#I meant the not th earlier I just can’t type

[springypaws]

Happy International Asexual Day from Jon and Martin!!

(Tysm @jonmartinweek for having ace as the prompt today <3333)

Image description is in the ALT text as always ✨

Tumblr has absolutely killed the quality so if you want your eyes to not be confused/in pain by whatever pixel mess you may be seeing, I suggest clicking the image 🙏🙏

[beastszai]

mwah what up dawg can i requests dazai with a s/o whos very immature like laughs at the wrong time, whos laughs at inapporiate jokes and pranks kunikida. :33

YAHOOO hello hi hey anon!! TY for the request ehhehe MUA also dazai is so silly i wanna put him in a microwave *having a near death stroke*

✦ Dazai with an immature S/O ✦

♫ Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun

✧ warnings : gn reader・ bad writing・slight hint at suggestive jokes・dazai being dazai (what else is new)・crack?・fluff??? (what the fuck is this help…)

✧ summary : some headcanons (my brain is fried) + you and zaza Dazai are a tad bit silly together at the agency instead of workin

w/c : 1K-ish

Youuuu two are pretty much the cause of Kunikida's daily headaches…

…though it's not just Kunikida losing his mind at this point, with both you and Dazai matching each other's energy, the whole agency is praying for peace every day.

Dazai feels prideful when he gets to get a little laugh out of you, it's easy for you to laugh at things and he finds it adorable

Your laughs and giggles feed his ego TRUST

His favorite moments are when you both seem to read each other's mind, later going back and forth between your ideas of how to annoy Kunikida

Both end up getting scolded and lectured by him, and in a worst-case scenario, he forces the two of you to sit as far apart from each other as possible while dumping piles of paper on your desks.

Your laughs also make him burst out laughing as well no matter how unfunny or serious the situation can be

With his way of wording things and your humor combined, it’s impossible for you to not snicker when he says the most normal things

“Dazai can you over real quick—” “I’m coming!” “…….that’s what she said LMFAOOOO”

A hundred percent made you laugh so much once that your stomach AND jaw were hurting

Dazai is silly, so it’s only fair he gets an ALSO silly s/o

…Today was unexpectedly boring. No special cases, no special encounters with the infamous port mafia… no special anything. Just paperwork. The only way to entertain yourself—and slack off from dealing with the paperwork and reporting on earlier cases—was to cause a little bit of chaos. The awkward silence throughout the agency’s office was killing you anyways…

You took a quick glance at Dazai who was sitting across the room and laying his chin on his desk, half asleep and bored out of his mind. He was quick to notice you looking at him and returned your gaze with his shit eating grin. The one that meant ‘nothing but trouble™’.

Your lips parted slightly to mouth the words ‘I’m bored’ to him, but Dazai was already spinning around in his office chair and wheeling his way closer to Kunikida’s desk.

“Heeeeey Kunikida~ So, you see, me and y/n are a teensy bit bored and I was wo-”

“Get the hell back to work, Dazai.”

The blond grumbled in frustration, not even raising his head from the monitor screen in front of him. His hands typed into the computer with speed, making a continuous clicking sound. Kunikida then paused, fixed his glasses and turned his head to you.

“…You too, y/n.”

He added, speaking in a much less annoyed tone than when he talked to Dazai. He immediately went back to working. The brunette sighed, getting back to his desk with a pout. Though, you knew that he was way too bored to have mercy on Kunikida today—or literally any other day.

Yanking one of the forms put aside on his desk in a swift motion, Dazai carefully turned it into a paper plane. He continued doing so until nearly half the pile of papers was gone and paper plane-ified. You raised your head from your own work and watched in amusement.

“Oh? You knew origami and didn’t tell me? Wow, ‘samu, can’t believe you’ve been keeping such great talent a secret from me!” You giggled, clutching your chest to add onto your dramatic act while spinning your office chairs’ way closer to Dazai. He grinned, busy adding the finishing touches to his 30th paper plane, “Oh I can do much more than some silly origami stuff, trust me on that.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, loud enough for Dazai’s ears to catch it and smile with pride. He was so focused that he had even piqued Atsushi and Kyouka’s interest—along with Ranpo stealing glances from time to time.

You had long begun to help him with whatever he was scheming, making a few paper planes of your own and dropping the 45th? 54th? Whatever number paper plane onto his desk. While both of you were busy with your paper plane making, Kunikida’s laptop slammed shut; though neither you nor Dazai heard it or the sound of him stomping his way to the two of you. Dazai snickered while you counted the paper planes he’d made, going back and forth with the numbers as you kept losing count.

“Goddammit Dazai, stop distracting me! Unless you want to count all this yourself…” You grumbled and playfully smacked him in the head with the plane you were holding. He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Kunikida cleared his throat.

It made you both sink into your seats, slowly turning to face him—arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot.

“Dazai. Y/n. May I ask what you’re doing? It’s not work as far as I’m concerned.”

Kunikida’s tone was surprisingly calm… the calm before the storm, you thought. Dazai, completely nonchalant about Kunikida’s presence, held one of the paper planes up and above his own head and grinned.

“Entertaining ourselves since boredom is ought to kill us~ Why do you ask?”

Out of curiosity, you decided to unfold one of the planes to take a look at it’s contents. Your vision blurred for a second once you realized what all that paperwork that you had turned into planes actually was… While Dazai was busy showing off the paper plane he had in hand to Kunikida, you desperately tugged on his sleeve, tapped his shoulder, shook his hand, anything to get him to stop talking.

“Dazai… have you even taken a look at what those papers were about?” Kunikida cut Dazai off, brows furrowed.

“Hmm? Oh, no not really! What’re they fo—”

“They’re all boss’ notes and reports…”

You whispered to him in a shaky voice, eyes still glued to Fukuzawa’s signature at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper.

“Handwritten notes and reports.”

All three of you turned your head to Ranpo, who was fiddling around with a bag of chips, struggling to get it open.

“Those are all handwritten by him. He left them on Dazai’s desk not expecting anyone to touch them, knowing that he barely—almost never works… Just thought I’d let you know.”

A long pause. Ranpo then turned his chair around and aside from his faint chewing, the silence in the office had become deafening…

“…Wow, nice work, detective Dazai Osamu…” You mocked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus like thaaaaat, you helped too! So cruel of you, bella…”

Dazai gave you a dramatic ‘hmph!’ and awkwardly turned to Kunikida—who was practically shaking in fury—with a sheepish smile, throwing the paper plane at his head followed by a nervous laughter.

“Nowwww before you do or say anything, Kunikida-kun~ In my defens-”

“…DazaaAAAIIII—!!!”

p.s : its been awhile since ive written and actually posted it so this is a bit wonky I KNOW im not this ass at writing please spare my life i have a wife and kids…

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 12. Giver of Gifts | Steven/Reader

AN: I thought twice about writing for Steven as he was a real person but I read that the real Steven said the character was nothing like him, so this is entirely based on the fictional character played by Alan and is nothing to do with the real Steven Spurrier or his real wife at all.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Being married to a world-renowned wine connoisseur wasn’t always as fun as it sounded. Of course, you loved being married to Steven, but as far as his status in the wine industry went, there were some downsides. Other people, mainly.

Some people - and these were the types to always order the cheapest white on the menu at any restaurant they went to - couldn’t fathom how Steven made a living out of his passion for wine. “I wish I could get paid for drinking wine!” they’d laugh, as if they were the first to make that joke. “Do you get free wine?” Yes, you’d say, sometimes he brought home a bottle or two of his favourites from whatever wine competition he’d been off judging. “What’s the difference between a £5 bottle and a £500 bottle?” Ask him, not me, and be prepared to listen to the answer for a long time.

And Christmas… well, your family and friends had their hearts in the right places. But when you sat down to open the presents under your tree on Christmas Day, you did sometimes wish for a bit more variety than endless bottles of wine as gifts - especially as the wines were usually generic supermarket-shelf bottles.

They were usually nice wines, and before meeting Steven you’d have loved to be given a year’s supply of free wine every Christmas. You liked Moët, and to the average person £50 was a lot for a bottle of wine. And at least Steven let you drink it - the higher the price of a bottle he brought home, the less likely it was he’d ever actually open it. His wine cellar was like a dragon’s cave, rows and rows of unopened fancy wines that were made to be drunk but he’d never dream of opening them because they were so fancy.

But there was more to Steven than just wine. And there was more to you than the wife of a man who loves wine. But whenever anyone thought of the Spurriers, they thought of wine, and so that was what you got.

And you couldn’t complain really - not since you’d actually bought him wine too. But you’d gone all out on this one. You were fortunate enough to earn a healthy amount of money in your own career, so although it stretched the budget a bit, it didn’t break the bank for you to buy him a £4,500 bottle of JS Terrantez.

Steven opened your present last, and his eyes lit up when he pulled the 200-year-old bottle from the bag you’d presented it in.

“[Y/n]!” he exclaimed with a gasp, turning over the bottle in his hand carefully, as if worried it might explode. “What on earth has gotten into you? You can’t give me this, it’s too much!”

“Don’t be silly, Steve,” you replied, nudging him. “I know how irritated you get at how many Barefoots and Echo Falls we get every year. I thought it was about time someone got you a good wine.”

“Good? This is the sixth most expensive wine in the world, [Y/n].”

“And it’s not even French, would you believe it?”

Steven rolled his eyes at you. His famous 1976 wine tasting had taken place years before you’d met, but you still liked to tease him about it.

“This is such a thoughtful gift, [Y/n]. Thank you.”

He kissed you on the cheek, and you blushed. He wasn’t the most affectionate man in the world, and you’d come to terms with that a long time ago - it just meant that when he did show affection, it meant all that much more to you.

“Can I open my present now?” you asked, eyeing up the one single gift under the tree that wasn’t in a wine bag.

“Alright, but I wish you’d opened it earlier, it pales in comparison to this.”

Steven carefully set aside the bottle to take down into the cellar later, and retrieved the last present from under the tree for you. You pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a framed photo of the two of you from your wedding.

“Oh, Steve, I love it!” you exclaimed. You wrapped your arms around him, surprising him, and kissed him on the cheek.

“You do? I know we don’t have a lot of photos of us, so I thought it’d be nice to have something to put on the mantelpiece.”

“You mean other than the photos of you with important wine people?”

“Precisely. You’re far more important than any of them. But I feel bad now, it’s nothing compared to that Terrantez —”

“Well, I think it’s my favourite present this year. I’m going to put it right here on the mantel, and we can look at it while we drink these cheap wines and you tell me all about why they’re so terrible even though they taste fine.”

Steven smiled, your enthusiasm infectious, and he was grateful to have a wife so loving as you, who understood his passion - even if you didn’t quite understand the difference between a Merlot and a Shiraz.

[nerdieforpedro]

Scarlet Stains and their Echoes

Part of “Post Apocalyptic Fluff and Stuff” Collection

Joel Miller and Celeste (plus size OFC)

This fic and my blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2k

Warnings: PTSD, mention of death, mention of murder, fire use (a type of weapon), very heavy on the angst, one character has a mental breakdown, very bad jokes

Summary: The memories of how she came to Jackson haunt Celeste. Joel takes her out of the rain and enters her home.

Notes: Not sure why I’m writing so much angst as of late. I came home earlier this week and wrote this. 👀 I really meant for this to be fluff and for a challenge I was working on. My bad. 🫣 Celeste’s memories are in italics and her speech is in pink.

There's a little fluff at the end. 🥹

Main Masterlist/ Joel Miller Masterlist/ Post Apocalyptic Fluff and Stuff Collection

“I don’t see why I would listen to you, that last call was bad, and you know it.”

“It was good. You’re the dumbass who went too far out and drew two here. We killed them but now there’s less ammo and we need to figure out how to get rid of the bodies. All for some…never mind.”

“Say it. I know you want to.”

“You doomed us for tail you bastard. If any of the people with us turn-“

“She part of the group now and will pull her weight. We’ll be fine. You’re paranoid as always.”

“I’ve lived this long by being so. You may want to start.”

Exposed feet make their way slowly along the dirt street if that’s what one would call it. “Shaa…Shaa…lala….shaa…” Rocking side to side, the ground sloshes underneath her feet. She stumbles stepping into a deep puddle but laughs as she sees it. Sees all of them.

“I know deep down you’re happy aren’t you? You get to be fucking right again. You always have to be right dammit…”

“This is the worst thing to be right about. There’s nothing to do but try and get out.”

“We traveled with them. Hunted and ate with them, we can’t just-“

“Put up or shut up. This is your mess we have to try and clean up. Supposing all of us aren’t all infected and just slow to turn. You were man enough to chase that ass, you better buck up find that same backbone when you told me I was paranoid.”

“We’re shit out of luck aren’t we?”

“There’s no motor or paddles on this boat and there’s a gaping hole in it. We’ll figure it out or die. Our only options Ron.”

The street is oddly lit from the moonlight peeking in small breaks of the clouds. Despite the flashes of brightness, the sky is still pouring down. Crying with her as she walks, hands waving in circles, holding a small fuchsia primrose. The memories are usually pushed away, in a place that isn’t touched within her. Any skirmishes occurring on patrol with clickers, raiders or smugglers weren’t enough to have those dangerous ruminations return.

The one raider she’d shot because he’d had a gun trained on Joel’s back – he looked like Ron.

All day, since looting their supplies and reporting back, she been able to distract herself from the nagging thought. It ate at her, inch by inch until after getting ready for bed, it struck. Thankfully she lives in a small house alone, so no one heard the wailing that slowed to sobs. Getting up and pacing, nor finally opening that bottle of whiskey Tommy gave her and drinking half of it made her numb. It needed to be gone, the pain, the evocation of these associations.

“You’ve got to use them.”

“I’m going to blow the place to hell if I do that! You idiot!”

“Celeste, I was bit. It’s only a matter of time. I’m sorry I was a horny asshole. Everyone is-“

“There might be some people left, we can save them and get out of here!”

“Put up or shut up Lace. This can’t spread out of here…”

“You’re leaving me with the shit job again Ron, damn.”

“Kinda my thing? My bad.”

“Well, fine. I think I remember how to do it.”

“It’s lighting and tossing some bottles. They’re Molotov cocktails. Turns out fire’s cleansing too.”

“Cleansing and destructive. I’ve got it Ronald.”

“I know you do Celeste.”

Can they be erased? Washed away by the rain? It’s supposed to be cleansing and healing, right? Like that night, it was pouring outside when she sabotaged the building. Raindrops stained her face as she left with the supplies she’d gathered, making her way to Jackson – their group’s goal.

The only one who did. It rained the first night Celeste had arrived at Jackson too. It had long washed away the blood but never the smell. Charred clothes and skin.

“Damn cocktails and a leaky boat.”

Joel didn’t sleep unless exhausted. Elle was over a friend’s house from the makeshift school they had here in Jackson. At least there were some kids her age. Hopefully she minded her language while over there. He sits at his downstairs window, no lights, just nursing the one drink that he told himself he could have tonight. It had been one to his credit. He was hoping the steady heavy rain would have lulled him to sleep, but he’d already been upstairs awake in bed for a few hours. The ceiling would need some reinforcing by his estimate after looking at the thing so long.

Miller thought his drink was too strong, maybe he can’t handle his liquor anymore. His patrol partner was in the street, barefoot with that same flower he’d given her when she found out he had allergies in a damn apocalypse. She is wearing gray shorts and a t-shirt, nothing crazy for sleepwear. It doesn’t suit being out in a downpour at three in the morning. She appears to be talking to someone, but he doesn’t see anyone outside.

“Can’t be any good.” Leaving his drink, slips on his boots and makes his way outside after grabbing a blanket and an umbrella he was able to find on one scouting outing. Calling her name does nothing and even shaking her shoulder didn’t have any effect. Joel doesn’t like it, but he pulls her by the arm back to her home, he’s never been to it but knows what it looks like. Easy to find because the door is open. He closed it when they both were in and left her at the foyer to check the house. No one had come in thankfully, not that he expected anyone to, but it pays to be safe.

“Celeste, Celeste!” He holds her shoulders and continues to call her name. She is shaking but he’s not sure if it’s from being wet, cold or in whatever trance she was in. Joel knows that he is way out of his depth, but he doesn’t think leaving her alone is a good idea. She might end up outside again or do something else, he shudders at the thought.

Joel takes a step back from Celeste. This isn’t the woman he knows, not from patrol. He’d just recently started talking to her, mostly about the weather of what’s going on in Jackson, but it was something instead of their nearly silent patrols save for different commands given when avoiding danger or neutralizing threats. He appreciates that often she didn’t talk unless it was needed. Even her shock at his horrible puns he’d borrowed from Elle had grown on him. Who was this woman in front of him? So haunted with empty eyes filled with sorrow. The flower he’d given her had lost most of its petals and leaves.

“I broke it. I’m sorry. It was important. It meant something. All of it slips through my fingers.” Joel’s never heard her sound so vulnerable. She drops the flower and finally her eyes look like they have some focus. “Joel? What are you doing in my house? I was trying to…to…I’m soaked.” Her head turns toward the window where droplets cascade against the house’s frame and windows. “Did I go outside? Is that why you’re here?” Nodding, Joel lets her work out the rest and scans her living room for a blanket. There’s a small knitted one so he picks that one up off the couch as she follows him over and sits down. Draping it over her shoulders, it dips along her back and covers the tops of her thighs. “Thank you, Joel.”

“I’m your partner. I’ve got you. Just maybe don’t be out in the rain anymore. Ain’t good for ya.” Joel states, making her chuckle. Even now, he could make her laugh. The glimmers of days past are still lingering near the surface. He plops down next to her, his left knee touching her right one.

“I’m not talking about it. I am going to go change and then we’re splitting the last half of my bottle before you go home. As thanks and in case anyone else saw me, I can tell them I was drunk, and I’ll have the hangover to prove it.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh now. He understands the drive to burn, bide and bury the nagging demons that tear at your soul. Through meeting Elle and finding his brother again, it dawned on Joel to try and drown those dark impulses with better experiences.

They’ll never go away, never fully be gone.

“Ya took me away from the one glass I was gonna have so I’m owed.” He crossed his arms with a grin as Celeste went upstairs to take off her wet clothes. She put on her black pain of shorts and sleep t-shirt. She’d have to wash the other one later. Returning with the bottle after washing up, she brought her glass down and got a one for Joel. She returned to her seat next to him, but placed a towel down so her other sleep clothes wouldn’t get wet. “Fill ‘er up.” Miller clapped his hand around his glass as she poured his first and then hers. Once full, they clinked glasses and sipped in silence, he was worried that she might float far away again.

“It wasn’t from the drink. I think. Many other things. I’m not going to again, calm yourself Miller.” Joel sucked his teeth as he took another swallow of whiskey. It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he just knew would promise himself that he wouldn’t be so violent except when required. There’s always a small part of him that points in that direction, he avoids it, but all it takes is one time to fall back into old patterns. Today had been different, after defending themselves against the raiders, she’d been solemn, never happened with any other raiders or smugglers he’d taken down with her.

“Know one of them today? I take it they were important.”

“Didn’t know any of them. He just looked like an old friend. I thought I’d put it behind me Joel.”

“Celeste, none of this is behind any of us. It’s just kinda there and we act like it’s not. Just to function. Tonight was a bad night. We’re all entitled to them. Any adult who’s made it this far ain’t clean at all. We’re all just stained, nothing’s getting washed out. Not even with that stuff that guy used to yell on the TV about late at night.” Both partners laugh to relieve the tension in the air.

“I was with you until you mentioned the Oxy-Clean man Joel. You remember that, but nothing about the Spice Girls, BackStreet Boys, Boys II Men or N’Sync?”

“Not any of the songs you hum when you fill the canteens. Not a one” With his glass tipped all the way up, he finishes it and stands, not moving for a minute to keep his balance. Tommy had given her a strong whiskey.

“Here drinking my liquor and lying to me in my own house. Damn shame.” Putting her hands on her hips and standing next to Joel, she started toward the door, and he followed her this time. “Thanks again Joel. Dry off after you get in.”

With an affirmative grunt and the opening of Celeste’s door, Joel stood in the frame, he raised a hand, but chose to place it on the side of the frame before grasping her shoulder. “Take care Celeste.” Instead of returning the gesture, she placed her hand on top of his.

“Of course. Don’t get sick on my account.” They parted and Joel began a slow jog down the street to his house.

A deeper accord had been reached in their partnership.

[berkmansimagines]

Glitch

A/N: I'm so excited about the new season 4 trailer that just dropped! I'm posting this lil drabble to celebrate 📱

Summary: Barry’s phone gps glitches out after a job, leading him to you…

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!reader

You and Barry were supposed to be just friends. Not even friends, more like business partners. You two teamed up on a hit together. It was meant to be a one time thing. Your handler told you to cut off all ties with Barry as soon as the job ended. But you weren’t always good at following orders… 

You have been going behind your handler's back, secretly hooking up with Barry since the night you finished the hit. It’s been going on for the past couple of weeks and you’re not even sorry. You two can’t seem to stay away from each other. Barry doesn’t live in your part of town but you go out of your way to see him. You don’t brave LA traffic for just anybody.

You were supposed to sweat him out. When you started hooking up with Barry, you had no idea how long it would last. You assumed the fling would just fizzle out like they all do, but it hasn’t. The situationship has been heating up and you don’t want it to end anytime soon.

Because of your line of work, you’ve never been the relationship type. You can’t tell anyone what you really do for a living and you didn’t want to start a relationship built on a lie. Being with Barry is different. He understands you in a way that no one else can and you don’t have to lie to him about your job. 

If Barry was just some random hook up, you would’ve cut him loose weeks ago. He means more to you than that. You and Barry haven’t officially defined your relationship yet, but you think that you’re starting to develop real feelings for him. And that kind of scares you.

You keep your feelings for Barry close to the chest. You’re playing it cool, acting a little coy around him. You were the one that insisted on keeping the relationship a secret and you don’t know where Barry’s head is at. He might want to break off whatever you two have going on so he could date someone that he doesn’t need to sneak around with. You’ve considered the possibility that he could be falling for you too, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. You think you have no chance. People like you don’t get a happily ever after. 

You haven’t heard from Barry all day. You thought about reaching out to him but you were the one that texted last and you didn’t want to appear desperate. To get your mind off him, you went out to a nearby bar. While you were sitting alone at the bar, some dudes tried flirting with you. But they gave nothing. And Barry was always on the back of your mind. You would have rather spent the night with him… 

You only had one drink before taking an Uber home. The driver drops you off across the street from your apartment building. As you walk towards your place you can’t help but admire the beautiful night sky. The night is so starry, blood moonlit. It feels almost fake, like something you’d only see in a movie.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar looking car parked in front of your building. That’s Barry’s car. You scrunch your forehead, confused. The two of you didn’t make plans tonight. Why is he outside your place?

You slowly approach the vehicle. When you get closer you see Barry sitting in the driver’s seat. He looks kinda rough. You gently tap on the window and Barry almost jumps out of his seat. He didn’t see you coming. He rolls down the window.

“Uhhh… hey Y/N,” he nods, trying his best attempt at acting casual.

You raise your eyebrow, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Barry… What are you doing here?”

You look Barry up and down and notice his hand is bleeding pretty bad. You immediately soften your face, putting your guard down.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” you ask with concern.

Barry shakes his head.

“It’s nothing. I was on a job earlier…” he sighs.

You nod your head, understanding.

“Sorry I just showed up here. My phone gps fucked up. I thought I selected my address but I must’ve accidentally pressed yours by mistake. And now it’s not working at all,” he quietly explains.

You notice his phone on the dashboard. There’s blood all over it. No wonder it’s not working. Even if it was, Barry is in no shape to drive. His hand is still bleeding. He clearly needs your help.

You take a deep breath and then-

“Come up to my place with me. I can stitch your hand,” you offer.

Barry’s eyes widen.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out,” Barry tries.

“Trust me, you’re not putting me out at all,” you insist.

You and Barry lock eyes. Your heart skips a beat. He makes you feel nervous but in a good way. None of the guys you talked to at the bar tonight could make you feel the way you do in this exact moment. After a beat, Barry nods his head and gets out of the car.

“Thanks Y/N. I’m, uh, I’m kinda glad I ended up here,” Barry says sincerely. 

You bite down on the bottom of your lip to stop yourself from giving him the biggest smile. You’re still trying to play it cool.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

[pvri-more]

Love Within a Forlorn World: The Beginning

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Panic attack and mentions of depression. Just a general sad theme, nothing bad. There is definitely fluff! (Specifically Wanda just being hopelessly whipped.)

Word Count: 1,884

Summary: AU where Wanda survives the snap, separates herself from whatever is left of the Avengers and the world becomes apocalyptic.

A/N: Italics are flashbacks and in case you wanted an extra sensory component to this, listen to "Circles" by Pierce The Veil. Also, I'm no fanfic writer, this story idea popped in my head once and I figured fuck it, why not lol so there will be more chapters but bare with me as I’m new to this type of writing. I hope you like it :)

------

After the blip, things only got worse. Abandoned towns, cement cities and pavement lots, all becoming reclaimed by nature. Soulless leftover people trying to move on somehow until even that was too much to ask for. Now, Thanos’s army, the Chitauri, hunts them in hopes to take over Earth. Making every apocalyptic story a reality.

It’s been 4 years since Vision’s death & Wanda swore she’d never feel alive again. A dead woman walking. Everything was routine. Wake up, eat simply for survival, tend to her responsibilities, go to bed. Quite frankly indifferent towards being found & killed. That was until she met you.

The two of you met under less than ideal circumstances.

One warm July evening Wanda had been walking through the streets of the nearly empty town on her usual errand run. And by errand run, it pretty much meant finding one of many abandoned department stores & scavenging for supplies. Only some towns were still fortunate enough to afford working stores, Wanda’s nearest town was not one of them. One of the disadvantages of choosing to remain in solitude.

Moseying down the sidewalk, Wanda lifts her head, noticing the sky. As terrible as life was, the sunset of that evening gave her a moment to pause in awe. It had been raining earlier in the day, causing damp pavement and shallow puddles to act like mirrors for such a warm sky. Deep orange bled into the warmest pink with purple swirls to top it all off. How could a broken world still provide such beauty?

As if on cue, Wanda’s eyes scanned over to a figure nearby running out of the building & ducking behind a car in the parking lot. Something wasn’t right. Like a magnetic pull, Wanda runs to you.

You were sitting on the ground, in between two cars, your back against the front tire & your legs bent up against your chest. By the time Wanda gets to you you’re in a full blown panic attack. Your breathing is unsteady and your hands are pressed against your head as if to protect yourself and your eyes are squeezed shut trying to pretend you were anywhere but here. Then you hear footsteps. Your eyes shoot open & you wince at the figure moving closer. Being in such a state you can’t make out what it is. You shuffle away until a calming voice stops you. “Hey, it’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Wanda spoke softly, settling on her knees beside you.

Everything was foggy, but you looked at her, eventually recognizing who she was & easing a little. “Breathe. Just breath. What’s going on?” Wanda said. “Th-there here.” Your voice cracked just above a whisper. Instantly, Wanda knew what you meant. The Chitauri.

Steadying yourself you continued, “A couple of them.. they were inside. I was getting some food when I saw one down the aisle. It didn’t see me. I just got out in time.” You took a sharp, quivering breath in. Wanda’s anxiety rises at what you just said but she keeps her composure. Her eyes examined your surroundings to make sure you both were still safe before they returned to you. “Are you hurt at all?” She asked, giving you a quick scan. A quiet “No.” escaped your lips. “Good. We shouldn’t stay here any longer though, come with me ok?” Wanda asked. Waiting for your approval before taking you back to her place.

Night falls once you make it back to Wanda’s house. It’s quiet. Just the sounds of the wood floor creaking with Wanda’s steps and the gentle hum of crickets outside. “What’s your name?” Wanda asks from the other side of the kitchen. She pours you some tea while you wait at the kitchen table. “Y/n” you responded, looking down, fiddling with your fingers. “Pretty” she says sweetly, giving you a gentle smile as she makes her way to sit across from you, handing you the tea. Still shaken up you take the mug & thank her but keep your head down. Wanda’s eyebrows lift into a look of concern as she looks at you. “I have food if you’re hungry. Whatever you want, don’t be afraid to ask.” She says, trying to ease your nerves. “I’m good right now, thank you.” You reply.

A couple minutes of silence pass before you speak again. “I’m sorry about back there. Thank you for helping me. I’d probably still be stuck there, too scared to move if it wasn’t for you.” Wanda’s sympathetic eyes look at you, silently wishing you’d look up. She waved you off, “Oh please, don’t apologize. I’ve been exactly where you were. None of this is easy but you’re safe here ok? I promise.” At that last part you finally look up at Wanda, smiling in appreciation. Her stomach flutters & her lips form a soft smile as she finally sees you not in a complete state of distress. How beautiful, she thinks to herself.

Suddenly the last remaining ember within Wanda sparked again and little by little the warmth filled her body, reviving her will to live. If for nothing else, to keep seeing you. Your smile. God, she’s never seen a more beautiful woman. A more beautiful person. Wanda told you you could stay with her for as long as you needed. So you did. During that time you got to know each other. You asked about Wanda & she did the same to you. Your genuine curiosity of who Wanda really was, her past, her family, her joys, her sadness. What made her laugh, what made her angry, what she found interesting, it all made her feel special ... seen. Even before half the world’s population disappeared she always felt alone, felt cosmically unwanted & yet here was the most pure woman she’s ever met, wanting to know her.

Wanda herself couldn’t get enough of knowing you, like how you’re 2 years younger than her. She made good use of poking fun at that any time it worked in her favor. She found out that both of you were the only surviving members of your families & that as a result, you had pretty much been a vagabond since the snap. Unable to stay in your home without your family. Those photos on the wall just made you cry. The visions you’d have while looking around the house & seeing your family as it once was, it was too much. So you packed your stuff, taking the photos off the walls & the special keepsakes, and locked them away in a memory box for a later time. As unbearable as it was to look, you couldn’t part from them. You kept them safe, a way to keep your family with you, to have whenever you needed them close again. You managed fitting that & everything else in just a large backpack & left.

She learned that the panic attack she witnessed that day you both met wasn’t just a freak moment but something you’ve always dealt with. She learned what calms you down when it happens a couple more times and promised to herself that she would do everything in her power to ease your worries.

In return you learned about Wanda’s depression and her fear of abandonment. How she designed her life around never letting people in in order to save herself from the heartbreak. But the morning you decided you didn’t want to overstay your welcome, Wanda stopped you, telling you it’d be nice to have you stay. So you did.

So the two of you stuck together. The rest of June to October are spent with the two of you settling in together, two lost strangers in need of refuge and kind company. You tend to the garden on the outside of Wanda’s old house which was set somewhere in the country. She stumbled upon it in her search for a life outside of the Avengers.

The house was small & a little dated but that just made it endearing. Wanda helped you settle into your room where you ended up spending hours lounging & falling into easy conversations about anything & everything. Wanda confesses how her powers make her feel uncontrollable. How she scares herself sometimes. All the reckless, emotion driven accidents she never meant for. You talk about all the sad things but also all the good things, like how you both share a love for rock music. That provoked Wanda to tell you she plays guitar but despite your comedic pleading, refuses to play in front of you. You even trade off on who cooked dinner each night. Where Wanda would eat for enjoyment. She could taste the flavors again.

Wanda falls for you.

————

It’s early November now & winter is creeping up. Snow started to fall as the two of you sat in the living room, one lamp turned on making it incredibly cozy. Wanda dug through the pile of left behind VHS’s trying to find a movie to watch. “I wonder how old the couple who used to live here was. No way they were any younger than 70. I wonder if they had a family & just lived here for like 50 years.” Wanda spoke while showing you two movies to choose between. “That one.” You pointed. Continuing as Wanda smiled, walking away & placing the unchosen movie back in the box. “I’d like to think that’s what it was. A sweet family, too precious for the 21st century.” Wanda giggled in response as she put in the VHS. Walking back towards you, you lift your blanket up to welcome her under. The two of you sit comfortably on the couch, close yet not cuddled up. As bad as she wanted it, closeness was something Wanda still struggled with.

An hour in & you’re dozing off. Slowly but surely your body leans over inch by inch, finally finding yourself most comfortable resting your head on Wanda’s lap allowing sleep to envelope you.

And there goes Wanda’s heart again. A mixture of warmth, safety & fear. It was unfamiliar territory, especially over the last 4 years, to have someone cuddle up to her. Her life had made her distant. Always once removed from anything that brought her joy because she knew it’d inevitably be taken from her. Not to mention that although Wanda’s always known she’s had an interest in girls, Sokovia was never the safest place to explore that side of her. A couple failed attempts with a couple girls back home as a teenager were hardly comparable to the moment she found herself in right now & she doesn’t even know how you feel, it could all just be wishful thinking. As the saying goes, old habits die hard. Unlearning years of shame & heartbreak doesn’t happen overnight but Wanda tries.

So to ease her mind Wanda just looks at you. All those expectations, all those fears, what did they matter now? The world was one strong gust of wind away from disintegrating anyway. Humans are being hunted by space robots, people are slowly going mad, Sokovia didn’t exist anymore, the life she had before the snap doesn’t even exist anymore. All she knew was that right here, right now, she feels the safest she’s felt in years. She wants you & she will do whatever she has to to keep you safe, to make you happy, to keep you here with her.

———

Chapter 2: Thanksgiving

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi! I'm very curious about something regarding the Spanish language. I'm currently studying A2 Spanish but I had this question and my teacher did not seem too willing to discuss it. Here it goes:

I know that Spanish has, something my Spanish teacher says, linguistic gender. I was wondering how do the people who don't align themselves with the gender binary (masculine and feminine) speak/write in it? I have read this article about Spanish speaking people from US adding "x" Or "@" and people from Argentina using "e" to make the words gender neutral.

Thank you so much for responding, whenever you get to it. Also love your blog. ❤

Short answer, in general speaking terms people are tending towards the -e now because the other two are very hard to actually speak, and because Spanish-speakers feel the -e is more authentic

What you're most likely to see in Spanish is masculine plural as the default, or in written things you might see todos y todas or like un/una alumno/a "a student", or like se busca empleado/a "employees wanted" / "looking for an employee"

If it's something official or academic you typically include both [todas y todas] or you go masculine plural [todos] unless it's specifically feminine plural

-

Related, linguistic gender applies to all things, not just people. Why is la mesa "table" feminine, but el libro "book" masculine? Just linguistic gender. I can tell you that most loanwords (that aren't people) in Spanish are masculine, and that there are certain words that come from Greek are masculine, and that -ista words are unisex most of the time... And I can tell you there are some words like testigo or modelo that are unisex and don't change for gender. Aside from that, speaking about nouns and grammatical gender... those particular things are harder to parse for regular people, but if you go into the field of linguistics you can explore that more deeply. Some of it is source language (i.e. "it came from Latin this way") or things like that. And in general when talking about nouns it's unimportant and not considered sexist, that's just how it is.

There is such a thing where it gets a little too far the other way and people will say "history? what about herstory" which is a nice thought but the etymology has nothing to do with gender there

When it comes to people - and when it comes to gendered attitudes - that's where it gets more confusing and more complicated.

I believe there was an experiment where people had French and Spanish speakers [I believe it was Spanish] try to identify how a "fork" would sound. French people gave it a more feminine voice because "fork" is feminine in French, while Spanish speakers gave it a more masculine voice because it's masculine in Spanish.

Whether we like it or not, certain gendered things do influence our thoughts and feelings and reactions. A similar thing in English exists where the old joke was something like "There was a car accident; a boy is rushed to the ER and the surgeon but the father was killed. When they got to the ER the doctor said 'I can't operate on him, he's my son!'" and it's like "well who could the doctor be?" ...and the doctor is his mother. We associate "doctor" as masculine and "nurse" as feminine.

There's a gender bias in our language thought patterns, even though the language changes. And that does exist in Spanish too, to different extents.

There are certain cultural and gendered stereotypes or connotations attached to certain words, many tend to be more despective or pejorative when it's women.

For example - and I know this has changed in many places or it isn't as prevalent - el jinete "horseman/rider", while the female form is la amazona "horsewoman/rider". Because la jinete or la jineta was sometimes "promiscuous woman".

There were also debates about things like la presidente vs. la presidenta or what the female version of juez should be, whether it should be la juez or la jueza

Most languages with gendered language have varying degrees of this, and all languages I'm aware of have gendered stereotypes related to professions or cultural attitudes in some way, and not just for women, and not all in the same way with some of them being very culturally based

-

The longer answer involves a bit of history, and I'll be honest, some of it is contested or considered a little controversial in Spanish-speaking countries particularly in the conservative parts (which honestly should come as no surprise)

The first symbol that I know of that came about was the X

First piece of contested history: As far as I know, it was the trans/queer and drag communities in Latin America who started the trend of X. When there were signs or bulletins that had the gendered endings - specifically masculine plural as the default plural - people would write a big X through the O. This was a way of being inclusive and also a very smash the patriarchy move.

Some people attribute this to women's rights activists which may also be true, but a good portion of the things I read from people say it was the trans/queer/drag communities in Latin America doing this.

I've also read it originated in Brazil with Portuguese; still Latin America, but not a Spanish-speaking country.

Where it's most contested is that some people will say that this trend started in the Hispanic communities of the United States. And - not without reason - people are upset that this is perceived as a very gringo movement.

That's why Latinx is considered a very American-Hispanic experience

-

The arroba (@) is relatively new. I remember seeing it in the 2000s. I don't know if it existed earlier for gender inclusivity.

People used it because it looks like a combination of O and A, so it was meant to be cut down on saying things like todos y todas or niños y niñas in informal written speech

I remember quite a few (informal) emails starting like hola tod@s or muy buenas a tod@s or things like that

I think of it more as convenience especially in the information age where you never knew who you were talking to and it's easier than including both words, especially when masculine plural might be clumsy or insensitive

Still, it's practically impossible to use the @ in spoken Spanish, so it's better for writing casually. You also likely won't be allowed to use the @ in anything academic, but in chatrooms, blogs, or forums it's an option

-

I love the E ending. And the gender neutral form in singular is elle... so it's él "he", ella "she", and elle "they (singular)"

The -e ending is I think became more common within the past 10 years though it might have existed longer than that. These sorts of changes tend to come from the queer or trans communities and tend to be more insular before becoming more of an outside thing that then the general population finds out about

It came about because there are some adjectives in Spanish that end in -e that are unisex. It's not an A, it's not an O, but it's something grammatically neutral for Spanish

It's not as awkward as X, and E exists very firmly in Spanish so it's not perceived as some outside (typically gringo) influence

The good news is, it's pretty widespread on the internet. Not so much in person (yet), but especially in Spain and Argentina at least from what I've seen, particularly in the queer communities and online culture.

The only issues with it are that for non-native speakers, you have to get used to any spelling changes. Like amigo and amiga, but to use the E ending you have to add a U... so it's amigue.

That's because there are certain words where you have to do spelling changes to preserve the sound; gue has a hard G sound like -go does [like guerra]... but ge has the equivalent of an English H sound [gelatina for example]. Another one is cómico/a "funny" which would go to cómique. Again, because co has a hard C/K sound, while ce is a soft sound more like an S or in some contexts TH/Z sound; like centro is a soft sound, while cola is a hard sound

Unless you make it to the preterite forms where you come across like pagué, alcancé, practiqué with those types of endings... or subjunctive forms, pague, alcance, practique ... Basically you'd have to be exposed to those spelling rules or you'd be really confused if you were a total beginner.

It all makes sense when you speak it, but spelling might be harder before you learn those rules

The other drawback is that the E endings are sometimes not applicable. Like in damas y caballeros "ladies and gentlemen" there's not really a gender neutral variation on that, it's all binary there. And while la caballero "female knight" does exist, you'd never see a male variation on dama; the closest I've ever seen is calling a guy a damisela en apuros "damsel in distress" in some contexts where the man needs rescuing, and it's feminine una/la damisela, and it's very tongue-in-cheek

There are also some contexts like jefe vs jefa where I guess you would say jefe for "boss" if you were going the neutral route, but it's a bit weird because it's also the masculine option.

I can't speak for how people might feel about those if they're non-binary or agender because every so often you kind of get forced into the binary whether you like it or not

I totally support the E, I just recognize there are some limitations there and it's quirks of the Spanish language itself

Important Note: Just to reiterate, E endings are the ones most Spanish-speakers prefer because it's easiest to speak and doesn't have the American connotation that X does in some circles

-

Where it gets very "Facebook comment section" is that you'll see many Latin Americans traditionalists and conservatives claim that "this is just the gringos colonizing our language" and "grammatical gender doesn't matter in Spanish". They'll say that the "gender movement" is an American feminist movement and that it's a gringo thing and doesn't reflect actual Latin Americans or Spanish-speakers

Which on the one hand, yes, English does have a lot of undue influence on other languages because of colonization, and American influence and meddling in Latin American politics is a big important issue

But as far as I'm aware of the X (and especially the E) were created by Latin Americans

The other issue I personally have is that any time this conversation comes up, someone will say something like somos latinOs and claim that masculine plural is gender neutral

To that I say, first of all, "masculine plural" is inherently gendered. Additionally, there is a gender neutral in Spanish but it's lo or ello and it's only used with "it" so it sounds very unfriendly to use on an actual person... and in plural it looks like masculine plural and everything applies like masculine plural

Second, the reason masculine plural is default is because of machismo. It's more important that we don't possibly misgender a man, so it has to be masculine plural. It's changed in some places, but growing up when I was learning Spanish, if it was 99 women and 1 man you still had to put masculine plural

I'm not opposed to there being a default, and I understand why it's easier to use masculine plural, but some people get very upset at the idea of inclusive language

...

In general, my biggest issues with these comments come when people act like non-binary/queer/trans people don't exist in Spanish-speaking countries, like English invented them somehow. So it's nice to see linguistic self-determination and seeing native speakers using the E endings.

[r3almellow]

Birthday Breakfast (Happy Birthday, Gavin!)

Happy belated birthday to our favorite Bird Cop! 

I’m late! I’m so sorry, guys! I really hope this little drabble is to your liking! You know I’m the typo queen, so I’m sorry for that in advance! I did the best I could! 😭

Warning: Slightly NSFW

-

Morning runs always filled Gavin with enough energy to get through the day. The way his blood pumped as his sneakers hit the pavement and the use of his controlled breathing as the moist air entered his lungs filled him with so much adrenaline. He wasn’t sure what the day had in store for him, but he was ready to tackle it head on.

He was also ready to get home to you. Seeing you in the morning was the true start to his day.  He could see it now. As he’s getting out of the shower after washing off the sweat from his run, you’ll stumble into the bathroom trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. He’ll kiss your cheek as you mumble a tired ‘good morning’ with your toothbrush in hand. By the time you’re finished, breakfast is already prepared and waiting while Gavin adds the final piece of toast to a plate on the table. Then you would spend the next hour or so enjoying each other’s company before getting ready for work.

It was a routine that Gavin loved and would never change for the world. So, when he walked through the doors of his home and was met with the sight of you happily humming in the kitchen with a whisk in one hand and a bowl in the other, he was completely caught off guard.

You turned around hearing the front door close with a bright smile gracing your lips.

“Good morning!” Your voice was cheery for someone who was up earlier than normal. Setting down the contents in your hand, you wiped your hands on your apron then pranced over to Gavin, standing on the tips of your toes to give him a small kiss.

No matter the type of kiss, Gavin always found himself yearning for more. Could you blame him? They were addicting. It was practically impossible to resist the feel of your soft plush lips against him whether it was on his lips, cheek, or other parts of his body.

Gavin leaned down like a magnet drawn to your lips, not wanting to part from you. You giggled and whispered a “Happy birthday” before stepping back to look up at him.

That’s right. It was his birthday.

It was kind of hard to forget his birthday when you made it a point to bring it up every chance you got ever since the clock struck midnight on July 1st. Gavin was never one to celebrate his birthday. He was usually busy with work or just spent the day running his usual errands before cracking open a cold beer and mindlessly watching whatever he could find on TV at the end of the day.

