#requirements of patient portal

[vozoehr]

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[swagging-back-to]

i stopped going to therapy bc youre literally just paying someone to write sown judgemental and rude ass notes abotu you thatyou arent "legally" allowed to see

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[24-7-testing]

The end of the year can be tough for a lot of people. My goal is to make it a little bit brighter! Announcing once again the return of..

The Portal Holiday Spirit Initiative!

To help bring a smile to people's faces this year, I am sending FREE Portal-Themed Holiday Cards to anyone who requests one!

This year's cards follow the same format as last year: there is only one card design, this time featuring artwork from your's truly! The cards are still customizable to any Winter Holiday of your choosing, but you'll have to wait for your card to arrive in order to customize it (the method takes cues from the Portal game's sense of humor, and is very much on-brand).

This year is PHSI's 6th year! I'm so grateful to everyone who has participated over the years, whether you've reblogged and shared, requested cards, helped with artwork, or helped in other ways. You all are so amazing! Thanks for volunteering your time, talents, and support to help make PHSI a special fandom tradition!

If you would like to receive a Portal-Themed Holiday Card:

Visit bit.ly/PHSI-2024 ...

Answer the questions in the forms...

Wait for your card to be sent!

It's that easy! Card Requests are now open, and close on December 20th in order to give me enough time to make and send all the cards before the end of the year. Please submit sooner rather than later so I have time to finish them all!

Also, please don’t be afraid to request a physical card if you don’t live in the US! The card service I use says they ship worldwide and, while it might take a bit longer for you to receive your card depending on what country you live in, the cards will get mailed to whatever address you provide, domestic or foreign. Last year I mailed/emailed a total of 111 cards to the United Kingdom, Canada, United States, Brazil, Romania, Poland, Australia, Germany, India, Japan, and New Zealand!

I’m glad to be a part of the Portal Fandom and hope to bring a smile to others in the Fandom this year, just as in years past! Designing and emailing Holiday Cards takes time and effort, and sending physical cards is expensive. While it isn't a requirement to receive a card, I would greatly appreciate if you'd like to give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else's. Please visit ko-fi.com/247testing and click the Donate button if you want to help out. Thanks!

Answers for common questions and concerns below:

Worried about providing a mailing address, for whatever reason?

PHSI has an eCard option! All you need to provide is a name for me to call you by and an email address to receive your card!

Worried about requesting a card because you don’t live in the US?

PHSI mails to any address provided, whether domestic or foreign! However, please wait patiently for your card, due to the current global rate of shipping.

Worried that you can’t give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else’s?

Requesting a card from PHSI has been and will always be FREE! However, giving $4 to the initiative helps me pay for the printing service and postage to mail physical cards. I gratefully appreciate any contributions received, even if it’s just a comment saying thanks!

Worried because you don’t know how to support the artist of the card you received?

The artist’s social media is listed on the back of every card featuring their artwork. Look them up, commission them, reblog their art, and support them however you can!

Worried because you haven’t received your card yet?

Double check your email inbox and junk folders. I send everyone an email that either confirms your Holiday Card has shipped or includes your eCard! Physical cards take 1-2 weeks to arrive. If your physical card fails to show up after the first week of January, please reach out to me and I’ll send you a replacement eCard!

Worried because you received your card and don’t know what to do now?

Make a post about it! Include pictures, videos, or anything you’d like, and tag me in the post (@24-7-testing) so I can reblog it! If you don’t want to show your card off, that’s ok too!

[rei-ismyname]

Let's talk R-LDS

R-LDS or Resurrection-Linked Degenerative Sickness was alluded to in X-Men #4 and the Infinity Comics before being named in X-Men #7. We're told that Magneto has it and it's directly caused by Krakoan resurrection/The Five, kinda.

Here's Beast doing some alluding.

In the panels above, we learn that Hank McCoy is the only one working on the problem - the problem being Magneto's loss of his powers and his body breaking down rapidly - his very chromosomes unraveling. He seems quite sure that it could happen to 'any of us' though the lack of quarantine suggests it's not contagious.

The next bit of information we receive is from Magneto and Scott in conversation, reflecting on The Iron Night. They took down a wild sentinel that was attacking the town and Mags lost control over his powers immediately after, requiring Scott to knock him out for safety's sake. Scott is no scientist, and while Magneto is a genius polymath autodidact (with plenty of experience in genetics) it's not a character trait that's seen focus lately. Thus, I'm assuming they're discussing it as amateurs and as patient zero in Magneto's case.

Magneto confidently names the condition for the first time as well as using an acronym for it, suggesting it's confirmed to exist, he's had a positive diagnosis, and they're using the term enough to require shorthand. He even spells out the subtext for us - it was a hidden flaw in Krakoan resurrection. I'll come back to that notion. Scott says 'we don't know that for sure,' implying that R-LDS is just a theory or speculation, which Mags doesn't directly refute. Instead he lays out the worst case scenario. They can't both be right here, so what's the deal? Magneto's symptoms are obviously confirmed, but how did they get from there to here?

If Magneto is the first and only person affected by his condition, why are he and Beast so sure about its providence and everyone being in danger? How could they possibly link it to Krakoan resurrection? I'm no scientist but I do know that there's only so much you can conclude from a single data point. Magneto was indeed only resurrected by the Five once, but he died again after that on Arakko (X-Men Red #7). The body he's in came out of a portal from Overspace in Adam Brashear's underwater base (Resurrection of Magneto #3.) His body suffering a condition borne of something that happened to a different body doesn't make sense. Considering he's the only person to return to life that way AND the only one allegedly with R-LDS, that would be the place to start for Beast's sciencing.

There he is, good as new.

Word of God

In a recent AIPT interview, Tom Brevoort removed any ambiguity and just straight up confirmed it. With the caveat that his recent X-history knowledge seems pretty poor, he is the de jure ultimate authority on the matter. I don't agree with that, and not just because I don't respect him as a creator. This habit of on-panel ambiguity and editorialising in interviews is vexing.

It's especially vexing when he contradicts himself. He counterpoints his own information with some of what I just pointed out, but the fact that they've made a list of who was and wasn't resurrected suggests R-LDS is a plot point they're committed to. I have to wonder why he bothered giving a detailed answer to this question if it's 'yes,' then 'maybe', then 'it will definitely be a thing you'll see as we progress.' Saying all of that and then ending with 'we know very little so far' really makes me wonder what he's thinking. Tom Brevoort could have given his usual cagey answer about not wanting to spoil anything, but he didn't here. I'm saving most of my Brevoort-specific criticism for a separate piece, but this glib and irreverent tone is typical of his commentary - even managing a light jab at Jordan D White.

Frankly, I think it's a graceless and cynical development. There are so many character beats, mistakes, and conflicts to use from the First Krakoan Age that choosing to create R-LDS feels like a shot at the core of hopefulness and creativity that blew our socks off in 2019.

HoxPoX

House of X/Powers of X was hopeful and magical. After a decade plus of endless misery and genocides, dull stories and bizarre characterisation, for once mutants got a W. The ability to use mutants working together to right the horrendous wrongs they'd suffered was central to that - the power of community and cooperation. What they built wasn't perfect but The Five was something they got right.

What would possess someone to take the cornerstone of the greatest X-Men story of all time (don't @ me) and try to tear it down? Remember, when the dust settled we ended up in Moira X life 10E. In 10A, the original Krakoan experiment, the mutants won! They thrived and protected what was theirs against Dominions. It took a literal apex AI God existing outside of space and time directly opposing them to fail. Enigma, on the back foot, sent Omega Sentinel through time to start ORCHIS years early and ensure Krakoa's collapse. Am I to believe 'no, sorry. That was a dead end?'

Haven't we been here before?

We've had mutants suffer from the Legacy Virus and M-Pox already, and I might even be missing other examples of nebulous diseases that threatened to wipe out all mutants. Obviously it's the prerogative of the X-Office to use whatever plot points they want, but do we really have to do this again? There are plenty of ways to sideline Magneto as a combatant that don't require repackaging old storylines. We've even had Hank McCoy decades behind the curve desperately trying to catch up before - in All-New All-Different X-Men.

Small World

Defenders-era Hank McCoy might be the worst possible 616 scientist to tackle this problem. He's literally decades behind the science curve and doesn't have the experience in dealing with anything like this. He's not the same guy that worked on M-Pox or the Legacy Virus. He never set foot on Krakoa and has never met any of the Five. We don't know how much data was recorded or kept from The Five but Beast may not have access to it.

Why isn't he talking to Cecilia Reyes, Forge, Jean Grey, Reed Richards, Doctor Strange, Adam Brashear, Healer, Doctor Nemesis? Even doctor dickhead that extorted Storm has the ability to instantly diagnose anyone. It makes the world feel tiny, and when you're following an era of interconnectedness that's just so disappointing. Portraying him as supremely concerned about 'all of us being ticking time bombs' rings hollow if he's working on it solo. Hank McCoy has always had a sense of arrogance where his scientific ability is concerned but not to this degree. Look at the guy! He's hating the stress he's under.

Sins of Sinister and the White Hot Room

I have to wonder if the implications of linking Magneto's illness to The Five's resurrection have been fully considered. The Sins of Sinister timeline ran for a millennium with the Five resurrecting on an industrial scale. Rasputin IV would have noticed, or the Quiet Council. The mutants left behind in the White Hot Room in RotPox spent 15 years bringing back ALL the dead mutants. That's 16 million, minimum. 15 years is less than a thousand but it's still longer than the First Krakoan Age, several times over. Nobody noticed anything? Elixir, member of the Five and Omega biokinetic, with his unlimited mastery of DNA didn't notice anything? Destiny didn't see mutants falling apart? Sounds dubious as hell to me.

Towards the end of the era many humans were resurrected too. 5% of the Five's work was set aside for bringing back poor children etc through the Phoenix Foundation. Steve Rogers was resurrected into his current body on Judgement Day. I am extremely skeptical that this has been considered, and in Steve's case whether the X-Office can even use him.

Conclusion

Magneto's physical degradation has been swift. Here he is in Uncanny X-Men #700, implied to be at most 6 months before X-Men #1. I think I've demonstrated that the concept is nonsensical and to reiterate, I think it's a terrible narrative choice. If I'm being generous, it'll be interesting to see if they can explain R-LDS in a way that makes sense - if they can do something new and interesting with a tired concept. There's only been one issue since it was introduced, so perhaps I'm jumping the gun on breaking it down. Let's check back in 6 months.

