sandradaffodils

- Rafayel eyes Valko's tail for paintbrush bristles. Valko is willing to relinquish fur he brushed out of it for the cause, but Rafayel isn't allowed to pull the fur out, otherwise he will be banished from getting any more ever again.

- Zayne actually likes to help with brushing Valko, especially if Valko goes full wolf, in which case you really appreciate the help on getting through all the fur on that beast. By the end, you have enough fur to make another werewolf. Even Rafayel insists you throw some of that shit out, cause he's already getting a lifetime supply of bristle material with less than half of that mess.

- Rafayel joins in on washing Valko's wolf form, but only the part where he can get the wolf drenched in water and slather him with bubbly shampoo. The mess and the wet dog smell, however, have him dipping out of the activity early. Caleb helps with the rest.

- Do they think Valko's wolf ears look stupid? Xavier - Yes. Zayne - No, he thinks they're cute. Rafayel - Absolutely. Sylus - No, he likes playing with them. Caleb - Yes (he is jealous).

- Xavier can and will use Valko's wolf form as a bed.

- Valko and Sylus both see their bodies as weapons and this will result in them wrestling. Zayne has banished them from the living room for this. More often than not, the wrestling results in activities that are not family friendly.

- Valko is the unofficial community human trash can—Anything you don't want to eat, you give to him. Zayne offloads so many carrots onto this man's plate, Caleb had to intervene. Valko needs the energy for his wolf form, so he doesn't care how much extra food you give him, he'll eat all of it.

- Thank god your dog with separation anxiety is a cognizant man and you have 5 other guys for him to play with, otherwise he'd tear up your house, waiting for you to come back.

- Valko howls a lot during the full moon. Thankfully, your neighbours can't trace the racket back to your house and so the noise complaints are fruitless. Rafayel hates the howling by principle. Zayne has an issue with it due to it disturbing his sleep, which he already gets little of, so you buy him earplugs. Caleb gets so mad his toring chip has to knock him out. Xavier can sleep through anything. Sylus is not asleep either way but he does think it's funny when he has to take a call and people ask him why the fuck do they hear a wolf in the back (if the noise bothers him, he just puts on noise-cancelling headphones).

- Valko has encouraged all of you to try howling with him sometime. Everyone except Rafayel was eventually convinced. Rafayel claims that as a proud Lemurian, he will not be participating in werewolf bullshit. Valko is actually on board with the reasoning.

- Valko gets along with Zayne and Sylus first, then Caleb, then Rafayel and finally Xavier. Xavier is purposefully hard to win over, because he really wants to make sure the new guy is safe for all of you before he accepts him. Also he was here first, fuck you. Valko put more effort in winning over Zayne, while Sylus put in more effort to win over Valko (he wants that puppy so bad).

- Caleb envies that Valko has a real tail and ears connected to his body that he can feel. Valko envies that Caleb can make the best puppy eyes out of the polycule.

He had locked eyes with the dark-haired one that spilled cold divinity. The man had raised a hand to reach out, a thread of glowing blue stemming from his palm to slowly reach you. And your pain had seemed to ebb briefly.

Staryus had done the same, and watched as a thread of something crimson slithered out of him to coil with the thread of blue. Yellow had followed, and not too long after that, purple and orange.

Together, these men and he had offered you what was essentially a length of rope. And you had reached out to grab it.

That was the past. The present was much less dramatic. Much less- though not completely- harrowed by worry for you. He had learnt the men's names, had listened to the Foreseer's brief explanations about the temporary server, and had done his part to bring forth two other versions of himself.

It has been a... struggle, being around others that stuck out as much as he did.

Staryus flicked his tail, smile curling at his lips as he watched the... 'shitshow' that had become of the kitchen. The Xaviers had offered to be the ones to cook for today's meal. And as much of the cooking had been delegated to the Colonel- who was slowly teaching X0-2 to cook- no one had argued. Not when it was the Colonel's turn to watch over the screens as you slept.

You were still very young, after all. And the Colonel had been the most shaken by your near death at the hands of EVER, even if a couple months had passed since then.

Speaking of said Colonel...

"What the fuck, Xavier."

The Lightseeker stood in the middle of the kitchen, wok smoking ominously. The King and the... Favourite were standing in the utter chaos of the single cooking area in this space between Space and Time. His blue eyes rolled over to the Colonel, who looked very displeased.

"We were cooking."

"You were burning." Staryus couldn't help but chuckle at that, to which the Colonel's violet gaze snapped to him. "You were here and you didn't stop them?"

"I didn't get here long before you did, Colonel." He arched an eyebrow. "And well, I would have stopped them if things got too bad."

"This doesn't count as too bad for you?"

"Only the wok is on fire."

The Colonel sighed as the Lightseeker slowly put the wok down. Amusement curled inside of him when he watched the King attempted to slowly slink out of the Colonel's gaze. The Favourite slowly put down the cilantro.

Staryus let his amusement show with a chuckle when the Colonel's eyes snapped severely to the herb.

"Out. All of you." Power weighed down the room harshly, without care for any of them. "Get out of my kitchen."

The Xaviers didn't argue and slipped out rather quickly. Staryus just laughed as the Colonel shoved him out with a glare.

"Tell me if you need help cleaning up, Colonel."

"Fuck off."

~♥~

See, Staryus was solitary. He was unused to being 'cared for'. He was not used to camaraderie. Not being part of it. He didn't think what he had with you was camaraderie, per se. It was love. It was affection. It was indulgence. He didn't know if camaraderie was involved.

He had seen it in the soldiers that had hunted after him and you, of course, but he had never experienced it.

The Zaynes watched over all of them. It made sense, considering the Foreseer's prophetic powers and his strangely in depth knowledge about all their roles as Constellations in the confines of the System. But Galen? The Grand General? They took care of the others too, despite all of them being as capable and dangerous as the Zaynes were.

It was Galen that slipped to the Colonel in the aftermath of the very first Plausibility Storm. It was the Grand General that monitored the moods of the others, pulling the Sanctarch away for a simple strategic game when the other got antsy. It was Foreseer that ensured the King ate.

Perhaps it was just something that was fundamentally part of Zayne that spanned beyond reincarnations and timelines.

That nature of theirs- the cold, nearly distant caregiving- was something that Staryus puzzled with often. Yes, all of them had the same goal of keeping you safe, but they weren't close with each other. Yet the Zaynes seemed to care for them in a very familiar way.

It was disconcerting. The way the versions of himself eased into the cool- nearly indifferent- offerings of the Zaynes. The way the Archfiend spoke with the Grand General on many matters of art and politics. The way Galen and Tartarus formed a mutual understanding through the similarities of their worlds. And the way the Foreseer roped Staryus himself into conversations.

He hated divinity. He was the Fiend that devoured it, after all. For all intents and purposes, his entire existence was to bring the end of Philos. He had a tendency to destroy everything he touched, as opposed to the power of creation the Zaynes seemed to utilise.

It wasn't him looking down on himself. It was simply the truth. Destruction and chaos had its place in the universe. Every version of himself would be like this, after all.

At odds with divinity, closer to the Abyss than the Heavens. And yet, the strain of divinity within the Zaynes were never as sharp and distasteful as Astra's. Yet, the divinity coursing through the Rafayels was warm and inviting.

"Staryus."

"Foreseer."

Said man- demigod, tether to the divine being that was the greatest threat to you- sat next to him, mindful of Staryus' tail that had started to shift and wag.

Staryus cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher what the tether wanted. You were peacefully asleep, giving the others ample time to do whatever they wanted. It was his turn to watch over you as you slept.

You had just arrived at the Academy your parents had sent you to, and he worried that you may not be sleeping well. You seemed to be more honest when you weren't conscious. You cried sometimes during your sleep.

"I thought you'd be with X0-2."

That version of Caleb was innocent in a way Staryus nor any of the others were. Oh, he was still lethal and deadly, but there were many experiences that he had been robbed of. He quite literally only knew violence and you.

"The Sea God wanted to show him art." The Foreseer said, as he slipped something out of his sleeve. "And I wanted to see you."

"Careful, Foreseer." He grinned and let his Eye come to the surface. "That sounds awfully flirtatious of you."

The Foreseer gave him an unimpressed look and pressed a tin of something in his palm. Without much thinking, Staryus curled his claws around it. He arched an eyebrow at the- he sniffed slightly- medicinal thing.

"For your horns and claws." The Foreseer elaborated. "Your tail as well. They look as though they have seen better days."

Ah. He looked at his claws. Normally, he had coated them with the abundant Abyssal essence that had existed in his version of Philos- as opposed to the decaying world of the Lightseeker and the Favourites along with the King's land of undying dead- but that was less than possible here.

"What is this?"

"Corrupted divinity." His eyes snapped to the Foreseer, who simply regarded him impassively. "My own, to be exact."

That was... Staryus didn't like how he was feeling. He didn't understand. The divine tended to dislike him. They had never been kind.

He hadn't expected for any of them to corrupt their own power to offer him aid. To help at the expense of themselves. But then again, the Foreseer was the most cryptic of them all.

"And they called me mad." Staryus contemplated briefly before pushing the tin of medicinal balm back into the Foreseer's hands and brought forth his wings. "Come now, Foreseer. I won't be able to reach my wings on my own."

~♥~

"What are you doing, Abysswalker?"

Staryus peered at the sketchbook the tether to the Deep Sea was working on. He knew that the Rafayels were artists, but he also knew that all of them were rather possessive of their works in progress.

He expected Abysswalker to snap his sketchbook shut, but to his pleasant surprise, the purple-haired man simply hummed and glanced at him as he continued to sketch.

"Sketching, of course."

Staryus said your name questioningly, asking Abysswalker if he was drawing you. You were always the Rafayels' muse, after all. The you in the fragile mortal form you had now, the you they had all seen through the person-shaped tear, and the you that they saw in the very beginning of this strange cohabitation... they were all you, and the Rafayels captured all of that.

"No. Not this time."

That was when Staryus gazed at the scene before him.

You were fast asleep on the private plane your kids had gotten for you to travel back to Linkon in. They had all worried over you, and had opted to simply have a... 'sleepover'- a term the Colonel used- in the main 'operations room'.

It was almost shockingly soft, the way everyone was positioned. The Lemurian Sea God in all his tailed glory was lounging on top of Galen's legs. The Archfiend was sprawled on the various blankets with Galen as they were both peering over a book. The King had his eyes closed and head tipped backwards as Tartarus braided his long hair. The Grand General and High Marshal were playing a game that had rules that were not familiar to Staryus himself. But the two of them seemed to enjoy themselves, just as much as the Sanctarch seemed to enjoy making snippy comments on their actions and as much as the Favourite seemed to like observing.

X0-2 and the Colonel were speaking in hushed tones to one another, which concerned Staryus. The Calebs were predictably unpredictable. And from the way Foreseer was observing them, he assumed the demigod was having the same thoughts.

"Them?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?" The man- the assassin- glanced at him and smiled. "You know better than anyone that there's no real reason for desire."

Fair point. Staryus tipped his head in acknowledgement.

"It's peaceful. And this is the first time all of us spent time like this. That itself is worth documenting."

"Do you want us to do something like this more often?"

"I found- before I was called here, of course- that the mundane is worth remembering." Abysswalker was the gentlest out of the Rafayels, but that truly wasn't saying much. There was something about him in particular that seemed to cherish the small things. "I'd prefer it if the distance between all of us were smaller."

He considered the tether's words. Staryus was... solitary. And yet, he enjoyed conversing with the others. He liked it when they shared a space.

"Perhaps... that wouldn't be too bad."

Staryus curled his claws into fists and resisted the urge to tidy up the blankets and cushions they were all settled on. He was fine with his own nest and hoard in his 'room'.

"Dragon, when we next get the chance, I hope you'll show me your full form."

"Oh, if you wanted to see me naked, you could have just said so."

Abysswalker laughed and pat at Staryus' thigh.

"If I wanted to see you naked, I would have seen so already. No. I want to see you in all your draconic glory."

"One day." Not now. Not when the madness of his full form still clung to him. He wasn't afraid to shift. He was simply cautious. He didn't want to risk destroying this place and leaving you defenceless. "I'll let you see."

~♥~

"Your hoard really is something," Tartarus said.

Staryus hummed proudly as he guided the versions of himself through the many chambers of his personal area of this space between Time and Space. Everything he had owned before his death and his subsequent travel was here.

"Ah, I vaguely remember this." Archfiend picked up a dagger. The very one you had tried to use to stab him in the very beginning of his memory with you. "They tried to use it on us, didn't they?"

"Yes." He could still see it in his mind's eye. The way your voice and actions seemed both defiant and afraid, and the contradictory way the 'you' peering through the human-shaped fracture looked amusedly enamoured as he grabbed you and held you before you could do anything. "Your memory has improved."

"Somewhat. The breaking of the soulbond between me and them fractured a lot of the smaller details."

Staryus couldn't help but rumble in discontentment. Your soul had been linked with his. Bonded with no regards to the whims of time and space and incarnations. You had promised your soul to him. But the Archfiend and you- because in the end, all versions of you were You- had broken it, only to reforge it once more.

"He said he was sorry." Tartarus said, stopping before Staryus could make an attempt to maul the Archfiend again. "Well, as much as we do, anyway."

Staryus huffed but relented. It was all in the past, and your soul was still linked with his, despite the 'hiccups'.

"They thought it was a dragon-killing blade." He laughed as he gently took the hilt of the blade from the Archfiend with his tail. "Nothing can kill a dragon."

"Unless it's the sword that they pushed into your heart."

"Yes, unless it's something from them." He glanced at the Archfiend. "Our stories do end in death."

"Not mine," Tartarus interjected with a sharp, self-assured grin.

"No, not yours."

"Why did you bring us here, Staryus?" the Archfiend asked as he guided the two versions of himself along the less personal gems and treasures.

"A treasure for them. We need something that would be worth putting the shrine they are making for us."

"That doesn't explain why you invited us here." Tartarus' tone was sharp. Not in an attacking way, but in a thoughtful one. "You're a dragon. You don't like others in your lair."

"But you're not others, are you?" Staryus grinned sharply. He was more aware of his part of the game. He was, essentially, the beginning of them all. The one that linked you to each and every version of himself. "We're all the same person."

"With significant differences," Tartarus said.

"But enough similarities." Archfiend mused with a nod. "We do share much of the same thoughts and plans."

"True." Tartarus relented. "We could have been like the Rafayels."

"The divinity and the Deep Sea God does that. He ebbs and flows unpredictably and so does his tethers," Staryus said, remembering what the Lemurian Sea God had let slip at one point. Some of him were harsher and more controlling than others whilst some of him were kinder and softer.

"Your trinket to them needs to be perfect."

"Our trinket, Tartarus." Staryus grinned. "Three of the same thoughts are better than one."

"You're not wrong," Archfiend said, the smile in his voice very clear.

"Working together is much beneficial than working against each other."

At Tartarus' words, Staryus chuckled and let his tail swish back and forth.

~♥~

Sylus POV, watching as the Calebs seethe in jealousy (after he kissed R's neck). Grabbing the Colonel but the chin and telling him to play nice. An in depth look into jealousy ().

"Control yourself, Colonel."

"Control myself?" The man- the one so distinctly mortal out of all of them- snarled, violet gaze piercing and accusatory. "After you didn't?"

Staryus had pressed a kiss onto your neck after him and the other versions of himself chose your traditional robes for you. And that had sent the others in a jealousy frenzy. With the Calebs being the most vocal about it, of course.

"They had no qualms about it."

"You had no right to-"

He could feel the eyes of the others on the imminent explosive argument between him and the Colonel. To the man, you were a pseudo younger sibling that he loved in all sorts of ways. He knew you weren't quite the 'person' he grew up with, but you were all he knew.

The Colonel was the defender. The stalwart guardian. He put you- your safety- above everything else. Himself, your own happiness, and your freedom.

Staryus disagreed with him on that. Your comfort and happiness were the most important things. He agreed with the Calebs on the world being much less important than you, but he didn't agree with caging you.

The Calebs and the Rafayels were similar when it came to you. They got violently jealous and possessive. The former mainly stemming from the brutalities of his childhood and the latter stemming from the divine possessiveness.

The Xaviers weren't too far behind. They were simply much quieter in their jealousy. Most of the times, they were more jealous of each other than they were of the others. The Zaynes were quite similar to them in their silent jealousy.

The versions of himself though? They didn't particularly care. You could have anyone and everyone you wanted. As long as he could have you in a romantic capacity, he didn't mind.

With a quick snap of his arm, he shot out a clawed hand to grab at the Colonel's chin to pull him down to where Staryus sat at his own little control panel.

The Colonel made a sound that sounded nearly animalistic even to his ears.

"Play nice." He snarled back. "They do not belong to you."

"As they don't belong to you."

His Eye flared, and he could feel the conflicted feelings. Yes, the Colonel was furious at Staryus' kiss to your pulse point. But there was something confused in there too. A jealousy that didn't seem to revolve around you. Not really.

Hm. Perhaps...

Staryus pulled the Colonel's face closer to his and curiously pressed his lips against the man's.

Almost immediately, the Colonel shoved him away with profanities he didn't fully understand. The fury in the man's posture was apparent, but...

He laughed at the way the man's cheeks were flushed.

~♥~

Staryus watched the men- his fellow Constellations and watchers of your tale- exhaustedly continued to monitor you. The physically present version of himself had made a violent mark on you, which caused all of them to be on edge.

He didn't like it. The tension in the operations room. He didn't like how worn ragged all of them- including himself- were.

He closed his eyes and let the shift take over him. Let his claws sharpen further. Let his human face lengthen and harden into a large snout. Let his body elongate into a much larger, beastial one.

He blinked his eyes open and simply shifted- if he moved too much, he would risk destroying the screens, after all- and curled himself around all the others.

The crackle of your voice is shrill in your ears as it pierces the silence, that familiar dread cloaking your body like the darkness that spilled from the corners of your room.

It has been a hard week— Long hours at work at night, only to rise again in the morning to go to school at the community college in your small town. Then it was a quick stop to grab lunch, go back to work and squeeze in your homework during your shift, then return home and collapse on your unmade bed you had left in a hurry that morning.

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat.

You had no time for yourself. No time to feel your age, no time to socialize, no time to spend with friends. You bury your face into your trembling fingers, a dry laugh escaping your throat. As if time was the only issue you had. Even if you had time, you had no one to spend it with.

It was different now, being thrust into the throes of adulthood. While your old friends could keep up with the changes, you lagged behind, too scared to make that leap with them. They continued on their journey, leaving you in the dust. It didn’t help that now, as you sat in your childhood room, looking around at the posters you had no energy to take down that you put up at 12, or the ratty stuffed animal perched on your desk you got at 7, how childish you felt. It was as if you were in your own personal tomb to lay to waste. You humor yourself at the thought of what it would say, maybe have your name written in fancy script, and underneath.

“Here she lies, the girl who lived and has absolutely nothing to show for it.”

You shoot up from your bed, a ragged breath escaping your lips with a pathetic wheeze. Hell fucking no. You shake your head, as if the dark thoughts would fly out your ears.

There was no way you were going to let yourself spiral again, especially when you have tomorrow off. You reach for your phone, the cool plastic of your case soothing your feverish fingers. You try not to think about your faint reflection in glass—a disheveled woman with tired, puffy eyes, and snot dripping down her nose and down onto her crumpled uniform shirt— right before as your screen comes to life.

You wince at the last thing you had open. It was what had you spiraling in the first place. An image of all your old friends together, celebrating a proposal. You are quick to close the app.

“Distraction... Distraction…” You mutter under your breath, reflexively opening TikTok as you begin your mindless scroll.

“-Follow to watch as I travel around the world in 100 d-“

“-here’s how to change your life in 5 easy ste-“

“-Loneliness is an epidemic in our gen-“

You close TikTok, the lump in your throat growing so large it could choke you. “Fuck this shit.”

A quick plundering through multiple apps, and it’s clear whatever spies on you through your phone wants you to be miserable, because nothing can soothe the massive ache in your chest. Just when you think sleep would be the best option, a notification pops up on your screen.

Where did you fly off to? When you get back, I have something fun planned for us.

You can’t help the twitch of your lips as you instinctively tap on it, the familiar tune of a woman singing fills your room with floaty notes as you log into the game.

I might not have friends, you humor, but I’ve got fake boyfriends, The least they can do is cheer me up. You think wryly to yourself as the game loads.

Really, it is the least they could do. You have spent an ungodly amount of money in the game, and if you were going to pay for this sliver of fake happiness, those pixelated men better be able to provide.

You are greeted on the screen by Sylus in a god awful outfit. A weak giggle escapes your lips. He makes a comment about your period being soon. You grimace. Maybe this is all just bad PMS?

The thought floats around your mind as you do your dailies, feeding on the small doses of dopamine each ping that rings in your ears. After they’re completed, you're back at the destiny cafe, clicking through the other love interests to check their outfits, too. Maybe you’d get another good laugh out of seeing whatever combination the in-game AI threw at you today.

Too bad the rest are proving to be kind of boring. Xavier is in his hoodie, Zayne is rocking the shades, again. Rafayel is wearing his birthday outfit. You finally reach the bottom of the list, clicking on Caleb.

Surprisingly, he seemed to go all out. Donned in your favorite outfit, wearing a bandage on his nose and the Catch-22 hairstyle, he raises his eyebrows at you through the screen. He’s talking, saying dialogue you’ve heard what feels like thousands of times, but you can’t help but admire the artistry of the 3D model in front of you. Broad shoulders lead down to veiny arms, his hair swaying with each adorable quirk of his head. What really grabbed your attention were his eyes, the way they light up with each press to the screen, as if they are studying you through the glass.

“These developers deserve a raise,” you hum out in appreciation. You feel a pang of envy that leaves as quick as it comes, only to be replaced by embarrassment.

Despite all her trauma, you can’t help but want what MC has.

A stable job, a nice apartment, traveling, adventure, friendship, and a man, well, no- men. Men who have sacrificed it all just to stand by her side, who are satisfied with any form of her presence.

How would it feel if someone cared for you like they did? You knew they weren’t realistic or even an ideal relationship. Between lies, stalking, and possessiveness, there huge red flags you’d never let fly in the real world. That doesn’t stop the allure of them all. Their complete devotion would leave anyone swooning, but right now it only causes a tug of desperate yearning that makes the sourness reappear at the back of your throat.

Because you aren’t MC, you are, well— you. Just you, who works a mediocre job and lives a subpar life, staring at a screen and interacting with fake men who are looking at you through the silver screen as if you are the center of their universe— as if you were her.

“If only you were real.” you mutter, but shake your head again. This is supposed to make you happy, you remind yourself.

You click on tete-a-tete at the bottom of your screen, and Caleb grins with kind, pixelated eyes.

“Wanna hide what's on your mind? It’s written all over your face whenever you pout or smile.”

“Sure, I guess,” you roll your eyes. You always feel a little ridiculous using this feature, but you continue, pressing on ‘something bad happened.’

“Who’s the unlucky person that upset you? I’d like to get to know ‘em.” His gaze hardens, looking beside himself; before returning to soft eyes that flicker back to you carefully.

’it involves people’

The option bubbles disappear, and your phone freezes for a moment. You didn’t notice till now, but your phone felt hot to the touch, as if you had left it all day to bake in the sun. Its warmth in your hand is becoming barely manageable. You jab your thumb on the screen again with purpose, but none of your taps register.

“Please, don’t do this to me now! come on-”

You’re about to give up on the whole damn thing. It’s as if your phone was begging you to not use it at this point— urging you to give into despair the universe decided to curse you with. God, maybe this is a sign you need a new hobby? Maybe something boring, ordinary. One that doesn’t make you speak to your screen in the middle of the night, sounding like a crazy person.

Just before you go to close the app, it springs back to life, and Caleb's model begins his animation sequence— only this time, it's one you’ve yet to see before.

Your skin prickles as he monitors you, frowning. The more you watch him, the more the feeling of unease sets into your shoulders. You can’t stop them from rising up to your neck, as strange tightness burns in your chest like boiling acid.

Those motion capture actors really put their all into making it feel real. Maybe too real, as you watch Caleb frown deepen, looking not at you, but up behind you.

Slowly, you turn to follow his gaze.

An old Levi Ackerman on the wall —covered in a thin layer of dust— makes you laugh at the strange coincidence. Swiveling your head back at the screen and finding your next text options with Caleb's avatar standing idly, cycling through the same animation only makes your laugh come out in a warble.

You let go of your breath, hot air and a nervous laugh slipping past dry lips, “I’m losing my shit today...”

Yeah, pickleball or a morning running club doesn’t sound too ridiculous now. Even as you humor the thought, you feel your pulse through the blood rushing to your finger pressed against the glass, heart fluttering rapidly against your ribcage as you click on the next option.

’too much drama when it comes to people.’ Your laughter bubbles up your chest roars back to life, a mixture of sadness and sardonic self pity creeping back into your body.