Disclaimer: All the Avengers and references to SHIELD belong to Marvel Comics.

Note: This can be taken as a sort of sequel to Proprietary, if you so desire. That said, it should be just as readable as a stand-alone fic.

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Nobody really knew why one of Earth's, and arguably the Universe's, most powerful super-villains had suddenly ended his decade long quest for a throne and joined SHIELD instead.

Thor, when asked, would assert the invincibility of bonds formed from millennia at one another's side. Even the virtuous Captain Rogers can't help but throw an incredulous look at the Asgardian prince for that one.

Rumor, as always was less kind. Most people just assumed that Loki's public malevolence was an exaggeration. He was Thor's brother – "adopted" Agent Barton would always correct – and no one thought the almost nauseatingly moral Asgardian would accept someone so truly wicked. And anyway, he had been going up against the Avengers for years without any particular success, so even if he was terribly evil, he wasn't exactly good at it.

That, you disagree with. You think that the reason Loki always lost was because he wasn't completely convinced he wanted to win.

You mention it to Matt once, but he looks aghast, and insists, "You're out of your mind. Maria says they hate each other. It's obviously some kind of trick."

You put shaving cream on his pie for that one, the workers at the cafeteria have always like you.

The thing is, anyone with eyes could see that Thor and Loki were close – "This foie-gras is truly unpalatable, brother." "Yes, because clearly pop-tarts are the epitome of ambrosial cuisine, you uncultured swine." – the two bickered incessantly but even the heaviest of disapproval on Thor or disdain on Loki was always accompaniment by flashes of fond affection.

Honestly, if one disregarded all the murder attempts, it seemed like any sibling relationship. So you're pretty sure, at the end of the day, Loki just couldn't bear fighting against Thor anymore.

Not that Loki's sympathy for his brother means the god of mischief has pure intentions toward the rest of them, especially since he doesn't seem keen on explaining his sudden change of heart.

Him saying things like, "I am the one that created your team, and it is therefore my right to tear you apart," probably doesn't help the situation. All things considered, he was edging on both Dr. Banner and Agent Romanov as they played an increasingly contentious game of chess, so something really should be said about context.

In the end, the official line is that Loki had finally realized that it would be much easier for him to be recognized as the singular conqueror of the Avengers if he was at their side to prevent anyone else from achieving the same.

Of course, that still means Loki harbors at least some desire to defeat the Avengers.

So SHIELD basically just prays that they haven't made a huge mistake with this one.

Loki's defection to the side of righteousness does not suddenly turn him to an angel. He was still an agent of chaos and old habits are difficult to completely forget.

The sudden appearance of the demi-god in his full Asgardian regalia was enough to send any cadet who had the misfortune of being on the grounds scurrying away.

"Brother," Thor, who had been running training drills, placates, "This reaction is unnecessary."

Loki's eyes, so vividly green, narrow. "Is it. IS IT?"

Thor's hands are up in the gesture of universal surrender, but it is too late. Loki's blast of magic hits him squarely in the chest, and Thor had barely lifted himself off the ground before his younger brother is upon him, knives in hand.

"You locked." green flash. "My cat." Blocked knife. "In a closet."

"It was an accident!" The god of thunder wails. "I didn't realize he was in there!"

The first thing SHIELD had done after announcing Loki's new presence on campus, was to send an academy wide notice that no one, no one, upon pain of death by megalomaniac super-villain was to touch, speak of, or even look at the cat.

Thor, meanwhile, had scrambled away for long enough to stretch out his arm and summon Mjolnir. Of course, you still maintain that everything would have been fine if Agent Barton hadn't happened to be out on the grounds.

Loki catches the arrow, obviously. The resulting explosion, however, is a different matter.

When you finally come to, it is yards away from where you had previously been standing. There is a huge crater in the middle of the training yard, a medical team running about, and Loki kneeling beside you. You flinch back.

"Be at ease," he sniffs regally. "I am simply assessing your damage. Humans are distressingly fragile."

His armor is a little scuffed, but there is no other indication that he had been at the center of a blast radius only minutes before. Thor, you notice, fares similarly well and is off on the opposite side of the field arms waving expressively at a very defensive Barton.

Loki sees where you are looking. "I shall have to kill the lout later, it seems." He sounds disappointed as he straightens up and beckons one of the medics over. "This one is hale. You may release her."

