as an indie. If you ever query your work to a house, it'll probably go through alpha reading).

Alpha reading is to catch grammar and syntax slips, mischaracterizations, character development that doesn't add up, excesses of adverbs and adjectives, and other craft faux-pas that the average reader wouldn't catch. Your alpha readers should pretty exclusively be other writers.

Beta reading is to gauge what your audience is thinking or feeling while they read your work. If your beta readers want to make alpha reading comments ("I don't feel like [character] would do that here"), that's A-okay, especially if you didn't have alpha readers, but that shouldn't be your chief concern with your betas. These are your audience surrogates! The job of beta readers is to tell you what they think or feel: "I like this," "I don't like this"; "This paragraph hit me hard"; "This word is confusing"; etc. If they add more words to their comments, that's A-okay ("I like this because these words go well together" or "This word is confusing--does it mean X or Y?") but not necessary! If your beta readers are your audience and not people who really get how writing works, then you should be taking any reasonings in their comments as loose, loose suggestions. Maybe those words that go well together to one reader feel, as you look at them a second time, cliche. Or perhaps the confusing nature of a word or phrase was by design. In any case, try to see your beta readers as a "live audience reaction" and not a "live reactionary critique."

One aside about alpha/beta reading: "this is bad" and "this is good" comments are toxic and should be avoided at all costs. Tell your readers to avoid these before they start writing. No good can come from these. Even "I don't like this" and "I like this" are worlds better, though still not great. But absolutely warn your readers against using objective blanket statements like "good/bad" as they read.

Now that we've laid the foundations, I'll go into my own process so hopefully everything above makes more sense.

Before I give my manuscript to beta readers, I go through 2-3 waves of revision on my own. After I finish my first draft, I wait about a month to let the dust settle, to gain at least a little emotional distance from the project so I can look at it a little more objectively. Then, I read it through, revising for content: cut this scene, add a scene here, chop paragraphs and sentences, add paragraphs and sentences, move this chapter here, make sure this character actually functions as he should in the narrative, etc. These are my macro edits.

Then I let it sit a week or two and go into line editing: punctuation and syntax, word choice, tweaking figurative language, etc. Close pruning of your work. Filing your nails after you've clipped them.

The third read-through is at a normal reading pace, as if you were a reader, to catch anything that may have slipped past during your close edits and revisions. This third read-through is likely the first time you've read your manuscript as it should be read--a book! This step, then, is a victory lap, but it's also one last troubleshoot. You might not find the errors in a computer program until you run the program. So too it is with writing.

This is a lot of work! You might want to relegate these tasks to your readers, but DO NOT!!! If you're still heavily revising and editing your work, don't let your readers to the table. This is your work and your story, and outside influence will stray it from what you want. Own this. Buckle down. Read.

Once you've got your polished draft, it's time to contact your readers! I would recommend 4-6 readers total unless you think you can handle more cooks in your kitchen at a time (I cannot). I typically just ask some of my friends to beta for me. Here's an example text:

"Hey all! I finished that book about church camp a while ago and was wondering if you'd beta read for me! Basically, I'd just need you to read through the book and make comments in the sidebar whenever you like something, don't understand something, are excited or intrigued by something, or other general impressions. You can comment however often or little you feel comfortable with--some people make one comment a chapter, others make multiple comments a page--anything works great. Really all you shouldn't comment are blanket statements of "this is bad" or "this is good," but feel free even to say stuff like "I like this" or "I don't like this." Just avoid objective language when possible.

I don't have any money for this, so sorry in advance, and if possible, I'd love for all of my beta reading to be done by the end of summer.

Let me know if you're down or not! :)"

I really have had readers comment that much and that little on my manuscripts. This is normal. If your readers are supposed to comment whenever something in their attention triggers, different readers' attentions will trigger differently.

It's also a wise idea to form your beta reading group (again, especially if you aren't doing a wave of alpha reading) as a mix of people from different backgrounds and writing experience. My church camp novel group is below:

Person A who went to church camp with me, is into poetry

Person B is into fanfiction, little church experience, mindful of social issues

Person C has little church or writing experience, mindful of social issues

Person D is very into writing, pretty into church

Person E is very into social issues and church, not a writer

I would advise to find a similar balance of people who are into your subject matter and those who aren't.

It's also helpful to give them a timeframe to read by, and make this longer than they need. I gave people ~two months for my ~60k-word novel.

Also, as a little incentive for your readers, plan something for when everyone's done! A post-beta party! Something like this will also encourage you through the process :)

Once you have your betas' comments, it's time for one last wave of revisions. Compile these comments however you like, and start tweaking. I like to have each beta's document open so I can cross-reference while I work through my own doc. And remember: these are audience comments, not writer comments (unless you explicitly brought writers on). If someone says something confuses them, that might just be their cross to bear. If none of your other betas were confused by it, or if one of your betas compliments the same section, it may be worth ignoring that first comment. Try to rule with the majority when you can, and take everything with a grain of salt. "I don't like this" doesn't mean it needs to be changed. It means you should figure out why that reader doesn't like it.

If you have any questions, my asks are open! Again, this is a pretty open concept where anything works as long as it works for you, so don't feel pressured to "get it right." But if you have any questions or suggestions, I'm all ears :)

Hope this helps!

[lenaperseveranceoxton]

It's time I let the cat out of the bag after alluding to it for too long. Since the release of Overwatch: Declassified, I've been working on an entire rewrite of Overwatch's canon. While setting it up on a Miraheze wiki, I've also been writing a story for Lena on Archive of Our Own that fleshes everything out to a highly unnecessary extent, and it has over 22,000 words so far. The story is more self-indulgent than anything, so I don't expect anyone to read it, but it's been easier to write to my heart's content and condense everything for the wiki afterward.

(If you only read the wiki, then you'd be missing out on a lot of Lemon Tea and Dad: 76 fluff and angst, as it is my rewrite, after all, but that'd be your loss.)

I have no idea when I'll make these two projects of mine public, if ever, but as of right now, I've written all the way up to the start of London Calling #2, so it might not be so far off. (This is why I was talking about Lizzy the other day!)

What I'll make public now, however, is a screenshot from the last update I made on Lena's page.

Realistically, I can't release anything until I finish writing the timeline of at least the major overarching story between Overwatch, Talon, and Null Sector. For reference, though, Mondatta died on March 15th, 2076, Zero Hour takes place in late February of 2077, and Overwatch 2's Story Missions take place in mid-April of the same year, making Lena twenty-seven in the present day. (I just really hated Overwatch 2's two-year time skip.)

The "Early Life" section I've written isn't the cleanest it could be, but I have no writing experience, and Lena being a teenager is pretty vital to their character, I'd say, so cut me some slack. The idea was that Lena would enlist in the RAF as soon as possible with forged documents and get accepted on the spot because the RAF has been struggling with a lack of interest from the public, and they would only fly the Slipstream mere months later because the RAF bribed someone from the UN to make it happen. Here, take a screenshot of something I wrote on Jack's page as a note for my plans for him, as well, to make things easier.

I liked this idea because-- you know what? Have another screenshot, this time from Archive of Our Own! Wow, I am just full of surprises today.

All right, all right. Why am I sharing all of this? Well, dear reader, I implore you to take note of when I revised Lena's wiki page. Now, imagine my reaction when I read this description from Hazard's story yesterday:

(My reaction:)

Now, imagine my shock when I saw this page:

(My shock:)

I get it isn't exactly an unheard-of trope, but SERIOUSLY?

Now, I have my Overwatch heroes I don't like all too much, but I've never had a hero I've outright hated. This guy, however? He took everything from me. He straight-up does not exist in my canon. I do not perceive him.

The Phreaks can still exist, even the members introduced in his comic because they're cool, but I guess the Oasis subplot will just never happen without Hazard. (For that, I hope it doesn't have massive ramifications on Blizzard's canon and overarching lore, or else it'll get real messy for me.)

On the bright side, I suddenly don't feel bad for completely deleting characters in my perception of Overwatch's canon. It is NOT looking good for Kiriko right now...

