#Midas is complaining again

[keeheauxtales]

tentative title: hung hyung

Permanent 🔞 Ecstasy

MDNI

gif ©️ me! believe it or not 😭

pairing: Intak (P1H) x male reader (dynamic up to individual interpretation tbh)

author’s notes: I am currently miles away from my comfort zone… I don’t think I've written MxM anything in around 10 years 👀😀. However, I made a vow to myself that I'd write a thing for my Intak-biased bestie whose birthday is this week. On top of that, last week we saw Piwon for the 3rd time, and this title is from Victoria Monét's "On My Mama" which Intak covered so deliciously. 🤭 There is an alluding to pup!Intak that’s been all the rage here recently – if you squint.

content warnings: profanity, semi-public blowjob (reader received)

Your friend has the midas touch, and you swear by that, as you enter into the dressing room backstage per said friend’s invitation. You expected to see all the members shuffling around to get ready for the show. However, you only see Intak rise up from his seat already dressed as the door opens, politely greeting you with that big smile of his.

You were not complaining in the slightest as THE Hwang Intak confirms your name that was given to him by word of mouth. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N! I heard you’ve been a fan since debut…” Intak says after you’ve greeted him back. His appreciative doe eyes stare right into your eager eyes as he thanks you for being so supportive since the beginning of his career.

“Of course, Intak,” you reply, “and you’ve always caught my attention… Your rapping is so good, and the way you move is incredible.” You don’t expect anything when your eyes subconsciously cruise up and down that toned body of his, but you find his eyes doing the same thing in that brief moment of silence after thanking you again.

You definitely don’t expect him to call you cute in such a shy manner before briefly peeking at his phone. As you continue staring at him, taking this moment in, you spy some naturally formed blush hitting his cheeks.

“You good, Intak?” you can’t help but ask him, that blush on his face getting a deeper pink, almost like the magenta on the UTOP1A concert logo.

“I’m… good,” he starts off, “but a bit nervous. Never had a one-on-one time with a fan before… especially a handsome one…”

His confession catches you off guard, the compliment at the end almost leaving you in disbelief. The moment you look down his body again, that disbelief intensifies as you notice a bulge forming in his pants.

Out of curiosity, you ask him, “Well… how did you expect this [interaction] to go?”

After pondering a moment, he begins to answer before trailing off in thought. “Not too sure… T-talking…” Honestly speaking, the moment Intak was informed about this encounter, and your friend showed him a picture they took of you, his mind started racing at a pace he was struggling to grasp. “Can we do something else though? We have time.”

You admired how cautious he was trying to be, eyes surveying his surroundings as he briskly walks over to the door, awaiting your confirmation before turning the lock on it. It was almost as if you both knew what happens after the locking of any door (in this type of setting) because it did not take long before his lips touched yours, and you granted him access to your mouth.

Moans escape the both of you as you trail your hands that were cupping his face down his seemingly chiseled body. Unlike Intak, you were a bit more unashamed with your actions, but tried to be just as cautious with your approach.

“Fuck,” Intak breathes out as you gently grab at his hardened bulge. His hand grips your thigh in response as you come to the realization that you’re just as hard. Intak’s soft lips graze down your neck, stopping at your chest before looking up at you (in part) for permission. You knowingly nod, admiring how he balances his shyness with his natural confidence so well.

Both of his hands rest on your thighs before congregating at the belt buckle atop of your shorts. Now, one would’ve solely unbuckled the object, but this showman here asks if you know about his solo stage.

“Of course!” you exclaim a bit breathlessly. “I… love that song… and what you did with it.” He smiles at the praise you give him for his hard work before he gradually pulls your belt out from your garments completely.

In a move similar to one from that performance, your belt is wrapped around his big hands before it’s discarded to the side. You both can’t help but smirk at the action before he guides you onto the vanity counter, leaning back on your hands as you anticipate Intak’s next moves.

He doesn’t even bother undoing the button of your shorts, he just pulls them down until they’re around your ankles. Mere seconds pass before your boxers receive that same treatment, your hard cock springing up, precum already dripping out of the tip.

He licks his lips, constantly looking up at you for permission. This time, you place a hand of yours on the nape of his neck before nodding at him to proceed. He sticks his tongue out, feeding himself some of your precum as an appetizer before taking you in his mouth.

You can’t help but curse out at him in pleasure, your legs planting themselves over his shoulders as he indulged in the feeling of your dick in his mouth. He moans around you in sheer delight before looking back up at your pleased expression. Your eyes were too closed to see how proud of himself he was becoming at the fact that he was clearly making you feel good.

While bobbing his head up and down your length, he caresses your thighs with varying degrees of roughness, feeling you shake ever-so-slightly beneath him. “Holy fuck, Intak,” you spit out, earning a quizzical moan from the boy, feeling the vibration rather deeply before you continue. “You’re really fucking good…”

Intak kept moaning as he kept sucking, one hand grabbing your nutsack with a bit more intensity than you would’ve been prepared for. What you may have missed was that Intak grabbed his still clothed hard cock at the same time, just barely thrusting into his hand in alternation with his bobbing head.

Both of you seemlessly transition from soft moans to low groans, your dick twitching in Intak’s mouth in a way that eggs him on even further. Once he hollows his throat to receive you to the hilt, you begin to lose it.

“I’m gonna cum, 'T-tak!” you manage to yell in a whispered state. Those same puppy eyes you were met with in the beginning approve of your next moves before they close tightly. He squeezes yours and his balls simultaneously before you both let out the most unabashed sounds, as you feel ropes of your warm semen enter Intak’s warm throat.

An echo of obscenities follows as you come down from your peak. Intak slowly backs away from you with a close-mouthed grunt, waiting until your heavy eyes reopen for him to open his mouth. You couldn’t help but moan at the pool of your release still resting in his mouth before he swallows.

For several reasons, Intak smiles in relief before slowly getting up. “I have to change my underwear,” he admits, chuckling so adorably. He begins to discard of everything on his lower half rather quickly, and that’s when you officially return to reality… To the practically vacant green room in the venue where you initially just came to enjoy a concert of one of your favorite artists.

Moments later, Intak returns clothed, almost running to you, whose pants… and belt… are back on your person (because you know timing is not of the essence in a situation like this). He seems to share a mutual interest in not wanting this moment to end anytime soon, as he manages to steal a couple more kisses from you before hearing the doorknob jiggle.

“Can you come back after the show?” Intak asks before unlocking the door. His gaze never leaves you as he awaits your response. You take it upon yourself to steadily get up from the counter to avoid any speculation before answering.

“If I can walk, sure!” you both laugh before the door opens and the remaining members of P1Harmony enter. You quickly greet them before scurrying out of the room to allow them some pre-show privacy.

This is already the best concert experience of your life, and it hadn’t even begun yet.

[liuisi]

thank you @brown-little-robin for tagging me . YEAH BABY ITS ME AGAIN YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS. shuffling my on repeat playlist and giving the first ten songs. usually i wouldn't do it so close to the last time BUT my on repeat actually refreshed so its all new ones !!

OOWEE torey d'shaun has joined the rank of the rare rap music i like . vibing very hard to this

quiet inside waterdeep of COURSE. loml. where would i be without her

pachyephalosaurus showbread is SO GOOD. recently Actually listened to showbread and their entire age of reptiles album has wormed itself into my brain. SUCH A GOOD SOUND. IM OBSESSED

deliver me john mark mcmillan. does mr john mark mcmillan know that his music has changed my life . spiritless and haunted like some excarnate beast still i feel the ancient lights of heaven pressing down on me ????

dinosaur bones showbread. THIS ALBUM AGAIN. im telling you. losing my mind. I LOVE YOU GOOD CHRISTIAN ROCK ‼️‼️‼️ my bones don't click in place when i sit on the machine not as of late do i integrate scarcely say what i mean this thing was built with one of my ribs i was there when it was given a name !!!

amateur lovers switchfoot is the most song ever simply. speaking of albums oh! gravity has also been on repeat in my brain . can you BELIEVE i used to think it was too hard of a rock sound for me to enjoy. GIRL WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

couple cheap rings waterdeep. every day of my life i go on the waterdeep artist profile page and i find a new album i could've SWORN wasn't there yesterday. how do they have so many . im not complaining ❤️ of course. anyways this is a mewer discovery and its SO FUN

i know - i just don't care neon horse. TOKEN NEON HORSE SONG . i just KNOW that when my on repeat catches up its going to be 95% neon horse . this one is on Top with my favourite songs from them i think...

the jig is up edison glass i am OBSESSED with the sound on that one WE CAN HANDLE IT ALL AND YOULLL SAY ‼️‼️YOULL SAY 🗣️🗣️

faust midas and myself switchfoot another oh gravity song !!! this one is so good to me i love you story songs I LOVE YOUUU

tagging !! anyone who sees this and wants to do it? honestly ive tagged ppl in this one very recently so i would feel a little silly doing it again

[night-raven-miscellany]

Oh dear, most of the cleaning supplies in Ramshackle is gold again. Midas is sprawled out on the couch 'innocently', just twirling a pencil.

(- @golden-kimera )

Yuna grimaced, clutching a, now golden, broom with white knuckles and her eye twitched.

"...Again? Really? Really?!" She asked, holding the broom out with a dumbfounded expression. "Can we please go just ONE WEEK without me finding various belongings throughout the dorm being turned into solid gold?! I wouldn't complain if I could sell it, but I'm pretty sure this place does NOT follow the gold standard for money."

[darklinaforever]

You know what makes me laugh and amazes me ?

That people complain about Gold, the first volume of Raven Kennedy's series, for being toxic and not a romance, an apology for the worst things there is, whereas... it's not a romance.

The story of Auren and Midas is not a romance, and the author does not romanticize this relationship at any point.

Auren will eventually break away from Midas who will pay for his horrible actions. At no time was their relationship romanticized.

And I sincerely worry about the people / antis who criticize this book in the opposite direction, thinking that the book glorifies this relationship and romanticizes it.

These people shouldn't read books. They don't know how to read at this stage.

And if they think this story between Auren and Midas is being portrayed as a romance, I worry about their reading comprehension skills, truly... Either that, or they're being willfully stupid.

The worst part is that I've seen people say that the fact that it stands out in the other volumes is no excuse because volume 1 still exists.

Except that once again, the story of Midas and Auren is not and never has been a romance ! This is clear abuse, both physical and mental !

This person also claims with this intelligent thought that the author could have completed the story of these two in two chapters instead of continuing in a vacuum to romanticize gore, and that amazes me.

Victims of abuse often live in a repeating cycle and don't get out of it (if they ever get out of it...) for a long time. You already need the mental trigger to understand being a victim of abuse.

These people once again have no reading skills.

Don't you like reading stories with complicated themes ? Well don't read it !

But don't come and say that the book is poorly done because you didn't understand it.

[rainwingmarvel7]

Teenage Wasteland/My Ordinary Life - Chapter 3

Tags: @weltsarchives @sikudastoner

Get ready y’all. This is a longer one!

Chapter 3 - Touch Me, Midas

       “Fenrir, I need you to do something for me,” Mobius instructed. He seemed excited, for reasons Fenrir didn’t yet know.

      He obediently got up from the desk he was seated at and began to follow the older man. “What do you want me to do?”

     “I want you to go watch a trial,” Mobius responded. “You’ll have to go without me, since there’s been another branch on the Timeline I need to investigate that we suspect the Variant is behind, but I’ll try to make it back before the trial is over. This is a big one.”

     “Ugh, seriously? You want me to sit through another boring trial?” Fenrir complained. He hated having to watch the trials of the TVA prisoners. They always ended the same way, with the prisoner getting pruned. And it reminded him of his own trial, when he had been a scared little boy, terrified of what awaited him if Mobius hadn’t stepped in.

      “Yeah, I do,” Mobius responded. “And stop whining. It’s unprofessional.” Fenrir rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest any further as he did as he was told and made his way down to the courtroom.

      The courtroom was almost completely empty, as usual, aside from Judge Renslayer and several guards. Fenrir took his seat near the front of the courtroom just before the doors into the courtroom opened behind them, revealing the prisoner about to be served their fate.

      Fenrir turned his head to get a look at the prisoner, then froze, his eyes widening as his mouth fell open in shock. He recognized that face, those piercing green eyes and long black hair so much like his own. It was Fenrir’s father, Loki Laufeyson, who he hadn’t seen since before he had been taken by the TVA himself.

      As Fenrir was still recovering from the shock of seeing his father he had never thought he’d see again, not in person anyways, Loki was lead to the podium in front of Judge Renslayer, the same one Fenrir himself had stood at as a terrified little boy, although he seemed more confused and annoyed at the situation than terrified.

    “Laufeyson,” Ravonna said, reading off the case file in front of her. “Variant L1130, aka Loki Laufeyson, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89.” She looked up at Fenrir’s father expectantly. “How do you plead?”

    Loki chuckled. “Madam, a god doesn’t plead. Look, this has been a very enjoyable pantomime, but I’d like to go home now.”

    “Are you guilty or not guilty, sir?” Renslayer asked, irritated.

    Now Loki scoffed. “Guilty of being the God of Mischief? Yes. Guilty of finding all this incredibly tedious? Yes.” Fenrir snorted. “Guilty of a crime against the Sacred Timeline? Absolutely not, you have the wrong person.”

     “Oh, really? And who should we have?” Judge Renslayer asked, obviously unconvinced of his claim.

    “I suspect the Avengers,” Loki responded, and Fenrir realized he was serious. His father truly believed he was innocent. But, as he was about to find out, if you were arrested by the TVA, you were never innocent. “You see, I came into possession of the Tesseract, because they traveled through time,” Loki continued. “No doubt in a last-ditch effort to stave off my ascent to God King.”

     “That’s quite an accusation,” Renslayer remarked. Loki was wrong, of course, even Fenrir knew that Loki never became God King - it was Thanos and the Infinity Stones that had led to the Avengers’ Time Heist, not his father.

      “Oh, believe me, you can smell the cologne of two Tony Starks,” Loki assured her. As he spoke, Mobius appeared, taking a seat next to Fenrir and flashing him a knowing grin as he adjusted his suit jacket. “You speak of Time Criminals? It’s they you should be after. Perhaps you could provide me with a taskforce and resources, and I could return and eliminate them for you.”

      “We’re not here to talk about the Avengers,” Ravonna said pointedly.

      “Oh, no?” Loki asked.

      “No,” Renslayer responded. “What they did was supposed to happen. You escaping was not.”

      Loki paused for a moment, seeming confused, and rightfully so, then laughed as if he still didn’t believe it. “Right. Uh…‘Not supposed to happen’? According to whom?”

      “The Time-Keepers?” Ravonna responded as if it were obvious, which, in the TVA, it was.

      “Oh, the Time-Keepers,” Loki repeated, as if he had forgotten, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Right. Well, perhaps I should speak to these Time-Keepers, gods to gods.” He winked at Ravonna, trying to use his usual charm to convince her, but she remained unfazed.

      “I’m sorry, but they’re quite busy,” she informed him, unamused.

      “Oh, they are?” Loki remarked. “What are they doing?”

      “Dictating the proper flow of time,” Renslayer responded, folding her hands together. Loki was clearly getting under her skin, and, as much as Fenrir liked her, he couldn’t help but find it entertaining.

      “I see. Right. And then what do you do?” Loki asked.

     “Dictate the proper flow of time according to their dictations,” Ravonna replied, her quickened words betraying her increasing irritation. “How do you plead?”

     Loki considered for a moment, then responded, “Guilty…” He began to extend his hands outward, away from his body. “Of this.”

    He clenched his fists and thrust his chest forward, slamming his foot down on the podium, but nothing happened. Loki’s brow furrowed, confused, and Fenrir grinned with amusement while several others stifled laughter, especially when Loki tried again, still looking puzzled as to why his magic wasn’t working.

     “What’s going on?” Ravonna demanded, unsure of what to make of the display.

     “Hang on. Everyone quiet,” Loki said, continuing to try to use his powers.

     B-15, who had brought Loki in, chuckled and said, “He’s trying to use his powers, ma’am.”

     “Don’t rush me,” Loki said, and gave one last thrust, this one more dramatic than his other attempts, but still nothing happened, and Fenrir couldn’t help a burst of laughter at the poor display. Loki slammed his hands down against the podium, growing frustrated. “Damn it! Why won’t it work?”

     “Magic powers?” Judge Renslayer murmured. “They’re no good in the TVA, Mr. Laufeyson. The court finds you guilty, and I sentence you to be reset.” She banged her gavel, signaling the end of the trial. “Next case, please!”

    “‘Reset?’ What does that mean?” Loki demanded as B-15 and another guard moved to grab him. “What, is it bad? What does it mean?”

      The guards continued to lead him away, but Loki fought against them, voice rising in anger. “Hey! You ridiculous bureaucrats will not dictate how my story ends!”

      “It’s not your story, Mr. Laufeyson,” Ravonna responded, looking down at the papers in front of her before giving him a pointed look. “It never was.”

      “You have no idea what I’m capable of!” Loki yelled furiously, throwing himself forward as he tried to break free of the hold the two guards had on him, to no avail.

      Fenrir stood, about to protest, unwilling to let his father be pruned before he even got the chance to speak to him, but Mobius beat him to it.

      “I…I think I might,” he interjected, standing up beside Fenrir. “Have an idea of what he’s capable of.” He indicated Loki, who was pulled around sharply to face Judge Renslayer again.

      “What are you doing?” Fenrir muttered.

      “You’ll see,” Mobius responded with a wink. “It’s all part of my plan.”

      “Approach the bench,” Ravonna ordered, and Mobius did as he was told, gesturing for Fenrir to follow, which he did. Loki watched them walk past, his arms still restrained by the guards, looking confused.     

     “Hi,” Mobius greeted Renslayer softly, while Fenrir offered her a smirk and a wave.

     Ravonna leaned over the bench to address him, eyebrows raised. “If you’re thinking what I think you are, it’s a bad idea.”

     “Okay, I’m just chasing a hunch,” Mobius responded innocently. “I’d say it worked out pretty well with Fenrir when I did with him.”

      “Anything goes sideways, it’s on you,” she hissed gravely.

     “Okay,” Mobius replied. “I feel like I’m always looking up to you. I like it. It’s appropriate.”

      Fenrir rolled his eyes as Ravonna gave Mobius a warning look, but pulled away, a signal of reluctant permission. Both men then turned to face Loki, who again fought against the guards restraining him, grunting with effort.

      “And who are you?” he demanded of both of them. Mobius just stared back at him, a small, knowing grin on his face.

     “I’m gonna burn this place to the ground,” Loki hissed as he walked with Mobius and Fenrir out of the courtroom.

     “I’ll show you where my desk is, you can start there,” Mobius replied, and Fenrir smirked at the remark.

    Loki looked at them both, surprised by Mobius’ wit, then out at the view beyond, past the protective stone barrier and metal railing that separated them from the rest of the TVA sprawling out around them. He stopped in his tracks, and Fenrir and Mobius stopped with him.

     “Have a look,” Mobius offered, as Loki stepped towards the railing, following after him, Fenrir at his heels.

     “Home sweet home,” Mobius muttered. It truly was an impressive sight, with massive, spired buildings of sparkling copper and silver, the occasional flying vehicle speeding by, a vast expanse of industrial, yet beautiful architecture.

     Loki continued to stare out at the view for several more moments, before turning back to Mobius and Fenrir. “I thought there was no magic here.”

    “There isn’t,” Mobius responded. Both he and Loki looked back out at the view, while Fenrir leaned against the railing, watching them, especially his father.

     “That’s not real,” Loki said after a moment, looking away.

     “It is,” Mobius replied with a sigh, moving to put an arm around Loki’s shoulder. “And, unfortunately, so is all the paperwork.” He started leading Loki back down the hall, Fenrir following close behind. “Good tinder for your fire, though. Come on.”

     “This place is a nightmare,” Loki muttered, starting to walk ahead.

     “That’s another department,” Mobius remarked, catching up to him. “Now that department I’ll help you burn down.”

    “Same here,” Fenrir added from behind them. “That place is a real hellhole.”

     It wasn’t long before they reached the elevator, and Fenrir ended up standing beside Mobius, pressed up against the wall because of the tight spacing, with Loki on his mentor’s other side. It was strange being in the same elevator as him, after not seeing his father in person for so many years, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but stare. This wasn’t his father like he remembered him, he knew, but it was still his father nonetheless.

     After a moment, Loki sighed, and Mobius turned to look at him. “I’m Agent Mobius, by the way,” he introduced himself. He held out a hand to shake, which Loki didn’t take, then gestured to Fenrir with one hand. “And this is Fenrir, my protege.”

    “Fenrir,” Loki repeated the name, brows furrowed. His pale green eyes bored into Fenrir’s own for a long moment, as if searching for something, before he returned his gaze to Mobius. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”

    “No. That’s where you just were,” Mobius responded. “I’m taking you some place to talk.”

    “I don’t like to talk,” Loki said, and Fenrir snorted, knowing full well that wasn’t true.

    “But you do like to lie,” Mobius pointed out. “Which you just did.” Loki considered this, looking about Mobius with his brows still drawn together. “Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie.” He made a talking motion with one hand as he spoke, grinning.

     “How long have you been here?” Loki demanded, clearly not amused.

     Mobius sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say, time passes differently here in the TVA.”

    “What does that mean?” Loki asked, tilting his head closer to the man.

    “You’ll catch up,” Mobius responded simply.

    The elevator came to a stop, and a moment later the doors opened, Loki and Mobius stepping out first, and Fenrir following close behind. “So, you’re part of the TVA’s courageous and dedicated workforce?” he asked Mobius, then glanced back at Fenrir and added, “And so are you, I’m guessing?”

     “Yes,” Mobius responded. “And, as I just mentioned, Fenrir here is my protege, not to mention one of the best Minutemen in the entire TVA.”

     “You were created by the Time-Keepers,” Loki continued.

     “Yep,” Mobius replied.

     “But I wasn’t,” Fenrir said, and Loki flashed him a curious look, to which he just shrugged at, before turning back to Mobius.

     “To protect the Sacred Timeline.”

     “Correct.”

     Loki laughed as they reached a short staircase to the Time Theater, Fenrir realized, and both he and Mobius began to descend, but Loki remained at the top. Mobius turned to look up at him as he went down, while Fenrir stopped at the bottom to wait for him, looking up at the two men. “Is that funny?” Mobius called to Loki.

     “The idea that your little club decides the fate of trillions of people across all of existence at the behest of three space lizards,” Loki responded, coming down the stairs, and Mobius gestured for the guard standing in front of the giant wooden doors of the Time Theater to open the door. “Yes. It’s funny. It’s absurd.”

    Mobius observed him for a moment, then said, “I thought you didn’t like to talk.” Loki scoffed and looked away, annoyed.

    Mobius simply sighed as the guard opened the door, waving a hand towards the room beyond. “After you.”

   Loki did as he was told, going inside the room with Fenrir at his heels and Mobius bringing up the rear. The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the Time Theater.

    Already knowing what was about to happen, having been in this room many times before, both with and without permission, Fenrir followed Mobius over to the small metal table in the center of the room, with a bright orange spherical device, the controls to the Holoprojector 35, which Fenrir knew played tapes of the lives of people on the Sacred Timeline, the way they were supposed to play out, sitting on it, and three chairs surrounding it, taking a seat. Loki stayed by the door, suspicious of their intentions.

    “For the record, this really does feel like a killing-me kind of a room,” Loki remarked.

    “Not big on trust, are you?” Mobius asked, setting down the files he was holding.

    “Trust is for children and dogs,” Loki responded, beginning to approach the table. “There’s only one person you can trust.”

    “Yourself?” Mobius replied, turning on the holoprojector, a projection of the TVA logo materializing in front of it, in the area meant to act as a screen. “I like it. Slap it on a T-shirt.”

    “If the TVA truly oversees all of time,” Loki began. “How have I never heard of you until now?”

    “‘Cause you never needed to,” Mobius responded, adjusting a few plugs and switches on the device. “You’ve always lived within your set path.”

     “I live within whatever path I choose,” Loki argued back.

     “Sure you do,” Mobius remarked. Both he and Fenrir knew full well that the TVA decided the path everyone was meant to follow in life. That was why Fenrir had ended up here instead of living out the rest of his life in his own reality. Mobius finished setting up his device, then gestured for Loki to approach. “Okay, come have a seat.”

     Loki hesitated for a moment, before starting forward, but both Mobius and Fenrir could immediately tell that he had no intention of doing as Mobius instructed. He was moving too quickly, with a hint of aggression in his posture that suggested he was about to try something.

    Mobius was quick to whirl around and grab the Time Twister remote that connected to the device secured around Loki’s neck. He twisted the knob, and Loki was sent back to where he was originally standing before he had tried to attack Mobius, looking incredibly irritated at his foiled plan.

    “I told you, time moves differently in the TVA,” Mobius said. He waved Loki over again. “Come on, sit down.” He sat down on his own seat beside Fenrir, who was watching his father closely. “Let’s get into this.”

    Now, Loki approached more slowly, obviously wary now that he knew that Mobius could control his movements, and pointed at the empty wiry chair waiting for him questioningly.

    “Go on, have a seat,” Mobius instructed. Loki did as he was told now, sitting down in the chair and leaning back, with his arms crossed in a form of mild defiance, giving Mobius a pointed look. “If looks could kill. You know, I get that kind of look all the time from Fenrir over here.”

     “What do you want from me?” Loki demanded, ignoring the comment.

     Mobius inhaled, before responding, “Well, let’s start with a little cooperation.”

     “Not my forte,” Loki said.

     “Really? Even when you’re wooing someone powerful you intend to betray?” Mobius asked. “Or the woman you love? Come on.”

     “You don’t know anything about me,” Loki said pointedly. That last comment had clearly bothered him, with the mention of Fenrir’s mother. He was very protective of her, he always had been, and Mobius mentioning her made him defensive. That, and he still had his pride to maintain.

     “Maybe I’d like to learn,” Mobius replied smoothly. He passed a can of Josta energy drink, the first energy drink in America and a favorite amongst TVA staff, to Fenrir before popping the lid of a second one for himself, a carbonated fizzle escaping from the now opened can. Fenrir opened his own and took a sip, the fruity flavor bubbling brightly on his tongue. He didn’t much care for the drink, having had it so many times, more than he could count, but it was one of the only ones available in the TVA, and it still somehow gave him a sense of comfort that he couldn’t quite explain. “I specialize in the pursuit of dangerous Variants.”