There were a few minor injuries, no fatalities, and they reconstruct the training grounds. You hear one of the senior instructors later saying that Stark was happy to finance it all, that if he had to repair the entire SHIELD Academy ten times over it would still be cheaper than what New York cost, and that someone ought to tell Thor he no longer needed to bond with the damned cat.

Regardless, the next time Loki goes after Thor, you notice, it is in a much more isolated location.

Anyway, following that incident, the SHIELD brass apparently decides that giving Loki an opportunity to "get to know" the cadets would discourage him from putting them in harm's way.

No one actually expeced him to take the class he was assigned to seriously. Especially after it appeared on their schedule as Defense Against the Dark Arts, instructor Luke Skywalker.

"Maria says Dr. Foster suggested it after Thor had mentioned Skywalker was one of Loki's kennings," Matt had explained. "Seems to find the whole thing terribly amusing, especially since he apparently doesn't understand the references."

Given all this, on the first day of class, most people don't even expect him to come.

Everyone still shows up, of course, on the off-chance he does.

He sweeps in right as the class is about to begin, and the entire room falls silent. Partly because this is still Loki, destroyer of worlds, but mostly, you think, because of what he is wearing. Loki has forgone his typical leathers for a pair of slacks and a button-down covered by a cardigan, the entire ensemble topped off with a tweed jacket complete with elbow patches. He couldn't look more like a stereotypical professor if he had googled it.

He must notice the staring, because he says primly, "I am informed by Dr. Banner that this is the customary attire for an instructor. Was he incorrect?"

The entire class shakes their head.

"Excellent." His smile is full of teeth, and while there is nothing overtly dangerous in it, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He moves to the center, too-green eyes surveying the room sharply.

"The delusional Captain seems to think that training you in the defense and recognition of seidr will prolong your miserably short lives. I have tried explaining to him that few humans have the intellectual capacity let alone the patience and persistence for this to be a worthwhile endeavor, that even millennia of bashing my idiot oaf of a brother's head against a wall has proved unfruitful, but he is regrettably insistent. Ms. Potts believes he is trying to get me to play well with others.

"Whatever the purpose, I am thus here. I have not the disposition to tolerate disobedience or trouble from lowly mortals. Any disruption will result in an expedient exit from my classroom. Are we understood?"

There is an immediate rush of nods, and Loki offers that smile again, before turning to the board.

You notice that everyone is diligently copying whatever Loki's writing.

It seemed that people were going to apply themselves this year, if only to avoid escaping Loki's wrath. Although you suspect that some people would be less successful than others.

Matt is the first unlucky one.

Sometime in the third week, it appeared that Loki was late to class. Most of you were setting up notes, waiting for him to show up, but one or two students were fooling about on their tablets.

Until, a voice hisses, "I believe that class began three minutes ago, Cadet Hill."

You all jump in your seats and turn to see that Loki had suddenly appeared behind Matt, bent so that he was practically speaking in his ear.

Matt, for his part, looks utterly terrified. "Yes, sir."

"And yet," Loki pauses, voice so soft that if the room hadn't gone dead silent, his next words would have gone unheard, "You are playing… Galaga, I believe it is."

Matt shrinks back, a squeak escaping from his throat.

"I had thought to have made my position on distractions very clear."

"Yes, bu—" Matt stutters before Loki hauls him up by the collar and flings him out the window.

The rest of the classes' eyes are glued straight ahead as Matt's resulting scream is covered by Loki beginning pleasantly, "I believe we are to discuss the use of cognitive recalibration as a corrective mechanism in cases of brainwashing."

You are all so frozen bolt-upright in your chairs that even Thor's entrance through the now broken window moments later was not enough to break your concentration on Loki's lecture.

"Its efficacy was first confirmed by Agent Romanov—"

"Brother."

"—during the Attack on the Helicarrier on May 4th, 2012—"

"Brother, a word."

Loki finally turns. "Truly, Thor, I'm trying to teach a class."

"I believe you dropped a student," The class finally feels safe enough to tear their attention away from the front of the classroom to see Thor standing by the window, Mjolnir in one hand with a whimpering Matt slung over his other shoulder.

Amusement dances across Loki's face, before it settles in an expression of apathy, "How utterly careless of me."

