It’s his social media manager who sends Noa the video.

And typically that’s a bad sign, but this is through text—not an email with a subject line beginning with “URGENT”—and accompanied by a crying laughter emoji (he thinks, absentmindedly, of how he’d used that once in a text to you and you’d fallen off the couch in your tears of mirth) so he figures it must not be so bad.

The tiktok has views up in the eight digit range. It’s slow to load; Noa silently curses the existence of hotel wifi and opens the comments in the hopes of garnering some clue about the video’s content before it plays.

The first one is no fucking way. The second is NOEL NOA????? UR KIDDING.

The third is nothing but a string of the same emoji; a graphed line trending upwards. It has over seventy thousand likes.

Your voice speaks suddenly. Noa closes the comments, surprised to find that he recognizes the location of the video. It’s the living room of your best friend’s penthouse, four of your other closest friends lounging around with you. It’s clear that you’ve all been drinking wine, the flushed faces and hooded eyes all the necessary evidence (though the half-full glasses scattered about the room and held in hands would do well enough).

You sit against the side of the couch, legs thrown over a friend’s lap. The video has started halfway through a sentence.

“—just don’t understand it,” you’re saying, voice louder and energetic than he’s used to though it’s the only indicator of inebriation he can detect. “Like, no—no, I’m serious! He’s hot and all, y’know, that body, and like”—you wave your hand, mildly clumsy—“one of the greatest football players alive and all that. But they just don’t know how dorky my lame-ass nerd of a boyfriend is.”

Noa jolts up. He watches how all your friends giggle, how you take a sip of the wine in your hand and laugh yourself when a friend reaches over to smack your shoulder playfully. Something coils in the pit of his stomach.

Behind the camera, your best friend calls out, “Don’t be mean!”

“Oh, no, I’m not being mean. My boyfriend is so lame and nerdy and made a spreadsheet to ask me out and keeps another one of all our dates and it’s so fucking cute. He wears those hot old man glasses and he sits in front of his laptop to strategize about taking me to the beach. He might honestly have a spreadsheet for our wedding.” You pause, eyes glazing over, words slurring just slightly for the first time as you seem to lose your bearing. “If he does I might just sit on his face.”

There’s an immediate uproar. The camera shakes and then tumbles to the ground as your best friend doubles over with laughter. Over the din of glee and jokingly jeering remarks, you shout, “IT’S HOT! SPREADSHEETS ARE HOT! DON’T LIE IT’S CUTE—“

The phone shifts again and the video loops. Noa lays over the covers of the hotel room bed, staring at the repeating image of you and your words. He hears you mention him again—“my lame-ass nerd of a boyfriend”—and that low simmer burns hotter as his eyes are drawn to the sight of your bare legs, the way your hand curls around the bowl of your wine glass.

Lame-ass nerd of a boyfriend. Your lips are plush as you speak the words, quirked in a soft little smile that laces your tone with affection and crinkles the corners of your eyes.

His hand slips beneath the waistband of his sweats.

I tried so hard not to be parasocial about it but this letter thing is fucking me up, man. I've written a few overly flattering letters to evil government officials before myself. but how did someone convince all these reasonable-seeming people (strangers that I do not know) to publicly sign this centrist-ass letter? I understand they probably got Taika Waititi and Jack Black with the everyone can share, peace and love on the planet earth wording, but Jordan Peele? what. how did that happen. it makes no sense to me.

Ok I'm gonna front load my position on the Israel-Palestine conflict before I answer this ask so that no one can accuse me of shit I didn't say. If you want to see what I have to say on the letter itself, scroll to the big font. I'm as anti-zionist as they come I don't think that governments should even exist at all, I consider Israel to be an illegitimate state the same way I consider the country I live in (USA) to be an illegitimate state. I think that if we're going to have countries at all, which we shouldn't, that country should be Palestine and individual Jewish people certainly should be welcome to move there for whatever reason they want, including religious, but that the people who already lived there shouldn't be displaced because of it. And if they wanted me to support Israel on the basis of Jewish people needing somewhere to go after the Holocaust, they should have put Israel in Europe in 1945 instead of in the Arabian Peninsula in 1918. I tend to think the hard core zionists who aren't Jewish are trying to deport diaspora Jewish people somewhere based on the way I have heard other goyim speak about Israel. I am sympathetic to Jewish people who believe this has nuance but ultimately I cannot condone the displacement of Palestinians. That position might lose me followers but really I don't care.

Now that I have gotten that out of the way

(This first paragraph is for everyone who's out of the loop and has only seen the Tumblr posts about this issue, Anon does seem to know what I'm about to say) I do also think this whole thing with the letter is being blown out of proportion a little bit? That's not to say it's a good letter, it does contain language which blames Hamas for the conflict which is the western propaganda line so that countries like the United States and Britain don't have to admit that they caused and are funding this whole operation because they hate brown people. However celebrities are rubes who fall for government propaganda all the fucking time. What the letter itself actually calls for is Biden to facilitate the release of Israeli hostages. I consider this letter to be the vaguely Zionist equivalent of that time all those celebrities got on zoom and sang imagine because COVID was happening. I certainly doubt that the man who produced Get Out and Us supports the genocide and I also question whether the man who directed Reservation Dogs does either. Most likely they were asked "will you sign a letter calling for the release of Israeli hostages?" And they said "well releasing hostages sounds nice."

(this paragraph is for anon) Despite the fact that I think "these 70 celebrities condone Palestinian genocide" is incredibly reductive I would encourage you to see these people as human beings, and more specifically idiot millionaires who are out of touch. I believe that Taika Waititi understands the Maori struggle and generally tries to be a nice liberal but ultimately he is a man who grew up in the 80s with a lot of money who has an interest in keeping that money. His gaff transphobia tweets (which I didn't think were that bad considering he made it in 2013 and wasn't even talking about trans women, but they were still transphobic) and his pearl clutching during the BLM riots made this abundantly clear (both of these incidents are Taika Twitter originals that people have sent me trying to get me to hate him and I saw both of them and was like "that's what I thought you'd say old man"), and the fact that he married Rita "blackfish" Ora. I'm way less plugged in to what Jordan Peele is doing because I've never had an anon send me his call out post but I'm going to assume that the same thing is true of him: he understands the struggle of black people in the United States, despite this moment of basedness I probably politically disagree with him on many many counts. As for Jack Black he donates to autism speaks so he's coming for me and the Palestinians. Although that said so does Gaga and I'm still very much a fan of her.

I've basically had to come to terms with the fact that no celeb that I like the work of agrees with me about politics because all of them are rich and I am a communist. That's not going to stop me from liking their work, it's not going to stop me from bothering some of them at cons when I get the chance. Because again they're just guys. And most guys are idiots. I am an idiot about a lot of things. We don't expect Taika Waititi or Jordan Peele to know about every conflict in the world we expect them to make entertaining and perhaps insightful movies. I am not here because I think Taika agrees with me on all things. I am here because I want to watch a rom com about gay men who murder people, one of whom is just like me for real.

Anyway do your research

Hiiiiiiiii this is KM (hellfirehottie420) here with argyle ideas again. I need this man carnally.

What about like argyle has to go back to cali for a bit and then cute reunion fluff and smut after 👀 you can take it in whatever direction you want I trust you with my life

You: cute reunion fluff and smut Me: Breeding kink? Say less.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), breeding kink, body insecurities, mention of conflict

WC: 1.5k

--

The click of the key turning in the doorknob to your apartment grabs your attention from your spot on the sofa. You turn off the TV and walk to where your husband is standing as he drops his duffel bag to the ground with a thud. You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you press a gentle kiss to his plush lips. 

“Hi.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, thoughts of the argument you’d had right before he’d left clouding your memory. 

“Hey, baby,” Argyle murmurs, kissing your forehead as you rest your head against his chest. You can hear the sound of his heart beating, steadying the longer he holds you. 

“I’m sorry.” The two of you say it at the same time, and your forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who messed up.”

Argyle shakes his head, tousling his long hair. “Nah, man. I should’ve just backed off. If you don’t want kids any more, I understand.” He fidgets with the watch on his wrist, eyes trained on the ground. 

Your heart pangs at the sadness in his voice. “‘S not that,” you mumble. Before he’d gone to visit his family back in Lenora, he’d made a joke about them asking for a gaggle of mini-Argyles running around, to which you’d snarkily replied, “never happening.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just…” you swallow your nerves before you proceed, “I’m really fucking scared.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused. “Scared of what? Giving birth? Because they’d load you up with some good shit. Even better than Purple Palm Tree Delight.” His tone is light and jokey, but you can still hear the concern lining it. 

“Scared of my body changing during pregnancy. That you won’t like the way I look. That when the baby does get here, I won’t be a good mom. A mom they deserve.” Your voice catches on the last word, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying. 

Argyle’s strong hands wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Hey, hey, listen to me,” he says. “You’re gorgeous now; seriously, I’m the luckiest fuckin’ dude in the world. But if you’re worried about me thinking any differently when you’re pregnant…” he offers a soft laugh, “that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I can’t wait to see you pregnant with my baby. You’re gonna have the cutest bump—”

“But it’s not just that,” you proteet. “My hips will spread and they won’t go back, and I’ll get stretchmarks—”

He silences you with a kiss to your lips, hands on your cheeks. “And I will worship every last inch of your body.” He lets his arms drop so he can lace his fingers with yours. “And it’s almost funny to me that you think you won’t be a good mom.”

“Funny?”

“Funny,” Argyle affirms, nudging his nose against yours. “Because I see the way you are with the Byers kids, and how kind and sweet and patient you are with them. And all I can think is, ‘damn, she’s gonna be the best mom to our little babies.’”

A smile tugs at your lips despite your nerves. “Really?”

“Hell yeah,” he laughs. “Amor, I want to build a family with you. I want to celebrate parenting wins with you. I want to make mistakes—and fix ‘em, of course—with you. Because I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say softly, wrapping a strand of his hair around your finger and using it to pull him towards you for another kiss. “And I’ve been thinking about it while you were in Cali, and…I think I wanna try. For a baby.”

His eyes light up, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “You want to have a baby? You want to have my baby?”

“Yes, Argyle.” You hook your pointer fingers through his belt loops. “I want to have your baby. I want to grow our little baby right…” you take his palm and press it against your stomach, “…here.”

His lips crash onto yours, making you stumble backwards into the bedroom. The two of you are shedding your clothes as you walk, practically fully naked when you reach the bed. All that’s left is his tented boxers and your favorite panties, the ones with the little rosebud on the front. 

“Lay back f’me,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you just nod, settling in amongst the pillows as he places your legs on his shoulders. He nudges his nose against the cotton fabric covering your sex, flattening his tongue as he licks an upwards stripe. “Missed this.” His fingers tug your panties down, and he tosses them aside. “My girl…wants to have my baby. Gonna make this perfect f’you, amor.”

Argyle tenderly kisses your inner thighs, trailing his lips upwards until he reaches your clit. He sucks on it lightly, drawing a moan from your lips. You can feel him smile against you, sliding a finger into your pussy while continuing to swirl his tongue around your most sensitive spot. A second finger begins to stretch you, and once he feels your body adjusting, he pumps his fingers faster. 

“So wet,” he muses; the vibration of his voice has you clenching your thighs around his head. “Can’t believe you got this turned on thinking about me knocking you up.”

“Mhm,” you manage, tension building in your core as he brings you closer to your orgasm. “I want you to get me pregnant, please, baby.” You cry out a final time as you cum on his face and fingers. Your breasts heave with each breath you take as you float down from the high. 

As soon as you’re back to reality, you’re sliding his boxers down his meaty thighs, watching in awe as his thick cock springs out from under the waistband. He rubs it against your wet folds, while he looks into your eyes. “Ready f’me, amor? Ready f’me to give you a baby?”

“S-So fucking ready,” you choke out, inhaling as he pushes into you. Without any barriers between his cock and your walls, you can feel every part of him. The ridge sensation where the tip meets the shaft has you whimpering with each thrust. “Argyle, fuck, that feels amazing.”

He nods in agreement, loose hair tickling your chest. He bucks his hips in long, slow motions, biting his lower lip as he stares at your body in total awe. “I can’t wait to see how beautiful you’re gonna look,” he grins. “Bet you’re gonna fuckin’ glow. Not gonna be able to keep my hands offa you.”

“So…same as usual?” you tease, but he’s too locked in to catch your sarcasm. 

“Nah, ‘s gonna be better,” he insists, gripping your sides and speeding up his pace. “Because you’re gonna be growing our baby. And everyone’s gonna know that we fuckin’ belong to each other.”

The raspy growl in his tone has you wrapping your legs around his thighs to pull him in even closer, and he grins when he realizes the effect he has on you. 

“Y’like this? Y’like feeling every last inch of me?”

“I like it,” you repeat. “I-I mean, I love it. Want to make a baby with you.” You whine as he nips at your earlobe. “Show me who I belong to.”

“Me, me, you fuckin’ belong to me,” Argyle grunts as you tighten around his unsheathed cock. “Amor, you’re s’perfect, wanting to—fuck—have my baby. Gonna knock you up so good. Fuck—shit—holy fuckin’ shit—oh, fuck yes, baby—‘m gonna cum.”

With that, Argyle spills into you, filling you up with every last drop of his load. You finish as he does, crying out his name while he moans yours. He stays inside you for a few moments after you’ve both came, withdrawing only when you murmur something about cuddling together. 

“Took me so nice, amor,” he whispers in your ear, bringing one arm around your waist and holding one bare breast. “You always feel good, but tonight was somethin’ else.”

You let out a tiny giggle. “You’re just saying that because you didn’t need to wear a condom.”

Argyle shakes his head and lightly kisses your shoulder blade. “I think it’s because we made a baby.” He’s serious, and you turn around to face him. 

“We don’t know for sure if I’m pregnant. I might not even be ovulating, so…don’t get your hopes up about this month. It takes time.”

“Well, I’m hopeful.” He lets the side of his forefinger graze your cheek, and he smiles. “I’ll make you a mommy, and you’ll make me a daddy, okay?”

You clench your thighs again at his words. “Gonna get me going again, Args,” you mutter, “and I wanna keep everything inside.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Ay, mi princesa,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna keep you so full of me, you’ll be barefoot and pregnant in no time.”

--

Weak Spot - Chapter 3

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

You were not going to let him get away with dropping what could almost be a relative confession like that. At least, not until after work when you had the time to harass him about it.

You: So…

Rolling over from where you had collapsed on your couch you watched as predictably the message was read and no response came. You’d resigned yourself to a fight earlier in the day after deciding to press the issue, but a part of you could always dream.

You: Are we going to talk about how you ran away?

You chewed your bottom lip as the little read check mark appeared. You tried to picture what he was up to. Glancing to the nearby windows, you spied the last vestiges of twilight waning orange. When your attention returned to your device you saw the response bubbles percolating.

He must have written and deleted several versions because the one he landed on seemed far too short for the amount of time it took.

Donatello: Laughable.

You giggled to yourself. Not that you’d been able to indulge in it, but texting removed the usual bearings in an interesting way. Where in real life you had to hope you caught his micro expressions, his texts would be stuck on display for longer analysis.

You: I’m glad we agree!

You: Though I’m laughing at how cute it was that you got embarrassed

Again the check came and this time the bubbles appeared instantly. The pot was essentially stewing.

Moving to sit up, you wondered how he’d handle the stripped down context. He was obviously drafting something, but he must have realized the same as you that this type of conversation was far easier to abandon. Frowning and worrying that you might have pushed a little too hard, your stomach clenched as a reply came.

Donatello: I see what you’re doing.

You: Oh? I don’t consider this breaking the ