#the funniest part is that this isn't even a vent about the events in the recovery room

[oh-three]

Loki S2E2

Subtitle font update??

Just how long has X-5 been on the timeline??Is Brad his real name?

HEY. DON'T TOUCH MY MOBIUS.

This foot chase sequence is really cool actually.

It's nice to see Loki using his magic again. He's lost no talent at all during his time in the TVA.

And it's back to O.B.'s corner.

Loki and Mobius following O.B.'s instructions to work on the TemPad is the funniest thing. No progress whatsoever.

Casey is here to save the day.

Jacketless Mobius feels so wrong. That jacket is part of him.

Shut up, Brad.

Oh. He's trying to convince Loki to go rogue. Interesting.

"He needs therapy." HOW DO YOU BREAK THIS GUY.

Oooh, now he's trying to tempt Mobius.

AYYYYY.

Not the guy I expected to hit him, but okay. We need to let Mobius vent more- poor guy's been through a lot.

Loki recounting the events of The Avengers like it wasn't a couple weeks ago for him is hilarious.

"You've never wanted to visit your place on the timeline?" / "Look, that's the last thing I should be thinking about." He does. Deep down, he really does, even if he won't admit it 😭

Holy shit, the Loom looks really bad.

ACCESS DENIED???

Why. does that doorframe work like that. Like. I would trip. SO MUCH.

Damn, okay, Loki just locked Mobius out. Mischevious scamp.

"This isn't the kind of mischief I was talking about!" Lmao.

Oooh, someone's scared.

"You could kill me with that." / Loki: perks up "Could I?"

Brad brought this upon himself.

Oh. Mobius is one hell of an actor. Nicely done.

"We're all gonna die! Oh, hey, nice to meet you." I love O.B. so much.

THEY'RE ABOUT TO DIE AND CASEY WANTS AN AUTOGRAPH. PRIORITIES.

Sylvie really is just working at some McDonald's. She's got a life; I'm happy for her.

The musiccccc

"My break's in five minutes." I'm surprised she didn't tell him to go away.

"You slapped me in the face. I'm not gonna forget that." / "But I got you a shake!" This is why Mobius is the best character ever.

"Is this a setup?" Oh no. It totally is.

Oh, so now she's willing to help.

DOX GOT DOXXED.

YEAH, YOUR MISSION IS COMPROMISED.

Ooooh, Sylvie came back with.

Nooooooo, they weren't fast enough.

"Do you think you'll be in tomorrow, though?" "Yeah." No, something's gonna happen. She's gonna change her mind.

[bat-connoisseur]

I remember white walls. Or perhaps they were blue? The light was white, the soft white of daylight, and the sheets were white too, the sterile white of hospital linen. The ceiling was probably white, once, but had yellowed in that way plasterboard ceilngs had a tendancy too. I never saw the floor. In all honesty, I never even saw the walls, or even the room, I just have a vauge impression of white-or-blue walls, and a memory of natural light on a yellowing ceiling. To this day I'm not even sure if I saw the sheets. Maybe they were blue.

The whole memory is hazy. There are lots of things I know, even if I don't strictly remember them. I know I was pale, my face swollen, eyes puffy. I had been laying on my front, after all. I know that this time, all the lines came out without issue. The first time I was in that room, one particular cannula came out and just didn't want to stop bleeding. I don't remember how long they applied pressure, or how long it took for someone to dash and find a pressure dressing. I don't remember how it healed, or when the dressing came off, even though those came later. I don't remember the first time all that much at all. I do remember the scar it left, a little white pinprick on already white skin, sitting just above a faint blue line on my wrist.

But this isn't about that.

I know the second time I was in that room, I talked. I couldn't tell you what about. Perhaps they were just trying to gauge my awareness, see how I was coming around. I know one of the nurses gave me a chocolate coin, for later. I couldn't have kept it down at the time, and I don't remember why she gave it to me.

Of course, these half-memories of light and colours and people are peripherary to the memories attached to the overwhelming fear I was feeling at the time. Its the same fear, accross both memories, although the first time, perhaps, it was worse. I hadn't considered it before now, but I would imagine having a little hole in an artery bleeding blood that doesn't want to clot would make everything feel worse.

The fear was simple, creeping and terrifying in its certainty. You see, coming around from general anaestetic has a couple of side effects, one of which being that you drift off to sleep very, very easily. It makes sense, right? Unfortunatley- and I don't know if this was the painkillers or what, but every time I began to drift off to sleep, my breathing would become shallow, and... something would begin to drop. You see, another thing I remember are monitors, beeping, making sure I'm alright. And every lapse in conciousness was accompanied by concerned beeping. A long tone to indicate that something was amiss. I may have been groggy and confused, but I knew what it meant.

And it was terrifying. I thought I was going to die. The simple fear of death every time i started to feel myself drift off. I fought to keep myself awake desipte there being very little to do about it with the intensity of someone fighting to keep themselves alive, because I thought I was. In my mind, to sleep was to die.

Honestly, i think fear is too weak of a word. Terror feels more fitting. It was terror. I remember it as clear as day, that feeling. I had been fourteen for no longer than two weeks, and I was convinced I was going to die. I had less than 6 months before my 18th birthday, and I was sure I was going to die, some fearful, unconcious death, in a room I can't describe surrounded by people I didn't know. My face swollen, and a neat line of stitches all the way down my back.

There is a difference, I think, in dying suddenly and simply slipping away. One implies some kind of accident, some freak event, and one sounds soft and gentle, death like a warm bath, rather than the ocean at the bottom of cliffs.

But I think, given the choice, I would choose the cliffs. There is little more terrifying than feeling yourself simply just.... dissapating, like a drop of blood in a stream. Clinging, barely concious, to the sides of the slide on a ride you didn't even want to embark, dehyrated, in pain.

The memories are unpleasent. I think about them, sometimes, but I don't know why. A soft haze with something sharp within. All I associate with the recovery room are terror and the gentle, white light through windows I never even saw, that I don't know even existed.

Was it sunlight? Or was I just hoping I wouldn't die under artificial fluorecence?