Thor's brow furrows. "He fell on top of me."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, brother," Loki dismisses airily. Matt is still mewling, and the mirth in Loki's eyes increases. "This one seems defective. You ought to take him to the healers."

"Loki—"

"Leave, Thor, I haven't the desire to suffer your inane bumbling."

Years later, after it saved your life, you would suspect that this entire incident was, at least, partly intentional. After all, none of the cadets in your cohort would ever forget anything related to cognitive recalibration.

"You threw my cousin out a window!" Maria Hill raged into the cafeteria two days later, followed by half of the Avengers.

If you had thought Loki's smile from class was terrifying, the grin he wore when he turned to face her has your amygdala screaming at you to runrunrun.

"I did not exacerbate any of his defects," the Norse God offers, the very personification of insouciance, before plopping a grape from his tray into his mouth. "In fact, I think it may have fixed some, he was quite the model student in class, today."

"That's besides the point," Agent Hill rages, her hands pushing into Loki's chest and forcing him back. Only Maria Hill, you think, would get away with such blatant physical aggression toward the resident demi-god. "We don't accept defenestration as a proper method of punishment at the Academy."

Loki simply raises an eyebrow. "I was misinformed. I had thought the purpose of the Academy was to prepare them for what they might face when they leave its walls."

Agent Hill splutters, but Tony Stark, who is utterly failing at choking back his laughter slings an arm over her shoulders. "Just be glad it wasn't a tower, Hill."

"Or the Helicarrier," Thor submits, brightly.

"Falls off the Helicarrier are the worst," Captain Rogers agrees, the seriousness in is tone belaying the smile on his face.

Fury's second-in-command looks at her team and then sighs, hands thrown up in the air. She gives Loki one last jab in the chest, "Next time my cousin is being particularly irritating, just follow protocol and give him a damned detention," and spins on her heel, stalking away.

Stark stays behind and accompanies Loki out. As they pass you, you see him throw a friendly elbow into Loki's ribs. "You're such an ass. Drink?"

The grin is still on Loki's face as he responds imperiously, "if it's all the same to you."

Which isn't to say having Loki at the Academy is always unpleasant. He is the God of Mischief, after all, and still finds unbridled joy in harassing members of the Avengers.

You have spent the night, quite against regulations (lights-out at 11PM) drinking and watching horror movies in one of the barracks. You know your trainers are going to make you pay for this in the morning, but all you and your friends really want right now is some food.

Which is why Damien is currently working at hacking the lock to the instructor's lounge.

"Well," a voice purrs from behind them.

The six of you freeze and slowly turn. No one else could manage to look so threatening in a pair of dark green kitten pajama bottoms, hair tousled as if he has just awoken, but there Loki is, face bright amidst the darkness, a smirk playing at his mouth.

He watches you all expectantly. "Well," he prompts.

"We were just really hungry, sir, and we know the instructors keep food in here and please don't kill us," The words spill out, tumbling over one another.

There's a long silence. Loki's eyes are glittering, and you have the horrible feeling that this is what prey must feel like right before they are eaten.

Finally, he twitches his hand. You all cringe back expecting pain and death, but the only thing that happens is that the door to the lounge slides open.

"I would try the cabinet on the top right." He strolls away with a slight bounce to his step.

The six of you go to the cabinet in question – pop-tarts, you register absently – but it could be cockroaches for all you care. None of you are hungry anymore, you just want to collect the goods and return to the barracks before he changes his mind.

None of it clicks until the next morning.

"LOKI!" An enraged God of Thunder slams open the lounge door. "RETURN TO ME MY POP-TARTS."

His younger brother has already fled half way down the corridor, an expression of utter glee covering his face, as he tauntingly cackles, "You must learn to take better care of your things, brother, I know not where they have gone."

Thor storms after him.

You, on the other hand, are exchanging looks of horror with your friends, and without a word you all hasten in the opposite direction

It turns out that not all of the upper echelon of SHIELD was in complete support of Loki's position at the Academy, and several were becoming rather vocal in their objections.

After what had been dubbed "The Pop-Tarts Incident" – although you would argue that the destruction of the third floor gymnasiums was equally Thor's fault in that instance – there was the Habanero Pepper Surprise, because Loki was apparently as well like with the kitchen staff as you were. Then there was Cat War II after Thor had apparently stepped on the poor thing's tail. And then, around Valentine's Day there was the thing with the malicious chocolate hearts – no one knew why it happened, or even exactly what had happened, but the main entrance hall was under reconstruction for three weeks after. Agent Barton's propensity to shoot exploding arrows whenever he saw the newest instructor hardly helped the casual destruction.

The tipping point, however, came the day Loki didn't show up for class.

Because, as it happens, he had abducted Agents Barton and Romanov, instead.

Apparently, Thor had very nearly come home that morning in a body bag after a miscued mission with the two. The ever-rational Loki, in turn, blamed them. And was preening about it on National TV.

The cadets gather around the giant screen in the auditorium and watch, eyes peeled.

Black Widow and Hawkeye are bound meters away from one another and slowly coming to from whatever magic Loki had used to subdue them. The aforementioned demi-god has his back to them.

He seems to know when both Barton and Romanov have awoken, though, because he slowly turns, face contorted, green eyes flashing, and this is worse than even the footage of him from the Battle of New York.

"You incapable, worthless vermin," he murmurs, and the control in his voice makes the entire thing more terrifying. Because Loki is beyond angry. This is rage, the rage of gods, focused and unyielding, and no human can hope to withstand its devastation.

"I knew it," Barton is shouting. "Knew you couldn't be trusted, knew—"

"Clint," Romanov cuts in, face expressionless as is her wont. She turns to Loki, eyes calculating, "Thor will be displeased by this."

"Thor is a trusting boor. And I have suffered your ineptitude for the last time."

"So you're going to kill us?"

A slow smile spreads across the demi-Gods face, cold and remorseless. "What a short memory you have, Agent Romanov."

There is a green haze around him, and when it dissipates, he is in his full armor. And –

"He has the sceptor," you breathe.

"Fuck." A voice behind you corroborates.

"Slowly," Loki draws out, savoring the way the blood drains from her face. "Intimately." He touches the sceptor to her heart. "In every way he knows you fear." The inhuman blue spreads to her eyes.

Agent Barton is desperately struggling against his bonds, cries teaming out, "No, Tasha, no, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so sorry." The sceptor is at his heart, now, and he falls still.

With a snap of his fingers the two agents are freed from their bonds. But they are his now, warily watching each other. Loki spreads his arms out, dramatically. "Showtime—"

Iron Man's propulsors catch him in the midriff.

Cheers erupt in the hall around you as the fight begins in earnest, Iron Man keeping Loki occupied while the Captain deals with the brainwashed agents.

Still, things aren't look great for Earth's Mightiest Heroes, especially when a legion of Doombots led by Doctor Doom himself, show up. He announces, "Doom will help defeat the Avengers," and then proceeds to shoot Agent Romanov.

Everything stops.

Stark flips up his facemask and says, apropos to nothing, "You really don't understand how this works, do you?"

Then Loki is shrieking, "You cankerous imbecile! She was Barton's."

And suddenly knives are hailing down upon Doctor Doom and the fight begins once more.

So, Agent Romanov ends up being fine.

The battle against Doom takes all afternoon and destroys a small part of Iowa – whatever Loki's homicidal tendencies, he managed to pick a fairly secluded area for Barton and Romanov to have their showdown – but in the end the Avengers come up victorious.

Loki's aid certainly doesn't hurt. He heals and releases Romanov and Barton, and although Captain America has to prevent Agent Barton from immediately (and a few times during the battle) shooting the Asgardian, the group manages to work together well.

"Stark, why isn't the beast here?"

"Don't call Bruce a beast, Rudolph."

"After the Candyland incident, we decided it best the Hulk not face you."

"Thank you, Agent Romanov, for not wasting our time with semantics — Barton, if you shoot that arrow at me, I do so swear—"

"Going to try to kill me again– hey, I had that one, stop taking hits meant for me, you antlered prig."

"Not the time, boys. Tony, we could use some smashing right about now."

"Aye aye, Cap. Calling Bruce in for the party."

"I still don't see how this is a party."

"GRRRRAAAWR!"

"Why is he—? Loki, watch out!"

"PUNY GOD!"

"Oomf! Call the—gah—monster off!"

"Uh, no, uh, buddy. Loki's a friend now. We, uh, don't smash friends."

