#without realizing I'd already done that pose a bit earlier
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victorluvsalice · 1 year ago
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I said I might do this in the tags on the first post of last week's Chill Valicer Save update -- here's the full-sized images from the in-game photoshoot I had my trio do right before said update so I'd have at least one shot of them in the correct order and wearing the correct clothes for my "OT3 Math" Valicertine's Day post. And then I ended up using all three anyway because I couldn't decide which one I liked best. XD Did I really need to do this for a single silly tumblr post about how much I love my Valicer OT3? No. Am I glad I did it anyway? Yes. XD
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mimisempai · 2 years ago
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Masterpiece
Summary
When Crowley challenged Aziraphale to sketch him live, he didn't expect the angel's conditions: to choose the pose, the location, and what to wear. 
Or how Aziraphale draws Crowley half-naked...
Notes
Having been a little busy today, I've just finished this light little story...
Day 22 : Blushing
On Ao3
Rating T -  1204 words
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"Crowley, stop moving now." 
Aziraphale had just given the order to the demon without even looking up from his sketchbook.
Crowley took the opportunity of the Angel not having his eyes on him to roll his eyes and reply, "Angel, when I agreed to pose for you, I never thought you'd be so serious and bossy. And especially that I'd have to stay half-naked on that couch for so long."
The demon was proud to have managed to say that without moving an inch.
Aziraphale finally looked at him and sheepishly replied, "I'm almost done. Aren't you too cold?"
Crowley responded with a shake of his head, earning another scolding look before the angel returned to his sketches in his notebook. The demon thought back to what had gotten him there and knew he had only himself to blame.
He'd been surprised that he'd never seen Aziraphale draw, but his notebook had filled up with recent drawings of him, Muriel, people on the street, and he'd asked the angel about it. Aziraphale had confessed that he often drew from memory, and most of the time when Crowley was asleep or away.
Of course, Crowley, unable to resist, had challenged him to draw a live portrait of himself.  
At first, the angel had refused, but at Crowley's insistence and coaxing, he had agreed, but on one condition, which Crowley had accepted without even knowing what it was, so pleased was he that Aziraphale had agreed.
If only he'd known.
The angel's condition was to choose the position, the outfit, and the location. The first was fine, the last too, but the outfit...
The reason the angel asked if he was cold was because Crowley's only garment was a white sheet that covered him to just above his hips and fell in soft folds around his legs, leaving his upper body bare.
Aziraphale said quietly, not looking up, "It won't be long now, my dear, I promise."
Crowley smiled indulgently, he was a little cold to be honest, but the satisfaction of seeing Aziraphale absorbed in something he loved, and being the subject of it as well, made him forget that little inconvenience.
He asked, "Will you show me when it's done?"
Aziraphale nodded and replied, "It's the least I can do if I'm already putting you through it."
He bit the end of his pencil before continuing without looking at the demon, "Now shut up, you're distracting me."
Crowley frowned and replied, "When I talk, I distract you, but you don't mind that I'm half-naked?"
The angel replied as he drew, "Why should that distract me, I'm used to drawing you, I know your beauty."
He didn't realize that his words had unintentionally made the demon silent. Besides, if he'd looked up at that moment, he would have had to add a detail to his drawing, a small shadow on the demon's cheeks, which had just blushed at the words the angel had just spoken so casually.
Crowley had regained his composure when Aziraphale looked up at him again. The demon had to keep from smiling too much, since the angel didn't want him to move, but he was amused by his level of concentration. 
He was really starting to feel cold, but he did his best not to move, even though he longed to pull the sheet over his shoulders.
To distract himself, he studied Aziraphale's face and soon became fascinated by all the facial expressions the angel was making as he continued to sketch, looking up and down at his notebook periodically. 
Crowley couldn't help but smile fondly when Aziraphale suddenly put down his pencil and lowered his notebook, saying softly in an uncertain voice that contrasted with his bossy tone from earlier, "I'm done.
Crowley gathered the white sheet around him and started to stand up, eager to see the drawing. But Aziraphale stopped him by raising a hand and, standing, said quietly, "Stay seated, it's me who's come to show it to you."
When he reached him, Aziraphale pushed aside the few books that had been part of the background of his drawing, sat down next to Crowley, and pulled the plaid from behind the sofa, unfolding it and wrapping it around the demon.
He kissed Crowley's temple softly and said gently, "Thank you for indulging my little whim," before putting an arm around the demon's shoulders and holding him close.
Crowley, happy to feel the warmth spreading through him, snuggled even closer to Aziraphale and playfully replied, "Well, Angel, I'm the one who wanted you to draw me, so I only have myself to blame. Come on, show me now."
Without letting go of the demon, Aziraphale bent down and grabbed the notebook, handing it to Crowley, who opened it to the last page.
The demon couldn't hold back a gasp of surprise.
Misunderstanding his reaction, Aziraphale asked worriedly, "Is it that bad?"
Crowley shook his head, unable to speak for a few moments, then replied, "Angel, it's... it's gorgeous."
He was in the pose Aziraphale had asked him to take, but instead of on the sofa, he was on a fainting couch, his upper body resting on the stack of books as Aziraphale had arranged it. 
He asked, "Why this particular pose?"
Aziraphale blushed as he replied, "Well, one day I came across a photograph of a sculpture of a woman in that pose, and it immediately reminded me of you. So when you challenged me to draw you live, and I agreed, all I could think of was to depict you in this manner. Thus, my condition."
Crowley, still in awe of the drawing, nodded and asked, "And the name of this sculpture?"
Aziraphale replied, a small amused smile now on his lips, "The icing on the cake, my dear, is that it's called the Allegory of Astronomy.
The angel couldn't help but laugh at the astonished look on the demon's face. 
Then he turned serious again and said quietly, "I'm glad you like it."
Crowley said quietly, "I really like it," and then asked, "So, how does it feel to paint me while I'm present and awake?"
Aziraphale pretended to think and mischievously replied, "Well, it's harder because you're very talkative and you move around a lot."
Crowley exclaimed, "You really are a bit of a bastard sometimes, you know!"
Aziraphale chuckled slightly and replied, "Seriously, it's interesting because of the light and all the things I don't take into account when I draw from memory, but, what was difficult..." He paused for a moment and a cheeky expression spread across his face as he continued, "...was resisting the urge to get up and kiss you."
Not to be outdone this time, Crowley raised his head toward the angel and replied with the same playful expression, "There's nothing stopping you from doing it now."
Aziraphale didn't hesitate and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to the demon's in a lingering, tender kiss.
And, before allowing himself to be swept away by the sweetness of the moment, he thought that no matter how perfect his drawing might be, nothing could beat the perfection of holding the subject of that drawing in his arms.
His beautiful demon.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)
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l1tw1ck · 3 years ago
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Drinking More Than Just Alcohol
Bottom!FTM Kaveh x Top!Masc Reader
{Request} | Uses AFAB Language
CW: Mild Dub-Con, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Fingering, Orgasm Delay, Dom/Sub, Rough Sex, Praise Kink
📝 1,108 Words
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Kaveh steps into the bar with a scowl on his face, clearly already drunk off his ass. He sits on a stool next to you and orders a beer.
"Kaveh?" You look at him in surprise. You didn't see him, your student, as the type to drink so heavily.
"How do you know my name?" He asks, speech slurred. He's so drunk that he doesn't recognize you. Kaveh looks you up and down and smirks lopsidedly, you look so much older and more mature than him, he didn't realize it earlier but your age is a major turn on. "Whatever..." He takes the beer he ordered and takes a greedy sip.
"Ugh, my roommate is so annoying!" Kaveh says, exasperated. "He keeps nagging me for every single thing!"
You sigh and listen to him as he vents his hateful feelings towards his roommate and various other personal issues. You start to drown him out as his words turn to angry incomprehensible blabbers.
"You should fuck me." He says suddenly. "So I can forget about everything."
"What?" Your attention immediately goes back to him. "I'm your teacher, Kaveh."
Kaveh gives you a confused look. "You haven't taught me anything...yet." He smiles. "You can teach me how to suck you off and you can fuck me stupid in return~"
"My answer is no. I'll help you get home, okay?"
"No!" He whines. "I don't wanna go back to that asshole!" He yells loudly and disturbs the other people at the bar.
"Stop it, you have to deal with it Kaveh. Unless you have somewhere else to stay?"
Kaveh starts to whine louder and even gets told off by the bartender but he doesn't stop.
"Okay, okay, fine!" You grab his hand and drag him out of the bar. You assume that by the time you get him to yours, he'll be passed out drunk.
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Much to your dismay, he is not.
You drag him inside and sit him down on the couch. "Don't move." You order before going to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water.
When you come back, you see he's started stripping. Only his underwear is left.
"Put your clothes back on!" You turn around, not wanting to see your student naked.
Kaveh gets on his knees in front of you and smiles. "C'mon..."
You look down at him, trying your best to hold back. "Fine." You give up and unzip your pants, pulling your underwear down just enough to free your length. "Suck it."
Kaveh licks up your shaft and gets it hard, thighs rubbing together in excitement when he sees your full length. He quickly wraps his lips around your head and sucks softly before moving further along your shaft.
He almost gags but forces himself to deep throat you, through pretty wet eyelashes he looks up at you for reassurance that he's doing well.
"I'm surprised you're this much of a slut, deep throating my cock like you've done it before." You smirk, running your fingers through his hair.
Before Kaveh can deny it, you start to fuck his mouth. "You're too slow though."
Kaveh rolls his eyes back, moaning and rutting against your shoe. He never thought getting his face fucked would feel so good.
You pull his head back and forth with your hips meeting him halfway. You throw your head back in pleasure, groaning lowly. "Such a pretty little thing, you wouldn't mind if I came in your mouth, would you?" You pose it as a question but have no intention of getting an answer.
Kaveh moans, feeling his peak rising.
"Archons, I never thought I'd do this to my own student...a drunk student nonetheless." You bite your lip and slow your thrusts, pushing Kaveh's head all the way to the hilt as you release your spend into his warm mouth.
Kaveh looks up at you and shivers at your dark expression. He quickly swallows without hesitation.
You pull away and let him breathe properly.
He seems to have sobered up a little bit, his eyes widening in shock when he finally remembers who you are. "Fuck...Mr. (Surname)..?"
"You finally remember me, huh?" You laugh.
Part of him wants to stop and run home but a bigger part wants to keep going.
You bring him up and drag him to your bedroom, turning the lights on and gently throwing him onto the bed. "You're not getting cold feet are you?" You ask, pulling your shirt over your head.
Kaveh looks at your torso then back up at you and shakes his head, he quickly strips down while you do the same. You tower over him and turn him around, lifting his hips up and kneading his plump ass. "Gods you're wet." You breathe out, sliding two fingers up his aching cunt.
Kaveh whimpers. "Please.."
You push two fingers inside, marveling at the mostly easy entrance before slowly scissoring him.
"Ye- yes- fuck~" Kaveh drools into the pillow. "Like- like that-"
He's so wet that you can hear the sound of your fingers moving inside him.
"Hngh- gonna co- come~" Kaveh moans, moving his hips back and forth.
"You're so cute like this, makes me want to tease you." You pull your fingers out, stopping him from coming. You lean into his ear while slowly entering him. "You can come as many times as you want, as long as it's on my cock." You bring your hand to little cock, playing with it and bringing him to the orgasm he was previously denied.
Kaveh moans, squeezing you desperately as he comes. "Ye- yes si- sir~"
You spank him lightly. "That's a good boy." You grip his waist and start thrusting into him roughly. "You feel so fucking good, Kaveh."
His face heats up from the praise. He can barely formulate a response due to how good he feels. All he can do is moan your name.
"Fuck," You groan, pulling on his hair and forcing his head back. "Wish I did this earlier–"
He starts to cry from how good it feels, already about to have another orgasm. Kaveh babbles something about being close before arching his back and coming.
You thrust into him a few times before pulling out and turning him around. You pry his mouth open and slide your length inside, thrusting back and forth before coming inside.
He quickly swallows, a little upset that you pulled out.
"Can't risk getting you pregnant." You say, taking your cock out of his mouth.
"Mo..more, please." Kaveh looks up at you sweetly.
You spread his legs open. "I had no intention of stopping." You wink.
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veliseraptor · 5 years ago
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if you're still doing the five headcanons meme, how about character-defining quotes for a character of your choice from the untamed/mdzs? (I know I said your choice and IT IS!!! but personally I'd love to see JC or JGY, or hardmode maybe Jin Ling)
oh man, anon, you’re giving me hard mode regardless purely because I can’t...look up quotes, so I have to go off my memory and then go hunt them down episode by episode. 
decided to go with Jin Guangyao because I love him and I feel like I don’t write enough about him myself (as opposed to just reblogging other peoples’ writing about him and yelling about it in the tags).
Two things that came out of this: 1. this got really long, so sorry about that if that’s not what you wanted, and 2. I now have so many Jin Guangyao screencaps. (This is not a problem.)
finally I am coming at this as a certified Jiggy Apologist™ so heads up there.
(Using Viki subtitles because I can’t screencap from Netflix anyway.)
1. "How can I be the same as you? You want me to not be afraid of the sky or afraid of the ground? I am exactly afraid of the sky, afraid of the ground, and even afraid of people!”
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I mean, okay, this whole speech is one big Jin Guangyao Manifesto, but as I was going through it to pick a specific bit for this response this was the part that stuck with me - because in many ways Jin Guangyao is a man driven by intense and inescapable fear. The entire world feels as though it is against him and always has been against him, or at least as though it is just waiting for an excuse to tear his throat out the second it sees weakness. This ties in to #2 (and Jiggy’s ‘then bite first’ instinct, but this one I think is particularly defining because of the way it emphasizes specifically fear. 
“Afraid of the sky, afraid of the ground, and even afraid of people.” Set against Nie Mingjue’s earlier words, too - listed as a bonus on this post - this is also Jin Guangyao confessing to what he knows Nie Mingjue will judge as cowardice. 
There’s this great post about how this whole scene is very Jin Guangyao Speaking His Truth - to the person he knows will reject it. He admits this - this fear that drives him, that is his constant companion, the fear that quickly becomes paranoia as his world spirals out of control (control, that he hangs onto so tightly because either he has all of the power or none of it, and without power he can’t protect himself) - with at least some knowledge that it won’t matter.
Because of course it doesn’t matter. How can I be the same as you, he asks, and his entire answer to that question will always be I can’t - I have to make my own way, however ugly that looks.
2. “In this world, everyone began with no grudges. Someone will always come forward with the first stab.” 
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I wrote a bit of a post about this one the last time I watched this episode! Basically how he’s talking to Wei Wuxian here, but I think he’s also talking about himself - and, obliquely, explaining himself. He began with no grudges, like everyone else here. Someone was always going to strike first - as his father did, to him, when he kicked him down the stairs of Jinlintai. He went there to get his acceptance, grudge-free, and limped away having come off the worse. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything to Jin Guangshan. 
Everyone begins unstained, but nobody stays that way. It’s sort of a race to the bottom way of looking at things, maybe, but given how much time Jin Guangyao has spent with people stepping on him, it’s pretty understandable that he looks at people with fear (see above!) as those who will potentially kick him down a flight of stairs. 
Eventually someone will hit first, and in Jin Guangyao’s experience if he doesn’t do it then the other person will. Why lie down and let them go for it? Why not at least try to fight back?
3. “'Abhor evil as one’s deadly foe...’ Am I exactly that evil then?”
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So this is in response to Lan Xichen’s attempt at being comforting by telling Jin Guangyao that it’s not him! Nie Mingjue is just like that about people he thinks are evil!” and Jin Guangyao is like. “So let’s examine that for a minute.”
It doesn’t just function as pointing up to Lan Xichen what he just said/implied, though (and Lan Xichen clearly realizes he said something wrong, as he stumbles over responding to this question), but it’s also, I think, to some extent a genuine question - both internally and externally directed.
I think about this great breakdown of this scene, and how Jin Guangyao is trying to balance three powerful people and keep them all happy(ish) with him. He is, here, about to do something awful - possibly unforgivable. And I think there is a hesitation, a desire to know (am I evil or am I just doing what I have to?) but also to be reassured. Jin Guangyao isn’t someone where questions of right and wrong, good and evil, don’t matter or don’t concern him. And especially here, it matters very much in the context of Lan Xichen, specifically.
Am I evil? And if I am, what does that mean: for me, for you, for us?
But it’s not just about Lan Xichen, either. It’s posed at himself, too. Is this the line that’s too far? Is this the place where I cross a point of no return? Is it?
Does it matter, if evil is what I already am?
4. "”Under the circumstances, doing one more or doing one less, what’s the difference?”
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This one...oof. I resist, to a certain extent, the retroactive “Jin Guangyao was responsible for literally every bad thing that happened after the end of Sunshot” that the Guanyin Temple scenes present. It feels a little too neat. And I’m not quite saying ‘I reject this canon and ignore it because I want to’ but I do feel like...this line interests me because it illustrates not just where Jin Guangyao is at this point (’there is nothing I can say, you’ve made up your minds about me and there’s no point arguing details anymore’) but also, more generally, how he got here.
Because it’s very easy to see how incremental Jin Guangyao’s actions are. Starting out doing things for his father - following orders, getting his hands bloody on Jin Guangshan’s behalf. And escalating. Because once he’s done one bad thing - once he’s already crossed one moral line...what’s another? Or another? Once he’s already stained, how much of a difference does it really make if he does worse?
And besides...he was never going to be virtuous. He was never going to be clean.
5. “In my life, I have lied countless times, killed countless times. Just like you said, of all the evil deeds in the world, what haven’t I done? But I...I had never thought about harming you.”
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So I like pain! And this is very. Very ouch. I feel like I see a lot of people arguing about whether this is sincere, or how sincere Jin Guangyao’s feelings for Lan Xichen were, or whether he was just lying to/manipulating him all along - but I think this is a very real, truly honest moment. Because he’s admitting to everything - admitting to a kind of hideous monstrosity that he avoided claiming before this moment, even as he was truthful about what he’d done and why. And he’s doing it to contrast it with that last line: I had never thought about harming you.
Lan Xichen was the cleanest part of his life. Lan Xichen was the person with whom he got to be his best self - the self he wanted to be (at another point in this scene he says it’s not that I didn’t want to be a good person). It’s not his truest self because Jin Guangyao doesn’t really have one of those (who does?), but a self that he doesn’t get to be with anyone else (to a certain extent, also with Qin Su, but there’s a different kind of reserve there however much he cares about her; a consequence of what he knows to be true about their relationship, particularly after Rusong’s death). That’s precious to him. That’s priceless. And here, after everything else is ripped away, their relationship shredded, there’s still this to lose: he never thought about harming Lan Xichen (he did, of course, but never directly). But Lan Xichen is killing him.
BONUS: “A real man can stand up straight and do what’s right. The more these people spout a stream of rhetoric nonsense behind your back, the more you must do things to the point that they have nothing else to say.”
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So this is a bonus instead of one of the five because it’s Nie Mingjue speaking and not Jin Guangyao himself, but the level to which this is - how Jin Guangyao approaches things for a long while is really...pretty intense. And in some ways the tipping point for Jin Guangyao is the realization, constant and unending, that it doesn’t matter what he does, or how much he does, or how hard he works - people will always have something to say. There will always be more insults, more snide comments, more judgment. There is no possible way for him to be a real man; the opportunity to stand up straight is, as far as Jin Guangyao is concerned, one he lost the moment he was born in a brothel. 
But I think there is a period of time where he wants to believe in this kind of merit-based success. That if he pushes himself hard enough, he’ll be able to better himself, to make enough gains that he can stand up straight, to make good of himself. That’s an encouraging thing to believe! And for someone like Jin Guangyao who prizes his control - the idea of having that much control/agency is a very appealing one. But he keeps running into the fact that in a rigid, hierarchical society where rumor is king, there’s no real such thing as merit-based success, or at least not the kind where they’ll let you forget where you came from. 
I think that’s a big part of Jin Guangyao’s breaking point, actually - not just the knowing he’ll never be good enough to be more than the son of a prostitute, but the disjunction between people claiming that if he just tried harder then it would be better (notably, Nie Mingjue, here, who I think does believe it to some extent), and his lived experience of trying very, very hard all the time and always eventually running into the ‘son of a prostitute’ glass ceiling. 
There’s no way out, he says in Guanyin Temple; I think in some ways Jin Guangyao’s life has been a succession of closed doors and narrowing paths where it feels, again and again, like there’s no way out - or at least, no right way. No clean way. 
The only way to win was to do terrible things.
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let-it-raines · 5 years ago
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For catch me if you can, I'd really love to see something about them having a second kid since I know you mentioned it before. Maybe something about how Emma's pregnancy is different now that Killian's retired! Thank you for all of your wonderful words!!!!!!
