#hels!False

[lunarcrown]

Patho will allow ONE (1) person into his personal space and it’s a crimson jungle cursed wildman with a overactive lying bug named Dbubs who OVERACHIEVES in the “getting into your personal space” energy

And here he’s telling some extremely BS tall tale and patho is smiling under his mask at the obvious lying but the enjoyment of his voice nonetheless

Aqua made a fic that has this lil scene in it AND SO MUCH MORE!!!

[helielune]

zipper man //sketch

[favorite-lie]

recent art

[aquaquadrant]

See, you said we should make sure to have a lot of time to read this last chapter, but I wasn't expecting to need so much time that, when I started reading just after lunch, I would be interrupted only halfway through act two by my parents calling me for dinner. And I'm not a slow reader, certainly not (Even if I did have to take a mental wellness break of watching Ren wrangle armadillos between acts, but that was just half an hour).

I was not expecting it to be quite this long. That it made me cry though, that I did expect.

‘i was not expecting it to be quite this long’ YOU AND ME BOTH 😂⚰️

like ok i knew going into it that it’d be a lot bc there was a lot i wanted to cover, but was NOT thinking over 30k words long??? it’s ridiculous. but i’d already used every line in the song for chapter titles so i couldn’t split it up any more. c’est la vie. glad u enjoyed it tho!! 💃

[aquariium-ediits]

Okay uhm. Might go fully (ish???) inactive on here for a while for mental health reasons.

Reqs are closed and I'm gonna be trying to not post or really do anything for a bit. Mutuals, y'all might see me occasionally like your posts, if I do, yay, I still haven't totally quit, lmao.

I'm not planning on quitting, but my motivation has kinda just dropped to zero over the past few days. Unlike last time, I'm not gonna put an estimate to when I'll be back, because my mental health can be great one moment and then the next I'm needing to take serious breaks from basically everything.

Fear not, everyone's favorite mutual who never even talks to anyone on here is fine, I just need to officially stop thinking so much about this account and instead return to the whimsy of just watching as stuff happens on this silly lil website.

[calcium-rods]

I don't have any super defined alt/hels hermits but I think alternate Joe and alternate False would be allies. Maybe not friends, but more like evil business partners

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

guh. nothing tremendously serious but as a falsesymmetry fictionkin with memories from season Seven.. i seriously miss running for mayor!!like that was So fun right. even if i didnt win the election, i enjoyed running my campaign!

-anon 🏹🗝️

Fair enough!

-Mod hels

[my-timing-is-digital]

this seems like some kind of underground passage.

An underground passage? If she had truly discovered a subterranean corridor, that might significantly simplify their objective; the existence of such a passageway would profoundly facilitate their infiltrating the fortress, which implied they could remain under the radar until they had executed their clandestine mission. With finesse, and perhaps a flair of panache, the android hopped down a congregation of smooth boulders until he reached her position. Subsequently, he whipped out his tricorder and in one fluent motion flipped it open, upon which the device immediately sprang to life and started to scan and accumulate relevant data.

Quietly, the Commander approached the location of where the supposed entrance to the underground passage was situated. The design of the smooth limestone wall, chiselled with intricate markings of a foreign composition and arrangement, did not suggest its position could be altered — no matter how much force one would exert to coerce its movement. However, that did not deter the android, and neither would he disregard what Helena believed to have discovered so easily.

His chartreuse optical components surveyed the wall diligently, scrutinising every few millimetres with minute precision. The markings that, upon closer examination resembled some of the hieroglyphs native to ancient languages on Earth, were encompassed by a frame of a different material, heavier, intrinsically denser... Carefully, the android tapped his finger to the frame to ascertain what material was being obscured below the epidermal layer of carbonate sedimentary rock affixed to it. Two taps sufficed to conclude that the material underneath was iridium.

‘Mhm,’ he hummed ruminatively, his brows puckered as he slid his index finger down the length of the iridium frame disguised as limestone, the action itself exhibiting an almost intimate nature.

The unequivocal pull of a feeble magnetic presence tickled the circuitry and highly sensitive sensors in the pad of his slender finger. Evidently, the door was secured by a mechanism that may or may not be connected to a security system. This would complicate things...

‘I think you may be correct; this might be a door of some kind. However, the frame appears to be compounded of iridium and a mechanism that could either be a security system programmed to sound the alarm at the first sign of unauthorised access, or it is a highly complex and sophisticated lock that can only be opened from the inside, like an emergency exit,’ the android informed his companion, his eyes briefly oscillating from her to the door and back, ‘or both.’

[hybbart]

Day 2548: Tango and Wels sneak into the labs to destroy the bird call machine that captured Jimmy and the zombie, so they can escape once they rescue Jimmy. The building is littered with the remains of the old abandoned experiments that made the other False and Hels in the first place... And the unsuccessful leftovers of more recent ones...

[brokenmenswhore]

red riding hood | aemond targaryen

request from dms!

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond no-shows picking you up for a halloween party, causing you to walk through the woods alone to get there. you suddenly get the sense that you’re being followed.

warnings: CONSENSUAL-NONCONSENSUAL (MDNI 18+), smut, slight knife play

────── ☾ ──────

You had been waiting two and a half hours for Aemond to arrive, meaning you were officially late to Aegon’s annual Halloween party. You weren’t one to arrive early, but two and a half hours was already two and a half hours after the fashionably late time your boyfriend was supposed to fetch you.

You called his sister, Heleana, to see if maybe she knew where he was.

“Stark! What’s up?” she answered, clearly already buzzed.

“Have you seen Aemond?” you questioned, growing impatient.

“Thought he was with you?” she responded with another question. She saw the expression on your face, giving away that he was indeed not with you. “He should show up soon, Y/N. Is there anything you need?”

“No, I’m okay, thank you, Hel. I’ll see you soon,” you smiled, ending the call.

You decided to say fuck it. If he wouldn’t come get you, you could find your way on your own.

You had snuck through the woods to the Targaryen house a few times to see Aemond late at night, but you typically had Aemond on the other end of the phone guiding you. You had false confidence that you had done this enough to know the way by heart.

You walked further and further into the woods, your Red Riding Hood costume snagging on a few branches laying on the ground. You kept your red hood up, hoping it would help you blend in with the night easier. You realized you officially had no idea if you were going in the correct direction. All trees looked the same, and you weren’t even sure what the proper direction to turn around was.

You continued on regardless, determined to make it there yourself, when you began to hear the creaking of leaves under shoes behind you. With each step you took, it sounded as if there was one being taken a few feet behind you. You paused for a moment, contemplating your options, before you began sprinting.

You ran as fast as you could, weaving through the mess of trees as the noise behind you grew louder and louder. It was hopeless from the beginning, as the hooded assailant slammed your front into a tree, your back pressed into their chest.

You tried to writhe your way out of their grasp, but a strong hand pulled off your hood, a small, sharp blade pressed to the side of your neck.

The person behind you didn’t say a word, he just pushed your cloak up, hands finding their way to the garters you had on either thigh. One hand ran up to the strings of the corset right below your breasts, untying them enough to give your breasts more flexibility of movement.

Your skirt barely covered you, most of the costume coverage coming from the cape that was now pushed up above your skirt.

You continued to squirm, but the person behind you was too strong, and the blade against your neck was very real and very sharp.

He moved your underwear to the side, leaving your cunt exposed, and the head of his cock poked at your entrance. You didn’t even notice him take the time to free himself from his pants.

You gasped as he entered you in one thrust, his entire length bottoming out inside of you, forcing you roughly against the tree. Your body scraped against the bark again and again as he thrust up into you, snapping his hips at a violent pace.

His hand dropped his dagger, moving to the back of your head and gripping your hair into a ponytail, holding your head against the tree so you couldn’t turn around, while the other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place.

You moaned and whined at the harsh pace, tears beginning to form in your eyes as you tried to brace yourself against the tree with your hands. He didn’t like that.

He grabbed your hands, placing them behind your back, his pace never faltering. You cried out as the only thing holding your body against the tree now was your torso and your face, the sensation of the bark stinging as he pushed roughly in and out of you.

“Fuck!” you cried out, sniffling as tears continued to stream down your face.

Your hands still behind your back, he pulled out of you, pulling you off of the tree and forcing your body down to the ground, your front landing roughly on fallen leaves, dirt, and grass. You knew it would make your costume dirty, but you couldn’t do anything about it. You had no choice.

His teeth grazed the garter on your right thigh, biting and snapping it back down. He moved his mouth upwards until he was kissing in between your shoulder blades, his cock reentering you and immediately moving in and out at the same ruthless pace it just had been.

“P-please,” you pleaded, but you didn’t know if you were begging for him to stop or for release.

At your words, he shoved your face further into the dirt, signaling for you to shut up and take what he was giving you.

He fucked you hard, your skirt bouncing slightly around your waist with each thrust. You tried to push yourself up on all fours, and he let you, but not without a hand in your hair to keep you from turning your head around.

Every so often he groaned or growled, but wouldn’t speak to you, only letting out a carnal noise almost involuntarily.

Your walls started to convulse around him, squeezing him as you chased your high. When your climax finally came, he continued to fuck you through it, not even caring about the chance of overstimulation as he only worried about his pleasure.

His pace quickened even further, hips snapping into you faster than you thought possible as you milked him, is high hitting him quickly at the sensation. The overstimulation had you shaking, your high threatening to hit again from the feeling of it all. He kept your head still until he began to soften, pulling out and moving your underwear back in place, not caring about the sticky mess between your legs.

You rolled over, laying on your back on the ground. He stood up, offering you a hand to help you do the same. He pulled you up and you began to brush yourself off, but you were unsteady. You nearly fell, but he caught you, holding onto your waist to avoid your weakness taking over.

“Fucking hell, Aemond,” you sighed, pulling a leaf out of your hair.

He chuckled. “Was I too rough? Are you alright?”

You could tell he was concerned. “I’m alright” you assured him, “just a little wobbly.”

“When you told me you wanted to spice things up with tag in the woods, I thought that meant you could at least run a little faster,” Aemond teased, your mouth dropping open in offense.

“I’m fast,” you pouted, pulling your hood back up over your head, “maybe I was running slow on purpose.”

“Do you still want to go to the party?” Aemond asked as you stayed clinging onto him, your legs unsteady and shaking.

“Can you just call Aegon and tell them I’m sick?”

Aemond nodded and kissed your temple. “Of course. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know where we are,” you admitted.

“Oh come on,” Aemond laughed lifting your legs up so he was fully carrying you, headed out of the words back toward your house.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @slytherincursebreaker

[silverware-drawer]

What the hell is a "cue es em pee"

0 notas

🦈 kocwillrock 🔁 philza

🏳️‍⚧️ wanna-flippa Seguir

MY& P4PA: WH@T D0' #)W3 S4Y WHE;N WE SE3 TH*E H@TER5??,?(

$M'E: D1$LIK€ 4ND #-_UNS+UBSCR/_1BE

M#Y PAP@:; # HEL,L YE4,H!;!!!$!!

*.*W3 BOT,H,, B@CKF''L1P 4WA_-Y"__*+&

🪹 philza

@backflipo-numero-uno please stop impersonating your dead daughter on fucking tumblr and get therapy

🦠 backflipo-numero-uno Seguir

NO LISTEN ITS REALLY HER THIS TIME I SWEAR

🪹 philza

I'm reporting you for your own good m8

🪹 philza

and also because you don't tag the months-old interactions with mariana you keep reblogging and I don't wanna see that shit on my dash lmao

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

damn slime your dead daughter knows how to write a banger post

1,010 notas

💣 federation-sanitation-unofficial 🔁 im-the-orb-theyre-always-pondering

💣 2b-or-not-2b

Finally finished the enchants on my scythe. Going to test this shit on a dungeon run will update

⚠️ pactriggerwarning Seguir

you can come over and test it on me instead if i'm closer. like not in a weird way you can just hit me and I'll tell you how close I am to dying, how much blood I've lost etc

💣 im-the-orb-theyre-always-pondering

fuck okay- pac I've been meaning to talk to you about this. Listen.

💣 federation-sanitation-unofficial

you have. . . tendencies

4 notas

🔎 cellbo 🔁 peterparkoier

⚪ qsmp-census-bureau ☑️ Seguir

I hope you enjoy the island.

cellbit-deactivated19358

FUCK YOU

🐦 its-nice-to-miku Seguir

wait cellbit is this why your old blog got deleted lmao???

🔎 cellbo

shut up

🔎 cellbo

I hear you typing guapito don't you fucking dare

🥵 peterparkoier Seguir

NO MAMES

🔎 cellbo

GOD DAMN IT

201 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 bagi-the-vegan

🌸 bagi-the-vegan

this island is so weird why did people seriously consider the disgusting green egg as a presidential candidate

🌸 bagi-the-vegan

Nevermind gegg is my son now

692 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

what we need is not government it is true union between the people

121.193 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

yo soy brazil. nosotros somos brazil. We Are Gegg.

992 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

the sun is a false god but a true threat

238.816 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

gegg

- gegg

1.1 millón notas

🪹 philza 🔁 philza

⚪ qsmp-census-bureau Seguir

I hope you enjoy the island.

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

elotes-deactivated1191866

dark metal when

elotes-deactivated1191866

dark metal when

elotes-deactivated1191866

dark metal when

etwall-deactivated92701

dark metal when

etwall-deactivated92701

dark metal when

🔰 etoyless

guys I cant believe it they are introducing dark metal soon its not a lie the admins really said so because otherwise it means they hate me GG woooo good fight i dont have to cry anymore!! well played!!

🪹 philza

etoiles you are going to get banned again stop provoking the feds

🔰 etoyless

you are right philza because you are the best ok i am never going to spam them again

🪹 philza

Good job I'm proud of you GGs

🪹 philza

ETOILES

69 notas

🔰 etoyless 🔁 etoyless

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

[azzayofchaos]

Can I ask about Stress and/or False in the mail demon au? Plz?

You may! <3

I did have help with some of the ideas in this au, so thank my lovely collaborator @queseresere for bits and pieces of it.

Stress:

- Owns a tattoo studio across from Iskall’s flower store.

- Part of the neighborhood across, I’m sure she’s joined the resistance against Red’s tyranny over the HOA

- She plays the table top game (d&d equivalent) Iskall DMs, called Vault Hunters. They’ve had two demon problems, firstly Etho, a regular player of course who keeps charming Iskall out of shopping money. Also Hels for a bit there…

- some of her tattoos; a stress monster, and an iskallium monster of course; green zinnias for friendship, nightshade blossoms, some classic roses, spiderwebs, some little angel wings, etc.

- no one fucks with her. (Well, no one but Iskall of course)

False:

- she came to town a year or two ago as a supernatural hunter/exorcist. Her attempts at bothering the mail demons was so thoroughly dismissed that she was baffled and quite charmed by them.

- Red King on the other hand? I mean, keep your friends close and your enemies closer… I wouldn’t say she’s actively trying to exorcise him anymore, especially with both of Ren’s significant others breathing down her neck, but she did start the Anti-Red King resistance in the Neighborhood and is doing her best to rally the troops and generally antagonize him. She still has a bromance with Ren though.

- she teaches kids martial arts as her main job right now. She’s still for higher if you have a ghost or a minor demonic problem… Convex should really see her about that…

- there’s so many ghosts in the river… why are there so many ghosts in the river…

[legitalicat]

we can't be friends - (modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader)

AN: Thank you all for the votes!! I felt very inspired by we can't be friends by Ariana Grande and my brain would not let this go.

Summary: Friends to lovers, lovers to nothing. No words, no explanations. The younger brother of her best friend left behind a void.

CW: angst, happy ending though, pining, Aemond who doesn't like labels, Helaena's best friend so reader is older than him by about two years, drunken mess Aemond.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers (kinda)

Word count: 2k

“Come on, Hel. It’s not like we were ever friends,” she said to her, now, best friend.

It was a lie that burned like whiskey. They had been friends, best friends, for years. It was just easier to say that to Helaena than to admit what they actually shared. It was easier to deny she had any love for him, platonic or otherwise, while she stared at him with his arm draped around another woman.

This is ridiculous, she thought to herself. It was. They had never said they were really anything. All Aemond would ever commit to was letting people draw their own conclusions. He merely provided the basis of a claim and everything else was never true or false. It simply was.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Helaena said quietly when they sat back down. This party was a low-key thing, just a group of fifteen or so people that Aegon invited over to try his new home brew.