"What if I—?"

"Clint, put the arrow down."

Agent Barton does land a shot near the end of the battle, but you're pretty sure Loki let him, that it is his way of tendering an apology for, you know, almost making him kill his best friend.

The mission report from Barton considers it as such as well, because for all that he calls Loki a "complete and utter maniac who ought to be thrown into the deepest cell and left to rot" he also concludes that "I'd rather have that territorial bastard on our side, because at least we know he'll protect us from everything else."

And it is this misplaced sense of possessiveness that is the problem.

Even Thor recognizes it. After explaining in no uncertain terms that Loki is to never blame his shield-mates for harm that befalls him, he manages to wrangle the god of mischief into seeing a therapist in hopes of finding a less destructive avenue with which to express his concern over Thor's well-being.

Of course, during this period, Thor also vacillates to watching Loki with almost sickening amounts of affection and pulling his brother into random embraces while saying things like – "You, brother, are an overprotective fool and you must never doubt how much I return your love." "Get off me, you clumsy oaf!" – so his disapproval of Loki's actions is hardly absolute.

Given that, SHIELD's wariness is, perhaps, appropriate. Because although Loki's controlling nature means that while he is on their side, he will safeguard them from all other enemies, he is still a threat. Probably SHIELD's most dangerous threat, and that is something the agency cannot overlook.

So they place Loki under suspension from all organizational activities until the Council can convene and determine the best course of action.

They still let him teach, though, because he's painstakingly drawn up a syllabus for the entire year, and no one really wants to see what he'll do if they tell him he has to stop.

And that's where things might have left off had Hydra not attacked the Academy.

It's almost perfectly planned. The Avengers are halfway across the world, taking care of another threat that is, apparently, just a decoy for this attack.

Unfortunately, they timed it for the middle of Loki's class.

Still, they might have gotten away with that, had one particularly over-zealous Hydra agent not taken things too far.

"Everyone, hands in the air!" The door to the classroom had swung open to reveal several Hydra agents, weapons ready.

You all look at Loki for direction, but he seems supremely unconcerned and is obeying the command. As always, none of you see any reason to not follow his lead.

While the rest of the Hydra members secure the room, the first one pulls Matt, who had taken to sitting closest to the door after the window incident, out of his chair and directs a gun to his head.

"What class is this?" He demands.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, funny guy, are you? I'll give you another chance. Who's the teacher?!"

Matt looks resigned as he answers helplessly, "Luke Skywalker."

He gets the butt of the gun to his head for that one. The Hydra Agent seems ready to grab the next cadet when Loki's dry voice interjects smoothly.

"Is not this tedious? I am standing in the front of the classroom, chalk in hand, I should think the answer to your question rather obvious."

Hydra Agent One swings his gun so it is pointing directly at Loki, who has the temerity to smile. Normally, you think, that smile, full of teeth and sharp, is enough to put anyone on guard. But Loki, with his tweed ensemble, chalk dust marks everywhere, looks remarkably unthreatening.

"I haven't the inclination to bout with petty criminals, today, I'll leave such crass arts to my brother and his group of playmates. So why don't I keep my class cooperative, and you can continue slouching there doing whatever pointless exercise assigned you?"

Agent One seems to have not made it past the first sentence, because he fixates, "Petty? We are Hydra. I could kill you right now!" He waves his gun for emphasis.

"You could undoubtedly try," Loki indulges pleasantly. "Now may I finish my lecture?"

"No," Agent One says, uncertainly. He clears his throat and seems to gather himself, because his next command is more assertive, "Everyone shut up and sit down, hands where we can see them."

"How dull." But Loki complies, plopping down to the floor.

They probably would have stayed like that, had Agent Three not checked under Loki's desk, the favorite napping place of the demi-God's cat. There is a screeching meow as the creature darts forward, right past Agent One who kicks out.

There's a sharp intake of breath, and you hear someone behind you, "Did he just…?"

"Silence," Agent One shouts.

You are watching Loki whose face has suddenly gone still.

"That was your third mistake," he says, smoothly lifting himself off the floor, green eyes fixed on the agent.

"Sit back down, or I'll shoot."

"Your second," he continues conversationally as he stalks closer, "was in harming my students. A shame, really. My therapist says I have made such progress with my possessive tendencies and now I fear I shall have to begin anew."

"That's it." Agent One fires his weapon. Loki vanishes the bullet with a wave of his hand. Another gesture has two knifes precisely lodged into Agents Two and Three throats.

"Your first mistake, of course," with this next step, Loki's outfit shimmers into his leathers. "was not doing your research."

"If you cut off one head, two more shall take its place," Agent One recites, shaking with fear, but holding his ground. "No man can defeat us."

"I am Loki of Asgard," Loki proclaims, teeth gleaming, as his hand shoots out and lifts the agent by his throat, fist tightening. "There are no men like me."

Agent One crumples to the ground.

"I am going to go deal with the rest of these dimwitted cretins," Loki addresses your class. "You will all stay here and debate the best method of securing someone who stores their weapons in an extra-dimensional cache. Do not think to slack, I shall know if you do."

He spares a moment to check on Matt, and then sweeps out the door.

When the SHIELD response team arrives twenty later, the building has been secured, and Loki is returned to his lecture.

Agent Hill comes directly to the classroom, pulling her cousin into hug when she confirms his safety.

"Thank you," she says to Loki. "SHIELD owes you a great debt."

"Mine." There is something primal, something fierce in the way Loki snarls out the word.

Agent Hill looks at him for a moment and then nods.

"Indeed."

It is two years later. You are nearing graduation, when you turn the corner to see a student picking his way out of the soft bushes that SHIELD planted beneath the windows of Loki's classroom.

You lend him a hand.

"Galaga?"

The cadet responds wryly, "doodling."

"Ah. Well you'd best get back up there."

A flash of fear crosses the poor student's face as he quickly replies, "Class was just about ending, anyway."

You grin. "Believe me, he'll respect you much more if you return." At the cadet's hesitancy, "Why don't I come with you." You were one of Loki's favorites, after all, and he might be less likely to invoke terror in your presence.

The two of you pick your way up to the second floor. By the time you get there, class has been dismissed and Loki is just leaving the room.

"Sir," you call out, "you seem to have dropped another student."

"Not again? Thor has been sadly-irresponsible influence on me, I fear," he laments sardonically. "Did you know he lost another carton of pop-tarts the other week?"

You share a commiserating look.

Then Loki is peering down at the cadet, who is shrinking behind you. "There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage," he acknowledges. "I will see you on Thursday, Cadet Mueller."

Mueller nods and scurries away.

"Good day, si—" Your farewell is interrupted by Loki pulling you behind a nearby pillar, finger at his lips in the universal signal of silence.

You peer around to see nothing but one of Loki's clones milling about the corridor. It takes a couple more seconds for you to hear it, but the sound of the god of thunder's steps are unmistakable. He storms around the corner to see the double and bellows, "LOKI."

You meanwhile, are doing your best to not descend into laughter. Thor's hair is a bright, incandescent green.

The clone, apparently, has no such compunctions, because its hands are covering its mouth, body shaking with unmasked glee. Rage flashes across Thor's face, as he leaps to tackle his brother… and goes right through, landing in an inelegant heap on the ground.

"Really, Thor," Loki is the picture of smugness as his brother picks himself up. "Are you ever not going to fall for that."

He slings in arm around the blond, and leads him away, throwing a mirthful wink at you as they pass the pillar.

Thor, meanwhile, is sporting a stern glare, that is utterly belied by the warmth and fondness in his gaze.

"Brother. Shut up."

Fin

A/N

I've been thinking about a companion/sequel to Proprietary for a while. I know there were a lot of requests for me to do an "Avengers save Loki fic" and I played around with several designs for that plot, but it all felt too repetitive. So then I started thinking of ways to build off on the character development Loki underwent in my previous story, and this seemed the next logical step.

I don't normally enjoy making my own characters, especially since Marvel already has so many to choose from, but the story best told itself from this lens. I also think exploring these characters, especially Loki whose motives are always so obscure, from an outside perspective really adds to the character. As I've said, the thin line Loki walks between redemption and damnation has always been the most poignant part of the character for me, so I hope with this portrayal that I kept that edge.

Please Review. As always, all comments, criticisms, and corrections are welcome and appreciated.

Cheers,

The Third Marauder

Update 8/31/18: Sequel now up called In Loco Parentis. Thank you for all the support!