#here's agent mango

[msmoon-and-the-cyberdemon]

On this day, Victim was born and the Animation vs Animator series began. It’s been such a crazy ride and I can’t wait for the next episode! *dies*

[the-badger-mole]

A Bend in the Stream

Zuko sat up in bed, gasping. He looked around wildly. It took a few moments for his confusion to wane, but soon he was able to recognize the familiar trappings of his room. The one above the tea shop that his uncle was making famous with his delicate blends. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk that would be in King Kuei's suites.

After registering his surroundings, Zuko sighed and let his body flop back onto his bed. His racing heart slowly returned to a steady beat. It had all been a dream after all. Being captured by the Dai Li; the moment with the waterbender in the caverns; Azula offering him a chance to redeem himself; the death of the Avatar... It was all just a bizarrely vivid dream. Just as Zuko was drifting back off to sleep, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities."

"Uncle," Zuko groaned, letting his head loll back onto his pillow.

"Don't take too long," Iroh said. "I have wonderful news! We're serving tea at King Kuei's court!"

"What?" Zuko sat upright and stared at Iroh in disbelief. That was how his dream had begun. Iroh, however, seemed to have taken his nephew's reaction as excitement.

"I got the news last night," he told Zuko. "It seems word of my mango jasmine blend has spread farther than I realized! I would have told you sooner, but you weren't here. Hurry, hurry! We still have to help with the morning rush before we go."

"Yes..." Zuko said distractedly. "That's right..."

"Breakfast is ready when you are." With that Iroh nearly skipped out of his nephew's room, humming a cheerful song under his breath.

Zuko got dressed and hurried through his meal (rice porridge with nuts and dried fruit was too common a breakfast for Zuko to read into it's similarities of his dream breakfast). Then he dressed and headed down to the tea shop. The feeling of deja vu was annoyingly sharp, but Zuko reasoned that his life had become so unusually predictable lately that his mind was still adjusting to the similarities of the day to day grind. So many of the customers were regulars at the tea house, it was no wonder he was learning all the orders already, despite his indifference.

At last, it was time to go serve tea to King Kuei. Something in Zuko's stomach turned. It was a sharp turning feeling in the pit of his stomach. King Kuei's palace was too familiar. He'd never been before, so how could he have dreamed it up in such detail? Zuko's hackles were up as he and his uncle were led to the room where they were to be received. It was just like his dream. Why were they being kept waiting for so long? Eventually, the wait began to grate on Zuko, and he paced the floor nervously.

"Calm down, Nephew," Iroh chided. He poured himself a cup of tea, completely unbothered.

"What's taking so long?" Zuko growled in frustration.

"Perhaps King Kuei overslept," Iroh said, smiling slightly at his nephew's discomfiture.

"Something's not right," Zuko said. Then he froze. It was just like his dream. Just like his dream. He looked at his uncle with wide, frightened eyes.

"What's the matter?" Iroh asked, setting his tea cup down.

"I think-" was all Zuko was able to get out before the door opened, and the next part of Zuko's dream came rushing back to him. Azula walked in, flanked by Dai Li agents, and smirking at Iroh and Zuko smuggly.

"It's tea time!" she said with a saccharine tone.

"No way!" Zuko gasped.

"Have you met the Dai Li?" Azula nodded to the men immediately at her sides. "They're earthbenders, but they have a killer instinct that's so firebender. I just love it." Zuko could only gape at his sister. He knew what she had been about to say. How could he know that? This moment felt less real than the dream had. Iroh stood up beside his nephew, and Zuko knew the words Iroh was about to say to his niece before they were ever spoken out loud.

"Did I ever tell you why they call me the Dragon of the West?"

Zuko was ready to grab Iroh's arm and run the minute Iroh created the hole in the wall. When Iroh used lightning to blast a hole in the second wall, Zuko froze again. Iroh jumped into the bushes below and turned back to his nephew.

"You'll be fine!" he assured Zuko. "Jump!" How could Zuko explain to his uncle why he couldn't? He hardly understood himself. He was just frozen into place. Moments later, Azula and the Dai Li caught up with him and Zuko turned to face his sister.

"You're so dramatic," she taunted him. "What? Are you going to challenge me to an Agni Kai?"

"You're not interested," Zuko murmured. Azula blinked in surprise, caught off guard for the barest moment. It wasn't enough, though, and her Dai Li guards sprang into action before Zuko could do much. He was quickly bound in stone cuffs, and throne into the catacombs beneath the city. And just like so many things that had happened that day, he was unsurprised to find himself trapped with the Avatar's waterbender (Katara. He'd known her name for some time, but Azula herself couldn't have tortured him into admitting it).

His mind was reeling as his memory of his dream and the reality of the situation crashed together, and he had the unpleasant sensation of remembering everything Katara had said before she'd spoken it. Particularly painful was Zuko anticipating her confession about how he was the face that for months she'd been picturing when she pictured the enemy. When she offered to heal his scar, Zuko was ready to break the walls down himself. Still, he submitted to her touch on his face. He wouldn't have been able to explain why for anything. Fortunately, he was spared thinking too hard about it when the Avatar arrived.

Azula caught up to them not long after. When Azula made her offer this time, Zuko froze, completely unable to thinks about anything beyond his own confusion. It was his dream. It was exactly his dream. Right down to the Avatar being struck down, and his uncle being taken prisoner so Katara could escape with the Avatar's....corpse? Zuko watched her go uncertainly. She met his confused gaze with a flinty one of her own. A shiver went down Zuko's spine.

Later that night, Azula congratulated Zuko on his choice. He barely registered any of it. Had he done all of this, he wondered. Had he literally dreamed his success into reality? He settled down into the bed of the room Azula had given him. Where King Kuei was, Zuko couldn't begin to hazard a guess, but for the time being, Azula had claimed his palace as her own, and given her brother the second best room available. Despite this, sleep came reluctantly for Zuko, but still, it came.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko sat up in bed, gasping. He looked around wildly. It took a few moments for his confusion to wane, but soon he was able to recognize the familiar trappings of his room. The one above the tea shop that his uncle was making famous with his delicate blends. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk he remembered falling asleep under in King Kuei's suites.

A few moments later, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities."

This time, all Zuko could do was stare. Iroh was as excited as ever as he admonished his nephew to get out of bed and get ready for work. Zuko was not at all surprised when Iroh announced that he had been invited to King Kuei's palace to serve tea.

"It's a trap," Zuko warned him. "We shouldn't go."

"Don't be silly, Nephew!" Iroh chortled. "Why would Kuei want to trap us?" Zuko wasn't sure how to handle that question without sounding insane. He went along with it. Perhaps he was still dreaming, Zuko reasoned. He had been asleep the entire time, and his brain wasn't allowing him to wake properly. He went through his day for the third time. He remembered most of the orders he'd taken the last couple of times, so he was able to devote most of his brain space to figuring out what was happening and how to stop it.

This time, he said little as he paced the floor in King Kue's palace, but he still hesitated just long enough that he was once again caught by Azula's Dai Li agents. And once more, he landed at Katara's feet. As before, he submitted to her tirade silently. This time, he was caught by the pain in he voice when she told him how his family had taken her mother from her. He wondered about her story. How long ago had it happened? How had it happened? How young had she been?

Katara wasn't much younger than he was, Zuko guessed. Maybe a year or two. He wasn't certain. She was still young enough to need her mother. It wasn't fair that she'd lost her mother so young. He said that, too, after commiserating with her over the loss of his mother. What would Ursa say? What would she think of her son sharing this with a Water Tribe girl?

When her hand came up to his face, Zuko had already accepted that she wouldn't have time to try her healing water on him. Sure enough, as her thumb grazed his lip, the wall on the far side of the cavern burst open, and the Avatar came in, followed closely by Iroh. Katara threw her arms around the younger boy, relieved to be rescued, and completely forgetting her offer to heal Zuko.

Zuko hesitated longer on his sister's offer. Little else changed, after all, how could he not help his sister? How could he not take his chance to go home? Still, Azula's suspicious gaze lingered on Zuko a bit longer afterwards. Zuko felt more eyes on him in general for the rest of the day. By the time he turned in that night, he was certain his sister had eyes on him even as he climbed into bed, sore, tired and confused.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko opened his eyes, somehow unsurprised to find himself in the familiar trappings of his room above the tea shop. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk he had fallen asleep under in King Kuei's suites.

A few moments later, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities." Zuko sat quietly as Iroh told him the good news. That they had been invited to serve tea to the King of Ba Sing Se. Iroh's smile dimmed a bit when he realized that Zuko wasn't reacting.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He sat down on the edge of Zuko's bed and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Are you sick?"

"...no," Zuko said after a moment. "I just...didn't sleep well." That may have been true. Zuko didn't remember falling asleep. Didn't remember dreaming. It seemed to him that he had just closed his eyes for a moment and then the world had reset itself. What was happening?

"Alright," Iroh said, unconvinced. "Breakfast is ready when you are." He got up and started to go. He paused at the door and stared at his nephew. "Or you can stay home, if you'd prefer." Zuko shook his head.

"I'm alright. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Zuko had heard all of his customers' orders so many times by this point, he didn't even need to pay attention to them. He did the cursory work, pretending to jot their tea preferences down on his note pad before he turned them into his uncle in the kitchen. Maybe that's why he was able to pay more attention. Maybe that's why he saw Katara this time. Their eyes met across the crowded tea room, Katara's eyes wide in horror. Zuko's eyes wide in shock. Had she always seen him that day? No wonder there was more anger than surprise when hours later, the Dai Li threw him into the catacombs before her. This time was no different.

She launched into her tirade, hurling her accusations, her pent up anger, her grief at him. This time, Zuko understood a bit better. She wasn't angry at him- or rather, she was, but it was a deeper wound she was purging. So when she spoke of her mother, Zuko said,

"That's something we have in common." And then... "What was her name?"

Katara was thrown completely for a loop, Zuko could see it in her eyes. She turned to him, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stared at him quietly for so long, Zuko didn't think she would answer him. But then...

"Kya," she whispered. "H-her name was Kya." Zuko shut his eyes and repeated the name to himself. Kya sounded like a poem. What kind of person was she? Was her daughter anything like her? Zuko thought she probably was, and if Katara was like her, then Kya must have been a very fierce...pain in the neck. The thought made him smile a bit.

"Are you laughing?" Katara demanded. Venomous rage bled back into her voice. Zuko met her gaze head on.

"No," he said. "I was just wondering if she was anything like you." That froze Katara once again, and this time Zuko did have to bite back a chuckle. There was a long, awkward pause. Then,

"My...my grandmother says I am," Katara said quietly. Zuko wasn't entirely sure she was speaking to him directly, or just didn't care if he heard her. "She says that I'm just like my mother when she was my age." She went silent again, casting furtive glances at Zuko. "What was your mother's name?"

"Ursa," Zuko sighed.

"Are you like her?" Katara asked. Zuko considered that for a moment. Then he shrugged.

"I hope I am," he said.

They didn't get around to Katara touching his face or her offer to heal his scar. They were still on opposite sides of the cave when Iroh and the Avatar burst in. This time, Zuko hesitated a beat too long, and he was crushed by a rock from one of the Dai Li agents.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko shot up in bed, choking down a strangled scream. He could still remember the agonizing pain radiating from his caved in chest, and the feeling of blood filling his lungs as he gurgled out his last breath. He ran his hands over himself looking for any marks, or bruises. Any evidence at all from what had happened....last night? Tonight? What was going on? A hiccupping sob escaped Zuko just as the door opened.

"Good morning, nephew!" Iroh said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities." Iroh froze abruptly when he saw the look on Zuko's face. "What's wrong?"

Zuko didn't say anything. He just leapt out of bed and threw himself on Iroh and wept like child in his uncle's arms. Iroh let him, alternating between comforting Zuko and trying to understand what had him in such a state. It took nearly ten minutes before Iroh managed to calm Zuko. Then he bundled Zuko up in his scratchy blanket and guided him to the little kitchen table, the one that wobbled and was hardly big enough for the both of them. Minutes later, he pressed a fresh cup of soothing tea into Zuko's hands and squeezed into the other side of the table.

"What happened?" he asked. Zuko choked down an errant sob and shrugged helplessly.

"You won't believe me," he muttered.

"Try me," Iroh implored. He reached out across the table and squeezed Zuko's free hand. "Please, Zuko. Did something happen last night? Did you get into some trouble? Did you break up with your lady friend?" At that Zuko laughed. If only if it were something that small.

"No," he said. "Jin and I haven't spoken in..." Zuko frowned. How long ago had it been? How many times had he relived this day? Did it count towards how long it'd been since he'd seen Jin?

"Then, what is it?" Iroh looked ready to cry himself. That startled Zuko. And it loosened his tongue. He told Iroh everything. How he'd live this day already, several times. How the invitation to King Kuei's palace was a trap. That Azula was not only in the city, but in the middle of a coup. He told Iroh about being trapped in the cavern with Katara (despite the situation, Iroh managed to look arch at Zuko using the waterbender's name). Zuko hid his shame, but he told Iroh how Azula won at the end of the day. Then he told Iroh how the last time, he'd died. Iroh was stricken at that. He scanned Zuko for injuries that they both knew weren't there.

"No wonder you were upset," Iroh said.

"You believe me?" Zuko stared at his uncle in shock.

"I have little reason to doubt," Iroh shrugged. "After all, I haven't mentioned tea at King Kuei's yet. I've seen far too much in my day to dismiss your claim out of hand."

"What do I do, Uncle?" Zuko pleaded. Iroh shook his head sadly.

"I don't know myself," he admitted. "This has the marks of some spirit's intervention."

"So, I just have to keep living today over and over until whatever spirit is doing this decides they're done?" Iroh pursed his lips and blew out a long slow breath.

"It's rare for any spirit powerful enough to do this to act arbitrarily," he said. "There must be something you need to do. Some lesson you need to learn. Have you done anything different?"

"Not really," Zuko said. The only major changes had been his conversation with Katara and his hesitation in that final battle.

"Maybe you should try."

So, Zuko did just that. Neither he nor Iroh ended up going to the palace, or to work that day. They stayed inside. Katara never saw Zuko at the tea house. Zuko never ended up in the cavern. Beyond that, Zuko didn't know what difference it had made. He didn't know that without Iroh there to distract his niece, Katara and Aang both died in the cavern. He didn't know that Sokka and Toph had just barely made it out of the city, or that Chief Hakoda driven more by grief than logic had ordered a failed attack on the city that ended with half the Southern Tribe warriors dead or captured. It wasn't until the Dai Li agents arrived at their apartment that Zuko realized that Azula knew where he and Iroh lived. There was no need for her to keep him around now. The Avatar was undeniably dead. The stone cuffs made it impossible for Zuko and Iroh to defend themselves, and in a rare act of mercy, Azula killed them quickly.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko woke up with the memory of lightning scorching his internal organs, and the echoes of Iroh's agonized screams in his ears. He flung his blanket off and threw the door open, startling Iroh, who was just coming in to wake him. This time Zuko didn't hesitate to tell Iroh everything. This time instead of waiting around the apartment all day, they stole out of the city. They were miles away when the city and the Avatar fell. They didn't stop until night fall, and they made an impromptu camp. They sat around the fire quietly, picking at their meals.

"Do you think this will end the loop?" Zuko asked his uncle. Iroh pursed his lips and blew out a long, slow breath.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I hope it does. But maybe I'm not who you're supposed to save."

"It must be," Zuko insisted. "Who else?" Iroh shrugged.

"Who can say with the spirits? It's rare for any spirit powerful enough to do this to act arbitrarily, though." Zuko didn't agree, but he said nothing. Finally, Iroh turned in for the night. Zuko offered to keep watch, determined to stay awake until the sun rose the next day. He drank a whole pot of the strong morning tea they'd packed. Despite their desperate flight out of Ba Sing Se, Zuko wasn't the least bit tired. He was certain he'd be able to stay up.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko opened his eyes and let out a long, loud string of expletives when he found himself in the familiar trappings of his room above the tea shop. Iroh poked his head in, frowning in concern.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"No!" Zuko shouted. "Nothing is alright! I hate the spirits!"

Zuko didn't want to explain anything to his uncle this time. He disappeared into the city, picking fights with anyone who crossed him. Eventually he was caught by the Dai Li and taken to the underground lake prison. His last memory was of a flashing green light and someone trying to hypnotize him. The next few times he woke up, he tried breaking into the palace and catching Azula unawares. He lost three times, died once, reached a stalemate four times, and killed his sister twice.

Most often, he ended up back in the cavern with Katara. Once, she managed to use her magic water on his scar. It worked, sort of. The scar faded until it was just a pinkish blemish over his eye, but then Azula hit the Avatar with lightning just before Zuko took her out. The Avatar died because Katara didn't have the water to heal him with. She was kind enough not to blame Zuko, but the sound of her sobs chased him into the new day. He never let her try that again. The next few times, he found Katara earlier in the day. He managed to get her to listen to him most of the time. She was, he found, more inclined to trust than he expected. These days still ended up with Ba Sing Se's fall, but Katara usually managed to escape with her friends, sometimes with Zuko's help, sometimes on her own, but Zuko never took her up on her offer to join them. Something inside him still balked at the idea of helping the Avatar, though he'd long since given up on returning to his father. Being murdered by his gleeful sister in increasingly creative ways had dashed any real hope he had that his father wanted him home. He learned a lot about Katara on those days, when he managed to get her to hear him out before attacking.

Today, he was exhausted. He went to work his shift at the tea house, because he didn't know what else to do. He was rude and snappish with the customers all morning, barely stopping to listen to their orders, and even though he didn't get a single order wrong, the owner of the shop sent him away early. That was fine. Zuko didn't stop to answer his uncle's calls as he stormed out into the street, running into a smaller person. He reached out instinctively to steady them, ready to berate whoever it was, but he froze. Katara was in his arms, staring up at him in horror.

Of course...

This had happened before, and the last time, both he and Katara had been taken by the Dai Li to that underground prison lake. Now, Zuko let go of her and turned to run in the opposite direction before she even had a chance to react. He expected to feel water snaking around his ankles, an icicle in his back, to hear her screaming for the Dai Li behind him.

None of that happened. Instead, he ran into two more girls. Girls in Kyoshi Warrior makeup. Girls who he'd recognize anywhere, no matter how much paint was on their faces.

"Oh no," he groaned.

"Is that anyway to greet old friends?" Mai asked mockingly.

Zuko ended up in the cavern with Katara. He wasn't sure how she'd gotten caught, but he was there first this time. Whatever tirade she had been preparing to launch into stopped abruptly when she saw him hitting his head against the rock wall with alarming force.

"What are you doing?" she gasped. Zuko was too dizzy to be surprised when she pulled him away from the wall. He could feel something trickle down his face, and whatever it was had Katara staring at him in open concern.

"Let go!" Zuko tried to shrug her off. "I have to get out of here!"

"Zuko!" Katara pulled him away from his wall, and he was too dazed to stop her. She pulled water from...somewhere, Zuko wasn't sure. Maybe the walls. The cave was damp enough. Her hand glowed a soft blue, and the pain in his forehead faded, to his disappointment.

"What did you go and do that for?" Zuko demanded, rubbing his hand over his unbruised forehead.

"Why were you hitting you head against the wall?" Katara countered sharply. She folded her arms and glowered at Zuko.

"I was trying to kill myself, if you must know," he sneered at her. For all the times they'd met and all he had learned about Katara, this was a new day. They were not friends.

"What?" Katara looked stricken, and Zuko felt bad, despite himself.

"Forget it," he said, turning away from her. "It doesn't matter."

"Zuko, what's going on?" Katara ran around him so she could see his face. "Tell me what's happening! Why are we here?"

"Trust me, you couldn't have picked a question I want answered more," he scoffed. "I don't know why I'm here. I've been here too many times to count at this point, and I don't know why! I've tried not coming here, but that doesn't work either."

"What are you talking about?" Katara asked, staring at him as if he'd grown another head. Zuko almost laughed. Maybe he had. It would make as much sense as anything else.

"I'm cursed, Katara," he said a bit hysterically. "I'm cursed. I've lived this day so many times... I...I don't know what to do. I'm losing my mind, and I'm scared." Zuko crumpled to the floor and sobbed into his palms.

Katara didn't know what to do. He could feel her hovering over him, uncertain of what, if anything, to do for him. Finally, she sat beside him, and hesitantly wrapped her arm around him from the side. All pride had utterly fled Zuko. He threw himself into her embrace and sobbed on her shoulder. Katara stiffened, and for a moment Zuko thought she would throw him off of her, but kindness, or compassion, or whatever drove her overrode her hatred for him, and she held him stiffly while he cried.

Zuko composed himself as fast as he could, and pulled away from Katara. He'd left a large wet mark of sweat and tears and snot on her dress, but she was a good sport about it.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" she asked.

"You won't believe me," Zuko said. The words brought back a memory of a similar conversation with his uncle.

"Try me," Katara said, with a wry smirk.

"I already told you," Zuko said. "I'm reliving today and I don't know how to get out of this loop."

"What?" Katara stared at him as if his second head had sprouted wings and started earthbending.

"I told you wouldn't believe me." This time Zuko did chuckle. "I've been here in this cavern with you, so many time's I've lost count. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"I-I," Katara stammered. "Zuko, this isn't..."

"I can prove it," Zuko told her. "We've spoken before. You've told me things. Personal things."

"Excuse me?" Katara stared at him, aghast.

"You have," Zuko insisted. "How else do I know that you have magic healing water from the Spirit Oasis?"

"Y-you were there," Katara said. "You could've been spying." Zuko shook his head.

"Nope," he said. "That's not it. I also know that you lost your mother. We've talked about her nearly every time we've met." Rage flashed across Katara's face at that.

"How dare you-?"

"I'm just saying what you told me," Zuko said. "You told me her name was Kya. And you told me how your grandmother said you're just like her when she was your age." Katara gaped at him in shock.

"How did you know-"

"You told me," Zuko sighed. "Just like you told me that your favorite color is seafoam green, and you miss the dancing lights in the sky back home, and your brother Sokka once got two hooks stuck in his thumb. One time, you ate papaya even though you hate it because a fortuneteller told you to. I have no other way to know any of that except from you. I'm not lying. I'm stuck in some sort of time loop. I don't know how to get unstuck."

"Oh-" Katara sat beside him quietly for a long time, processing the new information. "And I just..told you all of that? Why?"

"I don't know," Zuko shrugged helplessly. "I asked, and if you were in a good mood, you'd tell me. I don't always see you, and when I do we don't always talk." More silence, though, Zuko could almost hear her brain working double time to process all of this.

"Do you know how it started?' she asked after a long while.

"No," Zuko shook his head. He had tried to recall if he'd crossed any priests, or accidentally touched some relic, or walked under a ladder, but he couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary until he woke up and the day repeated. He told Katara as much.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I am, too," he shook his head. "I'm the only one who knows it, but you're all stuck in this loop with me, it seems. I really am sorry."

"That's got to be so lonely," Katara said. Zuko let out another shuddering sob. He hadn't let himself admit it yet, but she was right. It was incredibly lonely. No matter how many times they'd spoken, Iroh didn't remember why his nephew sometimes woke up screaming. Katara wouldn't remember this conversation, or that she and Zuko had made a connection and had more in common than she realized. In a few hours, Zuko would wake up and they would be enemies again. Katara pulled him into another embrace, and Zuko clung to her like a life line. He didn't cry on her anymore, though.

"I'm so scared," he whispered. "I can't even die." Katara stiffened in his hold, but instead of pushing him away, she held him tighter.

"There's got to be a way out," she said. "There has to be." Zuko didn't bother telling her that he'd tried everything he could think of. He pulled away slightly, not quite ready to let go of her yet, and rested his forehead against hers.

"Maybe I'm not dying the right way," he said.

"Why do you think you have to die at all?" Katara asked. Zuko snorted.

"Wouldn't it make your life easier if I were dead?" he asked. "If I die and end this loop, you wouldn't have to worry about me coming after you, or betraying your trust, or...or..." Zuko clenched his teeth tightly. Katara unwound an arm from his mid section and cupped his jaw.

"Where's that stubborn mule-ox who chased us around the world?" she demanded. "Where's that fighting spirit that led you to do stupid things, like challenge me while I was surrounded by my element?"

"I think that bit of me died around the fortieth time I woke up this morning," Zuko laughed mirthlessly. "Katara, I can't do this anymore. I have to figure out a way to end this. Even if it means I die. I can't go on like this!" His grip tightened around her waist, and he felt the tears coming again.

Then his world came to a screeching halt.

Katara's lips were pressed against his. Every thought in Zuko's head flickered out and all he could focus on was how soft Katara's lips were.

She pulled away with a jerk. Already she was babbling an apology, an explanation that she didn't know how else to distract him, other words that were lost on Zuko. Then she stopped talking when he leaned in to kiss her again. It was an urgent, awkward kiss between two inexperienced and desperate teens, with too much teeth and too many hands uncertain of where touch was okay. They kissed until they were breathless. They kissed until the wall imploded. And when Iroh and Aang burst in and the dust settled, they were still clinging to each other in a way that left little doubt of what they'd been doing.

They sprang apart, but instead of rushing over to Aang as she'd done so many times before, Katara stood awkwardly beside Zuko. A bright red blush covered her face and neck, and she looked a bit ashamed of herself as she avoided her friend's devastated face, but she didn't leave Zuko's side. Her knuckles bushed against his reassuringly, but neither of them made to entwine their hands.

There was no time to discuss any of what had happened. Azula and the Dai Li agents had heard the commotion as they always did, and soon they found themselves in the middle of a battle. Zuko had long since given up on joining his sister's side. And maybe the kiss had emboldened him, but this time, he joined the fight against his sister without hesitating. That enraged her, but between him, his uncle and Katara, she and the Dai Li were on their back foot. Zuko tried to keep his sister's focus on him. This time he would see Katara and his uncle escape safely with the Avatar. But something went wrong, and Aang was struck by Azula's lightning.

Katara in her rage was a sight to behold. She caught Aang as he fell, and almost simultaneously called up a wave with all the water in the cavern and froze Azula and her guards. That hadn't happened before. Neither had Zuko and Iroh ever managed to actually escape the cavern with Katara and Aang.

Later that night on Appa's saddle, Zuko watched in awe as the spirit water literally brought the Avatar back from the dead. He was glad that Katara hadn't wasted it on something as frivolous as his scar. Especially not when she looked at him, almost weeping with relief when her friend's chest began to fall and rise again.

In the chaos, Zuko and Iroh's presence had gone unremarked by Katara's other companions, but now that Ba Sing Se was miles behind them, and the Southern Tribe Warriors' camp lay before them, Sokka and Toph finally stopped to question their new companions. Katara told them in no uncertain terms that they owed Zuko and Iroh both hers and Aang's lives, and that they were fine to travel with them as long as they liked. Iroh offered his services as a firebending master for the Avatar once he woke. Zuko was quiet and stuck by either Iroh's or Katara's side- the latter was noted by Sokka with more than a hint of suspicion, but Zuko didn't care. It wouldn't matter in a few hours.

When they landed for an hour to plan their next move, Zuko told Katara as much when he managed to capture a few moments alone with her. She squeezed his hand.

"It'll be okay," she said. Zuko thought she was going to kiss him again, but Sokka appeared, inserting himself between them, with a suspicious glower levied at Zuko. Katara scoffed and went to go check on Aang.

They arrived at Chameleon Bay not long after that, and Zuko and Iroh were welcomed, albeit coldly by Katara's father and his troop. Zuko wasn't sure what Katara said, but he and Iroh were given a room on the Fire Nation ship Chief Hakoda and his men had managed to take possession of. Zuko couldn't sleep, though.

He ended up on the deck of the ship as the moon was nearing its zenith. It was close to the time that the day would reset for him. Zuko had timed it before. He figured he had about twenty minutes before he blacked out and woke in his room at the tea shop. He dreaded it, but he also felt a bit melancholy about it. No one would remember what happened today. His new allies, as fragile as the relationship was, would not know what happened tonight. His uncle, sleeping safely (as safely as was possible, at least) would soon burst into his room, excited about the trap that had been set for him at King Kuei's palace. Katara wouldn't remember comforting him in the caverns. She wouldn't remember kissing him, and when he saw her next, they would be enemies again. He didn't dare hope for a repeat of this particular version of the day, either.

Light footsteps came up behind him, but Zuko didn't so much as flinch. The worst that could happen would be someone slitting his throat. He wasn't overly worried about it, though, and he wasn't all that surprised when Katara sat down beside him, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the stern.

"It's late," she said.

"Yeah," Zuko agreed.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Aren't you?" Zuko scoffed. He glanced at Katara out of the corner of his eye. She was still covered in gore from where she'd caried Aang out of the cavern. Her hair was stiff with dried sweat, and there were smudges of mud and blood on her face and hands. She was gorgeous, Zuko realized with horrified clarity. He looked away from her and cleared his throat. He turned his gaze out on the the water of the bay. The moonlight scattered across the surface of the water, and danced across the waves.

"It's getting close to the time when my day starts again," he told Katara quietly. He sagged against the railing of the ship and rested his forehead against the cool metal. He was exhausted. He was always exhausted when he reached this part of the day.

"What if you stay up?" Katara suggested. Zuko shook his head with a sigh.

"I've tried," he told her. "If I don't fall asleep, or get knocked out or die, I just sort of black out. I can't fight it." Katara gasped, but didn't say anything. She slipped her hand inside of his and held it tightly. It was a nice sensation to end on, Zuko thought. He didn't fight it when sleep came to claim him.

Sunlight on his face woke him. Zuko looked around in confusion. He was not in his room above the tea shop. Above him, he saw the lightening dawn sky instead of the ceiling he'd been expecting. There was no scratchy stiff wool blanket over him. There was something soft and warm, and much heavier than a blanket on him though. He looked down and found Katara asleep on his chest, her arm draped across him protectively.

She must have heard the change in Zuko's heartbeat. Katara began to stir. She sat up and looked around blearily. She was not a morning person, Zuko thought giddily. When her eyes finally landed on him, several things crossed her face; surprise, fear, then dawning realization.

"Did you do it?" she asked. "Did you break the loop?" Zuko nodded, swallowing hard.

"It looks like it," he said. He looked around himself in awe. It was a new day.

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

Summary: Namor isn’t the only one who has been searching for his general. Thanks to you, Namora’s life was saved -- but when your connection to the two strangers brings you face to face with a hostile group of government agents, you find yourself in the crossfire of a much bigger conflict.

A/N: OMG first and foremost thank you for being here, thank your for coming back, and thank you for reading. This has taken me a bit longer to post because I’ve been pouring over it every day for a month, trying to get it just right. Comments, feedback and reblogs mean THE WORLD to me, so feel free to show some love and as always please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

There is a growing unrest inside you.

Days have passed since your encounter with Namor after saving the life of his general, Namora. Two mysterious strangers who have left your mind reeling with questions, unrelenting and unquenchable as a flame that dares to spread like wildfire, consuming your thoughts entirely.

You repeatedly play the memory over in your head with no rational way to explain what you witnessed; her blue skin, his superhuman strength; the curious metal that outfitted both of their armor; how they disappeared into the vast open ocean.

"Something on your mind?" A fruit vendor asks, snapping you back to reality. You stand in the middle of the bustling village marketplace, doing your best to orient yourself quickly.

“Your head is — how you say…? — in the clouds, yes?” The vendor asks in her best English, smiling politely at you as she stands next to her cart, eager for you to buy something.

"Is it that obvious?" You joke with a tired laugh. "Two, please."

You scoop up a pair of fresh mangos and hand the woman some change from your pocket. She kindly accepts it with a nod of appreciation. Carefully sliding the fruit into your bag, you return a nod of your own.

You continue to walk through the market, the damp air carrying an aroma of local cuisine and sweat fills your lungs. Weaving your way in and out of aisles created by vendor carts, you feel a sense of calm as you watch the locals interacting with one another. There's beauty to be found in their sense of community.

Typically, you would gather your needed food and supplies and then be on your way back home, but today as your mind wanders, so do your feet.

Meandering down another aisle, your thoughts drift back to Namor, specifically the morning you found him on your front porch. You can practically feel the warmth of that sunrise as you imagine its light illuminating his dark eyes. You picture the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth when you asked him if he would come back, a moment you hold onto tightly. The memory gives you optimism that you will see him again someday and hopefully have the opportunity to ask him more questions.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice a small crate sticking out a few inches further than other accompanying carts in the aisle. Tripping your foot as you walk by, it nearly tumbles you to the ground. You manage to catch your balance and your breath before face-planting into the dirt. Immediately turning to apologize, you find an elderly man seated behind the crate, his back leaning against the wagon behind him and his eyes shut.

The man is slender and his head bald, save for a few wisps of hair above his ears. Most of his body is covered by a knitted green poncho, well-worn and fraying along the hem. To both your relief and surprise, he seems completely undisturbed by your clumsy collision with his crate of goods. Unsure if he’s even awake, you reach down to help reset any items on the crate you may have displaced.

Your jaw drops slightly as you see the contents on display. Spread out on a velvet brown tablecloth sits a small assortment of beautiful books, scrolls, and other documents. Admiring them, you reach out and push back one of the scrolls, revealing a gorgeous hand-sketched portrait of the island.

“Did you draw this?” You ask, impressed by the skill of it.

“Mmm,” He hums, shaking his head, "But I made very good trade with the man who did.”

You find his answer odd, though slightly amusing, considering he never opened his eyes to see which piece you were referring to. As you browse the rest of the items, a particular book stands out to you. It’s different from the rest of the collection — small and bound in leather, although the leather itself is worn and brittle-looking. You pick it up and inspect it closer. The binding is loose, the pages aged and tattered.

“Careful with that one. Very old.” The elderly man says, his eyes remaining shut. “Nearly 400 years. Got it in a trade with a visiting merchant from our southeastern sister islands."

How does he even do that? You wonder as you start delicately flipping through the pages of the book. You make it about midway through when you open to a particular page that makes you freeze, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat. Your eyes widen as you bring the page closer to your face.

It’s a crude drawing — basic, two-dimensional, and very old like the man said, but the likeness is undeniable. Depicted is the figure of a man. He dawns a grand snake-like headpiece and is grasping a spear. His body is adorned with jade and other metals. Sharp ears. Winged ankles.

"Excuse me!” you ask the elderly man with an exasperated breath, practically jumping over the crate as you lean forward and shout, “These!" You flip the book around to show him the open page, pointing excessively at the picture and the glyphs below it. "What do these say?!"

Your voice is eager and desperate, emotions you hardly try to hide.

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

“Only few are still legible.” He says, shrugging.

“Okay, yes, but the ones you can read, what do they say?!” You plead.

He sighs, opening his other eye and leaning forward slightly to get a better look. After a moment, he leans back against the wagon and closes his eyes again.

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

You hang on to each word he tells you. Turning the book back around, you bring it back up to your face for another closer inspection.

"How much?" You ask, ready to make a deal.

The elderly man cracks one eye open to look at you for a moment as he considers his price, then wordlessly points to your arm with a feeble finger. You follow his gaze down to the small beaded bracelet around your wrist — the last reminder of your life before coming to the island. You hold your arm up to him, making sure you understand correctly. He nods politely, and without hesitation, you untie the bracelet and toss it to him.

"Nice doing business!" He says with a wide grin as he holds up the bracelet. You are already nose-deep in the book as you turn on your heels, quickening your pace as you head home where you can study more carefully.

Maneuvering your way out of the market to the outskirts of the village, you hardly need your eyes to guide your feet home. You take advantage of the remaining daylight to examine the pages as you walk, turning page after page and scanning for any information about Namor and his people. There’s little there, the book seeming to be a very old, mingled account of island history and lore. Seeing as you are not a historian and certainly not a linguist, it’s difficult to decipher. Still, you do your best to piece together what you can from the pictures.

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

The sky begins to dim. You can hear the faint roar of waves as you near the coastline. It’s too dark to see much detail on the pages now, so you carefully tuck the book into your bag as you step over the trunks of palm trees. The path beneath your feet gradually turns from brush to sand, and soon you find yourself walking along the familiar stretch of beach that leads you home. You stare out into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves and breathing in the salty evening air. The moon hovers above the water, burning brightly as countless stars paint the sky behind it.

You continue walking in the darkness, but there’s an uneasiness building in your gut the further you go. You should be nearing home by now, but no lanterns have come into view. You always light lanterns before heading into town. They burn for hours in your absence so, by the time you return, you have light to guide you. All you see now are shadows and silhouettes that dance against the tree line, and every sound and indiscernible movement has you on edge.

It’s not until you are nearly a stone's throw away that the bungalow materializes in the night. Your stomach twists as the wind blows by you, rustling your hair and causing the snuffed-out lanterns hanging from your porch to creak as they swing back and forth. You hear shuffling, and small beams of light sporadically shine through the cracks of lumber that make up the walls of your home.

There is someone inside.

An alarm goes off in your head, screaming at you to get out. As quietly as possible, you begin backing away. Eyes fixed on the bungalow, you take one step back. Then another. Then another. Then — thud.

Your stomach flips and your throat tightens. While you pray you’ve miscalculated and miraculously made it to the tree line in three short steps instead of thirty, you feel the unmistakable presence of a body directly behind you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice growls menacingly. It belongs to a man, his tone gruff, although you can’t quite make out his accent. You do, however, feel the blood drain from your face as you slowly turn your head, finding what is quite possibly the largest human being you have ever seen. Dressed in black military-grade tactical gear and armed with enough ammo and firepower to take on a small army, you know there is no fucking way you are getting away from this guy.

The man grabs your arm and forcefully drags you toward the bungalow. Once up the stairs, he pushes you inside and releases his grasp. You rub your arm and look up to find another man standing in your kitchen, his back turned away from you as he stands hunched over your table. He’s dressed in similar tactical gear and has a walkie-talkie hooked to his belt. A lantern burns next to him as he seems to be pouring over some sort of map.

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

The man at the table straightens his posture and turns around to face you both. His hair is buzzed and his face is stubbly, with a thick prominent mustache that stretches across his upper lip. He seems a bit older, and by the ‘sir’ formality, you are fairly confident he is in charge.

“Ah, we were wondering when you would be back.” He says in a sly tone, his accent American.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You respond in anger to the unwelcome visitor.

The man takes a sweeping look around the place, then his eyes come back to you.

“I think we can agree that “house” is a bit of a loose term.” He responds with sarcasm, a knowing look on his face. You continue to stare him down, unresponsive to his quip. The man loosens his shoulders and smiles at you. “Where are my manners? Agent Barrett.” He reaches his hand out, offering to shake yours.

You don’t move a muscle.

There is an awkward moment of silence, then Agent Barrett’s hand retreats. He turns, beginning to pace around your tiny kitchen. The room is in rougher shape than usual, clearly ransacked by whatever search was conducted before your arrival. The agent picks up a small roll of gauze from off the counter and holds it up.

“Tell me,” he says, inspecting the bandage material closely, “have you had any visitors recently?” His gaze quickly flicks over to you, an eyebrow raised.

Your pulse quickens as your blood turns to ice. Your mind immediately flashes to Namora floating wounded in the water; to Namor breaking down your door; to the two of them disappearing into the night. You put on your best poker face and shake your head.

“There’s no one around here for miles,” you explain, trying to be as convincing as possible. “You should try more inland towards the village. Most tourists, if any, stick closer to town or retreat to the far side of the island where—“

“Oh, she’s no tourist.” Agent Barrett chuckles, cutting you off. It feels insulting as if your suggestion were so preposterous it was borderline humorous.

She. He is looking for Namora.

Setting the gauze down next to the sink, Agent Barrett turns and walks over to you.

“You’re certain you haven’t seen anybody unusual around here in the past few days?”

He’s standing much closer now. Something about him makes your skin crawl. You eye the gun strapped to his hip and doubt it is for self-defense. Again, you shake your head.

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

“Okay.” He says softly while nodding his head. He backs away from you as the room lingers in silence. You allow yourself to take a breath, but the relief is short-lived. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

On Barrett’s cue, the large man behind you grabs your shoulder and kicks the back of your legs, dropping you hard to your knees. With his free hand, he yanks the bag off your other shoulder and tosses it to another man who emerges from the doorway to your bedroom. He catches the bag and immediately starts rummaging through it.

“Hey—HEY!” You shout, “What the hell are you—“

“A woman!” Barrett yells. “Pale blue skin. Very skilled swimmer. Four days ago, she single-handedly took down three UN-sanctioned vessels in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic! Three! Now where I’m from,” he crouches down to your level, aggressively getting in your face as he drops his voice lower, “that’s what we call an act of terrorism.”

Adrenaline overtakes your body as you feel your heart beat so intensely it threatens to break right out of your chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Barrett’s henchman searches your bag. He pulls out the mangos and tosses them on the floor. Then, he grabs the old leather-bound book. Turning it over in his hand, he looks at it for a moment and tucks it into his belt.

“She was wounded,” Barrett continues, calling your attention back to him, “and our intelligence indicates she washed up somewhere along this shoreline. That's where her trail goes cold. And as you said, there's no one around here for miles. No one, except you."

His implication is obvious.

“This woman, where is she?” He makes a last-ditch effort to convey a friendly tone, but you can hear his patience dwindling. "And please don't make me ask again."

You stare at him coldly, lips sealed together. You’re not telling this man a damn thing.

"Mmmm," is all he grunts, his eyes dropping to the ground. He heaves a heavy sigh as he pushes against his knees to stand up. Once on his feet, Agent Barrett stares at you for another moment before nodding his head to the agent behind you. The next thing you know, you are suddenly being pulled up by your hair, the man’s grip tight against the back of your neck as he turns and pushes you out the door.

Your hands clamor to his as you struggle against him to relieve the painful tension pulling on your scalp, attempting to release his grip on you. But the man is too strong and drags you down the stairs of your porch with ease. You make it a few meters down the shore when he shoves you down to your knees. Your legs make divots in the sand as your hands catch the rest of your body’s momentum. Hunched over, your knees and palms sting from the sand's friction.  

You immediately tense up as you feel a gun press against your head, the cool metal barrel hungry to fire. Hearing footsteps approaching behind, you quickly swallow your fear to maintain composure. Agent Barrett walks past, turning to position himself directly in front of you again — only this time, he doesn’t crouch down to your level.

“Look at me.” He demands as he towers over you. His body language makes it clear who is in control. In the only act of defiance you have left in your arsenal, you keep your gaze laser-focused on the water straight ahead of you, refusing to give in to his instruction. Growing impatient, Barrett roughly grabs your chin. He clasps it tightly as he yanks your jaw upward, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“You’re going to tell me about your friend, and you’re going to tell me where she is, right now," he growls.

You stare at him, disdain in your eyes. You momentarily scan your surroundings and count nearly twenty other men on the beach now. It’s enough to make your gaze and your heart sink straight to the ground.

Even if you wanted to tell him, you don't have the answers Barrett is looking for. His face hardens as your lack of cooperation and unwillingness to talk becomes clearer and clearer. Loosening his grip and dropping your chin, Agent Barrett looks at the agent next to you.

“Do it,” he orders, leaving you without another word as he walks back up the beach toward the bungalow.

The gun presses even harder against your temple and you hear the irrefutable sound of it being cocked as a bullet rolls into the chamber. Your heart is heavy as your eyes begin to well with tears. You stare out at the ocean, the night swallowing the horizon save it for the piercing glow of the moon that cuts its way through the sky down to Earth. It’s a better view than most get in their final moments, you suppose. For that, you consider yourself lucky.

Time seems suspended as you feel the ocean breeze blow past you, pouring over your skin and filling your lungs as you deeply inhale these final moments. You savor the way the salty air envelops you like the comforting embrace of an old friend. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try fighting back the tears. Despite your best efforts, one single drop escapes, racing down your cheek as you accept your fate.

Zzzzziiinnng!

Where you expect to hear the split-second ring of a gun firing before getting your brain blasted out the side of your skull, you instead hear a high-pitched whistling through the air and the unmistakable slice of a blade penetrating flesh. The weight of the gun barrel against your head slides limply away, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground next to you.

Your eyes shoot open. You turn to see your executioner now lying dead on his back with a spear pelted through his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, then settle on the spear itself. A spear you recognize — because it’s the same one that was held to your throat only a few days earlier.

Namor.

He's here. Desperately your eyes search the ocean line, scouring the darkness for him.

"We're under attack!" Someone yells frantically from behind you. It is one of Barrett’s men.

"Open Fire! Open fire!" Another one shouts.

You immediately abandon your search for Namor, hitting the deck and covering your head as dueling bullets and spears fly over you. Hearing anguished cries from both sides, you peek out from over your arm and watch in horror as an agent a few meters away looks down at their dart-ridden chest. They drop to their knees, then fall forward onto their face.

Your head whirls around at the sound of another spear making contact with a body and dropping it to the ground. This agent is about ten meters away from you, and while your first instinct is to get the hell out of there — run as far as you can as fast as you can — you notice your little leather-bound book tucked into the belt of the lifeless body.

You tell yourself to leave it. You plead with yourself to leave it.

“Damn it,” you mutter in frustration to yourself. You are getting that book.

Before you can give it another thought, you are already army-crawling through the sand. The sound of gunfire rings in your ears as more weapons return their fire. You scramble to the body, staying low to the ground on your chest and abdomen. Once there, you reach out and grab the book, wrangling it free from the deceased man's belt. You shove it into your waistband when something behind you explodes, causing you to duck your head and shield yourself with your arms.

The battle is deafening and disorienting. The mix of adrenaline and shock threatens to override your entire system as you try to maintain your focus.

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

You lift your head, ready to run, but your breath catches and you freeze. Mere inches from your face, you find yourself staring at someone’s feet and feel the presence of their body hovering over you. You brush the stinging sand out of your eyes, pleading in your mind that this is not the end. Not now. As your vision sharpens, you feel a surge of hope. There in front of you are two winged ankles.

Your eyes shoot up. Standing above you, illuminated by the light of the moon and the rapid sparks of machine guns firing, is Namor.

He looks down at you, his stare intense as his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with each breath. Gripping the hilt of the spear, he effortlessly removes it from the body next to you with one pull, his eyes never leaving yours. The ongoing battle on the beach doesn’t deter his attention from you in the slightest. From behind him, a handful of armed warriors with pale blue skin come storming out of the ocean.

“Namora!” He calls, and one warrior immediately splits off from the group. While the others continue to push the team of agents to the far side of the beach, the general comes to Namor’s side and your eyes widen as you take her in. Almost unrecognizable from when you first met her, Namora is a sight to behold. Instead of weak and wounded, she now stands strong and commanding, fully outfitted in her armor of woven jade and metal. Dazzling lionfish spines adorn her head and neck, and she wears the same mesh apparatus over her nose and mouth as before. You are astounded when you squint and barely see a seam remaining where you had stitched her up.

“K'uk'ulkan.” She answers, standing at attention.

Namor’s eyes are still fixed on you. He hands the retrieved spear to Namora and then nods in your direction.

You become nervous, suddenly uncertain if the pair of them have come to you as friend or foe, watching as Namora tightens her grip around the weapon.

“Go.” Namor urges, and a wave of relief washes over you. Friend.

“Where are my goddamn reinforcements?!!” You hear someone shout into a walkie-talkie. You recognize the voice as Agent Barrett's.

“Go NOW,” Namor commands, his eyes flicking up in Barrett’s direction. The expression on his face becomes menacing as he strides past you, his muscles rigid and his pace purposeful. He pulls his own spear out of the larger agent who nearly executed you as he walks past the body, arming himself.

Without hesitation, Namora strides forward and links her arm under your shoulder, pulling you up to your feet and yanking you quickly toward the trees. Before you can reach them, however, more men dressed in black combat gear come pouring out of the thick foliage, ready to attack.

Three surround you as the others rush to provide relief further down the beach. Instead of guns, these agents come armed with batons and other blunt weapons. Namora whips you back behind her, placing herself between you and the approaching enemy. She walks toward the agents, rotating her spear in her hand. You’re surprised by how relaxed her posture is as she waits for the men, each one at least twice her size, to make the first move.

The agent to her right makes the first advance, lunging forward at Namora. She meets him with speed and ferocity, quickly sidestepping him only to grab hold of his shoulders. She uses them as an anchor to whirl herself around him, gracefully landing and her feet and then lodging her spear into his back. The man cries out in pain, but Namora quickly delivers the final blow as she twists the spear in deeper and shoves it upward toward his lungs.

No sooner does his body hit the ground when the two other men charge at her. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, Namora drops to her knees, sliding across the sand between them to duck under their attacks. As she does so, she nimbly summersaults back onto her feet and turns one hundred and eighty degrees. Back on the attack, she runs hard at them. You watch as Namora delivers a combination of charged punches to one agent, then springs back to avoid the swing of the baton from the other. To counter the move, she kicks the man above the kneecap with so much power it sends his whole leg backward and brings him to his knees. She grabs the sides of his head with both of her hands, thrusting it down hard against her knee. You feel the grisly sound of blunt broken bone deep in your core as his skull makes contact.

As the man’s head reels backward, blood pouring from his face, Namora seamlessly transitions between her two opponents, avoiding another attack from the third agent she had previously deflected with punches. Her attention back on him, she trades blows as they fight in more hand-to-hand combat. Between kicks, punches, and counter-punches, Namora strategically inches herself backward until she’s practically standing on top of the first body she dropped. Baiting her current opponent forward, she taunts him with the tilt of her head, exaggerated by her headpiece. It works like a charm. He charges at her, and swooping under him, she wraps around his chest and pulls him over the top of her, flipping him onto his back. In one calculated motion, she pulls her spear from the body of the first agent which is now easily within reaching distance, and drives it into the second.

It all plays out in front of you so quickly when the third agent with the broken nose — well, broken face, really — groans as he gets himself up, ready to have another go at Namora. She engages, but as she moves towards him you see a fourth man emerge from the trees, raising a gun to shoot.

“LOOK OUT!” You yell to warn her, but pure instinct has your feet sprinting forward to stop him.

You don’t process any thought or consider any tactic, you just hurl yourself at him. The two of you collide, crashing to the ground with all the power and momentum you can muster. You scramble for his gun and manage to knock it away, but he barrels you over him and slams your back against the ground. The impact forces the air out of your lungs, temporarily paralyzing you as you struggle for breath. The agent straddles your body, putting more pressure on your chest as he pulls a knife from his hip. With all your strength, you fight to hold his arm back. He breaks through your grasp and takes a swipe at you, but reflexively you deflect it away with your hand. The knife slices open your palm and you cry out as you try to continue pushing his arms back.

When he raises his blade again, a blur of orange lionfish spines come streaking across as Namora flies over the back of the agent and yanks him off of you. They tumble across the sand, but she quickly gains the upper hand by entangling him in a headlock. Clutching your injured hand and still struggling for oxygen, you look on as she tightens her grip around the man’s neck and then abruptly cracks it to the side.  

The sound makes you sick to your stomach, but you also feel a sense of relief. And gratitude. Your chest heaves as you finally start to catch your breath, your entire body buzzing. You turn to see the dead agents Namora has so quickly disposed of, their bodies dispersed across the sand. She unwraps herself from her most recent kill and makes her way to you with haste.

As she reaches you, you hear the chaos and fighting continue further down the beach. Then, the faint sound of a helicopter approaching. Barrett’s reinforcements.

“There are too many of them,” you say in distress as you witness more agents pour out onto the sand to fight Namor’s warriors. Even if each one had Namora’s four-to-one kill ratio, they are still outnumbered. As the chopper blades get louder, Namora looks at you intensely, reaching out her hand.

“Come,” she insists.

She’s gotten you this far. You grasp her hand without hesitation and she pulls you to your feet. You edge closer to the tree line where you hope safety and concealment await you, but as you reach the lush landscape something pricks your ears. It’s not gunfire. It’s not the chopper.

Namora tugs your arm as she tries to usher you into the trees, but your focus is elsewhere. A faint, melodic breeze moves past you like a ghost, causing your mind to become hazy. As the sound grows louder, an indescribable melody rings in your ears that is both euphoric and dreadful. You don’t even notice the tension of Namora’s grip on your hand increase as your feet redirect you toward the water, compelled by its call.

“No!” Namora yells at you as she yanks your arm. The force of it snaps your attention back for a moment, and you watch as the agents who line the beach suddenly cease fighting and instead walk undeterred paths straight into the water. Terror fills you as they wade further and further out, the water coming up to their knees, then their hips, then their chests, until they are completely submerged underneath.

You shoot a glance to Namora, petrified and confused. Whatever is happening, she seems unaffected. Your thoughts and vision begin to cloud again, and you feel like someone else is controlling your body as the ocean summons you along with the others. Every part of you feels entranced by the chorus of voices in the air as their notes overwhelm your senses and leave you disoriented. Namora grabs you, practically throwing you over her shoulder as she runs into the trees. You become hard to carry, so she pulls you both into the cove of a sheltered root system at the edge of the foliage. Huddling next to you, Namora tightly wraps her arms around your head to cover your ears with her hands.

Pupils dilated, you desperately try to hold onto any shred of active consciousness before giving in entirely to the song. Your mind becomes infiltrated by it and begins to process what you see in pieces; men in the water, drowning themselves; gunfire raining down from the night sky; Namor, spear in hand, leaping into the air, taking impossible strides toward a chopper; the chopper spinning out of control.

You feel the heat against your face as the chopper crashes to the ground, exploding on impact. The last thing you remember seeing is Namor in the distance, standing on the sand. Illuminated by the raging inferno that burns behind him from the destroyed chopper, he is fierce, incredible, and terrifying.

A god. A monster.

The haunting chorus melody continues to consume your mind. Even with Namora’s help, you feel your body shift as it involuntarily attempts to get up. Namora squeezes her palms over your ears with even more strength and restrains your movements.

"No." She whispers fiercely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your hands over Namora's as tightly as possible. Blood pours from your hand down hers, trickling onto your shoulder. The noise is too much, and as you feel yourself begin to scream, everything goes black.

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

That’s the first thing you see when you finally become conscious again. Your head hangs low in front of you, pounding as it bobs up and down. It’s still dark out, but you find your home lit up by more lanterns as you approach the pathway to your porch.

You glance to your right and left,  discovering you are being assisted by two people on either side of you — Namora on your right and a much taller blue-skinned man on your left. His shoulders are wide and his head is outfitted with an armored hammerhead skull. Arms slung around both of their necks, your body is in a state of pure exhaustion as they get you up the stairs to the door.

As you start to step with your own feet, they are alerted by your recovered consciousness. Quickly, the man unhooks your arm from around him, steadying you against Namora. He retreats as you find yourself gaining feeling back in your body. Namora patiently waits for you to get your bearings, and when you do she opens the front door for you, ushering you to go inside. You follow her instruction, and there waiting for you in the bungalow is Namor.

Namor stands against your kitchen counter, the same place you stood when he first came crashing into your home. His arms are folded across his broad chest. Although his head is down, his eyes are flicked upward toward you, watching your every move. The flame of a lantern on the table glints off his irises, illuminating the dark stare that hovers just below his furrowed brow.

“Please, sit.” He says with a stern voice, his open palm gesturing toward a chair at the table.

As you sit down, you hear the front door close behind you.

Silence.

"Those men," he finally says, pushing himself away from the counter as he stands up straighter, “they were seeking information?"

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

“It’s safe to speak here. I’ve made sure of it.” He promises, sensing your reluctance to engage in conversation.

“They wanted to know about Namora." You answer cautiously.

Namor's expression grows even more serious. He subtly shifts his weight from side to side before settling back into the center of his powerful stance.

"And even with your life on the line, you said nothing."

You are unsure if he is making a statement or a question.

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

"Why?" You repeat back to him, caught off guard by the question. "Does it matter why?"

"Yes,” Namor says directly, raising his eyebrows. “Because I need to know if I put my spear through the right person.”

The seriousness of his statement hits you like a brick. Your mind flashes back to the beach, you on your knees with a gun to your head as Namor’s spear plows its way through the man next to you. How easily, you wonder, could he have changed his aim by just a few degrees if you had decided to open your mouth and spill what little information you did know to those men?

As you think about it, you also begin to ask yourself why. Why did you keep your mouth shut? Why did you help Namor and his people?

You take a deep breath as you consider your reasons, then lift your gaze to him.

“You barged into my home, broke down my door, and threatened my life. But even then, the motives behind your actions were clear — the love and concern for your people. These men,” your eyes trail away as you feel a wave of anger build up inside, "these men were driven by self-interest and self-preservation. It wasn’t hard to choose a side.”

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

“Plus,” you add, “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. Twice.”

Namor looks at you the same way he did the night you met him. The look that tells you he is debating whether or not you are telling the truth. You are a witness testifying on the stand, and Namor is your judge and jury.

“Well, that is twice now you have saved my people. Again you have my gratitude." He says with a sigh, his expression softening.

You give a small smile, but it disappears when an unrelenting ache pounds inside your head, pulling you out of the moment. You reach up to rub your temple and suddenly feel a surge of pain coming from your hand, instantly reminding you of the injury you sustained from your face off against one of the agents on the beach.

“Shit,” You exclaim, pulling your cut, bloodied palm away from your face and looking at it.

"Here," Namor says, grabbing the roll of gauze off your kitchen counter as he moves in your direction. Pulling up a chair, he sits down directly in front of you so your knees are practically touching. He gestures for your hand. “May I?"

You consider his offer as you stare at the thick veins protruding from his forearm, binding themselves to his defined muscles like vines around a tree. Eyes darting back up to his, you cautiously nod your head to accept his help while simultaneously extending your arm to him.

Namor takes your injured hand gently in his own, cradling it as if it could shatter into a million pieces. Amazed by how his hand dwarfs yours, you feel a surge of energy in your chest when his thumb begins to rub along your wrist. He takes the roll of gauze and begins carefully wrapping it around your palm.

Calmly maneuvering each layer of the bandage, Namor's brow furrows ever so slightly as he slips deeper into a state of concentration. His grasp is firm but gentle, rotating your hand in tandem with the bandage and you take comfort in his touch.

Studying his face, you admire each feature and detail closely. You see the traces of salt against the rich tones of his skin, and soon your willpower gives way to a desire slowly being coaxed inside you as you allow your eyes to trail from his face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular biceps, and finally to his strong hands as they work to take care of you.

Namor begins humming softly as he continues wrapping your hand. There's a warm timbre in his voice that resonates in your ears, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

"That song..." your voice trails off as you grow more entranced by it, unable to find the words to describe its intoxicating melody. But a surge of fear runs through you as you recall another tune, the one from the beach, its haunting cadence prickling the back of your mind.

"My people have many songs," Namor says in a tone equally rich to his humming, calming you instantly. "Each one with a meaning and purpose."

"What is the purpose of that one?" You ask quietly.

Namor’s hands stop as his eyes wander up to yours.

"It's a lullaby, meant to bring the soul peace." His eyes flutter back down as he resumes wrapping the bandage around your hand. "My mother would sing it to me when I was a child."

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

A smile spreads across Namor's face, but there's a hint of sadness in it. He leans down to your hand and you can feel your heart beat faster as his mouth hovers mere inches above your skin. The warmth of his breath rushes against your wrist, sending shivers through you. With great care, he tears the gauze with his teeth before tucking the loose end into a fold of the bandage.

"It is," he agrees, staring down at your hand which he now holds carefully between his own. "Especially in a world where peace is scarcely found."

His voice is gentle, but there is a bitterness brewing beneath the statement.

"I have spent my life ensuring peace for my people. Protecting it. Preserving it."

Namor looks back up at you, letting go of your hand as he sits up straighter in his chair. The room is quiet as his words sink in and you drop your gaze to think. As you do so, your good free hand migrates to the leather book still tucked in your waistband, your fingers fiddling with the binding.

“What is it?” Namor asks, snapping your eyes back up to his. You swallow nervously, unsure if you should share what is on your mind. Then again, you may not get another opportunity.

Slowly, you pull the book out from against your side, opening it to its marked page before pushing it across the table to him.

“You say you’ve spent your entire life protecting your people.” You preface, hesitating a moment before asking your question. “Is that... you?"

Namor stares at the book in front of him, tracing the outline of his likeness delicately on the open page with his fingertips.

"A version of me." He answers.

"How...." you rub your temple as you do the unnecessary math in your head, already knowing the hundreds of years difference between the book and the man in front of you doesn't add up. "How is that even possible? That book is centuries old, I mean," you are at a loss trying to wrap your head around it all, coming up short with any logical explanation, “who are you?"

Namor looks up at you, then his gaze descends back onto the open book. He gives a sad smirk.

“You are one of very few to ever ask who I am instead of what I am." He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "The answer to neither of which will be found in your book." He says, shutting it and sliding it back toward you. You reach for it, only he doesn’t take his hand off the leather cover right away.

"You must always be weary of your authors.” He warns. “The preservation of one's opinion over time does not make it fact, no matter how long ago it was written."

He relinquishes his hold, you finish sliding the book back to your side of the table. Namor searches your face as his eyebrows pull closer together, a rare look of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I wear the mantle of king and am the protector of my people.” He begins. “They are my responsibility by birthright, a charge I’ve dedicated my entire life to upholding.”

Namor proceeds to tell you the story of his people — how they were driven from their home by Spanish conquistadors, and how their gods provided a remedy for a foreign disease that led them to seek sanctuary in the ocean itself. He explains that his mother was among them, pregnant with Namor at the time, and how the remedy herb altered his very being in the womb. Mutant is the word he uses, the reason for his strength and abilities, as well as his slow aging. He then describes the horrors he had seen upon returning his mother’s body to the surface world after her death, and the vow he took to keep outsiders away from his people and his beloved city he calls Talokan.

"So you see," he says leaning forward as he places his forearms on his knees, his face even closer to yours now, "I am no god. Nor am I a man. What I am is a leader who loves his people. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I will see the world burn before I subject my people to its sins and savagery.”

It’s a lot to take in. You study Namor’s expression as his stare now lingers away from you, his mind somewhere in the past. You can’t even begin to comprehend all that he has seen or experienced, but you do feel a clearer understanding of why he is the way he is. Filled with compassion for him, you cautiously reach up and cradle his face with your non-bandaged hand.

"You're not a monster." You reassure him gently.

This brings Namor’s attention back to you immediately, his dark eyes searching your face earnestly as he takes a deep breath through his nose. The bristles of his scruff are rough against your palm, creating a warm friction when he leans into your touch. Namor closes his eyes and lets out a sigh so deep it's as if he's releasing a weight from his shoulders, one that he has been carrying for far too long. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it deeper against his cheek.

“K’uk’ulkan,” a voice calls from behind you. You drop your hand back down to your lap as Namor glances over your shoulder. The man with the metal hammerhead skull stands at attention in the front doorway, his body so large it consumes the space entirely. Namor nods at him, then looks back at you.

"It's time," he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “More men will be coming. Namora is outside — collect what you need quickly, she will take you to a safe place.”

The realization sets in, and your heart sinks. Your home is no longer safe and you can’t stay here.

Namor offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair and onto your feet. In doing so, he pulls you into him and tucks his hand delicately under your chin. He’s impossibly close as he tilts your face upward toward his own.

"I am sorry." He whispers, a soft and apologetic tone in his voice. He gives you a remorseful look, but all you can think about is how little space currently exists between his lips and yours. Namor’s gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth, but the moment is fleeting as he drops his hand from your chin and takes a step back.

“Go.” He says, encouraging you to get your things. It’s his last word before walking past you and exiting out the front door.

Left alone in the empty bungalow, you make your way over to your bag still on the floor from earlier that evening. You take it and march into your room, grabbing some clothes, your toothbrush, and other small essentials. You don't have much in terms of possessions in the first place, so it doesn’t take long for you to collect what you need.

As you exit your bedroom, you get ready to leave when you look over at the small book on your table. Namor insisted it held no answers for you, but you go to retrieve it anyway, stuffing it in your bag along with the rest of your belongings.

You take one last look around your home, once an unfamiliar broken place that over time became your haven and sanctuary. It breaks your heart to leave, but you know you must.

“Thank you,” you quietly whisper to the room, hoping in some way its energy or spirit or anything can hear you. You make your final exit, walking out to the front porch just as the dawn is starting to break over the horizon. Warm hues cast shadows of orange and red across the island, and you breathe in the early morning air. As you look out across the beach, you are surprised by what little evidence remains of the night’s events. No bodies. No fires. Just large divots in the sand and some smoke along the tree line from a few singed palms.

Namora is standing at the edge of the pathway leading to your porch, waiting for you. Descending the stairs, nerves prompt you to tighten your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag as you brace yourself for the unknown.

“I’m ready,” you say when you reach her.

Namora looks at you seriously, then nods her head. Reaching up to her face, she carefully removes the apparatus from over her nose and mouth. It is the first time you have seen her whole face, unobstructed by the peculiar covering. She’s just as striking without it, and you notice a beautiful jade ring pierced through her septum, echoing Namor’s. She turns the mask in her hand and guides it onto your face, sealing it against your skin.

“Come,” she tells you, turning toward the ocean.

You take one last look back at your home, then fall into stride behind Namora as the two of you walk into the water.

-- -- -- 

Tag List (I think this is how you do it? Sorry if not, still figuring this whole Tumblr-thing out): @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Two: Fucked - David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@hatersaremymotivators@bennykk@kelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

You and David have plans for the summer. You think about them as you recline naked on a chaise lounge in Simone’s art studio, one arm above your head, your face tilted towards the painters.

You’ve been accepted into San Franisco Art Institute’s Accelerator Program over the summer, which means you’ll be spending eight weeks on campus learning from the best the country has to offer. At the end of the course there’s an event where the artists enrolled get to showcase their work to industry professionals. It’s a way of being discovered, of taking your art to the next level.

David’s going to drive you up there next month. The two of you are going to spend a couple of days sightseeing before the program starts. He’s booked off a few weekends throughout the duration, made reservations at a hotel so you can spend a little time together in the city before you come home.

San Franisco is a dream that you never envisioned for yourself. When your professor had given you the application you didn’t think she was serious. It was a competitive program, it was unlikely you’d get a place even if you did apply so what was the point? It was David that changed your mind.

“You’re so talented.” He had murmured, his lips ghosting across the line of your jaw as you straddled his lap, his fingers untying the knot on your silk robe. “I have every faith in you.”

You’ve never had a man say those words before, they’d been more of an aphrodisiac than you cared to admit.

When the letter had arrived announcing your placement, he had brought home a bottle of champagne and spent the entire night licking the bubbles from your body. You try to distract yourself from that thought because the last thing you want is to get wet in the middle of a session.

When you tune back into your surroundings you find yourself meeting the eyes of the woman across from you. She’s new to the class and the way she looks at you, it’s predatory.

It’s after session that she approaches you. You’re standing in your cotton kimono, sipping from a teacup while she leans against the counter alongside of you. You freeze when she reaches out, her fingertips tucking a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You are very fuckable aren’t you?”

“Sorry honey, you aren’t my type.” You tell her as you pull away, she dogs your steps until you disappear behind the mango wood room divider so that you can dress.

“I know.” She says from the opposite side as you step into your panties and draw them up your thighs. “You have a thing for cop uniforms and leather kuttes.”

You pause for a second before pulling on your sports bra.

“Special Agent Stahl.” You presume.

“Ah David told you about me.” She says, sounding pleased as you tug your jeans up to your hips.

“Only that you like to be called Mommy when you’re sucking dick.” You respond and there’s silence for a moment before she pops her head around the screen.

“You know he was fucking me an hour ago.” She tells you, watching with appreciation as you raise your arms to pull on your shirt. “I’ve still got his come dripping out of me.”

You give her a bored look because you know there isn’t a chance in hell that David stuck his cock back in that beartrap.

“Careful.” You say as you lace up your ankle boots. “Your desperation is showing.”

“I get why he likes you, you know?” She says, leaning back against the desk Simone uses for her admin. “I bet you’re just a firecracker in the bedroom.”

“Is there a reason you’re here or are you just trying to figure out ways to piss off David?” You ask her as you sling your slouch bag over your shoulder.

She shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s an added bonus.” She tells you before crossing her arms over her chest. “I want to talk about someone else we have in common. Jax Teller.”

“Old news.” You say as you search through the contents of your bag for your phone. “If you’re looking information you’re in the wrong place. We fucked for a month almost a year ago.”

“Do you know if he was carrying  a gun during that time?” She asks you, picking up a fidget spinner Simone leaves on her desk for Juice to play with.

You see the path that this is taking. Jax is on parole for a weapons charge. If Stahl finds a witness that says he has a gun, they can get a warrant to search the clubhouse. Jax goes back to prison, the Sons do an investigation of their own. You’ll be the first place they look and what comes after that…

You don’t want David caught up in that crossfire.

“No.” You tell her and she sighs, setting the fidget spinner back in its rightful place before meeting your gaze.

“Fine.” She says reaching into her purse and removing a set of handcuffs. “I’m arresting you on conspiracy to commit vandalism.”

You couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d drew back her fist and punched you in the face. She snaps the bracelet on your wrist before turning you around to face the wall.

“A year ago you spraypainted a five foot dick on Jax Teller’s house, causing a crime spree that went on for weeks and cost the town thousands in property damage, anything over $400 dollars makes it federal. The charge comes with up to a year in jail, fines and restitution.” She tells you as she cinches the cuffs so tightly that they bite into your skin, already your fingertips are starting to tingle. “If that doesn’t stick I’m going to call your art school and that shitty little summer program in San Franisco and tell them your affiliated with a known, violent gang so that future you’ve been looking forward to you can kiss that goodbye.”

In that moment your entire world collapses. Everything you’ve worked so hard for, it’s gone in an instant.

“Tell me is Jax Teller really worth all this?” She asks you, her breath ghosting in your ear. There’s a purr in her voice as she presses up against you, she gets off on having all the power, you remember David telling you that when he described how fucked up their whole thing was.

For you this isn’t about Jax, it’s about him. It’s about what happens when the Sons come for you because David, he will fight to his last breath to protect you and you can’t stand the thought of that.

“Fuck you.” You snap and you can practically feel Stahl’s smile against your skin.

“I think you’re the one that’s about to get fucked.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Namjoon

A list of incredible fics I've read and re-blogged on my (almost) 2 years on here. These stories all celebrate our fave big, brainy, clumsy, sometimes annoying, always sexy Joon, check them out and give these authors some love!

The Body Through Time by @yeoldontknow. KNJ x f! reader, sexy academia AU. Angsty fic with Namjoon as a smouldering brainiac.

Goodnight Nabi by @sahmfanficbts. Get used to seeing Sam's handle in my lists because she's one of my fave writers and a lovely person to boot. KNJ x f! reader, sexy DILF mechanic Namjoon. A sexy, beautiful fic with Sam's signature hope and heart.

Pronoia by @junghelioseok. KNJ x reader, college + zombie apocalypse AU. A cracky, funny, zingy story with guest appearances from other members - including JK and Yoongi.

Booty Jorts by @miscelunaaa, who also has a good showing in my fic recs for her top notch writing and just being a great human. KNJ x f! reader - this is a smuttily delicious gem.

Shell-ter by @miscelunaaa. Hermit crab! Namjoon x marine biologist reader. I genuinely think about this grumpy (crabby?!) Namjoon all the time.

Scent of a woman by @sahmfanficbts. Leopard hybrid parfumerie boss! Namjoon x employee f! reader. There's always so much humanity in Sam's stories, and this does not disappoint.

How I love you by @ahundredtimesover. KNJ x f! reader. A 28k beautiful musing on love and marriage that's thought-provoking and sensitively written.

Seoul Redemption by @sahmfanficbts. Forger! KNJ x single mom! reader. A gorgeously realised imagining with a noir vibe and very human characters.

Park and Ride (Explicit) by @here2bbtstrash. KNJ x reader, idolverse. The first story I read by M, and it made me want to read so much more of her work. Sexy, fast-paced, and this Namjoon is swoonworthy.

Holding on letting go by @augustbutwinter. KNJ x gn! reader. August is queen of the short impactful drabble but her longer pieces are just as incredible. A sad, angsty, truthful, beautifully realised gem.

Cuffing Szn by @miscelunaaa. FBI agent KNJ x soft-bodied/plus-sized reader. Joon's an FBI agent, he's big and sexy, do you really need to know any more?

Reckless by @vyduan. Part of the Her multiverse. KNJ x reader, also featuring JJK x reader, idolverse. I started reading vyduan's writing when I first got into BTS fanfic, and apart from being a fucking fantastic writer, she's also an all-round good egg with a razor sharp wit. Reckless is hot and sexy and reader is gritty, strong and kickass. Namjoon is the arrogant pompous asshole of my dreams in this.

Fall apart & redefine by @ugh-yoongi. Idol KNJ x f! reader. Namjoon's music and musings give off sadboi vibes to me, and this gorgeous, angsty story captures all of that. Stunning.

On the line 1 by @augustbutwinter. KNJ x reader. I was only speaking the truth when I said August writes drabbles like no other. Short, cute and impactful.

Hey, it's me by @yoongiphoria. Exes Namjoon x reader. I remember reading this for the first time around the time Indigo came out and thinking how perfectly it captured the vibe of the album. I still love it now.

Untitled by @ahundredtimesover. An idolverse AU ft KNJ and f! reader. Musings on loss and impermanence and legacies also inspired by Indigo.

If this is all we can do by @yoongiphoria. A follow up to Hey, it's me, linked above, that made me stop skim reading and pay attention. Angsty, full of longing and just a great read.

The package thief by @blog-name-idk. KNJ x f! reader, enemies to lovers. I'm a fan of Mango's cracky humour, and it comes through in this judgy, petty and somehow also endearing Namjoon.

Shut up! by @daechwitatamic. KNJ x gn reader. I love it when a story alludes to Namjoon being annoying and I especially like how reader shuts him up. Smutty, sexy and so so good.

Envy by @whatifyoulivelikethat. KNJ x f! reader. Love this author's general DGAF vibes, and they've also written some of my favourite stories. Namjoon's gorgeously written and darkly sexy in this. So so hot.

The one with Namjoon and the u-haul by @eoieopda. KNJ x Jeon! reader. Jade's writing is sharply hilarious and this is a perfect example. A dreamy, sexy Namjoon and a lil shit JK.

Pheromones by @rmnamjoons. Spaceship captain Joon x spaceship botanist reader, sci-fi AU. The fic that introduced me to the concept of sex pollen and a sexy, sex-crazed yet somehow still chivalrous Namjoon.

Promise Me KNJ x f! reader, JJK x f! reader, military AU, by @sahmfanficbts. A beautifully written, tender love story that made me cry and reflect on my life. Sam writes emotions like no one else.

Additional notes: A few of my favourite Namjoon stories, are only on AO3, for which I've created a separate post.

[rosdevw2]

I wanna hear more wawas au stuff, but have no clue what question to ask- Q v Q

Because I dont feel like continuing this au I will tell you about some lore ideas I had for it:

Blue learned how to cook cause she watched Mango, and then later on Mango lets her cook with him

RBGY and second know how to fight, cause their dad teach them (jus in case)

DJ is here! he was one of the few friends of Alan, he's a normal stickfigures, the kids called him "Uncle DJ"

And also the kids didn't know where DJ lived that's why they didn't run with him when Dark attacked, DJ found out Alan's house destroyed later on and he's looking for the kids

After a while with the kids living with Mango, Second and Gold go play in a park near their house, but then 2 teenagers started bother them cause they saw that Second was a hollowhead, while Gold was protecting his sibling he gets punch in the face by one of the teens and Second gets so angry that their powers get activated, they shoot a laser at the teens who run in terror, and then Gold and Second go home, Mango is so worried by the way they both came back, and while Gold is like "that was so cool! i didn't know you had laser eyes!" Second doesn't wanna talk about it, and they're actually scared of it

Then later because of that, Agent knocks on their door asking if they had seen a orange hollowhead near by, Mango looked at him without any fear and is like "No, you should look somewhere else"

Something happens in between that, but Mango and Victim start to know eachother cause Victim wants to train Second so they can control their powers, but Mango doesn't want his kid to be a weapon. Also Victims starts to crush in Mango and it's funny

And just for you a very old drawing of tired dad Mango I didn't post:

[sticktopia]

Happy Accidents (RocketPrincess AU)

When a drunken one-night stand leaves Mango with an accidental pregnancy, he has to figure out how to keep his secret safe. Turns out, it's easier said than done when the baby's other parent is literally his boss.

⚠️Warning: Mpreg⚠️

Chapter 5

As the days went by, Mango became more and more comfortable with himself. He began to truly accept the baby. And he was feeling happier about everything.

Even the “rumors” didn’t bother him anymore. If anyone asked, he simply replied with; “Yeah. And?” 

Surprisingly, that was enough to stun people into simply saying “congratulations” before leaving. It made Mango wish he had done it sooner. 

All in all, the pregnancy was going quite smoothly. The nausea had subsided, cravings weren’t all too outrageous, and Mango wasn’t as exhausted anymore! Though, his belly was starting to come in. He would have to take his paternity leave soon.

“Mango.” The head technician glanced up to see Victim standing at the door.

“Ah, y-yes sir?” Mango sat up straighter as Victim approached the table.

“You’re here awfully late. Does your paternity leave not start tomorrow?” Mango furrowed his brow, turning to the clock on the wall. Sure enough, the clock read 7:30 pm. Mango’s eyes widened as he saw the time.

“I-I didn’t realize that it was so late.” Mango admitted sheepishly. His hand went to his growing bump, gently rubbing it as anxiety crept up on him.

“You should go home, Mango. Your body needs the rest.” Vic says, placing their hand on Mango’s shoulder and causing him to jump. Vic pulled their hand away.

“Apologies. I did not mean to frighten you.” Vic said as they took a step back. 

“I-it’s fine.” Mango sighed and rubbed his belly again; a nervous habit he gained as the baby began to grow. “I’ll go home when I finish the project.”

“So you’re not going on your leave then?” Mango and Victim looked up at the door to find Pivot leaning against the frame. Mango scoffed.

“I never said I wasn’t going to take my leave. I said-“

“You’ll give birth by the time the project is finished. Not to mention, you won’t even be able to do any testing while you’re pregnant.” Pivot continued as he stepped up to the pair.

“I didn’t mean the entire project nerd. Just when the blueprints are complete. I need-“

“To be carried out again. Smith.” Vic said. Without a word, Pivot swiftly came around the desk and had Mango in his arms within seconds.

“Ack! Pivot!!” Mango shouted. “Put me down!”

“No can do. Boss’ orders.” Pivot said with a smirk. Mango scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“At least let me grab my things! I can work on this at-“

“No you will not. Your paternity leave is so you can prepare your mind and body to take care of your little one. You will do no such thing.” Victim said as they grabbed Mango’s bag and handed it to Pivot. Before Mango could protest any further, Pivot was walking out with Mango in arm.

“I hate you.” Mango huffed as he rubbed his belly.

“Sure ya do.” Pivot chuckled as he entered the elevator. As they stood in the descending elevator, Mango started up a conversation.

“Are you gonna carry me all the way out?”

“Yep.”

“Why? That’s embarrassing. People are going to think-“

“Why does it matter what people think?” 

Mango paused to think about that. The agent kinda had a point. Why did it matter what others thought about him? Why did it bother him whether or not people thought he was dating Pivot or very pregnant. Mango had never really thought about it before. Maybe he could take the paternity leave to think it over.

The elevator stopped moving, snapping Mango out of his thoughts. As Pivot stepped out of the elevator, confetti suddenly rained down on him, and many voices shouting “SURPRISE” flooded his ears. Looking around, Mango’s eyes widened as there were many people there wishing him luck and congratulating him for being a “new” parent. Mango leaned closer into Pivot. Feeling a little awkward and overwhelmed by all the eyes on him.

“Wh-what…? Why…?” Mango barely stuttered out the words he wanted to say. He began to feel emotional, causing him to cover his face with his hands. The crowd awed and Mango spoke up.

“No! Don’t “aw” me! Stop it!” The crowd then burst into laughter as Pivot began walking across the massive lobby and towards the main entrance. As they made their way through the crowd, other sticks would shout their “good luck”s and bid farewells. Mango sniffled and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh my creators, this is so embarrassing.” Mango muttered. Pivot chuckled and whispered to the expecting stick.

“Come on. Admit you like it a little bit.” Mango sniffled and looked through Pivot’s sunglasses, into his cyan eyes.

“I’d rather be dead than admit something like that.” Pivot had to hold back a laugh as he exited the building. Mango huffed and rubbed his belly again. He hated Pivot.

As the pair got to the car, Pivot placed Mango down before taking the keys to his car and unlocking it. Pivot opened the passenger side door for Mango. Causing the expecting stick to arch his brow.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Chauffeuring you home.” Pivot said, peeking over his sunglasses at Mango. He even winked at him playfully. Mango sighed and rolled his eyes before stepping in. Pivot placed Mango’s bag on his lap before closing the door and walked around to the driver’s side. But he didn’t get in immediately. Instead, he spoke to someone for a bit.

Mango sighed and looked through his bag for his medicine & vitamins. The sound of the door opening and closing then caught his attention.

“What was that about?” Mango asked as he took his medicine.

“Something. Don’t worry about it.” Pivot said as he started the car and drove off.

The drive home was quiet and comfortable. There wasn’t much conversation between the two, but that was ok. They simply enjoyed existing side by side. Mango liked this. It was a rare feeling to have with someone he admired.

When Pivot pulled into the driveway, Mango tried to open the door, but was stopped when Pivot locked it. Mango arched his brow and turned to the head Agent in the driver’s seat.

“Ok, what’s up with you? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You carried me all the way to my car, drove me home, and now you won’t let me out of the car. What are you gonna do? Bang me in the back seat?”

“What the hell no???” Pivot said, furrowing his brow. Though Mango couldn’t help but notice the light dusting of a blush on his cheeks. “I’m sure the little one’s sire would kill me if I even thought of that.”

“Mmmm nah. They… don’t even know about the baby anyway.” Pivot’s eyes widened slightly as he heard this bit of information. Pivot watched as his friend’s gaze went from him, to his growing belly. Mango’s hand rested on his abdomen. He seemed to be very lost in thought; maybe even a little nervous. Pivot sighed and took his sunglasses off.

“Hey.” Pivot carefully placed his hand on Mango’s. “It’s gonna be ok. I’m here for you ya know.”

Mango sniffled and pulled his hand away, leaving Pivot’s hand over his small bump. Mango huffed and turned his head away from the agent, propping his chin up over his knuckles.

“Sh-shut up. You’re gonna make me cry more.” Mango sniffled pathetically. Pivot chuckled and shook his head.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He said as he pulled his hand away. He moved some hair out of his face and the two went back to silence. It was slightly more awkward than it was before. But it wasn’t unbearable. Mango sighed and looked back at Pivot.

“Are you going to let me out of the car or not?” Mango huffed.

“Mmm. In a bit.” Mango was about to ask what Pivot meant when a phone began to ring. Mango watched as his friend pulled out his phone. The agent immediately answered.

“You ready?…….. yeah we’re here, waiting on you……… alright we’ll head on in.” And with that, Pivot hung up the phone and pocketed it.

“Who was that?” Pivot didn’t answer Mango. He simply stepped out and walked around to open Mango’s door. He held a hand out for the technician. Mango rolled his eyes playfully before taking it.

“I hope this isn’t an assassination attempt. I really do want to have this baby Piv.” Pivot laughed as Mango said this.

“Trust me Mango. You’re gonna love this.” Pivot said as he led Mango to the door. Upon entry, Mango noticed the whole vibe of the house was different. He paused at the door, his hand going to his belly almost protectively.

“What did you do to my house?” Mango asked.

“Dad!” Mango looked past Pivot to see Purple come down the hall. “Dad dad! Come on! Come look!”

The teen immediately began to drag Mango back down the hall. Mango pulled away from the kid.

“Whoa whoa hold on. What’s going on?” Mango asked.

“It’s a surprise! Come on!” Purple said as they took Mango’s hand once more. As Mango’s son dragged him down the hall, Pivot followed close behind. As Mango was about to protest again, he paused as Purple dragged him into a room.

Mango’s jaw was on the floor as he looked around. What used to be the guest bedroom was now a beautiful nursery with a night sky theme. The walls were painted to look like a forest while the ceiling was painted with constellations and stars. The crib was white and the sheets inside were a soft grey with white stars. Even all the clothes in the closet were space or galaxy themed.

Mango stood frozen in the doorway as Purple’s friends, Stormi, and Clay stepped forwards and said; “Surprise!” He had to take a moment to process everything that was happening. Mango then felt his chest tighten and his eyes water. He buried his face in his hands, desperately trying (and failing) to stop or hide his tears.

“A-are you serious?” He choked out. “You guys we really did all this?”

“It was Purple’s idea.” Red said excitedly. Purple sheepishly chuckled.

“Well, we all did this together. You don’t have to say it was MY idea.”

“It’s b-beautiful…” Mango wept. Purple smiled and hugged their dad tightly.

“I love you Dad.”

“Oh my creators-why is everyone making me cry today?” Everyone laughed and joined the hug, embracing Mango with all the love in the world.

**********

One week into paternity leave, and Mango was already feeling restless. The stick had already spent the week doing all the crappy cheap DIY kits Purple and their friends got him. But they were all complete now. There was now nothing for him to do and being at home all day made him feel crazy.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” Mango muttered as he rubbed his still growing belly. The expectant father laid in his bed with his phone in his hands. He was watching some YouTube when he came across a video. Interested, Mango stopped to watch it. It was a vlog video. The stick was going on about their plans for the day. Explaining everything that the video was about.

Mango had never been into documenting his own life. It felt creepy for him to be posting his day to day life for thousands of other sticks to see. But the more he thought about it, the more… appealing it became to him. Of course, Mango was not brave enough to post online. But to have these videos to look back on was enough for him. So Mango got out of bed, did himself up a little nicer, and then pressed record.

“Uh, hello, this is Mango. The date right now is… June 12th 20XX. Um. I’m a little over 4 months pregnant now. And it’s been… interesting so far.” Mango lifted his shirt, turning sideways to show the camera his growing bump. He put his shirt down after a moment and turned to face the camera once more.

“This little one…. The way they came to be is quite… unique I’d like to say. Their other parent… well they aren’t aware that the baby is theirs. I’ve been so close to telling them so many times but I get scared and chicken out. I mean, hell. How do you tell your boss that you’re carrying their child?” Mango dryly chuckled as he thought about it. He opened his mouth to continue speaking when he felt something. Mango froze as he waited to feel it again. The corners of the stick’s lips suddenly pulled up into a smile as he felt it again; a kick.

“Oh my creators.” Mango softly gasped as he placed his hand where he last felt his baby kicking. Sure enough, as he placed his hand there, the baby kicked again. Mango’s other hand went over his mouth. Tears filled his eyes as joy overwhelmed him. Mango looked back at the camera and tearily chuckled.

“S-sorry.” He sniffled before grabbing the phone and lifting his shirt. “My baby’s kicking.”

Mango angled the camera so that it could get a good view of his baby bump. He rubbed said bump a bit, prompting the baby to squirm a bit. Mango smiled more.

“Creators, this is so weird.” He laughed. “But they’re alive… oh creators they’re alive.”

Mango had to stop recording shortly after. He couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears from escaping his eyes. But his hand never left his stomach. Feeling his baby kick was eye opening to him. It made Mango realize that he had been in half denial since the beginning. He’s now realizing that this is real. This baby was alive. And he was going to do everything he could to protect them.

**********

Mango laid on the couch feeling dizzy and nauseous. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way again, but he simply had to deal with it. Mango grabbed his phone and started recording.

“It is 12:30 pm, June 18th 20XX. I’m… really sick right now and-Ngh-“ Mango’s face contorted slightly as the baby in his belly kicked and squirmed.

“The kicking… isn’t helping all that much.” Mango sighed as he slowly sat up. Mango placed his hand over his mouth as he gagged a bit.

“I thought I was over all of this. But it seems like it goes on all throughout.” Mango said as he leaned on the arm rest. The baby soon calmed down and stopped their squirming. Though, the nausea didn’t cease.

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it. I mean, I’m gonna get a cute baby out of it.” Mango half joked.

“I really do hope this is worth it….”

**********

Mango decided that he wanted to walk around the town today. He was sick of being inside and taking a walk could help him get some fresh air.

As Mango made his way around the neighborhood, he took note of all the families that roamed. He began to fantasize and remember his own family. Remembering how Gold would always beg to go to the park at every chance. Imagining him, Purple, and Gold going out for corn dogs, thinking about how he’ll bring his new baby to the park whenever they pleased.

“Mango!” Mango paused as he heard the old familiar voice. Sure enough, when Mango turned to look down the street, there he was; Tosca. Mango smiled softly and made his way over to his old friend.

“Hey Tosca.” Mango chuckled as he approached. “Business doing well?”

“Of course. Though it ain’t the same without my favorite regular. I haven’t seen ya in a minute! Where ya been?” The man asked as he prepared the usual for Mango.

“Eh. Been around. Got a new job, things are happening, making a little more money.” Mango said as he took out his wallet.

“Hey, you don’t gotta pay today. From a friend to a friend.” Tosca said as he handed the corndog to Mango. The orange stick chuckled as he took the food.

“Thanks Tosca. How’s the family?” Mango asked as he took a bite.

“My girls are doing good. My Coco started first grade. And my beautiful Reef is expecting again. We’re leaving the gender a surprise.” Tosca chuckled. Mango hummed and rubbed his belly as the baby kicked. Tosca glanced down, noticing the movement. He then gasped and took Mango’s free hand.

“You’re pregnant?! Dude is this why I haven’t seen ya?!” Tosca hugged Mango excitedly. Making the stick choke a bit.

“C-careful! Tosca!” Mango said as he pushed his friend away a bit.

“Sorry sorry! But are ya serious?!” Tosca pulled away from Mango, giving him back his personal space. “I thought you weren’t going to have kids anymore!”

“Well, I adopted a kid named Purple. And this one… well, they’re a special case.”

“Oh this is so cool dude! How far along are ya?”

“Four and a half months.”

“Oh you’re close then! Hey! Our kids can be besties! Sure my kid will be a month or two behind yours but they can still grow up together! Isn’t that great?”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound too bad. I think th-ow! Fuck!” Mango’s hand went back to his belly. “Will you stop that?” 

“Active one huh? Coco was like that for Reef. The best way we got her to calm down was cuddling. Wait, ya have a partner now? I thought that-” Mango went quiet and looked away.

“Oh…” Was all Tosca could mutter out. Mango sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “S-sorry.”

“No, it's fine. Please. Just, I don’t want to talk about it…”

“No no it’s ok. I’m sorry Mango.”

“Hey it’s fine, really. I’m fine.” Mango said as he finished his corndog. “I should get going now, see you around Tosca.”

“Yeah. I’ll come over later man. We can catch up and talk yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye Tosca.”

Chapter 4-(Chapter 5)-Chapter 5.5

[glittercake]

WIP GAME

@downwarddnaspiral thank you for the tag to share some of my wips :) which... i cant believe i actually have unposted wips for a change! i normally just write one thing at a time and finish it. i cant say when any of these will be done though, but at least they exist lmao. i've been busy irl and too tired to write.

so. here goes:

The sambucky divorce AU: titled Moments Away for now (from the Mango Groove song) i have about 6k, redid the outline 3 times because it was just too much, and had some personal war flashbacks while writing it so i had to take a breather 😂 Excerpt:

Sam's mama always said love’s never going to be enough and he didn't understand how that was possible. He didn’t understand—as a seventeen-year-old, so in love he could barely see out of his own eyes, or as a sophomore on the back of a dropout, bad boy’s motorbike, or as a new father of beautiful twin girls with the love of his life—how that could ever be the truth. But he gets it now. 

more below the cut!

Next is a Sambucky Night Agent AU: based on the netflix series. it's basically cap sam/modern bucky but with suspense :) this is literally all i have so it might change completely:

There’s murder on the news. The Vice President’s dead. The nation’s in uproar. They’re saying he did it. They’re saying Captain America has committed treason. His face is plastered across the news, on every station on every street pole, his description is flying through the airways as he sits here covered in blood, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t do this. Sam can’t fucking breathe. He’s not someone to admit this easily, but he needs help. He needs help in a big fucking way. He eyes the number that dying woman stuffed in his hand earlier and hopes his phone line is still connected.

This one is a post canon fic where they run into each other on vacation and decide to have a little summer fling and then drama happens when bucky joins thunderbolts when they return.

Technically Sam wouldn’t be fucking his co-worker. Technically, they’ve only worked together like once, really. Bucky’s mouth is in his neck right now, and Sam can feel a bruise forming but he’s doing nothing to stop it because Bucky’s hand is also on Sam’s dick and it’s all going downhill real quick. So does he want to shit where he eats? No. Is he going to tell Bucky to stop? Also no. They’re on vacation and it’s anything but separate, like they threatened—in fact they’re plastered together—so something, something stays in Vegas…

then a fucking vampire AU?? which was very unexpected but I'm having fun planning it and writing little bits at a time. basically sam is a photographer looking to advance his career and bucky is a 100yo vampire. hmm.

There’s a sudden movement at the top of the stairs, so swift it’s dizzying. Sam can't place it. Just a gust of black night and bright blue, like the electric zap of lightning in a storm. Sam’s instinct is to retreat, wanting to back himself out of there. Overcome with fear. But something else sticks him in place, makes him hone in on the movement. A tall, slim figure, pale as moonlight, glides down the steps as if they’re not there at all, with the grace of an encroaching predator, salivating with deadly hunger, and Sam can’t move. Only after a few paralyzing moments does he recognize the shape as a person. A man. Sam realizes now that the flash of electric blue he’d seen is the man’s eyes.

anyway, that's it. i'm actually keen to get work done on these. hopefully i get some time soon :)

[storgicdealer]

OKOKOK so im re classpecting the sticks bc i understand much more abt classpects now than i did when i first classpected them. i hope you dont mind if i drop em here bc youre very smart and you know both avam and hs so

tsc - lord of space (this stays, its way too narratively relevant for it not to)

green - prince of breath (very passionate, perfectionist, tries to be carefree even when he cares way too much about what other people think)

yellow - mage of light (moreso on the knowledge front than the luck front, similar to rose but more active in his role, likes to figure things out but using what shes previously learned)

blue - witch of life (FEFERI WOOO obv shes very witchy, leaf feels like theyd be more rebellious, life player bc its very energetic and tends to take on a healer role in the group)

red - knight of heart (tends to jump straight to protecting her friends, very impulsive and passionate/soulful, acts confident but is sometimes more hesitant than others realise)

victim - thief of hope (man i was so on point with this one)

chosen - mage of doom (has a lot of firsthand experience with doom and suffering, also suffers from their aspect, and very good at causing doom *cough* chosen has never won a fight on the right side *cough*)

dark - heir of time (very destructive by default, causes a lot of death, RED 🔥🔥🔥, but also logical, at times a bit too laid back and chill)

striker - maid of mind (maid im not sure on i just wasnt sure what else to do, mind bc shes very straightforward, thoughtful, plans ahead, very serious and logical)

purple - prince of blood (accidentally or on purpose fucks up almost all his relationships at some point, at the same time is also the reason most of his friends met in the first place, Prince = royalty theming, also matches with green)

mango - rogue of life (acts very skeptical and un-lifey but takes life from others to give to the people they care about)

gold - sylph of hope (loves to cheer people up, very hopeful and energetic demeanor, fairly childish, wants to make everyone happy all the time!!!)

hangman - bard of rage (calms people down, fairly chill compared to the other players, prefers to support and wishes people were more peaceful and mature)

ballista - knight of breath (session lacks breath for reasons i dont feel like describing rn, acts chill but actually feels like he cant live up to the title of Hero and isnt that carefree, protects the few people he attaches himself too <- that one scene in his original short where he draws upon the memories of his friends to open the door)

hazard - seer of void (ngl this is mostly just process of elimination but hazard feels pretty void oriented tbf. hes so chill hes not minding anyones business)

paleo - witch of heart (same as above </3 very passionate headstrong etc etc)

sorry for the word vomit in your inbox i want to talk to you more and idk how to initiate conversation other than random infodumps

OH I ABSOLUTELY DONT MIND PLEASE DO SEND ME STUFF LIKE THIS

oh this is so good. this is so good

my knowledge on classpects is probably slightly closer to surface level than yours lmao but from what i get GOD yes !!!!!! yellow being a mage of light / red being a knight of heart is literally them hello. absolutely. its in their code

PRINCE OF BLOOD PURPLE !!!!!!!! WOOOOOOO !!!!! thief of hope victim OH this is so good. im eating this up (id say my victim leans towards being a rogue a little bit. my whole rambling on how much i associate the motif of them being a "divine being sharing the gift of the animators with the outernet" typa thing) mage of doom chosen DONT even joke with me lad. im shaking him shaking him so hard

MAID OF MIND AGENT !!! MAID OF MIND AGENT !!! (even if not a maid shes still very much a mind player methinks)

oh knight of breath ballista oohhh ... this is so smart oh my god (and very obviously. already fits with one of his forms in "wanted" of literally looking like a knight lol)

wait i just realized green & purple knight and princ. cinder im gonna. im. oh this is SO good

[bettydice]

yes I was one of the sleeper agents activated by the new dragon age trailer (apparently, quite unexpectedly), so I picked up a da:i playthrough I started 2 years ago just for chill sidequesting anyway here's Mango

[worldfusepodcast]

0. Pilot -- Transcript

Listen here: [link]

[The podcast's intro plays -- it is a simple but slightly foreboding sounding melody]

[sound of a voice recorder clicking on] AARUSH: I uh... don’t know where to start, to be honest. From the beginning-- but I don’t even know where that is, I mean– okay. Deep breaths.

[Aarush takes a breath and breathes out.]

AARUSH: This is Agent Varma, reporting on the assignment to a new entity. The entity is a sentient nullification object, capable of completely disabling all forms of magic in an area. The Bureau has assigned it the name of ‘Fuse’. The ability of this entity is to completely nullify any magic in its area, the entity is sentient and alive, blah blah blah. If possible, bring it back to the Bureau for safe containment.

[Long pause. When Aarush speaks next, he sounds conflicted.]

AARUSH: Well. It seems like this . . . ‘Fuse’ is a character that can be communicated with? An animal? A sentient object, maybe? I remember that one world map–

[The voice recorder clicks off.]

~

[The scene has changed to a small coffee shop. Background noises include indistinct chatting and cutlery being used.]

AARUSH: (breathing out and muttering.) Okay. Green tea latte, large, less ice. Green tea latte, large, less ice. Green tea–

CASHIER: Hey, what can I get ya?

AARUSH: Green tea latte, lice, less arge. I mean-- less ice, large. Sorry. Can I just get that to-go? Thank you.

[He walks and sits at a booth with a clear view of the entrance of the coffeeshop. There is a rustle as he takes out the voice recorder and clicks it on.]

AARUSH: Current location, Blooms n’ Potions, a coffee shop that doubles as a flower shop. That cashier over there didn’t look too happy, but she’s working a shift at a café, so it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary.

AARUSH: This is also one of the known haunts of Fuse. I have a machine with me that'll tell me when an anomaly walks through that door. Hopefully it comes soon and I can avoid this place for the rest of my life... 

[The machine beeps while at the same time the bell over the door jingles.]

AARUSH: (fervently, but quietly) Shit. No one fucking told me Fuse was a person! Oh, shit... Okay. Okay, okay. Focus. Ugh I need to... yes.

[He gets up from his seat and walks into line behind Quinn.]

QUINN: Iced apple and mango tea, with a chocolate strawberry waffle. To go, please.

AARUSH: Hi, are you a regular here?

QUINN: (surprised and stuttering a little) S-sorry, a-are you talking to me?

AARUSH: Yeah! I’m new here, and there’s just a lot of choices... I was wondering which might be a good one?

QUINN: (to Aarush) Hold on.

QUINN: (to the cashier) Thanks for the drinks!

QUINN: (back to Aarush) Right, you’ll want to pick either the bagels or the cheesecake, I swear on my mother that both are positively divine.

AARUSH: Mm... not the cheesecake, I’m not a fan.

QUINN: (feigning shock) Not cheesecake!? Alright then, what about strawberry shortcake?

AARUSH: (to Quinn) Yeah, shortcake is fine.

[The bell over the door jingles as a new person enters the café and walks over into the line.]

AARUSH: (to cashier) A shortcake please. Ye– Yeah no, I’ll have it here.

???: Oh, goodness, Aarush, is that you?

AARUSH: (delighted) Candy! Goodness, it has been a while!

Candy: (curious) Quinn’s here too!

QUINN: (fond) Candy.

AARUSH: You two know each other? 

CANDY: Sort of.

AARUSH: Let me guess... Intern? No, law student? Wait, no, I got it-- coffee intern.

QUINN: (laughs) God, no. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the law industry. No, I’m one of her clients. Harleyquinn Argus. A pleasure to meet you. You may call me Quinn.

AARUSH: (incredulous) No way... Quinn? Like, Detective Argus?

QUINN: (flirtatious) Oh, you've heard of me?

AARUSH: (amused) Yeah, a friend of mine is a fan of yours.

CANDY: (embarrassed laugh) Uh-heh... ha... Sorry about that, Quinn.

QUINN: (teasing) Well, well. Want my autograph later, Candy?

CANDY: It is not like that, it’s just...

QUINN: (mock-knowingly) I know, I know. I must’ve charmed you away from Indigo finally. And now you've run to Aarush over here just to complain.

CANDY: (embarrassed and annoyed) Quinn!!

QUINN: (copying her tone of voice) Candy!!

AARUSH: Alright, alright. You must see a lot of cases, chasing down criminals and whatnot.

QUINN: Not really. Most of my time is spent working for a magazine. Ever heard of ‘Hush!’? I work for them as a writer; most of their pieces are written by me.

AARUSH: No, is that a tabloid or something?

QUINN: (vaguely affronted) I’m a little offended that you’d think I’d work for a tabloid.

CANDY: As much as I love to watch you two banter, we are holding up the queue.

AARUSH: Uh, I have a table over there. Candy, care to join us, or is today an off-duty day?

CANDY: I’ll come over once my drink is done.

[Aarush and Quinn walk over and sit at the booth.]

QUINN: So, you still never told me what you actually work as. You’re a civil servant, but are you one of those black suits, or...?

AARUSH: Uhh, I work with the public...

[Quinn makes a sound of sympathy.]

AARUSH: (chuckling) It’s not that bad once you get used to the fact that most people suddenly don’t want to cooperate when they realize you’re part of the government.

QUINN: Ugh, I hear you. Every time they hear I’m a detective it's all “Ooh! Can you tell where I’ve been these past few hours? Or can you deduce my entire backstory?” I’m a detective, not Sherlock Holmes.

AARUSH: Well, can you?

QUINN: That’s not a trick I reveal on the first meeting.

AARUSH: So not a one-trick pony then?

QUINN: Master of many, actually.

CANDY: You two getting along?

AARUSH: Like a house on fire.

QUINN: Absolutely smashing.

CANDY: Well I’m not sure I like the sound of those metaphors... What’s the issue this time, Aarush?

AARUSH: Nothing much, just some new interns acting up and making use of the loopholes. And today’s a peaceful day, surprisingly. It’s been a whole four hours since I clocked in, and there hasn’t been a call for me yet.

CANDY: I keep telling you that you have to be stricter with them! They always treat you as the nice senior. One day, I tell you! One day!

AARUSH: (jokingly) But if I’m not the nice senior, then who will be? Not Jacques; they’re far too intense for that. Not you either, since you’re basically a consultant.

CANDY: Ooh, harsh. Unlike the two other members on my team, I actually have a job.

QUINN: Speaking of, there is something I want to ask you about, Candy. I’ve been working on a case recently, and I need some news about the laws on blackmail.

AARUSH: Blackmail?

QUINN: (clicks his tongue) Don’t you worry your pretty little head.

AARUSH: Is this just another thing that detectives have to research, or...?

CANDY: (laughs) You wouldn’t believe what he’s asked me about. For some reason, he keeps the same god-awful hours as me, so sometimes I’ll get a text at like, two o’clock in the morning asking for help with some obscure law that even I’m unfamiliar with. I keep telling him to read up by himself, but–

QUINN: That’s because I want an excuse to spend time with you, Candy. I need to endear myself to you so if Indigo ever tries to attack me, I can crash with you.

CANDY: Aww, Indigo wouldn’t do that. She hates you, but my partner would never stoop to murder. She’d just examine your past and find a way to convict you for life.

QUINN: (dryly) And that is so much better.

AARUSH: Jesus, Quinn! What did you do to Candy’s partner for her to hate you that much? It takes a lot for Indigo to really show that she dislikes you.

QUINN: Who knows? She’s professional, though. Never brings it up when I ask her something related to the law. But all bets are off when we stop talking shop.

[a phone notification sound chimes.]

CANDY: Well, It’s been lovely chatting, but I really have to go now. This was just a short coffee break anyway, so—

QUINN: The lawyer’s responsibilities strike again.

CANDY: I’ll send those files over to you later, Quinn. Aarush, later!

[Candy leaves and the bells over the door jingle again. Awkward silence ensues.]

QUINN: So. 

AARUSH: Uh So. Um. Anything interesting happen lately?

QUINN: (teasing) Wow. You're really not a fan of silence, are you?

AARUSH: No, no I . . . I suppose not. 

QUINN: (sighs) Anything interesting... hmm? Well, someone I know offered to read my future, and I accepted. Thinking about it now... I think you're supposed to be my Fool.

AARUSH: (disbelievingly) Excuse me?

QUINN: My future card was the Fool. I looked it up, and apparently it meant new beginnings. So I guess you're my new beginning?

AARUSH: That... is an incredibly cheesy mindset, oh my god–

QUINN: (embarrassed) Yeah I realized how it sounded when I said it out loud.

AARUSH: (cheekily) So... Is this how you usually talk your suspects into telling you things? Or am I just special?

QUINN: (covering his face with his hands) Ulgh, please. Let's stop talking now.

[The voice recorder clicks off.]

~

[The scene has changed to a small apartment. Background noises include ambient room sounds. The voice recorder clicks on.]

AARUSH: After chatting with Quinn, I really can’t connect the idea of a weapon of mass destruction with him. He just seems like a guy with a dry sense of humor. (sighs) This is wrong. We’re treating him as a thing to be used, but–

[The phone rings. Aarush lets it ring out and the call goes to voicemail.]

VOICEMAIL: At the end of your message, press 1. (beep)

AUTOMATED VOICE: Agent Varma, I know you’re there. Answer the call. 

[Aarush walks and picks up his phone. He redials the number.]

AARUSH: Hello?

???: (the voice is clearly distorted and disguised) Mr. Varma, are you ready for the consequences that this will bring upon Ochens?

AARUSH: Who are you? This is a private line.

DEUCE: I am Deuce. I represent the Machine. (chuckles) I am also someone who is heavily invested in Quinn’s wellbeing. I will not tell you to stop your current path. But I will ask you this: If you had to choose between the world and Quinn, what is your choice?

AARUSH: You know of his powers, don’t you? The ‘Fuse’–

DEUCE: (sharply) He is more than his powers. Do not reduce him to a void.

AARUSH: (apologetic) Sorry.

DEUCE: But you are correct. Quinn is an essential cog in Ochens. He is the fuse, magic is the current, and I am Ochens’s engineer.

AARUSH: Is Quinn... important?

DEUCE: Beyond anything you could ever fathom. If he dies, Ochens dies with him. His existence itself is proof that the world exists.

AARUSH: Is that a part of his powers?

DEUCE: It's not a power. Quinn sees the world the way it wants to be seen.

AARUSH: (slightly strained) Cool. Great. So now you're telling me that the– what that the world is sentient? Self-aware? What, like it knows we’re listening?

DEUCE: Do you think otherwise?

AARUSH: (huffs disbelievingly) Come on.

DEUCE: You don’t have to believe me. But you must trust me. Your job to watch over Quinn is extremely important. You must listen to yourself, Aarush. Your ideals, your goals... (chuckles) You must remember yourself.

[The call ends, and the dial tone beeps.]

AARUSH: (sighs) End of report.

[voice recorder clicks off.]

[podcast outro music plays under the credits.]

Credits

This was World Fuse. It written by Lupin and Audio edited by Neutron, Ila Alexei, and Eli Schwarz.

The gorgeous album art is by Ila Alexei.

You've heard the lovely voices of Neutron as Aarush Varma, Ila Alexei as Harleyquinn Argus, Bailey Mertz-Symchyck as Candy, Eli Schwarz as Deuce, and Alexander Wolfe as additional voices.

Thank you so much for listening.

[muddyorbsblr]

thots & theories :: loki season 2 episode 1

This post will contain spoilers for the first episode of Loki Season 2 under the cut so please if you haven't watched yet, then press Keep Reading at your own risk.

What you will find under the cut: Whoring out and the return of a side of me that I never actually thought would ever come out again…"Theorist Ally" 🥴🫡

Thots

Please tell me I wasn't the only one at risk of heading to the ER from choking after seeing that first shot of TVA agents chasing Loki down the hallway like besties & fellow whores I did not have "Marvel mercifully decides to leave the mango untouched" in my 2023 bingo card. But we actually got that shot in HD now and it's blowing my tiny whoring mind 🥵😮‍💨

And all the hair flips we got once he lands from a time slip with the tense jaw and neck muscles like Sir we're trying to feel for you and feel the urge to wrap you in a blanket and give you cuddles, but you're making it really hard not to think about [redacted]

Lemme just give y'all some shots that had me feeling all kinds of ways throughout this episode:

Thoughts

Something I really appreciated in this was that while Loki was concerned about how the time slipping looked to people witnessing it, Mobius was more concerned about how Loki felt experiencing it. Precious beb deserves to have someone that actually cares to that level and that bit just warmed my cold dead heart 🥹

In the same vein as above, Mobius' refusal to give up on Loki coming back until the last possible second and even begging OB to hold off a little longer really struck a chord with me because again, he now has someone that isn't just concerned about his well-being but also will believe in him even if everyone's going to tell them to give up 💖

The scene where OB was remembering new memories from his past in realtime during his conversation with Mobius in the present was something that I found insanely clever like let me tell you I was geeking out about it on my couch at 9am on a Friday morning

The sequences where Loki begins to realize in seconds where he's been yoinked off to in the timeline was a really good showcase of how smart our stabby boi is because he was using elements in his surroundings to form a timeline in his head to estimate where he was and he's doing all this under the pressure of not knowing when he's going to disappear again and under visibly excruciating pain 🥺💖

I'm living for the fact that B-15's part of the main group of characters and she really served that look of "are you fucking kidding me and right in front of my salad" when General Dox and X-5 were having their little moment.

Speaking of Dox and X-5…something's going on with those two and if y'all are thinking "mother/son" then lemme just nudge you in the direction of Oedipus Complex because…something about those two don't sit right with me 😖😖

The whole profound emotional moment with Sylvie finally feeling like she can breathe and not have to worry about running anymore and actually eat something that isn't something she hunted would have had the teeniest bit more impact if it didn't take place in a McDonald's but I gotta admit I too have once considered trying the entire menu 😂

Theories

Let's start off with my theories surrounding the scene where they fix the Temporal Loom because I have a feeling that we're going to be returning to that sequence and that setting quite a few times towards the end of the season. And with that sequence alone I have so many questions.

Like how did Sylvie get stuck in the elevator? Who pruned Loki that allowed him to return to his present timeline and also save Mobius in the process? Who's on the other end of the line on that ringing phone in the future? Why is General Dox sending troops upon troops of Minutemen to Sylvie's location and how is she even certain that where they're all headed off to is the location they're after?

So here's a few of my theories/predictions for what we're about to see as Season 2 plays out:

Loki prunes himself – I think we're going to revisit that scene where Loki gets pruned only from a more future Loki's point of view where we see that he's the one that prunes Episode 1 Loki so that he could be extracted and returned to his present timeline. He's the one holding the time stick.

General Dox is a tertiary antagonist – in the grand scheme of the season I think she and X-5 will probably at most be a nuisance with some firepower, but they're not the biggest threat after Kang, which leads me to…

OB is a secondary antagonist – I know I know we love him right now because he's fun and quite matter of fact, but hear me out. I think that his priority will be fixing the Temporal Loom which goes against what at least B-15 stands for because each branched timeline has countless lives living in them. He knows how the loom works and he knows how to repair it, so he puts that above all else to the extent where he could try and reconcile them all once again into a Sacred Timeline. Point is, he won't want the Loom to break.

Rennslayer and Kang are the primary antagonists…and maybe also Minutes? – that casual hard launch in the beginning scenes where Loki's in the past TVA hasn't left my mind and I think this is where we're headed

And now here's where I go tin foil hat and give my most out there theory that I hope won't happen but something tells me that it will.

So…y'all know how in Doctor Who, Clara Oswald sacrifices herself into the Doctor's timeline and splits herself into thousands (maybe even millions) of iterations of herself with the singular goal of saving the Doctor? She becomes a being that is destined to make that decision again and again because the Clara that jumped into the timeline was a life that's probably already been created as a result of that very sacrifice?

That type of circular infinite path of life is like the snake that's forever doomed to eat its own tail in a circle until the end of time. That concept and that symbol is called an Ouroboros.

And now that I've given that long winded intro here's the part where some of you are about to click off and call me delulu and you know what valid but if you're still here and you wanna see the clown show here we go:

Loki will become an Ouroboros

I don't think this episode was just titled "Ouroboros" because we're being introduced to OB. I think there was a more profound meaning to the episode title, that meaning being that this is the path that Loki's headed down. I think he sacrifices himself in the scene where he faces the Temporal Loom without a protective suit on and this will cause him to split into infinite versions of himself throughout the timelines. And one of these infinite versions will find himself in the Future TVA where he sees the Loki from Episode 1 running in search of a time stick.

Now I can already hear some of you going "But Ally why would he do that?" And I'm going to pull from Loki's words directly to explain what his motive could be to do such a thing:

"I want to save my friends"

Now with all that being said, I'm totally open to other theories and I genuinely hope that my big theory is not correct because I really don't like that that's the route my brain went when trying to connect the pieces.

Gonna go and tag some usual suspect besties in this (and not gonna put this into the series tag because self preservation): @gigglingtiggerv2 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @coldnique @peachyjinx @gruftiela @lokisgoodgirl @loopsisloops @give-me-a-moose @lokischambermaid @tallseaweed @mischief2sarawr @maple-seed @joyful-enchantress @november-rayne @ladyofthestayingpower @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @liminalpebble @simplyholl +++

[wordsvomit101]

11. Lilac

(1 year after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

In the cozy confines of their home, Minhyeok busied himself in the kitchen, preparing gilgeori toasts for himself and Raon as the light from the outside windows slowly darkened. The warm glow of the stovetop illuminated his face as his hands danced across the bowl, deftly combining the vibrant hues of cabbage, carrot, and green onion with a symphony of seasonings

The air fills with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling butter as he transforms slices of bread into golden brown, their crisp edges whispering a promise of delight. With practiced hands, he makes the cabbage mixture, coaxing it into a firm rectangle from his spatula's touch, and dividing it into two perfect squares. As they sizzle and turn an enticing golden, their edges sing a chorus of readiness.

Meanwhile, Raon, who was sitting at the kitchen counter doing her homework, looked up and noticed the growing darkness. She quickly got up and walked over to the right wall, where she flicked on the light switch. The kitchen was suddenly bathed in a warm, inviting light, casting a golden glow on everything in its path. The smell of freshly toasted bread filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of mugunghwa from the windowsill. The wind rustled through the leaves of the trees outside, creating a soft, soothing sound that seemed to harmonize with the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

"Geez, you sure worked hard in that cultural workshop last summer", Raon said as she walked over beside him, her face now brightened with the promise of good food.

She wasn't wrong, Minhyeok fondly recalls his lively experience at the cultural workshop during summer camp, where he immersed himself in the vibrant traditional cooking of different countries. His skills improved and he also got to take home some of his and other people's creations. One of his favorites is the mango gelatin salad from a dessert enthusiast, the girl, and most others, was very kind to let him have a bite in each of her dishes, thankfully she seems to also take a liking to his meals like their peers.

"I'm stoked you're so eager for this quick snack that you totally spaced on your homework. But, hey, heads up, it's due tomorrow in the second period, you know?", with a teasing chuckle, he glanced back at Raon noting her annoyed and tired frown at him, daring him to remind her of her procrastination.

"Ugh, seriously? Let me relax my brain for a bit, won't you? Don't worry, I'll get it done. Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Killjoy."

He let out a short laugh at her and with a flourish, he stacks these patties upon a slice of toast, sprinkling a bit of sugar upon them without much thought. The skillet beckons once more, its heat embracing slices of ham, their sizzle a welcome addition to the symphony of flavors. He thought about her recent late-night research again when he saw it on her laptop while helping her clean her bedroom again, which surprisingly was not about fiction novels or comics, but hair dye and eye lenses.

"While I was being your personal room cleaner, I noticed your laptop was all about hair dye and eye lenses. You're not plotting a secret identity change, are you? Or are you planning to join a punk rock band?", this got him a slap to the back, not enough to hurt due to the lighthearted nature but enough to sting a bit.

"Can't I have a little privacy around here? Seriously, you're worse than a NIS agent!", she walked back to her seat and answered his questions with a huffy voice as he placed a crown of melted cheddar cheese glistens with an irresistible glow atop the ham. He then placed it upon the cabbage patties, overtop with a drizzle of ketchup and mayonnaise, and the final slice of toast as a final touch.

"Okay, okay, sorry for snooping around. I also didn't mean to tease you about it. So what's the story behind the hair dye and eye lenses then?", as he sliced two toasts in half, he could feel the reluctant from the girl behind him. She signed out a bit before admitting.

"You know how it is at school, right? Everyone's always staring and whispering about my hair and eyes, if it wasn't for Ahjussi and Ahjumma, the principal would still think I'm looking for trouble. I'm on a mission now to get some black hair dye and brown lenses to blend in and stop all the fuss", she explained and took a half toast from the plate he put on the counter, a glint of shock from her eyes as she looks at the toast before taking a bigger bite. He better snatched at least one before she took it all.

"But why the sudden urge to change things up now? I mean, we've been in middle school for months, and you've been fine all this time. What's changed?", this got a flinch out of her and he narrowed his eyes at the movement. He doesn't have a good feeling about it.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she finally spoke up, her voice tinged with unease, "Yeah, um... It's because of my new friends at the book club. They, uh, they don't really into the whole pink-purple combo I've got going on, you know?"

Minhyeok couldn't help but feel that those people had pretty bad taste, though he wisely kept that thought to himself. He knew that saying it out loud might put the girl on the defensive, especially since these were her first experiences with friends outside of their circle. After a moment of contemplation, he carefully chose his words.

"You're my friend, and I'll help you talk about it with my parents if that's your choice, Eomma does know a lot of good hair salons", this got Raon perked up but deflates at his next words, "However, if you started to dye your hair for a long time, it might mess it up, and eye lenses? Isn't that a bit much if your eyes are fine?"

She munched slowly on her second toast before sheepishly asking him, "Then... what do I do then?", he really doesn't like how she look lost and sad like this trying to please people who probably wouldn't care less about this topic a month later.

"You already look good without having to change. Not just me, a lot of people will think that", he's not lying, Raon never looks bad, her unique traits make it easy to find her even in the crowd of people, and the pink-purple of her hair and eyes have a calming feel about them. Like the lilacs he once admired from Mr Lee's garden.

"Thanks, you're too nice... But, let's be real. My hair's all over the place, and these eyes? They're just... odd. I don't get why you think they're anything special... they're never as beautiful as my Eomma's", she said in a somber tone, with a hint of wetness in her voice, and she averted her eyes from his.

Not willing to handle the silence in the closed space, she takes the third toast before standing up to walk out to the house's backyard to sit on the patio chair to watch the sunset.

He also followed along and sat down beside her, letting the quiet between them ease her heart, and observed her as the sun cast an ethereal glow on her. The warm, golden light enveloped her in a halo of luminosity. Her delicate features, bathed in the soft glow, seemed to come alive, the curves of her face and the vibrant hues of her pink-purple hair and eyes taking on a new dimension.

He could almost see the aureole around her, bathed in the golden embrace of the setting sun, her beauty was beyond lovely and there was yet a time his breath was not stolen from looking at her.

"You know", he started, his heart beating loudly in his ribcage, his words catching her attention, "Believe me this time, you stand out in the best way possible. Like a lilac in a field of wildflowers"

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End notes:

Gilgeori toasts are a popular street food in South Korea. The term "gilgeori" translates to "street corner," indicating that these toasts are often sold at street food stalls or food trucks. Gilgeori toasts consist of toasted sandwich bread filled with various ingredients such as scrambled eggs, ham or bacon, cheese, vegetables like cabbage or lettuce, and sometimes sauces like ketchup or mayonnaise. They are typically grilled or toasted until the bread is crispy and the fillings are warm and melty. Gilgeori toasts are enjoyed as a quick and satisfying snack or meal on the go.

"Eomma" is a Korean term that translates to "mom" or "mother" in English. It's a loving and affectionate term used to address one's own mother or to refer to someone else's mother respectfully.

An NIS agent typically refers to an agent of the National Intelligence Service (NIS), the primary intelligence agency of South Korea. The NIS is responsible for gathering and analyzing intelligence relevant to national security, counterterrorism, and foreign affairs. NIS agents undergo rigorous training and may be involved in various operations, including espionage, counterintelligence, and protecting the country's interests both domestically and abroad. They play a crucial role in safeguarding South Korea's security and interests in an increasingly complex global landscape.

[quibbs126]

(Slams list on metaphorical table) Okay, here’s what I’ve got so far! Popcorn/Banana: While it would be cool to have Banana Chip be an entertainer like Banana, I feel like it would be cooler if they were some sort of behind-the-scenes kind of person, like a set designer or scriptwriter.

Pomegranate/Affogato: These two definitely groomed their child to be a prophet/“golden child” for the Cookies of Darkness. Pomegranate Sundae themself is probably rather somber and depressed, wanting something more for themselves.

Latte/Almond: Maybe a detective who uses milk magic to discover clues and solve crimes. I feel like she’d be more chill than Almond.

Kumiho/Werewolf: Either Salted Marshmallow or Kitsune. Salted Marshmallow combines the saltiness of Werewolf and the marshmallow flavor of Kumiho, while Kitsune is a fox demon/werewolf thing that could fit with their themes. Also the monster form is gonna ROCK!

Coffee Candy/Cherry Ball: All I’m thinking here is parkour because a) its a sport b) jumping around would probably come in handy if they were an agent at the time agency Coffee Candy works at, and c) parkour’s just cool

Shining Glitter/Herb: Maybe Glitter Rose? Those look really pretty and colorful. As for personality, I see her as energetic and cheerful, and maybe she could be a backup singer?

Electric Eel/Box Jellyfish: For names, I’m thinking either Golden Jellyfish or Egg Yolk Jellyfish. I was going to recommend the Man o’ war, but it’d be weird to mention people in the cookie world…

White Lily/Pomegranate: How about Amaranthus? It’s pretty cool-looking, and the colors would fit. Don’t have many ideas for personality yet, but I feel like that poor kids going to be pretty conflicted…

Cream Unicorn/Stardust: How about Unicorn Ice Cream? The pictures I’ve seen look pretty cute, and it would fit the color scheme. They could be a space traveler like Stardust! Or maybe some sort of cosmic hero?

Shadow Milk/Lychee: How about Damson Plum? They’re dark blue like Shadow Milk and a round fruit like Lychee. Or maybe Blue Mango, Filius Blue Pepper, or Honeyberry!

Hero/Sandwich: I’ve actually got a good one for this: Submarine Sandwich. This is because another word for a submarine sandwich is a hero sandwich…yes, this name is a pun, no I’m not ashamed.

Longan/Timekeepr: Maybe Longan Cake or Longan Bread? That would combine the bread of Croissant/Timekeeper and the flavor of Longan. Also, this kid would probably be super powerful; maybe a time/dimensional traveler?

Dark Cacao: Maybe Dark Butter to relate to cocoa butter? Ooh, or maybe Dark Ganache to relate to chocolate ganache!

Parents for Kumiho and Vagabond: I saw your about the parents, so how about Ginger Fox for the mom and Toasted Marshmallow for the dad? Ginger Fox is a simple name that involves both ginger and foxes, and Toasted Marshmallow is apparently a semi-popular dessert in Korea.

I think I like the idea of a set designer, that sounds more exciting

I’m not entirely sure about the Pomegranate Sundae one, all I can think about is that they just have golden eyes. Maybe I need to stew on them more

Yeah I think I’m going with the doctor idea for Almond Milk, sorry

First off, Werewolf is made of pepper, not salt. Just wanted to clarify. But I’m not sure I like those names either, sorry about that

I’m also going with the baseball idea for Cherry Candy

Yet again, going with the jeweler idea, but I’ll keep the name Glitter Rose, it could work too

I think I’ll go with Sea Nettle, again

I do like Amaranth for the name, that sounds like it fits better than Poppy. I’m not sure about the personality either

I probably should incorporate the Unicorn part into the Cream Unicorn kid names, shouldn’t I? Unicorn Ice Cream doesn’t sound bad either, and I like the space traveler thing, or perhaps they’re associated with the World of Dreams since that seems like a good blend of their aesthetics

Damson Plum or Blue Mango aren’t half bad, I’ll keep them in mind along with Lychee Boba

Submarine Sandwich ain’t half bad either, but again, I think I’m going with White Tomato

Longan Cake would be fine I’d say, and maybe they can open dimensional portals?

Again I say, she doesn’t need to be cacao/chocolate based. I think at this point I should just say “I don’t want her to be chocolate based”

I think I’ll make Ginger Fox Ginger Kumiho, since that’s still what she is (or perhaps she’s turned regular Cookie, since I think that’s a thing kumihos do when they find true love). Toasted Marshmallow might work, or just marshmallow ice cream, it’s just that I want this one to have blue hair. Which I suppose I can do regardless

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: Crazy X-Cops (and Watching the Tragic Ep. Later)

Inspired by @scullys-scalpel 's post (found here.)

Loose chronological order below~

@scullywolf's (Ao3, Masterlist)

X-COPS

""That’s correct, yes. And Agent Mulder… well, his working hypothesis for the case is, as you might guess, paranormal in nature, and–”

“Yes, Scully, I’ve met him.""

When Scully calls him up, Skinner debates the wisdom of-- oh, hang it all, put 'em on tv.

First Person Shooter

""They’re at LAX waiting for their flight home when his phone rings.

"Mulder.”

“Mulder! It’s Langly. How soon can you get to L.A.?”

“Uhh…” He looks around the bustling airport terminal, half-wondering if the guys are here somewhere and this is some sort of joke. “Why do you ask?""

Post X-Cops Mulder and Scully are still in the Cali area when he receives a call from The Lone Gunmen.

@seek-its-opposite​ (Ao3) nothing to hide (Ao3)

""Sergeant,” the man offers gently. “I think you have us all wrong.” He has all the ease of a hostage negotiator but none of the slickness. Despite how much he looks the part of a detective, he cuts an almost iconoclastic figure when he speaks.

“Your irresponsible theories nearly got my officer killed, Agent Mulder.” The sergeant gestures at the crack house, the door splintered on the floor. “To say nothing of how my department looks on camera for taking you seriously.”

“But you did take him seriously.” Agent Scully’s voice sharpens to a stiletto point. Her partner absorbs chaos; she refracts it.""

Post X-Cops Scully is infuriated the local cops blame Mulder for the night's failure, and reams them out in the honor of the man she loves.

@cecilysass/cecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's

We’re Not Here To Get Involved in Personal Problems

""Scully,” Mulder interrupts himself suddenly. “Mangoes.”

She tracks the direction of his eyes, seeking the source of this nonsequitur. A half block ahead of where they are walking, a man and his teenage son work together to lift wooden flats of pale green mangoes from the back of a pick-up truck to a sales cart in their front yard.

Mulder turns to her, his eyes now taking on a manic, child-glimpses-ice-cream-truck gleam.""

Post X-Cops Mulder is in an unflappably good mood despite their empty gas tank; and Scully is-- reluctantly-- swept up in it. A leisurely walk, a mango barter, and a back-and-forth conversation ensues.

@agirlcallednarelle/TabithaJean's Good Morning, Sweet Dreams

""Mmmh,’ she mumbles, straightening up. ‘I’m awake, I’m awake.’

‘Looks like it,’ he smiles. ‘Didn’t you want to shower? Get those sheets all good and fake slept in?’

‘Yep,’ she murmurs, her eyes closed still. ‘I’m gonna do that. I’m getting up. Right now.’

‘You don’t have to, Scully,’ he tells her softly. ‘You don’t have to move.""

Post X-Cops Scully is too bushed to even shower.

@i-gaze-at-scully/ i_gaze_at_scully's Bad boys, bad boys

""Humor me, G-woman.” His voice is as sleepy as he is, with the same bite of electricity that’s keeping him awake. She sighs into the receiver and somehow hears the smug grin that spreads across his face as he resettles himself on his couch. That, she can actually hear: the rustle of fabric, the little crunch as the worn leather gives and the springs complain. She smiles in spite of herself, and decides, in fact, to humor him. 

“The very beginning?”

"Spare no detail,” he implores, and she remembers the panic of their briefing with Skinner after Chaney, years ago."" 

Post X-Cops Scully recaps their night over the phone to Mulder, who drops off (or at least snores) when she winds up to her list of grievances. (Her "unbelievable" floats around my head continually.)

@minuete-blog/Minuete's Out-Of-Scope Assignment - Chapter 8

""The two sat in their usual seats across from a scowling Skinner as they recount the COPS filming the elusive X-File and the somewhat successful bodyguard-turned-sting-operation.   He flipped through the report and underlined a few things for himself."" 

Post X-Cops Mulder wants to investigate another file but is squashed flat by Scully's "no." Instead, She invites him over for another work-night-turned-movie-night.

Girlie_girl7’s Bill Scully meets the X Cops

""Just then someone on the screen says they have a disturbance down the street. Mulder and Scully climb into their car. Scully stops the camera crew from going with them. "No, you go with someone else."

"About time Dana, you take charge.""

Post X-Cops Bill Scully, Jr., is shocked with his nightly COPS viewing; but gets swept up in the melodrama, cheering his sister on.

Sheryl Martin’s Feedback

""Thunk.

"Scully..."

Thunk.

"Scully... stop it."

Thunk.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

Thunk.

"Don't hurt the desk, then - put something under your head."

Thuddle.

"I didn't mean the case file. Besides, we did okay.""

Post X-Cops Scully is AGHAST that her family saw the episode.

ColebaltBlue/colebaltblue's Nothing to Hide

""Agent, you seriously believe we're looking for some kind of-"

"We'll, I'll show ya."

"Oh Mulder, you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Show that drawing on national television." Scully watched as Mulder unfoled the picture of wolf-man on screen. "Oh, yes, you did."

"Scully?" Mulder sounded amused, but with just a hint of hurt under it all. She bumped his shoulder with hers by way of apology. He bumped back and all was forgiven.

Post X-Cops Mulder and Scully watch the episode; and she grapples with the heartwarming (but oft frustrating) realization that Mulder cares only for her good opinion.

Erin Blair/Erin M. Blair's Halloween Evening

""Mulder nodded. "Twenty people wanted candy from the 'cool FBI agents' - that's what one of the kids said to me." He saw her give him one of her patented looks. "I don't know where he recognized us from. For all we know, he probably watched the 'Cops' episode with fifty repeated viewings.""

Post X-Cops Mulder and Scully were kept hoppin' on Halloween.

IngridGradient's Filmed on Location

""Mulder can’t help but feel smug about the fact that Scully has been reasonably attentive for the whole thing, barring a few scoffs and mutterings about how they shouldn't have let themselves be filmed. She even appeared amused a few times, basking in the (relative) innocence of their (relative) youth. And she ate the popcorn.

“Well. That was…something,” she says. “I’m still not clear on the M.O. of the creature you were proposing — precisely how it would pass the…the ‘fear’ along its chain of victims. You know what I mean, Mulder? The mechanism, the vector for transmission.”

“Always with the ‘how’ and never with the ‘wow’,” Mulder says."" 

Post Revival Mulder finds the episode and convinces Scully to watch it. Their moods sink the longer it goes on; but they're jolted out of the doldrums by their shock at a "lost scene." (As someone not into smut reading, I just skip that section~.)

AUs and Extras

@wtfmulder/@momdadimpoppunk (Ao3) TXF Fic Snippets

""Mulder pops in through the connecting door while she’s undressing, and she shakes her head before he gets any words out. “Absolutely not,” she says sternly.

“What do you think I’m here for?” He laughs, leaning up against the doorframe.""

In a collection of fic snippets, post X-Cops Scully sinks to the floor of her motel room, batting off Mulder's intentions.

stellar_dust's (Ao3) Cause and Effect (Ao3)

""He laughed. "Come on, Scully, it's a classic. How often do we get to see ourselves together, huh?"

She groaned. "Who says I want to, Mulder? That's what cameras are for. *Personal* cameras."

"... You know, Scully, you're really short," Mulder mused, like he hadn't made a point of noticing that fact at least a thousand times since they'd met.""

In a fic that spans S7's events post The Goldberg Variation, Mulder contemplates magic and trickery and chicanery.

FootlessData507′s Do You Want to Believe? - Chapter 12

""You look around to figure out what’s happened. You can’t move very far, obviously, because of that oxygen mask you are currently dependent on, but it soon becomes clear to you that something is going on in the economy section. You can hear screaming in addition to that strange sucking noise, and a whole lotta beeping and wailing, like there’s an episode of Cops playing in there.

You were in an episode of Cops once. Remember that? How did that not get brought up more?""

In a Pick-Your-Own-Adventure series of events, Scully is determined to have a beautiful flight... aliens interfere, of course; and Mulder gets right in the middle of it.

Do You Want to Believer? - Chapter 28

""Momma Mulder didn’t raise no chump! You put on your mask first, breathing in that sweet, sweet Element Eight.

            O-utstanding.

            Get it?

            Anyway, eventually you get around to helping that kid. Once you’ve done so, you look around to figure out what’s happened....

            You were in an episode of Cops once. Remember that? How did that not get brought up more?""

In that same series of events, Mulder gets a shot at a Cops shoutout.

Defnotmeyo’s (WBM, Alt. WBM) FTF- AKA The Tentative Trio (Alt.)

""The last torn up picture, the one left on top, is her first ultrasound.  One of the ones Mulder wasn’t there for.  The first one.  The first time he felt her hold his hand, kinda quite ‘that way.’

He’s not immune, to Mulder, either.  In that heap of a trash pile is a torn up L.A. newspaper, asking why the FBI was in town, and was partnering with COPS.""

S11 Skinner-- having received CSM's "biological" revelation-- tears his place apart and reflects on Mulder, the man he thinks of as his son.

@onpaperfirst's (Ao3, LJ) Snakebitten

""She went into the bathroom and he heard quiet movement, a zipper, fabric, then the squeak of pipes and water running in the tub. He wished he could fall asleep, nap in front of the TV, so he wouldn’t be waiting there expectantly when she came out, like some creep who’d just been sitting there the whole time, listening to her in there, thinking about her naked, which, well, he sometimes did, but he wasn’t now. 

He watched most of an episode of COPS before deciding she’d been in there too long. You could drown in an inch of water. Not to mention the things they’d seen come up a drainpipe.""

AU-- S5 Mulder and Scully secretly push apart as she investigates her cancer and abduction and he is forced into the long-con of recruitment leading up to The Pine Bluff Variant-- though, as per their bond, they are ultimately pulled back together.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's encephalon - Chapter 1

""She wrinkles her nose up at him from where she's collapsed in the desk chair. “I liked Los Angeles,” she says seriously. “I don't like ridiculous movies that over-exaggerate and misconceptualize our jobs. At least that COPS episode showed what we really do.”

Mulder taps his chin dramatically, pretending to be in deep thought. “I seem to remember a certain Jose Chung and his horribly inaccurate portrayal of a certain case,” he says coyly.

She makes a face at him. “At least the names were changed,” she retorts.""

AU-- Mulder and Scully work through his brain disease in S7, with Scully's science ultimately saving his life. X-Cops is mentioned briefly after the disaster of The Lazarus Bowl.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!