(EDIT: I thought my excuse for Lena making it into the RAF on the spot with forged documents was bad, but according to a thread I saw on Bluesky, Hazard joining the military to pay for his education doesn't make sense, either-- not in a pre-Omnic Crisis world, anyway. Granted, the early life I've written for Lena also accounts for the fact that these military branches went through what was practically World War III, but you guys are the official writers! You can't just leave us with that glaring issue with no explanation! That being said, after some cooling down, I'll probably keep Hazard in my canon, after all, and let him grow up with two Omnic Crisis veterans who met on the field for parents, neither of whom will die. That way, they could push him to join the military after secondary school amid their low enlistment, and he would then continue the cycle of upholding their "system" before eventually losing his limbs to an IED while raiding the hideout of some infamous criminal with ties to Talon, I guess. Once the military leaves him out to dry, he would feel like he has no choice but to deal with The Phreaks, only to realize that he's no better than them; they'd all been wronged by the system. Additionally, meeting Susannah and Revel could be a character-defining moment where he learns to respect omnickind, which he'd been taught to hate his entire life. I think Susannah deserves better than Hazard, but fine, I'll begrudgingly allow their canon relationship to persist, as well. As for Kiriko, I'll say it: her age aside, her fox powers are also ridiculous. While the powers of The Iris deserve to go unexplained, I'm pretty sure the old writers also said Zenyatta's kit is not canon. Kiriko, meanwhile, uses everything in her cinematic. Her fox shrine lets her eat as many donuts as she wants. Ugh, I hate most of Overwatch 2's heroes' writing. Maybe it's for the best that Venture doesn't have any. Don't ruin them for me, Blizzard.)

[moonshine-nightlight]

2024 Writing - Plans

similar to last year, i wanted to post a little look forward at my plans for writing this year are. the necessary disclaimer: this is 100% high level, optimistic, ideal situation and subject to change but i still like thinking about it and posting for anyone who's interested. see this post for last years!

so, i like separating things out it mini goals/sections so see below:

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: with DSM self-published under my belt, I'd like to focus on the NWWD publishing journey next! The main obstacles/costs are time and money. Hiring an editor and a cover artist are the pricey-est part of the process but my own edit (first to convert everything from 2nd POV to 3rd POV and then another high-level edit/revise once i've got it in the right POV) will take the most time and needs to be done before i hand it over to an editor. Then after the editor takes their time (and NWWD is much longer than DSM), and finally i need to process all of their edits as well. And i need to do all of this while i do my day job lol.

i've already converted the first 11 chapters to 3rd POV (i hav some IRL friends/betas who only read that version, so if u feel like the tumblr version took a lot of time lol). the timing of being able to publish this year will all end up depending on how quickly i can do all that and kick off the part of the process that depends on outside parties. Even if i manage to self-publish in this year, i don't expect it to come out until lik December and even that's ideal, super best case scenario.

Long Stories: I want to outline both A Perfectly Ordinary Research Position and Shadow Diplomacy and then pick one to be the new long story on here. I do what i call a chapter outline and a scene outline, which is confusing to not!me because the scene = a chapter on here. i should probably rename that process lol. (NWWD was 11 'chapters' and 35 'scenes' for reference).

once i pick a project, i just hope to post as many chapters as i can. Since this will be new, long, and likely just building steam, i actually think it'll be my lower priority after the Short Stories and NWWD publishing, but we'll see. i'd like to start putting that up in June, according to my tentative 2024 schedule.

Short Stories: Since i didn't get as many of these done in 2023 and they've been haunting my brain longer, i want to for sure get some of these shorter stories done. learning from last years overestimation lol, i plan to post 3 short stories: Courtship Confusion, Feral, and finish Free Piano: Haunted, in that order. i'm excited about all these stories and will let me cover 3 different types of pairings (although technically all are Reader) which is fun. All have been outlined and have parts and pieces written. I wish Feral and FPH could both happen in the fall but the timing just doesnt work out so summers gonna b a little spooky lol.

The schedule i worked out makes it so all this will be possible, but also basically has no breaks in sunday postings after my haitus which is beyond optimistic but i lik to start overly confident lol

Hiatus: this is also your reminder that my work has a specific Busy Season which honestly started already (lucky me) and i will b beyond busy Jan-March at a minimum. i hav more projects than ever with my promotion, a lot to learn, and a lot to juggle so minimum 6 day work weeks will be the name of the game - but hopefully all goes well and i'll get a nice bonus i can feed directly to my editors lol

anyway, that's where i'm at right now and I'm looking forward to all the exciting writing and publishing to come in 2024!

Feel free to send in any asks about upcoming/current stories!

Thanks again for all your support in 2023 and Happy New Year!

[equestrianequivalent]

QuintSum has been finished. What now?

Yes, you read that right. I've finished the first draft of QuintSum. I'm done. I told you, I said I would be, and I finally am! So, what now?

Well, the short answer is that I'm going to release it all on Ao3, but there's a few things to discuss related to that process, because that won't be done in a day either.

How will you release the fic?

ALSO, IMPORTANT: If you started reading before August 2024, I suggest you start over from the beginning. I have changed way more than I ever could've predicted that I would, and it shows. While you're probably going to be able to follow the story, you're probably not going to understand a Solid amount of basic knowledge the characters hold, nevertheless what each character is thinking and why, especially not how we got to this point, if you don't reread the first 28 chapters. But also I'm not your mom you can do whatever you want. But don't say I didn't warn you.

We will go 1-3 releases per remaining arc. Most arcs will be released in two halves, as you can see in the screenshot above. The short explanation is that this means there will be less releases with more chapters. (And don't let the low chapter count fool you, the wordcount goes haywire sooner than you think. The chapters currently average around 4-6k.)

There is 135 chapters in total, it would take me over a year to upload this entire thing even if I released two chapters per week. And I don't want to do that. Therefore, I will release them per arc, which is a collection of chapters about the same part of the story, pretty much. Those releases will look as follows:

Arc 5: Chapters 30-34. (One release)

Arc 6: Chapters 35-51. (Two releases)

Arc 7: Chapters 52-59. (One release) (<- Most subject to change, this bitch is a complete mess in terms of chapter length already. Stay tuned to see how I deal with that I guess!)

Arc 8: Chapters 60-84. (Three releases)

Arc 9: Chapters 85-103. (Two releases)

Arc 10: Chapters 104-109. (One release)

Arc 11: Chapters 110-116. (One release)

Arc 12: Chapters 117-135. (Two releases)

I cannot say when these will be uploaded, but this means that there will be 13 releases of new chapters.

Probably. There is always a chance that I will split up the arcs more, because, I don't know if you've noticed, but the second draft is already getting ridiculously long, and these chapters sometimes take me multiple days to get through. I'm a full-time university student currently getting a bachelors, and I'm at least planning on getting a masters going as well, sometimes I just do not have the time to write as much as I really would.

Anyways! This is how it's going to work on My end of things:

I will edit and finalize the chapters in each release, and then upload that entire batch on Ao3 together. This will take however long it may. I have no deadlines and no goals to hit. It'll be done when it's done. Then I will release a post announcing that this arc has been uploaded, with a link to the First chapter in that arc. This will repeat until we reach the last chapters. And then we're done. It is Way less complicated than it sounds, all you need to do, really, is remember that I will release things less consistently, but when I do release, believe me, you will have stuff to read.

How long is this fic?

135 chapters. And the wordcount of the first draft ended up at 280k words. It will probably be a little more on Ao3 because I always add stuff when I revise. So far I'm 100% on track to double the final draft, but don't hold me to that. I'm personally assuming it'll be somewhere between 350-450k words. All my friends think it will be longer. We'll find out who is in the right once it is done. Point is that while I never intended to set the record for the longest fic sorted by word count on Ao3, well, right now it sure is looking like I will do just that. By a lot.

What is important to keep in mind?

Read the tags. I have consistently talked on my main about how the biggest goal of QuintSum has been to "make Elizabeth's death worth it". Third-party sources would agree that I have done just that. In fact, my friends would all claim I've managed to write a by-the-books tragedy. Do with that what you will. Other than that, you can expect pretty standard things from the game. And a few near-death experiences here and there. I will say tho, remember that I rate this story T, that rating speaks louder than Most of the tags. The tags aren't lying, but the severity of it is dictated more than anything by the rating.

Anything else?

Tell @jorvikzelda that you love them because they're the entire reason that I started, nevertheless finished this fuckass fic of mine. Stay tuned for the release, boys, we fucking made it.

(If you want some sporadic updates because I can't shut up, I'm always yappin over at @shiroselia and otherwise you can find me at Ao3 as per usual)

Cheers!

[studentbyday]

my 🧠 feels like ✨cHaOs✨ and so this post will be ✨cHaOs✨

I went to the biochem Q&A sesh today

and OMG DID I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS I DID NOT EXPECT TO HAVE THAT MANY but I'm glad I attended, else it would've taken longer to get a response but now I have to revise (and by that I mean cut) a LOT from my paper and re-think how I'm doing it, if I'm doing it right or veering off topic (bc one thing when you're researching a disease new to you is that there's sm info out there and you're like 🙌🏻 EVERYTHING IS RELEVANT 🙌🏻 but no- only the biochem-related aspects of the disease are relevant for this assignment). idk how off-topic i actually am or if i'm pretty on the mark, but ngghhh tHe FiRsT dRaFt Is DuE On TuEsDaY *frantically waves arms, noodle-like* 🙌🏻 that doesn't feel like a lot of time to write the whole thing in all the detail i want so i can get useful feedback 😫

catching up on psyc notes (total ch finished this week: 2/5)

idk why but pomodoro and perky jazz music is the only thing keeping me focused for this.

fixing biochem paper

i read somewhere on here about having a document of your cuts in case you need it again later. useful advice, that. 👏🏻 also, i think what i should do first is make notes in a separate doc and THEN decide what to do with all that info...it might sound like it'll take longer but it's more efficient than writing a whole bunch and then realizing half of it is info you don't need. my stupid panicky brain couldn't realize that in the beginning (even tho that's what it had done b4 for other "essay-like" assignments) and was either stuck in analysis paralysis or just editing and re-editing, but better now than later (i haven't written THAT much beyond the intro anyway 😅)...

in other news, i got enough sleep for once bc i went to bed super early and ACTUALLY FELL ASLEEP BEFORE 12AM LIKE WHAT IS THIS MADNESS (ig i finally tired myself out enough these past few days 🤷🏻‍♀️) and despite waking up multiple times throughout the night bc i'm not used to the schedule, i am well-rested 😌 and my back is still being annoying but at least it's a little better than yesterday + i get to study while cozy in bed 🥰

[authoraemoseley]

I am very curious to know your response too so I am going to ask you the same question back!

What do you enjoy most about the revision process? Are there some things you enjoy more than others? How does the revision process compare to the initial drafting process for you, do you prefer writing a first draft or would you rather skip to editing?

Thank you! A lovely set of questions!

So I'm going to answer all of these questions in a slightly disordered way but I trust that it'll make sense. If not, feel free to send me more asks for clarification!

When I write, I typically bang it all out in one or two goes (for shorter works), or over a week, or a month or so. My current WIP is an exception as I hand wrote it as a young teen, typed it up and completed it during NaNoWriMo in my late teens and as an adult I've been world building, rewriting, adding and now finally going back and writing the book as a whole.

There's a lot of different parts and elements from a lot of different places that are all making it into this cohesive "final" draft, but I really do enjoy it! I enjoy those rapids like flow of inspiration and getting in the zone, but I also really enjoy this process.

Typically the whole editing thing for me goes

Draft hand written or typed up

Type up draft (if hand written) or print the typed draft and then type it up again into a new document. This let's me re-read the story, flesh it out, and get a new perspective. This has been so tremendously helpful for me!

Take a break from it (no, seriously, step away from the computer, self!!). This break also typically involves rambling about it to someone or another (my close friends, my family, my cat, my dog), getting new ideas and jotting them down.

Go back and re-read, print out what's typed again (I use cheap paper and always front and back especially for the longer stories), take so many notes on it, then just kind of marinate in the story. This also involves a lot of talking to my cat, dog, parents (Bless them half the time they have no idea what I'm going on about but they give helpful advice and encouragement either way!), friends, and then I go back aaaand....

Type it all up again! By this point the story is looking pretty swell, and it's close to it's final draft, if it's not already at its final draft.

I really love all of it, especially the parts where I can just take notes on my story, write all sorts of odd things and just let inspiration come at me in a new way. I think that's my favorite part, seeing how I can build upon the ideas I already had, making them stronger and more detailed. While the grammar stuff always feels like a drag during the editing process, editing beyond that is a delight for me. I get a lot of inspiration for sequels or spin-offs or new ideas altogether.

I do sometimes skip to editing like with what I'm doing with HoM. Because the book is coming from so many sources that I've written over so many years (and I've been using this as my project for school), I'm going back and re-reading a lot. This is in part to remind me what I wrote, and to help me keep the flow of the story as I go into the next part. So I'll do tweaks here and there, add in more details, fix a run on sentence, but it's more light edits.

I do jump around a lot though when drafting. If there's a scene I wanna write, I'm gonna write it and trust that I can get myself to connect it later on. When I edit I tend to go straight through the whole thing.

Thanks again for the return ask!

[tippenfunkaport]

WIPs Status Update

I am fairly confident no one cares what I am up to, but I haven't done one of these in ages so I figured I should.

In Progress Fanfic

Outlaws of the Whispering Woods

This fic is on temporary hiatus because I'm working on finishing it as part of the @wipbigbang. Participation in that event means I can't update that fic again until the posting period starts on September 8th BUT that once that posting period begins, I should have both art for the new chapter as well as regular updates through November until the fic is done which should be exciting. 

That said, there is still like 60k ish to go in that story so if it looks like I'm not going to be able to get it all done in time, I might swap it out for the Chipped Glimmer fic which has also been languishing in WIP hell because it's shorter and easier for me to get done on time. I'd prefer to use the event as a kick in the pants to finish OotWW, though, so we'll see.

Prince Glowyn the Fourth

This fic is 100% complete at last, I just have one chapter left to post and will be doing that sometime within the next week.

Going There

Just about four years after I started it, Going There is finally done as well! (Literally just finished it today!) "Done" in this case means I finally rewrote the back end and filled in the missing connecty bits I never wrote the first time so everything's written, it's just going to take me an unknown quantity of time to edit and post each of the chapters. But less time than rewriting it all took so I expect those last few updates to come fairly regularly once I get them started.

Coming Home

I have always said that I wanted to wait to continue this fic until Going There was done so now that I have finally finished it, the sequel can get my attention more regularly again. That said, with everything going on with the WIP Bang, posting the rest of Going There, running the Big Bang and posting my own Bang fic (plus, like, all the other IRL stuff i have to do this summer), I really don't anticipate getting it updated anytime before the fall at the earliest and even then who knows.

Also, because this is my last in-progress canon fic I'm not in a huge rush to get it out there, I'd rather take my time with it, so I'm fine with that timeline. It'll get updated when it gets updated.

Area First Ones

In my head, this is episodic and while i have five chapters written, I have some things I want to add in between so it's not as simple as just cleaning and posting those. So basically, this one will be one of those fics I update when I update here and there with no set timeline other than my whims.

Coming Soon!

My Big Bang fic is called Horse Girl Everyone and it's the long awaited Riding School AU! 

That one is going to be longgggg and basically never-ending and episodic (seriously, we're over 50k words and while Catradora have been circling each other for chapters Glimmer and Bow literally only just met and you KNOW how I feel about Glimbow). I was hoping to write enough in advance that I could do some kind of regular update schedule at the start but because I'm also running the Bang and having some annoying medical stuff going on, I think that's not happening.

I've written a ton in advance, don't get me wrong, I just don't see myself having time to revise it all and post weekly with everything else going on. But we'll see!

Anything else?

Well, yeah, lots of stuff but it's not fandom related so I can't tell you about it. ;-) Though maaaaybe I might have the chance for some of you to help me beta some of my original stuff in the near future if you're willing so keep an eye out for that.

I'm trying to have less things in progress at once so, though I have other fanfic projects in various states of completion, I'm purposely not going to even think about posting any other multi-chaps until GT and OotWW are done. 

One shots and shorts? Yeah, I'll be throwing those up randomly as the mood strikes, you know how I roll. I'm eyeing up the Domaystic 2024 prompts to see which ones call to me right now.

So I have other stuff planned for later but I'm not even going to tease it because we'll see how everything shakes out.

This year has actually been absolutely horrible health wise but weirdly productive writing wise so it's been a mixed bag but at least nice to get some stuff done!

[carniferous]

hi my beloved <3 standing on the door of ur bedroom while i hold questions 2, 19 and 22 in my hands as an offering <3

hi laurieeee my dear... i'm shyly opening my bedroom door... handing you my answers on a folded up piece of notebook paper where i've dotted all the i's with hearts xoxo

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

i'm actually not a really thorough planner so this doesn't happen too often but the big one i remember is how quickly jegulus got together in ibhfts... originally they were supposed to kiss and be fighting for at least an entire chapter before getting together but then regulus saw james reading the little prince and was like. I Have To Kiss Him and i was like... after that huge fit you just threw over him kissing you?? and he was like Yes. and at that point there was nothing i could do to stop him

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

ooh!! donna tartt was a pretty formative writer for me tbh cliche i know what can i say i read tsh when i was 15 and imprinted on it. more recent influences include tamsyn muir (author of the locked tomb trilogy, which i can't recommend enough), james baldwin, and tepre (this author's prose is terrifyingly evocative i can only hope to reach their levels)

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

okay this is a hard one umm

1) i have the idea

2) i think about it constantly while trying to resist the urge to write it bc i know it'll take up all my focus

3) i end up writing it

4) i revise whole scenes while keeping in mind the mood i wanted to create + any places where i can improve the flow or pacing

5) i "do" a "line edit" (meaning i read through until i say fuck it and decide the typos add character)

[leareadsheresy]

Horus Rising Part 1: The Deceived

This post contains spoilers for the The Deceived, the first part (and approximately the first half) of Horus Rising by Dan Abnett, first published as a novel on (as nearly as I can tell) April 6th, 2006. This is all material I've read years ago, so I can't provide fresh eyes on it. However, that also means I've been thinking about it for a while.

I considered doing a plot summary but I'm not going to; it was taking too long to type. So. It's immediately obvious what Abnett is doing here with the dramatic irony -- the first line of the book is "I was there when Horus slew the Emperor" and the book remarks of the Justaerin lead by Ezekyle Abaddon that they seem to be of a different, black Legion, etc. -- but I have to remember that this was published in April 2006, during Warhammer 40k 4th Edition. The Horus Heresy wouldn't be its own game until October 2012, six and a half years later. He is laying it on thick because doing a pseudo-historical book series where the whole point is you know where things will end up and the drama and tension stem from how it'll get there still feels novel; it doesn't yet feel assumed.

I do want to call to attention one specific passage, though, early in the book, that is significant to me:

"Except that for all its martial technologies, the enemy lacked one essential quality, and that quality was locked within each and every case of Mark IV power armour: the genetically enhanced flesh and blood of the Imperial Astartes. Modified, refined, post-human, the Astartes were superior to anything they had met or would ever meet."

Around the same time I first read this book I also read Guy Haley's Dark Imperium, the first version before the rewrite to bring it into line with the revised 9th edition 40k timeline. There is a similar passage early in the first edition of that book introducing Primaris Space Marines, which says clearly that the first generation Space Marines are hopelessly outclassed and made obsolete by the Primaris. Reading those two passages in close proximity made it viscerally clear that Black Library, GW's publishing arm, is ultimately all just ads for whatever miniatures they're trying to sell at the moment. This is something I'd been aware of before then, but the juxtaposition of those two passages really drove it home. (The Dark Imperium rewrite removed that passage in favor of something that says there's effectively no difference between Firstborn and Primaris anymore.)

Anyway, I'd also like to draw attention to the way Loken's squad seems to have a dedicated plasma gunner; since Heresy isn't its own game yet, Dan Abnett seems to be writing the Luna Wolves as fighting with M.41-era tactical squads. Though given that Loken is First Captain of the Tenth, you could read that as just being a command squad thing. The book also talks about Devastator Squads instead of heavy support. This isn't important but it's kind of funny, in an "Oh, of course they hadn't figured that out yet" way.

I think the book handles reasonably well that the Imperium of Man are implicitly villainous, while stepping back a bit from fully addressing it. The setup is that the 63rd expeditionary fleet arrives at 63-19 to discover a flourishing human civilization and send a peace envoy to negotiate Compliance, who the emperor of the planet has executed out of turn for saying something offensive. The fleet then sends a force of Space Marines to attack the planetary capital and decapitate the civilization's government. The locals bring up the issue of "Why couldn't you just leave us alone?" but, like, dudes you killed their diplomatic envoy out of hand; what did you think would happen? On the other hand, it's made clear that leaving them alone really wasn't an option -- even if the locals hadn't executed the visiting diplomat and had merely politely requested that the fleet leave, the options were always surrender or war, and this is being presented as A Problem… but the execution of the envoy provides moral justification of the invasion so the audience isn't forced to confront the Imperium being fully villainous right away.

Something I didn't notice when I read this the first time, but which stands out now, is that this part of the book is literally called The Deceived. I think my eyes just skimmed over that title page years ago. The subject of this part of the book is the way everyone relates to Horus, a character who does not get a point-of-view section and who's clearly flattering everyone around him at all times; everyone loves him because he seems to love and value everyone. One of the common complaints about False Gods and definitely one I felt when reading it was that it has Horus slide into treachery too quickly, but in light of specifically this section's title, I think that maybe makes me like what I remember of False Gods more? Horus is already deceiving everyone. One influence on me here is Arbiter Ian's videos where he makes the argument that the Heresy couldn't have worked if the Warmaster hadn't been at least planning for something like it as a possibility for long before the events of this book -- he was clearly moving people and materiel around for a scenario like this for decades. On my first read I think I assumed the book was being coy about it but was leaning towards Horus still being loyal at this time so his treachery would be more tragic later; on my second read, it seems like Horus is already a secret traitor and is playing everyone, which might make False Gods less jarring… but I do think makes this one somewhat less interesting. I would much rather read a book about a mostly-loyal Horus turning traitor than an already-traitor Horus setting his plan in motion. The book is trying to eat its cake and have it, too.

(I said some mean things about Horus Heresy YouTube Lore Explainers earlier, but Arbiter Ian's great, and his historiographic approach to Warhammer fiction is consistently interesting.)

I do not like the way Samus and warp daemons and Space Marine possession are handled, I think for two reasons, one substantial and one petty.

Here's the petty reason: Samus has a series of catchphrases he whispers in peoples' ears before possessing someone and murdering their friends, and some of those catchphrases are effective while others are fuckin' weaksauce. "Look out! Samus is here" is not a scary catch phrase for a daemon. "Samus will gnaw on your bones" is also pretty blunt. "Samus is the man beside you" is great understated horror, but the way his creepy whisper is structured, it starts strong and gets weaker and ends on its weakest point. It really, really diffuses the tension Abnett is trying to set up.

Here's the substantial reason: If you're going to do a book series where one of the plot points is Space Marines and Imperial civilians raised in the radical atheism of the Imperial Truth, totally convinced there's no such thing as gods or spirits or supernatural forces, first encountering daemons and warp possession and having their view of the universe shattered, it is no good to set it when someone higher up can immediately show up and go "Oh yeah we totally know about those already but it's a secret; don't tell anyone daemons are real, also, this is just like those other times you fought possessed people who just happened not to be space marines, remember?" And granted it's Horus who provides that explanation but it's too obvious -- if he's jerking Loken around, he should have been able to present an alternate take on things that both left Loken more reassured while leaving the audience wondering whether Horus knows more than he's saying or not, instead of just immediately telling the truth in a way that reassures us the Astartes aren't actually facing an outside context problem, don't worry, we've totes got context for this. Like, the book sets up a really interesting source of drama and immediately diffuses it, like Samus's whispered chat in macrocosm. And that kinda relates to what I said above about Horus already being a secret traitor: This is the wrong point in the Heresy to start the Heresy novel series. A better version of this story would have had Samus's possession of Xayver Jubal be a more jarring, less explicable event, with Samus himself being creepier, and set Horus himself earlier along on his development towards treason.

That said, the Horus Heresy wasn't originally planned to be a 64-volume series. GW originally greenlit three books: Horus Rising, False Gods, and Galaxy in Flames. In light of that it's clear why they jumped right into Horus's, uh, heresy. But the book is shooting for two different goals and falling just short of each.

(There's also the arguable issue that it's hard for warp fuckery to be a truly outside-context problem for the Astartes, given how much warp fuckery they had to face up against during the Unification Wars, but you could even use that -- if the Unification Wars were two hundred plus years ago and knowledge of warp fuckery had been suppressed in the name of the Imperial Truth, then ancient stories of Astartes fighting things like this coming up in the wake of Samus's massacre could be a way to establish the horror of the situation. Later on the book goes into the warrior lodges, secret societies where Space Marines are encourated to speak freely to each other outside the boundaries of rank and regulation -- the book could have had old stories of daemonic possession come out there, while being suppressed outside of the lodge meetings.)

Anyway those are my thoughts on Horus Rising Part 1: The Deceived. Subsequent entries to this blog will probably be shorter than this. This took a long time to compose.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How do you name a story your working on?

Like mine is MW2 AU with a bunch of different parts. The problem is that each part is like a different aesthetic.

Hey! This question actually got me thinking about how I manage to title things, lol, but I think I have a good enough answer. Let's use my Cult of Vagabonds series as an example since you're making a series/group of fics as well.

Well, to begin, I came up with the overarching title by thinking over what the plot would even be about - I find it's important to lay out themes and a few turning points before you start writing.

Cult of Vagabonds is about: Grief, anger, loyalty, but above all it's about loneliness and a sense of separation/displacement.

Thinking over those words I got to thinking about a way that would describe that - 'vagabonds' means "a person who wanders from place to place without a home or job." The part that really stood out to me was 'wanders' and I knew the Reader would be doing quite a lot of that not only in the literal sense but metaphorically as well.

So, I used that for the latter half of the title. As you can probably already tell there's a lot of research that goes into my naming of titles, lol. Really it's a lot of identifying themes. What is the core of the story about? What word fits with that? How can you convey that theme effectively in a few descriptive words?

From then I looked at the inner conflict that affects not only the Reader but Gaz as well. Both have their reservations about key points in the story: Reader, the presence of Gaz as a whole, and Gaz, the situation he's been put into without his team. Both are displaced/feeling separated. Thus, a small group of individuals - Cult.

The Cult in Cult of Vagabonds is a bit looser than Vagabonds, but the other definition of the word I chose to use was "...a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing."

Entirely, the title means 'A misplaced admiration for being separated' - the earlier bit is more directed to the Reader's own struggles, but, I think you get the point, lmao.

Overall for titles, I look at the core points of what I'm writing and it can take a while to figure that out. I usually leave titles for last because after I'm done writing and jump back for editing I can pick up on hidden plot points pretty well. I think that could help you out a lot!

You can look back at the aesthetic of your fics and draw feelings from them - name those feelings and you can sometimes even use that!

For my Soap Fic - Right Person, - I knew that the MC was going to die from the beginning. I also knew that if she hadn't kicked the bucket she and Soap would have gotten together. It was what people call a 'right person, wrong time' situation and I only understood that as I re-read it. From then I made that the official title and made revisions.

It's okay to put a placeholder title as well - just what you're trying to push across before you start writing. You can always change it when you finish and I find that can help when you're really pushing for a particular theme/feeling right off the bat.

Like, I could come up with, let's say, His Dancing Phantom, and I already have a feeling that something is going to go wrong in the fic since the name is essentially, 'his dancing ghost.'

My titles usually hold descriptive words, if that helps you too. Reveries, gossamer, wistful, laughing, overflow, etc.

Looking up a list of descriptive words or synonyms of something you want to convey works for me, so maybe it'll work for you too!

I really hope this helped, Love, and if you have any other questions I'd be happy to answer!

[goombasa]

Writer's Block Sucks

So this is going to be an interesting experience, writing a blog post about writer's block while suffering from some level of writer's block, but hey, maybe it'll help.

I think one of the things I hate most about Writer's Block is the fact that it's a fairly nebulous descriptor. Yes, it basically describes the phenomenon where someone who writes, or wants to write, just cannot bring themselves to do so. But the cause(s) of said block can be… anything really. And it can last for any amount of time. I've had times where writer's block has lasted for only a few hours because I just couldn't find a decent adjective to describe whatever scene I was writing at the time, while some days I just sit down at my computer and nothing wants to spill out of my mind for no particular  reason, and then that state can continue onward for an untold amount of time. I think most writers have had at least one major stint of writer's block where you couldn't even look at your manuscript for, like, a month.

It can be even more aggressive too, lasting upwards of multiple months or even years, and there isn't really a catch-all cure for it, because the causes can be so different. Emotional states can kill your enthusiasm for a story, you can easily end up distracting yourself if you're the sort who suffers from AD(H)D or some forms of autism, and sometimes imposter syndrome will just take hold and not let go, preventing you from doing anything creative.

Sometimes the ideas just don't come. Sometimes they do, but you can't articulate them. Sometimes they're there, but you just don't have the energy. Not every form of writer's block is due to any verifiable external services. Sometimes you just don't feel it and sometimes life just sucks.

There's also the fact that writer's block can take other forms. The one that everyone's familiar with is the one where you just can't really write anything, you can't sit down and bang out anything at all. But I think one of the more insidious ones, one that I find myself suffering from more often, is one where I can write, but everything I write doesn't feel like it's my best. I've already had issues with cutting myself slack in the past, and so I'm prone to the idea of just tossing something out or stopping working on it entirely because I have trouble saying to myself, ‘eh, it's good enough.' For the longest time, it needs to be perfect the first go-round, and as you can imagine, that leads to a lot of wasted potential when I inevitably sit down to edit or revise a piece I've been working on, I get a decent amount into it, and then I just get frustrated because I have so much difficulty changing things that I know need to be changed.

Now, I can't offer solutions that work for everyone, as just like writing itself, I believe that everyone has their own way of going about it, but something that has helped me immensely, at least when it comes to that second sort of writer's block, is writing this blog. I don't know if y'all have noticed, but this blog and the posts I make aren't super deeply thought out, and their length and quality varies wildly from week to week, and the reason for that is because most of them are just stream-of-consciousness talking points about whatever topic happens to pique my interest that week. It's fast and loose and mostly going off of opinion (though I try my best not to state anything has a hard fact if I can help it unless I'm sure that it is; my last intention is to spread any sort of misinformation), and isn't meant to be any sort of deep statement on anything. It's basically just me doing what blogs were used for way back when, just sharing the odd, random thoughts that I have from week to week. The fact that it isn't anything that's really planned out or deeply researched, beyond the surface facts that I need when discussing certain things, I basically just sit down and bang out a post in an afternoon.

It's the furthest thing from fine writing you could imagine, but it is something that I wrote, from beginning to end, and while it's not amazing, it is something that I can take pride in. I get my thoughts down on paper, in a sloppy way, but I let it spill out onto the page, and it allows me to write. And that's what keeps me motivated. Because even if I have difficulty working on a more formal project that I have going at the time, the fact that I can still write something at all, I think, is an accomplishment. It keeps me from getting rusty, and keeps my creative juices flowing.

I can't say that this will help everyone who suffers from this, but my own way of treating it is… just to write. Writer's block, for me, often keeps me from working on specific things, usually my more serious attempts at storytelling, but just sitting down and banging out something quick and short, and non-committal, even if it isn't anything I plan on sharing with others or showing to anyone. My cure for my own writer's block is just to write, force out something small, keep myself in practice, and weirdly it works. It makes it so much easier to return to things that I consider to be much more in-depth projects and manuscripts. You can no doubt tell that this post is pretty scattered and doesn't have a lot of cohesion, and that's basically the point; it's a post meant to share thoughts and feelings and get something down on paper, keep my skills sharp, and hopefully start a conversation with those reading this.

And speaking of, I would love to hear what you all have to say. How do you deal with writer's block, and how often do you suffer from it? What sort of projects do you find it affecting the most? Let me know, I'm eager to hear more thoughts on this.

[anorc-writing]

Hehe. Old story descriptions.

Once these lurked in my fanfiction.net profile.

'Not with a half-blood!': Now (Amazingly) over seven hundred and fifteen thousand hits. Hooray!

My take on a post-war Harry and Daphne betrothal, but without magical contracts, ancient betrothal contracts or... Harry being unable to get out of it. Daphne Greengrass at a ministry party tells that famous half-blood about her immanent engagement and marriage to the new head of the house of Black, Draco Malfoy. Harry is confused. (Spoilers: Harry has a saving people thing, a terrible upbringing and spent seven years at war.) (Double spoiler: Fleur Weasley doesn't like Ginny Weasley much) (Triple spoiler: Harry does things and sometimes it turns out good. Sometimes not so good.) The story is intentionally slow-paced, in a naturalistic take on what a story is. You may not like it. Or you may love it, it's rather polarising.

*My editor is editing this for spelling and punctuation. (Should help)*

*I have a revised text, where I've added in Harry's thoughts, because apparently people can't read between the lines. I may be uploading this alternate version. The working title for it is "Not with a halfblood for people that don't read good." To be honest, it's hard to spell out what Harry's thinking and still keep the tone I want in the story.*

(I've seen some quite public, extremely critical comments about this story. As uploaded, it does need line editing, but I like to think that for the money, it's very good value for money entertainment. And my editor is editing, so it'll be all updated by .. probably .. September 1st.)

The Sequel "The Curious Incident of the Trip to the Seaside" is under way also completed. It contains disaster, bad luck and terrible injuries. And a side order of legal troubles. Oh, and (spoilers) Harry and Daphne loving each other. https://archiveofourown.org/works/43202524/chapters/108585235

A third novel in the series, "But I wanted a Pony!" arrived one day.

Minerva McGonnagal would not recommend it. Firenze is very annoyed. The Destroyer comes, rending the veil. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50075527/chapters/126449407

"Fireworks" is my first fic uploaded to the internet. It's not my best work. There is a sequel to Fireworks, "Harry Potter and the rise of the Black Rod" -- which is currently being worked on, Also complete. I wrote a lot of Fireworks on holiday on what was the abandoned estate of a "French Baron". I'm going back, 'and this time it's personal.' Fireworks as a text started out as an experiment in 3rd person objective with everyone's thoughts opaque. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I went back and changed it to be more like proper Harry Potter. JKR. uses "speech" said Ron "more speech" ; I did not notice till I reread Deathly Hallows.

While I was writing Fireworks I had several exciting computer problems, including the program I was using to write it with shuffling scenes randomly. Needless to say, I don't use that program any longer. Links are in my ao3 or ffn accounts.

Ashes in your mouth Yet another Harry after the war story. Fireworks took a turn for the cashed-up Harry Potter with seven surnames. This story instead has Harry Potter, with some modest inheritance, a job as an Auror and issues to work through. Including goblins who hate him, back taxes, unpaid bills and the love of a good woman. Once he smooths over those arguments with Ginny. (Spoilers: Harry has annoyed the goblins of Gringotts, has PTSD, but he's not alone. In having PTSD, anyway.) Less money, more problems, and a hint of Harry having real mental problems. Kind of a respin. Fireworks redeux, sorta. It goes different places. https://archiveofourown.org/works/39086295/chapters/97776888

Harry Potter and the Method of Double-tap, and Harry Potter and the Unwanted Marriage Contract

For Harry Potter and the Unwanted Marriage Contract I did four! different flavors of the same story, because it amuses me. Maybe you'll like it too. Don't take it too seriously.. except maybe the message that niceness beats being horrible. And that a fritatta is a good breakfast. I'm rewriting this due to forgetting the impact of Tonks & Andromeda. *I May have abandoned the rewrite.*

And "Harry Potter takes things into his own hands: an alternate second chapter for Harry Potter and the method of Double-Tap, where Harry attempts to 'solve his problems' and falls in unrequited love with a witch instead. Features Harry, his trusty gun, an invisibility cloak and a cursed marriage contract. More bad behavior than is suitable to be read by anyone. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13934551/1/Harry-Pottter-takes-things-into-his-own-hands

Ride-Along: Post Hogwarts immediately after the end of the war. Because Harry always wanted to be an Auror, be Ginny's boyfriend and call his son Albus Severus. Quite a sad story. (Needs line editing, and depicts PTSD. Some people really like it.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/36209560/chapters/90262342

Hedwig's Choice: If you give a valentines day card to a snowy owl that is 100% attitude, you might not get to chose who she delivers it to. Saying 'The Prettiest girl in Hogwarts' is just opening a can of worms. And Hedwig likes worms. And bacon. And sausages. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13698121/1/Hedwig-s-Choice

Find the Lady. Where Harry Potter leans some practical life skills before Hogwarts... with three cups, a coin and some Street Theater patter. An one-shot made from short scenes between Harry's adventures where he takes a break from being Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived with kung-fu grip, Emerald eyes and mysterious prophecy. Underage substance abuse and an (intermittently) very bad Harry Potter. Maybe the bit in Cursed child where he breaks up two marriages isn't so out of character, if you knew the man behind the myth. This Harry Potter may contain a bit more Crank, Trainspotting and Cursed Child than normal. I blame cousin Dudley, and the book on Street Theater Harry bought aged ten. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13759496/1/Find-The-Lady

When Harry Met Daphne: Harry Potter. Wannabe-auror. Ron Weasley, Wannabe-auror. Hermione Granger, reformer of magical creatures laws. Daphne Greengrass... wants to go shopping and has nothing to do with those three. Character deaths. A detective story... sort of. Weirdly even has a happy ending. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13647450/1/When-Harry-met-Daphne

Yes, Minister:A collection of vignettes set in the double-Tap universe. Like... small shorts. Short shorts, if you will. (The Simpsons did it first) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13885554/1/Yes-Minister

How badly could this go: There was a challenge about being a self-insert (SI) into Harry Potter, trying to make things better, and accidentally making things worse. "What's the worst that could happen" turns out to be my favorite phrase. It's written in the first person, which will put people off. A SI redo fic with try, die, repeat. https://archiveofourown.org/works/36206152/chapters/90252628

Strangely, not only have I started on a sequel (Old and Tired), there's a sequel to the sequel. (Readers, ask yourself, should you write a sequel when you're not done writing book 2? No.)

Harry Potter meets Death: Lets take the very end of Deathly Hallows and play a game. Bonus points to realize just what Death's game is. Not metaphorically, that's just being death. Harry's going to use his intuition. Yeah. He's gonna get badly injured. Also, a diverging plot complete with a psychopomp and it's voluntary. Chapter nine is kicking my arse. Ten's kinda done.

[ruelknudson]

Slow start

Day three.

Well, day 2 was kind of a bust, but I had already expected that. While I am writing as a full-time job, there is a bit of flexibility in it. I knew yesterday, and the next few days, will have no progress. Before I put my notice in with my employee, I had 12/19 as well as 12/21-12/22 requested off. I have personal days, just like anyone else.

As far as "the job" is concerned, Monday was very productive. Only a single page written in a 9-hour workday. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Well, there is a business side to this as well. Reactivating social media accounts and updating my website took up the first two hours. I have about an hour a day allotted to social media. I might take it each day; I may do a couple of hours here and there.

The rest of the day was reviewing the current rewrite. The first draft of this current piece was finished about ten months ago. Since then, I have been treading water on the rewrite. I may get into the nuts and bolts of "my process" in another post. But, for now, consider it loosely defined like this:

Basic Outline.

Vomit out a first draft. Ignore being good, and just get the important parts nailed down. It'll be sloppy, and barely worth calling writing, but it is the foundation.

First rewrite: do the writing. This is the mechanical part of it. Make it good.

Second Rewrite: Self-editing of content. I.e. trim the fat.

Third - Fifth Rewrite(s): Grammar, spelling, structure, themes all get a final review. These are usually very fast. I usually need a few of these. As this blog will attest, my grammar and spelling are terrible.

Send to the editor. Thank God for editors. By the way, they're always right. Ignore them when you absolutely have to. I will limit myself to one "I'm not changing that" per story.

Revise based on editor notes.

Final editor pass. Be prepared to justify the thing you kept which your editor said to change. Smile broadly when the editor doesn't tell you to remove it the second time.

Release.

Number 3 is the longest, and most arduous step for me. However, this is where the book starts to actually resemble something worth reading. I am about 40% of the way through this rewrite, but I had to reread all of the previous work. This reflects how unfocused the process had been while I was working full-time on my previous day job.

This draft is still a mess. Luckily the core themes are properly worked out, and they evolve as I was hoping. My worst fear was repetition. I had to be sure the core ideas weren't creeping back into the piece later on. The themes need to evolve through the story, even a non-fiction story. Somehow, even as disconnected as those rewrites were, the themes are moving forward through the book at a natural progression.

If I stick with this format, I should finish two to three chapters a week. This doesn't look like it will be longer than my previous books. So. it looks like a month before the narrative is finished even with the holidays. Then I do the follow up rewrites. I also have appendices to write, but these are more academic than narrative, so they should go pretty quick and will only have one or two rewrites (if that).

During this process I will journal my thoughts and feelings here. I don't know if anyone will care. That's not the point. I think of it like those behind-the-scenes extras for films. Mostly, they are self-gratifying, but if you are interested in how the sausage is made, then its available.

I also want to use this to document how this process may change from story to story. I am curious how it might look after a few years. Will I have refined my process, or dumped it altogether? I wonder what future me will think of this. I bet future Ruel will take a look, get through the first half, delete it, and hope no one scraped a copy or thinks to look at the way back machine's archives to dredge this up.

One last note. I am rereading "On Writing" by Stephen King. I started in my final week of employment. I highly recommend it for any author, aspiring or not. While it has some advice, it is more of a peek into Stephen King as a writer. I am not a huge fan of King. I like many of his stories, but I don't go running to by a new book of his just because it was released.

However, I always find this book to be reaffirming, and inspiring. I don't agree with everything he says, but that's ok. I think the core value of the book isn't the advice. To me, it feels like he is sharing his experience and passing it along in case what works for him can help other writers. That's not to say one should ignore the advice. Its good advice. But that doesn't mean it works for everyone.

I don't expect the same fame, or any fame. I don't even know if writing will be profitable yet. But there is this sense of kinship when you read this book. I can relate to him, and much of what he says. The first time I read this I found myself nodding at a page like he could see me agreeing with him. It's like a conversation with King. "I totally get where you're coming from, Stephen. Telepathy."

Anyways, it's not a revolutionary book that will suddenly make a writer out of anyone. It's not designed for that. But, if you are a writer, it's a good read, and I recommend it. It's great for slumps. For me, I just needed another writer's voice to tell me I'm not crazy.

Welcome to your first day on the job, Ruel. Did you bring your toolbox?

[ckret2]

So here's how I've been writing this fic:

For a while, I've been at least ten chapters ahead. Like when I was posting chapter 20 I was writing chapter 32.

But recently I went "I need to follow up on a plot point in chapter 22 AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, or else it'll take 15 chapters, which is too long to leave this plot thread hanging," so I wrote chapter 23 while I was posting chapter 19. And then I went "I just realized I need to bring up this other subplot, it also can't wait like fifteen chapters, and chapter 23 is sort of short and aimless," so I wrote all of chapter 23 (and, apparently, 24) in the last two days. And tomorrow's the day I'd usually post chapter 23.

My typical writing schedule means that by the time I'm scheduled to post a chapter, I probably wrote the rough draft two months ago and I can look it over with fresh eyes while editing. That's not the case with this chapter. On top of that, there's a couple clunky conversations that I hope I can trim down and hammer into shape, but that needs some serious editing time.

So, I might skip this week's post date so I've got proper time to revise it.

If so, I'll still find something else to post tomorrow, because 60% of my life force comes from people talking to me about this story I'm working on.

"This chapter is about 2500 words and nothing really happens, maybe I can combine it with another short plot I wanted to squeeze in. If I can get this chapter up to 5000 words, maybe 6000 at the absolute most—"

The chapter is 10,914 words. It is now two chapters.

[alpha-queen-terrorizer]

Here are some notes on how Yanna helps change the overall story of the Sequel Trilogy & some more overall changes I'm adding

Yanna watched Hux carefully as he interacted with the girl, Rey. Helping him stay shielded from her prodding, she was strong in the Force, but it was pure raw power, untrained power. And that set Yanna on edge.

Yanna is a former Jedi turned Dark Side user, she is not however a sith. She has no tendencies toward the inherent dark nature of the Dark side except intrusive thoughts. Sometimes she acts on those thoughts, but most often she ignores them, let's them simmer inside her mind, tapping into them when she uses the force.

Yanna's Punishment from Snoke when both she and Kylo fail to recapture Rey is what truly begins the spiral Hux, Yanna, and Kylo go through to overthrow Snoke. Kylo cares about his best friend more than anything and seeing her hurt like that sets off a switch in his mind. Hux is often accompanied by Yanna when they are summoned to Snoke, the two have a mutual understanding to care for one another in his presence, thus he too feels rage toward Snoke for what he does.

None of the trio know what StarKiller is, aside from a weapon of sorts, until the General commanding it is killed (by Snoke) and Hux is forced to take over. Its then that he realizes it's a constantly moving Armada of experimental Dreadnoughts, that skim wild space, built to be able to Glass entire planets in one hit. (Glassing in SW is extremely scary, it turns dirt, plants, ect. into glass, Mandalor once had it happen)

Yanna and Kylo knew each other as children, and she watched Ben's subtle turn to the Dark Side. She was there when Luke confronted Ben about why they were leaving, Luke made a mistake in his choice of words that set Ben into a rage, accidentally knocking out Luke and destroying the academy.

Rey doesn't escape the first time she is captured by the First Order, instead she is interrogated and kept under surveillance by the Intelligence Minister, Hux. During Rey's time there she starts to learn the inner workings of the First Order, and sees loose threads, ones she pulls on that start to unravel everything that Snoke built. Hux doesn't stop her once he realizes, although warns her of the danger.

Hux himself is mostly disgruntled by how the First Order operates under Snoke. He dislikes how similar they are to the Empire, which in turn makes half of the Galaxy fear and hate them. Once he's appointed Supreme Leader, he begins work on ending and being new objectives. One being sending relief aid to war torn planets and finishing the promise to end the Wookie trade. He also dismantles the stealing of children for soliders. Slavery has no part in his Galaxy.

Snoke himself is also not Palpatine. In fact Sheeve isn't alive at all. The only thing that remains of him, is that the First Order was a contingency plan if he died. Snoke rather, is one of two options I'm playing with. A: just a random Sith who was never intrested in Jedi Sith war and only appeared seeing an opportunity to gain power. Or B: Mace Windu, who not only survived Anakin and Palp, but Coruscants Core, thru sheer use of the Dark side of the Force, and is now using any means necessary to make sure another Yoda and Order 66 doesn't happen.

(Speaking of Yoda) sorry to my Yoda fans. But Yoda is often looked at as an evil figure in the eyes of everyone except Jedi. How his fear of the Dark side and return of Sith clouded him. Jedi are now considered warriors because of him, that his insistence on teaching Jedi to specifically kill Sith, but also teaching them to be peacekeepers was in opposition. Many when talking about the rise of Vader blame the Legendary Master Yoda.

The Resistance is not a small band of remaining New Republic members, but half of the galaxy. The First Order likewise, is not an Empire 2. Rather, they send in Imps to actually peacekeep on planets that were ignore by the New Republic, such as Jakku. The fighting between them begins as a Cold War, as the Galaxy chooses between which one they'd rather have. With the New Republic being the original aggressors. However, many in the outer rim prefer the First Order, because they are actually helping rather than ignoring them. The first fight that begins against the two is when Snoke orders the testing of Starkiller on a New Republic planet.

