#excluded no one in this story is nearly as small as I am so I keep underestimating how much space they'll need

[pathsofoak]

I tried to build Justin's house/farm in the Sims last night and I regret to announce its mental image in my head breaks the laws of physics and therefore it cannot be visualized

[scotianostra]

On August 29th1930 the population of St Kilda were evacuated from the island.

There is a common misconception that they were forced to leave their homes but after struggling to make ends meet and a dwindling population making matters worse they asked to be evacuated, the population fell from 73 in 1920 to 37 in 1928, the loss of four men to influenza in 1926 hit the islanders hard. Another fact that many don't know is that St Kilda is actually the name of the archipelago, the main island of Hirta is where they loved but there are three more islands, Dùn, Soay and Boreray.

Dùn is nearly a mile long. Its name simply means "fort" in Scottish Gaelic but the fort itself has been lost - old maps show it on Gob an Dùin, which is at the seaward end. The small island is home to the largest colony of fulmars in Britain. Dùn was at one point joined to Hirta by a natural arch, a romantic tale says it was struck by a galleon fleeing the defeat of the Spanish Armada but the general consensus is it was simply swept away by one of the many fierce storms which batter the islands every winter.

Soay is the westernmost point of land in Scotland, and also the westernmost point in the British Isles, excluding Rockall. The name is from Old Norse Seyðoy, meaning "Island of Sheep". It is unlikely that this island ever had permanent habitation. Men from Hirta would stay for a few days while gathering wool. There are two sea stacks, Stac Biorach and Stac Shoaigh between Hirta and Soay.

Boreray has the Cleitean MacPhàidein, a "cleit village" of three small bothies used on a regular basis during fowling expeditions from Hirta. Boreray is recognisable for the stacks Stac an Armin, Stac Lee that are close to it, a remarkable story about Stac an Armin, on the far left in picture two is that three men and eight boys from Hirta were marooned here from about 15 August 1727 until 13 May 1728. As luck would have it, Hirta suffered a smallpox outbreak while the eleven were on the stack, and thus the islanders were unable to man a boat and retrieve them until the next year.

Hirta is the largest island at just over 2 miles long, it was populated from prehistoric times until this day in 1930 when the 36 inhabitants were removed to Morvern on the Scottish mainland at their own request. I will leave you with this description of the day.....

"The morning of the evacuation promised a perfect day. The sun rose out of a calm and sparkling sea and warmed the impassive cliffs of Oiseval. The sky was hopelessly blue and the sight of Hirta, green and pleasant as the island of so many careless dreams, made parting all the more difficult. Observing tradition the islanders left an open Bible and a small pile of oats in each house, locked all the doors and at 7 am boarded the Harebell. Although exhausted by the strain and hard work of the last few days, they were reported to have stayed cheerful throughout the operation. But as the long antler of Dun fell back onto the horizon and the familiar outline of the island grew faint, the severing of an ancient tie became a reality and the St Kildans gave way to tears."

[aur0rahearts]

(here I go again ;w;)

could u make a little drama filled Jupiter, Mars and Y/n?

(also I hope your having an amazing day! if not, then I hope it gets better!, Keep shining like the star you are!)

*I am so sorry for taking so long 😭😭😭, I got busy but I hope the small story is good for you 🫶🏻*

⚠️TW: Depection of violence and gore⚠️

————————————

Your body hurt

Your lungs stung as your breathed in and out rapidly. Even a slight huff felt like the walls of them were collapsing. Wounds covered every inch of your body as your feet beat harshly into the ground, your legs wobbling with each thud from them.

You never thought you would run for your life, especially from your people.

Banished and chased after by your tribe because you wanted to love someone. Monsters

“I think I heard them, over there!”

You gasped as you murmured a slight “damn it” under your breath. You picked up speed, ignoring the pain that sparked throughout your body.

You could hear them catching up, and that thought was only proven when you turned around.

There, you saw four or five guys, with torches and spears, chasing after you as they yelled for you to stop running and calling you a coward.

But you didn’t stop

No matter how bad it hurt.

You turned a corner only to enter into a open area of the jungle, a giant circle where there was no more paths to take except going through the tree covered land itself.

You turned back around to see that the men had already entered the area, trapping you into that corner of the jungle.

“Thought you could get away, you coward?” One of the men taunted.

Their spears all pointed at you, as you could feel your emotions start to bubble up.

“Awe look at them, they are shaking. The poor baby must be scared.”

They all laughed at you as your body started to shake, your legs wobbling uncontrollably as tears started to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make your death quick.” The man in the middle spoke up as he raised his spear.

You put your hands up to your face, preparing for your death to come.

But it never did.

Instead, a loud growl that almost shook the area did.

You opened your eyes, not realizing you had them closed, and lifted up your head. Everyone started to look around the jungle to see where the source of that noise came from.

But all was silent again.

The man in the middle was about to take a strike at you again but a louder growl came. But this time, it was joined by a bunch of spears.

One of the spears hit the man in the middle’s leg, causing him to scream in pain as he ran away in fear. The other three started to back away until a shadowy figure jumped out of a bush and slamming onto the ground in front of them.

Crushing the man that was running away beneath him.

You gasped as you stared at the scene in front of you. The giant, shadowy figure let out another deathly growl. One that sent a shiver up your spin.

“W-what, what the hell are you?” One of the men asked as they held their spear shaking.

Before you could see the brutal scene in front of you, another figure jumped out in front of you. You nearly screamed but a gloved, torn hand closed your mouth. The figure bent down lower for you to see it’s face. It was a face you recognized too well.

“Jupiter!” You softly exclaimed, as the skeletons crooked teeth merged into a smile.

You suddenly heard the snapping of bones as Jupiter turned around. You tried to get a look at what was happening, but you couldn’t, as Jupiter swiped you up into his arms and hurriedly carried you away into the jungle.

You turned around to see that he was carrying you into a excluded area in the jungle that was only lit by a lantern that they had found. Once you arrived, he placed you down on the ground only for you to turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. Giving him kisses all over his cheek.

“Oh Jupiter! I am so happy to see you!” You exclaimed as you didn’t realize the tears that were falling down your face.

“I Am Very Happy To See That You Are Well Also, My Bunny.” He stated as he gave you a kiss on your own cheek, a slight burnt-orange colored hue on his cheek bones.

You both stayed like that for a while, until another familiar face arrived.

Mars.

A man that was covered in blood as he held a beat-up spear in his hand. You turned your head around and ran to him, not caring if the blood had gotten all over you.

“Mars!” You almost knocked him down as you kissed him in a similar fashion as you did to Jupiter. Though he did not seem to mind as he chuckled.

“Hey, sweet meat, I hope I didn’t worry ya too much while I was gone.”

You reclined back as you cupped his cheeks. Feeling the painful sting at the corner of your eyes.

“Oh, Mars…What are we going to do.” You stated as you could feel the hot tears pour down your face.

Mars gives you a sadden look as he cupped your cheeks. Jupiter coming up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist.

“It Will Be Okay Bunny.” Jupiter cooed as he nuzzled his face into your back.

“Yea, we will find a way to make this work.” Mars stated as he braced you into a hug, placing his chin on top of your head.

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will, we’ll be by your side any time sweet heart.”

“Yes! We Will Be Their For Any Challenge You Go Through, Bunny! Trust Us, It Will Work Out.”

And you did trust them, with all your life. Because in the end, it did always work out.

[the-narrators-ramblings]

Every time I think of this blog, I always go back to the beginning. Not like, mincident beginning, but like, the beginning beginning.

Last year - can you believe that? It's been nearly a year - I stumbled upon some game I'd vaguely heard about in my dad's massive list of Steam codes. And I went, "Sure. I'll give it a shot," and loved every second. I went on to get the demo just because I'd 100 percent-ed the main game, and a friend even bought me Ultra Deluxe.

Not long after, I made my way deep into the tsp tag and ran into a little askblog. It couldn't have had much more than thirty followers. But I liked this blog; the admin was cunning in a way I'd grown to somewhat expect from Stanley, and despite the few posts, there was something so fun and light-hearted about the blog that drew me in even closer.

Out of the blue, then, came a post - jokingly asking for a blog posing as the Narrator to accompany the existing Stanley one. I entertained the thought for the day, but by the next, I was setting up a brand new Tumblr.

The rest? Is history.

I know that in the grand scheme of things, this one askblog is nothing but a droplet of water in the sea that is the universe. But even if Tumblr fades into obscurity, and memories of this place fade alongside it, the impact that was made will not.

I remember, when I made this blog, it all felt so big. Now I realize that I may have just been caught up in the moment, but what a moment it was. So many of you - one hundred and sixty-six (166) as of today, March 10th, 2023, and more just keep coming.

I'm sorry to those that have joined recently, as our curtains are drawing, but I hope you've enjoyed your stay, however short it be. I'm sorry that you came across this blog as its ashes have picked up in the wind, but I am so thankful for each and every one of you, whether you've vowed to never touch a mint sandwich or you have no clue as to what that could mean.

For the individuals I cannot exclude...

ABPA, holy shit, I love you. You're like a childhood best friend, accompanying this blog as it grows and shapes and lays itself down to rest. Watching Dan run through life and cause chaos with Stanley and sing karaoke with their coworkers brought me joy I could've never realized in the moment. Thank you for being there.

WIP, my beloved, my belothed, my arch-nemisis and my muse. What would my galley be without every single little post you've made? What would I be, without them? I still have that ask saved, from when you first gave yourself a name. I still feel bad for never answering, but the relic remains, hung in a frame of gold in a private gallery. Thank you for giving me strength to keep creating.

NYNA, named with no name, the little cat that's gained permanent residency in my dash and my notifs. A voice of reason and safety in a world of uncertainty. Another wing in the taspblog art gallery, small, priceless feel-good doodles up high next to the Mona Lisa of the taskblog (whatever that may be). Thank you for the little things.

432, I'm about to be very blunt, and very honest with you. I didn't like you, at first. But over time, your goofy little personality attached itself to me, like a little parasite growing harmless gumdrops in my garden. You didn't even need a blog to make yourself an essential part of the story. Thank you for being the book without a cover.

For those I couldn't make this post even more of a mouthful for, I still thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, named anons, not-named anons, and those who just liked and reblogged (don't think I forgot about you, Stanley-Central).

And of course, Ivan. Without you, this blog would have never existed in the first place. Without you, this community would have never come together. Without you, who would we be?

Thank you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being you.

[lemonhemlock]

I just discovered your account and am so glad you also like Aegon. The reason why I like him it's not him behaving terribly, but "I try so hard but it's never enough for you and father". I mean, I am probably the only one who before the show aired watched Domina and was TGC fan and haven't heard about Ewan Mitchell. I am aware I am in minority there, but I prefer Aegon over Aemond just because of this 1 line. This line did such things to me, like I am also the firstborn child, all expectations lying on my shoulders all my life, whatever I do I am accused of not trying hard enough (in my parents' opinion) even though I have always had more successes in school, at university and now at work than my 2 younger siblings but you know, they can do something with 0 effort and they are great even though they do things without any sort of commitment, just to get job done and parents are like yes, they are so brilliant. And the whole thing with bullied and maimed Aemond, who then became great with sword and studied a lot while having Alicent's love and Criston support all the time and then you have Aegon who hasn't even 1 parent supporting him. Like both Rhaenyra and Aemond have 1 parent who has their back and Aegon has no one. To me Aegon (excluding rape and fighting pits) who drinks a lot is far more relatable than Aemond would ever be. Like, how many children felt they are not enough for their parents? I have met lots of people who are like Aegon: they have 1 parent who is neglectful, emotionally unavailable and often even physically absent and 2 parent who puts lots of pressure on child.

Another thing that I hate is saying Aemond is far better than Aegon because he doesn't visit brothels, doesn't have bastards and who isn't sulking loser. While Aegon has the strongest bond with dragon than Aemond, participated in battle against Meleys until he nearly burned to death and then managed to heal enough to hide somewhere and then kill Rhaenyra. What Aemond did? Okay, he helped Aegon with Meleys, but he joined at the end of fight where Meleys was tired and somehow weaker because of fighting Sunfyre so it wasn't hard for Vhagar to kill her and then he took army to trap and instead of returning to KL with Cole he chose to stay at Riverlands and burned them with such success that he didn't get rid of Blacks army and after he burned it basically whole army was in tact. Aemond is basically the reason they lost because he couldn't wait for Daeron to return from Old Town and left KL undefended and still people say he is so great, better material than Aegon at everything. Like Aegon and Sunfyre fought against much older and stronger dragon Meleys and the most experienced dragonrider out there Rhaenys, he was nearly burned to death so he will suffer much more than Aemond did after losing his eye because it was stated steel from Aegon's armour basically melted into his skin so it's hell more painful than just losing an eye (not to mention how much of pain it takes to have even small part of your body burned by fire and Aegon was basically burned from head to toe so burned skin from all his body parts caused him lots of suffering) and then he has a fight with Beala and Moondancer (if I remember correctly) and to save himself he has to jump out of seddle and as result he breaks both of his legs and then he returns to KL and is informed his sons and brothers and almost all allies apart from Tyland Lannister and of course Alicent and his only daughter died and then you tell me Aemond story is better/more amazing/more tragic just because he doesn't visit brothels and doesn't rape women? It's such a shame they didn't portray Aemond as one who wanted to kill Luke. What will they do with Riverlands? Make Aemond say no Vhagar no again because they like him so much? I just don't like when people point out at Aegon, say he is undeserving of love and no wonder Alicent is this way to him. No one says Alicent is not great parent. She does the same thing as Viserys - shows favouritism towards Aemond (and in future most likely to Daeron), cares about Helaena and treats Aegon as the worst thing that happened to her after she married Viserys. I will root for TGC and his portrayal of Aegon and I love how he is committed to his role even though no one beside him is.

Another old ask, so not sure if anon is still hanging around here, because I suspect my version of Aegon is a little edgier; that's if they had the chance to parse through my blog and discover that for themselves. 😅

That being said, I'm glad to see Aegon resonates with more people out there. He really could have a lot of potential to become a compelling and relatable character. The first child overwhelmed by his parents' huge expectations placed on his shoulders, who turns to substance abuse and hedonism later in life as a tool to drown out his intrusive thoughts and feelings of being inadequate and a disappointment? Kings of Westeros - they're just like you and me!

My penultimate post and the hotd critical [aegon] tag probably cover a lot of points raised in this message. However, I think anon is being a little too critical of Alicent and a little too indulgent with Aegon, coloured by their own personal experiences. Alicent and Aegon do not inhabit our world; young people today have a much wider palette of choices when it comes to their career and how they want to live their lives; social mobility is a lot better in late stage capitalism (with all its flaws) than it was within a system based on vassalage and manorialism. Alicent is harsh with Aegon not for shits and giggles or because she wants bragging rights for having a "successful" son; their lives literally depend on this and Aegon is decidedly not taking anything seriously. Alicent can't turn to Aemond or Daeron to fulfill this duty, because that's literally not how the law and succession works.

And the whole thing with bullied and maimed Aemond, who then became great with sword and studied a lot while having Alicent's love and Criston support all the time and then you have Aegon who hasn't even 1 parent supporting him. Like both Rhaenyra and Aemond have 1 parent who has their back and Aegon has no one.

Aegon would have Alicent and Criston supporting him if he put in a modicum of effort, but I don't think he even shows up to sword training because he is too hungover, not to mention studying anything.

Aemond burning the Riverlands is a wider problem with the Dance and is honestly authorial fault. Burning the Riverlands should have been an effective tactic, yet they don't seem to have any supply or transit issues and they manage to conscript a second army later on (out of what? dead peasants?). I think we can all agree that is faintly ridiculous and not something to be pinned on Aemond, a character George devised just so he could have a foil to this fave Daemon. Aemond needs to be in the Riverlands because that's where Daemon is and George really wants his Attack on Titan battle scene.

Moreover, neither the military battles or the division of allies can be explained by resorting to logic. I'm wary to see this as character fault as much as it is a worldbuilding problem.

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

what is something everyone should know about your muses before interacting? for sanzo and saru

Multimuse Asks || Currently Accepting!

Nearly impossible to ship with. To be honest, most of my muses are difficult to seduce, but Sanzo in particular is one that deserves a massive disclaimer in neon lights beaming over his head at all times. Yes, he is pretty. Yes, he is charming(??). But because of the way he was raised and just his overall personality, chances to actually sail for Romance Island with him start in the negative with just about any and all muses, OC or canon.

At the same time, I do not say no to people trying to ship with him. See, it's not that I do not want to, it's just that I, as a mun, cannot think of a scenario or a way through his heart that would bring him to develop romantic feelings for anybody.

I am always here waiting for that mysterious RP partner who will surprise me with a story I haven't managed to come up with to have that change!

Now, with that said, as an asexual myself (not aro, but still), to hear "you just need to find the right person" makes me groan inside. So that's not what I am trying to say about Sanzo. I'm saying that as a writer constantly learning and exploring, I do not have the arrogance to believe I have figured out my muse 100% to the point of excluding any and all ships with him without trying.

Regardless, Sanzo is a very deep character who is very capable of feeling other forms of love, which is shown in the manga and the show alike. I am honestly all up for all that too. So I guess the TLDR of this is: if you engage him with shipping intent, you may end up disappointed, but there is so much more to explore with Sanzo in terms of relationships!

Now I'm gonna try my best to answer this one without coming across as a salty asshole. But Saruhiko is NOT the Fushimi Saruhiko you see in Episode 5 of Season 1 of K Project 24/7. I understand that not many fans can bother looking up the manga scanlations, or even better the novel of Lost Small World (or all the other ones), but Season 1 of K Project is absolutely not what you should use as a reference when approaching Fushimi.

He is not a psychotic yandere with bloodlust and a creepy grin all the time. That is just a mask he wears when confronting Yata, and it only lasts from the time he leaves Homra up to the death of Mikoto Suoh. Most of the time, he is a very grumpy, lazy and overall unmotivated young man who hasn't figured out what he really wants to do with himself.

It is really really difficult for me when I am approached by anime-only fans who expect my muse to go psycho and stalk them for attention when he absolutely has no reason to do so. If your muse is not Yata Misaki and our point in timeline is not the one I mentioned earlier, don't come looking for that experience. I will let you down.

[happyk44]

[ID: 1. Tumblr post from @/tryworks dated April 11th 2023: what they don't tell you about growing up as a very lonely little girl that you grow up and still a part of you remains that very lonely little girl

2. Tumblr post from @/stuckinapril dated October 8th 2023: I love being alone [left arrow] girl who has known nothing but loneliness her entire life and so has no choice but to take comfort in it

3. Tumblr post from @/i-do-it-for-the-horde dated November 13th 2022: I just prefer being alone = my self isolation is a trauma response that started in childhood

4. Tumblr post from @/heavensickness: There's a little girl in my head and she screams "unloved! unloved! unloved!" every moment of my life

5. Tumblr post from @/gingerbronson. Post text has been edited in the description for readability: I was such a sad lonely little girl. Sometimes I feel like the rest of me got bigger but the inside of me is still the girl on the playground with no friends... Sometimes when I walk around I feel like one Big Tear

6. Tumblr post from deactivated user @/schaduwen: I post for the girls who were lonely and isolated during peak social developmental years

7. Tumblr user @/snakeautistic dated November 7th 2023: People understimate how much it fuck you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn't care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remembering posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the way we thought couldn't be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn't feel as real as I'd hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me.

8. Tumblr post from @/feral-ballad dated November 7th 2023: I wanted to be chosen, maybe loved. I wanted out of my life, out of my skin,

[bold] Suand Abulhawa, [end bold] from [italics] Against the Loveless World: A Novel [end italics]

9. Tumblr post from @/theoptia dated May 31st 2023: [italics] I wish I could embrace the girl that I am and love her. [end italics]

[indent line] [bold] Margueite Duras, [end bold] from [italics] The Easy Life [end italics]

10. Tumblr post from @/weltenwellen dated August 27th 2023: A picture of a young girl in a white shirt and blue jeans crouching in a green grassy field peppered with yellow flowers. Her back is facing the viewer. She is gazing out to the trees in the distance. Outstretched in one hand she is hold a small bundle of yellow flowers.

Above her head, text reads, "She is still inside of me." Beneath her the caption finishes with, "I carry her with me where I go.

Under the image is a link that reads jessczapalskipoetry. /end ID]

[unmeisenshi]

This chapter has a lot of what we in the writing business call...

EXPOSITION

So I hope you brought a snack. It's a long one.

Florence was the first to wake up from her nap, stretching and looking around. She noticed Zappa was awake, laying with their hooves neatly tucked in while Remi and Ann continued to snooze. The only one missing was…

“Louis… Where’s Louis?”

“I was asleep as well, and didn't see him leave, but I can sense him in the city. He’s with Morello at the moment. I didn’t want to leave you, Remi, and Ann alone.” Zappa said, looking back out into the misty rain.

“I… See.” Florence stood up, and walked over to the deer God, leaning against their body. “You seem anxious.”

“Wh… How did you...” Zappa started, trying to come up with a convincing lie and failing. They eventually sighed. “Is… Is it that obvious?”

“Come on, now. I’ve raised nearly a dozen kids in my years being alive. Something like that doesn't sneak by me.”

Zappa laughed nervously before continuing. “Yes, I am. It’s… About my sister. I just… I feel foolish to have let this happen.”

Florence lightly rubbed Zappa’s leg. “Hey. We all make mistakes. We just gotta learn from them and keep on keeping on.”

“It’s… It’s not like that.” Zappa shifted uncomfortably. “This situation… This… Crisis… It’s happened before.”

Now it was the Umbreon’s turn to shift nervously. “This has happened before?”

Zappa sighed, and looked down. “It is time I tell the full story…” The Deer God went quiet for a moment before continuing. “This struggle between me and my sister has lasted for centuries. The battle always ends the same - with myself calling on that timeline’s Team Destiny to fight, with Zane and Solaris usually at the forefront. Then LaPlante unfortunately forms Infinity and destroys the universe. I then have to expend my power to reset the timeline, and go into a millenia long slumber.”

“Wait… That timeline’s Team Destiny? There are more of us?”

Zappa nodded. “Yes. This timeline is the 3197th iteration. The events in each timeline play out exactly the same, with small changes each time. In this timeline, I chose to pick humans to fill in important roles, like Zane. But… LaPlante chose to play dirty, and changed the course of history this time around to get a leg up.”

Florence tilted her head, remaining silent until her ears dropped. “Zane…”

“Precisely. Zane was never meant to die. They were meant to be right here with us. In returning the other Zane and Phoebe to their timeline… I discovered their home is the timeline in which events here progressed smoothly… How things were meant to be. But the simple change of Zane dying has thrown things into disarray.”

Florence looked away, her breath taken away at the things she was hearing. She composed herself before continuing. “But… Why include LaPlante? Why can’t she be excluded?”

Zappa looked away, and sighed once more. “I cannot recall which fight, but… She made a move that connected my soul and hers. She is a Singularity - in this case, a fixed point in time. She can still die, but… since she is the main Singularity, if she dies, then I die as well.”

Florence looked away. “That dirty…” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence. “How do we beat her then? If we kill her, then…”

Zappa looked down at their body, and took a deep breath. “Then I will cease to exist. In the final battle, I give some of my power to Zane, to hopefully get an advantage. But since Zane isn’t here… We’ll have to rely on Solaris. He’s the strongest physically, but I worry that the weight of my plan may be too much for him to handle.”

“Plan?” Florence asked.

“In order to keep the integrity of this world safe… I intend to transfer all of my power to Solaris.”

-

The first to arrive back to the 9th floor was Morello, who was soaking wet from the rain, followed soon after by Ross and Solaris. The four all looked at each other, with Morello starting first. “I found some containers with meats, berries, and other veggies. The Farmer’s Market building was completely untouched.”

“I filled my back up with as much as I could,” Solaris said. “Berries, wheat, potatoes, vegetables. Enough to last us for a while.” The Charizard rustled his pack, and gave the faintest smirk. “We’ll be covered until we reach Gaea or Atropos.”

Avett then nodded. “Good. Yauch’s fever seems to be dropping, and Byrne is stable, and his bullet wound is patched up and healing nicely. Now we just have to wait for-”

“Me?”

The group turned around to the nearby balcony, seeing Audie carrying two pods, and blood staining his fur. A large cut was visible on his right bicep. The pods in his hand were clearly hiding a larger injury, as noted by the blood stain that was a lighter shade of red. “Ross… That bandit group… Won’t be bothering you anymore…”

“Oh Gods!” Ross ran up to Audie, gently taking the pods from his hands. It was here that she got a good look at Audie’s wound: a large gash that was bleeding profusely. “What the heck happened?!” She asked, looking the wound over.

“It’s… Nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“Like hell you are! Go sit over there!” She pointed to the same chair that Solaris sat in to get stitched up. The Sylveon then looked at Avett. “Blood bags are in that closet. I’ll be right back.” She said, picking the pods up and booking it towards the steps.

“You heard the lady. Go sit, I’ll get you stitched up.” Avett said, gently leading Audie to the chair so he could begin sewing his wound shut.

[javacadoz-and-her-town]

Ghosts Pt. 1

There was once a school. Schools are quite unusual things, as they are places in which children are not exactly at home, but certainly spend more time there than at home. Well, I suppose, that really depends on the definition you imbue into the word “home”. I could, of course, go into an excessively elborate essay on the differences between “home” and “house”, as well as the manner in which associations are tied to words, but that would draw us away from the story at hand, using all common definitions of words, to avoid confusion.

This particular school had a library (this is a common thing in schools), and taught only humans (most schools do this). Humans are immortal. There is scarcely anything more immortal than the human soul, and it is a great misfortune that their world happens to be horribly, horribly mortal. One may wonder what will happen to souls when their planet dies. No one knows much on the laws of souls and their attachments. 

Humans have two phases in their lives. In one they have permanent bodies, which are also mortal. This is the minor part of their lives. The golden ages, like childhood. This is when their minds are at full capability and the eternal beg for release from existence is not nearly so pronounced as in the second stage of their lives. Speaking of the second stage! It is the second stage that humans mourn. The loss of mortality. What an interesting thing to crave. Mortality. Other creatures aim for survival, seem to welcome the idea of immortality. Yet humans mourn it. Their progression into permanent immortality may be slightly dampened in the area of intelligence, of recognition, but the assurance that their species will continue till and perhaps after the end of Earth should be comforting, and not justify the amounts of grief and mourning that humans portray. 

And they go to schools. Schools with libraries in them. And they learn many things. But most importantly they have electives. And there can be electives offered at any given 45 minute point from 8 am to 3 pm excluding lunch and small breaks. And one said elective is called “Library Aid” (the name is self-explanatory). The attendees of these schools range from being in their 13th or 18th year of their first phase.

For further understanding, I must now introduce myself. As most of you know, I am one of your fellow ghosts. I have been researching humans for my thesis and I found this to be a very compelling story for the Journal on Human Habits, Activities, and Other Interesting Quirks (the JHHAOIQ. A slight mouthful but still shorter than its full title). I intend for it to be unforgettable. 

It is worth mentioning, before we dive into this story, that humans often refer to their own species in the second phase as “ghosts”. It should be general knowledge that the first of our species made sure that humans did so to disguise us for survival. They call places we explore “haunted”, assuming that it is a living space. It is often the least haunted places that harbour the homes of ghost and matured humans, according to Steepling’s Layering Theorem. (I explain this because I anticipate even those uneducated among us will enjoy this story). Without further ado, let us begin. 

[bellybean315]

This isn’t a WIP, just a practice thing, someone give me some constructive criticism

The ballroom is unlike anything I have ever seen. Of course, I hadn’t seen many buildings that were probably made with real gold. Columns engraved with climbing golden vines stretched up to the ceiling, which was a large glass dome that allowed the soft pinks and blues of sunset to spill inward. The floor is made of mahogany and cherry wood pieces, puzzled together to form a repeating mosaic of the seasons: Blossoms for spring, turban shells for summer, fallen maple leaves for fall, and two hundred individually unique snowflakes for the winter. As much as I despised the monarchy, I could appreciate the intense craftsmanship, and budget, that must have gone into this room.

I enter cautiously, avoiding any attention that might be drawn to me, but everyone seems to have flocked to their separate cliques and I don’t see a single head turn in my direction. I’m only slightly disappointed, mostly because of my vanity. The dress I had stolen was thick velvet in a gorgeous shade of blood red (I found this detail quite amusing considering my line of work), with golden lace trim. The neckline dropped low into my cleavage, revealing more than I was used to, and sloped off my bronze shoulders. I had stained my cheeks and lips with cherries and lined my eyes with charcoal from the fire in sweeping wings so my they looked like that of a feline. Half of my choppy blonde hair was swept up behind my head to keep it, excluding two decorative strands, from falling in my face. I don’t think I’ve ever looked so beautiful in my life. Even still, I can’t let such a simple thing distract me from what I’m here for; her.

She, Princess Alice of Alejagia, that is, seemed to be late to her own party. I had no doubt she would make an appearance sometime during the evening, her parents would probably kill her before I got the chance if she decided to skip it, but I doubt it would be anytime soon. Thankfully, I am a very patient woman.

I set my post in a far corner near the refreshments where I had a clear view of the door. Nice wooden chairs lined the walls for ladies with aching toes and tight chests from heeled shoes and restricting corset laces. I, for one, have worn comfortable leather boots, which are hidden in the four layers of thick fabric beneath my dress, and have tightened my corset an appropriate amount, so as to not break a rib or pop a lung. One might call me practical, another might call me “not a masochist”. I sit and adjust my skirts to fill the seats within a radius of me. A servant passes by with a tray of champagne glasses filled with bubbling rose-colored liquid and I stand to take one. I thank him and sit back down.

As the night creeps in and chandeliers are lit, I take small sips of my champagne. It makes my brain feel fuzzy though, so most of my time is spent watching the bubbles bounce up and down. Finally, nearly two hours past the beginning of the ball, she arrives.

Despite having never seen the princess before, I knew her as soon as she stepped in the doors. For one, every single head, crowned or uncrowned, braided or curled, turned to face the door. For another, it seemed every story and description I had ever heard about her was true. They say she resembles a fox, so much so that many believe her to be a shapeshifter. And it was true; her reddish auburn hair, when it caught the light just right, revealed patches of white. Her eyes were almonds, in shape and color, slanted inward and narrow in the tear duct. Her skin was pale and freckled, showcased by what little makeup she seemed to be wearing. Her gown is made of what appears to be one hundred yards of twilight navy fabric, covered in midnight tulle that was showered in rhinestones and caught the moonlight perfectly. Her sleeves puffed out and fell from her shoulders, also flaunting diamond constellations. There were pearls threaded into the waves of her hair, which fell, unrestrained, over her shoulders and far down her back.

I suddenly think she will be easier to keep an eye on than anticipated because I can’t seem to look away. The biggest complication will be getting her alone.

A swarm of people surround her, but still maintain distance, as if her royalty was some sort of forcefield. From her bodice, she pulls what I assume is a dance card and hands it to the nearest gentleman. He eagerly signs his name down and passes it to the next. I consider, for a moment, signing up to dance before remembering the impropriety of two women dancing together, and the amount of notice that would cause. So I wait. About four dances in, I grow bored of sitting and instead hover around the desserts with a dish and a strawberry in my hand.

Princess Alice has danced with fourteen different gentlemen to fourteen different songs in the matter of an hour and a bit, before expressing exhaustion and dismissing herself. My muscles tense in preparation, having waited all night for this. I follow a short distance behind into a dark corridor, dimly lit by the occasional candle, most of which were only stubs of wax and wick. The princess is easy to follow by the clicking of her shoes on the wooden floor. My boots don’t make a sound. I creep up behind her and in a swift grab, pin her to the wall with my knee. I slip my hand into the slit I had made in the ruby fabric and pull out my dagger. Quickly, I press it to her throat. She tilts her head up.

“I assume you intend to kill me,” she says, accent delicate and quiet. She does not shout for help.

“Indeed.”

She is quiet, still. In an instant, I become hyper-aware of our proximity. My leg presses against her thigh and one of my hands has her wrist pinned to the wall. I can feel her shaky breaths in my hair, as she is taller than me. My heart flutters. I have had too much champagne, I think. I become aware of how exposed the soft flesh of her neck is, how easy it would be to mar such pale skin. As if to test it, I put pressure on my blade. A warm drop of blood springs from beneath it. It trickles down her throat and drops onto my dress, fading into the fabric. I release the pressure and drop the dagger. She heaves a breath. I dont back away, instead I push closer to her. I kick the heels off her feet and she drops to a height closer to my own. Now I can meet her eyes.

There is a brief moment of ‘what am I doing’ before I have my hand in her hair and my lips are on hers. As I slowly come to and realize what it is that I am doing, I make to pull away. Before I can though, her unrestrained arm has snaked around to yank me closer. She kisses me back with a ferocity I would have never imagined from someone like her, and I match her pace. I release her wrist from the wall to wrap my arm around her waist and tug her closer. Her other hand finds its way into my hair. I am pulling us closer, pushing past petticoats and velvet and tulle, until we are as close as our dresses will allow. I can faintly hear pearls clattering to the floor, knocked off by my fingers. She is tugging at my hair and it is all I can do to not make a sound, but I think she feels the effect of her actions in the huffing breaths that I release.

Suddenly there is a sharp pain in my shoulder. I can feel the warmth drain from my body and condense in my arm. A stream of it trickles down. I release the princess and step back. Looking down I see the pin from my hair sticking out of my shoulder.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” I mutter.

Princess Alice smiles innocently and walks backward down the hall, red on her throat and shoes in her hand. From here I can see the damage I had done to her dress and her hair. The cherry from my lips had left a smudge around her mouth. A small sense of pride rises inside of me.

“Let’s do this again sometime, shall we? I quite enjoyed myself.” She calls back as she continues down the hall. Before turning the corner she turns back and points to the ledge behind me. “There’s a ladder just out that window.” And then she disappears.

[shiroi---kumo]

He's tried to find a place where he could relax until Cid calls for him and he could not return to that damnedable bed in the medical wing that he's been trapped in for far too long. He is of proper health status excluding the issues Cid seems to be having with his mask, so that means he will stay to his own quarters (where he can be surrounded by his treasures) or in a more public space where he can exist in peace.

He told Eversti and Miss Riza to go rest and Cid has told him to do the same, so for now he will find himself in the dining hall to enjoy cooking that has not been made in a survivalist manner and contains actual flavor. The swordsman has also taken the time to retrieve a book from his quarters. It is one that has a bitter sense to it because it is one that he discovered amongst the wreckage of a destroyed town that fell by Gaudium's hands (his hands.)

The very least he could do is honor them by reading their literature. It wasn't as if he wanted to take their lives but a small putrid pink dictator had demanded otherwise.

So jade moons find themselves engrossed in the text - it seemed to be a fantasy novel. Something about a forgotten king facing off against a great dark with their own dark helper at his side. Something about being armed with celestial weapons made from stars and it all sounds like quite the fantasy. He's enjoying it thoroughly and it is a nice distraction from the unfortunate news that he was just given only hours prior.

The tea from earlier has been traded out for a mug of hot chocolate and there is a half eaten pastry setting on a plate next to it as the Misterican finds his nose sliding deeper and deeper into the book in his in hands. One would think that he would grow tired of reading after spending nearly two weeks with only that as an option for entertainment but it is different when you can read what you want to and not just what you are given.

A hand absent mindedly is reaching for the mug to his left and bringing to his lips. Eyes never looking away from the page lest he lose his place. This tale has to be one of his favorites he's found so far and he's quite curious as to how it ends...

The sound of a voice coupled with his name floats into his ears and snaps him back into the reality of that is Wonderland and the Misterican picks up the neatly cut piece of paper he's sat to the side and slips inside the tome so he does not lose his place in the story. Jade eyes are turning to face the Amestrian and with upturned browns and a bit of a frown he sighs.

"Ah Miss Riza, no need for apologies. I am glad you rested well. I have spoken to Cid and I am - I am most distressed. He still refuses to return my mask to me. He did a test or two while I was there and did not like his findings so he refused me once again."

He's shifting to take a long drink from his now lukewarm mug of coco and his cheeks puff out ever so slightly to show his 'distress'.

"I attempted to explain to him the dilemma that I am becoming a danger with my inability to control my Mist but he wouldn't hear of it. I suppose I am feeling rather ... dismissed. He simply does not understand the dangers of a Misterican who is existing in an unmasked state, I - "

His hand is over his mouth as if to stop himself from talking, brows raising and eyes getting slightly wider as he does.

"Oh My. Listen to me. I did not mean to drop my emotional issues on you like that. That was rather discourteous of me. I apologize. But regardless of that - please set down. There is no need to wake Eversti if he is finally sleeping. Rest is important for recovery after all and you all have had quite a bit to adjust to in past days. As of now, I will remain maskless. Cid seems to be unwilling to budge on the subject."

He took slow sips of his tea, letting the now lukewarm liquid keep him awake. Asking why he felt so tired was a silly question with obvious answers said in both his sons' voices. "Yer not sleepin' much, dumbass." Or, "You're too busy worrying about everyone else but yourself as usual, Dad." Well, Alphonse, he had a good reason to be worried about White Cloud---several, in fact, and he was the cause of a few. The day he stopped worrying over the Lieutenant would be the day he died, and not a minute sooner, so that was out. Then there was Anger, the Brigadier General, Atlas, and everyone else at the Comodeen...

And, of course, he worried for his boys. Wherever the hell they were.

Edward, in his typical, blunt fashion, was right. How much sleep did he get since he got to Wonderland? Not enough. It was a wonder he didn't fall asleep sooner in this room with all of White Cloud's Mist.

Thankfully, White Cloud didn't object to the Lieutenant's presence at their future recreation of his death---there had to be a better way to word that. Ability testing? Sure, he could go with that for now. Roy gave White Cloud a nod of his head to show he listened. All of them could show off, as it were, and see what they were all capable of. His alchemy could do all sorts of things, and he had no doubt the same could be said for White Cloud's Mist. The two of them would also get to witness the best shooter in all of Amestris---in his humble opinion---in action. His Lieutenant was the envy of all units, even Briggs, with the quickest draw, sharpest eye, and deadliest accuracy from the furthest distances.

And that was only some of what she was capable of. He could sit and brag about her all day. Bragging would have to come later, though.

White Cloud's words caught Roy's attention, and the Flame found himself raising an eyebrow once again. Herra was likely the equivalent of Mister in his language, which made sense. That wasn't what gave him pause, no. He was doing it again: apologizing for something he didn't have to, for something that wasn't his fault. He could hardly be blamed for the circumstances in battle and for keeping his mask off. Another apology followed for his Mist affecting the both of them---was it that obvious? The thought to rebut the apology came to mind, but it quickly left. Now wasn't the time. No, he wasn't at fault for being Misterican and his Mist filling a room, nor what happened on the battlefield, but the normally combative Colonel had too little processing power left to argue that.

"All right. I'm glad you liked it, White Cloud." Why was the Lieutenant able to respond quicker than him? Probably because she took the academy's words seriously about being a well-rested soldier and always prepared. He used to roll his eyes at her for that, but, considering how much she carried the team since they were in the East, he couldn't fault her for it. Even with an emotional outburst from her, she fared better than him, and she soon rose to her feet to offer him a hand. With a heavy sigh, he took it, and she tugged him up to stand.

"Do I really look that bad?" White Cloud vanished to talk to Cid, leaving the two of them to leave the room of their own accord. The Lieutenant, with his coat still around her shoulders, began walking toward their rooms.

"You looked like you pulled an all-nighter sitting at your desk. And your eyes look glazed over like you've been staring at paperwork for hours."

"Ugh, don't mention that word."

"It's not going to suddenly appear because I said it."

"We don't know that. This is Wonderland. Maybe that's how things work here."

"Somehow, Sir, I doubt that." The two of them arrived at his room first. "I'll be down the hall as usual. If you wake up first, let me know."

"Likewise. Oh, and keep my coat for now. I know you get cold easier than I do."

"Are you sure, Sir?" It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. His answer was to walk into his room and all but collapse onto his mattress without a word. She let out a sigh and closed his door. A nap sounded wonderful.

To her surprise, Riza woke before the Colonel. After tidying her bedhead, and folding the Colonel's coat, she left her room only to find him not up and about. She did not hear his voice echoing off the walls of the Comodeen as she walked, nor did she hear his footsteps. Strange. With few exceptions, he rose before her due to how little sleep he always got. Never more than four or five hours at a time, which was why he napped so often during the day, and in odd places.

Was this White Cloud's Mist at work? If so, and more than four or five hours passed, she might just let the Colonel sleep more.

Speaking of the Misterican, he did not look pleased. As she walked into the room, she noticed two things right off the bat: he did not have his mask, and he seemed... angry wasn't the right word. Anger was too strong of an emotion, she thought. Still, that did not stop Riza from approaching him with caution, giving him a wave before she spoke.

"Sorry for sleeping so long." She assumed it was a long time anyway. "The Colonel is still resting, and I'm inclined to let him for now. Is everything all right, White Cloud?"

[mayakern]

Hey I’m about to send a really long message, but I’d really appreciate getting a quick, honest response.

I’m in law school and in a few weeks I’m presenting to a law firm about how they need to take artists and their legal rights more seriously, and I’d also like to mention how they need to support smaller creators in more niche groups.

Specifically, I want to pitch to them that it would be financially viable for them to start working with smaller artists who sell their own art as merchandise. In my opinion, people shouldn’t be able to steal art from other creators, but I’m aware that most lawyers only see creators as “starving artists” and aren’t willing to go through the process of helping artists learn their rights. On the other hand, artists think that the legal process will be too expensive and time consuming, so it’s not worth it to pursue the art thieves beyond asking for help from fans.

I’d love to hear your experiences with art theft or anything about how small creators can/can’t thrive in the market today. Just any opinions you may have. Also if you know any other digital artists or small business owners who might have experiences even remotely related to anything I’ve touched on, I’d love to talk to them too.

oh i’ve experienced tons of theft and i think most artists who make merch have as well. one of the more common thefts is enamel pins — factories will sell off lower quality versions that they can’t send directly to the maker, or an old pin mold, or factories will just take pics of existing enamel pins and run them through live trace to make knockoffs. if you haven’t already, you should look into tuesday bassen and the other artists who had their pin designs stolen by zara. they were ultimately able to prove damages because their names/logos were on the backside of the pin and zara removed those identifiers. it’s why i always recommend that anyone who wants to make enamel pins should put their artist name/logo on the back.

currently, my most stolen pin designs are these elemental girls:

they constantly turn up as knock offs on aliexpress, wish, and similar places, but the quality isn’t nearly as good and they always exclude the earth pin because it’s too difficult to replicate (there are a lot of small fills in this design, which is difficult and, as the maker/buyer, expensive). they’re stolen so commonly that if you google “elemental girl enamel pin” you can find not only my originals, but tons of knockoffs, and every time i get one listing taken down, five more pop up elsewhere.

knockoffs like these are disheartening both because my work is being stolen, but also because it is being done so poorly. it really makes my art look like shit. i’m lucky in that i am no longer struggling as an artist so knockoffs like these, while annoying, are not that damaging to me. when i was younger and extremely broke, it was a different story, especially when the work being ripped off was much more… personal.

i used to make short hashtag relatable comics about myself/my life and this one in particular became very popular and was constantly ripped off/stolen — i’ve seen it on bags, water bottles, shirts, and all manner of other products. i’ve seen it used to promote other people’s projects and social media presences (all without credit or permission). and ofc it’s been copied, referenced, and edited to hell and back. i don’t usually super mind people using my work as reference as long as they credit me. but with this particular comic, it is extremely grating to, time and again, see people take a comic about my relationship with my fat body and change it to be fitspo or midsize positive or whatever else — and ofc none of them give credit until prompted by ppl who recognize my work as the skeleton.

anyway this is as much brain power as i can muster off the cuff and quickly (what you wanted). if you have more specific questions feel free to email me at mayagkern@ gmail.com

[starsfic]

MksDadshipping when they adopted a 5-year-old Xiaotian, who unlike the others clamoring to get picked by the other potential adoptees; he was happily busy making a drawing of monkey king, who then gets adopted.

(Bonus if Tang is the first to go to the little boy soon Pigsy then Wukong follows)

"And here's the main yard!" the guide said brightly.

The yard was full of children.

"Wow," Wukong said, looking around. He was in his human form- a handsome blonde man, his tail hidden under the yellow jacket wrapped around his wrist. "There's a...lot." His voice was filled with grief for the poor children.

Tang knew he wanted them all.

"Remember," Pigsy said. He had the same longing look Wukong had. "Just one."

"I'm not going to do anything!"

A little girl stopped and waved. Tang couldn't help but wave back. "That's Yue!" the guide, a peppy young woman said. Yue ran off before Tang could say anything but he heard Wukong make a chirp. Before the guide could glance back in confusion, Pigsy had clamped a hand over his mouth.

The tour continued on and on, finally leading into a big solar. A few children were tending to the flowers while two played chess. “I hope you’ll be able to find the right fit,” the tour guide said, clearly allowing them to interact.

Tang certainly hoped so.

-_-

Tang sat down with a sigh.

Wukong was talking to the little girls who had been tending to the flowers. Some of the smaller children were crawling over Pigsy. The sight warmed his heart. It was hard to pick one of these kids-

He nearly startled when he glanced over.

A small child, looking to be about five, sat on the other side of the table. A big red bow kept dark hair out of their face. Crayons were scattered across the side, excluding the yellow one they held and drew across the paper. In the crook of an elbow was a monkey plush.

And, now that Tang looked, a familiar monkey grinned up at him.

It was clearly a child's drawing. But it was done with careful precision as if they had been drawing Wukong for a while. “That’s a lovely picture,” Tang said. The child looked up, revealing big brown eyes that reminded him of all the baby monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain. “Do you like Sun Wukong?” he asked.

The child beamed. “I do!” they said brightly, holding up their plush monkey. “He’s so cool and powerful!” 

Tang couldn’t help a beam. “Well, I am a scholar of Sun Wukong.” The child cocked their head curiously. “That means I know all of his stories.” That got a happy gasp.

“Really?!”

“Yes!” Wukong was looking up, head cocked curiously. When Tang returned his gaze to the child, he was nudging Pigsy “Once, on his journey to bring back the tripitaka...”

-_-

"Excuse me?" The tour guide turned at his question. "May I ask about that child?" Tang nodded to the child, still drawing but now talking to Wukong, leaning against Pigsy. All three of them looked content.

"That's Qi Xiaotian!" she said brightly. Her smile was softer, more genuine. "They're a very happy child if a little lonely, I think." Tang nodded. That answered his first question. Now for the second question.

"They said something about their parents coming back for them?"

The smile dropped. "I cannot share all the details." Her voice was icy cold. "But I hope they never do, not with how that poor child was found."

The meaning was clear.

"So," Tang started. He didn't care. He knew who was his new baby, even if he hadn't talked it over with Pigsy and Wukong. "What's the next step?"

The smile returned.

"Allow me to arrange an interview."

[lunaastoir]

fluff/relationships w the mondstadt crew

characters included: diluc, kaeya, and jean

gn! reader as always <3

tw: fluff??? domesticity??? crack??? ideal relationships w people who will never be real??? also mentions of alcohol!

an: so i’m back w a sequel to my “fluff/relationships w the liyue crew” since you guys seemed to really like it <3 thank you my heart is literally melting 😩 this post was getting too long so i excluded some of the characters but expect a part. 2 (more like part 3 but part 2 to the mondstadt version)! 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

diluc

man. this MAN.

that’s it, that’s the headcanon. 

he would literally be the most doting lover in the softest ways

SUCH a soft romantic like you thought you knew love??? nah this man will show you what love is

will constantly leave you things around the winery to convey his silent thank you’s and appreciation for you putting up with him being busy for most of the day

it’s always the most thoughtful things ever too like-

you mentioned how nice it would be to have some fresh lemonade with the hotter weather outside but it was too late in the day to actually go to the market in search of fresh lemons 

the next day you walked downstairs only to be greeted with a pitcher of cool lemonade with a side of lemon bars

there was a note attached to the handle of the pitcher <3 

“i recall you mentioning how lemonade would be perfect for the warmer weather so i decided to make some for you this morning. i hope it’s still cool by the time you drink it. love, d” 

pls sir your hand in marriage

he secretly loves it when you usher him to bed after waking up in the dead of night to see him working by candlelight on reports 

soft hands on his cheeks gently whispering about how, it’s been far too long and come to bed, darling and there will be time for this in the morning

his protests are light given the dark purple hues under his crimson eyes but he’ll still make a little fuss 

don’t let this man fool you tho he’s so so touched that you care enough to check up on him and drag him to bed!!

sometimes on the days he has a bit more free time, the two of you will quickly grab your dinners and race to the highest spot in the winery to watch the setting sun

these moments are always filled with laughter, something you’ve found you’re easily able to pull out of diluc, simply because it’s you 

uncontrollable sobbing

he would let you paint his nails black like the angsty man he is 

frankly he would let you do anything to him if it makes you happy <3 

ok but wait diluc w bLACK NAILS?? AND RINGS??? i would die on the spot ⚰️

on the topic of makeup, this man is surprisingly really good w it 

i like to think he learned after practicing on kaeya when they were younger bc kaeya was really into makeup

you found out after babysitting klee one day and trying failing to draw eyeliner on the sweet girl after her “big brother ‘bedo!”

you hastily grabbed some wipes, gently wiping off the messed up design before attempting to dive back in 

diluc however, had some down time so he decided to check up on his favorite chaotic duo 

only to be met with a pile of dirtied makeup wipes, your frustrated expression, and klee’s growing jitteriness 

swiftly moving to your side, he quietly asked if you needed help 

you glanced up quizzically before handing him the eyeliner, already looking around to find more makeup wipes when this inevitably goes wrong 

to your utter surprise tho the eyeliner is perfect??? two perfect winged lines??? in less than a minute??? WHAT

you just stood there like 😦 before diluc got back up and handed you the eyeliner 

you were short-circuiting, klee was ecstatic, diluc was worried about you 

ok last thing abt diluc 

crack! warning but the both of you like lowkey pranking kaeya 

for diluc it’s revenge on his annoying brother; for you it’s good - natured sibling rivalry fun 

every time the two of you see kaeya, one of you always swipes something of his 

small things really, it could be a pen or a handkerchief

one time, diluc swiped kaeya’s spare eyepatch and from the looks of it, kaeya’s only spare black eyepatch bc he was frantically looking for it yk he’s desperate when he even asked diluc if he saw it

the two of you spent an hour nearly laughing your asses off 

all in all, life w him is so sweet 

kaeya

pretty boy? pretty boy. 

while i can’t guarantee stability, life would never be boring w this man that’s for sure

piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 🗣 piggy back rides 

he LOVES it, the feel of you on his back while he’s walking around mondstadt most likely carrying you to your commission 

he finds it comforting especially since he can hear the rumble of your voice against him while you recount stories, or just babble on about everything under the sun 

he is SO dramatic so obviously when y’all reach the site of the commission he has to kill all the monsters even tho the both of you agreed to split it up evenly 

he makes quick work of his set before stealing some of yours much to your chagrin 

you scold him but can you really be mad at him when he looks drop dead gorgeous freezing the hilichurls the answer is no, no you cannot be

oh my god ok wait-

he does this thing where he tries to spook you in public 

so say you’re getting groceries at the mondstadt general store

you round the corner just minding your own business, looking around, taking in the sunshine 

and suddenly you just hear someone drop in behind you but before you can register anything you hear a soft “boo” and hands circle your waist 

you jump SIKE let’s be honest you shrieked 

meanwhile kaeya’s just laughing his ass off 

you can hear his rich peals of laughter while you attempt to regain your bearings 

he does this so often you SHOULD be used to it but you really aren’t bc mans is SNEAKY-

he cards his fingers in your hair whenever you’re speaking 

he doesn’t know why, it’s just a cute habit and he finds the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing

oH on the topic of comfort, kaeya really likes resting two fingers on the back of your neck???

ik he seems like the type to throw his arm around your shoulder which yes he totally is but during more serious conversations his hand automatically seeks out the warmth of your neck 

your neck feels amazing especially during the warmer months due to his chilly fingers contrasting with your warm skin  

he likes that he’s able to access such a vulnerable part of you and you would willingly let him 

HE GETS YOU MATCHING OUTFITS

no i will NOT take criticism on this i just kNOW he’s that type of guy

it would be those stupid “i’m his” and “they’re mine” sweatshirts like BYE 

it’s so cringy but for some reason it’s oddly adorable and you truly despise it but you can’t seem to say no whenever he asks 

you pretend to ignore the look of pity diluc throws your way whenever he sees you like this

kaeya really loves accessories so i think he would be the type to give you a promise ring or something similar to show that he truly does care for you 

he would brush it off, flirting a little like usual before handing you the ring 

with the way his cheeks softly darken though, you know he’s being genuine 

TICKLE FIGHTS ik i mentioned this for childe but shhhh

he has tickle fingers??? his hands just loOK like they’re itching to tickle someone so you’ll most likely be the unfortunate victim 

he will not show you mercy. at all. he’ll tickle you until there are tears streaming from your eyes, your face is hot, and your voice is hoarse from laughing so damn hard 

it gives him such a rush of serotonin its SO CUTE 

i feel like this goes without saying but he’s super into pda,,, anything and everything is on the table 

hand holding? duh. ass grabs? ofc. carrying you bridal style around mondstadt? why not 

ik he’s typically very playful but once the relationship reaches a certain stage, he’ll slowly start to let down the walls that surround his facade 

very very slowly show you the more realistic parts of him 

the real, damaged pieces of his soul 

he’ll be carefully monitoring your reaction though, any sign of fear or disgust will have him recoiling within himself again and you most likely will never see his true nature ever again 

SO BE CAREFUL 👹

once you’ve seen the parts of him he’s offered to you, the hushed whispers of his past, and the uncertain lines of his future, he will take off his eyepatch 

pretends like he’s not super nervous but he’s SWEATING- 

the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen though hands down 

you can understand why he covers it up but you would like it if he felt comfortable enough to take off the eyepatch occasionally when he’s with you 

also!!! sleeps with his eyepatch side facing you (in the event he wears it to bed) 

if this happens you KNOW he trusts you bc it’s his blindside <3 

anyways life w kaeya will never be boring but he is a very complicated man 

stay with him though, i promise it’ll be worth it 

jean

the key to jean’s heart is coffee and food 

GET HER COFFEE AND FOOD

i am begging you she deserves it 😭

the poor woman works so hard bc the knights are so mf understaffed, this is literally the best way you can ever show her your love and appreciation when she has work

she will MELT if you have a hot shower and dinner waiting for her when she inevitably returns later than she promised

will completely refuse at first with, “you did not have to do this, it’s too much” but shush her as you shOULD bc she deserves the entire world 

she’s the definition of “you do something for me, i’ll return the favor ten times grander”

you leave a flower on her desk bc it reminded you of her??? you’ll wake up to find a whole bouquet of the prettiest windwheel asters you’ve ever seen the next morning along with a thank you note

she’s so sweet BYE

she gets flustered extremely easily so you obviously use this as an opportunity to tease her 

when you’re in public rest your hand on her waist and inch it higher until your hand is underneath her shirt and in contact with her warm skin 

she’ll actually short-circuit its quite adorable 

sometimes y’all will be cuddling and you’ll hear whispers of her insecurities 

“am i a good grand master? will i ever be as valiant as vanessa?”

reassure her!!! tell her that she doesn’t need to be like vanessa, she’s already amazing as jean 

if you haven’t seen her in awhile, track her down and schedule a lunch date 

she never misses appointments and if it’s for you, she’ll gladly make time to see you even if she has to stay up even later than usual 

OH-

GIVE HER MASSAGES 

she has so much tension and the sorest muscles from hunching over papers and running around on errands 

if you sneak into her office and quietly stand behind her before gently pushing down on the sore tendons of her neck, she’ll genuinely fall over on her desk 

so make sure you steady her 😀

after you feel how tight her muscles are though, you drag her to barbara bc she needs a healer asap 😭

while most of your time is spent in her office - you helping out in the ways you can while jean is overseeing knight duties - you still have your fair share of life outside of the favonius headquarters

jean never likes to sit still so whenever you have free time, the both of you head off looking for monsters to clear

bouken da bouken???

adventuring w jean is seriously the funnest thing you could ever do 

it’s just non-stop you accidentally getting into trouble and her having to come help you 

even tho the both of you are dead tired after fighting, what? 20 hilichurl camps now??? the laughter and joy in your eyes shows how you both truly loved every minute of it

it’s both a stress reliever, good fun, and a work-out <3

you’re definitely prone to getting dragged to angel’s share w kaeya 

kaeya and jean sometimes hang out after work at the tavern so inevitably you’re dragged along too 

all three of you are drunk out of your minds which just makes everything a MILLION times funnier 

kaeya slurring over his words makes the two of you start cackling endlessly while diluc just shakes his head making sure to not give you more wine despite your pleas 

angel’s share ft. kaeya and bartender diluc are always the best times fr fr 

life with her literally feels like y’all are married 

so much domesticity it’s so NICE ALJDKSFH

your house is always so clean and the color scheme is impeccable bc jean has such a good eye 

you have a chore schedule 😎 but it almost never works out bc jean ends up doing everything without you knowing- 

you always confront her abt it and she’s like 😁 “i had some time so i did them! no worries tho” like i- time??? where bitc-

oH- she has amazing style so you can bet shopping w her is literally the best experience 

she takes you to all of the hidden gems some places lisa recommended and helps you pick out things 

will 100% get really blushy if you come out in something and ask her for her opinion tho she’s literally the cutest

basically jean is a sweet girl who deserves the entirety of teyvat that is all. 

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3 

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence

a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count: 6.7k

read parts one, two, and three 

“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket. 

She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left. 

“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”

Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”

“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”

“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”

Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out. 

“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”

“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car. 

The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky. 

“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions. 

Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”

“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”

“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—” 

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”

Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”

“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”

Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”

Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues. 

“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”

“Yes,”

“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”

Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”

She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” 

“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”

“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks. 

Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”

“Who initiated the last hang out?”

“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over. 

Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”

Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ” 

Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed. 

“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”

“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer? 

********

Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight. 

“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”

“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,” 

“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch. 

“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline. 

Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”

“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”

The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics. 

“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”

“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”

Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again. 

“Once again, no one has answered my question.”

“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns. 

Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”

“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”

He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion.  No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back. 

Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?

There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it. 

Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason. 

Relief. He quickly types out a risky response. 

Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?

He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip. 

Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe. 

Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch. 

Harry: Yeah, no worries. 

Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present. 

********

Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand. 

“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter. 

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle. 

The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if  his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake. 

“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”

Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”

It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days. 

“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”

The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send. 

Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?

He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings. 

Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest. 

The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response. 

Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?

Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply. 

Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say. 

Harry hums, hanging on every word. 

Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…

Alani: We need to change that immediately. 

His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever. 

Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type? 

Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth. 

Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating. 

Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add. 

Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better. 

Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know. 

Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?

Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that. 

Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind. 

Harry: How’s the article going?

Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to. 

Alani: It’s going. 

Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?

Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry. 

She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry. 

He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.  

Harry: Good night Alani. 

********

“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”

Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.

“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”

Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be. 

“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”

“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”

The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth. 

“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”

Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.  

Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop. 

“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list. 

Pua—no license.

Maleah—out of town. 

Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu. 

Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery. 

She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time. 

Harry Styles—no. 

There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring. 

“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background. 

“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”

She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time. 

“Oh hey. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside. 

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly. 

Alani’s chest tightens. 

“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—” 

She hesitates. What the hell am I doing? 

“I need your help,”

Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”

“Where are you?”

“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”

“I’m on my way,”

“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”

A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”

He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and  her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her. 

“Harry?”

“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”

Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw. 

“You cut your hair,”

“I did,” he confirms. 

“It’s so short,”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”

But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know. 

“So Stevie quit on you?”

Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”

Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation. 

Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum. 

“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”

“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry. 

Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively. 

He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car. 

“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint. 

“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks. 

Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”

Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”

“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”

“Your friends won’t be mad?”

“They’ll be fine,”

Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.

“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up. 

She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”

“Know any good places?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”

Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”

Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles. 

“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on. 

Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging. 

“Look good on you,”

“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over. 

He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses. 

“What d’you think?”

“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”

And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered. 

She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though,  so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance. 

“So what’s with the haircut?”

Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”

“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”

“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense. 

Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”

He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”

“For?”

“A movie,”

“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”

“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”

“Wow,”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”

Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”

“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard. 

“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”

Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.

“What about yours?” she questions. 

“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”

He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”

Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother. 

“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”

Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”

“I bet she’s really proud.”

He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them. 

“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”

Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that  she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them. 

“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,”

“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill. 

Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”

“And the truth comes out!”

“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”

“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”

Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street,  but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t. 

“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice. 

She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”

“What’re you reading?”

“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”

Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”

“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”

"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod. 

Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”

“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”

She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”

“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.

She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”

“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”

“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”

Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”

“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”

“Middle name?”

“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”

He hums. “Ever been?”

“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”

“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes. 

“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport. 

He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”

“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit. 

“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of. 

The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one. 

“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”

Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”

“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute. 

“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief. 

“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.

 He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people  happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to. 

“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry. 

Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers  his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought. 

“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”

“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose. 

“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake. 

“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.  

“Nothing gets past you.”

********

The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed. 

“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”

Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat. 

“Wrong-o, sorry,”

“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”

“Am not,” he defends proudly. 

Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”

“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”

“Guess we’ll never know, then,” 

Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name. 

“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,” 

Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone. 

“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly. 

Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”

The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary. 

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys. 

Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?

“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”

Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods. 

“Okay, sure,”

“I can pick you up,” Harry offers. 

Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence. 

I’ll be there.

[sserpente]

Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures--but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. The deal is a simple one: Become a recruit and help the Time Variance Authority fight time crimes to earn your freedom again eventually or die. Loki accepts the challenge. It would not be long until he could use their own weapons against them, after all. If only that, however, were his only concern. Least of all did he expect that with his reluctant arrival at TVA, a woman would step into his life and wreak havoc in his heart. He does not know what it is about her that he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey--but he is determined to find out.

A/N: Gaaaah, I haven’t nearly pre-written as many chapters as I would like to have pre-written before starting to post but I just can’t wait any longer! I finally want to share this story with you guys, I am so hyped about it! So, without further ado--enjoy the first chapter of “Pastel Blue”! I hope you like it! ♥

Chapter 1

Tick Tock. That clock on the wall was driving her crazy, it had been ever since she had been assigned to this dull office. She spent most of her time in the lab, working in midst of dangerous and highly sensitive equipment and delicate devices.

Tick Tock. She was going to smash it—with a big hammer, perhaps, or even better, a jackhammer. It was ugly too. Made of wood and obviously antique, late 18th century probably. What had Mobius been thinking?

Oh yeah, him. Mobius M. Mobius, her I-am-not-your-father-but-I-will-treat-you-like-my-daughter supervisor and babysitter, thank you very much. Granted, he was old enough to be her father, taking into consideration that in her mid-twenties, there wasn’t much need for a parental figure in her life anymore.

Tick Tock. She sighed. The pile of paperwork she had been handed this morning had seemingly not shrunk by even an inch. She could swear she had not been stalling today. Breakfast, work, lunch break, work… Tick Tock. She rolled her eyes. No. This was unreasonable. Grunting a few not so decent swear words, she gathered the spreadsheets and dozens of handwritten notes, sending the calming ruffling of paper through the air and exited the room without so much as thinking about what Mobius would think about her wandering places around the TVA during work hours again.

Besides, the kitchen and common room right around the corner of her desired destination was equipped with the best coffee machine modern technology had to offer. Hot chocolate with mint and a hint of vanilla? Oh yes, please!

At this time of the day, the lab in question was deserted. Pens, pliers and other small tools lay scattered all over the metal tables as if someone had just finished their work for the day. Some of the devices in here could cause major damage if activated accidentally or even at the wrong time. Now there was the thrill, the proximity to endless possibilities.

After turning a few laps around the tables to see if anything had changed or improved at all since the last time she was here (which would be yesterday), she eventually made herself comfortable at the huge desk fully equipped with a cup holder, sockets and a fancy table lamp. The chair was the best part, enabling her to swirl around whenever she felt like she needed a refreshing spin.

She had just pulled out her burrow from her hair, having twirled it around one of the lighter strands. Her guess was the sun had bestowed its warm kisses upon her chocolate brown hair in the summer. Leaning over her papers, she got back to work.

But it was only five minutes until she heard the heavy metal door with the see-through glass panel being pushed open, followed by someone clearing their throat.

“Jess, do you have a moment?” Mobius asked. Jess tilted her head, the slightest frown accompanied by a gentle smirk decorating her face. What, no chastising for changing work locations today? She swirled around on her chair, expecting to see the man in question in his grey suit and the signature scar across his nose stare her down with arms akimbo. Instead, he was holding on to the door tensely, right next to him, seemingly out of place in the threshold, a man with raven hair and the most stunning pair of blue eyes she had ever had the pleasure to lock her gaze with. Her eyes were blue as well—Loki’s, however, seemed to shimmer green in the artificial light of the lab. She didn’t get much daylight, all the way down here.

“M?” Jess smiled. She rose, ignoring the slight trembling of her knees as she approached the two, keeping a safe distance. Her heart skipped a beat with every single step, her chest resembling a magnet pulling her towards Loki like a powerless needle.

“I’ve told you, repeatedly, to stay in your own office.” Ah, there it was.

“I have asked you, repeatedly, to re-locate my office here.” She retorted with a smug expression, eyes darting over to Loki. Mobius shook his head. “An introduction is probably redundant. Jess, this is Loki.”

He was wearing the orange prison clothes TVA had manufactured a few years back. She had to admit, orange suited him rather well, bringing out his cheekbones and the dark hair framing his flawless face. His lips were thin, his jawline to die for. She would be lying if she denied his attractiveness. Loki was a god, after all. Most prominent to his appearance, however, were the shackles around his naked wrists and the metal collar hiding most of his long neck—a chunky but firm reminder his powers were all but a myth as long as the light was blinking bright red like a traffic light screaming stop at him like a sleep-deprived police officer.

Loki lifted his chin, allowing pride and confidence to flood his aura. Out of all the people he had encountered in this strange place so far, alterations of his very own self on an old-fashioned projector included, she was by far the oddest. Jess, so he learned, wore a colourful choker around her neck as well as two bracelets of the same kind. They reminded him of sugar pearls. If he had asked her about them, she could have revealed to him that they were indeed candy necklaces—and that she wore them because Mobius had stressed there were no edible snacks allowed at work. The elegant pieces of jewellery hanging down her earlobes, however, appeared to be non-edible. Two delicate silver charms, holding what Loki identified to be moonstones. They suited her, complementing the long brown hair and the outstanding colour of her eyes. Blue—just like his.

“The God of Mischief.” She completed, the fraction of a second after he had studied her conspicuous appearance. She added a court but polite nod. “I was kind of hoping to meet you one day.” And so she was. The rumours had spread across the entire facility like wildfire, reaching even the Minutemen based in different timelines. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, had stolen an Infinity Stone and escaped his respective timeline—a timeline reaching all the way back to 2012—creating a new branch of reality entirely. Unsupervised, he could have caused serious damage to the very fabric of time and the multiverse. He had to be stopped, had to be captured, had to be persuaded.

Mobius had expressed his interest in getting the infamous Trickster to work for him frequently. Loki was skilled, intelligent, witty, a talented fighter and most of all, one of the most capable users of magic the multiverse had to offer. His stories of victory and defeat were known to most of the TVA and yet, they resonated with her to an extent her colleagues could never fathom. Above everything Loki had had to experience—above all Loki will have had to experience—there was a thick layer of loneliness clouding his aura like a blanket of ice-cold snow. It was a suitable comparison, given his heritage.

“I didn’t just hear that.” Mobius intervened. He sized her up like an unpredictable teenager. “The God of Mischief has retired. Loki here has just agreed on working for us.”

“With you,” Loki interrupted. “Not for you. Reluctantly.” That would leave her wondering what exactly it was Mobius had offered him in return.

Jess chuckled. “Now that is a matter of opinion, trust me. I would know.” Raising an eyebrow, she gave Mobius a challenging glare.

“I need you to cover a shift.” He responded matter-of-factly. Jess’ eyebrow rose even higher. “Reese just jumped back from 1792.”

“And?”

“He almost made his personal acquaintance with the guillotine. They’re patching him up in the hospital wing right now.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jess took a step back, realising just what kind of favour, no, requirement Mobius would ask for. Reese had been in the TVA for more than three decades—he had not aged a day since his accession as a matter of fact—and his experience and excessive excitement over the Avengers had made him the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Loki while he was still not to be trusted—if he was ever going to be trusted, that was. He was the God of Mischief, after all.

“I’m on probation, remember? What makes you think I should cover for him of all people?” Loki rolled his eyes and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for excluding him from a conversation that was clearly about him.

“Call it an experiment. Prove to me that we can rely on you and I’ll end your probation.” Jess resisted the urge to shake his hand off her shoulder when he leaned forward to touch her in a fatherly manner.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” A Minuteman had appeared behind them. Jess had never quite figured out how they moved so quietly. Their shoe soles must have been made of feathers. In turn, the stilettos she usually wore to smuggle a few more inches to her height were loud and made satisfying noises ricocheting through the hallways when she walked, emitting confidence and even smugness. She needed that boost every once in a while.

Mobius nodded. As he released Jess’ shoulder and pushed past Loki—who did, much to her amusement, not move an inch for the senior manager—he pointed a finger at him. “Behave.”

The lab door fell shut behind him, drowning all noises from the outside like a soundproof recording room. Jess gaped at Loki for a second, her body once again threatening to overwhelm her with the magnetic pull she felt towards the Trickster, fascination setting her veins ablaze.

“You do not look human.” Loki suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jess pouted.

“Excuse me? I am hoping you meant that as a compliment, I am as human as I’ll ever be.” Loki frowned, then responded with a hum.

“I take it you hop timelines for him too then, fixing the damage others have done.”

“Me? No.” Jess shook her head. “I am not a Minuteman. I wish I was, trust me, but I have got nothing to do with that, unfortunately. I work in the linguistics department, spending all day translating protocols and time recordings from all sorts of languages. Now I know what you’re thinking. With its technology, shouldn’t TVA be able to translate everything using a smart computer program?” She shrugged. “Well, technically you’re right. But there’s a bunch of languages out there that simply don’t exist either here on Earth or any other known realm. We’re only human—and a computer program is only as smart as its creator. It can’t translate a language that does not consist of words, for example, that would go against the very human comprehension of its programmer.”

“Then how do you speak them?” Loki probed.

“That’s my superpower. I don’t know why I can understand them, I just… do. And what did it get me?” She raised her hands in a dramatic motion. “Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The only way for me to get in on the real action is this place here. Take a look at this.” Loki watched her move towards what resembled a toaster, shaped like a metal suitcase that had been left open. Smiling, she reached for a shining red apple on the table and placed it on the black surface before activating the switch. She had seen the scientists do this dozens of times before. In fact, she was sure she could handle most of the devices in here in her sleep. As the small machine hummed to life, it sent a deafening vibration through the room and then, just like someone had hit fast-forward with a remote, the apple shrivelled and rotted.

“Pretty cool, huh? It works the other way around too once it recharged. They haven’t figured out how to make it work for living beings, including humans, just yet, though. This is just a prototype anyway, the real thing is supposed to help re-animate the dead for a short amount of time to solve time crimes and shit. I swear I’d get a major in science if I lived another life. My father was one. Before he died, that is.” Jess wasn’t quite sure what made her open up to the God of Mischief and tell her about her personal family drama. She usually babbled when nervousness got the better of her but this was a new level of openness entirely. They all knew her story, after all, but apart from Mobius, they all pretended they didn’t. “You see? TVA is not all bad, even if it may seem so at first. M can be an arsehole sometimes, I know. He calls our main timeline in which everything began,” Jess continued with a dramatic voice, “the Null-Time Zone. I never figured out why and he won’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t listen, Jess.” Mobius answered, holding the door open with the Minuteman who had asked for his advice impatiently but mutely waiting for his turn again behind him.

“So?” She probed, pointing at the God of Mischief with her chin, her arms crossed. “If I am to play babysitter for a while, where am I staying? Where is Loki staying?”

“Your place.” Jess blinked, incredulousness spreading on her face like a clean swipe of butter on warm toasted bread.

“My place?”

“Your residential unit is supervised and equipped with modern alarm systems, just in case you decide to make trouble again, remember? We’ll position security outside the door in addition to that, killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it’s only temporary. Reese should be up and on his feet again in no time. The blade only grazed him before he made the jump back.”

“That does not sound reassuring!” Jess stood up straight to prove her point and yet, even compared to Mobius, she was nowhere near tall enough to make an impact with her body language at this time.

“You can take the rest of the day off as compensation. Show Loki to your unit. Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll send security to collect him in five minutes—to the second!”

 ~*~

She seems familiar almost… like part of me has known her forever. It was a thought which jumped into Loki’s mind and implanted itself in his head like a parasite. A mere mortal, how could there possibly be a connection between them? But it wasn’t just magnetic fascination and intrigue. Loki felt a need to keep her in his presence much like she was about to be his cherished bride. Irritation crept up the back of his neck as he followed her through the branched corridors and back to the modern lift he had had to use upon his arrival.

He would only love to know just what it was that had gotten her on probation. Abuse of machinery for her own selfish purposes, perhaps? A prank which had gone too far and done damage to the organisation? Murder? No. Despite her toughness, he could not imagine the delicate mortal standing next to him in the elevator being capable of killing anyone.

When the elevator doors slid open again, the young woman gave him an almost sheepish smile. She hardly appeared worried by having to escort him all on her own, across empty hallways which were only too inviting to overpower her and escape. Something held him back. She did, so he realised with another wave of irritation electrifying his body.

“…the most dangerous missions they usually leave to Justice Peace and Death’s Head. Ever heard of them? They are like celebrities around here.” He heard her say just then. But Loki couldn’t possibly take less interest in this so-called Time Variance Authority. All he needed to know was that it was yet another, partially human-led secret organisation imagining with the naivety of a child that they held power over him. SHIELD had made this mistake in the past and they had paid the bitter price. TVA would be no different.

“The units here are labelled with our initials and the department number. This one.” Jess pointed at the first door coming into sight to their right and quite apparently, Mobius had not made any empty promises concerning Jess’ safety and surveillance. As they turned around the corner, they were greeted by a grimly looking security officer clutching one of those small devices Loki identified as a Taser, one which of the like Darcy Lewis had once used on his brother. He kept a straight face even as Jess unlocked the residential unit using her fingerprint and entered but gave him a provocative smirk before following her.

His own chambers back on Asgard—another life entirely, so it seemed now—were a reflection of who he was with their green accents, the countless books, the tidiness and the ancient parchment rolls on his dark mahogany desk from Vanaheim. If anything, analysing her personal living space to the very last grain of dust would satisfy his need to learn just why he felt so drawn her, perhaps.

The first item of furniture he took in was the long bookshelf towering all the way up to the ceiling, every inch filled with clearly read books about as thick as his wrist. He made a note to study the titles later. A coffee table full of empty peanut shells and a new package of peanuts still sealed neatly in their plastic bag, a caramel sofa on which he found more sealed peanut bags as well as a golden cushion with cheesy pom-poms. A drawer, a TV with large speakers and another electronic gadget resembling a fridge and two separate doorways which led to a bathing area, so he presumed, and her bedroom. Even with the overall lack of more furniture in the room, Jess had somehow managed to add her very own personal touch to the sterile residential unit.

“The bathroom is to the right, you’ll find refreshments and snacks in the fridge next to the TV. My bedroom is out of bounds. I hope you enjoyed the tour.” She chuckled, grabbing a blue leather jacket from the hook on the entrance door behind them. “Big meals are eaten in the cafeteria at certain times of the day though. Mobius wants to strengthen the team spirit but the cooks never say no to a late breakfast or a midnight snack if you ask them nicely.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner in this place?” A lackey for someone else to take the credit for your hard work, he added silently. He knew two of that kind—one being his brother, the other his alleged father. Loki suppressed a begrudged growl. Just in that moment and before she had a chance to reply to his provocative remark, there was a vigorous knock on the door.

“That’ll be your cue.” Jess announced. Loki had to force himself not to turn his head and catch one last glimpse of her as the grimly looking security man escorted him back to Mobius and, other than Jess, kept pushing him forward like cattle and yet, he was convinced he could feel her curious gaze resting on his back long after he had turned back around the corner, stepped into the elevator and even when he was reluctantly reunited with Mobius near the lab where they had first picked her up.

He was speaking to the same Minuteman who had interrupted them earlier—quietly, vividly and so engrossed in the seemingly heated conversation that he noticed Loki and his new bodyguard approaching only after his exceptional hearing had picked up shreds of information he made another mental note of using against them, sooner rather than later.

“You do realise that they’ll come after us with a vengeance, right? That could be the end of TVA once and for all, you know very well what he is capable of.”

“Let that be my concern. This is just a temporary solution—one which I am very curious about.”

“But it already—“

“I realise it already happened and that’s exactly why I’m doing this. All we need to do is stop it from happening again by observing the situation intently, stitch up the loop and we’ll be safe. This isn’t my first rodeo, Dave, you of all people should know this.”

“And what about the Tesseract? Wouldn’t it be smarter if we—“

The security officer cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.

“The Tesseract,” Loki interrupted with a glare, strutting towards them like the king he was born to become and despite his shackles, “belongs to me. It called out to me, it is mine.”

“You’ll find a lot of people in this facility who will disagree with you on that. Trust me. We’ll make sure you won’t get your hands on that cube again.” Dave snorted. “I hope you like your new lodging. Now come on, mischief maker. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

A/N: And Scene! So what do you think, what do you think, what do you think? 🤯 I’m so excited to dive into this story! I literally recorded myself on my phone in the middle of the night a while back when all the ideas I had finally came together so I hope I’ll be taking you on an exciting journey with me!

Chapter 2