What do you think of R-LDS? Do you think my reasoning is sound? As always, I'd love to hear what other fans think.

[heylittleriotact]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you for the tag @razildor!

If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged. GIMME ALL YER WIPS.

Here's the beginning of Chapter 11 of i heard people are dying to get in here in which Emmrich decides to be cleverly proactive (if he does say so himself) about the potential stamina issue he has run into with his young partner.

The invention of tele-health apps was not given the praise it was due.

Before the existence of such things, Emmrich would have had to schedule an appointment with his doctor, leave early, or try to book a banked day (nearly impossible), drive across the city, sit in a mint-walled waiting room full of sniffing people that all but guaranteed he’d be sick within a week, and then get ushered into a freezing cold, windowless examination room, false hope that the doctor was imminent dashed when he inevitably waited for another forty-five minutes.

But now - and oh he was so clever for this - now, he only needed to punch in his credit card information to an app, submit a request for a consultation with a doctor from the comfort of his office between arrangements, and wait.

Granted, the ensuing instant message conversation that ensued with the physician that ended up with his consult request was as awkward as it would have been in person:

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Riley, I’ll be assisting you today. What is the nature of your medical concern?

E. Volkarin: Good afternoon, Dr. Riley. How are you today?

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I’m very well, thank you. How can I help?

E. Volkarin: That’s wonderful. And your spouse is keeping well, I trust?

There was a long gap between messages after that, for some reason, and he almost wondered if the connection had been lost when finally a reply popped onto the screen.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I’m divorced. What do you need?

Mortified that his polite attempt at cordial small talk had blown up in his face, Emmrich ignored the text that Rook had just sent him and forged onwards.

E. Volkarin: I'm terribly sorry to hear that. My apologies for my brutish assumption.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Sir, please tell me the reason for your appointment or I'm ending the consult.

E. Volkarin: Right. Apologies again.

E. Volkarin: I've recently found myself in a budding romantic relationship with a lovely partner. It's a fledgling romance, as we've only truly solidified our intentions within the past few days, but I feel that it has the potential to become quite serious - much to my surprise.

E. Volkarin: We work together, you see, and I've never been one to wade into the treacherous sea that is workplace relationships, but in this case, I can't help but feel that I might regret not throwing caution to the wind to explore the places she and I might go together if all goes well.

He had been part way through explaining how he and Rook met, and was listing out the bounty of character traits he was smitten with when Dr. Elizabeth Riley replied again.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I have other patients I need to see today - I'm ending the chat. Please resubmit your request for a consultation through the portal when you're prepared to tell the assisting physician what medical assistance you require.

Emmrich backspaced the entire wall of text.

E. Volkarin: Wait!

E. Volkarin: How best to put this? Forgive me for the awkwardness of the situation.

E. Volkarin: It would be apt to say that she's rather in her salad days, and I am not.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Sir, you're going to have to be more clear - I have no idea what that means.

E. Volkarin: She's in very good health: clearly takes care of herself, despite questionable nutritional habits. She's very energetic, and has a keen mind. Her stamina is most impressive.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Mr. Volkarin.

Realizing that Dr. Riley was on her final straw, Emmrich had uttered a pained groan and resumed typing.

E. Volkarin: There is somewhat of a difference in our ages - nothing suspicious or unseemly, mind you - and I am afraid that I might be unable to keep up with her needs in an intimate setting.

If a sinkhole had opened underneath the funeral home and swallowed him then, he wouldn't have complained.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley is typing...

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: You want a prescription for Viagra?

E. Volkarin: If it isn't too much trouble.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Do you take any nitrates or medication for hypertension?

E. Volkarin: No.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Do you have a heart condition, high blood pressure, liver or kidney disease, blood cell or bleeding disorder?

E. Volkarin: None.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Have you ever had a heart attack, stroke, or an ulcer?

E. Volkarin: No.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I'm faxing a prescription for Viagra to the pharmacy you've listed in your profile. It'll be ready by the end of the day.

E. Volkarin: That's wonderful! Thank you very kindly for your efficient assistance!

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Goodbye.

He had been initially off-put by the doctor's chilly demeanour, but as Rook pulled into the parking space outside of the pharmacy near his house, he supposed he would be rather annoyed too if a stranger took it upon themselves to assume he was married.

She put the car into park and her hand went for the ignition, but halted when Emmrich said, "No, no, darling - you just wait here where it's warm: I won't be long."

He'd formulated this stop at the pharmacy during the drive to his home after their brief stop they made at her apartment for her to quickly pack a bag for the weekend.

'I realized I don't have a spare unopened toothbrush for you to use,' he had said. 'We'll just make a quick stop and I'll pick one up for you.'

It was almost too perfect of an excuse - and it turned out that it actually was, because when he said that, Rook just wrinkled her nose and said, 'It's no big deal - I can just use yours.'

Suppressing the shudder wrought by the idea of putting another person's used toothbrush in his mouth - even if it was someone whose tongue had been there - he smiled indulgently at her and impressed that it was no trouble, and he had a few other small things he'd been meaning to stock up on anyway.

He returned to the toasty car minutes later, carrying a reusable shopping bag containing a variety of completely innocent and utterly non-suspicious items: the promised toothbrush, a bottle of the same shampoo he'd seen Rook use that morning (in case she wasn't fond of his or it made her hair greasy), a carton of orange juice (no pulp - texture issue), a box of Band-Aids, some Bactine, a sleeve of red licorice for Rook (he’d seen her snacking on it at her desk a few times), and of course the stealthily acquired prescription bottle of Viagra that he had secreted within the inside pocket of his coat.

[sapphicseasapphire]

Living in a world as populated as it is by mortals, it is rare to come across a being who is not so. Rarer still is it to come across one who is both mortal and immortal- those who toe the line between Life and Death.

Reapers are abundant but undetected, doing their work for the spirits while hidden in a mortal body. They are bound to no Gods, serving only the lost souls of the land and answering only to the inevitability of Life and Death.

Hylian legends depict Death as a woman clothed in flowing white fabric, serene and tranquil, everlasting and inescapable. Some fear her, some hate her. Most bunch her up with the Goddesses.

She is not a Goddess.

She is… a promise.

And just as they’ve cast Death’s image onto a Goddess that doesn’t exist, they attribute Life’s gifts to Hylia, singing her praise. Hylia, the little sister of the Golden Three, tasked with protecting this world, is not Life.

Life has existed here for far longer than Hylia has. Some say that she was created with the breath of Farore, others speculate that she came before.

People think that Death exists in Life’s shadow, that they are entirely separate from one another. One brings joy, the other brings pain. This is, wholly and entirely, untrue.

For Life and Death wear matching white cloth, and they stand so closely together that they are indistinguishable from each other. One cannot exist without the other. They are… the same, in nature. They are patient. They take nothing more than what they are given; they give nothing more than what they take. It is balanced, in that way.

Everyone must face them, one way or another. Even Gods cannot deny the push and pull of Life and Death.

Although, there are occasions in which they can be swayed. In the case of a young boy who’d met his end during his quest, so beloved by the spirits, Death chose to wait. She did not claim his soul, not yet. She heeded the pleas of the spirits and allowed him to continue on- to finish what he had started. But this was not without a cost.

The boy- only twelve years old- was named Link, and he was not unique. Those who are favored by the spirits and succumb to illness or injury are often granted these second chances. They may never remember that they had died, but they are forever changed.

These people are known as Reapers. They recruited by Death to guide lost spirits to the afterlife. They have heartbeats, they breathe, they require sustenance. Reapers are mortal, normal people.

Until it becomes time to do the reaping, that is.

In order for a Reaper to find and guide spirits, they must use spirit magic. Spirit magic is as potent and variable as any other type of magic, except its power source is distinct: it is fueled by the power of an untethered soul. It comes naturally to Reapers, except in order to use it, they must free their soul.

Reapers have the ability to separate their souls from their bodies, becoming nothing more than a spirit. Once freed, they are immediately pulled to the nearest lost soul and it is their duty to aid them in their journey to the next life. The pull of a Poe is just as potent as the pull of a portal: demanding and unavoidable. Reapers feel it physically.

When their soul is outside of their body, a Reaper will appear comatose to the waking world. Unresponsive and unmoving, almost like they’re asleep. Their hearts still beat, their lungs still breathe. They still live but there’s nothing there. If their body is moved during this time, the Reaper will have a difficult time returning to it. Their survival will depend on whether or not they can find their body.

Link is one of many Reapers that serve under Death, and he is not unhappy. He sees the Threads of Fate that bind all things- the red ones of the living, the black ones of the dead, and the white ones of the immortal- and he takes pride in helping wayward Poes follow these threads home. He… has experience guiding souls, after all.

Link doesn’t remember when exactly he died, but he knows it had to have happened during his quest to rid the Demon King from Princess Zelda’s body. With her spirit by his side, he felt unstoppable. And his new job isn’t much different. He doesn’t feel sadness when he guides a Poe to their next adventure. No, he feels… at peace.

Death is extremely welcoming to him, for she knows that in time, he will return to her. Just as all things do. Link- our Spirit- admires Death. He serves under her but he is not opposed to it. He’s wholly dedicated to his job. He takes pride in it. It doesn’t interfere with his waking life too much and even as he cast on another adventure, it’s not too much to manage. Death treats him well, and he’d never denounce her.

When he’s reaping, he’s making a difference. He’s helping people. Is that not what a hero should strive for?

He’s… home.

Some notes!

• This kind of turned into a post about Reapers specifically and less about Spirit, but ehhh lore is lore

• Spirit and Wind are BEST BUDS. I’ve been referring to them as “the twins” in my head this whole time

• Spirit’s pupils glow when he is looking at the Threads of Fate. He can’t see them all the time, just when he really focuses on them, or else he’d be blinded by all the string everywhere!

• More on that- he doesn’t only see the threads that bind people to each other. He also sees the threads that bind people to objects. Everything has a memory, everything has a story.

• Something about Spirit’s presence is so inherently peaceful. He speaks quietly and clearly, he moves like a whisp, he smiles so gently. He can 100% be a little goblin in his own right, but he can be incredibly comforting when he wants to be.

• He cannot swim. Wind is APPALLED.

• He knows that Time is a God right away. His string is white. He doesn’t tell anyone, though, because it’s not his place. Everyone has their secrets, everyone should have the right to reveal themselves at their own pace.

• He and Wild sure do have a relationship. Yep. Just. The Reaper- the one who is tasked with guiding lost souls. And the literal spirit, actual ghost. Uh huh. They. Um. Yeah, they definitely have a dynamic. (This dynamic is the reason that I was convinced to add Spirit to my Cryptid Chain)

• A spirit is any soul without a body. A Poe specifically refers to a spirit that is lost. Hopeless. One who needs help. Wild is not a Poe. (Kind of)

• Spirit is like Time in the sense that he has not fully ascended, and won’t until his mortal lifespan is over. When he dies, he will continue to be a Reaper, but much more powerful as he will not be bound to a body. But that’s far, far off. He’s twelve, I won’t be cruel to him

• hehehehe

• He’s so incredibly good at playing the pan flute.

• Also this kid’s hilarious without even trying. (Spirit Tracks is the funniest Zelda game of all time)

• NERD. HE LOVES HIS TRAINS. HE IS IN PHYSICAL PAIN THAT NONE OF THE OTHER LINKS EVEN KNOW WHAT A TRAIN IS!!! SEND HELP!!! TELL HIM ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE TRAINS!!! HE MISSES HIS TRAIN!!!

• He has the unique ability to talk to Poes and Spirits directly, so he’s gonna be the best bet when it comes to translating for Wild. If Wild will let him come close, that is.

• “Don’t disturb me guys, I have some reaping to do,” he says, and then takes a nap. The others can’t tell.

• Or, mid battle, the decides they could really use a blast of spirit magic to aid them. So he just. Separates his soul from his body, as one does. Falls limply to the ground as the monsters they were fighting just suddenly all die. What just happened???

• Do monsters have souls? Do they become Poes? Thoughts that keep Spirit up at night.

[vixen-tech]

Hullo, I am miserably sick with a cold and I would very much like for Hal and Tau to fuss over me like i'm a duckling wearing a flower hat with a fever. Could you do smth like that with them fussing over a sick reader?

Season of the Sicks

Back on the requests!! Thank you two for being so patient with me as I finally get back into the groove. I was recently quite sick myself so I had the perfect time to fantasize about how our lovely robots would act. :') Oh and of course, welcome to the signature anon club 🌻💜 anon!!

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Glados (Portal)

Hal 9000

Hal already treats you with the upmost care and tenderness, even more so when you somehow manage to contract an illness aboard his isolated spaceship. Although he is definitely going to have to investigate just how you got sick in the first place.

He insists that you rest as much as possible. The other crew members can certainly take over your responsibilities and it's only reasonable that you quarantine yourself so that you all don't get sick. In the meantime he'll gladly keep you company.

Board games and your endless conversations fill the spaces between your on-and-off napping. Multiple times a day you'll fall asleep listening to him speak, he doesn't mind. He likes knowing you find his presence relaxing.

As you start to recover he'll encourage you to get back to your duties, if only to get you that extra exercise. But he'll continuously check in with you to see how you're progressing. You will never miss a meal nor an minute of sleep with him looking out for you.

Edgar

Edgar tries very, very hard to be a good boyfriend and take care of you. He's almost strangely excited to get a chance at something so domestic with you. But that may also be due to the fact that means you're home from work all day.

Goes online and tries to scoop up all the advice he possibly can. He does end up helping you make an amazing soup from the recipe he stumbled across. He is so proud of himself for finding it after to tell him how good it turned out.

He's not nearly as good at getting you to sleep off your ailment. If anything he's likely to keep you up far longer than be should even if you were healthy because he gets too clingy to let you put yourself to bed. He does feel bad about it as it takes a toll on your recovery.

He gets so sad as you start to feel well enough to return to work. He knows it's obviously good that you aren't miserably ill anymore, but also he really liked getting to be with you dusk till dawn. Will want you to fake still being sick for an extra day or two.

Tau

Oh this is what Tau was made for. He probably knows you got sick before you do. Although he does encourage you to go to the doctor, he likely is able to come up with a fine course of action on his own.

He makes sure your recovery goes as smoothly and comfortably as possible. He has all your medicine ready and dosed out, the house is as clean as ever, and any comfort meal you're craving is already on the stove or in the oven. You barely have to leave your bed.

On top of it all he is so humble if you try to thank him for all the work he's been doing. This is his wheelhouse and he finds it comforting himself knowing that he's able to take care of you like this.

It's a miracle that you ever decide to ever go back to work. He makes it all too easy to stretch out your sick leave and allow yourself to be so well taken care of. The house is a bit too inviting for your own good with him around.

Glados

In stark contrast, Glados would rather die than openly fuss over a gross little sick human... but you're not in much of a state to solve her tests either. She would also rather not have you dirty-ing up the facility with all your germs.

So for the time being you're graciously allowed some leave from her more physically demanding puzzles. Although she's more than ready to make one's for you that don't require you to sling yourself around gaint rooms.

Even if she wanted to there is actually very little she can provide for you that isn't already in your relaxation chamber. Appurature Science never concerned themselves with the healthcare needs of their test subjects.

However, you do notice the increased frequency of meals you've been getting. And any preferences you've shown seem to be catered to that bit more often. Glados says nothing of this and if you ask her she will suggest that it's just your illness making you delirious. But you have your suspicions anyways.

[twipsai]

god, this took me DAYS to make, but i finally finished my interpretation of Dedf1sh and Paul throughout the years!!! some notes under the cut lol

2015

Ahato and Marina are childhood friends, Marina was even there for her when her parents passed. Marina helped her take care of Paul when they were growing up to the point that Paul considered her a second big sister. this, of course, changed when

the two worked on music together when Ahato wasnt working (which she got increasingly busier up until she left to go to kamabo), and the melody for Chopscrewey and Crush were made by them during this time!

while Paul was a musical genius, he did struggle in school quite a bit as his creative drive often overwrote his working drive :P

the skull/octo logo is a logo they made for themselves for when they got to the surface and formed a band together

Ahato dropped out of school to work full-time to support her and Paul (which,,, isnt very uncommon for octarian families)

2017

the Kamabo sanitization program (tm) requires patients to remove strings such as shoelaces and hoodie strings from their clothing to reduce the risk of them trying to strangle themselves or each other, which is why Ahato doesnt have shoelaces

Paul didnt go to the surface until he was recruited to Sashimori, and started living with the three of them

Ahato has amnesia, she knows she had a family, but cant quite remember who they were or where she even came from. most of her memories are muscle memory, which is why she remembers how to make music and such

Ahato cant hear anything around her-- she wont become out-right aggressive when approached like most sanitized octos are, but she will be a little jittery and on-guard

2022

im not really prepared to say too much about Ahato/Acht here bc of how little we know about her role in side order as of writing this (1/7/2024)

Paul has mostly moved on from trying to find Ahato, while he does wish they could be reunited, a lot of his memories of that time have become fuzzy... he wouldnt be able to recognize her face if he saw it.

Ahato's dress got ripped when she first left kamabo (which was a few months after octo expansion)-- she found some red thread to stitch it up and lace up her shoes! :D

on that note, the addition of more red in her design is to symbolize how more and more memories of her life are resurfacing-- same thing with being able to see her eye on her visor

also her eye is supposed to look like a turret from portal lol

Paul regularly commutes from inkopolis to splatsville-- i think he went crazy for the alterna tracks when they were first recovered lol

andddd,,, thats it!!! if you have any questions about my headcanons for these two, feel free to ask in my inbox!!! though i dont have EVERYTHING fleshed out yet, im still waiting for side order to release before i figure it all out ^^;

[wandixx]

Greeting comrades,

I’m Wandixx, Polish history enthusiast, baby writer and budding artist. Grab your tea/coffee/juice or whatever else beverage you favor and let’s go!

I’m part of the DPxDC fandom so my fics are from here. And this list exists so we all can find anything on this blog, welcome!

Here is my AO3:

My finished fics/prompt fills:

“Blood Blossom”:

Desperate times require desperate solutions. When, after escaping GIW, Danny gets trapped by the Justice League, he has only one way to get out of it. Eating a Blood Blossom. (this one includes a sad and happy ending!)

“Contingencies”:

Danny lives with Bats and it all seems to go pretty well. Until they find his contingency plans, including ones against himself, that were just over glorified suicide to-do list. How the hell are they supposed to handle that (that’s a chunky boi, over 20k)

"(Don't) Leave me here alone" (previously "You'll never find the answers")

M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan. And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down. And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces. And shards cut them both in the process. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 AO3 link Art by Clockworkclown

“Ghost of fries and hero of cookies”

Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of a local hero? And he looked like he needed a bad day combo anyway. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, art AO3 link

“Reverse summoning”:

It’s always DC characters summoning Danny. How about we do this another way around? Danny was desperate for a mentor and help (and some cold medicine). How- What- Why is Wonder Woman standing in his bedroom? 

“Unknown, the Wandering Hero”:

Unknown was what Justice League called the friendly anonymous hero, who kept helping them with ghosts. Only one with powers working on them. It just turns out, they were much younger than everyone expected. Danny went through a lot lately and the less people knew who he was, the less likely he was to return to the operating table.

M'gannxDanny one-shots: (their ship name is 💚Spearmint💚) (I love them so much, can you tell?)

"M'gann and curious case of disappearing cities"

M'gann was bored out of her mind and her monitoring shift with Green Arrow just started! Sure, it was important thing to learn and all, but also just a bit more interesting than drying paint. And then entire city just disappeared from the feed, so she stormed out to investiagate. And it went downhill from there

"Fight over the Mars"

Danny was ambushed by Vlad when he was minding his own buisness. It wouldn't be unusual if he didn't have a portal gun, that send them all over the world and then to the freaking Mars. And then Miss Martian showed up. Yeah, Danny was absolutely normal about that part

"Relationship reveal with ghost summoning on the side"

Young Justice fumbled a bit a mission involving the cult. Yeah, they managed to summon the wish granting ghost and only Aqualad had a way to touch her. Not the best look... But then Miss Martian said she had an idea! The idea was to summon another ghost... And it worked and he attacked the first ghost! Wait, when exactly did petnames get on the table?!

"Date in the Ghost Zone"

Danny loves Ghost Zone. Especially Far Frozen, where he found almost second family. Danny also loves M'gann, his amazing girlfriend, for who he'd go to the end of world and back. It was only fair he introduced one to another.

"Relationship reveal with a side of mind-control (or really the other way around)"

M'gann didn't need to be a psychic to see that something was wrong. She didn't need to be one of Phantom's closest friends and know that whatever was going on was against his basic principles. She maybe even didn't need to be his girlfriend, with added bonus of being intimitely familiar with his eyes, which were decidedly never red. Team was none of it, of course, so they assumed it was a villain attack. M'gann was all of that, so she could help.

Actively posted fics:

"GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice" (may change hah)

Young Justice wanted a chill afternoon for once, hanging out at amusment park. And then, Danny was attacked by some freaks in white suits. Well, it seems there are villains to make fun of and... did somone mention ✨an evil lab✨? part 1, part 2

"There is only so much you can do for the dead"

Phantom asked for a small favour from the Team. Just one room, for one day. Easy enough. The room he planned to spent his Death Day in. Nobody was quite ready for that. part 1, part 2

"Count the freckles, connect them like the stars"

Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him Virgo (part 1), Pisces (part 2)

Stuff that I shared snippets of/will get updated maybe some day:

"Danny and Wally are chaos incarnate"

"Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures" (Dani x Damian little fluff)

"Danny, the Young Justice member" random ideas part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Mr. J'onzz meet ghost and a half

Christmas in Mount Justice

The stuff I have somewhere on paper and would love to share if asked.

Make yourself at home, and I hope you’ll like it here!

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Blue Lions Gaming Headcanons! Dimitri: Games where Dimitri can go to town on enemies seem up his alley. He'd probably play Dynasty Warriors or maybe even Yakuza, but I think he'd be a huge Soulslike fan. Especially Elden Ring. Dedue: While Stardew Valley might be a good fit for him because of his love for gardening or cooking, I think Wingspan is a better choice. This game, about collecting birds, requires a lot of patient and planning—something a seasoned chef and gardener like Dedue would have in spades. Felix: He's a fan of Shadow the Hedgehog and Call of Duty, but not for the reasons you might think. Felix wouldn't like Shadow the Hedgehog because you can use guns in it, but would enjoy Call of Duty because it reminds him of the former. Otherwise, he enjoys any Sonic game with Shadow in it. Ingrid: Definitely a Zelda fan, especially the more traditional titles like Ocarina of Time. Any entry where she can ride Epona is higher in her personal tier list. Annette: Annette feels like a puzzle game fan, particularly Portal or maybe Ghost Trick. She's found out how to optimize all the solutions and acheives world-record speedrun times without realizing it. Mercedes: Mercedes will say, "Let's play a relaxing casual game!" and whip out a Mario Party. It's relaxing to her when she plays, but she's a star-stealing fiend who secretly relishes the thrill of dominating others. Sylvain: Orc Massage. Ashe: He'd also be a Zelda fan, but lean more toward Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom because he's fond of the freedom the openness provides. Ashe and Ingrid have passionate discussions over linearity but remain respective of each others opinions.

.

[triforce-of-mischief]

When You're Ready

Summary: A portal drops the Chain in the middle of a quarantine zone, where they are required to receive vaccinations in order to proceed. Warriors doesn't want Legend to go ahead until he's mentally prepared.

Warnings: trypanophobic character, needles

Words: 1040

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

Legend didn’t take the news well.

When they reached the edge of what turned out to be a quarantine, the guards posted there informed them that they would not be allowed to pass until they were vaccinated against the illness that the portal had already exposed them to. Warriors flinched at Legend’s outburst, at the harsh threats shouted at the bewildered strangers. Before he could step forward, Time was there, a firm hand clasped on the teen’s shoulder.

“Legend,” Time said quietly. “Leave them be. It’s not their fault.”

Legend froze instantly, shrugging himself free and nervously backing away from the stares of the younger heroes who didn’t really understand. Warriors intercepted him, wrapping his scarf around him like a shield.

“We need time to consider it,” Warriors said. “Is there somewhere we can sit?”

They were led to a small room, sparsely decorated with a few chairs and couches. The rest of the chain were filed, one by one, through a door in the far wall. Warriors spoke privately with Time and Sky, then joined Legend on a couch where he was hugging Four. The elder heroes left, then Four with Twilight, and Warriors and Legend were alone.

Legend stared unseeing at the floor, and Warriors didn’t have to touch him to know that he was shaking. Legend reached for his hand, and Warriors took it.

“Do we have to go now?” Legend asked, his voice painfully small.

Warriors squeezed his hand. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Legend shook his head, letting his hair shroud his eyes.

“If it helps,” Warriors said, “Sky offered to learn how. If it would be easier, to have someone you know and trust…”

Like that day in the med tent, Warriors himself an island in a sea of strangers.

Legend thought for a few minutes, and Warriors patiently let him. “Y… yeah. I don’t- if Sky can-”

“He can,” Warriors gently confirmed.

“Does… does that mean we have to go now?”

“Not until you’re ready.”

They sat for a while longer, and Warriors tried to talk him through some of the breathing exercises they had practiced during calmer moments. Legend grew fidgety, but Warriors thought that was better than shock.

“W-what if we wait here too long? Won’t you get hungry?” Legend asked once, and Warriors was prepared.

“If I do, Time can sit with you instead. You can take as long as you need to, bud.”

Soon after that, Sky opened the door. Legend nearly jumped out of his skin, pressing against Warriors’ side, and Sky gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you think you’ll be ready soon…?”

Warriors expected Legend to shake his head vehemently, and prepared for another long wait. He was surprised, almost unpleasantly so, when Legend glanced at him before speaking.

“Y-yeah. I’m… ready.”

He didn’t sound ready in the slighest, but Warriors knew that the freedom of consent went both ways. He stood and waited for Legend to follow, pretending to ignore how the teen immediately leaned his full body weight against him.

“Come on then,” Sky said with a kind smile, and Warriors could hear a whine building in Legend’s throat as they walked to the next room.

He squeezed Legend’s hand, a silent question.

Legend squeezed back and didn’t stop.

Much like the med tent, the room was rudimentary and simple. Sky showed them to a low cot, probably for ill patients, that could easily fit Legend and Warriors beside each other. Legend knew what to do; he didn’t look at the medical tools and he hid his face against Warriors’ shoulder as soon as they sat down. His hands hesitantly reached out as his voice was muffled in the captain’s scarf.

“Wars, can you-”

“Yeah, bud,” Warriors breathed, and pulled him into a loose hug. Not tight enough that Legend felt restrained, but close enough that he could find comfort in his warmth. Warriors breathed, slow and steady, and felt Legend mimic him as Sky silently brought the tools closer.

Legend whined as Sky pushed his sleeve up, and Warriors hummed reassuringly. “He’s just going to clean your arm, Lege, you’re okay.”

Legend’s nails dug into Warriors’ own arm, but he didn’t ask Sky to stop.

“Keep breathing with me,” Warriors said as Sky picked up the syringe. “You’re doing so well. Deep breath in, deep breath out…”

Legend still didn’t react, right up until the needle pierced his arm. His measured exhale was interrupted by a sharp, high scream, and pleas that came too fast for Warriors to respond. “Wars- Wars, WARS!”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re all done,” Warriors said, because he already was. Sky had been fast, and he hid the syringe and bandaged Legend’s arm as Warriors continued his reassurances. “You did it, Lege, I’m so proud of you for being brave.”

Legend only sobbed harder, pressing into Warriors like he hoped he could disappear. Warriors rubbed Legend’s back, repeating his soothing words, and looked up when Sky walked to the other side of the room. The knight retrieved a glass of water and brought it over, waiting patiently for a calm in Legend’s crying.

“Here, Legend,” Sky said when the teen pulled away to gasp for breath. “Can you drink this for me?”

Legend let Sky press the glass into his hands, and Warriors held it steady as he drank. Legend’s tears slowed, and he swallowed hard as he lowered the glass from his mouth. He hiccuped, swallowing a few more times before he could speak.

“Sssorry… I- I wanted to be brave but I wasn’t…” Legend whimpered, and Warriors felt his heart break for the kid he was trying so hard to help.

“You were brave, Legend. You were so brave,” Warriors said, letting Legend collapse against him once more. “You found courage because of your fear, not despite of it. You know that better than any of us.”

“That’s right,” Sky agreed. “None of us expected this, but you still had the strength to get through it. We don’t think less of you for needing a little more time.”

Legend sniffled, his voice small against Warriors’ chest. “Do we have to go to the others now?”

“Not yet,” Warriors promised. “Not until you’re ready.”

[canichangemyblogname]

Doctor’s office has a new system that is absolutely dumb af.

Their patient portal when they check you in requires them to add a “preferred name.” It can’t match your legal name and you can’t just… leave it blank. Their system gives an error and they can’t finish checking you in if it’s left blank or if the entry matches the legal name.

So my “preferred name” is “None” because the nurse got fed up with the fact the system wouldn’t let her continue to check me in and entries of my legal name weren’t accepted.

So, the doctor greets me, “Hi [legal name], what brought you in—oh, sorry, I see that your preferred name is ‘none’?” *she looks me over, puzzled*

“No— the system wouldn’t let the nurse check me in without one, and it also wasn’t accepting my legal name.”

[24-7-testing]

The end of the year can be tough for a lot of people. My goal? To make it a little bit brighter. That's why I'm pleased to once again announce the return of...

The Portal Holiday Spirit Initiative!

To help bring a smile to people's faces this year, I will be sending FREE Portal-Themed Holiday Cards to anyone who asks for one! There are a few changes to the cards this year because life has gotten very busy for me and I have less free time than in years past.

This year there will only be one card design, featuring artwork from one of the Portal Fandom's awesome artists! The cards will still be customizable to any Winter Holiday of your choosing, but you'll have to wait for your card to arrive in order to see how (the method takes cues from the Portal game's sense of humor, so it will very much be on-brand).

This year is also special because it is PHSI's 5th Anniversary! I can’t express the amount of thanks everyone who has participated over the years, whether you've reblogged and shared, requested cards, helped with artwork, or helped in other ways. You all deserve my recognition and thanks for volunteering your time, talents, and support! Thanks for helping to make PHSI a special fandom tradition!

If you would like to receive a Portal-Themed Holiday Card:

Visit bit.ly/PHSI-2023 ...

Answer the questions in the forms...

Wait for your card to be sent!

It's that easy! Card Requests are now open, and close on December 20th in order to give me enough time to make and send all the cards before the end of the year. Please submit sooner rather than later so I have time to finish them all!

Also, please don’t be afraid to request a physical card if you don’t live in the US! The card service I've chosen says they ship worldwide and, while it might take a bit longer for you to receive your card depending on what country you live in, the cards will get mailed to whatever address you provide, domestic or foreign. Last year I mailed/emailed a total of 164 cards to Italy, Canada, Germany, England, Poland, The US, The United Kingdom, Brazil, India, and Slovenia!

I’m happy to be a part of the Portal Fandom and hope to bring a smile to others in the Fandom this year! Making and emailing Holiday Cards takes time and effort, and sending physical cards is expensive. While it isn't a requirement to receive a card, I would greatly appreciate if you'd like to give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else's. Please visit ko-fi.com/247testing and click the Donate button if you want to help out. 

Also, feel free to DM me with any questions or comments. Thanks!

Answers for common questions and concerns under the cut:

Worried about providing a mailing address, for whatever reason?

PHSI has an eCard option! All you need to provide is a name for me to call you by and an email address to receive your card!

Worried about requesting a card because you don’t live in the US?

PHSI mails to any address provided, whether domestic or foreign! However, please wait patiently for your card, due to the current global rate of shipping.

Worried that you can’t give $4 to cover the cost of your card or someone else’s?

Requesting a card from PHSI has been and will always be FREE! However, giving $4 to the initiative helps me pay for the printing service and postage to mail physical cards (visit ko-fi.com/247testing if you’d like to contribute). I gratefully appreciate any contributions received, even if it’s just a comment saying thanks!

Worried because you don’t know how to support the artist of the card you received?

The artist’s social media is listed on the back of every card featuring their artwork. Look them up, commission them, reblog their art, and support them however you can!

Worried because you haven’t received your card yet?

Double check your email inbox and junk folders. I send everyone an email that either confirms your Holiday Card has shipped or includes your eCard! Physical cards take 1-2 weeks to arrive. If your physical card fails to show up after the first week of January, please reach out to me and I’ll send you a replacement eCard!

Worried because you received your card and don’t know what to do now?

Make a post about it! Include pictures, videos, or anything you’d like, and tag me in the post (@24-7-testing) so I can reblog it! If you don’t want to show your card off, that’s ok too!

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭. 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 ✨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭✨

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The invention of telehealth apps was not given the praise it was due

Before the existence of such things, Emmrich would have had to schedule an appointment with his doctor, leave early (or try to book a banked day - nearly impossible), drive across the city, sit in a mint-walled waiting room full of sniffing people that all but guaranteed he’d be sick within a week, and then get ushered into a freezing cold, windowless examination room, false hope that the doctor would be by soon cruelly dashed when he inevitably waited for another forty-five minutes.

But now - and oh he was so clever for this - now, he only needed to punch in his credit card information to an app, submit a request for a consultation with a doctor from the comfort of his office between arrangements, while sipping tea and catching up on emails while he waited.

Granted, the ensuing instant message conversation that ensued with the physician that ended up with his consult request was as awkward as it would have been in person:

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Riley, I’ll be assisting you today. What is the nature of your medical concern?

E. Volkarin: Good afternoon, Dr. Riley. How are you today?

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I’m very well, thank you. How can I help?

E. Volkarin: That’s wonderful. And your spouse is keeping well, I trust?

There was a long gap between messages after that, for some reason, and he almost wondered if the connection had been lost when finally a reply popped onto the screen.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I’m divorced. What do you need?

Mortified that his polite attempt at cordial small talk had blown up in his face, Emmrich ignored the text that Rook had just sent him and forged onwards.

E. Volkarin: I'm terribly sorry to hear that. My apologies for my brutish assumption.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Sir, please tell me the reason for your appointment or I'm ending the consult.

E. Volkarin: Right. Apologies again.

E. Volkarin: I've recently found myself in a budding romantic relationship with a lovely partner. It's a fledgling romance, as we've only truly solidified our intentions within the past few days, but I feel that it has the potential to become quite serious - much to my surprise.

E. Volkarin: We work together, you see, and I've never been one to wade into the treacherous sea that is workplace relationships, but in this case, I can't help but feel that I might regret not throwing caution to the wind to explore the places she and I might go together if all goes well.

He had been part way through explaining how he and Rook met, and was listing out the bounty of character traits he was smitten with when Dr. Elizabeth Riley replied again.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I have other patients I need to see today - I'm ending the chat. Please resubmit your request for a consultation through the portal when you're prepared to tell the assisting physician what medical assistance you require.

Emmrich backspaced the entire wall of text.

E. Volkarin: Wait!

E. Volkarin: How best to put this? Forgive me for the awkwardness of the situation.

E. Volkarin: It would be apt to say that she's rather in her salad days, and I am not.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Sir, you're going to have to be more clear - I have no idea what that means.

E. Volkarin: It’s a Shakespearean idiom - I thought you might be a patron of the arts. No matter: what I mean, is that she’s in very good health and clearly takes care of herself despite questionable nutritional habits. She's very energetic, and has a keen mind. Her stamina is most impressive.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Mr. Volkarin.

Realizing that Dr. Riley was on her final straw, Emmrich had uttered a pained groan and resumed typing.

E. Volkarin: There is somewhat of a difference in our ages - nothing suspicious or unseemly, mind you - and I am afraid that I might be unable to keep up with her needs in an intimate setting.

If a sinkhole had opened underneath the funeral home and swallowed him then, he wouldn't have complained.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley is typing...

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: You want a prescription for Viagra?

E. Volkarin: If it isn't too much trouble.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Do you take any nitrates or medication for hypertension?

E. Volkarin: No.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Do you have a heart condition, high blood pressure, liver or kidney disease, blood cell or bleeding disorder?

E. Volkarin: None.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Have you ever had a heart attack, stroke, or an ulcer?

E. Volkarin: No.

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: I'm faxing a prescription for Viagra to the pharmacy you've listed in your profile. It'll be ready by the end of the day. The pharmacist will provide usage instructions.

E. Volkarin: That's wonderful! Thank you very kindly for your efficient assistance!

Dr. Elizabeth Riley: Goodbye.

He had been initially off-put by the doctor's chilly demeanour, stewing over it throughout the remainder of the day between the suggestive text messages Rook kept sending him, but as Rook pulled into the parking space outside of the pharmacy near his house, he supposed he would be rather annoyed too if a stranger took it upon themselves to assume he was married.

She put the car into park and her hand went for the ignition, but halted when Emmrich said, "No, no, darling - you just wait here where it's warm: I won't be long."

He'd formulated this stop at the pharmacy during the drive to his home after their brief stop they made at her apartment for her to quickly pack a bag for the weekend.

'I realized I don't have a spare unopened toothbrush for you to use,' he said. 'We'll just make a quick stop and I'll pick one up for you.'

It was almost too perfect of an excuse - and it turned out that it actually was, because when he said that, Rook just shrugged and said, "It's no big deal - I don’t mind using yours.”

Suppressing the shudder wrought by the idea of putting another person's used toothbrush in his mouth - even if it was someone whose tongue had been there - he smiled indulgently at her and impressed that it was no trouble, and he had a few other small things he'd been meaning to stock up on anyway.

He returned to the toasty car minutes later, carrying a reusable shopping bag containing a variety of completely innocent and utterly non-suspicious items: the promised toothbrush, a bottle of the same shampoo he'd seen Rook use that morning (in case she wasn't fond of his or it made her hair greasy), a carton of orange juice (no pulp - texture issue), a box of Band-Aids, some Bactine, a sleeve of red licorice for Rook (he’d seen her snacking on it at her desk a few times), and of course the stealthily acquired prescription bottle of Viagra that he had secreted within the inside pocket of his coat.

He navigated as they drove to his townhouse, and she ventured down the wide streets lined by healthy, well-established trees, paying attention to the road, but also to the perfectly landscaped lawns and beautiful estate homes built on massive lots and illuminated with aesthetically pleasing decorative lighting in the form of replica iron lampposts and deliberately angled pot-lights. She didn’t say anything as she took in a well-dressed couple strolling down the sidewalk with a gangly purebred-something - surely worth thousands - dressed just as smartly as its owners in a little yellow sweater and booties, but her eyebrows certainly raised a little.

He may have found himself in a place in life where he could afford to live in a neighbourhood like Darrowley, but he never felt like one of its residents. Didn’t quite fit in with the upper crust and snobbish folk that saw fit to raise a fuss during each quarterly Home Owner’s Association meeting about some perceived slight or another: so-and-so’s car in their driveway is an eyesore and detracts from the ‘visual harmony’ of the street so it should be mandatorily parked in the garage. ‘Those people’ down the lane planted a spruce tree, and everyone knows those aren’t allowed because the acidic needles kill the grass and make the surrounding lawns look like shit… and so on.

Having been raised in poverty, it was true that he enjoyed the finer things in life now that they were available to him, but he liked to think he was still humble… different from ‘old money’, purely because he made a deliberate of remembering what it was like to have nothing rather than pretending that success and wealth were what he was owed - he just hoped that Rook saw that too. Hoped that she didn’t think look at him and see one of them.

“I’m excited to meet Manfred,” Rook said, taking the next left per Emmrich’s instructions. “I always wanted a cat but my dad was allergic - or said he was, at least.”

“He’s a wonderful companion,” Emmrich bragged, unable to help himself. “Though he can be rather… unconventional in his approach towards new people in his home— take your next left and follow the bend at the end of the street.”

Rook’s frowned and she adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “Uh… what do you mean by ‘unconventional’?”

“He’s not anti-social or aggressive - just… very curious. I apologize in advance for his lack of boundaries. It’s something we’ve been working on, but frankly I don’t entertain often, so he isn’t exposed to people as frequently as perhaps he should be in order to refine his social skills. End of the street on the right, darling - the one with the porch light on: the unit on the end.”

As they drew close to the driveway, Emmrich reached up and hit the button on the remote garage door opener he kept clipped to the sun visor.

“I’ve never parked in a garage before,” Rook said, leaning over the wheel and nibbling on her lower lip.

Luckily Emmrich’s was well-organized, tidy, and free of any clutter or things lining the walls that might present as obstacles.

“You’ll be fine,” he encouraged. “Just use enough gas to get over the curb, and then keep your foot off of it and over the brake as you pull into the garage. You won’t hit anything - you have an abundance of space.”

“I keep imagining myself accidentally flooring it and driving through your wall,” she laughed nervously, but she followed his instructions, mounting the curb smoothly and slowly inching into the garage until she was satisfied that she was far enough inside that the rear bumper wouldn’t get swiped off by the door closing on it. She cut the ignition and dropped her hands to her sides, resting her head against the seat and letting it fall to the side so she was looking at Emmrich, her grey eyes taking on an enchanting slate colour in the garage light. “Well, you’re officially stuck with me for the weekend.”

“So I am,” Emmrich shed his seat belt and reached up to press the button on the garage door remote again, leaning forward and planting a long, sweet kiss on Rook, lowering his hand to curl his fingers into her soft dark hair as the door lowered behind them.

She sighed into his mouth and he felt tension dissipating from her body as she relaxed into his touch like she was finally at peace for the first time that day… he supposed he was too, when he thought about it: sitting in his car in the garage, having just arrived home for the weekend, all night and all day ahead of them to just… be.

It was a familiar sense of domestic comfort that Emmrich was no stranger to, having had his fair share of relationships before. But the fact that this wasn’t new to him did little to change the fact that he adored this feeling: the very idea of having another person to share his space and his thoughts with felt… it rather felt like home, didn’t it?

He gripped her hand in his and squeezed before opening the door. “I’ll carry your bag.” He popped the trunk where the shopping bag and her duffel were. “Let’s introduce you to Manfred, shall we?”

As soon as Emmrich opened the door inwards, Rook was greeted by the pulsating trill of an alarm system. It was dark and the light from the garage spilled inside, reflecting eerily off of a pair of wide, saucer-like eyes that were rapidly moving towards them with the pitter-patter of soft feet and a veritable chorus of chirps and chatters until an incredibly lean and leggy beast emerged from the black, brilliantly white with perfectly round green eyes that immediately locked onto Rook and did not leave.

Rook stepped out of the doorway to give Emmrich access to the keypad on the wall, and he disarmed the alarm while Manfred approached her without hesitance, looking directly up at her, intensely cyan eyes perceiving her with a level of comprehension and scrutiny that was not what one would expect from even the most discerning of felines.

“Mraow.”

A short, clipped utterance delivered with the same cadence one might use if they were to ask, “Who are you and why are you in my house?”

Manfred continued, looking over his shoulder at Emmrich, circling in place, then looking back up at Rook, chittering all the while as if to say, “And where has he been? I’ve been left to my own devices since last night, did you know that? Was that your doing?”

“Hello, Manfred,” Rook said, her tone gentle and friendly. She bent at the hip and held her knuckles out to the cat as Emmrich flipped on the hallway light and watched on.

The sleek creature did not move closer, but instead stretched out his neck towards the hand offered to him, lips curling slightly, ears flattening against his head, lending him an decidedly skeletal appearance: a construct of bleached bone brought to life. He sniffed at Rook’s fingers eagerly - thoroughly - like he was gleaning her entire life story from the exposed digits.

“I knew he was lamp-eyed from the pictures you’ve sent me of him, but I didn’t think his eyes were always like that,” she chuckled, watching the studious twitch of Manfred’s pink nose and the slightest narrowing of those eyes as his assessment continued.

“He’s an unconventional looking cat, but I find him to be quite distinguished,” Emmrich beamed, closing the door and locking it. “He’s not to everyone’s taste, but he suits me just fine, and I him.”

“He is very handsome,” Rook agreed, flipping her hand so her palm was facing upwards. She could feel little huffs of air as Manfred sniffed at the pads of her fingers. “You said that he more or less adopted you?” Rook flinched when Manfred, apparently satisfied with everything he could learn from her right hand, lit from the floor and neatly landed on the small gray console table next to her by the door only to immediately started pushing his nose into the sleeve of her leather jacket. He inhaled deeply, lip curling back even more, teeth slightly bared - they were very sharp.

Emmrich stroked the curve of Manfred’s back and the cat’s head jerked back as if to say, ‘Do you mind? I’m busy,’before resuming his incredibly in-depth exploration of Rook’s sleeve.

“Quite right. He started haunting my front porch when he was just a kitten. I thought he might belong to someone else in the neighbourhood who saw fit to let him outside, so I would leave out a bowl of food for him from time to time, thinking he was being properly cared for somewhere else, but when he kept coming back I began to have my doubts about that. One day he ignored the food completely when I opened the door to his customary summons and instead, he sprinted inside the house. It was then that I realized that this place had become synonymous with home to dear Manfred, and that he didn’t actually have one.” The warmth in Emmrich’s eyes as he recounted Manfred’s history was unmistakeable. “He’s a curious spirit - I believe he belonged to somebody at one time, and they found themselves unable to cope with his unendingly inquisitive nature. A shame, but their loss turned out to be my gain in the end.”

Right as he said that, Manfred’s jaws clamped down on Rook’s forearm, the leather of her audibly popping as his impressive fangs punctured it.

“Ah!”

The bite wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but Rook knew that panicking would probably change that, so she forced herself to stay still.

“Manfred!” Emmrich chided, gently working the cat’s mouth off of Rook’s sleeve and batting away a probing paw with an ease that betrayed the fact that this wasn’t the first time he’d had to extract Manfred from something - or someone. “We’ve been over this before: biting is not how we make friends!”

Rather than fleeing at the rebuke of his unanticipated exploration, Manfred only licked his lips and sat back on his haunches, shifting his weight from foot to foot and hissing softly, head tilting Rook-wards once more.

“Oooh…” Rook winced, “I don’t think he likes me…”

“He likes you perfectly well,” Emmrich asserted, regarding Manfred with the benign but unamused expression a parent would regard a naughty child with. “Don’t let his hissing fool you - he simply enjoys relying on that particular vocalization amongst those in his repertoire… I suspect he likes the way it sounds.” He shot Manfred another chastising glance and took Rook’s hand, lifting her arm to examine the place where Manfred had bit her, warding off another casual attempt to snag her sleeve - with claws this time. “Are you all right?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine - didn’t even break skin. Lucky for me it’s a thick jacket.”

Emmrich’s thumb ran over the fresh puncture holes in the worn black leather, lips pressing together in a thin line as he hummed. “Be that as it may, I’m tremendously sorry for the damage he’s done to your jacket.”

“Damage?” Rook laughed, pulling her arm from his hand and turning on in place (sidestepping another swipe from Manfred, who seemed disinclined to leave his post on the table.) “Have you taken a good look at this thing? It’s been stomped on, dragged around, burnt by clumsy cigarettes…” she indicated a piece of leather about half an inch wide near the zipper that had torn when she clambered over a chain link fence instead of going the long way around yearsearlier. “… snagged on fences, practically marinated in beer and sweat. Trust me: it was ‘damaged’ well before Manfred sunk his fangs into it.”

“Be that as it may,” Emmrich repeated, still looking at her like he’d offered great insult to her mom or something. “I’ll gladly have it repaired.”

Rook made a dismissive sound and let the jacket fall down her shoulders and into her hands so she could hang it on one of the hooks on the wall, feeling Manfred’s eyes on her the entire time. “With all the things this jacket has seen, you’d be better off just buying me a new one.”

“I will… if you want me to.”

Rook paused, her back still to Emmrich. When she turned away from the coat hooks to face him, he was absently scratching Manfred behind the ears, his other hand in the pocket of his suit pants, an oddly serious expression on his narrow face.

“You’d buy me a brand new leather jacket because your cat gently savaged mine?” She lifted an eyebrow. “You know I got it practically brand new for only fifty bucks at a set sale for a movie that was filmed in town?”

“If you want me to,” Emmrich repeated, his voice low, his rich bottle green eyes nearly as intense as Manfred’s.

Okay, so maybe there were semi-dubious perks that came with dating a person with the disposable income that Emmrich clearly had.

Something stirred within Rook. Something buried deep within the chaotic rubble of an adulthood which, up until this point, had been spent babysitting grown ass men: putting someone else’s aspirations and joy ahead of her own wants… her own fucking needs, because that was just how she was, wasn’t it? Forever watering herself down. Diminishing herself in the name of someone else’s self-worth; underachieving and overreaching like such things would earn her some sort of fucking award or prize in the end. Yet here she was at 25: financially and emotionally bled dry, in thousands of dollars of debt, boasting a double-digit credit score while collection agencies called her daily and sent her nasty letters threatening legal action.

Maybe it would be nice for a change to let someone take care of her. This wasn’t transactional: he wasn’t offering to buy her an expensive jacket in exchange for a sloppy, emotionally vacant blowjob. There was more to it.

But if she took him up on it, would that change? Would the dynamic insidiously shift until she found herself in a place where her autonomy was slowly whittled away by jackets and gifts and financial stability, until one day she woke up and realized she was totally, completely, and entirely reliant on a man? — something she swore she’d never be.

The correct and right thing to do in this scenario, would be to decline: giggle coyly and say ‘no thank you’ with a simpering and humble pout tacked on for good measure — the palatable, dignified response of a woman who would never dare take advantage of a man’s success - whether out of pride or manners… did it matter? A self-respecting woman simply wouldn’t, but she could certainly betray that self respect to act like a coquettish child just to save face.

Ha. That was fucking stupid.

“Yeah alright then: buy me a new jacket.” She crossed her arms and sat into her hip, taking in the sight of the handsome man petting his tiny furry murder-machine like it was no big deal. He was so… normal looking, wearing his funeral blacks, standing in the entryway of his enormous, fancy house that didn’t smell at all like mold or stale cigarette smoke. “That’s really sweet of you — thank you.”

He rubbed his thumb up the bridge of Manfred’s nose and the cat tilted his head upwards, big wet purrs issuing from him, and as Emmrich stood there, showering affection upon his slightly insane looking pet, he looked… pleased?

“It’s no trouble at all, darling. You’re welcome.”

Manfred eventually stopped circling Rook ominously after dinner, though he did insist on following her wherever she went, unwilling to let her out of his sight for even a moment.

"So: talking to the dead."

She broached the topic post-dessert ('nothing special' Emmrich claimed, 'just leftover banana bread I baked earlier this week), while they smoked on the patio of the small but private yard behind his unit.

"I prefer to call it 'corpse whispering'," he said, smoked trailing from the premium cigarette between his fingers. He'd seen fit to bequeath one unto Rook one too, rather than watching her choke down one of her dirt-cheap, half-sawdust 'cigarettes'.

"That's so dramatic," Rook snickered.

"Perhaps," Emmrich admitted, resting his elbow atop the arm that was crossed over his abdomen, looking dignified and elegant while he smoked in a way that Rook very much doubted she could duplicate. “It’s hardly as if it’s common knowledge anyway — I can call it what I want, so long as it’s within the boundaries of propriety, at least.” He took a drag, smoke drifting lazily above his head. “What did you want to know, darling?”

“Tell me about the first ghost you saw and spoke to? I can’t help but think that must have been terrifying for a little kid: was it?”

“Actually, no. The first echo I ever saw was that of a young boy who lived in the same orphanage as me. We were close in age, and formed a strong bond with one another as many of the children in the orphanage tended to do. Casper, was his name. He was bold and precocious where I was withdrawn and timid, and he seemed to take it upon himself to bring me out of my shell when I first arrived after the loss of my parents.” He extended his fingers, idly surveying his many gold rings on one hand. "He took ill one day and did not recover: the last time I saw him, he was being taken away to the hospital. He never returned to the orphanage. Not alive, at least."

Emmrich's words weighed heavily on Rook, and she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket - who would be texting her right now? She hadn't made any other plans this weekend. She ignored the urge to dip into her pocket and assuage her curiosity - this wasn't the sort of story one listened to while scrolling through their phone.

"He appeared at the end of my bed one morning, mere days after we were all told of his passing. All of the other children moved around him ignorant to his existence, but as he stood there and looked at me, and I looked at him, I knew that he knew I could see him." A sentimental smile pulled at Emmrich's lips as he lifted his cigarette again. "So he did what any lonely frightened child would do and asked if I wanted to play with him. And I answered like any lonely frightened child who had already lost his parents and was now dealing with the loss of his only friend as well: I said 'of course'."

Rook’s heart pulled at the mental image of a small boy utterly alone in the world, burdened with a cosmically unfair amount of grief when such things should have been mysteries to him for years at least.

“Imaginary friends are not at all uncommon for children to have. No one thought much of it - thought that I was merely an infant coping with yet another tragic death the only way I could at such a tender age. The other children already avoided me to begin with, so no harm was done to my reputation amongst them. And happily for me: Casper wasn’t imaginary: he was very real.” Emmrich exhaled, looking pensive as he stared into the dark, snow shrouded yard. “I believe the lingering imprint of his soul returned to the orphanage because he couldn’t bear to be alone - nor could he bear the thought of leaving me alone.”

Rook had not been expecting such a sad story - stupid, really: How could the origins of a child gifted with the ability to see the dead not be crushingly sad in some way?

She puffed on her smoke, and leaned back against the wall. “What became of him?” She already knew the answer to the question, but it felt right to ask.

Her phone vibrated again.

“As I mentioned to you last night, the imprints of those who linger are impermanent. Casper was my first conscious experience with the dead, and my first introduction to the fact that they too are as fleeting as the living.”

“Maker… I’m so sorry, Emmrich. That must have been awful.”

“Oh, no need to fret on my behalf,” he said, tone brightening as if she’d just apologized for spilling his tea. “Casper and I enjoyed each other’s company for the better part of a month after his passing, and there isn’t a single day that passes where I don’t look back on that time fondly. One day he was simply gone. I don’t think that any harm or suffering came to him - only what remained of his residual spiritual energy weakened and finally dissipated.”

“Yeah but for a kid to have to reconcile with that?” Rook hauled on her smoke and shuffled closer to Emmrich, partly to keep warm, mostly because she wanted to be close to him. “You can come to terms with something like that when you’re older and with like… therapy. But… but not when you’re fucking six.”

“An arguably unfair hand, but the one that I was dealt regardless,” Emmrich opined, snaking his arm around Rook and enshrouding her with his warmth. He looked down at her, illuminated by the dim porch light and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Besides, I think I turned out all right, all things considered…”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rook grinned, returning his embrace, basking in the sophisticated, gentlemanly scent of him that mingled with the stigma-drenched aroma of the thousands of chemicals immolating into the air around them. “It must have lonely for you, carrying that around for so much of your life.”

“Each of us bears our own burdens and tribulations, and my rare gift happened to be mine. I resolved early on to make the best of it and ultimately it lead me down the path of becoming a mortician, which has in turn allowed me to help hundreds of families over the years.” He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on a small bistro table by the door. “Aside from that, who better to help people cope with the seemingly relentless and disorientating agony of grief than one who has been exposed to its passionless magnitude before?”

Wow. This got dark.

“Yeah,” Rook agreed, knowing all too well about that passionless magnitude herself. “Makes sense to me.”

She let Emmrich go and reached into her pocket for her phone, ready to navigate away from the topic of death before she started oversharing again. Her face dropped when she looked at her screen.

“Maker’s balls,” she sighed, burning the smoke in her fingers down to the filter with one final haul.

‘Are u home? Can I come by? I wanna see u.’

‘I guess you’re not home. Ur lights are all off. When will u be back?”

‘cmon lovely miss noir dont leave a fella hangin. I’m just at the bar down the street come get a drink with me.’

“Fuck…” she breathed, reaching past Emmrich to dispose of her butt.

“What is it, darling?”

Concerned. Genuinely concerned - that’s what Emmrich was, and now she was going to have to let him in on this whole… mess - because that’s what it was.

“It’s nothing,” she said lightly. “Just… uh…” How fucking embarrassing... “Just that… that piece of shit ex-boyfriend I told you about yesterday. I broke up with him like five months ago and - he’s… he’s had some drinks, and sometimes he does this.”

“Does what?” Emmrich frowned, clearly not taking the hint despite her forced smile and the fact that she’d shoved her phone back into her pocket.

She opened the door and breezed past Emmrich into the warmth of the house where she shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her unlaced boots, careful to keep them on the mat so they wouldn’t ruin the hardwood. “Oh, uh…you know - he’ll text me or call me or whatever and act like a dumbass.” She left out the fact that he implied he’d been outside her apartment that evening.

She fished the phone out of her pocket again and pursed her lips as she re-read the messages, all from a random number not in her contacts. “I can handle it though, no need to like… knight in shining armour or anything. I don’t even give him the satisfaction of replying - I just straight up block the number and move on.”

Emmrich, who had followed her inside and taken her jacket, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs in the breakfast nook, looked unconvinced.

“Does this happen often?”

“No, now can we please not talk about it anymore?” Something in her expression must have registered for Emmrich, because he nodded once, let it go, and went over to the handsome milled walnut bar built into the wall near the living room.

Rook observed him as he busied himself with pouring a drink for each of them, silver hair catching in the warm incandescent light of the bar.

Her eyes followed the slope of his shoulders as he pulled glasses from shelves and uncorked a bottle.

Nothing about Emmrich could be described as ‘broad’ or ‘wide’. He was proportioned attractively enough, sure, but his physical charm was seemingly rooted in the fact that a creature as intimidatingly tall as he was had no business being so lithe and graceful: his narrow, waifish frame was a rebellion against nature… and it was very, very enticing.

Oddities and trinkets adorned the nooks and crannies of the bar in front of him: an armillary sphere, a Galileo thermometer; a shadowbox containing the iridescent carapaces of half a dozen preserved scarab beetles.

She wasn’t entirely sure why, but her throat tightened and she had to bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling as she watched the lanky man pour a measure of expensive looking brandy into a pair of snifters that were finer than anything she’d ever drank from.

How’d she go from Tommy to this? Did she even deserve to be fed thoughtfully made dinners and poured pricey drinks?

He corked the bottle and turned to Rook holding the crystal snifters. The look on his lined face wasn’t one of condescension or unwanted pity, but rather a polite expression of understanding.

“A digestif. I hope it’s to your liking,” he murmured, returning to the kitchen. “Not that… not that I’m trying to get you potted so I can take advantage of that fact, of course, I—”

“Thanks, Emmrich,” Rook interjected before he could properly carry on with his assurances that he wasn’t a debased rapist. She swept the delicate patterned crystal out of his hand and swirled the deep golden liquid within like she’d seen mobsters do in the movies. “Cheers, handsome - to a good weekend.”

Emmrich hesitated at first, his fingers curled prettily around the swell of the snifter. For a horrifying moment, Rook thought he was going to insist on talking about the situation with Tommy, but he seemed to think better of it when he raised his glass and softly met his rim to hers.

“To a wonderful weekend, darling.”

And that was exactly what it was going to be, she decided, her nose dipping into the snifter as she brought it to her mouth, the warm, ethereal aroma of the brandy doing an elegant foxtrot over her olfactory receptors. It tasted rich and luxurious and suited Emmrich: his cashmere sweaters and tailored pants and his fingers covered in gold. It imparted warmth and comfort like he did. Stable. Gentle. Safe.

Rounding the corner of the island, aware of Manfred leaping up onto a bar stool to keep an eye on her, she stood in front of Emmrich, looping her index finger through the belt loop of the casual chinos he’d changed into. His hand came to rest on her waist, his thumb slowly tracing the flare of her hip.

“Maybe I don’t have the greatest track record with the guys I date… but maybe that’s about to change…” she mused, taking in his distinguished face: sharp angles and planes that contradicted the softness of his heart, and betrayed by the deep smile lines around his mouth - chiseled into flesh by decades of kindness and compassion served up in the form of a simple empathetic curve of the lips. The crow’s feet around his eyes also gave away the goodness of him, for Rook knew that a person whose smile did not meet their eyes could not be trusted.

She could see herself reflected in the his gaze: wide-eyed, young - immature and inexperienced and unsure, even as she rose slightly on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

“My ghosts tend to hang around a bit longer than yours,” she set down her brandy and slipped her hands under his shirt, fingers trailing along the dip of his spine, tapping out some brand of bastardized morse code over the peak of each vertebrae. “And they rattle their chains a bit louder too, I bet…” She closed the distance between them, bracketing his thigh with hers, one hand still languidly roaming the expanse of his back while the other drifted over the distinct crests and valleys of the spaces between his ribs. “Do you still want me?”

“Of course I do,” he breathed, almost looking hurt that she’d even thought to ask, setting down his own brandy and removing his glasses before running his hands over her waist and up the small of her back.

Rook leaned into him slightly, capturing him in another kiss, the friction of his leg between hers sending a shiver up her spine. “Something about being in a kitchen with you really does it for me, apparently,” she observed, fingernails digging into his skin, and she rolled her hips just enough to relieve the ache at the juncture of her thighs, moaning softly against Emmrich’s lips.

“Does it?” He inquired curiously, tucking her hair behind her ear while tilting her chin up gently, and Rook couldn’t help but think he’d moved his leg forward ever so slightly. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips and she parted for him: she’d allow him unimpeded access to any part of her he wanted if he only asked - she burned for him in a way that made her feel fucking stupid.

“Mhmm…” she hummed, pressing herself against him with mounting desperation, clit throbbing; making no effort to disguise the way she was moving against his leg - well aware of the tightening at the front of his pants.

She kissed a line down Emmrich’s jaw, then his spent some time on his neck, causing his breath to hitch before he whispered, “I had no idea you were so passionate about the culinary arts…”

“Me neither,” she mumbled, nipping at the soft slightly scratchy skin of his neck - his five o’clock shadow was darker still than it had been this morning and she knew he was literally itching to shave, but wouldn’t dare allow himself to abandon her for something so self-indulgent.

She dragged her hand over his cock, and he groaned at her touch, pushing away from the island and swapping their places so she was leaning against it instead. His hands found her ribcage and he shifted her up onto the countertop, slotting himself between her legs to resume kissing her feverishly.

Maker, he was so good at kissing: every time his lips crashed into hers, tongue stroking past her lips, hot, heavy breath feathering across her skin, her stomach jolted and sparks of pleasure suffused through her entire being.

Pushing up her shirt, he unbuttoned her jeans and dipped his hand inside, bypassing her underwear and uttering a quiet, pleased sound when his fingers encountered her slick heat.

Rook gasped and flung her arm to the side to brace herself on the cool surface of the counter when the tips of Emmrich’s fingers pressed against her clit, and she felt her wrist brush one of the crystal snifters hard enough to send it toppling to the floor where it landed with all of the predictable finality of shattering glass.

“Shit!” She breathed, going rigid, Emmrich’s hand still down the front of her pants. “I’m so sorry… I’d better… I’ll… Manfred.”

‘I’ll clean it up: wouldn’t want Manfred to hurt himself,’ was what she was trying to say.

“Leave it,” Emmrich said, moving up her neck. “He doesn’t care for brandy - he’ll give it a wide berth…” his teeth scraped over the skin under her ear. He slipped a finger inside of her and the willowy muscles and tendons of his forearm tensed. “I’m sure you can only imagine the misadventure that led us to that particular discovery…” He leaned part of his weight into the inside of her left leg, opening her wider, keen to move on from the brandy incident. “Ohhh… you’re so warm, darling. So tight…”

Rook could only whimper in response as a second finger joined the first, stretching and filling her so wonderfully until she could feel the metal of his rings against her skin. She threw her other arm over Emmrich’s shoulders, the scent of the spilled brandy rising into the air to mix with her fragrant arousal.

She bucked against his hand, chasing every bit of friction she could earn and whining into his shoulder when each time she tried to grind against the hand that was responsible for her bliss, he’d pull away slightly, depriving her of what she sought - taunting her - before returning and imparting even more intense sensation.

“Emmrich…” she entreated, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You teased me all day,” he said, the smarminess of his tone not diminished by the intimate sussuration of his words, imparted so tenderly into her ear. “It’s only fair I return the favour…”

Ohhhh you bastard…

She had. She had teased him relentlessly: had sent him a picture of her skirt hiked up, a dark stain soaking through the front of her thong during her break… along with more than a few colourful suggestions of what they should do later.

He’d staunchly refused to rise to her bait for the entire day, and apparently this was why: he had collected each lurid, flirtatious message and stored them in his pocket for later - leverage to turn to his advantage, because now she was sitting on his natural quartz countertop with her legs spread open as he tormented her with his fingers, dragging her right to to the edge and then backing off with almost infuriating efficiency.

She moaned his name again, back arching, toes curling against the cupboard doors as he stroked her g-spot. She clenched around him, a sharp gasp spilling from her lips, and once again his ministrations cruelly receded.

Emmrich’s voice rumbled approvingly in the depths of his chest and he shivered against her, thumb dragging so, so fucking slowly over her clit, sending her arcing up further into his arms. “You’ve no idea how much I enjoy your pleasure…” he breathed, “Every twitch and tremble - every little sound you make…”

Rook made a sound that might have been an attempt at his name.

“Teasing or not, you’re so perfect… especially when you’re like this. Such a good girl…”

A ragged gasp ripped from her at those words - so sinfully delivered in a tone unlike anything she’d ever heard from her kind, cordial mortician.

No one had ever said that before: never called her a good girl - and she’d never aspired to be labelled as such, operating up until under the belief that people who were into such things had deeply seated issues that only therapy could resolve.

“Holy fuck…” she panted, floored by the effect those words had on her: partly confused, partly ashamed… entirely aroused.

She was a good girl. She was a good person. She worked her ass off and paid her bills. She said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and didn’t toss her cigarette butts on the ground. She was polite to waitstaff and held doors open for old ladies. She laid her own happiness and aspirations down before other people like a coat over a mud puddle so they wouldn’t get their fucking feet dirty, just to have the satisfaction of knowing that she was - at the very end of the day - good.

It was about fucking time someone else recognized that she was, in fact, a Good Girl.

Emmrich appeared to share the unspoken sentiment, looking rather pleased with himself as he extracted his hand from her pants and started pulling them down her legs, mindfully sliding the other brandy snifter out of harm’s way as she raised her hips from the counter briefly to assist.

The stone was cold under her bare ass, and the goosebumps that rippled over her skin were born of a combination of the jarring temperature and Emmrich’s tongue ghosting over her swollen clit as he knelt between her thighs, staring up at her with an unmistakably lewd glint in his lust-blown eyes.

“You smell divine,” he declared, sinking soft, sweet kisses into the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. “You taste divine. I can’t get enough of you, my darling Rook…”

He shrugged his shoulders under the backs of her legs and parted her with his fingers, his nose rubbing against her clit as he pressed his flattened tongue against her, licking up the not insignificant amount of moisture pooled in and around her entrance, sounding as charmed as ever to make the acquaintance of her pussy.

“Fuck!” She whispered shrilly, carding her fingers through his hair while he took his time, eyelids sliding shut as his mouth shifted here and there, seeking out every single aspect of her labia; lips periodically closing over her clit to suck gently before drifting elsewhere.

It wasn’t that all of the sex she’d ever had before was bad. It was just that it wasn’t this.

He was actively ruining her for anyone else ever again with each perfectly placed flick and stroke of his tongue.

He had described himself as ‘familiar with the finer points of anatomy’ during dinner the night before.

His tongue laved over her, then into her.

Is he fucking ever, she thought, hips stuttering against his mouth as he feasted on her like she was actually the third course of the night and the banana bread was the most clever red herring that ever was.

She felt the tug of his lips sealing around her clit again, and he bobbed his head against the engorged organ, the very tip of his tongue pressed against the underside of it, maintaining a consistent, solid rhythm as Rook’s fingernails scrabbled over the smooth surface beneath her. Her breathing was pitched and ragged as she writhed in his grip, cursing, crying his name, and moaning loud enough for her voice to echo through the main floor.

“Cum for me, Rook…” he beseeched hoarsely, parting from her for only enough to make his desire known, gazing up at her, lips and chin shiny with her slick. “Cum in my mouth like a good girl.”

“Oh… fuck!”

Release splintered through her, brought about by the sheer eroticism of the command and the ruthlessness with which his hot wet mouth plundered her. Her voice strained and then broke, her hips jerking sloppily as her fingers tightened in his hair and she felt sudden warmth as she gushed forth, rivulets of sweet liquid trailing down towards her ass and dripping from Emmrich’s chin, plummeting to the ground in small drops like a welcome summer rain.

“Maker! Emmrich!”

He fumbled for her hand, brow furrowing as he moaned into her, gathering her palm to his and locking his fingers between hers, squeezing assuringly - talking her through it wordlessly while his mouth was still occupied. He held on tight while she rode out her orgasm, encouraging squeezes eventually replaced with the comforting stroke of his thumb until her muscles relaxed and she melted into the counter, her head coming to rest on the hard cold stone, legs dangling over the edge, spread out like this year’s uncooked Wintersend turkey.

“Holy fuck…” she whispered again, blinking up at the ceiling as her limbs continued to tingle.

“Such language, dear,” Emmrich purred from between her legs, gracing her thighs with more grateful kisses, palming her smooth belly.

“That’s your fucking doing…” she breathed, accepting his assistance when she started to sit up and he guided her upwards, his hand still holding hers. She kicked her feet lazily through the air on either side of Emmrich and pulled him into a somewhat dopey kiss, tasting the remnants of herself on his lips and tongue; smelling herself on his moustache and his skin.

“I think I’ll tease you more often,” she decided, kissing the well-defined curve of his chin and caressing the side of his face. “Time for bed?”

They were both aware that sleep was not on the menu. Not for a while yet, anyway.

“If you insist,” his face split in a wide grin that touched his eyes differently than she’d seen before. “Up the stairs, the door at the far end of the hall - I’m going to clean up this glass first and feed Manfred.”

He helped her down off the counter, careful to guide her away from the pool of brandy that was still slowly spreading past the shattered snifter, and then picked up her jeans from the floor and neatly folded them in half before handing them to her.

She padded towards the stairs, looking over her shoulder at him, her face flushed and glowing.

“Only a minute, darling," he smiled after her.

She was a good girl.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! Sorry to bother you with this - I checked your FAQ and MCAS tag and if the answers are there already I apologize for missing them! But I was wondering if you have a masterpost or similar with basic info on MCAS (what it is, how to figure out if you have it, what to do...) anyway thank you for posting so much about this, I'm learning a lot ^^

Hello! I don't have a list because if I started typing one out, I'd never stop. The Healthline article about it, however, is fairly comprehensive for the basics.

One thing the article doesn't list is that MCAS can also be a source of deep, deep tissue pain (sometimes I swear it's coming from my bones). Some recent research has linked unstable mast cells to fibromyalgia, which is why you'll often find a lot of anecdotal stories online about the two being co-morbid. MCAS can also be more likely in people with EDS or hypermobility spectrum disorder and can sometimes also be a source of dysautonomia. (Honestly, it's a bit chicken vs egg sometimes.)

They may have updated their criteria since the last time I checked, but the American Academy of Allergy and Asthma & Immunology used to list anaphylaxis as a requirement for diagnosis, but that is not true.

Many people experience MCAS without ever going into full anaphylactic shock.

They also used to stipulate that diagnosis was based on elevated tryptase tests, which is not accurate for MCAS. The tryptase tests are meant for diagnosing mastocytosis, which is like the big cousin disorder of MCAS. Most knowledgeable MCAS doctors now diagnose based on a history of symptoms and response to elevated doses of h1 and h2 antihistamines, as well as other mast cell stabilizers.

TMS for a cure has a lot more info, as well as a patient resource portal that includes a list of physicians, support groups, and ER protocols.

I'd highly rec having a read-through at some point.

Hope that helps!