#an agent mentioned to me that part of the difficulty i've been having is likely because it doesn't easily slot into a specific age bracket

[beaft]

you have an isekai story? can i read it somewhere?

one day, i hope! i'm currently attempting to get it trad-published, but if i don't have any success i'll self-publish. i've only been avoiding the self-publishing route thus far because you have to do so much of your own marketing and i'm pants at that.

[kaira-diaries]

Make it Right

summary: A work fling was all it was until Javier learned of life-changing news causing his fling to return home. It's been too long since Javi saw her, but a sudden run-in shifts the course of his career and outlook forever.

warning: mention of death // implied sexual behavior.

pairing: Javier peña x f!character

comments: a second part to this will eventually be written, also I can’t remember Connie and Steve’s Childs name so, my bad, but enjoy.

masterlist here <-

Colombia is peaceful at dusk. All that can be given attention to is the soft thumps of music that looms from just down the avenue. It's what I'll continue to wish for extensively when I take off tomorrow. I stand in my empty apartment, merely filled now with three years of my life packed away in stacks of boxes. I hold my crumpled to-do list between my fingers and check off the second to last thing on the list. Initially, there were ten things I planned to do; all organized based on difficulty. I've dreaded number ten since the day I wrote it down, but sometimes what's best for you requires the hardest goodbyes and the most profound sacrifices.

When I left the states those three years ago, I had nothing to be more excited about than my job promotion, but as an outcome of that, I left my family behind and the man I was supposed to marry. I'd fidget with the diamond engagement ring every day, feeling guilty for what I'd done until I answered a life-changing call three months ago. My mother is dying, and she isn't going to get any better; my fiancé has been taking care of her, which opened my eyes to my unequal and unbalanced scale of work and life. It's become too messy for me to balance equably, but what tipped it over ultimately is Javier Peña.

The man is unlike anyone I've ever been associated with, and the worst part is that I gave my broken word to another man who expects loyalty. The shame was ever so lasting, and I'd find myself slipping the ring off to spare my pride when we'd share a night or two. Javi is irresistible, insatiable and he damn well knows it.

I shut the apartment complex door behind me; the warm breeze blows against my pink cheeks and comforts my unease. I take the first step that leads in the direction of the terrible ten, telling Javier that I'm leaving.

My knuckles knock against the wood of his front door, and it opens with ease to reveal his expression. It's always the same; the shadow of exhaustion follows him closely as if he's its next victim. It’s what happens when you’ve done nearly the most for Colombia out of every agent at the DEA. I greet him with a smile, and he reciprocates it, but he drags me in by the waist to shower me with kisses. I mumble Javier's name repeatedly, hoping he'd hear me, but it fails, and I'm forced to retract myself from his arms. He's tempting, but tonight is about goodbyes and explanations.

"What is it?" He asks with confusion in his eyes. My heart burns at sight.

I rip it off like a bandage. "I'm moving back to the states tomorrow." I itch my neck in worry as he starts to react.

I'd give nearly anything to say that Javier is an emotional man, but he isn't, and I don't think he'll ever be. He processes and accepts while moving on with his day. His cold and frozen expression makes me question my coming here, and I contemplate making a run for it now. But, something catches my attention. Perhaps he isn't processing. He's trying to find the right words to say as he rubs his chin. His eyes glint against the light; they're glassy, and I'm appalled at this new behavior of his.

Javier spins around and goes through the kitchen cabinets to pull out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He doesn't have to say anything as we sit on the couch and drink the intoxicating alcohol.

"How long? A few weeks or a couple of months?" He questions.

"Permanently." I bite my lip and squeeze the glass in my hand. "My mother is dying, and..my fiancé is taking care of her." I nearly mumble the final part of my sentence, and his eyes race to meet mine. I shrug my shoulders and throw the whiskey back as the second wound remains fresh and exposed.

I stand from the couch and put the glass in the kitchen sink. After a moment or two, I feel his warmth grow closer until it inflames my body. Javi hovers behind me.

"What we have, Javi. It isn't love, nor is it romantic. It's comfort." I say and turn around to face him. "I agree, Querida. That being said, let me comfort you one last time." He whispers and pushes kisses into my salted cheeks.

While she and Javier spent one last night together, she felt a peaceful closure to the life she started in Colombia because none of it would dare follow her back to the states. While drowned in her slumber, Javi laid awake to feel her heartbeat. Little did she ever know that between the beats of her tiny heart, his soul crumbled to ashes because despite her words, she wasn't a fling to him; she was his future.

***

It's cold today, how uncharacteristic of texas. Heatwaves have been scorching our large state, making everyone beg for a whispy breeze of cold air, and I thank my mother from below for it. When I first walked through our front door, she would say that I brought the Colombian heat with me and complain about how warm it was in the house. While I wanted to scoff in her face in response to her attitude, I also understood why she complained. I felt her skin, and it was colder than ice before she passed away, and it comes with old age, but mother was always stern, even with the fluffiest blanket covering her. Still, I never thought I'd bury her so soon after my arrival.

It's been five years since I left Colombia and four years since my mother died, and much has happened. It didn't take long to find out I was pregnant, neither did it take long for my fiance, Levi, to find out. He left, as you can imagine. You'd have to be dense not to apprehend his leaving. Either way, after losing what I had left, I was given something big enough to fill those holes. A beautiful daughter who resembled her father in ways I didn't know was even possible. I named her after my mother, Zoey. She is a blessing. I shiver suddenly from the breeze that runs up my spine and step back from the tombstone in front of me. My jean pocket vibrates, and I pull my phone out to reveal Connie's name on the screen. I owe nearly everything to this woman. She guided me through roughly everything during my pregnancy. If not for her, I would have gone through everything alone.

"Hey, is it time?" I ask her.

"Yep, everything is a go, but I've got to tell you, honey. Someone has...unexpectedly shown up, Ummm its -"

"You know it's no big deal, Connie! I'll see you there!"I cut her off and hung up, not needing to hear the rest. I've always gotten along with strangers, and hell, the more, the merrier! I lose my train of thought in my excitement for the party, and I check my watch. I nearly curse myself; I'm going to be late picking Zoey up from school. I pull my keys from my purse and move on quick legs towards the car.

The school was packed with cars, which made us later than ever. In my panicked hurry, I managed to collect a speeding ticket from a police officer. It’s quite a lot for speeding access, in my opinion, and I’ll always try to be an exceptional role model for Zoey, but this wasn’t my brightest moment. She sits in her car seat now, silent, emerged in an episode of blues clues. She’s loved that little blue dog since the moment she was able to. I made an effort to keep the party a secret from her. Her continuous questioning was hard to dodge, forcing me to come with some ridiculous answers. It’s in those moments I’m thankful that she’s turning five because anything is believable to her.

I pull my SUV into Connie and Steve’s driveway but notice an unfamiliar truck parked in front of the house. I think nothing of it, as it could be the extra guest Connie warned me about and shut the car off. “Is Sophie here, mama?” Zoey asks me, and I pull her from the vehicle. “Yep, she’s been waiting for you all day, bee.” She cheers and wiggles her way out of my arms to run on her chubby legs towards the door. I yell for her to be careful up the stairs.

I soon follow behind her with presents in my hand and gawk at the decorations in the house. It looks like Blues Clues vomited on every square inch of the place. I stand at the mouth of the hallway, and Connie appears with excitement in her expression.

“Oh, isn't it great!” She cheers and takes the gifts from me. “I had to force Steve to help me, y’know when footballs on, he doesn’t want to move from his chair.” My mouth starts to dry. “It’s…wonderful, Connie. Thank you.” I say and squeeze her tight in a hug. “Anything for our busy bee.” She responds, and we head to the kitchen to pop open a bottle of wine.

“You go ahead in the kitchen. I’ll be right there.” I tell Connie, wanting to check on Zoey. I follow the sounds of squealing and laughing down the hallway and find her playing with Sophie and their group of friends. My heart warms at her happiness as I study the smile on her face. It’s an expression all too familiar, one that’s still memorized in my brain. It’s his smile that mirrors back at me. While standing at the doorframe, I must have lost track of my surroundings because when I turn to leave, I bump into another person. With my heels, we’re practically the same height as I look into Steves's eyes.

“Careful there.” He laughs and pulls me in for a hug. I apologize to him and thank him for the party. “Does Bee love it as much as I hoped?” He asks, and I chuckle. “She does.”

“I heard the decorations cut into your football watching time. I must say it’s such a sacrificial and heroic choice.” I clutch my chest and pick at him as we walk back to the kitchen.