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I am forever and always amazed by the love and support that the Catch Me If You Can universe receives, and I love that you guys let me get these words out of my head and onto the page...or the screen. 
So here’s just a day in the life for these two that definitely alludes to some things that happen in their future!
on ao3 | here | if that’s more your jam. 
-/-
July 2025
Killian doesn’t know what to do with himself.
He’s cleaned the house. Every damn floor. That includes dusting the shutters and scrubbing the baseboards and running the vacuum twice before cleaning all of the hardwood and tile.
All of the beds are made, which is not an easy feat for how many pillows Emma likes to put on their bed, and all of Jace’s toys are in their containers. Killian knows that they’ll all be dumped out later, probably as soon as Jace wakes up from his nap, but it’s nice for once to not be worried about stepping on something and for his living room to not be a disaster.
Jace is one of the best things to ever happen to him, but Killian is still not used to how everything is beyond messy all of the time.
But not now.
Though, if it was still messy, at least he’d have something to do.
He’s cleaned the house, worked out, paid bills, set out chicken to defrost for dinner, and now, all he has to do is watch the game.
That’s not necessarily what he wants to be doing right now.
Not when he’s not the one on the mound or in the dugout and not when he still recognizes over half the faces in Yankees uniforms.
He could still be playing. He could. His arm hasn’t hurt in awhile, but that’s because he hasn’t been pitching several days a week and doing training and playing games. He has given his body the rest it needs, but damn if he doesn’t still ache.
It was his decision. He wanted it. It’s for the best.
Watching this season, though, not having any kind of regular job or connection or part of the team, is fucking weird.
But he watches because he loves the game and loves Will and Eric and Robin and all of the other guys on the team.
He watches because he likes to listen to his wife kick ass as a commentator.
She does every single time. Sighing, Killian puts the vacuum on its dock in the closet and then walks over into the living room, plopping down on the couch and turning the volume up. They’re in the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees are winning, and he hears Emma telling some story about Will that he knows is one of the age-old tales that publicists feed commentators so they have something to say to fill dead air-time.
Emma hates having to use those, but she tries not to let too much of her own personal connection with the players in.
That doesn’t really work when fifty percent of what she’s asked about has to do with him. She says it doesn’t bother her, that she’s proud to be his wife and to get to tell stories of all of her seasons with him, but there’s this small part of him that will always hate whenever anyone makes her career about him. They’re intertwined, yes, but Emma has always stood out.
His phone rings in his lap, and Killian slides his finger across the screen.
“Hey, A.”
“Hey,” Ariel says, “did you get any of my emails today?”
“I haven’t checked. Why? What’s up?”
“I sent you some stuff about interviews. Fallon and Meyers both want you on. GMA and Kelly and Ryan want you and Emma on.”
“For what? We’re not promoting anything, and you know we’re keeping Emma away from as many cameras as possible.”
“She’s literally on TV right now.”
“You know they only shoot from the shoulders up most of the time, unless it’s a rain delay or something.”
“They can do that on these shows.”
“With all of the crew that’s on those sets?” Killian clicks his tongue and stretches his arms above his head. “I don’t know. I have to talk to Emma. Why do they want us on, again?”
“It seems the two of you have become very popular on the internet because of a Buzzfeed article.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s weird, but it’s one of those where they talk about reasons to watch sports, and then they list a bunch of attractive athletes. You’re on the list, and the author attached a link or whatever to some article about you, Emma, and Jace. It’s kind of blown up into its own thing. How have you not seen it?”
“Woah, woah, woah, do these people not realize I’m retired? They can’t watch me play unless they want to watch old games.”
“You’re literally missing the entire point.”
“No, I got it, A.”
“So will you do the shows?”
“Eh,” he groans, running his hand through his hair, “that sounds a little too gimmicky to me, especially the morning show ones, and I told you I have to run it by Emma before I let you run with it.”
“Look, I get it,” Ariel sighs, and he has a feeling she’s about to do some of her famous convincing. “You’re a manager’s dream, Killian Jones, but you’re also my worst nightmare. I know you don’t like actually saying it, even though you just did, but you’re retired now. You’re going to have money coming in forever no matter what, but it wouldn’t help to grease the wheels a little bit, keep your star power alive while you stay under the radar figuring out the next big thing for you. I’m just saying that this could be good for the both of you. I’ll even make it so that the questions can’t be too invasive.”
“How are they not going to be invasive? They’re literally asking about my personal life. That’s why they want me on the shows.”
“I have my magic ways.”
Killian groans and leans back on the couch, running his hands through his hair and pinching his nose. “We’re keeping this pregnancy quiet as long as possibly can. The only way either of us would possibly agree to it is careful camera angles and no mention of the pregnancy.”
“How would they mention the pregnancy if they don’t know about it?”
“Well, someone could see. Look, I don’t know. I’ll run it by Emma tonight, okay?”
Ariel’s sigh is deep on the other end of the phone, and he knows that she gets it, even if she’s exasperated with him. It’s been happening a lot more lately with her trying to learn to manage him when he’s not always in the clubhouse or on the plane, and the adjustment period is still new.
All of this is.
“She’s going to say no.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know the two of you, I do. Is there any way I could convince you to do it, just you?”
Killian chuckles and rolls his eyes. He wouldn’t be opposed to going on a few late night shows. Those were always a good time. He’s just not going to have his life be put on a public platter without talking to his wife first. “Bye, A. Go bother your husband.”
“He’s kind of in the middle of a game right now in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m sure you can still find a way to bother him.”
She scoffs. “I will hear from you by the morning, you asshole. Goodbye.”
And then the line goes dead.
Bloody frustrating woman.
Emma’s voice echoes from the television, and Killian turns his attention back to the game. From all accounts, this seems like any other run of the mill game where everything has been average. It’s not a blow out, there aren’t any spectacular plays, and it’d be a good game to put on for a nap.
Maybe that’s what he should be doing with his free time.
He should have done that earlier, though, because he knows that Jace will be up soon.
“My husband won three World Series in what a lot of people consider a very short career for a pitcher. I don’t think you can say that’s normal. There’s only a handful of men born in the last few decades that can say that, actually.”
“Of course,” Isaac adds, “but with the way you say it, you act as if he won all of those on his own.”
Oh fucking hell. Isaac and James need to go to another team or another network. Killian’s never listened to them much since he used to watch games on mute, but damn, it’s like they don’t know how to talk positively about anyone. Is that what viewers want?
“I have never once said that,” Emma corrects, tense. “It’s always been a team effort. The starting pitcher doesn’t even play the entire game, but you implied that my husband was a mediocre player when he was anything but. Of course, he had help. Will Scarlet, for instance, helped Killian in every game. These teams are like puzzles, and you have to have all of the pieces to get the end goal. But, I mean, damn, can we go one game without you interrogating me on Killian’s stats? He was a damn good player, and nothing is going to change that.”
“You don’t have to get so emotional about it. I’m simply doing my job.”
Fuck you, Isaac.