“You don’t get it, okay,” Y/N whispered angrily. It was something nobody ever did with Helaena. The sweet, creature obsessed, silver haired girl was always a beacon of light among her friends and family, earning her the respect to not be spoken to out of anger.

“I told you not to get involved. Aegon of all people told you not to get involved,” Helaena whispered to her. “Fuck, Y/N, you’ve been my friend for damn near twenty years, you know him, you knew how he was.”

No, I didn’t, she couldn’t help but think. It was true that Aemond definitely did not ever call her his girlfriend. But he never corrected her when she referred to herself as such, or if she called him her boyfriend. They had gone on over a hundred dates in the four years they spent together, as he reminded her on their last date. Hell, they had even rescued a dog when she unofficially moved in.

That’s what really bothered her. They were friends, they were more, and now he was letting this woman talk about his apartment that Y/N made a proper home and their dog Vhagar as though Y/N had never existed.

She could hear the woman, who she thinks was named Alys, talk about Vhagar. And Aemond just let her, even though Y/N could tell by the way his jaw tightened and nostrils flared that he was tired of her.

“This dog is just so lazy, all she ever wants to do is lay on the ground,” Alys said to the people who were bothering to listen.

“No, she wants to be on the couch, you vapid cunt,” Y/N said, meaning it to be a quiet murmur and instead saying it loud enough to be heard by Aemond.

He shifted in his seat, subtly removing his hold on Alys’ shoulder. His arm was still on the couch behind her, but there was no longer a physical connection. It wasn’t intentional, but nothing except how he looked at Y/N.

“Excuse you?” Alys asked.

“She’s an old dog. She was old when Aemond and I brought her home and that was two years ago. When she isn’t playing outside or eating all she wants is to lay on the couch or in bed with her people,” Y/N said to her. Her eyes moved between Aemond’s amused expression and Alys’ shocked one.

There was a crushing weight in her chest when Aemond looked at her. It wasn’t a secret that they had been…well whatever they were. They had attended every party Aegon threw, every academic ceremony Helaena was honored at, every work party his family had forced him to attend as a couple. Everyone knew.

Until four months ago when she stopped showing up. When her things started slowly disappearing from his apartment, and he slowly disappeared from her online life. Nobody knew what happened. All anyone knew was that once they were Aemond and Y/N, an entity, now they were Aemond and Y/N, two people.

His eyes, one a brilliant violet and one a scarred, cloudy blue, raked over her face. She looked at him and she wondered if it burned him the way it burned her. She felt the dread fueled flames licking their way through her heart in a painful desperation.

“I’ll see you later, Hel,” Y/N said to her, never once tearing her eyes from Aemond as she stood up. It was only when she saw him begin to lean forward, towards her, that found the motive to look away and walk out of the house.

The days following the party was a dredge through life. Y/N couldn’t sleep, her every sleeping moment consumed by him and the life they had together. Her pain and grief was pressing down on her heart. An Aemond sized void could be felt in the smallest moments.

When she was in the shower, her fingers would brush over her shoulder in such a way she could forget he wasn’t the one washing her. She would be reading on the couch and for a moment, she swore she could smell his cologne. Her favorite Chinese restaurant was his favorite Chinese restaurant, and when she ate their food she was taken back to their fourth date.

Their fourth date. He took her to a car show, the summer heat driving them to get ice cream. When the burning afternoon chilled into a twilight sky, he took her to the best Chinese buffet around. Their talking had lasted for hours as though they forgot that they had known each other for near as long as she’s known Helaena. She was seven when she first stepped foot into the Targaryen residence, Aemond being five. It wasn’t until he was twenty that he stopped seeing her as his sister’s best friend and she became more.

It was that date that he kissed her for the first time. A kiss that melted into twenty. It shattered her universe and fixed every part of her all at once.

She swore that night she could’ve spent more time kissing him than anything else. If she had it her way, those stupid butterflies in her stomach would have never gone away. Every kiss, from the ones that brushed against her skin like a feather blowing in the wind to the ones that made her forget how to stay standing, was something she would’ve given a thousand lifetimes to keep.

It had been seven months since their dissolution when he showed up at her doorstep. It was well past midnight when his knocks echoed off of every wall and she opened the door for no other reason than to avoid her neighbors calling the cops. He reeked of Aegon’s home brews, swaying slightly with his every breath. She had never seen him look such a mess. His hair, where every long, silver strand normally laid in perfect unison, moving like a curtain in every step, had knots throughout. Both eyes teary, his cheeks splotched red.

“What is it?” she whispered to him. Aemond was never sloppy. His every moment was perfectly calculated. Such displays were sure to embarrass him whenever he lost control, but she truly believed he was too drunk.

“Come home, baby,” he said as he leaned against the door frame.

“I am home,” she told him sharply.

“No, you aren’t. You’re not in our bed with Vhagar at your feet. You’re not wrapped in my arms all night. You’re not home.” His voice held a pitiful desperation, it’s strength wavering after every word.

“Alys is. Go home to her,” she said, beginning to shut the door in his face. He put his hand on it, pushing it open so as to not break his view of her.

“Baby,” he whispered, begged.

“I made my choice, you made yours,” she reminded him.

“That’s it, then? You decide to walk away and we don’t even get to have a conversation? We’re not even friends?” The tears that had built up in his eyes slid freely down his cheeks, staining his skin.

“We can’t be friends!” she shouted at him. “You think I didn’t want to just go back? To go back to when you were my best friend’s nerdy little brother who spent more time in his room than should be allowed? To go back to before I was in love with you?”

“Then why say no?!” he shouted at her.

Only someone who didn’t know him would confuse it for anger. It was the same desperate passion that a man truly in love would hold, like when The Duke confessed his passions for Daphne in Bridgerton. His words vibrated through her body. If his kiss could fix every part of her, his pathetic pining for her could break her.

“You couldn’t even call me your girlfriend and you expect me to believe you were truly ready to marry me?” she whispered.

He stepped past the threshold of the apartment. His hands found the side of her face, cupping it gently. His hands were softer than she thought they would be the first time he touched her. He rode a motorcycle, played baseball in high school. His hands should’ve been, she thought, covered in rough calluses. But they always felt soft, holding her with the gentleness of love.

“What do I need to do?” he asked her. “Should I hire a sky writer to let the whole of the city know my heart is yours? Maybe sing a god awful cover of whatever clichéd love song is circulating on the radio and dedicate to you?”

She tried to push his hands away. At least, she told herself it was an actual try. Her hands gripped his wrists as she gave a feeble shove against his weight. Yet, he somehow held her even more firmly without ever increasing the force behind his grasp.

“Perhaps if I blind myself entirely, right here and now? Sacrifice my only good eye so that you know your face is the last beautiful thing I will ever gaze upon?”

He leaned in and allowed his lips to ghost over her own. The barely existent touch set a fire ablaze in her soul, one that was only fanned as his lips moved across her face. The pressure increasing with each touch until he reached her lips again in a bruising kiss.

Aemond’s tears slipped between their lips, the saltiness of them mingling with the bitterness of the homemade wine he had drank before coming. His left hand moved from her face to pathetically grab at her side, then her hip, trying to pull her into him. Any space between them was unacceptable as they kissed.

He pulled away only when they needed to breathe. But he never moved his hands. He never gave her the chance to back away from him.

“Marry me and I will yell from the Hightower that I am the husband of the most ethereal of women. That she is one of beauty unheard of in centuries. That she is kind enough to do in silence what most would boast about. That she is one who brings a warmth into every room she enters that is enough to melt the heart of a man like me,” he said to her.

She glanced between his eyes and lips. She had dreamt of such a moment for years. It was like he had looked into her heart and found exactly what she yearned for.

“What about Alys?” she whispered.

“A woman who works with me. She owed me a favor. Never spoke to her outside of work until about thirty minutes before that party to tell her the most basic information she needed. Haven’t spoken to her since,” he said. “The only thing that’s in our way is your disbelief I would be proud to be your husband.”

In seconds, she kissed him. She needed their existence to become one. Seven months without him. Seven months where all she wanted was the one thing she felt she would never truly have. Seven months in which she waited for his love.

His right hand finally left her face, searching for her left hand. Without hesitation, he intertwined their fingers. They couldn’t be friends, but he wouldn’t stop until he was her husband.

[loki-cees-all]

Ch. 5 - Turn Against {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : Loki attempts to sneak out of your flat before you awaken.

W/c : 8.8k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, angst, and a touch of smut. 