“Well, it wasn’t just Connie and me.” He says as we enter the kitchen. A glass of wine is pushed into my hand, but my heart feels as if it’s stopped. My senses drown, and my stomach somersaults because of the man that stands just a few feet across from me. He looks a little older and much more built. His eyes reflect the same shade of brown as does his hair. His lips are the same soft pink that pop of beautiful color, and he looks just as frazzled as I imagine I’d be.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” He states plainly. That voice pulls my head from the clouds and back to the ground.

“I think I just have,” I remark and place my glass down on the table when I hear the sound of Zoey’s giggles grow louder.

“Mommy, look!” She jumps at my feet in front of me and shows me a little stuffed bear. I kneel to her level. “He’s an adorable bear, bee.“ She smiles but notices the shift of my eyes and turns to face Javier. Before it went on too long, I spun her back to me. “Baby go play with your friends, yeah? I’ll call you when it’s cake time.” I kiss her cheek, and she takes off.

“Umm. This-this conversation is really about to happen. Isn’t it.” He says nothing, but the answer is clear, and I turn to Steve and Connie, silently asking them to give us some time. They leave, and the two of us sit across from one another.

“I didn’t find out I was pregnant until a few days after I went home.” My cheeks become salted with tears, but I continue. “It’s funny. I always imagined in my head how this conversation would play out. So that one day I’d be prepared for it, but now I don’t know what to think-“

“You kept it from me.” He cuts me off, and I suck on my lips while nodding my head.

“You were so driven on making Colombia a better place. I couldn’t allow myself to stand between a man and his passion. You would’ve been living two different lives that were separated by thousands of miles.” I can’t read his expression as he listens.

After a couple of minutes in silence, he nods in acceptance. While I’m flabbergasted to see Javier again, I’m also glad. In my heart, I always knew I owed him an explanation. He deserved to know the truth.

“What’s she like?” I smile.

“You,” I reply and study the tear that slips from his eye.

“I didn’t get to have a choice then, so I’m going to make it now. I want to be in her life and catch up on the five years that I have missed.” I nod my head.

“I can’t stop you,” I say.

[crownleys]

for the vg ask meme: 1, 4, 24, 30 !!

1 - Favorite video game? I think the title of my favorite video game ever has to go to Portal 2 (and Portal). I really enjoy so much of the mechanics, design, characters, what have you. I've replayed it a bunch of times and love watching people explore it for the first time. Other honorable mentions go to Pokemon Arceus, Unpacking, Year Walk, Oxenfree, Horizon Zero Dawn, and Mass Effect 2. 4 - Favorite video game character? This one's really hard tbh! I'm actually not quite sure. I have so many I really like, but I don't know if I have a Favorite Favorite. I think I'll say Chell from Portal to go with the answer above. Other favs include Aloy, Lara Croft, Ana Amari, Cassandra Pentaghast and Merrill, and also Agent 14 from GTA Online

24 - Hardest boss fight you’ve been in? The Serebaas in Trespasser for sure. I was playing on Nightmare at the time and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the last few points of health chipped away. I eventually had to knock down the difficulty and beat it that way.

30 - Why do you game? Honestly for me it's a big part a social aspect. I play a lot of games with online features, like GTA and Minecraft and Stardew Valley, that let me hang out with my friends and fool around. I have more hours in games like those than I do in campaign based ones.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 2]

Words: 2.5K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse

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"Your little one is here as of right now." Dr. Telille says, pointing to a very little area to the far side of my womb and I smile before she switches the focus slightly and then looks at the screen with a slightly odd look before flipping through my chart. "At your previous Obstetrician, did they mention any abnormalities?" She asks me. 

"No." I shake my head. 

"You said in your history you've had recurrent miscarriages?" She asks next. 

"Yes." 

"Okay, Mrs. Sixx, don't be alarmed by this because there is a solution but this," she turns the screen to me again, pointing at a shadow in the picture that looks like it's creating bunny ears or something. "Is a layer of tissue that's not supposed to be there. It halts fetal growth, and ultimately causes miscarriages, often times even before a fetus is interacting with the tissue itself, physically." She informs me and I feel like my chest is throbbing from how hard my heart is beating. "The good news is that we can fix this, I've had to do a few surgeries like this before--we can go in and cut that tissue out without disturbing your baby, but we will need to have it done within the next week--two weeks at the most." She explains and I raise my brows. 

"What's my chance of carrying out my pregnancy to term without the surgery?" I ask, trying to stay calm. 