Luke's disappearance in this version is also different. Rather than him hiding, he actually ended up crash landing on Ach-to after his ship was damaged in the destruction of his Temple. Luke develops severe amnesia and forgets who he is for a time. And with no way off the planet, he just stays there, unaware of what's going on. It's only when Rey finds and presents Anakin's lightsaber that he regains his memories. Rey asks to be trained, but Luke refuses, stating "I can not train Jedi." So Rey takes him back to Leia and the Resistance, but she herself doesn't stay, taking up Kylo's offer of training now realizing she has no other option. They train in secret together. When not training Rey, Kylo is training the Knights.

The throne room scene is basically the same, except Hux and Yanna are there too, the four of them having planned the coup beforehand. In preparation for this, Yanna has been training Hux on how to use a lightsaber, modifying one of her's so that it doesn't require the Force to be use once passed of to him. When they come out victorious, Kylo doesn't give his offer to Rey, instead Hux asks her to call off the Resistance. Asks for her to arrange a truce between the two factions.

Said truce has high tension between both sides. The first order brought Yanna, Kylo, Hux, and Phasma, and in a show of peace only one ship lands, however others are on standby if it turns bloody. While the Resistance has well, everyone. They talk about who has the better government, and Hux even suggests, now being the Leader, that the two merge together. Leia is against the idea, still having repressed memories about the Empire and destruction of Alderaan that she never fully processed. Then shouting begins, and there's solid arguments on both sides. But by the end of it a blaster is fired, thus starting a battle.

The end of the movie is basically the same, except less angry Kylo at Luke. However, Luke does still die here, sacrificing himself so the Resistance can escape the superior weaponry of the First Order. Rey however is at odds with herself. On one hand her friends are in the Resistance, on the other she genuinely saw potential in the First Order as a government. Unsure of what to do her instant choice is to escape with the Resistance.

By the beginning of the next movie, the First Order has been making genuine good progress and faith with the people of the Galaxy. Enough so that some people in the New Republic have been voicing concerns about their leaders. Hux is loved by many, although that love is still often because of fear. Yanna stays mostly by Hux during this time, acting as his Right Hand, while Phasma is his Grand General. Kylo however has been at work with the Knights, tracking down Rey. His bond with her helping in that front.

The Resistance however has been hard at work, building up bases and their numbers, still trying to undermine the First Order. Leia spends most of her time finishing Rey's training, leaving Poe in charge alongside Mothma. Finn is working hard training new recruits and acting as head of Intelligence, knowing the most about the First Order. Rose is now in charge of the pilots since Poe no longer can. She helps Poe and Finn realize their affection for each other, bringing them together.

Rey spends a lot of time away from the Resistance, still unsure if they truly are the right choice. Instead she let's the Force guide her, by now she has a grip on both the Light and Dark side, becoming truly equal and balanced. She often leaves to find and explore old ruins of Force users, Dark and Light.

It's at one of these ruins that she meets Kylo again. He greets her by engaging with a quick spar between them. It's not aggressive or meant to harm, but rather see how far her training has come. Rey fights him and when she gets the upper hand clearly wining and with opportunity to kill him, she doesn't. Instead she smiles at him and offers her hand, helping him up. They explore the ruins and talk about what each has been doing over the past year. Kylo explains that mostly he's been searching for her, having left Hux completely in charge, helping him when he needs, but more engaged in following the Ren and finding more Knights to train. He offers her that title, but she refuses. She then explains that she's been learning everything she could about the downfall of both Jedi and Sith. And she explains that she doesn't think either should return, that neither were right. Kylo wants to rebuttal but she sends him a look that shuts him down. He only sighs and while not agreeing doesn't object. It's not long after, both get a sudden feeling in the back of their mind. Something dark, a Warning.

Hux in the meantime has been once more setting up a meeting between the New Republic, talking to Poe at times. When he denies at first, Hux caves and sends Yanna directly. Yanna doesn't know where their base is located, but is able to latch onto Finn's force signature and follows that. When she walks into their base she's instantly surrounded by blasters. She explains why she's there and is restrained, her lightsabers taken. Poe and Mothma both deny the request again, locking the three in a debate, but when neither party can agree they call it off. Yanna is detained there, unable to leave because now she knows where they are.

While there Finn feels a tug to speak to her, and when he does she finally reveals to him something he's suspected. He is Force sensitive. She offers to train him, but he's suspicious of her intentions and makes a joke about how he'd rather eat a Hutts behind. She only shrugs and leaves the option available. The next day comes and Finn still feels that itch to speak to her, so he returns and begins questioning her. She answers everything he ask in ernest, slowly gaining his trust. Again the next day is the same he returns to her cell and this time asks why. Yanna flat put states she has no ill will toward him, toward any of them, that she just sees another force sensitive in need of guidance and wishes to help. Hesitantly Finn agrees, but states she has to stay in the cell, she only laughs amused.

So, Yanna and Finn train, starting with meditation, similar to how Luke originally trained her. Then she guides him on levitation. And eventually she instructs him on lightsaber stances, him using her own sabers. This is done in secret at first, but then Leia is made aware and storms in to confront Yanna. Surprisingly Yanna and Leia spiral into a long conversation which ends up with them sympathetic towards each other. That's when Yanna looks her in the eyes and says, "Let Hux have his audience. Listen to him, he just wants peace." Leia lets out a long sigh and then nods.

Then we cut back to Rey and Kylo, the Knights trailing behind, taking a liking to Rey instantly. The Knights specifically have relaxed in their ways, Kylo being a new source of inspiration for them, for he follows the Ren, but in a way they didn't original plan. The black feeling that both Rey and Kylo got leads them to the Sith homeworld, or what they thought. As they inspect closer they realize that the Sith race wasn't native to this planet, but conquered it hundreds of years prior, because of the raw Force that emanates from the planet itself. They stumble upon a large mural, that depicts the return of the Sith once the grand Prophecy has been fulfilled. Instantly Kylo remembers Vader, The Chosen One. But? If the Sith were said to return at the fulfillment of the prophecy, where were they? Its then that Rey's eyes go wide as she uncovers a hidden part of the mural. The Prophecy wasn't The Chosen One, but when the Last Jedi Falls. (Nudge nudge wink wink)

We then return to Hux, who surprisingly is at the Resistance base, talking to Leia who this time is genuinely listening to him. They talk of about the effects of either merging or acting separately as allies. Its then that suddenly Rey and Kylo rush in, Rey is surprised by Hux but shakes it off quickly, warning them of the Sith. As she does the sky darkens and a rolling of thunder shakes the ground. They all exit the building to see massive ships that haven't been used since the days of the Old Republic. They seem to linger too long because a bombardment of explosions goes off nearby, having been dropped from of the fighters. Hux looks to Leia who nods determined and its then that both Resistance and First Order fight together against this threat.

Hux calls in all his troops to the planet, Yanna right behind him as they run to the frontlines. Its here we see Hux pull out a weapon, at first glance it's a lightsaber, but then its easily realized in fact it's a proto saber, connected to a small box hidden on Hux's belt. The two are joined by Finn, who at first pulls out his blaster, but Yanna sends a disappointed look his way, before tossing him one of her own. He looks shocked, then grins.

Kylo, Rey, and the Knights start the first push as the Sith begin their ground assault.

Rose and Poe lead the battle in their ships beside Phasma.

Leia doesn't necessarily join in, but holds down command, sending new information to the troops as it comes in. And sending out distress signals to anyone who will answer.

For a long while its chaos, as they don't nearly have enough manpower to fight the entire Sith. Then a booming sound stops the fighting for a moment as they all look up, and there in the sky is hundreds of ships, from both the First Order and New Republic. They've won before the Sith even have a chance.

Once everything settles and everyone is obviously okay, Hux, Leia and Poe all come together. Hux calmly asks once more for a ceasefire and alliance, to which both Poe and Leia agree.

Roll credits.

Not everything as you can see is extremely fleshed out and things are still subject to change. But overall, this is the direction I wish to take this rewrite in. I hope you stick around to see it happen.