“Alright,” Emma sighs, the camera now showing them in the booth. She’s smiling, and to the rest of the world, she looks like she always does, but there’s a tightness in the tug of her lips that he doesn’t like. “Let’s look at a play of the game presented by Chase.”
And then the screen cuts to a double play from earlier, and Killian mutes the television and stands up. What just happened isn’t going to go over well with the network, and he already knows Emma isn’t going to be home late.
Killian sighs and walks upstairs until he gets to Jace’s room. Jace is standing up in his crib trying to climb over it, and when he looks up and sees Killian, he plops back down and pretends that he wasn’t just trying to do some kind of Mission Impossible escape. They’ve got to think about moving the kid to a bed soon. All of the books say he needs to be a little older, but Killian thinks Jace might be ready.
He and Emma likely are not.
“What are you doing there, lad?” Killian laughs, leaning against the doorframe.
“Sleeping.”
“With your eyes open?”
Jace giggles and closes his eyes, cheesing like he does every time Emma tries to get him to pose for a picture. The blue of his eyes disappears into thin lines. “We play ball?”
“How are you going to play ball with your eyes closed?”
One eye slowly opens before the other joins in. “I play baseball.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Killian sighs, walking into the room and reaching into the crib to grab Jace, kissing his cheek before brushing his curls off his forehead. “We will go and play baseball, and then we’re going to cook some dinner for Mommy. Does that sound good? Dinner?”
“Pizza?”
“No, lad, not pizza. We can have some chicken though.”
Jace pouts.
“Yeah, I know. Pizza is better than chicken, but it’s all about balance, my boy.”
Killian and Jace go through their post naptime routine before Killian grabs the soft baseball they use with him and they walk out to their back patio. They have a little bit of green space back here, would have more if Killian would take the time to landscape and reorganize their furniture, and the thought has him making a mental checklist of that being his project for tomorrow.
Scratch that. Today is the end of the series, and Emma will be home for the next few days without having to go into the office or into the stadium. They could do it together, but he told her they’d have a day where they do absolutely nothing.
He intends to stick to that promise even if it’s nearly impossible for him to sit still.
He plays catch with Jace, which mostly consists of Jace tossing the ball up at such an angle that it immediately hits the ground and then drops dead. It’s that over and over again, but this tires the kid out and is something he genuinely enjoys. Killian will do absolutely anything in the world to make his son smile, and if that means chasing after a ball for an hour, he’ll do it.
That also means that when Jace gets exhausted while Killian is cooking dinner that he’ll deal with the meltdown and try to calmly explain to a toddler that it’s okay that the blue marker isn’t anywhere to be found because he can color with all of the others.
That doesn’t really fly when all he wants is a blue marker.
Obviously, he’s really knocking this whole dad thing out of the park.
The alert on Killian’s phone goes off, and he pulls up the camera to see Emma pulling into the garage. He opens his mouth, about to tell Jace that Emma’s home, but he decides to let it be a surprise. Maybe that way the kid will get out of his funk for a moment and be happier.
Or he’ll have a meltdown in front of Emma.
At this point it’s really a guessing game.
In a few minutes, Killian hears the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, and then she’s rounding the corner and moving into the kitchen. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, loose pieces around the front framing her face, and she’s not wearing any shoes. When she left the house today she was in heels and her hair was cascading down her back in waves, and if he couldn’t see the bags under her eyes and see the tightness in her smile, he’d know she was tired from her change in attire.
“Mommy,” Jace squeals when he looks up and sees her. Killian steps away from the salad he’s fixing and helps Jace down, and then he’s running toward Emma and waiting for her to pick him up. “Hi.”
“Hi, baby,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and brushing his curls back. “I missed you. Did you and Daddy have a good day?”
He eagerly nods his head, and Killian lets out a little sigh of relief. Maybe he’s not fucking this whole parenting thing up as much as he constantly thinks he is.
He’s not Brennan. He’s never going to be Brennan. But damn if he doesn’t still think he’s going to find other ways to screw his kids up.
Killian goes back to cutting up strawberries and Emma and Jace talk, and before he knows it, she’s walking over to him. He twists his head in anticipation, and Emma brushes her lips over the corner of his mouth before managing to plant a firmer kiss.
“Hi.”
“Hi. How was your day?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you about it later. What are we having for dinner?”
“The Italian chicken and some salad. I can pop some bread in the oven if you want me to.”
“I really need the carbs.”
“Then bread it is.”
“Thank you,” she sighs before adjusting Jace on her hip and then setting him back down on the barstool. “Look at this beautiful drawing. You know, I found a blue marker in my purse today. I think it might belong to you.”
Emma Jones, always saving the day.
They eat dinner, exchanging their normal small pleasantries, talking about their days without really talking about them. It’s not unusual for Emma to still take awhile to figure out how she wants to phrase things and open up about them, but it’s been awhile since it’s been like this, especially because he knows she didn’t have a good day.
Maybe she doesn’t want them to have to talk in front of Jace.
So they don’t.
They eat and do the dishes and then settle down in front of the television. Jace will only watch the Trolls movie at the moment. It doesn’t matter what iteration, as long as it’s got brightly colored singing creatures in it, and Killian tries to pay attention. He really does. But he’s distracted by a group text with the team as they discuss dinner plans for tomorrow on their day off. He’s still included in the group, even when most of it doesn’t pertain to him anymore, and he gets caught up trying to convince them to all go for pizza since Jace mentioned it earlier and it sounds damn good. He doesn’t need to be eating that, but for all that he still works out, he might deserve it.
Emma will definitely want it.
Or maybe not. He’s not sure when food is going to repulse her or not.
“Hey, sweetheart, do you – ”
Killian looks up from his phone, and he sees that Emma’s slumped down into the couch cushions, her chest rising and falling, and she and Jace are asleep.
She’s going to kill her neck if she falls asleep like that.
“Love,” he whispers, nudging her until her eyes blink open. “Hey, let me have Jace, and I’ll put him to bed. You can go upstairs, yeah?”
She nods and helps get Jace off of her until he’s in Killian’s arms and Emma is sleepily walking upstairs. He follows, turning for Jace’s room while Emma heads to theirs, and even though it only takes him five minutes to get Jace down, Emma is already in bed when he makes it to their bedroom.
Silently, he crawls onto the mattress, raising the comforter and settling underneath it as he inches closer to Emma until her back is pressed into his chest and her feet are tucked between his calves. She’s got socks on, thankfully, so it’s not like there’s ice against is skin for once. Emma sighs back into him, reaching back and grabbing his arm to wrap it around the slight roundness of her stomach. It’s a feeling he’s not quite used to yet, but it’s something he’s searched for since the moment Emma’s test came back positive.
This time he feels much more prepared, like he knows far more than any book or class can teach him, but it doesn’t stop the ache in the pit of his stomach the contradicts the warmness of his heart.
Killian sighs and presses his lips to the side of Emma’s neck while his fingers trace against her stomach, his hand moving until he can maneuver himself under her shirt and feel the heat of her skin.
Emma places her hand over his, squeezing, and for awhile, he waits for her to speak, for her to set the pace and unfurl what’s on her mind.
As her breathing evens, he’s not sure that time will ever come.
“I am so tired,” she finally whispers. “I am tired down to my bones and keep waiting for that fucking second trimester energy to start, but it hasn’t. So I’m tired but I get up anyway because I have things to do here and a job, which I swear is sucking my soul out of me.”
“What happened, love?”
“Did you watch the game?”
“Bits and pieces, but I heard enough.”
She scoots back, more firmly pressing herself into him, and her hair tickles his nose, the scent of her shampoo surrounding him.
“Was I wrong to want to do this? Should I have stayed where I was? I had so much more control there. Yeah, I was basically just the pretty face they used for men to stare at, but I had a say in what I said and who I worked with. When people hated me, I didn’t have to hear about it because I wasn’t sitting in the booth next to them. How long am I just going to be the woman who doesn’t belong? The woman who is only there because of who her husband is? And I just know it’s going to go over fantastic when I finally tell everyone I’m pregnant. I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to hide it from anyone but Jace soon.”
Killian swallows and strokes her stomach as he kisses her neck again. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He never has.
“You got that job without me. You know that, right? You already had your foot in the door.”
“Killian, I know, but no one has ever seen me that way. I might as well be a star on the Real Housewives of New York.”
“That would technically be me in this situation.”
Emma laughs, and God, that’s a good sound to hear. “Ah, yes, I hear quite a lot about you being the one who is at home with our kid. It’s almost like you’re a dad.”
“Shocker, isn’t it? A dad spending time with his kid? Raising him? Being there?”
“It’s revolutionary,” she chuckles, turning and twisting around until she’s facing him and her nose is brushing against his. “I know I got the job on my own. I know I’m smart and capable and a damn badass, even if saying that makes me a little less of one. But sometimes I just wish that things were a little easier, that I worked with people I liked again. Babe, I think I would do horrible things to have you in that booth with me.”
“Hmm?”
“I mean, would it be so crazy?” She runs her hands up his side until she’s caressing one side of his face, nails curling back into his hair. “We’ve talked about it before. You expressed interest in it. And come on, I know you love staying home with Jace, but you can’t tell me you’re not itching to be doing something else.”
“Well, Ariel did call and ask if we’d go on several talk shows today.”
Her brows pinch together. “Why?”
“Apparently there was some list about attractive baseball players – ”
“Did that stroke your ego?”
“Eh, maybe a little,” he teases, kissing her nose. “But it’s something about the two of us now being in the spotlight again and a few people had reached out to her. I said I’d ask you, but I figured the answer would be no. Then today happened, and I knew it would.”
“Yeah, I’m not doing anything extra. You can go if you want.”
“I might like it, depending on what they ask and who the other guests are. Maybe I can go on one of the shows and see if they’re doing a cooking segment that day.”
“Oh, can you bring me back food?”
“Yeah, Swan, I can.” Her eyes flutter closed and Killian leans back a bit. “I will think about it, okay?”
“About what?”
“Seeing if the network would have any interest in me working with you. Not this year, I think. I want to be home with Jace and whoever this new little one is as much as I can. And Ariel has me doing events and still working with charities, and most weeks, I’m busy enough. I mean, today I was bored out of my mind, but I think working with you would be bloody wonderful. That way we’d be on a similar schedule and still have time for our family. And I guess it could keep me connected to the game, since I still haven’t quite figured out how I wanted to do that.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Emma promises opening her eyes. “Don’t do it for me, yeah?”
“Emma – ”
“No, I’m serious, don’t do it for me. I only want it to be something you want. Killian, if you want to spend the rest of your life knitting with a group of old women, you can do that. Your career has allowed us that, but if you want to stay in this world of baseball, we can find a way for that.”
Killian blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat as his hand brushes over Emma’s hip, holding her close to him. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, “I am. I’m also still exhausted. I think I’ll have to conquer sexism in sports tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is your day off.”
“Then the next day then.” She pats his cheek and dips her head down to lightly brush her mouth of his, a feeling as familiar as anything else in the world. “I love you, Jones. Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being there for me, no matter what. I have a lot of people who are like that for me now, but I haven’t always. I mean, you know. You get it.”
“Aye, I do.” Killian hugs her closer and feels her stomach press against his. It won’t be so small soon and so much will change, but for right here and right now, that’s a worry for another day. “Thank you for being that person for me, Emma. Are you ready to go to sleep? Or would you be up for some brownies I made earlier?”
“I would be up for you bringing me some brownies in bed.”
“You’re going to get crumbs on the sheets.”
“It’ll be worth it.” She kisses him again, this time slower, softer. “I’ll do the laundry.”
Killian lets out a low whistle. “You really know how to convince a man.”
-/-
-/-
@mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @sherifemma @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @captainkillianswanjones
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biandaceconfessions · 7 years ago
Note
do you still respond to confessions? I guess im confessing anyway. I don't often talk about my sexuality because sex, being sexy, being hit on (which is rare, but has happened) makes me uncomfortable, especially from guys (im a 20 y/o girl). I've done very well closing myself up and shutting people down. I feel my unconscious mindset is I'd rather someone not get to know me than know me and reject me. However I feel my fear of rejection has also clouded my understanding of my own sexuality. 1/?
I assume I'm something fucking queer as I've been questioning my sexuality since 12 y/o or earlier. But, more along the lines of why do I lie about having crushes? If I dont have a crush on a boy I must like girls do I have a crush on my friends, no? So, wtf? Throughout teen years, a friend has a cursh, I'm like yeah they look hot but I don't want to pursue them. At the same time I'd be hot and heavy for Eric from True Blood. So then I feel strange because it's like I can't let real people 2/?             
cont.- can't let real life people, be people and sexual/romantic partners, like I'm objectifying people only attracted to their appearance but then again I'm not so attracted that I'm like yeah I'd fuck them. I don't know. I'm confusing myself just typing this. I didn't even touch on how this makes me question if I'm bisexual or ace or both or am I just looking for a lgbt label so that I'm just edgy, different and not a boring white, cis-het girl. I think my biggest fear is saying I'm ace 3/?         
cont.- without fully comprehending what that is or how others would read that. What if I'm not ace but then people beieve I am and then no ones is interested in me. But since I'm not interested in anyone do I care about that or not? Same thing for when I had an inkling that I might like girls but if I don't like girls then I just told everyone I did, then am I posing and will guys not like me. Because I don't get asked on dates I also thought what if I'm questioning my sexuality just because 4/?
cont.- just because guys don't like me, am I just thinking I might be into girls because rejection from girls hurt less than guys? because most girls I meet are straight so their no possibility that I could be rejected romantically for someone not seeking my gender. Ditto for my obsession with gay men in media such as films, stories and drag queens. Do I like them and want to be a part of that life just to get rid of the pressure of questioning if they're attracted to me. 5/?             
cont.- So one again that all trickles back down to am I ace or bi? Neither or both? Do I want a relationship?-I'm not looking. Am I not looking because I do want a rom/sex relationship but fear rejection or because I genuinely don't want that because I don't feel that way about anyone? I've seen my sister literally cry over not having a boyfriend multiple times in adolescence and I'd be like "wtf. why does that feel so important to you?" So that's kept me thinking okay maybe it's not 6/?             
cont.- not all influenced by my shyness, anxiety or the fear of rejection but that I genuinely do not feel the same way about people romantically/sexually than the "average" person (Gay, Les or Straight). I literally found this new word on your tumblr -squishes. Now it sounds so childish but the meaning of the word is how I feel about a girl right now. We are not friends, she's just beautiful and I wish I could become her close friend. However, this is clouded by the feeling of do I simply 7/?             
simple have an interest in her (for a friendship or intimacy), simply because she's openly bi, but has a boyfriend and several other guys thirsting for her. So am I attracted to her or just because she's conventionally attractive and/or because guys are interested in her and I want her to be with a girl so boys can't have her because I'm so fucked up that I have some internal hatred towards men, which is possibly due to past sexual harrasment/abuse from men, so now they must all be shit... 8/?             
cont.- so now here is my apology for such a long-winded, convoluted confession that likely just shows that I'm a crazy person overthinking and also just man-hating. But I do have male friends who I actually really hope find happiness and romantic relationships. So here I sit another year older and another year confused about what I feel and who I am in terms of sexuality. final part/?             
(Yes we do still take confessions, it’s just been a while since one has come in.)
I’m going to do my best to parse though everything you’ve sent in because as you, yourself have already realized, there are a whole helluva lot of layers to this and what you’ve been questioning and thinking over.
The first thing that I kind of latched onto that you shared was that you don’t really have an interest in crushes and you can understand when your friends do, but it doesn’t hold any sway for you. I don’t know how much you know about aromantics, but that rang a bit of a bell for me since aromantics either don’t experience crushes or they take different forms so you could have no interest in that aspect of relationships.
Something else you mentioned was the attraction to fictional characters. Some people lose interest in sexual/romantic relationships when those feelings are reciprocated. So, being attracted to fictional characters could be your way to ensure there’s no discomfort of possibly being faced with someone having interest in you, since there is your internal struggle with men liking you.
I don’t know how much research you’ve done into asexuality and have read through accounts by other asexuals, but asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction to others. You can be ace and still be interested in sex and have sex. Asexual people can also most definitely have relationships. So if people are completely turned away from pursuing you because you might be ace, then that makes them an asshole who probably wasn’t interested in you for more than sex anyway and they deserve a kick in the groin for being an asshat.
As far as crying over not having a boyfriend as your sister has done, I think that can easily be tied to the heteroromantic pressure that exists in society. Social norms are constantly telling us that we should in heterosexual relationships and that we have to be in romantic relationships to have any form of fulfillment in our lives. Now that idea is all kinds of wrong and causes more pressure for everyone (especially aromantics) and negates any form of personal happiness or satisfaction that comes from platonic or familial relationships. And those are just as important as any sort of happiness that comes from romantic relationships. It just happens that not everyone needs romantic relationships in their lives to be happy and society is going to lash out at people who feel that way because of it and make the pressure worse for people who aren’t dating someone.
Squishes is a very important term for me and I’m so happy it exists and that you found it because to me it reflects a need to get to know someone and forma  bond that doesn’t necessarily have any sexual or romantic ties. It’s a desire to share your life with someone else that is at its base really no different from romantic or sexual connection.
After reading all of this I just want you to know that you don’t have to find a label right away. Whether you settle on bi, ace, or something else entirely. Sexuality is confusing and the way society functions doesn’t help things at all. Figuring things out can take a while, especially when you’re sifting through so many layers like you have been. And it sucks that it can take so long, but it’s not an easy thing for some people to figure out. I didn’t figure out I was ace until I was in college.
If you’re afraid that testing out a label right now means you’re stuck with it for the rest of your life, let me reassure you that you’re not. Considering how much you’ve thought this over and recognized the different impacts it has on your life, I doubt you’re doing it to be “trendy” or “different” or special in some sort of way. It’s just as acceptable to think you fit one label right now and realize you’re something else later and that’s fine. You’re not going to get more brownie points or whatever for figuring it out faster because the whole process is really fucking difficult in itself.
And if you never find a label that really fits and can be at peace just going through life as who you are then that’s okay, too.
<3 Mod Ace
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mimisempai · 4 years ago
Text
Missing you comes in waves and tonight I'm drowning
Summary:
After seeing Loki disappear before his eyes and confined to the TVA because of the failed mission, Mobius decides to still believe in Loki and search for him. He witnesses the discussion between Sylvie and Loki on the train
Notes:
My theories on the method used by Mobius to locate Loki is probably very far-fetched and lacks technical truth, but that's not the most important point here, so I hope you'll forgive me for my short cuts. (I miss them together!)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32162878
2008 words - Rating G
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"Loki! Wait!"
Loki looked at him for a moment before stepping through the portal.
By the time they got there, it was too late Loki and the portal was gone.
"I knew he would betray us as soon as he could!" said one of the hunters right next to Mobius.
"Shut up!" shouted Mobius at him before returning to the TVA.
As he walked toward Ravonna's office, the same thoughts swirled over and over in his head.
Had Loki betrayed him! What were his plans? But worst of all, was he in danger?
He tried to think rationally.
Loki always said he was one step ahead, but Mobius knew that wasn't true. Loki was improvising. Loki was adapting. So reason told Mobius that this is what he had done.
That's when Mobius decided to do something he'd never done in his life at the TVA, he was going to bet on chaos. On the fact that Loki had chosen to follow the variant not only for his own sake but also because it was his mission.
Because Mobius could not imagine that what they had shared was nothing in the eyes of the god.
"Mobius! In my office!"
Ravonna... he was already imagining her reprimands, "I warned you" "he can't be trusted"...
As soon as he entered her office, she showed him a screen and just said, "Look!"
A scene showing the variant fighting in a hallway with the guards and Loki in the locker room retrieving his daggers then arriving at the place where the guards were eliminated.
Next scene Loki and the variant fighting, Loki trying to convince her to team up, at this point, despite the faith he has in him, Mobius could not determine if this is a way to stop her or get what he wants.
Then Rovenna arrives and the variant uses Loki as a hostage.
Mobius could not prevent a gasp.
Still on the screen, seeing that Rovenna is not persuaded, Loki grabs an object that opens a portal above them and he and the Variant disappear.
Mobius tried not to show his relief, but he saw that Rovenna was not fooled.
"So you still trust him?"
Mobius looked at her defiantly, "As long as I don't have concrete, real proof that he betrayed us, yes I’ll trust him!"
"Always the idealistic dreamer huh?"
Mobius didn't answer, Rovenna continued, "You're grounded here until I tell you otherwise. You can get out."
Once out, Mobius sat in a chair, held his head in his hands, and began to think. He was grounded, but there was nothing to stop him from trying to figure out where Loki was.
He just had to figure out how to locate him.
The difference was that now, thanks to Loki, he knew to look in the apocalypses, what he had to find now was the equivalent of that candy, something out of the ordinary, something anachronistic.
He stood up suddenly, he had found it!
He went to the office, where the screen that displayed all the nexuses was located.
"Casey! Come here!"
The younger man got up and joined him. Mobius spoke more softly, "Will you help me with a secret project?"
Casey, who had great respect for the man, nodded.
"Follow me."
They headed into the archive room. Mobius chose a table a little out of the way.
"You sit here. I'll be right back."
A few minutes later, he returned with a stack of files that he separated into two piles.
"In all these apocalypses, we need to find one where it mentions two Lokis variants and unusual magical acts."
"Got it!"
Mobius didn't know if his smoky theory would work out, but he didn't have much choice.
He couldn't help but think back to a similar scene a few days earlier, when Loki had fallen asleep. He had let his guard down in the presence of Mobius, so that meant something, didn't it?
He started to flip through the files.
"M-Mobius! I think I've got it!"
Casey was showing him a file, Lamentis-1 - 2077, a woman reports that two demons tried to attack her. One even allegedly posed as her deceased husband in order to get information.
Mobius could feel it in his bones. It was Loki and the Variant.
He was going to have to gamble on someone again.
"Casey. I need you to keep this a secret for a while longer. If Ravonna gets wind of this, I'm afraid she'll launch an assault and won't hesitate to eliminate Loki."
Casey nodded without taking time to think, "As long as you need Mobius."
Mobius was surprised that he didn't have to persuade Casey more than that.
After all, he seemed to be the good, loyal employee who never disobeyed.
Casey, seeing his reaction, added with a knowing smile, "You know, I like Loki too. He promised me he'd show me what a fish is and you know? The drink he took from me the other day, he bought me another one and apologized. A villain wouldn't take the time to do something like that right?"
Mobius's throat tightened. Casey was the first person other than himself to acknowledge that there was good in Loki.
"Thanks."
Casey nodded and returned to his desk.
Mobius headed straight for the video archive room. The advantage of being an agent of his rank was that he had unrestricted access to this section of the archives.
He searched through the shelves until he found the videos of Lamentis 1 in 2077.
He sat down in front of one of the small projectors provided for this purpose. He was going to start from the described scene that Casey had shown him.
After entering a few parameters, the screen lit up with Loki being blasted by an old woman.
The noise of the meteors that rained down around
Loki and the one who accompanied him, prevented Mobius from hearing what was being said.He pressed the fast-forward button until Loki and the girl, after some trouble to enter the train, found themselves in a box in the dining car.
He turned up the volume to hear their conversation.
He was amazed at how easily they seemed to converse, despite the jabs on both sides, and couldn't help a twinge of annoyance that he refused to recognize as jealousy.
The variant said to Loki, mockingly, "FYI, that wasn't even a plan."
"Oh, really?"
God how Mobius missed that cheeky attitude. Even when unmasked, Loki still had that irritating confidence.
The variant replied, "Plans have multiple steps. Dressing as a guard and getting on a train is just doing a thing."
She couldn't hold back a yawn.
Loki responded, "Oh, are you a bit tired? Feel free to, you know, get some rest."
One thing Mobius had realized and Casey had confirmed to him just before was that Loki cared more about others than he let on if you paid attention.
The variant grunted and replied, "I can't sleep in a place like this."
"You can't sleep on a train?"
The variant retorted, irritated, "No. I can't sleep around untrustworthy people."
Loki replied, still cheeky, "Oh, right. That's me?"
Fearing he might misinterpret what had been said, Mobius pressed rewind and let the scene play out before him.
The image of Loki nodding in agreement about not being able to sleep near people he couldn't trust was superimposed on the image of Loki sound asleep in his company.
He could not suppress the pang of his heart.
Loki trusted him, Loki considered him trustworthy.
While he was thinking, the video had continued and Loki was now talking about his mother.
Mobius had witnessed Loki's relationship with his mother and his devastation at the news of her death.
Loki's voice had become more hushed, with that hint of fragility he had whenever he spoke of her.
"She was, um... A Queen of Asgard. She was good. Purely decent."
Then the variant and Loki respectively provoked each other about the fact that they were adopted and Loki continued, "You know, when I was young, she'd do these little bits of magic for me. Like turn a flower into a frog or cast fireworks over the water. It all seemed impossible. But she told me that I'd be able to do it too because... Because I could do anything. You wanna see?"
Loki sets off tiny fireworks over his hand.
Mobius could not deny his feelings at that moment.
The sight of magic coming from Loki's hands, pure magic, was enchanting.
Loki continued, "She was the kinda person you'd want to believe in you."
Mobius could not help but whisper, "Loki, I believe in you."
For a few moments he didn't catch the conversation until it was audible again. Apparently they were talking about their love interests.
The variant asked Loki, "How about you? You're a prince. Must've been would-be-princesses or perhaps, another prince." She finished with a wink.
Loki, replied with a serious look, "A bit of both. I suspect the same as you. But, nothing ever..."
The variant finished his sentence, "real."
"Let me find you and I'll prove to you how real it is." Mobius didn't realize he was speaking aloud. He pushed fast-forward again.
The Variant had fallen asleep and Loki looked a little giddy.
Loki waved his hand and was back in his TVA agent costume.
He could wear the illusion of any outfit, and he chose this one. Why stay in these clothes?
Mobius really didn't want to be under any illusions, because how could he imagine that someone like Loki, a prince, a god, would want to claim a belonging to something like the TVA... to someone like Mobius?
Loki had started to dance and sing.
Mobius could not help but laugh. Then his laughter died down as Loki's song became more melancholic,
I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene
Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem
I eplehagen står møyen den vene
og synger "når kommer du hjem?"
Men traner danser og fossene stanser
når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"
Then seeming to regain his spirits, Loki began to dance and sing happily again as if trying to prevent nostalgia from invading him.
When the music stopped, he joined the Variant and resumed his seat in front of him. Mobius managed to understand what they were saying to each other.
"What did you just sing to look so disturbed?"
Loki looked a little moved and answered him with the voice Mobius knew well, the one he used when he was serious, when he was sincere.
"It's Asgardian, it says:
In storm-black mountains, I wander alone
Over the glacier I make my way
In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,
"When will you come home?"
Loki stopped, apparently moved, and the Variant simply said, "So there's a would-be-princess somewhere..."
Loki chuckled looking so sad before answering her, "I like metaphors you know, it's not a princess it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."
"But you'd like to believe that right?"
Loki nodded.
Mobius, didn't dare to believe that it was him that Loki was talking about, even though he couldn't stop the hope from rising up inside him.
The video continued, much more animated, after a wild fight, both jumped off the moving train and found themselves walking through a kind of desert towards the energy source they apparently needed to reactivate the tempad.
Mobius saw Loki suddenly stop, looking shocked. But Mobius was unable to hear what they were saying, the sound of the meteors again covering their voices.
Suddenly, Loki shouted louder, "But they don't know that!"
And they began to run.
Mobius could see that Loki was repeating something as he ran, an expression that Mobius had never seen on his face. Like he was worried. But he couldn't hear him. He zoomed in closer to try to read Loki's lips and finally succeeded.
Mobius.
_________
The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius
Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰
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