     “Like myself?” Loki assumed.

     “Mmm…” Mobius hummed, swallowing a sip of his drink and shaking his head slightly. “No, particularly dangerous Variants. You're just a little pussycat.” Fenrir suppressed a chuckle by taking another swig of his drink, although he allowed the smirk he knew was visible on his face, while Loki simply glared daggers at Mobius, who wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “I got a set of questions for you. You answer the questions honestly, and then maybe I can give you something you want. You wanna get out of here, right?” Loki tilted his head at that, looking slightly intrigued. “Yeah, so we’ll start there. Should you return, what are you gonna do?”

     Loki inhaled deeply, leaning back slightly in his chair, before responding simply, “Finish what I started.”

    “Which is?” Mobius questioned.

    “Claim my throne,” Loki said.

    “I know, but king of what exactly?” Mobius asked. Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe that Mobius didn’t understand what he was planning to achieve.

    “You wouldn’t understand,” he told the man, his voice loaded with arrogance.

     “Try me,” Mobius responded. “I think Fenrir and I  can get it.”

     Loki shifted slightly in his seat. “Midgard.”

     “AKA Earth,” Mobius commented, looking down at the files spread out in front of him. “All right. Now you’re the king of Midgard, then what? Happily ever after?”

     Loki chuckled slightly. “Asgard, the Nine Realms. ”

     “Space?” Mobius questioned.

     “Space?” Loki repeated, unimpressed.

     “Space is big,” Mobius reasoned. “That’d be a nice feather in your cap. ‘Loki, the King of Space.’”

     “Mock me if you dare,” Loki said, his voice dangerously low.

     “No, I’m not,” Mobius responded, chuckling. “Honestly, I’m actually a fan. Yeah.”

     “It’s true,” Fenrir concurred, raising the Josta can to his lips to take another sip.

     “And I guess I’m just wondering why does someone with so much range just wanna rule?” Mobius continued curiously.

     Loki just stared at him for a moment, before the slightest of smirks formed on his face and he leaned forward slightly. “I would’ve made it easy for them.”

    “People like easy,” Mobius commented.

    “The first and most oppressive lie ever uttered was the song of freedom,” Loki said.

    “How’s that one go?” Mobius asked.

    “For nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret,” Loki continued. “There’s a fork in every road, yet the wrong path always taken.”

    “Good. Yeah,” Mobius remarked, unaffected by Loki’s speech. “You said ‘nearly every living thing,’ so I’m guessing you don’t fall into that category?”

    Loki chuckled, shaking his head, before letting out a sigh. “The Time-Keepers have built quite the circus, and I see the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.” He hadn’t answered the question. Fenrir knew that it was because, whether or not his father was actually willing to admit it, some of his choices had led him to shame and uncertainty and regret of his own.

    Mobius didn’t seem in the least bit offended, and he chuckled, amused at Loki’s attempt at an insult. “Big metaphor guy. I love it. Makes you sound super smart.”

    “I am smart,” Loki said indignantly.

    “I know,” Mobius responded, nodding.

    “Okay,” Loki said, eyeing him, as if trying to gauge if they were actually in agreement.

    Mobius continued to nod for several more seconds, seeing they had come to a relative understanding. “Okay.” He reached out and pressed a button on the holoprojector controls, and it began whirring quietly as the tape inside started running. A loading screen appeared on the small black and white screen of the device, and a moment later, the actual holoprojector itself turned on, a display of the New York skyline falling into place in front of them.

     Loki stared at it for a moment, then scoffed, looking away. “What is this?”

     “A sampling of your greatest hits, if I may,” Mobius responded. He pressed another button on the device’s keypad, and the display changed to a view of the Avengers, the original ones, including Fenrir’s mother and her friends, looking down at them, Hawkeye pointing his bow directly at them. It was from Loki’s perspective, Fenrir knew, having watched this tape many times over, when he had been defeated during the Battle of New York.

     Loki looked at the scene, then sighed and looked away again, clearly not wanting to relive that particular moment. A voice, his own voice, came over the room as he spoke in the video, the scene changing to him, beaten and bloody, sitting up from where he had been smashed into the floor by the Hulk, and the Loki sitting in front of Fenrir shifted in his chair and raised a hand to his head, having no desire to look, as he listened. “If it’s all the same to you…I’ll have that drink now.”

    Mobius held up his energy drink to Loki, an offer to give him one if he wanted, playing off of what he had said in the video. “No,” Loki responded. “And I remember. I was there. Anything else?”

    “It’s funny, for someone born to rule, you sure do lose a lot,” Mobius remarked. “You might even say it’s in your nature.”

    “You know, things didn’t turn out so well for the last person who said that to me,” Loki said.

    “Oh, yeah, Phil Colson,” Mobius said. He pressed another button and the scene changed to Phil Colson himself, standing with a giant gun pointed to someone offscreen, who Fenrir knew was Loki, and in a blink of an eye, the tip of a scepter had been pierced through his chest, Loki stepping into the scene as he drove the scepter deeper in, and he groaned, collapsing to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. “No!” Thor’s voice shouted from somewhere offscreen.

     “Didn’t the Avengers come together to literally avenge him by defeating you?” Mobius asked.

     “Little solace to a dead man,” Loki spat.

     “Do you enjoy hurting people?” Mobius continued to question him, and again, he changed the scene, this time to the Battle of New York, the destruction the Chitari caused as they rained down on the streets of New York. “Making them feel small? Making them feel afraid?”

    “Your games don’t frighten me,” Loki said.

    “Making them feel little?” Mobius continued.

    “I know what I am,” Loki said, growing more and more irritated.

     “A murderer?” Mobius asked.

     “A liberator,” Loki responded.

     Mobius jerked his head back a little, surprised by his answer. “Of eyeballs, maybe.” Again, he changed the scene to the exact moment he was referencing, when Fenrir’s father had used a special device to cut a man’s eye out to get past security. The poor man’s pained screams filled the room as they watched the scene. It shifted to a closeup of Loki’s face, where a small, pleased smile began to creep on his lips, taking in the fear of the terrified people screaming and yelling all around him. “Look at that smile,” Mobius said. “You are enjoying that. Did you enjoy hurting them?”

     “I don’t have to play this game,” Loki replied. “I’m a god.”

     “Of what, again? Mischief, right?” Mobius questioned. “Yeah, I don’t see anything very mischievous about this.” The screen now showed civilians watching as their city was attacked, and Mobius paused it there.

     Loki paused for a moment, before pointedly responding, “No, I don’t suppose you do.” Mobius sighed, fiddling with his pencil for a moment as he considered, before looking back up at Loki. “Let’s talk about your escapes. You’re really good at doing awful things, and then getting away.”

    “What can I say? I’m a mischievous scamp,” Loki responded.

    “This is one of my favorites,” Mobius said, pressing another button. The scene changed to an airplane, with a flight attendant dressed in a red flight attendant uniform walking down the aisles, a serving tray in hand.

    “From the flight deck, Captain William A. Scott,” the captain’s voice came over the video from the PA system on the plane. “Northwest Orient Airlines 305, on schedule to land in Seattle. Flight time, approximately…”

    The flight attendant came to a stop in front of one of the passengers, and Fenrir already knew who it was. He had watched this many times with Mobius, who would bring it up almost every time they talked about his father. “Bourbon and soda?” she asked the man, who looked up at her, one hand on his chin.

    Loki, short hair slicked back and unnaturally brown, and wearing a suit, accepted the drink from her. “Thank you.”

    “Absolutely,” the flight attendant responded. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

     Loki reached into his suit jacket, rummaging around for something. “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” He pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to the flight attendant. She chuckled, and he winked at her. Fenrir scoffed and looked away for a moment, arms crossed. He knew it was in his father’s nature to act charming around everyone, but he hated it when he saw him flirt with anyone other than his mother. Loki, the one sitting in front of him, noticed this, but said nothing.

     Meanwhile, the Loki in the video started to let the flight attendant walk away, before suddenly saying, “Uh, Miss?”

     The flight attendant turned around to face him with a smile, leaning down towards him. “Yes, Mr. Cooper?”

     “You might want to take a look at that note,” he said. The flight attendant stared at him for a moment, her smile falling slightly as her expression became more careful, and Loki whispered, “I have a bomb.”

     Her gaze drifted over to the briefcasue in the seat beside him, his hand casually resting on it, and a look of concern and fear washed over her face. She looked back at him, eyes wide, and he grinned back.

     The scene cut to the plane, which had made an emergency landing after the flight attendant had reported Fenrir’s father, and through the airplane window, she could be seen going out to speak to a man with a briefcase, both of them surrounded by police cars and armed policemen who had their guns aimed at the man inside the plane.

     Loki, wearing sunglasses now, watched what was going on outside, then sat back in his seat, a pleased grin spreading across his face.

     “I fail to see how this has any relevance or bearing on…” Loki began, but Mobius shushed him.

     “No, this is the good part,” he said. Back on the screen, the flight attendant was presenting Loki with a duffel bag stuffed with money, as he strapped on a parachute, tightening the straps, before turning around and moving to take the bag from the flight attendant, flashing her a charming smile. Fenrir was impressed with her composure. She was obviously terrified, but only the slightest hint of anxiety showed on her face.

     As Loki took the bag, he lowered his sunglasses to wink at her. “See you again someday.” Fenrir rolled his eyes. Loki pushed his sunglasses back up on his face, taking the bag from her hands as she watched him with an awestruck smile, falling victim to his charms despite the situation she was in, as was his effect on people.

     Loki turned and started to walk towards the back of the plane, grunting as he carried the bag, heavy with cash. “Brother, Heimdall, you better be ready,” he muttered to himself.

     The scene cut to the plane, soaring through the blue, cloud-filled sky. Fenrir’s father jumped from the back of the plane, and as he fell through the sky, the dazzling rainbow light of the Bifrost shot down to intercept him, and he vanished, leaving behind spilled cash fluttering wildly in the wind.

    “I can’t believe you were D.B. Cooper,” Mobius exclaimed, slamming his hand against the table excitedly. “Come on!”

    “I was young, and I lost a bet to Thor,” Loki said. “Where was the TVA when I was meddling with these affairs of men?”

    “We were right there with you,” Mobius responded. “Just surfing that Sacred Timeline.”

    “Oh, so that had the Time-Keepers’ seal of approval, did it?” Loki asked.

    “Well, I wouldn’t think of it in terms of approval and disapproval,” Mobius said, gesturing with a hand to indicate each. “That’s sort of a…” He paused, waving his hand dismissively. “Let’s get back to escapes…” Loki sighed, hanging his head. “…and a little psychobabble. What is it that you think you’re really running from?��

     “Enough.” Loki started to get up, but Mobius simply pulled the Time Twister out of his jacket and twisted it, and Loki was sent back to his seat. He sighed again, leaning back in his chair.

    “Back in your cage,” Mobius remarked. Loki smoothed out his shirt, annoyed. “See, I can play the heavy keys, too.”

    “I was just standing up to make a point,” Loki defended.

    Mobius chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry, go ahead.” He motioned for Loki to continue.

    “It won’t be as meaningful now,” Loki protested.

    “Okay, well, stay seated,” Mobius responded.

    “I’ll do what I want to do!” Loki exclaimed, only growing more frustrated.

    “Sure,” Mobius responded calmly. Loki stood up again, pushing his chair aside, and began to pace around the room.

    He sighed after a moment, and then turned to look at Mobius and Fenrir. “What is it exactly that you want?”

    “I want you to be honest about why you do what you do,” Mobius replied.

    “Liar,” Loki said.

    “I’m serious,” Mobius insisted, standing up now too. “All I seek is a deeper understanding of the fearsome God of Mischief. Fenrir, too.” Loki put his hands to his hips and looked up at the ceiling with a scoff. “What makes Loki tick?”

     “I know what this place is,” Loki said, still looking up at the ceiling.

     “What is it?” Mobius asked expectantly.

     “It’s an illusion,” Loki responded. “It’s a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear. A desperate attempt at control.” He gestured towards the door, at the rest of the TVA. “Now, you all parade about as if you’re the divine arbiters of power in the universe.”

     “We are,” Mobius said.

     “You’re not,” Loki insisted. “My choices are my own.”

     “Your choice is your own,” Mobius repeated. “Good, let’s go with that.” He leaned over and pushed another button on the holoprojector controller, switching to another scene. “I think this one’s gonna fire you up.”

    “The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power,” Loki said as he walked amongst people bowing down before him. Germany.

     “Precisely,” Loki agreed with his past self. “I was…I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it’ll be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen. Or because you or the Time Variance Authority, or whatever it is you call yourselves, allowed me to. Honestly, you’re pathetic. You’re an irrelevance.” He made a swerving motion with his hand. “A detour. A footnote to my ascent.”

      “You finished?” Mobius asked. “You’re gonna start taking things seriously.” Loki groaned, putting his hands on his hips and looked down at the ground. “If you hadn’t picked up the Tesseract, you would have been taken to a cell on Asgard.” He switched the scene again, and now the video showed Fenrir’s father being led in chains to face Odin for his punishment. The sound of the chains jingling caught Loki’s attention, and he looked up at the screen.

     “Loki,” Frigga, Loki’s adopted mother, Fenrir’s grandmother, looking as regal and impressive as ever, murmured as he approached her. Beside her, Fenrir’s mother stood, still bearing some of her injuries from the Battle of New York, concern written on her face.

     Mobius stared at Loki to see if he was paying attention, gesturing at the screen with his thumb, mouthing the word “Mom”.

     “Hello Mother, my beloved,” the Loki on the video addressed each woman in turn. “Have I made you proud?”

      “Please don’t make this worse,” Frigga pleaded.

      “What is this?” Loki demanded incredulously. “This is nonsense, more tricks. This never even happened.”

      “Not to you,” Mobius replied. “Not yet. Look, the TVA doesn’t just know your whole past, we know your whole life, how it’s all meant to be. Think of it as comforting.”

      Loki shook his head. “This is absurd.”

      “And am I not your mother?” Frigga asked on screen. Loki in the scene chuckled softly. This caught the attention of the Loki standing in front of Fenrir, and he slowly began to approach the table again, unable to take his eyes off the screen.

      “You’re not,” Loki responded.

      “Hmm,” Frigga hummed. “Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.”

      “And then the Dark Elves attack the palace, and you think you send them to Thor,” Mobius explained.

     “You might wanna take the stairs to the left,” Loki on the screen informed one of the Dark Elves, a smirk playing on his lips, thinking he was going to get revenge on his brother.

     “But instead, you send them…” Mobius trailed off as the scene played out in front of them.

     “I’ll never tell,” Frigga said, as a massive Dark Elf held her by the throat with his arm. The blade of a sword was stabbed into her back, and she groaned in pain. Loki stared at the screen in horror, his lips trembling as he took a step back. The video shifted to show Frigga laying on the ground, eyes closed, lying still. Fenrir looked away for a moment, shifting in his chair. He had not known his grandmother well, having been a mere child at the time of her death, but the scene was still a painful one for him to watch.

     Loki took another step back, breath shuddering. “Where do you have her? Where is she?”

     “You lead them right to her,” Mobius responded with a shrug.

      “I don’t believe you,” Loki said, voice rising. “You’re lying. It’s not true.”

      “It is true,” Mobius replied with a nod. “That’s the proper flow of time, and it happens again and again and again because it’s supposed to, because it has to. The TVA makes sure of it.”

     “Where is she?” Loki demanded again, pacing the floor. “And where is Sigyn?”

     “Now why don’t you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?” Mobius asked, ignoring his questions.

     “I don’t believe you,” Loki said again.

     “Do you enjoy killing?” Mobius continued questioning him, yelling now too.

      “I’ll kill you,” Loki threatened. “I’ll kill both of you.”

      “What, like you did your mother?” Mobius questioned.

       That was the last straw. Loki grabbed his chair and hurled it at Mobius, who ducked out of the way with a grunt, and the chair flew through the screen, still on Frigga’s unmoving body, the particles separating as it passed through and coming back together again. Fenrir stood now too, ready to intervene if necessary, putting one hand on the baton secured around his waist, watching his father carefully.

     Loki barely spared him a glance before moving to attack Mobius, but before Fenrir could stop him, Mobius had already pulled out his Time Twister again and twisted it back, forcing Loki onto the ground with a grunt. He exhaled sharply at the sudden pain, eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched.

     “Sorry, the Time Twister just loops you, not the furniture,” Mobius apologized, slipping the device back into his jacket pocket. “You weren’t born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be. All so that others can achieve better versions of themselves.” He rewinded the video back to the Battle of New York, to the Avengers, standing in a defensive circle, Fenrir’s mother and friends included, bruised and bloody, but ready for battle as Loki's army, the Chitauri, screeched all around them.

      Loki shook his head, looking away, not willing to believe what Mobius was telling him. Mobius paused the screen on the shot of all the Avengers together, and walked over to Loki, holding out his hand for him to take.

      Loki continued to stare at the floor. “What is this place?” He looked up at Mobius, who was still offering him his hand.

     “Come on,” Mobius said. Loki hesitated for a moment, before slowly getting to his feet and accepting Mobius’ hand, allowing him to pull him up, just as the doors to the Time Theater opened behind them, and Hunter B-15 stepped inside, descending the stairs towards them.

     “What are you doing?” she demanded, as the doors closed behind her again.

     “My job,” Mobius responded indignantly. “Is it yours to interrupt?”

     “We have a situation,” B-15 informed him severely.

     Mobius sighed. “There’s always a situation.” He pointed at Loki. “Don’t go anywhere.” He started to follow B-15 out the door. “It was just getting good. Spirited.” He continued up the stairs, letting out another sigh, and paused at the top, looking back at Fenrir. “And you stay here too. Keep an eye on him. Maybe catch up a little.”

     And with that, he was gone, leaving Fenrir alone with his father that he hadn’t seen in years. The two men stared at each other for a moment, neither one knowing exactly what to say to the other. “You can’t keep me in here,” Loki said after a moment.

     “Actually, that’s my entire job,” Fenrir responded. “And even if you get past me, you still won’t make it very far before someone else catches you.”

     Loki chuckled. “You underestimate me.”

    “On the contrary,” Fenrir replied, then noticed his father was holding something in his hand. “What’s that?”

     “Oh, this?” he asked, holding up a Time Twister, and Fenrir realized he must have stolen it from Mobius. He grinned. “My escape.”

    Fenrir’s eyes widened. He tried to reach for the little device, but Loki was faster, and in one smooth motion,  he grabbed Fenrir’s wrist and twisted him around, kicking him in the back and sending him tumbling to the floor. Fenrir recovered quickly, spinning around to face his father, but by then, it was too late.

     Loki gave him a wave, smirking triumphantly, as he twisted the knob on the device. “No, wait!” Fenrir cried, jumping to his feet, hand extended to grab the Time Twister as he charged forward, but he couldn’t move fast enough, and Loki vanished, teleporting off to somewhere within the TVA. “Shit.”

     Mobius re-entered a few moments later, having finished his conversation with B-15, which had no doubt been about the elusive Variant they were still struggling to catch. Fenrir looked up at him as he entered, still standing in the spot Loki had disappeared from.

    “Okay, Loki, I think we can finish up tomorrow and just pick it…” Mobius trailed off as he noticed it was only Fenrir in the room.

     The older man looked around the room for a moment, eyes searching every part of the room. “Where’s Loki?”

     “Check your pockets,” Fenrir responded, and realizing what he meant, Mobius dug his hands into his jacket pockets, and sure enough, his Time Twister was gone. He threw his head back with a sigh.

     “Mischievous scamp,” he murmured.

     “I tried to stop him,” Fenrir said, walking over to his mentor. “But I didn’t realize he had the Time Twister until it was too late. He outwitted me. My own father.”

      Mobius put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it happens to the best of us, kid. Hell, it just happened to me, too. But don’t worry, he won’t get very far.” He looked back towards the door. “He’s got nowhere to run.” He gave Fenrir’s shoulder a pat. “Now, I’m gonna go look for him. And before you try to come with me, I want you to stay here, just in case he comes back.” He started to back away towards the doors, and pointed a finger at him in a warning. “I mean it, Fenrir. Don’t move.”

    “What makes you think I would?” Fenrir asked with a mischievous smirk, and Mobius glared at him. “Alright, alright, I won’t, I swear.”

    Mobius nodded. “Good.” He disappeared back out into the hallway to go search for Loki with B-15, who was waiting for him, and several other guards, and Fenrir went to lean against one of the bright orange posts that decorated the room, arms crossed, staring at the image of the Avengers on screen.

    He hadn’t been looking at it for more than a few minutes before he heard a soft warping sound behind, followed by a grunt, and he turned to see Loki on the floor again, holding the Tesseract in one hand. His father sighed at the fact that he had been teleported back to the floor, and, panting, tossed the Time Twister back up onto the table.

   “That was fast,” Fenrir remarked.

   “Shut up,” Loki grumbled, before grabbing the table and pushing himself back up to his feet, grunting with effort. Still breathing heavily after so much exertion, he moved around the table, glancing down at the holoprojector controls, then up at the screen, sinking down into the chair formerly occupied by Mobius.

     “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Fenrir warned, as his father reached for the device. “You won’t like what you see.”

    Loki glanced up at him. “And I’m supposed to trust the word of Mobius’ pet?” he scoffed. “What could you possibly know about me?”

    “Enough,” Fenrir responded with a shrug. “More than you in some ways, I bet. But if you don’t believe me, see for yourself.” He gestured to the screen, knowing that Loki wasn’t going to listen to him. He could be just as stubborn as Thor sometimes.

    “I will,” Loki replied tartly, before looking back down at the device and carefully pressing one of the buttons, fast-forwarding the video until it was on the image of Frigga’s dead body again, and he let it keep running from there.

     Fenrir could see the pain in Loki’s eyes as he stared at his dead mother, at the realization that it was real, that it was his doing. His breath trembled slightly, and unshed tears began to twinkle in his eyes.

     After a moment, his father pressed the fast-forward button again, skipping past his second fake death, the one that had destroyed Fenrir’s mother even more than the first, all the way to when he and Thor had found Odin on Earth, only moments before the old king’s death.

    “I love you, my sons,” Odin said, addressing both princes, both biological and adopted. The Loki in the video looked up at Odin, mournful surprise written on his face. “Remember this place. Home.”

     Loki, the one watching the video, breathed deeply, eyes sparking with tears. On the screen, Odin was sitting with both of his sons, staring out at the sea and sky beyond, until he disappeared into golden mist, leaving the two brothers alone. They both stood and followed the mist as it scattered away, as if blown by a gentle, mythical breeze.

     Now, Fenrir’s father could barely hold back tears. His shoulders shook, and his bottom lip was curled up tight as he tried to hold himself together. Fenrir felt a stab of pity, seeing him like this, and knowing the video was only going to get worse from here.

    “Loki, I thought the world of you,” Thor, his hair short and dressed in the battle armor bestowed upon him on Sakaar, said to his brother as they stood together in the elevator. Loki, who had been looking down at the table, trying to collect himself, looked up at this. “I thought we were gonna fight side by side forever.”

    Again the scene changed, to Loki, Thor, and Valkyrie standing together to face Hela, as the rumbles of Surtur’s emergence, the beginning of Ragnarok, could be heard overhead. Fenrir remembered that moment, watching as his father and uncle faced their sister, watching from inside the Sakaarian ship that had come to save everyone, while his mother and her friends fought to protect them from Hela’s undead army. It was the beginning of the end of his reality.

    The scene shifted once again, to Thor and Loki, alone on the ship, having successfully defeated Hela and escaped the destruction of Asgard. “You know, maybe you’re not so bad after all, brother,” Thor remarked.

    “Maybe not,” Loki agreed with a grin.

    “Thank you,” Thor responded, and the Loki watching smiled sadly. “If you were here, I might even give you a hug.” Loki chuckled.

     “I’m here,” the Loki onscreen assured his brother.

     “I love you.” Loki straightened slightly as Fenrir’s mother, Sigyn, came onto the screen as the scene changed another time, wearing her Valkyrie suit, wrapped in Loki’s arms. She cupped his face in her hands, gently caressing his cheek. “I always have.”

     Fenrir felt a familiar lump forming in his throat, and he looked over at his father to see that he was shaking violently now, as he struggled even harder to hold back the sobs wracking his body at the sight of the woman he loved, in his arms, finally together, no controlling father, no divisions, no mind-control, no secrets, no lies. If only it could have lasted longer.

     Loki changed the scene again, to the moment Fenrir dreaded most. The end of everything. There Loki stood, covered in soot and grim and bloody from battle, and the ominous rumbling of the now-damaged ship could be heard in the background. He stared at the ground, breathing heavily, contemplating what he was about to do next.

     Then he sprang forward, drawing his dagger to attack Thanos, but the Mad Titan caught his blade with the power of the Space Stone on his gauntlet. The lump in Fenrir’s throat grew harder, and he felt telltale tears begin to prick at his eyes. No matter how many times he had watched this moment, it never got any easier to watch.

    Thanos tilted his head to study Loki for a moment, a dangerous smirk forming on his ugly face, and Fenrir glanced over to see Loki’s face fall into a grim frown as he realized what was happening to him.

    “Undying?” Thanos asked, referencing Loki’s pledge of undying fidelity only a few moments prior. Fenrir’s father leaned forward as he watched the scene, unable to look away, as Fenrir was. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

     Now Loki stood, walking closer to the scene as he watched Thanos choke his future self. Fenrir wanted to look away, he had seen this more times than he had ever wanted to, but he couldn’t. Sigyn’s screams could be heard from offscreen as Loki struggled in Thanos’ strong grasp, to no avail. Fenrir swallowed, hard, and bit his lip as he tried to prevent the tears threatening to stream down his face.

     Straining to speak now, as Thanos cut off his air flow, his eyes bloodshot and face turning a purplish shade of blue, the Loki onscreen gasped, “You…will never be…a god.”

    There was the sound of bones cracking, and now Fenrir did look away, taking a moment to compose himself before looking back at the screen. Loki gasped, horrified, and looked away, breathing heavily.

     “NOOO!!!” Sigyn screamed hysterically, a sound that tore at Fenrir’s heart, and when the scene changed again, to only a few moments later, she was draped over Loki’s body, clutching him tightly as she was attacked by a fit of vicious sobs. Thor kneeled beside her, one hand, fist curled, resting on his dead brother’s body, while the other was wrapped around Sigyn, holding her close.

     There was a warbling sound as the ship began to overload, having been further damaged by the Power Stone, and Loki looked up again, just as the ship exploded. Loki stared at the screen for several long moments, even as the film reached its end, and the screen displayed the words “END OF FILE”.

      “I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Fenrir said, voice breaking slightly. He raised a hand to wipe away the single tear that had managed to escape down his cheek.

      Loki turned to look at him, sharp, albeit watery, green eyes scrutinizing him. “Who are you?”

      “I think you already know the answer to that,” Fenrir responded flatly.

      Loki shook his head. “No. No, it can’t be possible. My son is dead.”

      “In your reality, on the Sacred Timeline, yes,” Fenrir said. “But not in mine. I’m Fenrir Lokison…” He paused for a few seconds for dramatic effect, allowing the shocked silence to drag out, before finishing, “Your son.”

      Loki scoffed, looking back at the screen, and then that scoff became laughter, mad laughter, one of denial and acceptance and pain all at once, and just then, B-15 walked back in.

     “What’s so funny?” she asked.

     Loki sniffed, eyes not leaving the screen. “Glorious purpose.” Loki shook his head, then turned to face the hunter. He began to approach her, and there was a hostile edge to his movements.

     “Bee,” Fenrir warned, starting to move towards them as well.

    “I got it,” she responded. As soon as he was close enough, Loki threw a punch at her, and she grabbed it, both of them grunting with effort. “Let me take care of this, kid.” She punched Loki in the chest and twisted his arm, and he fell back onto his knees with a pained groan, still locked in B-15’s iron grip.

     She twisted his arm again, forcing it behind his back, and slammed him into the table. She held him there for several moments, giving Loki enough time to grab the Time Twister again. “Uh, Bee-” Fenrir started to say, but she cut him off.

     “I got it, Fenrir,” she said again, more severely, just as Loki slipped out from under her and grabbed her own arm, pulling it behind her. “Okay, now I might need a little help.”

     “Thought so,” Fenrir remarked, as his father unlocked the collar secured around his neck and ripped it off, before throwing it around B-15’s neck, and it automatically wrapped itself around and tightened, beeping once it was secure.

    “Anytime now, Fenrir!” she exclaimed.

    “On it,” Fenrir replied, just as Loki let B-15 go, and when she tried to retaliate with another punch, Loki activated the Time Twister and she vanished.

    “B-15!” Fenrir cried, now close enough to his father to attack. He hurled a fist at him, but again, Loki caught it. But this time, Fenrir was ready for it. He kicked Loki in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards, grunting with surprise.

         He threw another punch, and it landed on Loki’s jaw with a crack. Loki recovered quickly, and again caught his next punch, twisting his arm behind his back like he had done with B-15, before slamming his head into the hard metal surface of the table, and Fenrir fell to the floor, groaning. He was Asgardian, so he could take a hit like that and eventually be fine, but in the moment, it hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure he had even blacked out for a second. “Stay down, boy,” Loki said, walking away.

     As he lay there on the floor, Loki, panting, tossed his head sharply to get the hair out of his face, and studied the Time Twister, moving around to stand with his back to Fenrir. He twirled his finger around on the little device, twisting it, and B-15 appeared again, closer to the door this time, arms spread out wide as she stumbled towards them, disoriented, before disappearing again as Loki continued to twist the device, back in the opposite direction.

    He titled his head curiously, then swirled his finger back the other way, and B-15 warped back once again, stumbling forwards, although less wildly this time. “Stop…” Loki twisted the Time Twister again, and again she vanished. He paused for a moment, then twisted it again, and B-15 came stumbling back. “It.” And then again. “Stop it!” And again. “St…” And again. Stop it…” And again. “It..” And again. “Stop it…” Loki kept going, aggressively twisting back and forth, and B-15 kept warping in and out, more quickly now as Loki furiously spun the Time Twister. “Stop…I…St…Sto…St…”

     B-15 was flashing around the room so fast that she could no longer speak, or even move, until Loki finally stopped, staring at the spot the hunter had just been in before tossing the Time Twister back onto the table. Fenrir, who had still been lying on the floor, giving himself a moment to recover, sat up slowly, moaning at the fierce throbbing in his head, and touched the spot where his head had hit the table, gasping slightly at the sudden sharp stab of pain, and brought his fingers down to see they were now stained with blood. He winced, wiping the blood off on his pants, the crimson liquid disappearing into the dark fabric of his uniform.

    Loki grabbed the Tesseract from off the table, and made his way over to sit down on the steps a few feet away from Fenrir with a sigh, setting the glowing cube down next to him and putting his head in his hands. Fenrir glanced up at him, ignoring the blood now trickling down his brow.

     “What?” Loki demanded through his hands, having noticed the young man’s eyes on him, his tone irritated.

     “Nothing,” Fenrir lied. He looked up as the doors opened once again, and Mobius walked in. Loki didn’t look up, even as the door closed.

     “Loki?” Mobius asked carefully. He approached him slowly, armed with an orange-tipped pruning stick in one hand. “Nowhere left to run.” He glanced over at Fenrir. “You okay, Fenrir?”

      “Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded, accepting the hand Mobius offered to him and allowing him to pull him back up to his feet. His legs wobbled slightly against his will, and he put a hand to his head, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as it began to throb harder at the sudden movement.

     “I’d get that checked out,” Mobius said, patting him on the shoulder. “But we’ve got something to take care of first.” He turned back to Loki, who had removed his hands from his face, and was now sitting with his arms resting on his legs, hands cupped together, fingers interlaced.

     “I can’t go back, can I?” he asked, looking up at Mobius and Fenrir. “Back to my timeline.” Mobius didn’t respond, only tilted his head to the side, a pitying look on his face. For a moment, none of the men spoke.

    Loki glanced back down again, thinking, before shifting his gaze back to them. “I don’t enjoy hurting people,” he admitted.

     “Tell that to the bloody open wound on my forehead,” Fenrir scoffed, and Mobius shushed him. “What? I didn’t ask him to slam my head into the table.” Mobius just stared at him, and he raised his hands innocently. “Alright, alright, shutting up now.”

      Mobius gave him one last warning glare, before turning his attention back to Loki, who looked like he was struggling with the confession he was making.

      “I…” Loki sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to.”

      “Okay, explain that to me,” Mobius murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

      “Because it’s part of the illusion,” Loki said. “It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.” He was calling back to his accusations of the TVA, Fenrir realized, except now, he was applying them to himself, even gesturing to himself as he spoke the words. Talk about self-realization.

     “A desperate attempt at control,” Mobius finished. “You do know yourself.” He slowly started to approach the God of Mischief, motioned for Fenrir to stay where he was.

      “A villain,” Loki remarked with another sigh.

      “That’s not how I see it,” Mobius responded, shaking his head. He pointed back at Fenrir. “That’s not how either of us see it.”

     Loki didn’t say anything, instead reaching down to grab the Tesseract and held it up in front of himself, the cube emitting an otherworldly ringing sound as it was moved. “You try to use that?” Mobius asked him.

     “Oh, several times,” Loki admitted. He studied it for a moment, moving it around in his hand, before returning his gaze to Mobius. “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here.” He slammed the Tesseract between his palms and scoffed, then casually tossed the cube and caught it with ease. “The TVA is formidable.” He set the cube down again.

     “That’s my best experience,” Mobius agreed. “Listen, I can’t offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better.” Intrigued, Loki pushed himself up to his feet and began to walk over, as Mobius continued, “A fugitive Variant’s been killing our Minutemen.”

     “And they always escape before we can catch them,” Fenrir added. “And trust me, we’ve tried.”

     “And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?” Loki asked.

      “That’s right,” Mobius said.

      “Why me?” Loki pressed.

      “The Variant we’re hunting is…” Mobius began, then paused for dramatic effect. “…you.”

       Loki raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

[taylor-swift-bracket]

Battle Of The Bridges: Round 4!

champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's f*cked in the head," they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

marjorie

The autumn chill that wakes me up

You loved the amber skies so much

Long limbs and frozen swims

You'd always go past where our feet could touch

And I complained the whole way there

The car ride back and up the stairs

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

Should've kept every grocery store receipt

'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

🌁Please reblog!🌁

[ronance4life42]

Heyy, how’re you doing? So I’ve been thinking (and because I love your thoughts) and I need to know your head-canons on ronance and elmax interactions together

hope you have a great day:))

Hey! I was looking through my inbox and realised I never answered this one…. (Sorry @her-midas-touch!!) 

I think max would get on well with Robin and el would get on well with Nancy. 

max and Robin would be troublemakers together, Robin would make mixtapes for her (a bit like s1 Jon and will) and max would try teach Robin how to skateboard. Once. Never again. Robin is NOT coordinated enough for it. Max and Robin would definitely band together to make fun of Steve. 

el missed out on a lot of girlhood, and discovering herself, meanwhile Nancy is also discovering herself as independent, she develops a bit of a different style and attitude. She could teach el how to paint her nails and give her lots of her old clothes, for el to do with them what she wants, but she could also teach el shooting and how to ace exams. 

together, Robin and Nancy would offer to “chaperone” el and max at the mall, to supervise them on the bus and make sure they got home safe, but really it’s a great excuse for ronance to go to the mall together. Robin and el make max and Nancy go on long walks. They complain, but really they like the quiet.

[thot-son-of-odin]

20 Questions For Writers

I’m taking @galaxythreads’ post as unofficial tagging because I want to do this lol

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

23!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

102,192

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Thor (unfortunately the hyperfixation has taken root)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. midas is king (and he holds me so tight)

2. a shrike to your sharp

3. be as you’ve always been

4. I am loved (I am loved)

5. our truth is burned from history (this is actually my favorite of all five, I’m glad it’s on here haha)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to, I haven’t really been recently since I’ve been busy (and lazy) but I wanna start doing it again.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This since the situation that Thor and Loki in does not get resolved lol,,,,,maybe I should write a sequel.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I actually thought most of mine ended happyish but I’m realizing the really happy ending is probably this one???

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not really? I’ve been getting some weird anonymous comments that aren’t hate??? They’re just odd. And I feel like they come from the same person too. I’m not bothered by it, I’m just,,,,,,confused????

9. Do you write smut?

Yes! I only have one smut fic so far but I want to write more!

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, I’m just not really interested in them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and hopefully that never happens

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! Blanket permission if anyone ever wants to, please just let me know!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes and I love doing it! It’s so much fun, plus you have another person to complain to when the fic isn’t going the way you want!

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Thor and Loki, but both platonically and romantically if that makes sense? I am a brodinsons fan before I am a thorki fan.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have too many, writing is hard :’(

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I like to think I have a good head for plotting and coming up with ideas

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Actually writing down what I have planned. People should look thru my idea list and write some of the fics I’ve thought of lol

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Think it can be good in small quantities if you’re simply using google translate but if you’re trying to write a lot in that language, you should probably either already know it or ask for help from someone who does. As a reader tho, it’s not entirely helpful unless there’s a translation also given — I think it takes you out of the fic if you have to look it up

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor who

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Hmm I feel like my fav fic shifts from week to week. Right now it’s mother make me a big gray cloud because it’s the longest I’ve written and it’s also finished!! So super excited about it!

Tagging @babygirlthor, @worstloki, @thorarms, @nostalgia-tblr, @shinysoroka, @thortwenty151, @colifower, and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

[midasfm]

✩　midasmusic.com/artists/hana

001: profile.

legal name: ryu hana age: 22 training period: 3 years company: midas music group & position: girl code’s rapper skeleton key: gc4 career focus: fashion, hosting + variety, choreography

002: background.

born in suwon, ryu hana grew up with a pretty easy life. sure, there were issues (like her mother, ryu eunkyung, being a workaholic and her father apparently running off from her and her mom once eunkyung was pregnant), but overall she couldn’t complain too much.

eunkyung’s coworkers immediately noted the similarities between her and hana. while she was a hardworking leading employee at a tech start-up, hana took up her interest in technology. as soon as she received her first laptop in middle school, hana would busy herself by coding in java and python to make small scripts for browsers, as well as becoming invested in league of leagues and apex. her mother didn’t mind that she wasn’t a very social child, as she received high grades in every subject; one was more important than the other, of course.

originally, singing and dancing was not her passion. but after one of her teachers brought up how hana ‘didn’t go out of her way to speak to other students’ and ‘kept to herself during class’ to eunkyung, she decided that it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for her to have a few extracurriculars.

with work constantly ramping up with new projects and hana having to stay with a sitter often, eunkyung gave her the task to pick at least one club or hobby she wouldn’t mind doing after school (even better if it were something physical!) and with that, she decided to give hip hop dance lessons a try.

to hana’s own surprise, she ended up genuinely enjoying it. while her older hobbies were still something she enjoyed, she found a new love within dancing.

it was 2017 when she received a business card from a midas scout after her dance trope did a public performance in the streets of hongdae, hana didn’t think too much about it at first. she wasn’t a huge fan of k-pop, and becoming an idol wasn’t something that she had a dream for. but after scrolling through midas’ site and finding more information on them, she decided that she’d rather try and find out she hated it than to not try at all. eunkyung was also supportive of her, though hana wonders if this was another case of her mother still wanting her to have something to do while she was at work for long hours at a time.

the first problem is that when you want to be an idol without much knowledge about the industry, you end up getting your ass handed to you at some point. this was a lesson hana learned over, and over, and over again during the training period for midas’ new girl group.

one issue was that because she wasn’t the best at making friends on her own, she felt a bit ostracized from the other 23 trainees. not only had some of them been training for long periods of their lives, some of them even directly looked down on her for ‘not taking it as seriously’ or not having the skill sets they had. this even bled into her interactions with some of the trainers who thought she wasn’t showing potential as a team player.

if she wasn’t being criticized for that, it was over her talent. while she showed good potential as a rapper during lessons and had previous dancing experience, the biggest issue was that there wasn’t much emotion within her singing and her rapping could be more refined. hana felt exhausted, and knew she was only skating by as more and more girls got dropped from the training period (girls who were more talented than her, others felt.) there’s something uncomfortable being one of the last ones to get called on to stay, and other girls crying and hugging each other over their close friends getting eliminated.

you know the reaction wouldnt be the same if it were you.

the final evaluation had finally come. even though she knew she could step out at any point like she said, a fire had lit itself under hana during the last few evaluations, much less now. she knew she was the one most likely to get knocked out if she didn’t push herself hard enough. so she started to interact with the other girls more, managing to smile and laugh with some of them (even after their harsh words.) if she couldn’t change everyone’s mind on her, she could at least push harder to try to change some people’s thoughts. she spent countless nights in the practice rooms trying to let the emotion flow out of her voice and making sure her raps were as perfect as they could be.

and the last name finally called at the end of the evaluation… ryu hana. she could’ve fell to her knees and cried right then and there, honestly. (maybe she did, who knows.)

+

the second problem when you want to be an idol without much knowledge about the industry is that even when you’ve made it, it’s never really over.

it’s not that hana thought all of this would be a walk in the park, but even after having made it through the rigorous training process, she was still dealing with doubts about herself. was she really worthy of debuting after beating out most of the other girls? with girl code’s debut being a massive success though, it started to feel like the answer to that question was a resounding “yes.”

and then the controversy happened.

while most of the hate wasn’t necessarily geared towards hana, that doesn’t mean she was safe from netizen’s dismissive comments either. in particular, she saw comments related to her being a ‘robot’ on stage and the ‘talent hole’ within the group; no matter how she tries to put herself out there, she couldn’t escape the fact that people could tell she lacked feeling in what she did. being online was once a paradise for her, but it quickly started to become a prison that she couldn’t bear to look away from for too long. once the cameras turn off and the girls have time without schedules, hana started to revert back into her old self and stay in her room for the longest and play her favorite games. it’s not that she wants to, yet it feels necessary. but she needs something to take her mind off of the fact that people are constantly watching her, constantly waiting to see her mess up and call her out for ruining the group in some way, and it wasn’t helped by her need to scroll and scroll and scroll and scroll—

though, with the following successes of their next releases (as well as taking a short break from posting on her socials), hana has found herself able to lean onto her fellow members for support and in return, she knows she’ll try to return the favor. regardless of what await them outside, hana knows girl code will always be each other’s biggest supporters.

003: image.

depending on when they first see her, an audience member’s first thoughts on hana may be completely different.

as girl code’s bold and strong rapper, she glides over a beat while simultaneously not missing a step. while she’s not the face of the group or the leader, hana is able to be a secondary support for the other members when they’re on stage. someone they can look over to and find confidence glancing back at them momentarily. as girl code’s variety happy virus, hana almost feels like the fake-maknae of the group. she’s not bouncing around excitedly, but she does try to lighten the mood either alone with her members or during variety content by making silly comments in order to get others to smile or laugh. overall, she’s the member that gets looked over the most, but her small fanbase feels that she helps balance girl code and proves they’re not all sharp edges.

despite her attempts to appear as cheerful and friendly, there are rumors that hana isn’t as impressive as she seems. during girl code’s hate train, ex-trainees made sure to take pot-shots at her as well in their testimonies; stating how she thought she was ‘better than everyone else’, ‘was one of the weaker trainees overall’, and ‘didn’t work as hard as others who got kicked’ netizens began to wonder if she was as deserving of her spot as well.

while hana is not faking her on-camera personality, she was guided by midas management to further take on hosting and variety roles that would help endear her to fans better after the hate comments. there’s still plenty of people who find her fake and lazy though, especially after being pushed for these roles. she often feels drained after recording episodes for hours in advance and would rather retreat to her room. instead of complaining, she pushes herself back up and gets back to work as girl code’s ryu hana.

[taylor-swift-bracket]

🎇Please reblog!🎇

Comment your favorite bridges!

Notable Bridges

(Under the cut)

evermore

champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's f*cked in the head," they said

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

ivy

So yeah, it's a fire

It's a violent blaze in the dark

And you started it

You started it

So yeah, it's a war

It's the fiercest fight of my life

And you started it

You started it

tolerate it

While you were out buildin' other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm beggin' for footnotes in the story of your life

Drawin' hearts in the byline

Always takin' up too much space or time

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I

marjorie

The autumn chill that wakes me up

You loved the amber skies so much

Long limbs and frozen swims

You'd always go past where our feet could touch

And I complained the whole way there

The car ride back and up the stairs

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

Should've kept every grocery store receipt

'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

right where you left me

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Breakups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still twenty-three inside her fantasy

And you're sitting in front of me

Midnights

Hits Different

I find the artifacts, cried over a hat

Cursed the space that I needed

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense

Why the wound is still bleedin'

You were the one that I loved

Don't need another metaphor, it's simple enough

A wrinkle in time like the crease by your eyes

This is why they shouldn't kill off the main guy

Dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once believed in me

And I felt you and I held you for a while

Bet I could still melt your world

Argumentative, antithetical dream girl

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

God rest my soul

I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close

Stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go

I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close

I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

You’re Losing Me

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

You’re On Your Own Kid

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

Anti-Hero

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from Hell"

[m1d-45]

hello again my far love/p

there's something I feel like I need to explain?? I have a Tumblr account but I prefer to be anonymous for asks and such, I just prefer it bc I get shy(and a little paranoid that people can see me yk, I like to be a fly on the wall) I've also just began using 🍄 to ask in blogs and I've gotten attached

I've been following and liking your content before I asked yk and I'm sure if I gave you the name I go by online you'd know what my account is lmao, tbh at this rate I don't think I mind, you and teddy are cool people and I do want to talk more/play genshin with u all

I just felt like I needed to clear that up and when I said that I should create a blog I mean like, a writing blog where I post about things and such, ofc If I end up doing this I would let you know. my only issue with that is motivation and inspiration

speaking about that tho, your 1k special

- how 'insert character' felt when they became your vessels

- letters (I've seen this one before)

- windtrace/events with the creator

I think that's all the ideas I got rn, you could always do a prompt based one where it's like "can I have a latte with strawberry and chocolate with diluc" and latte = fluff, strawberry = SAGAU and chocolate = date hcs

- 🍄 (never take precalc if you're bad at math, it's sucks and I hate it. I have a test on Thursday 😭) (I feel like playing genshin with y'all would be so fun tho)

[i was gonna make a joke here about dramatically receiving a letter, then realized that you know what, rp is not something i want on my genshin impact fanfiction blog]

i 100% get the like fear of being Perceived but like…. in the gentlest way possible, i feel like a character in a shakespeare play, talking about intense worldbuilding with my vaguely queercoded best friend as we profess to be knights by each other’s side until the very end, no matter how bitter, for the audience to hear (it’s foreshadowing for how we die together on the battlefield)

(hello to everybody that isn’t 🍄 anon or teddy anon, how are y’all tonight)

uhh re: creating a writing blog, insert link to that post i made abt my tips for blog things, referencing point numbers one and seven.

also i like the letter one. that’s a good idea. i will consider it. should probably sort this out prior to 1k but ehhhhh

(i would love to play genshin with you i am both ar 58 and so bored-)

[aroaceleovaldez]

Okay these tags on this post reminded me of a HoO/TOA thing that I complain about a lot but I don’t think i’ve ever elaborated on here:

[Image ID: Tags from @fr0zenpepsi​ reading - “#and jason fUCKING DIES before he even get fixed like #you dont know how excited i was when the diorama thing was mentioned like #make him artistic too!! make him be into architecture too! #and he plays lacrosse???? #like his character has sooo much potential yet hes just a boring white guy :< #thats prolly why his death is pretty lame #it meant a lot to the plot but like do we even know who we lost?? #more than half of the fandom doesnt even like him bc hes just so plain :/ #also hazel is a queen and i love her shes literally the best” /end ID.]

One of the big issues I take with both HoO and TOA is that literally every death in both series feels cheap because death has lost consequence. For the majority of HoO it’s at least somewhat still of a risk, but even things like Tartarus feel extremely lackluster when we actually encounter them - Tartarus especially after we saw how much it affected Nico, but then Percy and Annabeth’s plot armor kind of negates all of the threat and it feels like they don’t actually experience much more than their usual threats down there or that it has any lasting effect on them. And after Leo’s “death” we’re basically solidified into “Death has no consequence” because we just finished a series with at least SIX INSTANCES of major or minor protagonist-aligned characters notably directly cheating or miraculously avoiding death (Jason, Hazel, Gwen, Frank, Jason again, Leo), not including also miscellaneous minor antagonists. Which is aggravating because you can make a “Hey, these characters can’t die!” plot work, especially if that’s the root problem they’re trying to solve! It does work in TLH and SoN! And we’ve even seen it before in Battle of the Labyrinth when Percy fights his half-brother!

But HoO basically nullifies all consequence the characters face from MoA onwards and post-BoO “death” carries no weight, because by this point we have so many excuses to get around it or avoid it or come back from it that who cares! And this continues to be a thing post-TOA! Even just in the plot summary of Chalice Of The Gods we’re introduced to YET ANOTHER “Cheat death!” item! And I’d bet we’re gonna get one in TSATS too cause we’re almost guaranteed to see Damasen again, and the like one singular myth that exists referencing Damasen also specifically mentions an herb called “the flower of Zeus” that can revive things from the dead.

And it’s extra annoying because in TOA we keep getting character deaths shoved in our faces and told we should care about them, but either they’re characters we have little to no emotional connection to (such as, like, All Of Camp Jupiter in Tyrant’s Tomb when the camp is threatened and we’re told we should care, but we’ve barely seen the camp at all besides beginning of Son of Neptune and beginning of Mark of Athena, and the only living characters we get to actually see in Camp Jupiter from before TOA are Gwen, Dakota, Don the Faun, and our HoO protagonists.)

And Jason’s death is particularly annoying because a.) He’s essentially cheated death twice already [Piper bringing him back from either death or near-death when he accidentally witnessed Hera’s true form, and then his whole spear injury that was slowly killing him but was healed with [checks notes] the power of friendship], and b.) the scene DIRECTLY PARALLELS HIS FIGHT WITH MIDAS. Which, you know, he WON. VERY EASILY. And you can’t even argue “oh but this time Piper and Apollo were right there so he couldn’t have done the same thing!” because PIPER AND LEO WERE THERE WITH MIDAS. Heck, so was Lit! Who also survives and comes back in TOA! So not only is there no excuse for Jason to have not somehow miraculously avoided death (alongside every other TOA character, basically), but he SHOULDN’T HAVE DIED IN THE FIRST PLACE because THAT’S NOT A FIGHT HE SHOULD HAVE LOST! Him losing that fight is directly contrary to what we know about his character! And “he shouldn’t have lost that fight and died” doesn’t feel tragic here, it’s just aggravating! It’s just bad writing! And there’s no way around it because nobody cares about characters dying by that point in the series anyways because it doesn’t mean anything! We’ve had too much random death fodder in HoO (like the Hunters) directly alongside characters experiencing little to no consequence when they should from their experiences (Percy & Annabeth in Tartarus, literally every character nearly dying, etc.). The only characters we do see experience any kind of lasting consequences from near-death experiences are Hazel having blackouts in Son of Neptune (which are magically erased by Mark of Athena) and Nico being heavily implied to be permanently physically disabled after Tartarus (which is half-ignored when not plot relevant in TOA and completely ignored in the short story Un Natale Mezzosangue, which gives me reason to suspect it will also be ignored in TSATS). Not to mention Frank’s curse is also randomly erased in Tyrant’s Tomb, which is extra stupid because by following the logic of that scene his curse should have been lost back in Son of Neptune when he freed Thanatos, because he was using his curse for the same exact reasons with the same exact mindset. He literally did his character arc twice. Whatever.

HoO and TOA are just such a mess writing-wise of Rick trying to haphazardly incorporate as many myths as he can with zero attempts at cohesiveness that it doesn’t make any sense (I invite you all to read just the Team Statue chapters of BoO and take a moment to process how absolutely nonsensical it is) and he fails to consider the consequences of including certain myths, both in terms of how their aspects will impact the larger plot and also the historical context behind those myths and if how they’re being applied is offensive.

TL:DR: Jason’s death is stupid from literally every angle and HoO and TOA have a problem with literally any kind of narrative consequence.

[literaila]

how to be 

spencer reid x reader 

abc’s masterlist. 

summary: spencer doesn’t like texting. he doesn’t like calling. but he might just tolerate it when it comes to you. 

warnings: touch of foreshadowing, fluff, anxiety, etc. 

a/n: dual pov? single pov? to be determined. 

*

i can't believe you recommended this to me. 

spencer doesn't have to wait long to hear from you again. 

when the unknown number shows up on his phone--late at night, he's up, pretending to go to bed--he's almost surprised. 

and then again, not. 

he knows exactly who it is before he has the chance to even think about it. 

he'd like to deny any knowledge of worrying about giving you his number. he'd like to say that he's been calm and collected for the last day. that no possible concerns were invading his mind like a steady prick of a needle. 

he'd really like to. 

but then again, he seems to be diseased. 

and this time, he didn't have to accidentally run into you, he didn't have to follow you at work or bother you at home. 

it's a significant change that spencer would prefer not to dwell on. 

do you like it? 

he feels only slightly less awkward when he doesn't have to stare at your face and pretend to be invested in anything but the strange beating of his heart. 

how to explain to you that he's just sick. or crazy. or both. 

is she going to die? 

spencer only slightly smiles, face illuminated by the screen of his phone. 

it's only been a day since he gave it to you. 

only a day since he's seen you.

your smile. 

no spoilers, he says. 

you send him a crying emoji back. 

spencer tries not to laugh. he pretends to know what that means. 

he'd like to imagine you. at home, probably wrapped in a blanket on the couch. he'd like to imagine your brother walking in the room, asking you what you're smiling at. 

because he just hopes that you're smiling. 

or he knows. intuition is a funny thing. 

and technically, he continues, i didn't recommend it. 

you wanted to borrow it. 

there's a brief pause. spencer thinks you might have fallen asleep. 

and then directly after that, he's worried about you being awake in the first place. just like him. 

he would really like to bond over something else than the nightmares he can't seem to shake. 

he's not going to complain though. your attention is a glance at midas' touch. a shining gem in this dark cave that is college. 

liar liar, you type back. 

you like pinocchio. 

spencer likes you. 

he's not willing to admit that quite yet. 

*

you don't text him again for another day. 

and then: i would like to file a complaint. 

he's sitting at his desk when he gets it. pretending to write down data, avoiding all the problems that come with being in a lab all day. 

pretending that there's not a letter sitting right next to him, waiting to be answered. 

that there's no guilt directly on his chest, and there's really nothing wrong. 

it would seem that denial is his chosen coping mechanism. 

he'd like to pretend that he doesn't know anything about psychology. or what that really means. 

he knows nothing. 

see human resources. 

he knows that you're working today. he wonders if it's a slow night. what might happen if he showed up. 

what kind of smile you might give him. 

cruel, spencer, you say, i'm halfway through. 

what page? he asks. 

134.

he imagines you--he does that a lot it would seem--leaning against a countertop. taking in the artwork, the words with an ear keened towards the door. 

you're more than halfway.

there are 206 pages. spencer knows this. 

is it worth it to keep reading? 

spencer would like to tell you that if you don't keep reading he's just going to show up at your apartment again. that he's going to resort to extreme methods of getting your attention. 

just keep talking to me, he wants to say. he doesn't even like texting. 

yes. 

he hopes that it's enough to keep you there. 

*

finally, you call for the first time. just like you said you would. 

it's late at night, dark outside, and spencer's sitting on his couch, patiently awaiting your verdict. 

he was shocked when he heard his ringtone. 

the first thing you say: "when should i give this back to you?" 

it's another day, another six thousand thoughts of you. 

spencer has been keeping his phone on him at all times. he made sure to set it to vibrate when he was at school. 

earlier, when he jumped anytime he got a notification, he caught someone staring at him with a strange look on their face. 

he left about ten minutes later, preferring not to dwell on that embarrassment. 

he doesn't dare open any messages from you when he was around anyone else. 

but within the confines of his apartment, the books that know him inside out, and the voices that like to follow him home--he's quick to get his hands on his phone. 

doesn't let the statistic about bacteria on a single cell phone enter his brain. 

"you finished it," he says, slightly relieved that he can speak at all. "did you like the ending?"

that's not an answer, spencer notes. he would like to draw this out as long as he can. 

it only takes a minute for you to answer, for spencer to overthink every decision he's ever made. 

he doesn't really want the book back. 

"you were right," he can hear your smile. "it was worth it."

spencer doesn't have time to think before you continue. "how are you?" you ask him and it feels like a loaded question. 

"just reading." 

"that's not what i asked." 

"i'm..." going crazy. so relieved you called me. "okay." 

it sounds like a question. spencer wishes he had studied up on how to have normal conversations. 

but you don't seem to mind. "you're up late." 

spencer slightly smiles, shifting the phone to his other ear. "so are you." 

he feels your laugh against his skin. feels your inhales and exhales. 

"how are you?" he asks, feeling ridiculous, taking a moment to get the question out. 

you sigh into the receiver, and he feels his heart turn to gold. 

spencer imagines how your skin would feel against his. "i'm tired," you whisper, but it doesn't sound like it did last time. 

maybe you're smiling.

"you should go to bed." 

spencer hears you shift around, wishes he could play the static on repeat for years. 

"i just called to tell you i finished it," you whisper as a tease. 

spencer stays quiet, waiting for more. 

"i'm free all day tomorrow. can i meet you somewhere to give it back?"

spencer makes a note to visit his cardiologist. 

"sure," he says and listens as you write down his address. as he hears his own voice telling you to stop by anytime. 

he can hear nothing but your voice so close to his ear.

he's sure it won't matter when you show up. if you show up at all. 

he won't be able to sleep tonight. 

*

"i finally get to see your apartment," you say as soon as spencer opens the door. 

it's noon. you're wearing a scarf. your voice sounds different in person. 

you're smiling at him and it's only then that spencer remembers that he hasn't seen you in a week. that the span of seven days is just enough to fade your image from his camera-like eyes. 

and still, you're exactly as beautiful. 

"hi," he says, clearing his throat. "come in." 

you walk right past him, never afraid of whatever he has lying beneath the surface. "it's only fair," you observe his bookshelves, tight-lipped. "you saw mine the first time we met." 

spencer runs a hand through his hair, trying to mess it up. "but you knew where it was." 

your eyes meet his. he feels desperate. 

"the infamous walk home." 

you turn again and tilt your head to read the titles of some more books. you haven't looked anywhere else. haven't even noticed the mess. 

spencer did try to clean it up. and then he fell victim to pacing around, instead, contemplating every possible conversation you might have. 

he hadn't guessed this one. 

"you have a lot of books," you tell him, letting a finger run across the spine of a geology book. "i haven't even heard most of these." 

"do you read a lot?" he asks, willing his voice to stay steady. 

you laugh, small. "nothing like this." 

and then you turn back to look at him--he's standing awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he stares at you. 

you smile at him. "here's your book back," you say, reaching into your bag. "thank you for trusting me with it." 

"you enjoyed it?" 

you nod. 

"no problem, then," he says, and he can't help but smile back at you. 

you sigh and look around finally, up at the ceiling, towards the door of his bedroom, then to his desk. "i'll be honest, this is not what i imagined." 

you move, go to sit on his couch. spencer follows. 

"what'd you imagine?" he tries to figure out if this feeling is going to go away. 

or if your smile is just branded in his mind. permanently.

"oh, ben has a bunch of posters on his walls," you smile. "girls, mostly. trash everywhere, clothes thrown across every surface." 

"your apartment is clean, though." 

you nod, eyes still flitting around. spencer watches your carotid pulse, watches you in amazement, watches you, thankful that you haven't looked back at him. 

that he doesn't have to look away. 

"that's mostly my doing. i guess i thought it'd be more like that. like goes with like, you know?" 

spencer catches that. his brow furrows. 

"you've read that?" 

you look at him. "what?" 

"'the role of representatives in erroneous and pseudo-scientific beliefs.'" 

you think for a moment. "oh," you say. "yeah." 

"what for?" 

something on your face changes. "fun," you say but it's more of a question. 

spencer just watches you, waiting for whatever answer he can tell is coming. 

"it was for a paper. i had-" you shake your head. "nevermind. it's not important." 

and then you smile at him as if you're letting him in on some secret. more comfortable, less enthusiastic than it usually is. 

more personal, closer to him. 

spencer watches your eyes, unsure what to say next. 

"i can get out of your hair if you've got something going on-" you say, beginning to get up, but spencer is quick to clear his throat. 

he can get his brain back together enough to keep you in his house. 

"no, uh, i'm not doing anything today," he says, "you don't have to leave." 

"okay," you say and sit back down. 

he waits, watching you. you wait, looking back. 

he feels a bit hypnotized. 

"so," you drawl. "got any coffee?" 

*

you stay for the next hour. 

spencer drinks in your words, a special kind of ambrosia made just for him. he memorizes every inclination of your lips, every movement of your head. 

his eyes don't leave you once. 

he feels his mind racing, a million different possibilities creating themselves. 

but as long as you stay he can't bring himself to care. 

when you're gone, he replays your voice over in his head. 

it's enough to keep everything else away. 

*

and then, three days later, when spencer is anxiously replaying a conversation he had with one of his classmates, he gets a notification from you. 

it's two in the afternoon. too soon for you to have gone to work. 

it's a wednesday. 

spencer breathes in, and then out, willing his heart to keep it's pace. 

consistency is all that matters. 

want to get coffee? you ask him. he feels his chest contract. 

spencer answers back before he can even breathe out. 

where?

*

the two of you get coffee twice a week for the next three. 

each time spencer can hardly believe it’s happening. 

spencer sits with you as you talk about work. he admires your soft way of speaking. remembers what your voice felt like right next to his ear. 

he watches as your eyes stay lit when you ask him a question. 

when you laugh at his stumbling, tease him when he doesn’t know how to answer. 

quickly, you’ve made friends with him. you’ve hook, line, secured him in obsession. 

he’s become so familiar with basking in your attention. just like it’s the sun. letting you warm every inch of him until he’s sure he’s going to burn up. 

spencer gets coffee with you whenever you ask. 

he pretends it means nothing. 

that he won’t crave it when it’s gone. 

*

part six. 

my masterlist here. 

[chiclet-go-boom]

muahah! well, sounds like i dodged an meh bullet there. maybe early access is bullshit, but it also means "here be jank, don't complain, we told you it wasn't ready". and point of clarification: my computer refuses to update, not cannot update. there is a particular Windows patch that i cannot get to complete properly (this is A Known Issue) and every fix I've searched up on the internet to jam that patch through so I can KEEP updating as I'm supposed to (and thereby have the the right version number that Nightingale requires) does not work. I am pretty much down to where the knowledgeable and anonymous types on the internet advise loading my OS onto a bootable flash stick and then wiping my computer clean and starting again. FFXIV 1.0 ran on supercooled computers owned by the government and high tech bros with more money than Midas. FFXIV ran on two potatoes connected by an untwisted paper clip because Yoshi-P loves us. Games designed for the former and not the latter are shooting themselves in the golden goose because cutting edge means bleeding edge means only the foolhardy are already there and the rest of us absolutely grazing in a different pasture and steam allows refunds.

:D

So I've been playing a game called Nightingale. ...first of all, there's a lot of things called "Nightingale," so straightaway I have to tag it as "Nightingale Game" and that's just, awkward. But, whatever. I've been playing it, so I feel like talking about it.

So, this was @chiclet-go-boom's suggestion, unfortunately her computer can't run it, neither could mine, but I installed some Nvidia spyware and here we are. The extreme tldr is "steampunk Valheim" so, I got the bug in my brain and wanted to give it a shot.

It's not great. It's not bad, but there's nothing unique or exciting about it. Granted, I'm early in the game, but, Valheim struck me instantly with its vibe and I was hooked from the gecko. Ditto Lies of P, Dishonored, and Bloodborne. Love at first sight is completely real, when it comes to art.

It's a pretty pretty game—too pretty, I think, since Chiclet's computer can't handle it without updates that the computer itself can't handle, and mine can only barely deal with it. My god. Devs, please, stop developing games for tomorrow's computers. I want to keep using the hardware I've had for ten years. More Minecraft, less Crysis.

Beyond being pretty... I mean, it's steampunk Valheim. You might notice there's nothing really "steampunk" in my screenshot, I look like Betty Rubble for christ's sake... again, early game, I assume I'll get more stuff later. Gameplay is pretty much like Valheim or any other open world survival crafting game; you pick up sticks, stones, and grass to make a crude hammer, axe, and pick, to get slightly better sticks and stones to make slightly better hammers and axes, and there's tiers of crafting benches, that whole deal. The usual.

It comes down to the feel. The way you move, the animation when you pick up stuff, the timing of the sound effects. It's... a little off. You instantly wave saplings into your inventory. You chop voxels out of a tree trunk, which is nice, but when it comes down, the whole thing breaks into pickupable logs instantly. Cf Valheim, where the tree comes down, you have to shop the fallen trunk into smaller logs, and then into bite-sized chunks you can pick up. You press the button to "pop" rocks and sticks into pick-uppable items. Tedious? Maybe. But making the gathering, which is basically half the game, more... involved, immersive? ...makes it more satisfying. In Nightingale, I can basically strafe across the countryside mashing the button, and filling my pockets without slowing down.

Sorry, I can't help but compare, it's how I work. Everything's different, I must have a preference, so something I don't prefer compared to something I do, it's just going to sound like so much negativity. As far as I can tell, though, I'm just sayin'.

Nightingale has more game to it. Valheim drops you in with something more like Dark Souls; you're dumped in a strange world with a vague mission... so, hop to it! In Minecraft, there's nothing, you just start playing. Nightingale is somewhat like Valheim in this regard, but the vague mission comes with dialogue boxes, voice acting, quest objectives in the corner of your screen—it's a little more gamey. Now, the game is still very much a sandbox, but it definitely wants to show you the route to progression, give you objectives. Set up your first Estate, talk to a key NPC, complete this dungeon.

The screenshots show you fighting gaslamp monsters with a flintlock in your vest and suspenders, so there's some grandiose steampunk scenery later on, but I'm still playing cave girl over here—which is fine, I'm here for a sandbox, let's be real. But I think this is a game that wanted to be more game than sandbox, and went with the sandbox thing because it's so in vogue. I mean... it worked on me, right?

It appears to have randomly-generated maps. There's a system of Fae cards where you generate worlds with particular parameters; no telling how many options there are later to up the complexity and challenge. Again, I'm early in the game. The game wants you to work to get access to the better stuff, which is fair, I couldn't go to the mountains right away in Valheim—but, I did try. In Nightingale, it seems you'll have to go through the steps to get access to the currency to buy the better crafting tables to make the cards needed for more interesting worlds. It's too bad, because my M. O. is to go straight for the level 99 monsters just to see what I'm up against.

I died a couple times because I didn't know there were monsters there, and they just came at me from all sides. But you can recruit an NPC, and they're, so far as I can tell, practically invincible. If they do fall, you can revive them instantly with a button-press, and they can revive you. There doesn't seem to be any drawback to just dying and reviving the other person and keep fighting. Again... early game. But, again, I could go straight for some trolls in Valheim, I could go straight to Caelid in Elden Ring, I could go to Mor Dhona at level 2. I appreciate having that option available, even though it might be stupid, pointless, and completely impossible—and if a game is a sandbox you'd think you could go straight into trouble without having to do a lot of game stuff to get there; getting into a state where you can survive is where the gameplay is.

I don't have a, y'know, thesis, when I start writing. Just passion and opinions. I'm a discovery writer! I'll figure it out as I go.

Anyway, I paid for the game and I'm past the refund window, so I guess I'll keep playing. Sunk cost fallacy, am I right? Well, I'm bored, so it's something to do. Maybe you get to a point where it gets really cool, but so far the sandbox aspect is pretty typical, pretty normal, and the gameplay, lore bits are lackluster. Building is pretty generic, too. Probably get cool steampunk stuff later, but for now it's the usual sticks and stones.

And, let me make my stance clear, in case I haven't already: "early access" is bullshit. If the game is for sale and anyone can just come up and buy it, it's released. It's not a special sneak peak, it just means the devs are still working on it, and they're charging you to beta test it for them. This is the age of the Internet, of Games As A Service; all games continue getting updates. When you release a game with clear problems, call it "Early Access" as an excuse, you're just putting forth an unmoving advertisement for yourself. It's like if a writer published an outline and said "This will be cool when I write it! Patreon tiers start at $5/month."

And I fell for it, because I'm a chump, but oh well. Can't win 'em all.

Yeah, I know, I'm bitter and whiny and jaded. Angry angry Meatball. There are so many games out there, the competition is extreme. It's not enough to say "What if Genre was Aesthetic? That would be neat!" The game has to be fun. Valheim is fun, it has a great atmosphere—not aesthetic, atmosphere. Viking is the aesthetic, but the atmosphere is in the brooding music, the sound effects, the whole just feeling of when monsters appear, how they appear, how it feels when you suddenly get attacked; how it feels to pick up items, to build things, everything from resting to food to repairs. The menus, the text style, the writing, item descriptions, the little dream text you get when you sleep. It all creates this vibe, this personality, this charm, that makes a game fun.

Nightingale just doesn't have that. It feels like I'm playing a Unity tutorial on making your first sandbox game. It looks good, the character creator is good, the trees and textures and stuff are nice, but it feels generic. I'm not impressed, but I'm not disappointed, I'm just not impressed.

"Meatball, you don't seem to like this game. Why are you playing it? Why don't you go play Valheim?" Well, because I'm a dumb ugly idiot, obviously, and I'm a sucker for something new and shiny. My character is cute and I don't know where this game is going, maybe something interesting is around the corner. I'm not done with Valheim but it's a more challenging game, and every time I exist I get killed and all my stuff is stuck where a hundred skeletons live and I don't have the patience to go back and get it, or to get new stuff, that's why.

"Meatball, you sure complain a lot!" Look, if there was something I liked, I wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought about it, and besides, I'd be too into playing it until I got burnt out, lost my enthusiasm, and couldn't muster the strength to say anything about it, anyway. Did I post much about Valheim? No, I was busy having fun, and then it started to get hard, so I gave up and went to play Warframe.

"Meatball, you gushed about Warframe that other time and talked about how much you love that game!" Awp, you got me! I'm a liar and a hypocrite very often. Warframe is an extreme top-tier game for me; the passion lasts, ebbs and flows, but always returns. After the puppy love phase wore off, I still had a deep fascination and interest in it, and without being overwhelmed with excitement, I was able to get my thoughts in order and write a coherent post about it.

"Meatball, is this just compensating for your withdrawal symptoms since you're done writing your FFXIV dungeon reviews and now you have nothing to write about?" Yes. Very yes.

"Meatball, stop putting words in my mouth." That will probably never happen. I am sorry. Sort of.

Okay I'm done.

[jq37]

Another hour was deffo needed. I'd have loved a scene of Hob and Rue officially accepting Binx's invite into their Court/Found Family or a scene of Chirp and her family. Some resolution on whatever the eff was going on with Wanessa and her plain but symmetrical ass. Andhera and Binx gave us exactly what we wanted. As for Squawk, he simultaneously gave the nastiest and most effective help action ever. His ending was as chaotic as the journey he took us on to get there. No notes.

I was super surprised when I was told the finale was only going to be a little over an hour (no shade of course, I heard it was because of scheduling but even if it wasn't, I'm not gonna complain about their choices) but I'm surprised they were able to wrap it up as well as they did in the time they had!

I do think it's weirdly fitting that in a season so concerned with social situations and drama rather than combat, the final battle got less airtime than the extended bit about Real Life Actor Jeremy Renner.

I def would like to know if anything was planned for Wanessa that they just didn't get to and I would have loved to see Chirp with her human family.

But, again, I do love what we did get. Andhera and Binx got a nice "and the adventure continues" ending together. Wuvvy and Rue had the start of a reconciliation. Brennan continues to have the vocal Midas touch as he just let that insanely romantic speech flow out of him like it was nothing (also, congrats on the double Nat 20's my guy!). And Squawk continues to be beyond reproach. No notes, indeed.

Can't wait to see what the next season is when the trailer drops tomorrow!

[fanfic-enthusiast]

Post Flight Relaxation

Warning NSFW!!!

The shining lights of Schatzstadt, the luminous golden city in the desert, were always a dazzling treat to the eye. A brilliant display turning a barren lonesome desert into an oasis of fun and excitement.

They had come here to visit Paidia and of course in a place like this even someone as well known as she could be difficult to find. Thankfully after so many visits, her followers did recognize them. Themselve and Dolos did stand out from the usual crowd quite a bit after all. So it didn’t take long for one to approach them to let them know Paidia would be here soon. Dolos had opted to spend the rest of this night relaxing in her room here, to try and decompress and rest up after the long flight across the ocean. A typical occurrence when the two of them would visit without Fortuna and the other gods.

The inside of the city felt even brighter than the view from a distance, flashing lights and bell sounds from winning machines rang out all over the place. Lucky mortals shrieking with joy holding their winnings and rushing off to the next game.

Titus grinned at their antics, it reminded them of his Midas, getting so excited about finding shiny treasures in unexpected places. Seems these mortals shared that enthusiasm. They continued idly watching people mill about at one of the many bars while sipping on a fruity tasting drink that was slid over to him by the bartender.

People passing would occasionally stare and whisper to one another, sometimes wave with a small smile. One time a particularly brave mortal came up and sat next to them, complimenting their horns and sliding close to their side offering to buy them a drink. Perhaps a bit too sweet a gesture with Dolos right next to them enjoying their company, she was a little possessive of them the rest of the night. Not that Titus complained, it was thrilling to see her like that.

Titus smiled at the fond memory as they heard the volume of the room increase, it seemed their other girlfriend had arrived!

Paidia in all her glory rounded the corner from the offices into the main gambling area of the casino, with a few of her followers and fans hot on her heels. The commotion drew the attention of the other mortals in the room who made their way towards her as well.

She just loved the attention, Titus could see it written on her face from where they sat. She waved to them and blew kisses, moving past a few she liked with a sly wink and a brush of her tentacles over their heads as she made her way through the crowd to where Titus sat at the bar.

“Well now~ I didn’t know surf n’ turf was today's special. I would have gotten here sooner,” Paidia grinned up at them and wrapped her tentacles around their shoulders to pull them into a hug. “It's wonderful to see you again so soon! Couldn’t get enough of me hm~” “How could I ever?~” Titus brushed a tentacle through the curled frills that wrapped around her neck. “Is Dolos resting?” “Mhm, the flight wasn’t too bad this time around but it was still long. We should let her rest. She’ll be up and about tomorrow.” She nods and Titus pulls back from the hug a little bit to press a kiss to her cheek, whispering in her ear in the process. “Until then I can keep you more then entertained~” “Is that so Titus, that's quite the statement.” “I don't make it lighty Paidear.” They press another kiss to her cheek.

“Well then you know where we need to head then~”

“Oh I know, by all means lead the way to my stage for the evening, I promise not to disappoint~”

It had been a while for Titus, and the tone in Paidia’s voice led them to believe she was feeling rather pent up as well. The three of them could spend all of tomorrow catching up with one another but for now they all needed to unwind a bit.

The crowd had dispersed a little, once again distracted by the games and risk the casino provided. The perfect chance for Paidia and Titus to slip away relatively unseen. Those who tried to follow were shooed away. Paidia led them to one of the nicer unoccupied rooms at the hotel portion of the casino, quickly opening the door with a key and pulling Titus inside. With the door shut and locked up tight.

She’s pulling them down into a proper kiss in moments. Tentacles curling up to twirl around Titus’s horns as their lips move together. When they pull apart breathing heavily she smiles. “Time to put your money where your mouth is, surf n’ turf.” “I’d rather have you there dearest,” They leaned down to press kisses down her cheek to her neck, lavishing the sensitive skin between her curly frills with attention. Sucking and nibbling in places that had her arching her head back to give them better access with a pleased sigh. “You certainly taste much better~” “Oho well indulge all you like, you know how to use your mouth well after all.” “Glad you think so, cause I’ve been wanting to for a while.” They dive back in around her frills while their tentacles twist and slide against Paidia’s. Twirling and caressing each other while the two gods inch back towards the king size bed in the center of the opulent room.

Titus’s loose robe quickly fell from their body to the floor before they each slid onto the soft comforter still wrapped up in squeezing and caressing every bit of skin they can each get their tentacles around. Paidia pushes them to the bed, grinning wildly as she locks lips with Titus again. While she took the time to run her tentacles along Titus’s chest, coiling and massaging away. While Titus slipped their tongue past her lips, moaning softly. They arch their back to push their chest into her grasp. “Still as sensitive as ever hm, Tit-us~”

The sounds Titus made were muffled by Paidia’s lips as they kissed her, one of her tentacles trailed down along their chest past their stomach and between the tentacles that made up Titus’s legs. Searching for a moment to find- “Mmm!!~” Titus’s moans rose in pitch as Paidia coiled her tentacle around their dick. She pushed them back a little to get a better grip on their body while she slowly moved her tentacle up and down in a teasingly slow pace that had Titus trembling slightly in her grasp. “Oh more than usual I see, been a while since youve done anything naughty hm?” Titus nodded, holding onto her while she moved. She squeezed them a little, drawing out a louder moan from them. “Cute~” Paidia gave them one last pump before she was pulled up and Titus’s mouth was on her again, kissing feverishly down her torso towards her lower frills. “E-eager now are we?! Oh yes!! Mm~!!!” Paidia laid back on the bed, one pair of tentacles twisting around Titus’s horns while the other found its way to the bedspread to ground herself as Titus continued their exploration downwards along her frills and buried their face there. Titus licked and trailed their tentacles along the places he knew drove Paidia wild as she writhed under them. Savoring the taste and feel of her. She babbled nonsense under them as they worked on her, their long tongue plunging deep inside causing her moans to crack. It wasn’t long until she was grinding up into their face shouting towards the ceiling praise and unintelligible words as she urged them to keep going. And going and goiinnngggg, with a final cry she squeezed down on them trembling in their grasp as they helped coax her through her orgasm. Finally pulling away after they started to feel lightheaded.

“W-wow… y-you weren’t kidding about keeping me entertained.” “You said put my money where my mouth was~” Paidia laughed and pulled them up towards her for a tender kiss, pushing Titus to lay down next to her while she curled up on their chest. “I’ll return the favor in a minute if you like, just let me catch my breath mmkay?” “Sounds good Paidear.” They held her close and ran their tentacle through her frills as they both relaxed together. From against their chest they heard a muffled, “Love you~” from the tired seaslug. “Love you too.”