You, however, hated the idea of him not doing anything special on a day where he should be appreciated and loved ten times more than normal. But Gavin made it difficult. Every year you asked him what he wanted to do and each time he said the same thing.

“I just want to spend time with you.”

It frustrated you to no end. You wanted to shower him with so much love and affection on his special day. You wanted to take him out and buy him as many gifts as possible to show how much you appreciated him being born, but he was so nonchalant about it all.

You knew the reason why. His birthdays as a child weren’t exactly filled with balloons, party hats, and clowns. There was no room for that sort of thing from what you knew and that made you want to celebrate his birthday even more. You wanted to show him that his existence was important.  

“Go get cleaned up and I’ll have your super special birthday breakfast ready by the time you’re done!”

Gavin stood there for a moment contemplating his next move. He could go shower and enjoy a nice breakfast with you afterwards or he could workup an appetite partaking in something a little more lecherous. He wasn’t surprised at the sudden intrusion of salacious thoughts in his mind. You looked so cute in that pink apron and don’t think he didn’t notice that the large t-shirt you wore barely covered your boy shorts which outlined your ass perfectly.

“You could always join me.” He said in a low tone. The implications of his offer were not lost on you. It was impossible to ignore the tempting look in his eyes and the hands slowly reaching out to pull you against him. You backed away and folded your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t allow yourself to fall for his tactics when you had so much planned for today. Tickets to the “Stars and Planets” exhibit at the museum, dinner reservations at his favorite restaurant, and a night spent in a hotel room that overlooked the city. It was going to be perfect.

“No way, mister! I have a full day planned for us. Besides, I’m not done cooking.”

“I can wait.” He said with a bit of mischievousness evident in his voice.

You looked at him skeptically, placing a hand on your hip. Him waiting meant he’d get handsy and that was something you couldn’t afford, no matter how tempting the idea to have his hands run along your body sounded.

“No, you can’t.” He was never a patient person when it came to wanting you. Given the chance, he’d have you in his arms, carrying you off into the bathroom for what you suspect to be more than just a simple shower.

“Off you go, my sweaty birthday boy.” You said jokingly as you pushed him towards the bathroom. You were met with just a tiny bit of resistance from Gavin, but he reluctantly yielded to your demands.

“Alright, alright…” Poor thing sounded defeated.

You signed in relief as he walked into the bathroom. Now you could properly focus without him interfering with your plans. - You were able to finish cooking within twenty minutes. You took off your apron, admiring your handy work with a small smile. All his favorite breakfast foods were nicely prepared and ready to be eaten. They just needed to make its way to the table.  

“Gav, foods ready!” You called out only for get silence in return.

“Honey?” You called out again and still nothing. Was he okay? It wasn’t like him to not answer. You anxiously walked over to the bathroom and realized it was empty. You could still feel the heat from the steamed room but the lights were off and Gavin was nowhere to be found. Your eyebrows furrowed as you made your way to the bedroom, the only other place he could be.

“Gavin, I swear if you-“

Your words were cut off by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist. You squealed as you’re pulled into the bed.

That damn sneaky man.

Gavin nuzzled his face against yours, a strong smell of soap filling your nose. His damp hair brushed against your cheek and the warmth of his breath against your neck caused your spine to tingle. You laughed at the feel of ticklish kisses along your neck as you tried wiggling out of his hold. You quickly realized Gavin was only half dressed his torso warm and comfortable. It made you want to melt into him.

No, this was his way of getting what he wanted. You had to fight this or your perfect birthday meal would get cold.

“Baby, I don’t want the food to get cold.” You whined. He ignored you, the kisses slowly turning into small nibbles against your exposed neck. He knew your weakness all too well.

With a deft hand he slipped under your t-shirt surprised to come into contact with the swell of your breast. Gavin mentally cursed at the t-shirt realizing that was what deprived him of seeing you only wearing an apron. What he wouldn’t give to see your breasts spilling from the sides of the pink rabbit themed apron, wearing only a thong, but that was a fantasy he’d have to explore another time.

“Gav-ah…” He pinched your nipple roughly.

“Its my birthday, right? I think I deserve to eat my dessert early.” He whispered against your skin. You weren’t sure what he meant by that until you suddenly found yourself laying on your back at the edge of the bed and him kneeling on the carpeted floor with your legs draped over his shoulders. He wasted no time ridding you of your boy shorts, tossing them to the floor.  

“Th-this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” You wanted to sound irritated with Gavin’s antics but the way his lips pressed against your inner thigh, trailing dangerously close to the wetness between your legs, had your body screaming. All it would take was just one stroke and you’d be his to devour.

Gavin looked up at you from his position on the floor his golden eyes filled with lust.

“I want to eat what my girl has so graciously prepared for me...”

-

I know I could’ve continued! 🙈

This was actually going to go down a whole different route. It was going to be so wholesome with people like Eli and Minor making an appearance, but then I was like...NAH! I’ll probably save that part for next year! Thank you all for reading! 

Please check out my MLQC Masterpost! 

[sugurus-slxt]

Hello love! I have an emergency request if you have the time. May I request hc of Bokuto, Tendou and Kenma comforting their s/o after their cat suddenly passed away? I'm struggling to cope and in need of some comfort. If this request makes you uncomfortable or you don't have time, it's okay to ignore it!! Thank you in advance if you write it and have a great day or night!

Comforting Their S/O when their Pet Dies

A/Note: I’m really sorry about your cat, may they rest in peace. I hope this makes you feel better. I’ve never written comfort for death but I hope this is alright. I kind of tried to make it for pets in general f that’s ok but Kenma’s is specifically for a cat. I hope you have a great night or day as well. My condolences, Love <3 ~ Sar-chan.

Warning: Mentions of death and use of the word pussy (once)

Bokuto Kōtarō

Bokuto has you in his arms in a heartbeat once he’s near. If he is far he runs all the way to you because he knows you need the comfort.

He’d hold you on his lap letting you bury your face in his chest, while he strokes your and rubs comforting circles on your back.

Bokuto doesn’t mind if you stain his shirt with tears, he’ll let you cry but he might start crying too. His hair will deflate seeing you liked this, also because he adored your pet.

I’m sorry but I honestly think Bokuto is the type to accidentally say, “We’ll get you a new one.” If he sees you tear up more he’ll constantly apologise over and over.

Bokuto does have a good read of people and is very perceptive but I think he might call Akaashi to figure out how to help. Because it’s not that he doesn’t know he’s just torn between opting to distract you but he doesn’t want you to feel invalidated or letting you continuously wallow, considering it might help you release it all.

He is constantly reassuring you and telling you comforting things. He opts for a mixed idea because he does want you to release your emotions. Bokuto thinks it’s better that you do not bottle it up. But he doesn’t want you to keep crying because he hates seeing you like this.

----

“Baby?” he’d quietly call you to look up at him. “Hmmm,” you hummed in response, and he’d capture your chin tilting your head to look up at him. Bokuto wipes the tears from your eyes with his thumb and places a kiss on your forehead, “I know this is hard on you and I’m sorry about what I said earlier baby. I know they were irreplaceable and super special, I wasn’t thinking,” he apologised, his regret viable in his eyes. “I- it’s ok Bo. I- I k- know you didn’t mean it,” you tried to reassure him breaths shallow from crying. “Thank you, baby. I know you can’t control your emotions but you need to stop crying even if it’s for a little bit. You’ll get a headache and your eyes will hurt. how about we wash your face, clean that nose, and I’ll get you some ice cream?” he suggests hopefully, he just wants to help you.

“I’m sorry-,” you start off but he stops you. “Hey. Hey. Hey, there is no need for you to be sorry, this is completely valid, I just wanna help you. We don’t have to if you don’t want to baby,” he pulls you to his damp chest again stroking your hair. “Well um I don’t wanna get a headache either but I’m afraid I already have one,” you laugh a little, “I don’t mind ice cream, that would be nice but thank you. Thank you for everything.” He smiles at you so warmly, “This is nothing ok. I’m here for you always, now let’s get some yummy ice cream and we can talk if you want. I love you, ok. Always.”

Tendō Satori

Tendou definitely makes you chocolates, because he knows comfort food and sweets tend to help bring up a person’s moods but he won’t rush you to eat them as soon as he gets there.

He definitely is someone who tries to lighten the mood with humor; he’ll tell you jokes to make you laugh and smile but might just get it wrong.

Tendou wants you to express yourself but he also thinks this is an experience to make you stronger so he will definitely remind you of your strength and to remember that you had good times with your pet.

He’ll remind you that you’ll always carry that memory of them and as long as you remember you can keep their spirit alive.

He doesn’t want you to forget but he will try to help you accept it, he’ll brush your hair out of your face and wipe your tears then he’ll give you kisses and hugs to remind you that he’s going to be there for as long as you need.

Tendou will encourage you to talk about your feelings or get them out in a way you think best. He wants to help you move on because he knows holding on to pain doesn’t exactly do anyone good.

-----

“RIP that pussy ayyy,” he jokes causing you to giggle just a bit but not for long. He quickly sweeps you into his arms apologizing, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was tryna make you laugh, and well it did kinda work,” you continue to sob into his chest, “I’m sorry I’ll stop and let you, for a while,” he just gently holds you, while whispering words of encouragement and love.

“Sweetheart, I know they meant a lot to you. I saw the way just petting them made your eyes light up but you have to be strong ok?” you nodded into his chest as combed his fingers through your hair. “I know it’s hard, all the moments and memories but you can’t forget. They were part of you, they weren’t just some pet and I know you know that. Hmmm,” he feels you clutch his shirt tighter. “I know but it hurts. I- I miss them,” you sob as he continues to play with your hair and places a kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s alright but this is an experience too, this moment is one in many to make you stronger than you already are, I know you can’t accept it now but you have to, ok. But take your time. How bout we eat some chocolate hmm?” he asks looking down at you. “Mmmmk but can we maybe watch a movie? I kinda want to ease my mind but I will talk about it later. Th-,” you go to thank him but he stops you. “No need sweetheart, I’m here for you and I’m honestly sorry about the joke but admit it, was kinda funny,” he sees you smile a little as he holds as chocolate up to your mouth.

Kenma Kozume (cat specified)

Kenma is straight forward and he will lay the facts on you as they are.

Although I think at first he’d not know what to do, maybe he’ll awkwardly pull you into a hug and offer a short it's ok, I’m here.

He will however distract you and try to keep you occupied whether it's video games, a movie, a new anime, or manga for you to read.

Kenma will probably ask his followers and subscribers to send you love and support, he thinks it's best he try to surround you with positive energy.

He’ll invite over your friends and maybe the team to help, he wants to brighten your mood and he’s sure Kuroo will say something dumb enough to make you laugh.

What he doesn’t account for is Kuroo making him wear cat ears and parading him around as your new cat.

-----

“I invited the guys over umm I don’t know if that’ll help. If you want them to go back I’ll tell them,” he asks looking at you unsure. You shake your head no, as you wipe unshed tears and blow your leaky nose, just as you finish the front door open. Lev rushes in and pulls you into a hug lifting you off the floor, and Yaku scolds him to put you down. All of them have sat you down and shower you in hugs while giving their condolences. Kuroo and Kenma are nowhere in sight and it causes you to mix feelings of worry into your sadness. Lev jokes about them being cats and maybe they’ll see him in heaven because of some weird bond causing your expression to fall and your front to fall. Suddenly Kuroo voice rings out, “I present to you, Kenma.”

Kenma walks out with a pout and then you notice the cat ears, the belled collar, and the tail, honestly you thought this funny. But your brain was clouded and you weren’t sure if to laugh or cry and you kind of ended up doing both, Kenma rushes over to you taking you into his arms, “Kuroo you made her cry again,” he scolds Kuroo who now has a look of regret gracing his features “Hey baby, it's ok I’m sorry. I’ll kill Kuroo’s cat in Minecraft later, it’ll kinda be even.” He rubs your back as Yaku scolds Kuroo . When you finally found your bearing, “Do- Don’t kill his cat. He’ll be sad like me, but he did make me laugh. I was kinda laugh-crying. You look cute and I know I can’t do anything about my cat dying Ken. It just hurts and I know your tired your best earlier. Damn, I still feel like crying but thank you all for this. Thank you Kenma,” you say burying your face into his chest. Kenma smiles and everyone starts pointing it out only for him to shout at them yet again.

I hope this helped :) I'm sorry if it didn't come out the way you'd hope.

If you liked my writing, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee?

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 4

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while, but here’s part 4 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). This is me ignoring s17!!! Sorry for the delay, this has been repeatedly deleted from my drafts for the last week & then i didn’t even edit or make changes SO idk what all that was for. anyway thank you for sticking with this story! Previous parts here: part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Or, you can read on ao3.

_______

And so it starts, you switch the engine on

We set controls for the heart of the sun

One of the ways we show our age

_______

She has no idea how she got here. Or more specifically, how she could be pressured into something like this. Maggie typically prided herself on standing firm; standing her own ground and refusing to be swayed by others. But none of that self-proclamation holds true right now.

Because she’s here. Driving Winston’s car. Trunk filled to capacity and two of her roommates squeezed into the backseat.

The hypocrisy of it all is almost infuriating. Because Maggie hates camping.

“I hate camping,” she voices her detest out loud.

An apologetic sigh can be heard from Winston next to her, where he sits passenger side. But ultimately, it’s Amelia’s voice that grabs her attention, the bewilderment making itself known from the backseat.

“Oh, come on,” there’s an element of disbelief to her tone, and Maggie locks eyes with her through the rear-view mirror.

“Step out of your comfort zone a little, Maggie!” She raises her eyebrows, beginning to gesture with her hands. Link shuffles in his seat, where he’s squeezed in tightly beside Amelia, in an attempt to free up a little space for her body language. Some of the camping supplies had ended up packed over half of the backseat, and Maggie can’t help but chuckle at the proximity of Amelia’s hand to Link’s face as she gestures absentmindedly. “It’s camping. It’s adventurous, it’s-”

Maggie has since focused back on the road, but the sudden pause in speech makes her feel uneasy. Amelia’s focus shifts from the packaged tent next to her, to the back of Winston’s head, and then back to Maggie.

“It’s sleeping in a tent,” she continues, a spark of gleam in her eyes as she scans the couple in the front seat. “Or, maybe it’s not sleeping. Hey, I mean, whatever the two of you-”

“Amelia,” Maggie cuts in, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as Winston’s hand comes to rest on her knee, giving it a soothing squeeze.

“Come on, babe,” Winston murmurs. “It’ll be fun. And plus, Karev would definitely be proud of us.”

Maggie grins a little, despite herself.

They’d been a bit all over the place, as a group of interns. A little bit too chaotic and never fully on the same page. As their resident, Karev was constantly voicing his impatience about the dynamics of the group. She partly thinks that yes, Alex would be proud of the bonding journey that they’d chosen to embark on, but the more realist part of her brain can’t ignore the obviousness that being roommates was probably bonding enough.

Maggie peeks in the rear-view once more, this time checking to make sure that Lexie and Jo are still following in the car behind them. She catches Amelia’s stare again and consequently feels the need to brace herself.

“Babe?” Amelia bites her lip, repeating the pet name Winston had just used. “What happened to ‘we’re just friends?’”

“We are friends.” Maggie sighs, trying her best to ignore the amusement that radiates from Winston at this specific call-out.

“And Link and I are friends,” Amelia’s quick with her rebuttal, tilting her head towards Link. “I don’t go around calling him babe.”

Link sucks in a breath, and then another one, with the addition of Amelia’s afterthought. “But maybe I’ll start.”

It’s subtle. The way Link’s face changes. He hides it just as quickly as it surfaces. But it’s there, she hasn’t imagined it, and it’s the first thing to make Maggie genuinely smile for the length of the trip so far.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia nudges Link with her shoulder. “I can come up with a better nickname than that.”

“Okay enough,” Maggie suppresses the grin she feels spreading across her cheeks. She reaches forward for the knob on the dashboard, turning the music up.

Link’s relief at the diversion tactic is almost palpable. Maggie can practically feel it from the backseat. She thinks maybe the feeling rising in her chest equates to sympathy.

She loves Amelia. She really does. Which is saying a lot, especially for her. It takes effort for her to grow comfortable with people, or to even relate on any level. She’s always felt a step ahead of most people in life. But Amelia really challenges her. It’s only been a couple of months since they’d met, and somewhere along the way, things changed. Amelia’s unpredictable nature had shifted from something Maggie initially feared, to something she appreciates. Like the human embodiment of the push she needs. The push she needs to take things less seriously, or the push she needs to open up and be spontaneous. Whatever the case, it’s never felt more necessary. Like she’s been missing out on it for too long. So, she tries to embrace it at every turn.

“Are we almost there?” Amelia pipes up again from the backseat. “I have to pee, and believe me, I’m down for a little side-of-the-road action if that’s what it comes down to-”

Maggie groans impatiently. But then she remembers about embracing it. So decidedly, her next words sound gentle. “We’re almost there, hold it together.”

_______

It ends up taking two full hours for six surgical interns to figure out how to set up a campsite. And even though the task is grueling, the level of teamwork somehow exceeds what they normally display during a typical hospital shift.

The sun starts to set as the second of the two tents finally stands on it’s own and everyone takes a moment to finally relax.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Link sits back against the tree on the outskirts of their surrounding area.

Jo huffs out a breath as she joins him, rolling her eyes. “That was two hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”

“What’s next?” Amelia steps out of the larger tent, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Does anyone know how to build a bonfire?”

_______

She has no idea how it got to this. How six grown adults could resort to immature party games around a campfire and feel so content about it. Maggie had been relieved when the game of ‘truth or dare’ ended as quickly as it started. She’d been hoping for something a bit more intellectual. A little less high school.

Unfortunately her hopes were never granted.

“Wait, I feel like the stakes aren’t high enough.” Amelia had tossed the observation out flimsily.

But the observation had its impact.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And then the ideas had piled on.

“Loser has to cover my scut work in the ER all week.”

“No way.”

“Loser has to make us each a s'more.”

“Nah. Stakes not high enough.”

“Loser has to jump in the lake.”

Amelia had voiced the last one, resulting in a surprised type of silence. The type of silence that could raise stakes.

It was the ultimatum they were looking for, apparently. And to much of Maggie’s dismay, they hadn’t moved on to an intellectual game. Nothing worth raising the stakes over, at least.

Because they’d settled on a game of ‘never have I ever.’

“Okay, okay. My turn. What have I not done…?” Amelia trails off, deep in thought, and it earns some chuckles from the group. “Oh! Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Suspectful eyes dart around the bonfire, and Link’s attempt to conspicuously fold down a finger fails.

“Link!”

Jo giggles hysterically.

“You have?” There’s surprise in Amelia’s voice, and it corresponds with the way her face lights up.

“You haven’t?” Link bites back.

“Well, almost, I guess. But-”

“Okay!” Jo interjects. “No need for context! That’ll just slow us down. Link, your turn.”

“Okay,” Link grins determinedly across the bonfire, eyes landing on Amelia. “Never have I ever almost had a threesome.”

Amelia scoffs, dropping a finger.

“Wait!” Maggie fast-tracks her disapproval. “Are we singling people out now? The game will end too quickly if we-”

“Never have I ever been named after an iconic literary figure.” Amelia jumps in again, completely ignoring Maggie’s objection.

Link drops a finger, rolling his eyes. Too easy.

“Never have I ever slept with Mark Sloan.”

He sounds proud of this one. And all focus drifts to Amelia, whose eyes narrow only slightly as she drops another finger.

“You did what?” Maggie seems skeptical.

“You did what? When?” And Lexie’s voice sounds strained.

“Shit, sorry. Too far?” Link’s pride genuinely replaces itself with worry.

“I never meant for it to be a secret.” There’s something distinct about Amelia’s tone as she jumps back into the game, clearly with the intention of going after Link again. “Never have I ever-”

“No!” Maggie seems to be the only one intervening at this point. “No, stop. My turn. If we play it your way, this game will be over in two seconds.”

Amelia and Link shrug dismissively amidst the general hums of agreement.

“Never have I ever…” Maggie pauses, taking a moment to truly think on it. She racks her brain for ways to prolong the game. “Never have I ever been arrested!”

Amelia slowly drops her last finger, a grimace consuming her face, and Maggie’s mouth opens wide in shock.

“Amelia, what,” she breathes. “I was trying to keep people in the game. What-”

“We agreed on no context!” Amelia is quick to refute, forcing a grin as she repeats the request spoken earlier.

“Okay….” She draws out her response, and the next part of her sentence sounds quiet, or laced with secondhand defeat. “But you lost the game already.”

“That’s fine,” Amelia is just as quick to stand from her chair, shrugging casually at what that entails.

“Amelia-”

“To the lake? Or am I doing this without witnesses?”

Maggie’s brows furrow at the bitterness that exists in that question, but then Amelia turns, walking away from them, and Maggie is the first to go after her.

_______

"Amelia, you’re the one who made the rule. You can’t back out now.”

They’re all huddled together at the sandy area near the dock that edges out into the dark lake, and Maggie can’t hold back her impatience. She’s a rule-follower, after all. She's also cold. And she just wants to be by the bonfire again.

“I know, I know. I’m….” Amelia trails off, exhaling harshly. “Just give me a minute.”

There’s momentary quiet. The kind of quiet that nearly gives room for everyone to re-think what’s about to happen. But, if anyone's thoughts were the loudest, they were Amelia’s.  

“The sun was still out when I made up this rule!”

That’s true. Maggie can give her that. It’s late now, purely dark outside except for the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake.

“We don’t know what’s in there…” Amelia adds, eyes focused on the body of water before them. “We don’t know if it’s safe to swim here.”

“It’s a state park,” Winston chuckles.

“And there’s a sign right there,” Lexie adds matter-of-factly, nodding towards the edge of the sand. “No lifeguard on duty. Swim at your own risk.”

“Amelia, it's a swimming beach.”

There’s an element to Amelia’s expression that Maggie sees herself in. It provokes that feeling. The heart-lurching feeling that comes with the awareness that you can’t bring yourself to do the thing you intend to do. The restlessness that rises with the opposition of your mind moving miles a minute but your feet remaining frozen where you stand. It takes place in the nervous system. And it’s like the physical manifestation of not being able to rip the bandaid off, or not being able to take the plunge, to be more literal in this scenario.

Suddenly, Maggie’s hit with the fleeting recognition that everyone’s the same deep down. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

The revelation almost makes her feel sympathy. Almost.

Because Amelia’s version of hiding it was turning out to be displaced over-confidence.

“I knew you were all talk and no-”

“I’ll jump in with you,” Link interrupts, nudging Amelia, who shakes from her daze as she turns away from the lake, locking eyes with Link.

“Shit, I’m down, too,” Jo shrugs. “I’m right behind you guys.”

A look of pure skepticism crosses Amelia’s face, and Link just starts to grin, hugely.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No, no, no.”

Because she knows what this is about to turn into. And then it’s all happening, fast.

Link is stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a pile on the grass just left of the dock. And then he’s running. His feet clamber against the wood paneling as he takes off over the structure that extends along the shore and into the body of water.

There’s a huge splash. And then he resurfaces, gasping.

“It’s not that deep, come on!” He yells. “And it’s warm, too. Like a hot tub!”

The next thing Maggie registers is that Jo is following suit, peeling off her sweatshirt and tossing it towards Link’s pile of clothes.

She feels Winston’s hand grip her shoulders, gently pushing her towards the dock as he murmurs “Come on, babe.”

There’s another splash somewhere, and then Jo resurfaces, giggling hysterically. "Link!” She gasps dramatically, “You liar, this is fucking freezing!”

And all Maggie can think is this is so unfair.

_______

It’s so unfair.

The fact that five people have somehow endured jumping into this lake and yet, Amelia remains unscathed. Secure, on dry land, a smirk on her face that can only signify that she thinks she’s won.

“Amelia!” Maggie yells once again. “You have thirty seconds to get into this water.”

“Maggie-”

“No way,” Maggie cuts her off before the smug tone can set her off even further. She lets go of Winston’s shoulder, which she’s been holding onto for dear life since she jumped in, and she swims closer to the dock. Closer to Amelia. “I won’t let you play us like this.”

Amelia grins further, dipping just her toes in the water. “Maggie, I’m not trying to play anyone, I-”

“Get in the water, Amelia!” Maggie shouts, but her impatience only leads to more smugness on Amelia’s behalf.

She almost gives up. Accepts defeat. But then Link is joining her, inching towards Amelia on the dock, whose expression falters only slightly as they approach.

“Should we splash her?” Maggie tilts her head towards Link, inquisitive edge to her voice. “We could splash her.”

The threat seems to be the push Amelia needs. She shakes her head incessantly as they make their advance, and she takes a deep breath before she goes to remove her jeans, adding them to the pile of clothes that everyone else has stripped off.

Jo whistles from somewhere further out into the lake and Amelia’s smirk returns, a complete result of the knowledge that she has an audience. Her classic Harvard sweatshirt gets added to the pile and then she’s on an even playing field with everyone else, dressed down to whatever underwear she’d thrown on this morning.

They continue their approach, and Amelia looks down just as a burst of wind forcibly shakes the branches of a tree above, thus causing her to wrap her arms around herself.

“You’ll warm up faster if you get in, Shepherd.” Link says in a low tone.

“I know,” Amelia’s tone is just as low. “But I’m not jumping.”

“What happened to adventurous?!” Maggie mocks her. Not harshly, but more so aiming to re-inspire the fearlessness that previously had been.

“I’m not jumping in,” Amelia repeats as she sits at the edge of the dock, letting the water hit her up to about mid-shin. “I’m just gonna kind of slide in….” She trails off as Link pushes forward, now in shallow enough water to stand. And when Amelia goes to wrap her arms around herself again, Maggie swears it’s out of modesty this time.

“It’s harder that way,” Link smiles up at her. “But okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats his sentiment, but doesn’t make any move to get into the water.

“Okay,” Maggie interjects, directing her next words at Link. “As apparently the only rule-follower here, I give you full permission to do whatever it takes to get her into this water already.”

Her instructions result in a mischievous twitch of Link’s lips, and conversely, a look of complete betrayal from Amelia.

“Your rules.” Maggie quietly defends herself.

Link turns back to Amelia, who meets his gaze with pure panic in her eyes. But he steps closer anyway, placing his hands around her shins and pulling her a couple inches closer to where he stands in the water.

She gasps. Her hands fly out, landing on his shoulders. “Wait wait wait!” She cries, the alarm in her voice matching the frantic action of her nails digging into his skin.

Link stops his movements, placing his hands on her knees as he tries to read her facial expression.

Her eyes dart between his. “You swear it’s not too cold?”

“It’s not cold, Amelia,” he murmurs, moving his hands underneath her bare thighs and pulling her forward an inch more.

Maggie looks between the two, suddenly feeling out of place, or like she’s witnessing a private moment. But, she can’t tear her eyes away. She feels transfixed by the eye contact happening between the pair, and she lets out a stunned chuckle.

“It’s not cold,” Link repeats, and now Maggie scoffs. Because this moment is becoming almost unbelievable with tension. But then Link’s expression changes. Just as quickly as flipping a switch. The facet of mischief returns to his eyes and then he’s opening his mouth again.

“And I’m so sorry for this!” He shouts as he finally pulls Amelia into the water, throwing his head back with laughter as she resurfaces before him.

Her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders in a viselike grip. “Alright, screw you for that!” She laughs as she comes to her senses, consequently letting go and distancing herself from Link. “But thank you, I guess."

“My pleasure.”

Maggie watches, eyes burning with curiosity, and she’s not able to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips as the pair move as far away from each other as possible. The interaction is way too amusing, and part of her feels like, if she were the menacing type, this would be the perfect opportunity to pay back some of Amelia’s relentless teasing with some of her own.

“Can we get out now?” Lexie swims up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m kinda over this.”

“I just got in. Was that for no reason?!”

“And whose fault is that?” Maggie snickers. But it doesn’t sound harsh at all, as she offers Amelia a comforting smile.

When they eventually leave the shoreline, Maggie feels a sense of fondness course through her. Or maybe protectiveness. Whatever the feeling, it was definitely the stark opposite of her previous annoyance with the way the evening was turning out.

She carefully observes as Amelia slows behind the group, and she slows with her, matching her pace.

Amelia offers her a small smile, before a shiver takes over her body, interrupting her guise. It makes sense, Maggie thinks. Because soaking wet hair and the sun going down in the middle of nowhere might just bring on that sort of involuntary action.

But she can’t ignore the shift in energy. The sudden vanishing of the confidence and even the playful competitiveness.

“You okay?” She eventually asks.

“Tired.” Amelia only offers a shrug, her thumbnail nearly reaching the corner of her mouth in a restless action. But it’s like she catches herself, as Maggie’s stare burns into her, and instead she drops her hands to her sides.

“Me too,” Maggie’s voice is soft, and an impulse rises in her that screams comfort. Suddenly, her arm is wrapping around Amelia’s shoulder tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get some sleep.”

_______

It’s a known fact that Maggie hates camping. She can think of several reasons for that. One of the side effects she’d fail to consider, though, was the consequent lack of rest that would come with it.

It couldn’t be any later than 5am, she concludes, as she unzips her and Winston’s tent and steps out into the dark campground.

To much of her surprise, she’s not alone. She’s not the only one experiencing the unwanted side effects of sleeping in a tent.

“Hey,” Amelia’s voice sounds gravelly, as she perks up from the chair she’s seated at around the empty bonfire. “Good morning.”

“How can it be morning?” Maggie groans. “Does it really count as morning when you didn’t get any sleep at all?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

Maggie frowns. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Link snores. And Lexie talks in her sleep….” Amelia weakly attempts a smile, and it just makes Maggie’s frown deepen.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, just wish I’d slept better.”

Maggie squints, because there’s detail there that she can’t quite decipher. She scans Amelia’s face another moment, before an idea strikes.

“Do you want to go on a hike with me? Watch the sunrise?”

“You don’t really seem like the hiking type.”

“You’re right. I guess ‘hike’ is a strong word. But anyway, how about it?”

Amelia stares blankly at her for a long moment, before eventually she nods, standing up.

“Alright,” Maggie grins. “Let me tell Winston where we’re going first.”

_______

They take a marked path. Signs at every turn highlight for them which way to go. It’s a few minutes into the hike before either of them speaks. It’s Amelia who opens up the conversation.

“Ready to be home?”

Maggie laughs. “Absolutely. I’ve been ready since the moment we got here.”

“Well, hopefully they have the cars all packed by the time we get back.”

Maggie nods, then reaches for the water bottle she’d brought with her, taking a few sips.

“Do I tease you and Winston too much?”

The question completely catches Maggie off guard, and she harshly swallows her sip of water.

“Huh?”

“I can be….a little overbearing sometimes. But,” Amelia offers a quick side-glance. “At least I’m self aware about that.”

“Not at all. I mean, honestly, Winston gets a kick out of it so-”

“Yeah, but do you?”

Maggie stops walking, her face muddled with confusion. It takes Amelia a moment to realize she’s stopped, and she turns around, meeting Maggie’s stare expectantly.

“Amelia….If it bothered me I would tell you.”

Amelia nods at this information, and then turns away, continuing on the path.

“Was I too harsh last night? About the rules of the game?” Maggie quickens her pace, catching up.

“No,” Amelia laughs under her breath. “We needed the discipline, I think.”

“Yeah but you didn’t need to jump into that lake. I can be a little of overbearing sometimes, too, so-”

“Nah. We balance each other out.”

Maggie squints, a little surprised by that observation. She’s taken aback by the accuracy of it, and it’s evident in her inflection.

“We kind of do, don’t we?”

Amelia beams at her, before her gaze returns to the path below. “I’m glad we came to that realization.”

Comfortable silence falls between them, and there’s a few minutes dedicated purely to the hike, before Amelia clears her throat to speak again.

“Although, I am trying to jump less. So maybe I need you to balance me out just a little more.”

“You lost me,” Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking about the lake still?”

“Metaphorically. Maybe.”

Maggie’s expression just grows more perplexed, urging Amelia to continue.

“I’ve been….historically known to jump into things. Or people. Or habits, or…” She cuts herself off with a harsh breath, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’d like to do that less. The whole….jumping blindly and hoping I’ll land, thing. So. Maybe I need you to balance me out a little more.”

Maggie nods, slowly grasping the explanation. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no,” Maggie frowns. “I’ve never been one to….do anything, really, without weighing the pros and cons first. But, I do get what you’re saying, though. Even if I can’t personally relate.”

Amelia keeps her eyes glued to the path ahead, and the lack of response forces Maggie to attempt filling the silence with her own self-reflection.

“I’ve been thinking of taking a note from you, in that way, actually. Sometimes I really need to think less.”

This makes Amelia smile. “Maybe we can try to meet in the middle somewhere.”

“Yeah, that might be good for us.”

As the conversation trails off again, Maggie can’t help but question what specifically Amelia is referencing. She doesn’t want to push, especially given her recent self-proclamation as overbearing. But part of her thinks that one last inquiry won’t hurt.

“You and Link seem to have fun.”

Amelia’s eyes snap up to Maggie’s face before the sentence is even finished.

“What makes you say that?”

There’s not an ounce of emotion in Amelia’s expression. It’s probably the best poker face Maggie has ever seen. And so she’s careful with her next words, her voice slow and questioning.

“I just mean....you know….the banter?”

“Banter?”

“Yes the banter, Amelia,” she lets out a stunned chuckle. “I don’t know how else to put it! It’s like you’re constantly play-fighting. It’s like….it’s like this weird, alluring competitiveness that’s almost uncomfortable to watch. It’s being at each other’s throats over a stupid game of ‘never have I ever.’ It’s the craziest form of flirting I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s-”

“Link and I are friends.”

“Winston and I are friends.” She bites down on her grin, trying to contain the pride that radiates as she uses Amelia’s own pointed claims against her.

“Okay, don’t pull that on me.”

“I think it’s perfectly fair-”

“Maggie.”

“Amelia.”

Two pairs of eyes tighten upon scrutinized contact.

“Amelia,” she softens her expression a bit. “All I’m saying is….despite it being weird to watch.” She releases an awkward exhale.  “I think it works. I think you’ve kinda met your match.”

“There’s no match to be made, Maggie! I’m-”

They’re both a little caught off guard by the frustration and volume of Amelia’s tone. And Amelia takes a moment to breathe before she continues, an octave lower this time.

“I’m jumping less, remember?”

Maggie wants to frown. She wants to disagree. She almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

But they’re edging towards the outskirts of the campsite. She can hear voices, and the distinct sound of car trunks slamming shut. Which signifies that they’re nearing the end of the hike, so she bites her tongue instead, because Amelia looks too exhausted to argue it more.

They clear the trees, entering the campground, and Winston watches them approach.

“Hey! Cars are packed, but it’ll be a tight squeeze again,” he smiles sympathetically. He walks forward to rest his hands on Maggie’s shoulders in familiar reassurance. “And you get to sleep in the car, because this time I’m driving.”

_______

Maggie doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

Her lack of sleep the night prior results in Winston’s refusal to let her drive. Which only bothers her a little, because the exhaustion outweighs her requisite for control.

Her eyes feel heavy as she rests her head against the window. She tries to focus on the road ahead as Winston drives; doesn't want to give up being a second pair of eyes as she sits passenger side. But her fatigue gets the best of her. Although it’s difficult to separate her overtired brain from certainty, she doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

She hears it first. Link’s chuckle.

It’s enough to shake her from her reverie. She lifts her head and tries to be conspicuous as she turns, glancing into the backseat.

Amelia’s sat in the middle seat again, squeezed tightly between the camping supplies and then Link on the other side of her. Her eyes are fighting to stay open, and she's doing that weird head bobbing thing. That subconscious move that happens quite literally before falling asleep.

“Hey. Here.”

The sound of Link’s voice causes Amelia’s eyes to widen, quickly becoming aware of herself. She continues to blink, fighting off a bout of exhaustion that Maggie completely sympathizes with.

When Amelia locks eyes with him, Link simply pats his shoulder, indicating a potential landing spot for her head.

She frowns tiredly at him.

“Just do it,” he shrugs, patting his shoulder again. “I’m a better option than that boxed tent.” He nods past her. “As far as pillows go, at least.”

Amelia seems to fight it for a second. She really does. Her eyebrows pull together as she continues to stare blankly at Link.

Maggie diverts her attention because once again, she feels like she’s intruding on some private moment. But she remains listening. She can’t help it. There’s some shuffling around and then-

“Hm.” She hears Amelia hum. “You do make a decent pillow.” It’s followed by a murmured “Thank you.”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Link’s response is barely a whisper, but Maggie can hear it still, even over the general hum of the highway below. She doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

What are friends for?

It’s enough to make her turn in her seat again, an incredulous stare plastered on her face as she raises her eyebrows in Link’s direction.

He seems not to notice her interest, or rather her disbelief. Because his focus is consumed by the dark head of hair resting against his shoulder.

Amelia’s eyes are shut tight, her expression revealed when she adjusts herself slightly against him. And then Link smiles to himself, still unaware of the scrutiny descending from the front seat.

Maggie allows the doubt to flood her mind as she turns to rest against her own window again, and she fights off a smile as she lets her eyes finally close.

Friends. Right.

//

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Scarred: Part 3

[Camp, 23:42]

...

...

*Himiko stirs awake in the night. It is very close to midnight, but she cannot sleep despite having tried to drift of hours ago. Tenko is already fast asleep.

I need some water...

*She gets up and leaves her room, but when she opens the door, she suddenly hears a strange musical sound.

Is that...?

*She walks down the hallway and into the lobby, where in the corner, she sees a large piano, with who you would expect alongside it sitting there and playing some tunes.

...

*Kaede plays Deux Arabesques L. 66 - No. 1 Andante con moto on the piano. She suddenly stops mid song and looks up as she notices Himiko.

W-Wait-! Don’t tell me I’ve been playing all night!?

Well, I guess up until now, but it’s not the morning yet. Do you really think I’d be the first person to get up in the morning?

Right, sorry...Then what are you here for?

To get some water. I can’t sleep. What about you?

Can’t really sleep either. But you know how I am. Whenever it comes down to a stressful situation, you just gotta play some piano.

Pretty sure that’s just you.

Yeah, I know...

*Himiko initially planned on going back to her room, but upon seeing Kaede in the lobby, she grabs her water and decides to stick around.

Do you only know how to play classical songs?

What do you mean?

All you really do is play songs from who knows how many years ago. But can you do anything more recent?

Like what?

I dunno...Mad World?

That’s a bit dark, isn’t it!?

Have you not played that for Shuichi? It seems like something he’d enjoy.

Look, just because Shuichi tends to wear very dark and gloomy clothing...and probably has depression...

Th-That doesn’t mean he’s some kind of edgy teen.

Suuure...But can you play it?

I don’t especially want to?

Fine...Hm...Coldplay does a lot of piano songs. Can you play any of those?

Yeah, I could give it a go. Hold on, let me get some music sheet online.

*Kaede loads up a music sheet on her phone, puts it on the stand and starts to play.

That’s more like it.

You know Himiko, I understand wanting something more modern, but there’s nothing wrong with the classics...

Huh!?

*Kaede halts as she suddenly hears something.

???: ♪ I don’t caaaare! Go on an’ teaaarr me apaaaart~ I don’t caaaare if you doooo~ Ooooooh~ OOOoooh~ ♪

That’s-

*Himiko and Kaede look up and see someone standing on the skylight.

♪ ‘Cause you’re a skyyy~ ‘Cause in a skyyy Full of stars... I think I saw Yooooou!~ ♪

Kuripa! 

You’re back!

!!?

*Kuripa disappears from the skylight, and then reappears in the doorway, stepping into the lobby.

Guess I blew my cover. But I love Coldplay. You got good taste Yumeno.

Nyeh, thanks. I-

Wait, that’s not important! What are you doing here?

I...well...

*Kuripa becomes shifty.

Well, I’ll be honest...I was KINDA waiting for you kids to go to bed so I could sneak back in, but...I didn’t expect I’d find a couple of night owls.

I was staying up because I was waiting for you to get back.

Why would you do that?

Look, I get it that you don’t want to see us, but you gotta-

What made you think that?

Well, you seemed kind of mad at us earlier.

*sigh* Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you brats.

I just thought...you brats didn’t want to see me...

Huh? Why?

Kibin told you didn’t she? About these?

*He lifts up his shirt and shows the scars from the previous day.

I figured you had several reasons for not wanting to see me after that. I lashed out at you guys...You saw a disgusting part of me...Physically AND emotionally.

And now you all probably know what it is I’ve done in the past and are holding it against me.

Kuripa. To be perfectly honest, with the way you act, I kind of figured you had a violent history, even without seeing those scars...It doesn’t make me think any less of you.

Well, it should.

Well, it doesn’t. And Himiko doesn’t want to think any less of you either! None of us do, especially after you’ve taken such good care of us!

But this is probably proof that I’m not meant to be the protective type. I can’t keep failing like this.

You haven’t failed at all Kuripa-nii! We still trust you!

No you don’t! And not to the extent you did before at least.

*Kuripa advances towards her.

I know you’re scared of me...

No, I...

Are you afraid I might...

KILL YOU!?

!!!??

*Himiko trembles and staggers back as Kuripa looms over her, but she doesn’t run away.

Y-You...wouldn’t...do that...You could never do that...!

...

*He calms down, backs up and pats her on the head affectionately.

Well, if you’re sure.

Even if you kids do hold my past against me, it’s fine. Just put up with me for two more weeks, then we can go home and we NEVER have to talk EVER again.

But we don’t want that! I wanna keep training with you!

*Kaede gets up and approaches him.

...I do too Akamatsu-

Call me KAEDE.

*sigh* I do too Kaede. And I’d be happy to.

But throughout everything, my intention for training you has been to let you protect yourself. I don’t want any of your friends thinking that I’m trying to turn you into another me.

I want to learn from you...

*She squares up to him.

But I will NEVER be like you.

...I can’t tell if you’re angry at me or if you trying to offer me sympathy.

Both honestly!

Kuripa, let me just say it straight to your face.

You think that everyone around you hates you, but you know what the truth is?

The only one who hates you...Is YOU!

!?

*Kuripa pauses for a moment, then walks past Kaede and leans on the piano.

Maybe you’ve got a point...

...

By the way, if I might change the subject a little...

Why is there suddenly a piano here? It just showed up randomly...

Oh, yeah, about that.

I was gonna hold some kinda party, and I was gonna ask Akamatsu to play a couple o’ songs. Like some Bohemian Rhapsody or something like that?

The only reason I was cross yesterday is because I got a call from the company who said they didn’t have permission to bring the Piano through the woods, so I had to go and get it myself. I was gonna have to spend all morning tugging this fucker through the forest, but then you guys dragged me to your beach party.

NEVER! HIRE! HERMES! EVER!

That’s why!? I thought WE did something!?

Even now...you’re still doing these things for us.

It’s what a guy’s gotta do.

...Well...

*Kaede sits down at the large instrument.

Why don’t you request me a song in preparation?

...?

...

*Himiko smirks and nods.

Well...I’ve always been curious about hearing a cover of this.

*Kuripa brings up his phone and shows Kaede a music sheet.

Someone got this for me for an occasion like this, but I do video composition and editing on the side. I like using this song as like an intro or outro. Think you can do it?

Dude. I’m the Ultimate Pianist. As long as I have a sheet, I can play a song even if I haven’t heard it before. And if I play it enough I can do it from memory.

That’s a long ass tagline.

*Kaede sits down at the piano and stars playing.

...

♪ Open up Feel the waves cut through me Hypnotized By the sounds I'm breathing in Hold tight, hold tight Chemicals collide Hold tight, hold tight Hold tight ♪

...!

*Instinctively, and Kaede’s surprise and amusement.

♪Dripping lights Paint the skies All because of you Dripping lights Paint the skies Only you Can make me move You, you, can make me move Can make me move You, you, can make me move Can make me-♪

*During the instrumental part, Kuripa bops his head back and forth with a grin on his face.

♪ You, you, can make me moooohooHOOOOooove Can make me~! ♪

*Kuripa signals for Kaede to stop there. All of a sudden, there is a round of applause.

GaahAAHa!?

A-Are you ok?

*Kuripa staggers back and falls over as the rest of the group suddenly shows up and starts applauding the performance.

What are you brats doing up? It’s late!

Yeah, how are you guys here? Aren’t the walls supposed to be soundproof?

We all got some pretty light sleep tonight it seems.

Yeah. And Himiko left the door to our room open a crack, so I heard everything.

Oh...sorry...

As soon as I realized you were back Kuripa, I woke everyone up.

Why?

Because we want to apologize to you.

*Shuichi, and everyone else bows.

I’m sorry for trying to force you to take part in our fun and games. I just figured you were the easygoing guy who went along with everything, but I guess that’s not true.

I’m sorry too. We got carried away.

And we’re all sorry we pried into your life without your permission.

And we’re sorry we berated you and called you a murderer.

You don’t have to apologize to me for that last one. It’s not exactly WRONG.

*Kuripa gets up and rests on the piano.

Listen. The reason why I don’t tell anyone about my past and my scars and...everything else really, is because if I DID, I’d be dragging them way too far into my life.

They don’t wanna see what’s beneath the surface. It’s nothing but despair and agony, for both me and the people I’ve killed. I don’t want you, or anyone else, to have any part of that.

Are you saying the Kuripa who’s taken care of us over the course of these few weeks isn’t the real one then?

Not exactly. I’m still very much me. And I still very much want to take care of you kids. I just didn’t think you’d give me the chance.

And honestly...Wanting nothing to do with me is just the obvious thing to do at the end...You guys are weird.

Says you!

The reason why we have no right to judge you is because hardly any of us our innocent.

Back in our own world, I committed genocide on a whole mafia organization. And I did it for very similar reasons to yours.

That so?

Kuripa. None of us agree with what you’ve done, but none of us have any right to hold it against you.

Please...Don’t make the assumption that we now hate you because of what we know. And don’t say things like “you should” or “you kids are crazy” or something like that.

We’ve all been pretty friendly with one another for the past week. Gonta not see why that has to end.

...

Heh. Alright then.

Then I guess you guys won’t mind if I crash whatever pool party we’re having tomorrow then?

Nyeh?

T-Tomorrow?

We’re free all day. I think we deserve a do over, don’t you?

Oh hell yeah!

*Everyone cheers.

Oh, but on ONE condition! NO taking off my clothes this time! I’ll sue you for harassment, I swear!

Yeah, yeah, sorry again...

*sigh*

*Kaede gets up.

This might be a little weird to say Kuripa...

Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve heard today...

Yeah well...I know we’ve only been properly acquainted for like, a month or so now, but...

I’m really grateful I get spend this time with you. And we should all really appreciate it. All of us together...it’s really special. And I’m very happy.

Me too Bakamatsu...

*He gives her a hug.

That being said...

Eh!?

*He suddenly breaks from said hug, grasps her by the shoulders, and glares into her eyes.

I hope you’re ready to be WRECKED in a game of volleyball tomorrow!

Oh! Hah! Yeah, bring it on!

We’re taking you down at last Team Tojoshi!

We shall see about that!

Alright, but for now, you scamps get your asses to bed! It’s late out!

*Everyone giggles as Kuripa sends them off to bed.

...Heh...Those kids are even crazier than I am...

*Once they’re all out of sight, Kuripa stops hiding his happy tears.

[bullshittierlists]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DANGANRONPA V3 (and probably the other games, too, just to be safe)

So, just as a heads up, I made this list a few months ago, I think in the middle of chapter 4. I was going to update it, but I realized that any feelings I had were just made stronger and the list was still relatively accurate. Here are my thoughts:

I see no god up here other than me

Kirumi Tojo - As you may know about me, I can typically tell who my favorite characters are going to be before I indulge myself in a series. This has especially rung true throughout Danganronpa, I was able to correctly guess Taka and Gundham as my respective favorites before actually seeing them in action. Let me tell you that Kirumi surprised me. I originally guessed K1-B0 as my favorite and while he’s still up there, he is nowhere near Kirumi. I realized she was my favorite the moment chapter 2 ended. Not only were her execution and plan wonderful and brilliantly done, her last-ditch plea to convince everyone to let her live sold her for me. Not only did this plea make sense, it almost worked and I kinda wish it would’ve. Her motive was almost completely selfless and she worked damn hard to escape. Her execution was the only time I cried during this game because I wanted so badly for her to escape, but I knew that all of her efforts were futile. I know her biggest criticism is that her plan from hiding Ryoma’s body was completely unnecessary, but I like to believe she was just nervous and overthought the whole thing. I mean, this had to go perfectly in order for her to save her country, of course she’s going to add a few too many steps.

Miu Iruma - Okay, I know this is going to sound fake, but I actually really love the dichotomy of her character. The way that she acts so self-righteous but is actually quite self-conscious really stood out to me. Of course she’s funny and hot, too, but I feel it’s important to really appreciate the way her character was written. It amazes me that she was written to be the least likable character in the entire series and still ended up being one of my favorites.

You’re the best

K1-B0 - Yes, I type out his name every time. As I already mentioned, he was my original guess for favorite character, but it obviously didn’t work out that way. He stayed in his position of first for a while, but I always knew it wasn’t meant to last, I just didn’t know which character would take his place. Even besides my doubts, I still love K1-B0, I just wish more could’ve been done with him in the earlier chapters. There are several opportunities for him to be a really funny character and have good interactions with Kokichi and Miu, but he just comes off as annoying. I feel like he only really started to be utilized after Miu died with Monotaro and I really enjoyed their dynamic, I just wish we could’ve had some of this side of K1-B0 before this point.

Kokichi Oma - This spot probably isn’t as subjective as I’d like it to be. Every time Kokichi was on screen, I would get visibly annoyed, but I knew I was in for a treat figuring out his deeper intents behind what he’s saying. The only reason I really like Kokichi at all is because he’s fun to analyze. It gets boring to analyze Nagito because his motivation is pretty much just a mix of “hope” and “he’s crazy.” Kokichi’s character trait of lying makes it so fun to individually analyze each of his lines to figure out whether he’s telling the truth and why or why not. Other than that, I guess he has some funny dialogue with Miu sometimes.

Gonta Gokuhara - I really don’t know. I know this is way too early to be unsure about characters, but I just know I couldn’t put him any lower, but I also couldn’t put him any higher. He’s just such a sweetheart, but that’s about where the substance ends. I adored every time he was on my screen, but everything that would’ve been fun to analyze about him just leads back to Kokichi. I still really enjoy his presence, though. I’d like a big Gonta hug.

Kaede Akamatsu - I’ll just say it, I think she would’ve made for a better protagonist. I’ll talk about this later, but Shuichi’s character development doesn’t really feel like it goes anywhere and the twist doesn’t feel worth it because of that. I think the twist should still have been incorporated, but with the roles reversed. Either way, we got what we got, and what we got was tears from Clair de Lune. But seriously, she really is a great pianist. I’ve been trying to learn the piece for ages and it’s still too complicated for me. I mean, it’s in 9/8 for God’s sake. Good for her, regardless.

Tenko Chabashira - Tenko’s a weird case. I didn’t actually care for her that much until quite literally a few lines before she died. Fun fact: I spoiled this entire series for myself before I ended up playing it and I’m still mad at myself. This meant that I was just waiting for all of the deaths to happen, especially Tenko’s. I was fully aware that every line could be her last during the seance, but I wasn’t aware that she would pull on my heart strings before she went. When she tells Himiko that she’ll do the seance in her place so she can talk to Angie, I literally almost started crying. Before this, Tenko was just kind of annoying, but not too bad, but this moment really solidified her spot for me. She really just wanted to help Himiko and I wish she had chosen a better target for her affections.

Hey, I think you’re pretty cool, I like you a lot

Shuichi Saihara - Time to elaborate on what I said for Kaede. I actually really enjoyed Shuichi’s character development throughout the first three chapters. Before coming to Hope’s Peak, he was afraid to hurt people with his detective skills. Kaede notices this and helps him through it, passing the reins to Kaito once she passes. Shuichi convicts Kaede and later Kirumi, much to everyone’s detriment, but they’re all okay with it (Nobody was really super sad about Korekiyo to begin with, lol). Then, starting in chapter 4, everyone just kinda flips on him. Shuichi + the rest of the gang - Kokichi all believe that Gonta is innocent and Shuichi tries to prove this. Instead of supporting him, everyone (especially Kaito) tries to... stop him??? from proving it??? They’re all just in agreement that it wasn’t Gonta, but don’t want to proceed with the investigation to figure out who it was instead. It’s really frustrating and made my overall experience much less enjoyable. This is bumped up a few notches in chapter 5 with Maki. I understand that she was part of the whole case, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying that she won’t let me prove Kaito was the victim. It just feels like the character development was all for nothing and every student feels like a human obstacle (except K1-B0, of course). Still relatable and emo, though.

Rantaro Amami - I would make the joke everyone expects, but I’m on my laptop and I don’t know how to get to the emoji keyboard.

Ryoma Hoshi - I genuinely don’t have anything to say about Ryoma. He’s my halfway point because I don’t have anything particularly for him and I don’t have anything particularly against him, either. Go off, funky little cat man.

Kaito Momota - He got on my nerves in chapter 4, but he was a genuinely sweet character that I really enjoyed talking to. Any time he would talk about the stars, I would swoon because he’s just such a natural romantic. Not really my type, though. Very average.

Monophanie - Legally you can’t ask me why the monokubs are where they are. She’s voiced by Natalie Hoover (Sonia) and I guess that’s my only reasoning.

Monotaro - I really just liked his interactions with K1-B0 in chapter 4. Other than that, I greatly disliked his and Monophanie’s presence in Gonta’s execution. 0/10 worst use for monokubs.

Monodam - A nice, non-distracting addition to Korekiyo’s execution. But he had so much potential and just threw it all away. Apparently I’m a basketball dad from a high school movie now.

I remember you

Angie Yonaga - Many times, I’ve found myself asking who I ship from the series and this love triangle comes to mind. Of Angie, Himiko, and Tenko... I only really like Tenko. I don’t hate Angie’s cult stuff as much as everyone else seems to, but she didn’t have nearly enough of a presence for me to latch onto outside of the cult stuff, which was funny, I will admit.

Maki Harukawa - I was so excited the whole game for her to get cool. I knew she was going to get cool, I just didn’t know when or how. But then, it was chapter 5 already and she hadn’t gotten cool in my eyes yet. I was really meh on her by that chapter anyway, but her being annoying really knocked her down a few pegs. She got a couple extra points for surprising me during the case, but not enough to bump her up any spots.

Himiko Yumeno - I was rooting for her to be crushed under the rock at the end. She was fine before chapter 3, but then they tried to develop her with the Akane treatment and it didn’t work for me at all. She just got on my nerves during the third trial and continued to contribute nothing throughout the rest of the game. During chapter 5 and 6, it’s like the writers just completely forgot that she was there. This would’ve been fine if they weren’t the last couple of chapters and she was one of about 6 people left alive. She had a role to play and didn’t play it in the slightest. The most she was utilized after chapter 3 was as Miu’s replacement post-chapter 5. Someone needed to fill the dirty jokes quota and I guess Himiko was chosen. #GiveTenkoABetterLoveInterest2021

Monosuke - The only thing I remember him doing throughout the entire game was distract me from Kirumi’s exectuion. Not a fan.

You are the worst. Literal scum. Leave this planet and never return

Korekiyo Shinguji - Okay, listen. He’s not that bad. His design is actually one of the best, in my opinion and I love his dedication to his craft. However, he just creeps me out whenever he’s on screen and I’d prefer not to be around him. It’s not even the sister thing, I honestly think that’s funny and a nice change of pace, but his overall demeanor is creepy. Not to mention he’s played by Todd Haberkorn and he’s been in one too many roles recently. Hopefully I’ll get over it, but as for now, that loses him points.

Tsumugi Shirogane - I know, not exactly an unpopular opinion. She’s just annoying and downright pisses me off a lot of the time with her “plain” shtick. I already knew she was going to be the mastermind, so most of the game was just me waiting for her to reveal it. I swear, I almost couldn’t take it every time she said something like, “What if there isn’t a mastermind?” “What?? There’s a mastermind????” Just stfu Tsumugi. You all are lucky I don’t have the energy to talk about 3-6 right now.

Monokid - Hate the tongue sprite, that’s literally the only reason he’s down here. He’s also kind of annoying, but made the best addition to an execution out of all of the monokubs. His death was one of the few things that surprised me in this game and it was a welcome twist. I was sick of him by this point, but was still incredibly shocked when he was pushed into the execution. Then, his severed head rolls out to all of the students looking on in shock at Kaede’s death. Masterful. Still hate the tongue sprite.

There we go. Definitely my least favorite cast out of the whole series, but it’s still fun to love on and hate on a lot of the characters, as per usual. There are just a few too many in the middle tier (metaphorically speaking) that are either uninteresting or just don’t get their time to shine. Maybe they’ll eventually grow on me more, but I doubt it.

[sickonthedancefloor]

His Personal Nurse, After Hours

Prompt: “I know it’s 2am but I had a nightmare”... or something along those lines. I can’t find the original prompt. Anyway, here’s some soft Namseok. Sickie: Hoseok Caretakers: Namjoon Content: fevers, flu-like illnesses, emeto

The nice thing about having Hobi as a boyfriend, Namjoon thinks, is that Hobi has a consistent sleep schedule. Jung Hoseok, the ever-busy dance coach and instructor, worked consistently early shifts and slept like clockwork. His good night texts always told Namjoon what time it was—almost always, 11:15 at night—and served as a good reminder on when he needed to sleep himself before he spent his entire night grading papers again. Being a college music history lecturer was no cakewalk.

But that’s what alarms him about that morning, waking up at a quarter past two in the morning to a handful of texts.

‘Joonie bug,, I miss you.’

‘I’m going to blame th Tue dance squad, they were all gros’

‘I love you baby’

‘I know is late but I ad a nightmare and I miss you, cannn you just tell me yu love me? Just so I kno you’re okay??’

‘unless your’e sleeping, plees slee\[‘

So, so many typos… Hoseok wasn’t the type to be hypervigilant on his texting, but he was far better about typos than a lot of them. But to see so many… a nightmare? The grogginess from his eyes begins to fade over the message. In the corner, he sees a flashing ellipses appear and vanish quite a few times. Was Hoseok still typing? Namjoon sits upright and just sends his own simple response:

‘I love you, Hobi, my sunshine.’

And then:

‘Are you okay?’

The read marking pops up immediately, followed by a typing indicator, but the only thing he receives is a small emoji heart. Hoseok up after two in the morning meant nothing good… Namjoon doesn’t bother to change out of his pajamas. He unplugs his phone from the charger and moves to slide on his jacket, before heading to the front foyer to grab his wallet and keys. Slipping on his shoes, he locks up and hurries to his car.

What was he even doing? In the middle of the night, going off of vague messages from his boyfriend who hasn’t said anything else. A heart isn’t an answer, not in the least; Namjoon merely hurries down the roads, the streets as relatively deserted as usual on a weeknight, and he’s quick to slide into the guest parking and make a quick run to the 24-hour shop next door. Hoseok and Namjoon have already traded keys, so Namjoon merely lets himself in to find Hoseok’s shoes kicked off haphazardly in the doorway.

Peculiar…

“Hob-ah?” Namjoon calls out softly.

He gets a low groan in response, coming from the living room of his boyfriend’s apartment instead of his bedroom. Being 2:46 in the morning, Hoseok should have already been asleep, completely tuned out from the world until his alarm went off. But Namjoon could see an abandoned mug on the kitchen countertop (already something very un-Hobi-like, he always liked having a clean kitchen in the mornings) and the television’s lights still on, and moves in to investigate. There, Namjoon finds Hoseok, in all his rundown glory, curled up on a cushion on his plush couch, huddled with a blanket pulled over his head. Hoseok turns when he hears Namjoon walking, eyes a little startled.

“Hobi, sweetheart?”

Hoseok blinks owlishly, confused over his boyfriend’s arrival. “Joonie bug? It’s late, what are you doing?” His voice is raspy and almost a little nasally, mixed with sleep and… what sounded to the beginning stages of a cold. That doesn’t sound good.

As Namjoon approaches, he can see the dark bags under Hoseok’s eyes reflecting sickly from the television light. His eyes also don’t miss the mixing bowl and plastic bag on the center table, or the opened soda can. Hoseok really must not have been feeling well, but he definitely did try to prepare. When Hoseok catches Namjoon frowning at the bowl, he leans his head back on the couch.

“My tummy hurt earlier, that’s all…” he mumbled. “But Joonie bug…”

“You texted me. So I, uh.” With that, Namjoon just holds up the bag. “I wasn’t sure what you had but I brought soup. It’s, uh… it’s my best hangover soup, but I wasn’t sure what happened.”

But the sight of it makes Hoseok grin, toothy and full of heart. And then he sneezes, hard and loud, and it makes Namjoon jump. The skin under Hoseok’s nose reflects in the light, and he’s quick to grab a tissue, blowing his nose with it. So… sick and not drunk, well that’s good to know. Kneeling next to him on the floor, Namjoon strokes Hoseok’s hair away with his free hand to press a palm against his forehead, sighing when he feels a pressing heat against it. To be safe, he slides his hand down to the side of his neck to make sure, a small, pitying smile on his face.

“Oh Hob-ah, baby, you’re sick… You should have called me earlier.”

Hoseok lowers the tissue. “I felt okay earlier…”

“Did you, or are you just telling me you did?” Namjoon questions, moving his hand upward to pet his hair. His long fingers rake along his boyfriend’s scalp, featherlight touches brushing gently. Hoseok seems to melt under his touch, his eyes already fluttering closed.

“…I didn’t feel okay earlier…” his boyfriend mumbles. “That feels nice…”

Laughing softly, Namjoon nods despite knowing Hoseok can’t see it. But he knows he appreciates the comfort, and he wants to give it while he’s here. He can already see the sleepy drooping from the older one’s mouth, the relaxed nature taking over almost instantly from the gentle notions. He knows if he keeps going, Hoseok will fall asleep quickly, and it hurts him that he has to stop. He ruffles his hair instead, smiling when he sees Hoseok’s cute little nose scrunch up in displeasure.

“Nooo… keep petting me,” he whines, his small hands reaching up to hold Namjoon’s wrist in place.

Namjoon chuckles again. “Did you take any medicine? Or… eat anything?”

“Joonie… pet me…”

“Will you answer me if I pet you?” Namjoon’s fingers resume rubbing along Hoseok’s scalp, and he receives a satisfied hum in response. He decided not to push him too much; after all, his boyfriend was sick, and it was the middle of the night. But… he wasn’t going to sleep on the floor by the couch. He moves his hand away and goes to put the soup in the fridge, fetching a water bottle instead. He moves into Hoseok’s room and is still pleased to see it’s clean. Pulling the blanket back, he sets the water bottle on the side table and heads back out.

His attempts to move Hoseok receive just a whimper, but he somehow manages to get his boyfriend to his feet. Namjoon keeps his arm wrapped around his waist and helps him relocate into his room. He dragged the mixing bowl in with them, setting it on the floor by the side of the bed. Then, as Hoseok begins to whine about the bed being cold and lonely, Namjoon shucks off his hoodie and curls up next to him, pulling the ailing man into his arms. Hoseok is too warm in Namjoon’s grasp, but he merely uncovers his arms and closes his eyes, letting his boyfriend’s congested breaths fill the air.

 ~*~

 Namjoon is used to nights where he hasn’t fully slept, where he’s taken a thirty-minute power nap to get him from Day 1 to Day 2 with a mug of coffee and nothing but adrenaline and work to keep him going. But after his nap from earlier, and his nap again with Hoseok in his arms, he’s completely disoriented when he feels himself shoved to the side, the room immediately filled with the sound of retching. Namjoon blinks his eyes open as his hand stretches over to rub Hoseok’s back, trying to comfort his boyfriend as he mentally reminded himself of his location.

His sweetheart was sick, and apparently resting did not help. He sees Hoseok sitting up, the mixing bowl double-lined with plastic bags in his lap as he weakly attempts to throw up whatever was in his system. Hoseok looks pale and even in the weak light of sunrise attempting to peek from the windows, Namjoon can see his hands trembling. That’s enough recollection to have him sitting up, arm moving to wrap around his boyfriend’s shoulders, helping hold him up as he whispers encouraging words to him.

When Hoseok finally stops, Namjoon brings his hand up to wipe stray tears from his cheeks before he moves the bowl back, but not away just yet. Hoseok takes a deep breath, a pout on his lips as he scrunches his eyes closed.

“Want to rinse your mouth out, baby?”

“Gross…” Hoseok mumbles. Namjoon hands him a towel to wipe his lips, then the water bottle. With a sip, Hoseok swishes it around in his mouth and spits it out into the mixing bowl, then repeats the process when he feels like once wasn’t enough. All the while, Namjoon uses a corner of the towel to stroke at his face, and whether Namjoon’s wiping away sweat or tears, Hoseok can’t quite tell. Lazily, Hoseok’s hand holding the water bottle just moves to rest on his leg; he’s not sure if he’d make it trying to put it back on the table, but he really just wants to lie back down.

“Think you’re okay, for now?” Namjoon whispers. When he receives a nod, he returns the mixing bowl to the floor and moves the towel back to the bedside table. Gently gripping Hoseok’s hand, Namjoon brings the water bottle back to his lips and instructs him to sip. Hoseok takes a few weak sips before he lowers it back, pressing his face into Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon can feel the radiating heat from him, and he can tell for sure that his fever is just climbing.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Hobi,” Namjoon laughs, “I need to yet some medicine in you first.”

Whining, Hoseok just shakes his head. He’s tired, Namjoon knows, but he’ll only get worse trying to wait it out.

“Let me make you some tea. I know you won’t eat anything big but let’s get something in you or your stomach will hurt more later.”

He gets a whine from it, but merely kisses Hoseok’s cheek and helps lower him back onto the pillows. “Rest, sweetheart, I’ll wake you in a few.”

“Cuddle with me,” Hoseok mumbles, bottom lip pouting out.

Namjoon just kisses his forehead. “I’ll never get up if I do that.” With a soft chuckle, he crawls over him and heads out, taking the bowl with him. Replacing the lining, he returns that before heading into the kitchen. Instant coffee for himself, but kettle-boiled yujacha for Hoseok. And a small bowl of rice and crackers, just in case he could get him to eat something. Carrying everything back into the room on a small tray, he sets it down before he tries to wake up Hoseok, just to make sure he doesn’t make a mess of everything.

“Hobi… baby, I have tea…”

Namjoon receives a whine, and Hoseok’s face crumbles, tears welling in his eyes the second he opens them. Namjoon spends a few minutes just stroking his hair, trying to calm him down before he works himself up. “Come on, sweetheart… don’t cry, nothing’s wrong. You’re okay. It’s just tea.”

“Tea?” Hoseok mumbles. He shakes his head, fist moving to swipe across his eyes, wiping away slowing tears. His voice cracks as he talks, but the younger man can see realization dawning on his face. “Don’t want tea…”

“It’ll help your tummy,” Namjoon coaxes, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. Hoseok squints, trying to hide his face as his cheeks flush. With a soft chuckle, Namjoon moves his hand away to press another kiss to Hoseok’s warm face, then another. “Come on, baby, just a little bit.”

“Don’t kiss me, Joonie bug, you’ll get sick.”

“I’ll kiss you again if you don’t drink the tea.” Namjoon crawls back onto the bed, sliding under the covers, and Hoseok immediately curls up to his side. Laughing, Namjoon just pulls his arm. “I will, even if you cling to me.” He manages to get a grumbling Hoseok to finally sit up with his help, curled up against his chest with the tea cup in his hand. He sips cautiously, as if every sip is uncomfortable. Namjoon strokes his hair gently. “Want to try some rice?”

With a groan, Hoseok looks up at him, lips pursed in a pout. “I’m being tortured, Namjoonie.” Hoseok whines. “Rice is too much… you’re too much.” He takes another sip of his tea.

Laughing, Namjoon just shakes his head. The rice was a stretch… they can try again later. “Fine, fine. Finish your tea and—”

“And nothing?”

Nodding, Namjoon presses a kiss to Hoseok’s crown. “And nothing. Medicine and then we’ll go back to sleep.”

Thankfully, Hoseok cooperates. Namjoon helps him take two cold pills and tucks him back into the bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. With a small smile, Hobi curls up next to him and falls asleep within a matter of seconds. Despite being warm to the touch, he curls up next to Namjoon in his sleep, an arm lazily draped over his waist. Namjoon wastes no time in messaging his TA, asking him to assign the next week’s assignment early on the boards. He writes a small notice announcing his calling out of work and the plan for the rest of the week, shoots a quick message to the teacher’s line calling out, and then just puts his phone on silent.

Right now, the only person that matters is his boyfriend, and it’s barely a quarter to six in the morning. He has more than enough time to catch up on sleep with his most important person.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away. 

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent. 

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.” 

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run. 

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.” 

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her. 

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises. 

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause.  After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says. 

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[chipper9906]

Love Is...

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie 

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 12,016

Status: One Shot - Complete

Summary: 

He could barely see a thing past the rain pounding down on him, soaking every inch of his clothes in as little as a second. The howling wind around him seemed to bite into his skin, the raindrops feeling like small blades as they shot down against his body.

And yet, somehow, he knew. The moment he stepped into this place, the moment he felt the rain atop his skin, he knew.

He had been here before.

* * *

A continuation fic set after the events of the Season 1 Finale. Filled with plenty of angst and comfort, because apparently, I enjoy writing about pain - so long as that pain is eventually healed.

Link To Fic

OR

Click Below To Keep Reading

Perhaps, in another time, another him, he would have told the story of this moment differently. He would say that he stared upon that looming statue, the impassive stone face of ‘He Who Remains’, and he did not tremble. He looked into the face of the man he knew he was to take down, and he got to work.

But he’d be lying if he’d said that. 

He had looked up to that statue in horror. He had stood there, wishing he was looking at the statues of the timekeepers, instead. Because he knew that, the horrors of all that happened before? That was going to be nothing, nothing, compared to what was coming. 

The room he was sat in now was almost familiar. The same type of nearly every interrogation room that the TVA had, but there was something… off about it. Perhaps a slightly different shade of orange compared to the previous TVA’s color scheme. Or… or perhaps the font they used for the number plastered on the wall was different?

What was familiar was the collar locked in place around his neck. ‘Purely for safety purposes’ they had told him as TVA security swarmed him, all but picked him up by his arms, and hauled him off into this room. He had been sat on this hard, uncomfortable chair for… actually, he still wasn’t too sure how time worked in the TVA. All he knew was that it had been too long already. 

It had barely been a moment. The change had happened so fast. Too fast. He had tumbled back through that time door, and… time itself had erupted. Chaos, just as ‘He Who Remains’ had told them it would. And this was just one. One branch of what was going to be infinite - some good, and some very, very bad. But it didn’t even matter if there were good ones. Because ultimately, the bad ones were coming. The bad ones were out there, and this time, they were going to do everything in their power to make sure their timeline came out on top.

And somehow… he had to stop it?

No… No, not just him. 

Perhaps… perhaps he can find a way out of here. Steal a TemPad, perhaps? No, no, that wouldn’t work… There was only one TVA, wasn’t there? So, that meant… Mobius was truly gone. His Mobius, anyway. The one who was going to burn this place to the ground. The one that was going to spread the truth. Now, he was… just another variant. The same Mobius he had first met, who was just trying to do his job. Maybe he could do this all over again, find a way to get Mobius to believe him. 

Or... Or what if there were multiple TVA's now? All those branches were no longer just branches, but entirely new timelines. New universes that would, ultimately, clash with one another. So maybe, somewhere out there, was the true Mobius from his timeline. Perhaps, if he explained everything to them, to this TVA - tried to find a way for them to understand that his��timeline was the only one that didn't involve all-out chaos? 

But it seemed unlikely. This was… different. There were no more lies about the TVA in this timeline, it seemed. No timekeepers. Just him. They might already know that ‘He Who Remains’ is in control of everything. And… what exactly is this version of ‘He Who Remains’ like? Was this one that had already planned for eons of chaos? 

Was this TVA already planning for a multiversal war? 

No, perhaps the TVA wasn’t the way to go. He… he needed to go back there. To that place in the void, beyond the end of time. He… he had to go find her. He needed to find Sylvie. 

Simply thinking of her name lodged a hard rock of messy, almost unidentifiable emotions down his throat. Loki’s nails dug into the soft flesh of his palm as he squeezed his hands together atop the cool surface of the table, his eyes scrunched shut as he struggled to get his thoughts back under control. This pain was… new. And horrible. Dull, like a heavyweight pushing down on him, yet simultaneously sharp like a dagger being plunged through his chest. He knew what it felt like to be on the other end now, he supposed. 

It wasn’t fun, to say the least. 

Would she still even be in the citadel? In whatever time had passed, surely she would have… actually, he doesn’t know. Neither had she. The plan she had meticulously crafted her whole life had finished with slaying the one responsible for all her suffering. And now it was done… what else would she do?

‘Maybe… we could figure it out… together?’

‘Maybe…’

Loki shakes his head vigorously, trying to push away the memory that seemed to echo around the room. He had to focus. Sylvie could be…

Oh. Oh, but… this TVA had a new ruler. The one consistent factor among all the branches, was the same TVA. Which surely meant the same place at the end of time. The same citadel. And if that was the case, then…

Would everything have changed within? Would the new variant of ‘He Who Remains’ already be shacked up in his office?

Would Sylvie still be there?

Was she even alive in this timeline?

No. She couldn’t… It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t think like that. She was still out there, somewhere, he knew it. But… but where? If she had grabbed that TemPad, then… then she could be anywhere. There was only one place he could start looking, though. He had to go back to the citadel. 

“You doing any better?”

Loki startles at the familiar voice, looking up from the table he was sat on to the door that had been pushed open. He can’t help the small jolt of hope that rushes through him at the sight of Mobius, but the reality of which Mobius he was looking at quickly drains it away. 

“Happens more often than you’d think,” Mobius tells him with a soft chuckle, stepping into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him. Loki keeps a cautious eye on him as he strides over to the table, sitting down on the orange chair opposite with a tired-sounding grunt. Mobius pulls out the wooden clipboard he had tucked under his arm, placing it down onto the table and tapping his hands against it like a drum. 

“What happens more often than I’d think?” Loki asks, not even trying to hide the miserable tone seeping into his voice. 

“Cracking under pressure,” Mobius picks up the pen tucked neatly away within the clipboards holder. “This is a stressful job. We know of the importance of our work - the fact that you’re going through this now shows just how much you care.”

Loki barely holds back a snort of laughter. He had no idea…

“Can I… get you some water or something?” Mobius offers. “Sorry about doing things all… you know, like this. Treating you like some sort of variant-,”

He can’t help it. The laughter does push out of him this time - though the way none of his smile reaches his eyes definitely puts Mobius on edge. 

“No… No, I wouldn’t like any water,” Loki finally speaks once his short burst of laughter is over. “And to answer your earlier question? No. I am not doing better. In fact, I am quite far from anywhere near okay-,”

“Alright, alright…” Mobius stops his rant, hands held up in defense, as if it would somehow calm Loki down. “That’s why I’m here, okay? We’re gonna figure things out.”

“Figure what out?”

“First of all, it’d be good to know who exactly you are.”

Loki’s brow scrunches in confusion, his eyes flickering between Mobius’s peering stare and the file clipped onto the clipboard. “You’re telling me you haven’t figured it out already?”

“Well, we tried looking you up in our database,” Mobius’s hands go to the insides of his jacket, pulling out the rectangular appliance Loki was all too familiar with by now. “Weird thing, but uh… you didn’t come up on our employee register. Not a thing. Now, I know there’s a lot of us here - partly why I wasn’t too worried when I didn’t recognize you from anywhere. But… there should be some record of you here.”

Loki’s eyes were drawn to the TemPad Mobius still held in his hands. Mobius took notice of the direction of his stare, his eyes narrowing by just the slightest as he safely tucked the TemPad back into his jacket pocket. It was only as his hand went into his pocket, moving the side of his suit away from his body, did Loki catch sight of the pruning stick holstered by his side. 

“How about we start with a name?” Mobius asks. 

He could lie here. Spout out some random name, send Mobius searching for the records once again. It could give him more time, put together at least some semblance of a plan. And yet, on the other hand… There was that urge, that nagging feeling deep down to tell the truth. He still wasn’t sure what the rules of this new reality were exactly. There could be a chance, however small, that the Mobius he knows still exists somewhere within the stranger sat opposite him. Maybe, if he told him his name… Mobius might get that slight tickle of ‘I know this person'. Perhaps even enough for him to go looking for secrets that change his view on the TVA forever. 

It was worth a shot. 

“Loki,” Loki answers, his eyes searching deep into Mobius’s face for any sign of familiarity. “My name is Loki.”

But there’s nothing from Mobius. No light-bulb-over-the-head moment of realization he was hoping for. He simply shakes his head in a nod, before scribbling down his name upon the record sheet in front of him. 

“And it seems you already knew who I was,” Mobius mutters as he finishes writing something down that Loki can’t see from this angle. “Though, not too sure how. I mean, it’s not like…”

Mobius pauses, an almost curious look on his face as he looks at Loki. “…Have we met before? No offense, but I meet a lot of analysts in my work, and… I can’t say I remember us ever meeting.”

Loki gave Mobius a strained smile. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, anyway.”

That got Mobius’s attention. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, leaning forward in his chair. “Try me.”

Loki was about to shake his head. Moments away from spouting out some other lie, something to get him out of this mess. But then his eyes are drawn back to the pruning stick he knows is hidden behind Mobius’s suit, and he realizes… there’s only one way this can go. He needs to get back to the citadel, and to do that, he needs to go back to the Void and - somehow - enchant Alioth again. It was a stupid plan, he knew that fully, but there was no other choice. He needed to find Sylvie - and this was the only way to start looking for her. 

Either Mobius believes him, or he prunes him.

Win-Win. 

“We messed it all up,” Loki confesses once more. “The sacred timeline. The original one - the one I’m from. That’s where I was before I was sent here.”

“The original one?”

“Yes. We were… we were trying to set everything free. The timelines, the variants, the TVA, everything. We needed to bring it to an end, bring him to an end, and-,”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a second,” Mobius stops him, holding out a hand. “You needed to bring who to an end?”

“Your leader. I believe your strange clock mascot likes to call him ‘He Who Remains.’ But, where I’m from, you all didn’t know he was your leader. He created these androids, three reptilian creatures he called ‘The Time-Keepers’. You all false fully believed to be doing their work, but you weren’t! It was all his! He was lying to you, to all of us, and… He… he offered us something. A way to… to stop the timeline from erupting into chaos. We thought he was lying, that the whole TVA was a lie, but… it wasn’t. It’s already happened, don’t you see? We killed him. We killed him, and it started all of this. And I did know you - a different you. But now it’s all changed, and you… you’re not the you I know, anymore.”

The silence that stretches on between them is almost unbearable. Mobius still looked as calm as ever, quite the difference to Loki who had become worked up, leaning far enough across the table that it dug into his stomach, hands outstretched almost in pleading. 

“Okay…” Mobius was the first to speak, picking up his pen once again. “You said ‘we’ a few times in there. Who’s ‘we?’”

Loki opened his mouth, ready to let her name roll off his tongue, but it remains frozen in place. He didn’t know where exactly this whole conversation would end. The very last thing he wanted to do was send another version of the TVA on a manhunt for Sylvie - again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Loki said hurriedly. “You need to understand - your leader? He’s not the only one of himself. It’s all because of him, that this whole thing started.”

“You’re telling me that ‘He’ is just a variant?” Mobius’s voice was tense, clearly struggling to keep up his professionalism here. Loki could already tell he didn’t believe his story in the slightest - and he certainly didn’t appreciate Loki calling his leader a ‘variant’.

“It’s the whole reason he started this place,” Loki continued on anyway. “The other versions of him? All they want to do is conquer. They want to rule over every other timeline there is. And they won't stop. There will be all-out war, Mobius. Across all the different timelines.”

Mobius only nodded at him, his expression impossible to read as he reached back into his pocket again. The TemPad was back into his hands, and Loki’s vision filled with the memory of being trapped in that time-loop, reliving the same memory over and over again. Mobius tapped lazily at the screen, glancing up to Loki a few times, switching between the screen and him. 

“Look, I get it - you don’t believe me,” Loki stretched forward, and Mobius immediately pulled himself away. “But just-,” Loki frantically gestured to the ugly little computer monitor sat in the middle of the desk. “Look me up! Look up my name, and you’ll see. You’ll find my file-,”

“I’ve already looked,” Mobius interrupted him. Something in his expression had changed. He was still guarded, still looked just as disbelieving as he did prior, but there was also… a general sense of uncertainty spread across his face. “Just now, I mean.”

“Right? And?”

“Well, it’s… it’s a strange thing…” Mobius uttered softly, stuffing the TemPad back into his pocket, staring at nothing as he found himself lost in his own thoughts. “You have no file, Loki.”

It felt like his heart had come to a sudden and abrupt stop. It… it wasn’t possible. How was that possible? Mobius had told him, hadn’t he? He was one of the most frequent, pain in the arse variants they had to deal with. And now… he wasn’t on their files?

In this timeline, did he… not exist?

“What?” Loki spluttered out. 

“Mean’s that someones messed up their job-,” Mobius says with a pinched expression, the chair screeching as he stands up from it. “Someone must have brought you in when they didn’t need to - took you from the timeline you were supposed to be on. No wonder you’re confused-,”

“I don’t-,”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this,” Mobius promised, scooping the clipboard up from the table. “We’ll find whichever Hunter brought you in, get you in front of the judge - they’ll make sure you get back to your timeline. You haven’t done anything wrong; there was probably just some kind of mix-up with the confusion of all these new branches and-,”

“DON'T YOU GET IT!” Loki shouted out to Mobius, one last desperate attempt to convince him. Mobius startled at the sudden yell, stopping any movements he was about to make. “This is because of me! If I was brought in by your workers from my timeline, then why the hell did I come wearing one of your TVA uniforms?! I even had the damn Variant jacket for crying out loud - that you gave me!”

“Calm down - you’re just confused-,”

“I can’t calm down! I… I need to go back. I need to go back to the edge of time, the end of the void, and fix this! I… I don’t even know how, but… I have to try. I have to.”

Loki hated the look Mobius was giving him right now. He much preferred the cocky, equally as manipulative interrogator he got from his Mobius. This Mobius was just looking at him with… with pity. Like he was saddened by the poor, pathetic Variant who was losing his mind.

“We will fix this, okay?” Mobius assured him, soft and quiet, and Loki felt close to ripping his hair out in frustration. He was already beginning to turn away from him, one foot in front as he moved towards the door. “We’ll get you home-,”

Mobius didn’t even see the movement as Loki lunged forward, turning around and looking on in disbelief as Loki grabbed hold of the end of the pruning stick sticking out from his suit jacket. Mobius scrambled to dig his TemPad out from his jacket, just waiting for the moment that the Variant in front of him would activate the pruning stick and prune him with it. 

Only… his fingers still, frozen above the button on his TemPad as he sees Loki step away from him. There’s a look of both dread and utter determination on Loki's face as he activates the pruning stick and then - to both Mobius’s disbelief and horror - holds the pruning stick towards him, ready to self-prune. 

Loki’s view shifts. One second he’s staring at Mobius’s shocked face, the stick in front of him held primed and ready. Then Mobius’s fingers slam down on the TemPad, and the world shifts around him. He’s suddenly right back where he was a second ago, stood right in front of Mobius. There’s not enough time to react, not expecting the shift in position, but Mobius was prepared; grabbing hold of the stick once more, he yanks it back towards him whilst simultaneously shoving the hand holding the TemPad into Loki’s chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor. 

Mobius holds the pruning stick close to his side, staring down at Loki in bewilderment at what just happened. Loki doesn’t even bother to get back up. He doesn’t even look at Mobius. He remains sitting on the floor, head hung low and eyes closed tight.

He was so very, very tired. 

“What…” Is all Mobius can say at first, looking down to the weapon he held in his hands, and then back over to Loki. “You were… you were about to prune yourself…”

Loki doesn’t answer him. He didn’t see the point anymore. 

“...Why?”

Loki just about glances up at Mobius. It wasn’t like he’d understand. “It’s the only way. I need to find her.”

Mobius still looked just as baffled - not that he could blame him. “What do you mean it’s the only way? And who the hell is her?”

Loki feels his jaw clenching involuntary, the pressure of it rumbling in his ears, teeth squeaking and creaking in protest. “Just… get it over with. You prune all the other damn variants anyway, so why not me? Prune me, throw me in a time loop again - I don’t care anymore.”

“Again? I hadn't even met you before 'till-,”

“PRUNE ME!” Loki yells from the floor, his voice sounding unnatural to even him as it echoes back towards him. 

The fight drains out of him just as quick as it comes. Mobius still has that same damn pitiful look on his face, and he can't stand to look at it anymore. Loki drops his head into his hands, pushing his fingers through his hair and grabbing hold of clumps of it, yanking tight until he felt the sharp pain of it across his scalp. 

 “I’m not gonna prune you,” Mobius says so quietly, Loki nearly misses it. “Least, not till I figure out exactly what’s going on here. This could all still be a simple mistake-,”

“It’s not,” Loki interrupts dejectedly, his head still buried in his hands. “Not that it matters if I’m telling you the truth. No one seems to believe me when I tell it, anyway…”

The silence he gets in response is almost stifling. Enough time passes with nothing said in response that Loki pulls his head back up, only to be greeted by… nothing. The room was empty, and Mobius was nowhere in sight. He had somehow managed to sneak out of the room without making a noise. 

Alone again.

* * *

He might have fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure. It certainly felt like he had drifted in and out of consciousness - but there’s a good chance he just found himself sinking in and out of his thoughts, instead. He had managed to move from the center of the room - but not far enough to get himself back up on the chair. He had found his way to the wall, finding some sense of comfort in the wall pressed against his back. A sense of… security.

‘Well, I never sit with my back to a door.’

The sounds of commotion from outside the door snap him out of his memories. He scrapes up what little energy he had left to look to the sound; of pounding footsteps and muffled shouts getting closer and closer. Something was going down. It was only a matter of time before they stormed through that door, and-

Something shifts out of the corner of his eye. A dot, golden and gleaming, suspended in mid-air. He knows what it is before it even expands, jumping to his feet with a burst of energy he didn’t even know he had left. The time-door shimmers just in front of him, inviting him into the unknown beyond. The sounds of chaos from beyond the door had only grown more frantic, coming closer to the door with every second he remains standing in place

He makes up his mind.

Loki reaches forward, jumping through and into the time-door just as the physical door behind him slams open. He doesn’t even get a chance to see who was coming for him before he’s gone from the TVA.

Loki stumbles forward as he exits the time-door, his rushed entrance kicking up pools of water beneath his feet. There's a click, and suddenly his neck feels a whole lot lighter, the TVA collar around his neck falling into the soaked pavement below. He could barely see a thing past the rain pounding down on him, soaking every inch of his clothes in as little as a second. The howling wind around him seemed to bite into his skin, the raindrops feeling like small blades as they shot down against his body. 

And yet, somehow, he knew. The moment he stepped into this place, the moment he felt the rain atop his skin, he knew. He had been here before. 

Loki looks back to the time-door, waiting for the inevitable moment the TVA burst through it. But he only lays eyes on it for a few seconds more before it collapses in on itself, leaving him in nothing but the faint glow of the neon signs ahead.

And there, hidden within the shadows, was where he saw her. Sensed her. She was nothing more than a dark silhouette at this distance, watching him carefully from afar. 

“Sylvie…” Loki whispers, mostly to himself, unable to be heard past the storm raging around them. The sense of relief, of pure joy that overtook him was something he had never known before. His feet are moving forward before he even realizes it, picking up in pace the closer he gets to her. And, miraculously, she was walking towards him, too. 

The instinct of it was overwhelming. Every part of him screamed to get back to her, to be back by her side. He wanted, needed to know that she was okay. He wanted to grab hold of her, to hold her in his arms and-

He stops. So does she. Loki’s eyes fixate on the blade held limply in her hands, the dark liquid he sees coating its end steadily dripping onto the ground as the rain hits it. No doubt the blood of him, he knows. On that same hand he could see the TemPad secured snuggled around her hand, its few cracks of gold in its marble-like surface shining through the darkness. 

She didn’t seem to be holding it like she planned on wielding it against him. They were close enough now for him to see her face in the glowing light of the supermarket’s signs. He knows full well that the droplets of water running down her face are not only because of the rain- mostly because he himself feels the burn of a few stray tears escaping his eyes. 

It was all still so vivid in his mind; the sharp bite of her steel against his neck; her trembling arms underneath his hands as he begged her; a type of euphoria he’s never known as she closed the distance between them, foolishly sinking into the feeling of ‘rightness’ at the taste of her against his lips, eagerly chasing them as she tried to bring it to an end. 

But the pain… oh, he vividly remembers that too; of the shock of feeling himself be flung back by her magic, unable to scramble back to the time-door in time before she had shut it - shut herself- from him. He didn’t know what to do with that pain. He was used to pain - harnessed it, even. It was easy to let the pain turn to anger, to drive him towards his goal. But he had been drowning in this pain, one had never had to experience before. There was… nothing. The world had been sucked out from underneath him, everything that had started to make sense taken away, and he could do was nothing but… sit. Sit, and replay that moment over and over again. What could he have done differently? What did he do wrong? 

What did he need to do for her to trust him as much as he had trusted her?

And worst of all... Why didn't he feel angry? He should be bitter, should be clinging onto that sting of betrayal. But it simply wasn't there. Not anymore. Not with her just a few paces away from him. He didn't care about what had happened, or what she had done to him. All he cared about was that she was here, and she was okay. 

And that scared him more than anything. 

Loki started forward again, closing the gap between them in just a few strides. It's of great relief that she doesn't push him away - or stab him if he's being honest - as he all but collides into her. He pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tight, pulling her close until she was all but engulfed into his chest.

"Sylvie," He breathes her name in relief, not even bothering to hide the tears that squeezed past his closed eyelids. "I was... I was terrified something might have happened, that you... Oh, thank the gods you're okay..."

Sylvie's arms have a weak grip around him, her entire body tense as she's pinned under his embrace. He pulls her away from him, holding her at arm's length as his eyes furiously scan across her face, as if to reassure himself that she was indeed okay. 

“Seems we’re both a fan of the dramatics,” Loki can’t help but say, gesturing to the supermarket behind her with the smallest of smiles. “You’re not going to try and strangle me with a hoover again, are you?”

"Don't-," Sylvie starts, her voice clipped and strained. "Please, just... No jokes." 

Lightning strikes somewhere nearby, a particularly large fork that he's half-convinced could only be conjured by his brother. The strike lights up the darkness that enveloped them, allowing him the briefest of glances of every detail of her face through the murky gray of the night. The twist of pain on her face is the first thing his mind notes. Yet, despite the pain, his chest still constricted tightly at the beauty of her that shone through. . He had never felt so torn, so overtaken by the need to comfort, battling against the sting he still feels at the reminder of their parting. 

"Why here?" Loki asks her. Standing out in the pouring rain with an apocalypse-level hurricane looming nearby wasn't exactly the best place for a conversation. "Why did you take us back to where we met?"

Sylvie glances down at the TemPad on her wrist. "I don't know. I just knew I had to pick an apocalypse, and... This was the first one I thought of."

He nods at her answer, the movement getting a few soaked pieces of hair to plaster onto his face. 

"Aren't you going to say something?" Sylvie suddenly snapped, and he found himself taken aback by the sudden hostility. "I know you want to. You... You have to be angry at me. Want to yell at me, say I told you so-,"

Loki could only blink down at her in surprise for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he struggled to come up with a response. "I...what? Is that why you brought me here? For me to yell at you?" 

"No-,"

"Then... Why did you bring me here?" Loki can't help but let a little bit of frustration slip through into his voice. "I thought that... That after what happened, this was it. That you were just...done with me. Didn't need me anymore. And now, I… What do you want from me?" 

Sylvie flinches somewhat at his use of words, reminded of the night he had said those very words in this very place. Sylvie swallows harshly, looking away from him for a moment and to the ground. She shakes her head, holding her head high as she looks back to him. "I need you to tell me I did the right thing,” The confession comes out shakier than she probably intended to, judging by the flash of annoyance he sees on her face. “I did the right thing.”

Loki wasn’t too sure if she meant to say that as a statement, or a question. She certainly didn’t sound too sure of herself right now. “Would you believe me if that’s what I told you?”

The look she shot up at him made the weight in his stomach sink heavier. It was the same look she gave him when she thought he wanted the throne. He wanted nothing more for that look to be gone. “No. No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”

Loki sighed softly, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her disappointed face anymore. He took a deep breath through his nose, taking a risk and reaching out, gently wrapping his hands around her upper arms. She didn’t immediately pull away, or smack his hands away, so he counted that as a success. 

“You did the right thing-,” Loki began carefully. Sylvie frowned up at him, mouth partly open to point out that she had already said he wouldn’t believe him, but Loki carried on before she could get anything out. “-For you. And I get it, okay? I understand why you did it-,”

“No, you don’t-,” Sylvie spits out, one hand shooting up to grab hold of his hand on her arm. “You got to live most of your life. You had a chance to grow up in your home, with your family. You’ve only had to deal with the TVA for a few days; I’ve been up against them nearly my entire life. And it didn’t even matter! Everything I did, every attack I made against the TVA, was apparently supposed to happen! I had no free will! No one does but him! And I stopped it! I freed everyone!”

“Yes, you did,” Loki agrees with her, trying to keep his voice calm to temper the heat in hers. “And I’m not saying that that part of all this is a bad thing. People deserve to have their freedom, the decision to do whatever they want with their life.”

“Then why the hell did you try and stop me?” Sylvie asks, making an attempt to rip his hands off her. “If that’s the way you felt, why did you-,”

“Because I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as I have!” Loki exclaims, fighting off her attempts at shaking him off, digging his fingers in, and giving her a slight shake. “Making that decision right then and there, after everything He told us; I could see it in your face, Sylvie. The hate you felt for that man, all that pent-up rage you had kept buried down, fueling you your entire life - that’s all you could focus on in that very moment. And I know what that feels like! And I know what that awful, all-encompassing regret feels like after. That’s why, Sylvie. I just wanted you to take a minute, a moment outside of all your emotions - and I know that’s easier said than done. I thought that… maybe you would trust me enough to at least listen. And… I don’t blame you for it; for everything you did back there. But I wanted… I wanted to do what I could to make sure you didn’t have to live with the same regrets I have.”

“Why?” Sylvie whispers, not trusting her voice enough to speak any louder than that. “Why do you care?”

“I wish I knew,” Loki says, chuckling despite the tears that continued to build in his eyes. “I’ve never felt this way. Not like… this. My whole life, I only ever focused on myself. Looked out for me. And now, for the first time in my life… that’s no longer the case. Now… all I care about is you.”

Sylvie gave him a strained smile, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “I am you, remember?”

The corner of Loki’s lips hitched up in the slightest of smiles - one he didn’t really mean. “Yes… except, you’re the one who said that I’m not you.”

Even Sylvie winced at the reminder of her last words to him. It was strangely reassuring to him that she looked pained at his pain. Surely, that must have meant she cared about him in some capacity, right?

“I meant what I said back there,” Loki let his hand slide down the soaked material of her sleeve, his hand coming to a stop at the base of her wrist. His thumb lightly brushes against her pulse-point, able to feel the pounding of her heart and the rush of blood around her body, same as his. “I wanted you to be okay, and when I thought of you killing Him, and the guilt you would have to carry if he was telling the truth, and we doomed infinite amounts of timelines? I knew you weren’t going to be okay.”

Sylvie could only look at him, taking in the earnest, pleading look he was giving her. She wanted nothing more than to believe him, to take that risk and fall straight into the undying trust he so easily seemed to have in her. But trust didn’t come easy. There had never been anyone else but herself to trust. 

“But, if you had taken that moment?” Loki continued, catching her off guard. “If you had just talked to me, thought about it - and you still came to the decision you needed to kill him? If you thought that that was what was going to make you okay? Then I would have handed you the dagger myself.”

Sylvie could only shake her head at him, her fruitless attempts to keep her tears at bay infuriating her as she feels them slide down her face, mixing with the rain that quickly washed them off. “I couldn’t take that risk. He might have been telling the truth, or maybe he was lying just like the rest of them, and you were-,” A gasp catches in her throat as his hand slides further down, his fingers fitting perfectly between her own as he holds them in a comforting grip. “-You were supposed to be on my side. And then you weren’t. This whole time, every moment we spent, it felt like… like you had just thrown it all away. I knew that, with any other person, I should have killed you right then and there.”

Loki can’t fight back the shiver that ripples through his body, one he knows full well isn’t because of the chill of the storm around them. It had felt like his blood had run cold at her words, throat tightening painfully at the thought. 

“But I couldn’t,” Sylvie admits to him, and it sounded like it pained her to do so. “Because you were saying all those things, and… and I believed you - because I felt it, too. I didn’t want to hurt you, and… and I wanted to be okay, too. I couldn’t kill you, but… I couldn’t let you stop me, either.”

The thunder from above is almost deafening, the power of it rumbling against the pavement underneath their feet. It was strangely comforting to hear. It reminded him of home, of family. 

“And so you did it,” Loki states the obvious. “You did what you had set out to do. You killed He Who Remains.”

Sylvie nods, and the blank look in her eyes sends a dagger through his chest. This was a moment where she should have felt triumphant. If things had been different, they would not be here. Not like this. They would have been celebrating, felt accomplished at doing what was the right thing for once - not just for them, but for the entire Universe - and every other Universe out there that had been deemed unsuitable to exist by a single dictator.

But this wasn’t that moment. 

“I saw Mobius.”

Loki feels himself freeze up involuntary at the name. He hated it. He hated that his memories of his friend had been tainted, now nothing more than… a stranger. Perhaps even a potential adversary in the near future… 

“After I…” Sylvie trails off, swallowing harshly with a painful clench of her throat. “After I killed Him, I… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel better. I... I couldn’t get you out of my head. I wondered if… maybe you were right, but I… I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Even when I managed to pick myself back up, and saw the space outside the citadel, within the void at the edge of time, and what I saw-,”

“What? What did you see?”

“It looked like stars…” Sylvie whispered, her eyes unfocused as she replayed the scene in her mind. “The timeline, all those branches… There were so many… And I should have been thinking about all those people in those timelines that would never have to live with the fear of taking a step out of line and finding themselves, their family, everything they ever knew taken from existence. But I didn’t. I thought about how many of him were out there. How many would be scrambling to get right back into that damn office to claim their throne once again…”

Her eyes came back into focus, swiveling up to meet his unwavering gaze. “And then I thought of you. I thought you would be safe in the TVA. Safe away from me. But once I saw all those branches, I realized that… I could have sent you anywhere. I might have just killed you myself.”

“You didn’t,” Loki rushes to assure her. “Granted, I’d much rather you hadn’t pushed me through that time-door in the first place - the fall quite hurt, actually-,”

“Loki,-”

“Right, no jokes. Sorry.”

The weary look on Sylvie's face is one he's seen many times before whenever people are subjected to the torture that is interacting with him. "When I made my way back, and you weren't there, I thought that I... That it might be too late."

Loki's lip hitch into a half-smile. "You seem to forget that I am capable of looking after myself."

Sylvie narrows her eyes at him, and it was enough for him to doubt any and all of his combat and survival skills. "Says the guy who planned on running towards a giant cloud that ate everything in its path and stabbing it." 

"In my defense, that usually works."

"Oh really? So it worked on Thanos too, then?" 

Loki placed a hand over a heart in mock hurt and... well, perhaps a little bit of hurt considering that's the only death of his where he was destined to die. "Now that's just cold, Sylvie."

He doesn't mind the hurt too much, though. Not when his over-the-top reaction pulls a small yet genuine smile out of Sylvie, one he finds himself mirroring without much of a thought. He knew that he wanted to do all he could to keep that smile on her face for the rest of their lives. 

Oh, he really was in deep... When he finds his brother once more somewhere out within the multiverse - his version of his brother - he knows he's going to be set for days upon days of teasing and ridicule.

Or...witness the terror on his brother's face as he's confronted with two Loki's...

Their small carefree moment doesn't last long, though. The weight of the situation comes crashing back down on them, wiping the smile from Sylvie's face as quickly as it had come. "The TVA is... In shambles right now; which is what I always wanted, but... I saw that... That statue, of him, and I just knew, I... I knew it was all so much worse now."

"I take it that was you that caused all that commotion outside my door, then?" 

Sylvie nodded her head, and Loki was surprised to see that pained look back on her face again. "It's because I tried talking to Mobius."

Loki grimaces at the reminder. The hurt of what had happened never seemed to lessen. "Yes, I... I might have made the same mistake."

"They seemed a tad bit preoccupied with everything going on, but... Mobius definitely seemed on edge."

"Well, it was twice in one day that someone he didn't know came up to him spouting nonsense and claiming they know him. I think he might be smart enough to realize something's not right."

"Considering the security that swarmed me, I'd say so," Sylvie huffs. "Quickly realized it wasn't a situation I was going to fight my way out of."

"How did you find me?" Loki asks. 

"Mobius," Sylvie answers, and the guilt that crosses her features makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. "I... I had to take him hostage. Was the only way to stop their hunters from surrounding me. Opened up a time-door and just... dragged him through with me."

"Is he...?" Loki didn't even want to finish that sentence. 

"He's okay," Sylvie's answer helps to loosen the knot in his stomach. "I enchanted him. He fought back a bit, but... I got through in the end. Found out where they were keeping you, and... Opened up another time door to get you out of there."

"And... What did you do with Mobius?" 

"He's in a time-loop," Sylvie says, the smile on her face no way near malicious. "It's a good one. I think there was a jet ski?" 

Loki huffs out a laugh of relief. "Good, that's... That's good."

"I told him, you know," Sylvie says, the serious tone to her voice catching his attention. "I told him the truth - about him being a variant. How everyone that works for the TVA is a variant."

"Did he believe you?" Loki asks. 

"He already knew," Sylvie tells him, and it feels like another blow. "Whatever this version of the TVA is, and whatever version of Him rules it, it seems he was a bit more truthful with his workers than the last one," The frown on Sylvie's face deepens more and more with every word she speaks. "They just... don't care. They believe they were selected for a higher purpose - like it makes it okay they were ripped away from their lives."

"Ah... I suppose that might make it a bit more difficult to sway Mobius onto our side again," Loki says, his overwhelming feeling of dejection seeping into his voice. 

Sylvie's eyes drop down to the ground, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Loki's gaze. Loki frowns as he notices her avoidance of him, craning his head down to try and meet her gaze once more, only to find her stubbornly focusing on a drenched piece of paper as it floated by. "Sylvie...?" 

"Loki, I..." Sylvie starts, closing her eyes from the sight of what she could only describe as 'sad puppy eyes'. "I... I still don't know what to do."

"About... What?" 

"Everything," She forces out. "I should feel accomplished now, shouldn't I? Satisfied, that I finally killed the man who took my life from me?" 

Loki barely pushed down the urge to reach out for her again. He had a feeling she wouldn't take too kindly to physical attempts at comfort right now. "I take it that means you don't feel that way?"

"No," Sylvie whispers, and Loki could tell she hated to admit that. "I just felt... Empty. Because if he was telling the truth, and... And you were right? There's just gonna be a bunch more of Him out there. It feels like I've done nothing. Nothing but-," 

The sentence gets stuck in Sylvie's throat, forcing her mouth shut with an aggregated shake of her head. Loki lets his instincts guide him, taking a step towards her, arm outstretched ready to comfort. But then Sylvie takes a step away from him, just a small single step, but it feels like she's trying to put miles and miles of distance between them. 

"What are you doing to me?" Sylvie gets out between clenched teeth, threading her fingers through her hair in a way that Loki knows he does when he's stressed. 

"I... I don't know?" Loki said, sounding rather baffled by her exclamation. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to aggregate her further - far from it - rather... There was something about the way his heart leaped up to his throat, wondering if whatever she said to him next would reignite that small spark of hope still burning in his chest, or extinguish it before it can fully catch aflame. 

"This isn't - wasn't - who I am. I've never needed anyone in my life! This whole time, it's been only me. Me who kept me alive, me who's been carrying out this plan for years. And then I did it. I accomplished that, and... I didn't think about the victory I had earned. I didn't think of how I was finally free to live my life, make my decisions and know they're solely my own. All I could think about was you."

Loki froze in place. He didn't dare move, didn't even dare breathe. To say he was transfixed was an understatement. It seems he was wrong, in the end. She had found her own way to enchant him...

"I've never had... Companionship. I've never known what it's like to have someone by my side, someone who... Who understands. When I pushed you through that time door, I thought that I'd be okay. I'd been alone my whole life, I was used to it. But when I was sat there, alone in that office, and I wasn't okay. I was lonely, in a way I've never been before, and I didn't want to, but... I missed you. And... I wanted - needed - for you to be okay, too.

"Now, it's... it's all so complicated. After... After what I did, it's... I feel like I can't even trust myself anymore, let alone..." Sylvie trailed off, bowing her head down so Loki wouldn't see the tears that were ready to spill again. Not that he even needed to see them to know they were there. He could feel the pain radiating off her in waves as much as he could feel his own. "I'm sorry."

Loki nearly couldn't hear that last part. Whether that be because of the overwhelmingly strong blast of wind that knocked down the weather battered sign above the supermarket, or because she had purposefully uttered it so quiet like she didn't want him to hear it. He was fairly certain it was the first time he had heard her say those words to him. 

They don't come very often from a Loki, that he knew for sure. 

"I'm sorry, too," 

Sylvie nods her head, still bowed, her face pinched as she struggled to bury her emotions back down. 

"You know, back in that interrogation room, I had time to think," Loki starts, giving her a sad smile in preparation for what he's about to say next. "I, um... I thought over that dagger metaphor I said before, and I think I've got something." 

The confusion of what he's doing at least manages to distract Sylvie a little. She still eyes him with understandable caution as a burst of lime green light manifests a dagger into his hands, but the wary look in her eyes disappears almost immediately as he holds the dagger out for her to hold. She slowly reaches out, wrapping her hands around the thin handle and lifting it out of his grasp. She raises an eyebrow at him, eyes flickering between him and the new blade she held. 

"Love... Is like a dagger," Loki couldn't help but smile, brought right back to that day on the train, with everything a little a lot dizzy, and warm, and nice. 

"It's a weapon to be wielded far away, or up close," Loki continues, gesturing to the weapon in her hands, still pointed at him. "You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful... Until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it-" 

Loki's hands shifted in a blur of movement, taking Sylvie by surprise. His hands had shot out to reach for the dagger - but not for the handle. Instead, he had wrapped his hands around the blade itself, the sharp edges of the weapon biting into the soft flesh of his palm. She jumped at the rapid movement, but found that - to her surprise - she had not responded by trying to move the weapon out of his reach. She had instead dropped the sword she held in her other hand, the clang of it hitting the concrete below echoing around the parking lot. Her now free hand had shot up in an attempt to stop him from cutting himself on the blade, looking up to him in utter bewilderment. 

"You reach for it too quickly-," Loki didn't even wince at the sharp sting across his hand. He slowly pulled his hand away from the blade, suppressing a shiver at the feel of her hand partly covering his. He held his hand out to her, revealing the shallow cut as a thin stream of blood oozed from the newly opened wound. "-And you only end up hurting yourself."

For the most part, Loki had been expecting for Sylvie to call him an idiot for cutting his hand open. Which, while he had no doubt she was probably thinking that, wasn’t at all what she did. She shot him the tiniest of smiles, removing her hand -that of which she had used to try and stop him from doing said idiotic move - from the blade, revealing a slice in her own palm that mirrored his. “And more often than not, you both end up getting hurt.”

Sylvie could already see the blame Loki was placing on himself as he saw her wound, unable to fight back the bubble of warmth at the clear concern on his face as he took her hand in his, completely disregarding his own wound. There was another burst of light from his magic, and that bubble of warmth only grew at the sight of the bandages he had materialized. His hands were methodical yet oh so gentle as he applied the bandage around her hand, pressing his fingers into her palm tenderly once he was done, as if he wished he had the power to magic away her injuries. 

“Probably should have done that after you bandaged yourself,” Sylvie says, biting back a smirk as she gestured with a pointed look of her eyes down to his handiwork, handing him his dagger back.

The dagger disappeared back to where he had manifested it from, glancing down to the bandage he had applied around her hand and seeing his own blood smeared across the once pristine white material. “Right… I wasn’t really thinking about that.”

She shook her head at him, though this time with nothing but fondness for the man in front of her as she slid the other piece of bandage he had left from his hand. Despite the fact that he had just done it for her, Loki still looked baffled as he watched her begin to bandage up his hand just as carefully as he had, like the thought of her returning the favor would have never crossed his mind. 

Sylvie finished tying the knot to his bandage, giving his hand a soft pat as she does so. Her hand begins to slide away from his, and almost on instinct does Loki reach out to grab hold of hers once more. Her hand seems to fit in his like a mold, his thumb gently caressing across her knuckle whilst her thumb comes to a rest at the base of his wrist. Typically… touch wasn’t a thing she welcomes. Touch usually meant a tight grasp around her wrist, dragging her from her home. Touch usually meant the hard rack of knuckles across her jaw, or a swift kick of a boot to her ribs. Touch usually meant meaningless nights with no name strangers, trying to feel something other than the desire for revenge that kept her going, as worlds upon worlds came to an end. 

But with Loki… touch was the feeling of his hand under hers, letting her make the first move as they stared out to the lake, waiting for their coming death. Touch was his back against hers, letting her know that he - quite literally - had her back; letting her know that she wouldn’t have to fight the TVA alone. Touch was his hands wrapped around her arms, the lightest of touches that told her that as much as he wanted to hold her, he would let go if she asked him. Touch was the first set of lips against her own that wasn’t one of end-of-the-world desperation; the first to make her heart pound against her ribcage as she pulled away from him, only for his lips to chase hers once again - and letting herself fall straight back into him. 

“So, love is… something that can be twisted without meaning to. You might reach for it too quickly, and in doing so… you only end up hurting one another,” Loki broke her out of her thoughts. Sylvie’s eyes danced across his face as he spoke, though Loki’s stare was still fixated on her hand in his, and the wound he knew that lay just below his own, parallel with one another. “But… you can learn that, despite the pain…You can always find a way to heal. Together.”

His words were at least enough to pull another smile from her lips, which at the end of the day, seemed to be the only mission he wanted to succeed in. Sylvie took a deep breath in through her nose, returning his comforting squeeze on her hand with one of her own to prepare him for the coming blow. 

“I still think it’s a stupid metaphor.”

The burst of laughter that escaped Loki seemed to catch them both off guard, as close to a snort as Sylvie thinks she’s ever heard from him. 

“Well, to be fair, I was very drunk when I came up with it.”

“I thought you said you were ‘just very full’, not drunk?”

Loki’s mouth shifted into a rather comical ‘o’ shape as he tried to come up with a response, only to find that there simply wasn’t one he could use to defend himself. 

“Okay, so maybe I was drunk-,” 

Sylvie does snort at his answer. Loki huffs indigently, though the smile plastered on his face gives away the illusion of irritation. “Well alright then; what’s your metaphor for love?”

This gets her to stop laughing. Loki hadn’t entirely been expecting for her to take his question seriously, but judging by the calculated look in her eyes as she looked into his, it was something she was giving considerate thought. 

“Love…” Sylvie begins softly, the syllables of the word rolling off her tongue like she was testing the way it felt in her mouth. “Love is… a song sung to a crowded room that feels like it’s being sung to you; of words that remind you of home.”

Sylvie felt Loki’s grip on her hand tighten for just a moment, though she could tell he was being careful not to touch the tender wound on her palm. “Love is… lingering glances where you both don’t care to hide it, even as the world falls apart around you.”

Sylvie didn’t know if it was Loki that shuffled closer to her, or if she shuffled closer to him. Not that it mattered much. They always just seemed to be drawn to one another like magnets. 

“Love is… knowing that you care about someone as much as you do yourself. And the terrifying realization that… you may just care more.”  Sylvie’s voice quietened with every word she spoke, as if inviting Loki to move even closer on the excuse that he couldn’t hear her. “Love is… pretending to be cold - despite being frost giants - just to find an excuse to huddle close under a blanket; which, for the record, I’m still convinced is some kind of drapery you stole from a dining table.”

Loki tries to hide his bashful smile by bowing his head down, but it doesn’t escape Sylvie’s gaze. She placed her fingers under his chin, forcing his head up to look him straight in the eyes.

“Love isn’t a damn metaphor,” She whispered to him, savoring the sight of his Adams' apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “Love is whatever the hell we decide it to be.”

The gap between their mouths was so small that she barely had to lean forward, her entire body melting into his as their lips slotted together. His body had seemingly turned to putty under her hands, one of them sliding up his arm to rest on his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer until his body was flush against hers. 

This one was different than the last. There was no painful tug in her chest in knowing she needed to turn him around, to get to the TemPad and get him out of the way without hurting him. She did not feel the wetness of his tears as they slid down to their joined lips; only the droplets of rain that ran down from the drenched strands of his hair. 

She did feel that same curling, burning heat in the pit of her stomach, similar to the pleasant burn of her skin wherever his hands trailed, leaving a trail of goosebumps as they moved up the back of her neck, threading his fingers through her hair. She could feel his reluctance to end this any time her lips left his, even for a moment of air, as he quickly swooped back down to reclaim her lips. The feeling of his lips were feather soft, warm, yet with a firm and addicting pressure as they slid against hers. It wasn’t until she felt the swipe of his tongue across her lips, a pleasant invitation - an eager ask for permission - that she found herself separating from him with a shaky gasp for air. Her entire body seemed to be buzzing with the after-effects of adrenaline, taken aback by the sensation of her body trying to overtake her thoughts, screaming at her for more. 

Loki’s chest heaves just as much as hers as he takes in deep gulps of air that their kiss had deprived them of, too busy with breathing in the alluring scent of each other to remember such a basic necessity. The rain still had yet to let up - which it wouldn’t, her oxygen-deprived brain reminded her - and she briefly wondered how many humans shacked up inside the supermarket behind them were watching them here, standing out in the pouring rain, kissing like -

Well… like the world was about to end.

Loki moves forward again, at first she thinks to re-initiate their kiss. Instead, she feels the comforting warmth of his forehead pressed against her own, and they both find their eyes sliding shut, any pent-up tension left in their bodies seemingly draining away. She could feel the warm puffs of air against her face every time he breathed out, matched with her own; and she had no doubt that if their breathing was matched, then the way her previously thumping heart was starting to slow down could only mean that their heartbeats were matching one another, too.

Loki’s hands had dropped down to wrap protectively around her waist, eyes still closed as he savored this moment of peace. Sylvie placed her hand delicately on his chest, though this time not to push him away. She felt the reassuring thud of his heartbeat beneath her hand, unable to suppress the satisfied smile that pulled at her lips at the way his heartbeat sped up as she dragged her fingers across his chest, curling her fingers underneath her palm. 

“We will figure this out,” He whispers down to her. Her eyes flick up to meet his, believing his sincere gaze. “Truthfully… I don’t know where to start, either. I mean, I know you spent your whole life running from them, but…”

“The TVA,” Sylvie completed the sentence Loki was clearly reluctant to speak. “You want to go back?”

“Good God, no, not that one. But… But somewhere out there is the one we know, surely? The one that our Mobius was in the middle of transforming? A TVA made of variants that didn’t know they were variants - until now.”

“And should be rightfully pissed,” Sylvie guessed with a knowing smirk. “Maybe enough to get revenge?”

“Maybe,” Loki agreed, mirroring her grin. “And I’m sure they’ll be eager to meet the person who freed them from their controlling dictator.”

Sylvie’s smile wavered at that, poking the tip of her tongue out of her mouth to wet her lips - a nervous gesture from her he’s noticed every now and then, making him wonder if he does the same thing without knowing. “And created infinite amounts of that same controlling dictator - who was apparently the best version of him…”

Loki’s eyes softened at the sight of her guilt as it began to dig its claws into her. He knows too much of that guilt, felt it too often; failed to fight off the way it tried to drag him down to that pit of self-doubt that took him eons to climb out by himself - more often than not because he refused the help of anyone that offered. 

But Sylvie won’t have to fight her way out of this alone. He’ll make sure of it. 

“An infinite amount of universes to search through, huh?” Loki wonders out loud, giving a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “No problem.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes at his confidence - even if she knew he was greatly exaggerating it right now. “And I suppose that means an infinite amount of us are out there now, too?”

“And an infinite amount of our brother…”

“Wait, our brother?” Sylvie asked, head jerking back in surprise. “Thor is your brother?”

“Um, yes?” Loki frowned down at Sylvie, wondering what she was getting so caught up on. “Why - isn’t he yours?”

“Uh, she certainly isn’t my brother, no.”

Loki’s eyes widened as his mind caught up with what she was saying. “Oh…” He dragged out the syllable, looking out to the stars above in mock horror. “So your Thor is your… your sister?”

“Yep.”

Loki bent his head back with a bellow of genuine laughter, already picturing the glorious scenario of his brother meeting Sylvie’s version of him… Oh, what a sight would be to behold… Actually, the look on Thor’s face would probably be quite similar to the look on his face the moment Sylvie pulled the hood off her head and showed him her face for the very first time. 

“Oh, we need to get them together as soon as possible,” Loki said gleefully. “Four of us together? We’d make quite the team.”

“Do you… do you really think she’s out there somewhere?” Sylvie asks, and the vulnerability he hears in her voice stops his laughter altogether. “I barely remember her, you know. After the TVA pruned my timeline, and… and everyone with it, I had to accept that I’d never see her again.”

“If what He Who Remains was telling the entire truth?” Loki says with a shrug of his head to the side. “Then anything’s possible now. Every possibility you can think of, every step that could have been different…”

“An infinite amount of butterfly effects,” Sylvie finished for him.

“It’s almost overwhelming, isn’t it?” Loki drawls with as much sarcasm as he can muster. “Perhaps we should… break it down step by step? First things first being to find Mobius-,”

“-And find the old but improved TVA,” Sylvie adds.

“- And see just how riled up and ready for revenge they are,” Loki agrees. “And… I suppose we should probably find some more powerful allies to help us…”

Sylvie raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “No offense, but do you even have any other allies?”

“Well… not exactly,” Loki said with a wince. “But I’ve been acquainted with a few… highly powerful individuals. Should probably go and find the versions of them that haven’t met us before, though…”

“Hmm - I imagine they’d be a bit more willing to help when you haven’t tried to claim leadership over their home?”

He probably shouldn’t have been too surprised that she was able to guess that. 

“Something about all this still feels so… so strange,” Sylvie tells him. 

“Yes, that’d be the feeling of the need to do the right thing for others, and not just yourself,” Loki says with a grimace. “Strange feeling, I know-,”

“Oh, piss off,” Sylvie cursed with a shove to his arm, though the smile on her face took out any venom from her words. “I wasn’t trying to kill the leader of the TVA just for myself, you know.”

“And now you get to do it all over again,” Loki said with a grin, gesturing to the TemPad on her wrist; that of which had already begun glowing with a faint golden light that streaked through its surface like bolts of lightning. “He’s the one that started all of this, right? Then it shouldn’t be too far out of the question that he’s the one that can end it.”

“He did say he’d be seeing me again soon,” Sylvie mumbled, sliding her fingers across the surface of the TemPad. A door sprung to life under her command, manifesting a portal to a dimension that… well, that of which they didn’t know. The second they stepped through that door, they’d be whisked away to a universe beyond their knowing; one that could be infinitely better than the one they were currently in, or one that could be much, much worse. 

Their hands found each other once more, fingers sliding together like lock and key as they face the door together. Loki turns his head to face Sylvie the same time she does, matching shaky smiles of both nerves and anticipation on their faces. 

“Ready for another adventure?” Loki asks, and the squeeze of her hand in his gives him all the answers he needs. 

Whilst they didn’t know what would be waiting for them on the other side of the door, they had been certain that, as they stepped through the Time Door hand in hand and they disappeared out of sight as the warm glow of the portal faded, that the memory of what happened here would only belong to them as the wrath of nature let out her anger on the small town of Haven Hills, Alabama. 

But what they didn’t know was that this wasn’t the Haven Hills they knew. This was the version of Haven Hills that didn’t find itself wiped off the map, miraculously avoiding the complete and utter destruction the hurricane was predicted to inflict. It was here, for years and years later, the survivors that had taken shelter in the nearby Roxxcart would tell the stories of the mysterious strangers in the rain; who seemingly appeared together from thin air, shrouded by a veil of golden light that came and went with their arrival and exit. 

Rumors would be spread of these two people. As was such in the more religious southern state, the tale of these two strangers would be twisted into one of two angelic beings who had appeared in the glow of Heaven’s light with golden halo’s atop their head, the sheer sight of their loving embrace seemingly bringing God’s wrath to a stop. 

There were many iterations of such a story, but there was one consistent detail that remained in every iteration of this timeline's story of them: that the two of them were heroes, who had risked their lives to save the lives of many. 

And what else they didn’t know was that this was a story that would spread across multiple worlds, in multiple universes. A beacon of hope in even the dreariest of lands, the legend of these two saviors was one of whispered fantasy that wasn’t quite as much fantasy as some thought; the description of the two figures whose heads were adorned with angelic halo’s slowly changing to ones with protruding horns, no longer the devilish image that such a sight once brought. 

These hushed stories would, over time, be reduced to one word. A single word, whispered out by those in the most dire of situations, as if praying to the only God they’ve ever known. This word, this name, would reach the ears of a single man, of every version of this one man, spanning across billions upon billions of timelines. And - despite never having have met the subjects of these stories - he would speak the name out loud to himself as if it were the name of an old friend, waiting for the day they try and stop his work and he gets to greet them personally; of the two beings many people had promised would bring him down with their last, dying breath.

Loki. 

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions) Chapter 5

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, blood, gore, torture)

Chapter rating: M

Back to the rescue team and those left behind, focusing on BDubs and a surprise Mumbo Jumbo! (Bet you weren’t expecting Mumbo angst.) Thank you all again for your interest! As previously mentioned, if you enjoyed this, I was directly inspired by this fic over on AO3. 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

BDubs knew it was going to be hard trying to find where Etho and EvilX were hiding, but he neglected to remember how nerve wracking it would be with the added challenge of hearing his communicator go off every time someone died. Admittedly, it had only been the two times thus far, but checking and seeing they were both Etho made him want to go insane. The only boon they had, paradoxically, was the same curse keeping Etho stuck in that hell hole: that they were able to respawn in the same place they had died in. This at least meant that their progress wouldn’t be undone at a moment’s notice because someone died and got sent to their base halfway across the map in the opposite direction they were searching. 

After he had checked his communicator to see the death message, “Ethoslab was slain by Ethoslab whilst trying to escape EvilXisuma”; BDubs decided he would stop watching chat completely. If someone died, he knew they would be fine, and he really didn’t need to know how else Etho was going to suffer till they found him. Plus, he had Doc keeping an eye on Etho for him. And he had Beef by his side, plus the Big Eye crew supporting him. He just had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t alone, it wasn’t the jungle again, he had his people with him.

“Hey BDubs, you see anything yet?” called out Tango, flying by on his own elytra. BDubs startled in the straps of his elytra, and focused more on the ground below. 

“I got nothin’!” he called back, swooping to the back of the formation the big eyes crew had made to check the area stretching from the girls’ southernmost border to the northernmost border of Cleo and Joe’s shared territory. They had decided to first fly over their assigned strip of the x coordinate line to see if there was anything obviously wrong from a bird’s eye view. After that, depending on the results from the other search teams, they would dig down in strategic intervals to be as thorough as possible. They had calculated the size of the room based on the video feed before they had left, and so they planned on digging straight down every 9 blocks along the axis. As crazy as that was, they were hoping with forteen hermits all doing it at the same time equally spaced along the line, they would be able to find Etho within an hour or two. (This all assumed that EvilX hadn’t been lying, but this was the only thing they had.)

——————————————————-

Mumbo hated every decision that had led him to this moment. He hated every decision that others have made on his behalf that had led to this moment. (That was a lie, he blamed himself completely. Even though Grian had had the idea to institute him as the CEO of Boatem, it was still his final say as to whether he would actually complete the role assigned to him. It was his decision to step up to the plate and lead them at this critical time. Everything that was happening was entirely his fault.) As he watched, horrified, Etho having to stay strong without anyone by his side; Mumbo thought he would throw up. If he didn’t faint first that was. (How pathetic of him, that he couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions.) He stood miserable in front of the screen, promising himself the least he could do was watch every moment Etho was without help and in pain because of him.

Beside him, Xisuma frantically typed in his admin console, seemingly trying in vain to undo whatever EvilXisuma had done to the respawn mechanics. To his other side, TFC stood stoically, seemingly unaffected by what he was witnessing, though Mumbo was sure that if he looked over, he’d be able to see the disguised pain in TFC’s eyes. Behind and a bit to the side of Xisuma was Joe, who’s pain was obvious to see, but stood strong despite it. (Mumbo wondered why Joe was here at all, till he remembered how close Joe was to Xisuma). To TFC’s other side stood Doc, who looked about one more Etho death from finding a way to crawl through the screen and detonating in EvilXisuma’s face. And to Joe’s other side stood Scar, sympathetic tears trailing down his face and holding himself in a way that Mumbo knew he did when he was particularly missing the comfort of Jellie the cat.

Mumbo watched as Etho poofed back into existence, arm that he had mangled looking noticeably more mangled than before.(Though there was something off about the restraints and his arm’s relation to them that Mumbo couldn’t place. It didn’t help the camera’s resolution wasn’t quite perfect clarity, and a bit of a wide shot, so details were a little difficult to pick out. Though it didn’t stop them from seeing the next part just fine.) Once Etho was back, EvilXisuma punched him in the face, hard enough they could see a tooth fly out of his mouth.

“You will regret that,” stated EvilXisuma, just barely loud enough to be picked up by the camera. (Mumbo knows Etho would normally have replied with something like, ‘you already said that’, but, well…)

“Any updates Xisuma?” questioned Doc, still staring intently at the screen looking for any clues as to the whereabouts of the the torture room. 

“He’s still goin’ strong Doc,” replied Joe instead, peaking over Xisuma’s shoulder to see what he was up to. “You got any new clues?”

Doc growled under his breath. “No.” He sounded bitter to Mumbo, all acid and sharp edges. 

“I can’t tell, but there’s something different about his arm I think,” said Mumbo hesitantly, nervously watching as the rest of the group stared intently up at the screen to see what he meant. 

Scar spoke up, “I think I see what you mean. His arm isn’t quite aligned correctly with the chair arm, right?”

Mumbo nodded, pointing at Etho’s arm on the screen where it seemed to almost intersect with the cuff and was bleeding profusely. “I don’t know how, like if it was just a natural consequence of trying to move his arm in that direction as he died and respawned, or if it was just a one time fluke; but he seems to have gotten his wrist intersected with the cuff on the armrest and the stake from earlier seems off center.”

As Mumbo was trying to explain, EvilXisuma had begun to focus on Etho’s fingers, and starting on the opposite hand to the one they were observing, he began to break them individually. Mumbo was selfishly happy that he didn’t have to focus on Etho’s pain for a moment as he allowed himself to fully focus on the potential puzzle in front of him.

TFC suddenly spoke up, voice coming off as gruff. “Hrm, this is good and all, but it depends entirely on EvilXisuma not noticing this little update; which we’ve done a pretty poor job at not letting him on. What with him more than likely able to hear us, and all that.” Doc muttered a quiet, “fuck” under his breath in response, and they all held their breath as they waited to see if EvilXisuma would say anything.

Instead of saying anything, he continued to methodically snap more of Etho’s fingers, causing the group to flinch in varying amounts at each wet snap. However, as Mumbo was trying to take in details not relating to Etho’s pain, he could tell that the mic was picking up EvilXisuma’s muttering. But Mumbo didn’t have the super amazing hearing that someone like Ren or Grian had; but he wondered if one of the other people in the group here had more sensitive hearing. “Anyone able to make out what he’s saying?” muttered Mumbo.

Doc hissed a quiet affirmative, and muttered back, “Yesssss, but I need to focus. Please everyone be quiet, thanks.” Everyone but Xisuma nodded back, who was too busy still trying to figure out what EvilXisuma had done to the code to notice anything else around him. 

Mumbo did his best to both suffer the consequences of his actions, while at the same time he couldn’t stand watching one of his fellow Hermits in that much pain. He could no longer distract himself, as he couldn’t make out what EvilXisuma was saying, and there were only so many times he could try to determine how many pixels on the screen related to the walls were just stone or his imagination trying to give him impossible answers. EvilXisuma had finally finished with Etho’s left hand, and he now moved to the right before he took a noticeable pause. Mumbo held his breath, hoping beyond hope that EvilXisuma somehow hadn’t noticed Etho’s weirdly placed hand. But that was an impossible wish after all.

“Well well well, how have you managed this then?” Evil Xisuma appeared to poke the part of the wrist that seemed to be poking part way out of the cuff. Mumbo couldn’t help but notice that Etho seemed so gone that he barely flinched at what should have been an incredibly painful jostle. “I’m interested in seeing how you struggle with this.” Evil X nodded at Etho. “Yes, I shall let you struggle. But we still have about 9 more bones to break, so on we go.” With that, he kneeled in front of Etho and started snapping the fingers on Etho’s right hand. Each wet snap ended with a muted whine and shudder from Etho, who seemed to have zoned out far enough that any reactions seemed mostly involuntary at this point. EvilXisuma seemed quiet for the first few snaps, before he went back to muttering in a just barely audible way. Mumbo could only assume that EvilXisuma was unaware that his mic sensitivity was set too high, and thought he was muttering in such a way as for those of them watching the stream would be unable to hear him. That, or it was an unconscious habit, and didn’t even realize he was doing it. Either way, Mumbo continued hoping he would continue to do so, so that maybe he would let something slip and Doc could post it in chat.

Meanwhile Doc had been listening closely to what EvilX had been saying, but none of it thus far had led to a clue. Most of what he was muttering were curses and the terrible things he planned to do to Etho. Honestly Doc wished he couldn’t hear what EvilX was saying, just so that he wasn’t obligated to continue listening to see if that scum slipped up. But the chance of catching something important was too high, so he went back to diligently listening to the stream, mentally cursing at every suppressed gasp or whine or wet snap from Etho.

EvilXisuma made quick work of Etho’s fingers, and seemingly tired of Etho’s lack of responses decided he needed to kill him. However, because he was feeling particularly vindictive, he gutted Etho, guts spilling over his knees before he disappeared in a flash of red. Mumbo, morbidly curious how the game would register the death, looked down at his communicator. “Ethoslab was slain by EvilXisuma.” He was selfishly grateful that the server messages were that generic. He watched further as Etho poofed back into the chair, though as before his killing blow hadn’t followed him through respawn, but all his previous wounds did. Mumbo looked very carefully at Etho’s wrists and saw that he had managed to get his wrist farther out, and the stake seemed almost completely out of his arm. Unfortunately for Etho, respawn managed to break him out of his trance, and he seemed far more present and aware (and in pain) for the moment. The only positive that Mumbo could see was that EvilXisuma seemed to have either turned off the speakers on his end, or was ignoring them completely. But Mumbo could only hope that either Doc would hear something soon, or the search parties would stumble across the hidden room soon; because he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could watch.