Author's Note : Apologies this chapter took me so long to finish! After 6 months of working on it, it blew up to a length of 14k words and I ended up having to divide it into two chapters just to make the editing process more manageable. So congrats, this fic is now a grand total of 20 chapters! Yay!

Also, just fyi - I basically wrote the whole thing (so, Chapters 5 and 6 together) while watching Infinity War and Endgame on repeat, if that gives you any insight as to my mental state, or the amount of angst these chapters have. So, uh…good luck!! <3 

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

A pair of ethereal beings slumbered peacefully in your bed. 

Twisted among the silken sheets, your angelic form was snuggled against the chest of Loki’s duplicate - a leg hooked around one of his, an arm draped across his torso. Your fingers twitched in your sleep, your lungs slowly inhaled and exhaled in sync with that of his seidr. The only thing you had on was a quiet, serene expression - one that meant you were blissfully unaware of the trickery that had already befallen you, or of the cruel disappearing act that was yet to come. 

The true Loki approached your bed with incredible precision, moving cautiously so as to not disturb the exquisite goddess or her beauty sleep. His gaze roamed lazily over your every curve, your every spasm and pulse, every inch of skin peeking out from beneath the sheets. The polish on your toes was cherry-red, the freckles on your back replicated the stars of the night sky, and the air from your lungs was sweet, intoxicating, mellifluous.  

The entire scene was breathtaking, but that wasn’t what was suffocating him. 

As he paused by your side, you stirred a little in your sleep - muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your face twitched lightly, brushing your cheek against the duplicate’s skin, and he responded in kind by holding you closer, squeezing you tighter, soothing and comforting you under the true Loki’s direction. And it worked; you relaxed in that false embrace, reassured by the solace of his presence enough to resume the slow, deep breathes in, and then back out. 

This time, it was Loki’s turn for his breath to hitch. How was this possible? Why did you find serenity with him? What did you see in him that he could never see himself?

His eyes flicked to the mimic in bed with you. It matched his appearance in every single way, from the dark curls spread across the pillow to the tips of his fingers now tracing light circles along your arm. Its scent was the same, its voice would have been identical if you had needed to hear it. He could have switched places with it in less than a second, just to have you in his own arms once more, and you never would have known the difference.  

Because the duplicate was him: a literal, physical manifestation of his deceit, cradling you tenderly while you slept. While the real one searched your apartment for the evidence of an addiction you clearly hadn’t developed yet. While he neglected his responsibilities back at the TVA, because he was too preoccupied with a future problem that he might cause to fully focus on the massive problem he’d definitely helped to cause at the end of time. 

As usual, his attentions were divided. Lately it seemed as though any attempt to solve a problem would just create two more in its place. And forever the masochist, Loki was drifting hopelessly between the past, present, and future; stuck between a rock and a hard place, while being unable to fully focus on either. 

He was trapped inside a personal Hel of his very own making. 

It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t found you until after he’d broken the timelines. Without judgment or sound reason, you gazed upon him like the sun looked down at the clouds, parting the storms of his heart and warming the oceans of his mind, stilling the thoughts that swirled in nervous energy, and regret, and prayers that he could somehow be different for the both of you. That he didn’t have to choose between you or the TVA. 

That he could somehow be with you, without being Loki. 

He couldn’t help but wonder: if you’d been born on Asgard, would you still feel the same way about him? If you had grown up together, if you knew all of his secrets and heartbreaks and betrayals, would you have still slept this peacefully in his arms? Would you still look at him like he was somehow everything you’d ever wanted?

Perhaps in another timeline you did, and if he could manage to save the TVA after all, then maybe afterwards he should go searching for it. 

Outside your flat, the sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. Its rays drifted in through the bay windows of your bedroom to bring on a beautiful, new day. But Loki needed to leave before you woke up. Actually saying goodbye wasn’t an option - because he couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either, and he certainly couldn’t predict the future. 

In fact, no one knew what was going to happen now that the timelines were free, but he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that somehow this would only end with his self-sacrifice; dying was the only sure way Loki knew how to redeem himself, and even if you never knew about it, he would have happily done it for you. 

But even in the off chance that their efforts with the Loom were successful and he didn’t have to sacrifice himself - the next problem on the TVA’s To Do List was to deal with the variants of He Who Remains and their potential for waging multiversal war. And after that, there would inevitably be a thousand other problems for him to deal with, each one with more dire consequences than the last, and Loki would never be able to stop. 

He’d never be able to take a moment to breathe, to exist, to just love you. 

Loki wasn’t sure if he was in love with you now, but the appeal of letting himself feel something good was too much to ignore; in truth, he was only safe to feel it because he knew it was going to obliterate him later on, and it was why he couldn’t deny himself one last touch. 

Kneeling beside the bed, the arm of his duplicate lifted slowly from your body. And as if it had been rehearsed, the true Loki brought his fingertips to brush through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. As if he were doing it mindlessly in his sleep, instead of doing it fully conscious while his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

And he didn’t know if he was even capable of loving you. Loki had spent centuries hurting and longing for what he couldn’t have, bitter and resentful to what he had too much of, and disillusioned over everything else in between. At no point in his long life had his experiences ever been what anyone might call normal, especially not to a mere and simple human, and he’d long since forgotten what it was like to just be, let alone to have something he actually wanted to hold on to. 

When Loki was younger, he believed love to be a calculated decision that required delicate measurement of the pros and cons. Which option would benefit Asgard the most as the spouse of its disinclined and least favorite prince? Who would be the most trustworthy to safeguard an outcast’s heart? 

Back then, the obvious choice would have been whomever could simply tolerate him while maintaining an innocuous distance. It never would have been real, just like this couldn’t ever be. 

As his fingers began another pass through your hair, he wondered what sort of tragedy had happened in your younger years to make you cling so tightly to such a broken thing like him. Had you loved, and then lost? Had you failed someone in the way he was about to fail you? Had you repeatedly cracked open your soul, only to have no one even notice? 

Whatever it was, whatever atrocity had made you look at him like that, Loki both cherished and cursed it. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to make it worse. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it. To nurture it, to smother it, to let it rise and then push it back down. He wanted to be the cause of it, and then to be its cure. 

His eyes filled with tears - big, wet, silent, pathetic ones. The tears of a child no longer allowed to keep the only thing that had ever brought him any kind of solace. His chest tightened, and he could feel the tears bleeding down his cheeks, painting sharp lines of misery and staining his skin red for anyone who dared to look closely enough. 

This was so absurd, his reactions and feelings were so unbelievably foolish, because you were just a human. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. Your perspective, by design, was so much more limited than his. What could you possibly ever have in common with him? Or him with you?

Whatever was waiting in your future - perhaps he was just overthinking it. Maybe the addiction had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he was just projecting, maybe your feelings for him were nothing but casual ones, maybe you’d be able to completely forget about him as soon as he walked out the door. You’d be better off without him anyway. 

That thought brought him some comfort, while quietly slitting his throat. 

He swallowed hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. What was it that he was supposed to say on Svartalfheim, about Thor falling in love with the mortal Jane Foster? 

It’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready. 

Loki’s biggest problem had always been never knowing when to walk away - and if he didn’t do it now, then it might someday be completely out of his control. Your path might lead you down a branched timeline, one that another rogue TVA agent could destroy. The Loom’s explosion could take out everyone and everything. Loki himself could accidentally get you killed, or worse - you could finally see him for what he really was, and decide to walk away from him instead. 

The only woman whose love you’ve prized will be snatched from you. 

Letting out a restrained breath, he dragged his hand across his face to wipe away the tears, while the other’s gentle touch remained in your hair. This was going to be tricky; once he left your bedroom, Loki was going to have to carefully withdraw the duplicate from your bed - slowly, cruelly, and without waking you up. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone one last time, and just as he was debating on whether to kiss you goodbye, you startled yourself awake with a sharp gasp. 

Loki panicked, and quickly switched places with the duplicate. His kneeling form beside the bed disappeared before you could fully open your eyes. His muscles tightened, and with a gasp of his own, and he pretended to just be waking up alongside you. 

“Are you alright, darling?” he murmured breathlessly, nudging your temple with his nose and praying that you couldn’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

“Huh? Oh…” Your eyelids fluttered quickly, attempting to blink away the sleep from your eyes. When you finally recognized him next to you, only then did your breathing slow. “No, I’m fine…”

He struggled to not let out a massive sigh of relief at that. Your grogginess had mercifully prevented notice of the two Lokis that had momentarily been in your presence, and he shuddered to think of what your reaction may have been had you seen it. 

“Bad dream?” he asked softly, his fingers resuming their bittersweet caresses against your scalp. 

Again, you had found solace within his touch. Your muscles relaxed as you sank back into his embrace, and his followed suit, finding just as much consolation in giving it as you did in receiving it. He couldn’t believe how little effort it took to bring you comfort, and in contrast, he could believe how little it took for him to offer it. 

“Do you ever dream you’re falling so hard that your body thinks it’s actually falling…?”

Of course, his consultation was different. Unable to slip out quietly like he’d planned, he was now staring at the daunting task of actually saying goodbye - and possibly lying to your beautiful face in the process. Once again, hesitation had cost him dearly, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to make a timely decision ever again.

“Of course. All the time, really…” 

But truthfully, a part of him was extremely grateful for the chance to be in bed with you again. He adored the sensation of your warm skin against his, just as alluring and soft as it had been the night before. Stirring up all the same desires, making him ache for an encore performance. As his fingers drifted through your hair, the scent of gardenias stimulated the memories of his first kiss between the rows of Midgardian flora his mother had grown in her garden. 

During the few times he’d had lovers in the past, mornings were always his favorite; the lazy kisses, bodies moving on autopilot but not without purpose or reason. It meant that the night before wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional, it was deliberate, it was worth repeating. He was actually wanted, and the idea of bringing on the new, terrible day with a subdued brisance of ecstasy was -  

Loki scolded himself for letting his mind wander from this devastating predicament. His fingers drifted through your hair once more, brushing and massaging in the hope of keeping you from noticing the confliction on his face. Should he just promise to come back, even though he didn’t know if it was possible? Should he tell you it was goodbye forever instead, and then never return even on the off chance that he could? 

You let out a peaceful hum as his fingers trailed down to your neck, pressing gently into the muscles and tendons to relieve any knots they found. Every part of you practically melted underneath his touch, and you snuggled into him deeper, unable to get enough. Your leg wrapped around his again, your lips brushed against the bare skin of his chest, and your gentle fingertips trailed along the lines of his abdomen. 

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I woke up…” 

His lips curved into a sad smile. Every murmured word was like another chain of iron locked around his ankles. Loki was used to ruining everything, and he knew he still might, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger just yet. Being of genuine use was a pleasure he was rarely afforded any more, even though it was all he really wanted. 

When he had purpose, he had a place to belong. 

“I’m still here, darling…” Loki had to stop himself from continuing, from promising to never leave, from cursing the TVA and all that was waiting for him back there. He was never one to subscribe to the ideology of “what will be, will be” before, but that option was looking better and better with each passing moment. 

You shifted on the bed, working your lips up his chest, kissing over his heart and up to his collarbone. “And I am so very grateful that you are…” you hummed against his neck. 

Unable to resist the effects of desire as it flooded his veins, Loki let out a deep groan. He tilted his head back to allow you better access to his flesh, your lips soft and warm as you tasted his skin. Why couldn’t he just stay here forever? Where pleasure was given and received so freely, and without expectation? 

Once you were properly kissing his neck, his hands acted of their own accord, latching on to your ass and pulling you up to straddle him completely. You must have enjoyed that, because you gasped softly and eagerly pressed your hips to his, rolling and dragging yourself against his quickly hardening cock. 

Your tongue swiped at his skin while you kissed and sucked on his neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. The exhales from his nose were heavy, his moans were urgent, shameless. His muscles tightened and stretched underneath you, and he started to forget he’d ever heard of the Time Variance Authority before. Loki gripped your ass harder, encouraging your every movement. 

“Are you sure you’ve got no other place to be?” you murmured breathlessly, grinding yourself just a little harder against him, clearly wanting this just as much as he did.  

His cock twitched hungrily, his fingers dug their need into your skin. Loki would gladly trade the next millennia or two in happy exchange to keep such a beautifully eager woman writhing against him. He groaned out a sound reminiscent of the word “no” before cupping your jaw and angling your mouth to his. 

Deeply passionate kisses consumed you both, and your arms locked around his neck. You passed heated moans back and forth, and Loki could feel how much you wanted this as you coated his cock in arousal. He began adjusting your hips to allow him entry when you murmured one last question against his lips. 

“So you’re not married? No wife or kids to get back home to?” 

Loki froze, and then burst into laughter. His entire body shook as his head tilted back with eyes closed, eyebrows raised, completely flabbergasted by the idea. Married? With children?! Who could be foolish enough to do such a thing with him?

When he managed to compose himself enough to open his eyes, the forlorn expression on your face sobered him completely. Concern had pulled your eyebrows to the heavens, and your lips had parted with childlike embarrassment to both your question, and his unexpected reaction to it. He forced himself to stop laughing, to position his brow into sincerity as he caressed your cheeks with both hands. 

“Darling, darling, darling…what could have possibly possessed you to ask such a thing?” he murmured cautiously, dragging his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes desperately searched yours, trying to see what it was that troubled you.

“Well, it’s just that…You know, I just don’t - ” you sighed, then paused to chew on the inside of your cheek. 

Loki’s heart ached as you stammered along while carefully avoiding his gaze. It would have been adorable, if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking. 

Of course, Loki had a sinking feeling about what you were really after, but he didn’t know how to explain himself. The only other experience he could possibly derive guidance from had happened to his brother, but even that wasn’t the same; Jane Foster had always understood Thor to be a mythological being of the cosmos from the very beginning. 

As usual, his brother hadn’t needed to lie about who he was or where he was from; Thor had never once needed to endure the humiliation of trying to explain himself. And as usual, Loki found himself envious of the blind confidence that flashed like lightning through every fiber of Thor’s being. It wasn’t fair that he’d never had to prepare for situations like this. 

Situations like this, where Loki definitely should have known better. 

Because it wasn’t like their father had ever provided instructions on how to break the news of their otherworldly existences to their mortal lovers; in fact, Odin had explicitly forbidden the idea altogether. And as he watched the gears whirling in your mind, as they tried to put the right words in the correct order, or maybe they were trying to spool up enough energy to just blurt it out - Loki wished that he had listened to his father. 

He wished that none of this had ever happened. He wished that he’d never been kidnapped by the TVA, he wished that he’d never met Brad Wolfe. He wished that he’d never decided to get back at him by seducing his date to the movie premiere. He wished the duplicate Tony Stark had never dropped the Tesseract, and he wished that he’d never picked it up at all.

Loki wished he could wake up tomorrow in the dungeons of Asgard. He wished he could experience, first-hand, the deaths of his mother, and then his father. He wished he could personally hammer that final nail into the coffin of his brother’s trust. He wished it could be his neck that Thanos had snapped. 

Because even if everything worked out perfectly - even if you somehow accepted his truth, something no one else had ever managed to do, even if he managed to save the TVA and all the timelines, even if he was able to stop HWR and prevent multiversal war - in 50 years time, you would still be gone. 

If he was lucky, he’d be able to watch your hair fade to gray. He would be able to count the smile lines as they grew along your cheeks, and he’d be there for every single frown, every single moment of joy. Every spot of luck, every inconvenience, every tragedy, every victory. But then he’d also have to watch it all turn to ash, and he’d have to continue on alone after you were gone. 

Seeing the ones he loved come and go, watching them pass him by while he was powerless to stop it, was a burden he was simply unwilling to bear. 

Loki’s attention was drawn to your lips as they started moving. The sound of your voice was muffled in his ears, and your eyes darted back and forth between staring off into the distance and making brief, heartbreaking contact with his. He could tell you were stammering and struggling to make sense of your thoughts, but he was too busy picturing your casket to even really listen. 

“I just - I just don’t know anything about you, Loki!” 

The exclamation was made out in defiance of yourself. It was only then that your gaze became totally affixed to his - watching, waiting, hoping for some kind of answer from the stranger in your bed. 

Loki matched your anticipatedly heartsick expression with one of his own. His brows slanted upwards while his eyes grew immense with regret and remorse; for someone whose many monikers included the God of Lies, he was truthfully finding himself completely out of his depth with you. His throat tightened, sealing off his lungs from the air in your bedroom, but he somehow managed a meager smile. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much to know about me, darling,” Loki replied, hoping to assuage some imaginary guilt you may have been harboring. He prayed this was all you really needed to hear, anyway. “But I can assure you, wholeheartedly, that I do not have a spouse, nor any children, that I’m hiding from you…”

You stared at him closely while he spoke, as if you were looking for any twitch or vellication that might have betrayed his answer. Once none could be found, your eyes narrowed in careful dissection of what appeared to be the truth. Loki’s heart fluttered with twinges of nervous energy and pure admiration for the only mortal he’d ever felt drawn to; he just hoped you were aware of how intelligent you were, and how much it both terrified, and impressed, him. 

After another moment or two, your demeanor shifted once more, altering your calculating gaze into something much more friendly and open-minded. You smiled sweetly while bending your elbow against a pillow and propping your head against your palm. The fingertips of your other hand moved to trace light, swirling patterns against his bare chest, and Loki was sure that this time you could feel his breath hitch inside his lungs. 

“Can you tell me what you do for a living then?” you murmured softly, clearly attempting a different tactic to pull his precious details out into the open. 

But Loki could still see right through your methods. He was, unfortunately, quite used to being interrogated for both the things he had and had not actually done; when you’re known to the Nine Realms as the God of Mischief, everyone practically falls over themselves trying to be the one to finally catch you in the act of malfeasance, just to prove to everyone else how clever and ingenuitive they were. 

And as much as it hurt to constantly be on the receiving end of such distrust and misfortune, it had also fortified and strengthened Loki’s adaptability and perseverance. But the one thing he hadn’t ever counted on was that someday he’d find himself in the bed of the most beautiful and extraordinary lover he’d ever known, who was asking him for the kind of truth he simply had no way to provide. 

“It’s…complicated,” Loki answered with a patient sigh. He brought his fingertips to caress the back of your hand as it traced over his skin. The contact was so very soothing to him, and he hoped it would, at the very least, be a distraction for you. 

But it didn’t work. Instead, your gaze burned hotter into his. “If there’s not much to know about you, then how complicated could it really be?” 

Loki chuckled as he dragged his knuckles up the length of your forearm. “Oh, you’d be surprised…” 

“Well, thankfully I love those. So I’m all ears.” You shifted closer on the bed, hooking one of your bare legs around his, flexing your foot to brush slowly along the inside of his calf. The smile on your lips was patiently, and infuriatingly, insistent. 

Loki’s breath hitched yet again. His blood chilled underneath the weight of someone paying such close and affectionate attention to him; he simply didn’t know what to do with it. He never had. 

Almost with a mind of their own, his eyes shifted down to his fingertips as they resumed tracing up the length of your arm. Despite everything, Loki couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you, even though he knew it was just further trapping him within a time loop of lingering and longing. 

And you didn’t recoil when he touched you; that would never, ever cease to surprise, or alarm, him. Thus, a game of tug of war ensued deep within his heart - a hand of cold, gnarled fingers pulling it towards outright vitriol, and a kind, loving hand attempting to guide it towards acceptance. But both destinations were terrifying in their own ways, and neither hand was able to make any significant progress. 

Loki cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours while you waited for his reply. His thoughts raced by at a trillion miles an hour. They collided and smashed together behind his signature furrowed brow and measured persona, fracturing and blending into an unrecognizable mess - one that was completely uncharacteristic, uncomfortable and unforgivable to the God of Mischief. Selecting a single and coherent idea was going to be next to impossible, and he absolutely loathed feeling this out of control over his own mind. 

“Why do you need to know so badly?”

It was the only thing he could manage to say, and he immediately regretted it. The way your face fell rivaled the destruction of many great civilizations the Nine Realms had known and lost over the past millennia. Your eyes widened like the Bifrost’s beam as it opened upon the cold, barren wasteland of Jotunheim. 

Your breath hitched like the innocent citizens of New York when the Chitauri Army descended from the Heavens. Your formerly warm skin turned colder than Thor’s expression when the last flames of hope that Loki might still turn things around died on his features. 

But Loki knew that to be an impossible endeavor, if your anguish was to be any sort of indication. He’d never be able to turn things around, not really. He was very well accustomed to judgment, and of condemnation - to conviction without trial, and to criticism without consideration. They were the necessary bedfellows that came with his title. 

And they were comfortable, familiar. They allowed him to stand defiant in the face of total and complete reckoning, and they also saved him from the problem of trying, and inevitably failing, to be better than anyone could ever hope for him to be. 

But the look on your face right now was something else entirely. Your eyebrows arched upwards, recreating the highest precipice of the Asgardian palace - a home that wasn’t ever really his, one that was built with shimmering gold and the most rubious of blood. Along with the emerald of your sheets, those were the only colors he really knew how to paint with. 

It was honestly shocking how much your expression truly rattled him; he felt like a child again, cowering behind his mother’s skirts because he hadn’t yet figured out how to talk his way out of whatever trouble he’d found himself in. Except this time, there was no Frigga to do the talking for him. There were no skirts, or titles, or utter defiance for him to hide behind - it was just you, and him, laid bare and mute underneath the silk sheets of your bed. 

Loki was sure that he’d ruined everything…again. What he didn’t know, however, was why your reaction was one of hurt. He had seen the spark dim in your eyes and he could feel you recoiling even as your mouth opened and closed, in slow-motion and without sound, as you attempted to answer his slightly cruel, albeit fair, question. 

Why did you need to know so badly? Why was he starting to fear that this may be more than a passing dalliance to you? Why did that warm his heart with feelings of worthiness, while simultaneously cracking it under the weight of all that responsibility? 

So maybe it would be better to let that question fester into an open wound of resentment, instead of trying to reassure, or deflect, or explain. Despite being all too aware of his own shortcomings, Loki had no idea how to broach the subject himself; that was something that was always done for him. He’d never had to suffer the drought of no one to remind him of his repeated failings before, and thus, never really learned how to bring them up on his own. Where would he even start explaining?

Not to mention, this might make leaving easier. He could just stand up and get dressed, taking the time to actually button and buckle and fasten the Midgardian ensemble he’d conjured just for you, while he repeated the question and made you feel like a fool for wanting to know him better. Didn’t you know he was just using you? That this wasn’t ever going to be serious and that it was just for the game, for the chase, for the sex? 

Loki knew how to be cruel. It was the only thing he was better at than being a massive, colossal force of chaos and destruction - and he’d learned it from the very best. Callosity was like breathing to him; he didn’t feel alive unless he was driving a dagger into someone else’s heart. And then afterwards mocking them so they couldn’t see that he was bleeding even more than they were. 

That was easy. It was familiar, it was safe. 

It was home. It was his home. 

Finally accepting the inevitable, Loki let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t carry on with this imposture any longer, it was too risky. You could find out what he really was, or you could simply not believe his explanation at all. 

Loki raked a nervous hand through his dark and tangled curls as he straightened his back away from your headboard. He swallowed hard, steeling his expression into something far more neutral than how he felt, and then he forced himself to finally use his favorite dagger of betrayal once more. 

“Listen, darling…I - ” 

A sharp, piercing ring suddenly echoed across the flat, and behind it, followed a penetrative silence. Its air was tense, suffocating the rest of his sentence and making it perish on his tongue. The sound of metal striking metal in that brief and frenzied rhythm was unexpected, but the Asgardian still was able to recognize the source of the noise as an innocent and harmless doorbell. He remained unreactive, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.

Your response, however, was different; you’d practically jumped out of your skin, clearly not expecting your own doorbell to ring at such an imperative moment. Your heart beat a rapid cadence inside your chest, and there was just a tiny bit of air lodged in your throat. 

But other than a vigorous heartbeat and your lungs heaving for more oxygen, you didn’t move. You said nothing, you did nothing - you just stared at him like it was his fault the doorbell had rung. 

Sensing your need for a push, Loki reached forward, gently brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Darling, were you expecting additional visitors?”

Your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, and your eyelids blinked once, twice, three times as you processed his latest question. Your brow raised and then furrowed as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, your eyes desperately trying to decipher the lines and numbers and what they meant when illuminated together. 

Loki wasn’t sure if you were still exhausted from the very late night you’d spent with him, or if his first question had rattled you that much. But the look on your face was honestly so adorable that he almost forgot that he’d been only seconds away from saying goodbye forever. 

“Darling?” he murmured again just before the doorbell rang again, this time in a short series of three bursts to indicate the visitor’s urgency. 

And this time, it suddenly clicked in your mind that it was your responsibility to actually answer the door. You quickly mumbled excuses as you popped upright, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and practically gliding across the bedroom to throw something on. 

Once again, desire roared to life in his veins, and he was unable to stop himself from admiring your naked form as you moved. As your muscles and tendons and ligaments all stretched and contracted with such supernal purpose, as your delicate hands reached for the silken, phthalo green fabric draped across the bench at the foot of your bed. Practiced fingers worked quickly to push both arms through the robe’s sleeves and situate the collar around your neck as you continued heading for the door. 

Each movement was stunning and comforting, and Loki watched as though he were in the presence of a divinity so healing it could easily cure him of everything that had ever aggrieved, bruised or lacerated him. Watching you quite literally took his breath away; never before had the God of Mischief been so entranced, so mesmerized, so captivated by the simple act of getting dressed. 

He didn’t even mind when you pulled the panels closed around your waist, obfuscating the curves and swells of your thighs and hips and torso. Because he’d already memorized your form; it was etched so profoundly into his mind that he wasn’t sure how deep it actually went. 

And without even trying to, you answered every question he’d ever had. It made him want to ask even more questions, like why was the sky blue? How many stars could you count before you finally lost track? Would you object to ignoring the doorbell and having breakfast in bed with him instead?

Loki barely registered another triplicate of harsh doorbell rings, but he was aware of you disappearing through the door frame with an exasperated shout to the mystery caller. 

“Yes, yes! I’m coming, I’m coming…” 

Your bedroom was noticeably colder after you left; your bed, freezing. Loki swallowed hard, his lonely gaze falling upon the heap of his wrinkled suit, pulled off in a hurry the evening before and discarded carelessly on the floor. Somewhere in the pockets of his trousers lay the TemPad, ready to transport him back to the TVA and all its problems - both the ones he’d already caused, and the future problems still waiting to be revealed. 

Loki pulled the sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of your bed. His head hung low, shoulders dropped and tendrils of the darkest night hanging in his eyes, blending into his perception of what you’d left behind. Down the hallway, he could hear you speaking to the visitor through the flat’s intercommunication system, blissfully unaware of the plight distressing the God you’d just spent the night with.

How did his life turn into this? All he’d wanted was a chance to breathe, to let his muscles finally relax. To possibly let his body finally heal after all the horrors he’d endured so far. But instead, he found himself locked in the sham of a fascist organization, and the only way to escape it was to dismantle it from the inside. That, in turn, somehow and inexplicably, had led him to all of this. It had brought him right here to you. 

This room, and him inside of it, was now a barren, withering moon; a lifeless satellite, drifting aimlessly in the dark without its shining star to tether itself to. His sun was so far away now, unlocking the front door to her universe and happily greeting her unexpected visitor. He could feel the warmth of your light by the smile in your voice, in the way you laughed in excitement from whatever the visitor had to say. The sound was so alluring, beckoning him closer like the call of the most tempting siren. 

Weary muscles groaned as Loki pushed himself up to standing. He desperately didn’t want to go, but time was running out; any moment now you’d return to the bedroom, and he’d have to say goodbye face-to-face. That was a scene he knew he did not have the strength to withstand, not after everything else he’d already lost. He’d much rather just run away again. 

His feet shuffled forward, and Loki reluctantly retrieved his trousers from the floor. They were heavier than they should have been, what with the tremendous weight of the multiverse conveniently stored inside the compact and portable device hidden in his pocket. It was too much responsibility; how much easier this would all be if he could just forsake it and stay here instead. 

Stalling, Loki chose to ignore the option of spellwork to get dressed. He thought about intentionally smashing the TemPad to destroy it entirely, and take away the option of leaving altogether - but instead he slipped one foot through the trouser leg. 

Out in the kitchen, you were saying farewell to your visitor. Loki was dying to know who it was, and why they dropped by. He wondered if he could ever manage to blend into your life; could he charm your friends? Your parents? Could he actually handle having a job, and paying taxes, and pretending to go to the doctor once a year for a check-up? 

It couldn’t be worse than spending his youth trying to prove himself a worthy son to a father who would never see him as such. But could he stand manually getting dressed every morning? Could he really go that long without his seidr?

Loki slipped the other foot through its trouser leg. He thought about X-5, and how eager he was to return to this timeline, to this life. Was it a life with you he wanted, or did he just want to be loved after spending so much time in a place that had never once valued the individual experience? 

The front door to your flat was closed, and then locked. His trousers now buttoned and zipped, Loki picked up his white shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He thought about Mobius and his incredible self-restraint, how he was somehow easily managing to ignore the potentials of his own timeline. 

What if it’s something good? Do you think I wanna have that rattling around in here? 

It was as admirable as much as it was infuriating. If Mobius ever knew what he was considering, if Mobius ever discovered that Loki wasn’t giving his complete and undivided attention to the more pressing issue of the Temporal Loom, then he would be so impressively furious. He’d be so disappointed, he’d call Loki expedient and selfish and narcissistic. 

But didn’t Loki deserve something good for a change? He’d once had just about anything one could hope for, even with a disdainful shadow hanging over his shoulder. How much more would he have to lose before his selfishness was to be labeled justified, understandable, warranted? 

A long life of clinging to discarded scraps had made him selfish. But it wasn’t sickness, it was necessity. 

Of course he’d rather stay with you. Here, he was valued and appreciated. He was allowed to feel good, and dare he say it - wanted, even. Something he’d never once experienced in over a thousand years of tortured existence. Who wouldn’t be clinging to a liferaft while drowning in a vast ocean of nothingness? 

In the kitchen, the faucet was running, and the sound of cabinets opening and then closing echoed down the hallway. You were starting your day with or without him, it seemed. But that was to be expected, thanks to his earlier, thoughtless question, and it was a feeling he should have become used to by now. As Loki caught his reflection in the mirror above your bureau, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Only a few weeks had passed since he’d escaped from the clutches of Thanos and the Black Order, and this was the first time he’d gazed upon himself since the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. He was slimmer than he remembered. But instead of that gauntness sharpening his features as one would expect, Loki saw himself fading away within the hunger of yearning. His Godly features were dulling before his very own eyes, seeming to drift away into abstraction while he got dressed in a mortal suit and tie. 

Yet again, Loki was pretending to be something he wasn’t. That was all he’d ever done, instead of determining what it was that he wanted or forging his own path forward. He’d either do his best at what was expected of him, or he’d intentionally do the complete opposite of it, just to punish them for never asking what he wanted for himself. 

The irony was he’d never be able to answer that question. He simply didn’t know what he wanted. Even now, the TVA and all its people were both on the verge of total annihilation, and here he was wishing he could just crawl back into bed with a human. No matter which option he chose, the guilt of not picking the other might very well eat him away from the inside.  

But what if he didn’t have to choose between those two paths at all?

For the first time in his life, Loki could truly create his own destiny. There was no one pulling the strings anymore, no pre-fabricated tragedy for him to obediently succumb to. He could button up his shirt as fast or as slowly as he wanted, he could snake his feet into his socks and shoes, or forgo them entirely. He could join you in the kitchen, slip his arms around your waist, and he could promise to return soon. 

He could mean that promise, and it was possible that he could fulfill it too. 

Moving hastily, Loki finished getting dressed. He tucked the dress shirt into his trousers and he retrieved his tie from the floor, slipping its middle into his pocket and leaving the ends to dangle down the length of his thigh. He picked up his jacket from the floor, folded it neatly over his arm, and then he began his approach into the hallway with his chin held higher than it’d been in a very long time.

He could do this, he could make this work. He could have his Key Lime pie, and he could eat it too. 

Successfully ignoring the horned candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf, he instead admired your displayed photographs as he moved down the hallway. Your smile was so joyous and bright in all of them, but especially in the ones where you made goofy faces with your friends. When you dressed up for holidays with your family. While standing in front of that treasured crepe myrtle in the backyard of your childhood home, the one that clearly meant so very much to you. 

There was nothing in your past that indicated a miserable future, only the deep-seated roots of pleasant memories. Loki hoped that would be enough to keep you safe until he fixed the Loom, but he felt optimistic about his chances as he approached the kitchen; he was going to keep you from falling into the clutches of addiction, and he was going to save the Temporal Loom at the same time. There was no one around to decide that he wasn’t allowed to any longer. 

If there was only one true thing in the entirety of the multiverse, it was that he despised being told that he couldn’t do something. 

And afterwards, he would go to the Æsir to request a spell. If necessary, he’d return to Asgard to search their libraries, and he’d go to New York and interrogate the so-called Sorcerer Supreme. He’d tear apart the entirety of the Nine Realms if he had to - all in search of a way to allow you to live as long as he would, just so he’d never have to figure out how to say goodbye. 

After rounding the hallway’s corner, he found you were standing in front of the kitchen stove, carefully measuring out spoonfuls of dark brown granules and methodically pouring them into a tall, silver pot. Your eyes were bleary, your movements sluggish but not without purpose. But in that early morning light, while wearing nothing but a silk robe, Loki found you entirely and completely magnificent. 

“Would you like some coffee before you go?” 

Your question was soft and polite. There was an air of distance to it that Loki simply couldn’t blame you for, but it also wasn't anything he couldn’t fix. He flashed his best, most impeccable smile as he laid his suit jacket over a barstool and seated himself on the other. 

“Yes, that would be lovely, my dear, thank you.” 

On the other side of the counter, you tried to hide the shy smile that crept across your lips, but it was impossible for him to miss. He grinned in return, thinking how lucky he might be to someday get to see that smile every morning.

Shifting his attention, Loki watched closely as you quietly assembled the rest of the contraption before placing it on the range. He may have been slightly out of touch when it came to Midgardian habits, but he did understand coffee to be of great and immeasurable importance to humans. He’d even grown fond of it himself, after several expeditions in his youth to visit each of the Nine Realms. 

And he could tell this intricate procedure of yours was dutifully performed every single morning, regardless of how late you’d been up the night before. That it granted you comfort, and just the smallest bit of control amidst the rampant chaos of the world. So he watched carefully, intending to memorize the steps so that someday he could be able to perform this task for you instead. 

“Who was at the door earlier?” he asked softly, eager to avoid a return to the previous, more unpleasant conversation you’d almost had before. The one that no longer mattered. “Was it another gentleman caller hoping to have coffee with you?”  

You laughed and shook your head while removing a match from the cardboard box. “No. It was just the doorman, if you must know…” 

“Doormen still drink coffee, do they not?” Loki teased, his eyes sparkling and his shoulders shrugging innocently. 

You struck the match along the textured side of the matchbox. The tip ignited flawlessly, momentarily erupting into a wild, bulbous flame before settling into a controlled burn. 

“I mean, if I was your doorman, I’d certainly be up here to have coffee with you every morning…”

“Oh, would you now?” you murmured with a smile, shifting over to the stovetop and carefully adjusting the burner’s dial. You brought the lit match just close enough to ignite the burner, and then blew it out. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be a very good doorman if you were only focused on opening and closing my door…” 

This time it was Loki’s turn to laugh. He shifted on the barstool, his long legs splayed wild and leaning closer to you with his elbows on the counter. “Yes, I suppose I’d probably be dismissed pretty quickly, wouldn’t I?” 

“Mmhmm. And then you’d have to go to doorman remedial classes to restore your honor,” you grinned playfully while turning on the faucet to run cool water over the extinguished match, just to be certain that it was out completely. “That would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yes, and we can’t have that, can we?” Loki replied, tilting his head curiously. He found your behaviors to be quite intriguing; every action had a specific purpose, a unique rhythm to them. Every item had a designated place, a proper condition that it needed to exist as. You were clearly a meticulously neat person, and he thought it was terribly endearing. 

After tossing the thoroughly drenched match into the trash bin, you then pulled a folded cloth out of an overhead cupboard, let it soak under the running water, and then shut the faucet off. 

“So, tell me. What is it that exemplary doormen do while they’re on the job? Perhaps I just need a lesson or two…” 

Your arm swung in wide circles over the countertop, collecting any spilled coffee grounds with the damp cloth and guiding them into the sink. 

“Oh, he was just bringing up the script that was dropped off while I was out last night.” You nodded towards a neat stack of correspondence beside him on the counter. At the very bottom was a large, cream-colored packet with the words “PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL” stamped in red ink at each corner. 

“Well, that was very thoughtful of him.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Apparently he was very excited when he arrived at work this morning and saw it. He just couldn’t wait to bring it up here.”

“I see. And this doorman - is he a strapping young lad?” Loki grinned. It was hard to say if he just wanted to make you smile again, or if he was actually trying to suss out any potential competition for your affections. “A dashing gentleman, eager to impress a beautiful woman such as yourself?” 

The countertops now wiped clean, you made an amused and befuddled face as you began to rinse out the washcloth in the sink. “Oh, my God, no! He’s my father’s age, I’ve known him since I was a child.” 

Loki’s smile shifted into warmth, his heart full with the reassurance that there were so many people out there who loved and cared about you. He wondered if you knew how lucky you were, and what his life might have looked like if he had been afforded the same luxury. 

But as it was, everything seemed to be like it should. The vessel on the range was steadily heating up, thanks to the light blue flames licking up its sides from underneath. Your kitchen was spotless, he had a beautiful companion at his side, and for once, Loki wasn’t being hunted by an enemy hellbent on either killing him or ruining his life again. 

“I went to school with his daughter, and she’s still my best friend. So he thinks of me as like a second daughter,” you continued, wringing out the excess water from the cloth and draping it neatly over the faucet’s neck. 

“And what about this script made your second father so excited?” Loki asked, trying not to think about the fact that he’d once had two fathers himself, until he’d murdered his biological one. “Is it for a role you hope to get, or for a role you already have?”

You shifted to open another cupboard behind you. Inside, neat and organized stacks of matching dishware of the crispest white awaited your selection. You pulled out two sets of mugs and a saucer for each before turning back towards him. “Oh, it’s for - ” 

An unexpected, and loud, electronic chirp interrupted your answer. 

You both froze in place, but for very different reasons - your eyebrows raised, and your eyes darted around the flat as though you weren’t sure that you had actually heard the startling noise or not. You certainly had no idea what had caused it, and it showed in your expression. 

Loki froze because he knew the sound had come from the TemPad hidden inside his pocket. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[aquaquadrant]

pssst why is false's data weird?

oh yeah…

false backstory time: when the universe was trying to create her hels, it glitched, and she became false’s twin instead. surprise! it’s empires false.

here’s how a twin differs from a hels: twins are totally identical players, both in terms of base physical appearance and player data. they spawn together on their homeworld. neither twin is the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ one; they’re both a bit more complex than that.

making a hels is like, taking all the ‘bad’ stuff out of a bottle and dumping it into its own bottle, amplifying it in the process so it can fill the whole bottle. so you started with one bottle that had an even mix of good and bad, and ended with one bottle that has no bad stuff and one bottle chock full of bad stuff, way more than was in the original bottle (this is a generalization ofc and doesn’t apply to all hels situations).

BUT now imagine that after the bad bottle was made, there was an accident, and half of each bottle spilled into new bottles. so you have two bottles that each have half good and half bad. this might seem similar to the original bottle you started with, except remember that when the bad stuff got pulled out, it got amplified. so both bottles end up having more bad stuff than the original source, but not as much bad stuff as a true hels would.

if none of that makes sense, hopefully this shitty illustration on some scrap paper will make it more clear:

so like, instead of being one overworlder and one hels, they are two half-overworlder half-hels players. both false’s have the same data, here’s how u get it.

start w the original (what overworld false’s data would’ve been):

87d91548-6f18-491f-a267-7833caa5d7d8

make it hels (what her hels’s data would’ve been):

-8d7d5ssc3387-762a-t194-81t6-84519d78

combine first part of second one with second part of first one and stick the minus sign on the other side. now you’ve got twins:

8d7d5ssc3387-762a-t194-87d91548-6f18-

so yeah that’s false’s data. also assume i’m talking abt hermitcraft false when i say false, empires false will be e!false.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

netherborns don't have evil counterparts (its not some clever Christian joke, the Nether is just it's own society, the big change in code that created clone realities of some overworld and end creatures just didn't occur in nether all those years ago) so you can imagaine he was hella confused for a While when he met EX. or true symmetry. or hels. he just thought it was Weird the hermits never mentioned having a twin sibling! oh and his reaction when there was ANOTHER. THIRD FALSE-

anyways ex sputtered for like 2 minutes when tango Dared to call him a brother of The Derp

.