"With a successful surgery, there is a 80% chance of you carrying it to term, and a higher chance at not facing as many pregnancy difficulties in the future like you've had previously. Without the surgery, with your history, it's very, very probable that you won't get to four months without miscarrying--if that far." She adds. 

"What's the risk of this surgery causing complications?" I ask next. 

"30%." She replies and I breathe out. "You don't have to make a decision today, you can go home and think about it and talk about it with the father but we need to get it scheduled in the next few days." 

"Um, o-okay…" I rub my lips together. 

"And if you are interested in the surgery, we can go ahead and send it in and see if insurance will cover it." She assures me. 

"I don't have maternity insurance right now." I tell her and she looks at me uneasily. 

"No worries, we can figure the costs out after you decide if you want it or not." She tells me, calmly, and I just nod. 

I numbed myself. I would've been freaking out, having a meltdown, begging God to spare my damn baby for once...but as soon as she started in on what was wrong with me, the negative outcomes...I flicked the switch in my brain and just let myself feel absolutely nothing as best as I could. My nervousness was relief compared to blatant breakdown mode that I knew would hit inevitably.

And how the hell did I tell Duff and Nikki that I was going to need surgery that could potentially terminate my pregnancy--or suffer what I'd suffered before and still lose a baby? Oh, right. I didn't. At least, not as soon as I probably should have.

When I get to my new little house I'm renting with my savings, Duff's sitting on the little porch, drinking a beer. 

"How'd it go?" He asks me, standing up as I unlock the door. 

He couldn't go with me this time because he had to go look at a couple houses with Mandy, which I understand because they had already canceled once with a real-estate agent and would get charged extra if they missed another appointment. 

"Good." I lie, clearing my throat. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Whisky's barking at us until he realizes it's me, and then he won't get out from under my feet until I pat him on the head. 

"I need to finish unpacking." I say before Duff can ask anymore questions. 

"Well, it's your lucky day because I know how to unpack." He states, grinning. 

I go change into pajamas and when I get back, he's pulling pictures from one of the boxes, neatly placing them on the coffee table in the living room and I pick them up and start figuring out where to put them. 

"So, my family really wants me to bring you up." He says, optimistically. "I was thinking leave Sunday and come back next Saturday."

"...Duff, I can't just up and leave right now. I have to finish unpacking, and I'm gonna be meeting with Nikki once a week and then him and the guys once a week so that's two different…" I trail off as he cuts open another one of my packed boxes with his pocket knife, a look of disappointment on his face. "...It's not that I don't want to, you know. I just have a lot going on right now." 

"We'd just be gone for a week." He says, looking at me. "It's the only time off I have for a while since we're doing a few shows in New York and Europe." He adds. "And I really want my family to know you, kinda, before you have the baby." 

"I don't know." I hesitantly tell him and he licks his lips. "I don't know, Duff, okay? I just...ughhh." I groan, raking my hands through my hair. 

"If you don't want to meet my family then don't worry about it, Vivian." He says it a little passive aggressively and I raise my brows. 

"'Vivian'? Since when the hell am I 'Vivian'?" I ask, mimicking his tone. 

"That's your name isn't it?" He asks next and I cross my arms.

"You usually call me 'Viv', or...something…"

"Well, I'm not calling you, 'babe,' or, 'baby,' since we aren't dating anymore so…"

"You're being a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick. I'm just family oriented and I want my family to know you and our kid and you're making up excuses to not go and meet them."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be judged." I snap back. 

"They're not fucking judgemental." 

"Oh, so you're cussing at me now, too, huh?" 

"Quit trying to start an argument." He tells me. 

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm making a valid point." 

"You're making an assumption." He corrects me. "My family isn't judgemental. They're really not. I don't even think they're worried with the fact that you were married when we got together because they haven't said a word about it. They just want to meet you." 

"Matt didn't seem so cool about it." I mumble. 

"Matt was trying to keep both of us out of trouble." He explains. "He wasn't judging you. He just doesn't like drama and if we would've gotten caught he knew it'd just be a bunch of bullshit we'd have to get thrown at us." 

I just stare at him. 

"And I'm sorry for cussing at you, but I'm trying to be positive about all of this and I really don't want you to start bringing in your negativity." He exhales. 

"My negativity?" I raise my brows, laughing humorlessly. 

"Please, just come to Seattle with me next Sunday. I promise it'll be fun and my family's fun, they don't mean any harm by wanting you to come up and visit--they're already talking about planning a trip when it's born to be here for you and me both for a few days." He adds. 

I think about it, seeing his eyes glint a little as he slowly smiles at me like a hopeful puppy. 

"Okay." I relent and he puts his hands above his head, folding them together, letting out a loud, "Hallelujah!" and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a chuckle. 

The truth is, I don't want to leave Nikki stewing that long after revealing to him my miscarriages. He never came back when he left the therapy session yesterday, and I was supposed to go back today but decided I needed another day to just think about everything, but because of Amber's schedule, we won't be able to get back in the same room together--aside from me just visiting him--until next Wednesday...but with Duff wanting to leave Sunday and come back that Saturday, I won't be able to meet then, either. A part of me isn't even sorry that I won't make it since the morale of Nikki's story is that he married a maestro of manipulation that can play victim like no other but is really an evil bitch who loves to make people suffer. 

I gathered that after reading: 

"I married a fucking demon."

"Vivian climbed from hell just to neuter me." 

"My wife's a fucking lunatic." 

"I sometimes think Vivian's waiting for me to die so she can get the money." 

"I hate her." 

"I don't know what's killing me faster: my looney wife, or smack. Doesn't matter--they're both my drug of choice." 

"If she didn't know how to fuck I would've already left her." 

"She flushed every bit of what Jason dropped off last night. Cost me a couple grand. I'm so pissed, if I knew she wouldn't beat the shit out of me and go batshit-ballistic, I'd lay her out on the fucking floor. I'm sure it'd be like foreplay in her sick mind, anyway." 

"I swear she cums every time she belittles me." 

And, my personal favorite: 

"Just woke up from a fucking nightmare. I was fucking around with Vivian and Vanity and once they got their satisfaction they started eating me alive while talking about their love for God. Even with them gnawing on me alive with their shark-like teeth and their completely black eyes, stripping flesh from my bone and going at it like a fucking pork chop, I was turned on. But as soon as they started about God, how good and wonderful he was, that's when I started panicking a little that I OD'd without realizing it and was in hell or some fucking incarnation of it. I see now that's how they both got me, being hot and knowing exactly what to do to get me going. And now they're both sucking the life out of me, eating me alive, while praying to their God and acting like they're blameless in my destruction. CHICKS = TROUBLE." 

At least we both agree that we married demons.

It was strange for me to realize how he saw me--well, how Sikki saw me. Once I was able to differentiate between the two of them, it hurt less reading what he'd write about me. It was just confusing. 

One page would be an entire rant (with unflattering, random song lyrics to match) about something I did that pissed him off--sometimes things I wouldn't even realize I did to make him upset and then the next page would be decently positive things about me that he'd profess after waking up sort of sober…

I knew he felt guilty about how he treated me, most of the entries from the end of '83 to '87 had "I'm an asshole" or "I really fucked up" or some version of it in them but the deeper into '87 he got, the less and less apologetic he got. Both in real time and his dairies. 

Despite the black and white of his diaries, one thing still lingered in the grey area…

I stare at the little TV on my dresser, bowl of captain crunch in hand as I stuff my face while flipping channels, Whisky gnawing on his chew toy as a flickering, fuzzy and static blaring familiar face flashes across the screen as I turn to the next channel. My heart stops for a moment, my finger immediately going back, the screen and audio clearing as I see her. 

Clear eyed and competent. A far removal from what I last saw of her with her gnashing teeth and tortured eyes, spewing at Nikki and I both before he and her got into a fight that left her dragged down the stairs of our old house...guilt tugs at me, remembering the look on her face, the pain, the hurt...perhaps she felt as bad as I did about the situation. 

He was the one telling her he was going to leave me and marry her, after all. My feury swallowed him before it ever thought about swallowing her. 

"...I'm currently looking at other scripts for other films." She replies very calm and composed to whatever question her interviewer was asking...I'm assuming this is part of her press run for her new movie coming out. 

"If you could write a ticket for yourself, Vanity, what would it be?" The woman asks next and she furrows her brows, slightly. 

"Write a ticket? To go somewhere?" 

"No, write a ticket for the rest of your life, and your career. Just everything about your life." She explains. 

"Ohhh," She thinks a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I wouldn't want to do that, actually, because, um, everytime I turn around something new's happening. I'm a very spontaneous person. I just like to get up and go, and I've been doing that since I was fifteen...so, um, I couldn't say I'd like to write that ticket." She chuckles a little, but not the crack-cackle I was used to seeing in her past interviews. 

She's actually sober here. 

"I just wanna go wherever life takes me." She continues. 

"What you're saying then, is, you couldn't write a ticket because what you would write wouldn't be as good as what could happen?" 

"No, I don't--"

"--No?"

"No, I don't think that, I'm not saying that at all. I feel that I have certain goals in my life. Very big, big, dreams that I set for myself. But I wouldn't wanna, um, question God's way about where he's going with me." She states. "That's just...not me." 

"If you could go back and change anything--"

"--Nothing." Vanity says, biting her lip nervously, shaking her head. 

"Any of the decisions?"

"Nothing." 

"Wouldn't change a thing?" 

"Nothing." She buckles down on it and I feel my eyes gloss over. "Wouldn't change a thing…" she trails off, thinking for a second. "...Can't say that I would." She adds, softly. "Because each time that I've done something, whether it be a mistake in my life, it's always...what you might call a mistake in my life is never a mistake to me. It was a definite meant to be and it was a definite learning process. So all the pain and all the glory...I wouldn't change a thing."

She's so unapologetically sincere. 

I cut the TV off as they start closing out the interview, and toss the remote across the room, losing my appetite and putting my bowl on my nightstand before I allow myself to replay what she just said. 

And I cry, not because she was in a relationship with him, not because she tried to steal him from me...I cry because I regret everything. I regret marrying Nikki. I regret meeting Duff. I regret getting pegnant. 

I'm not angry at her.

I envy her.

[leos-regression-cove]

The New Sibling

Chapter 7. Bathtime

Synopsis: Sylvie gives Mobius his first bath, and later, Mobius has his first fit and only Loki can solve it.

Word count: 1,276

Stand Alone?: no. 7/9

Warnings: scars, anxiety meltdowns, and diapers

Notes: **SPOILERS** This chapter began a big regret for me. Mobius' sensitivity was an odd aesthetic choice that I made mostly because a Tumblr account I like mentioned that they headcanon him having scarred up legs from being a TVA agent. unfortunately, that concept falls a little flat when working with an AU. Also, since then, I've decided that Mobius in a onesie or shorts or even just his nappy isn't that odd of an image. It's kind of cute!

I've debated deleting it retroactively, but I think it's too late now. Maybe around chapter 20 or so I'll stop using it and it'll just fall into obscurity. I'll say something like "oh he just trusts Thor and Sylvie enough. It was only an issue early on."

Read it on AO3!

“Aw, sweet little one, it’s okay. Scary this first time, isn’t it?”  Sylvie hummed.

Mobius’ face was red and tears were starting to prick at the corners of his eyes, yet he was still quiet, aside from a few helpless whimpers and whines which were still well below Loki’s normal volume as Sylvie patiently changed him out of the messy diaper. 

“Be still so mummy can get you all cleaned up now.” 

He was an incredibly easy little to bathe, and seemed to love the water, having a preference for the warmth. He was the type of baby to slap the water, but not really splash, and to try and hold the liquid in his hands, shocked as it would run between his fingers and back down into the bath. He peeped and fidgetted and still seemed rather responsive to any form of touch, yet he seemed happy, well at least until Sylvie took the pacifier out of his mouth. 

He asked for it back with a silent look, and then with a point and a few vowels. 

“You’ll get it back in a second,” Sylvie replied. 

His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to think of his own solution to the problem. At first, he moved his thumb up to his mouth, but of course Sylvie shut that down quickly. 

He started to bite down on the inside of his cheek and quicken his breathing just slightly. 

“No, no. Look, I know we’re a bit scared having our first bath, but mummy’s not going to let you have that pacifier in. Sorry, sweet one, but it’ll just be for a few minutes until you’re all clean. Then we’ll be done.”

Restlessly, the little started to fuss a bit. 

“How about we use mr. alligator?” she asked as a last resort as he began to put those tears from earlier to use and his whining became slightly louder and more continuous. 

Mr. Alligator was a beat-up, homemade washcloth puppet that she had sewn for Loki after Thor had expressed difficulty with getting the little into the bath, which had been a bathtime staple now for a good three years. The wear was starting to show. 

The baby watched it for a moment as she moved it from side to side, checking if he was interested by watching how his eyes tracked it. 

“He’s going to help me get you all clean.” She moved the alligator’s mouth and put some soap into it which made the baby still for a second, his face unreadable. 

She made the alligator rub up against his side at first, in a friendly manner, the same way a cat might, with its head tilted towards him, which he seemed to find slightly amusing. But as it started to clean with an open mouth, appearing to “bite” him, he tried to move away and the tears came right back. 

Sylvie took a deep breath and sighed, knowing the worst part which she’d have to do next. “I’m sorry, Mobius,” she said in a silly voice to appear as if it were the puppet talking. “I really am a friendly alligator. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

She let the baby grab its snout and poke at its eyes, and gently “bit” his hand to allow him time to understand what it was supposed to feel like. 

He smiled, a full grin, forgetting all about his pacifier for a moment as Sylvie continued to make comments through the gator’s mouth as she cleaned him. 

All of Sylvie’s efforts however, soon paid off. She set Mr. Alligator down on the side of the tub as the water drained, allowing Mobius the opportunity to touch the toy more and play with it as she began to dry him off with a hooded puppy bath towel. 

���Can we say bye-bye to mr. Alligator?” she wondered aloud. 

He made a little wave towards the puppet as she stood him up, drying him a bit more before sitting down on the toilet seat and letting him sit in her lap with the towel as a comfortable barrier between the little’s damp skin and her still fairly dry clothes. 

She hugged him close and rocked him back and forth. “First bathtime at home. That’s very exciting, isn’t it?” 

He curled up into her lap and tried once more to set his thumb in his mouth.

“Aw, I know, baby boy needs his soother,” she hummed as she bounced her knee and grabbed the pacifier off the counter, popping it into his mouth. 

He visibly relaxed as she rocked him back and forth. 

Sylvie felt a little bit of warmth trickle onto the towel, not much, but enough to realize that it was probably time to get a diaper on the little guy. They’d have plenty of time to cuddle later. 

So she did, laying him down on the changing mat and taping a thick diaper over his lower half.

She slipped a onesie on him and buttoned it up.  

“There we go,” she narrated. “There’s mummy’s snuggly boy!” she cooed, ready to pick him up and return him to play. 

But the sad, anxious look returned to the baby’s face.

“Uh-oh, what is it now?” she asked. 

He kicked his legs and his face twisted to tear up. But he didn’t make the silent whimpery cry he had exhibited earlier, instead it was a full-on, pacifier-drop-from-mouth, cry with thrashing and yelping. 

In all the three months Sylvie had known him, usually spending an hour or two with him a day, she had never seen him cry like this before. 

“No, no, no crying,” she shushed him, picking him up again. “Why are we so sad?” she asked. “This is a happy day. We’re happy.”  

Mobius kept bawling. He was trying to tell her there was something wrong, but she wasn’t quite sure what, and he didn’t know how to communicate. 

“Thor- psst. Hey! Thor!” Sylvie opened the bathroom door and called him over, disrupting him from chopping vegetables for dinner. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I- I don’t know…”

Loki peeked around the corner, pausing his play to see what could’ve made the silent little cry so hard. 

“Did you get water in his face?” 

“No, I don’t think so…” 

Loki investigated closer as Thor took the baby out of her arms. “Um!” He got the adults’ attention. “Baby cold!” He traced his fingers over one of the lightly-colored, healed scar-marks and dents on Mobius’ legs. “...Baby scared!” he realized, making sure Sylvie and Thor understood. 

Thor already knew. He recognized that discomfort, the aftermath of so much excitement built up over the day, just to come crashing down from one negative sensory experience. A classic Loki conundrum, but apparently not a Mobius one, as Sylvie’s panic was apparent. 

“And what do you suggest we do, Loki?” Sylvie asked, half just trying to help his imaginative play, and half actually curious to try the solution he proposed. 

“Uh…” Loki ran off back to the nursery and Thor curiously followed as the baby buried his face into his shoulder. 

Loki tossed the orange blanket from Mobius’ crib to Thor. 

Mobius responded by taking a corner into his mouth and trying to cover himself with the rest of it. 

That simple gesture made him quiet almost immediately. 

“Here!” Loki handed them another item: pants. A pair of regular-ol’ pajama pants which Sylvie helped slip onto the baby. 

Instant quiet. 

“Wow, look at you. First day and you’re already a better big brother than me,” Thor commented.

Loki grinned uncertainly as he looked between the members of his family. “Yeah,” he softly agreed.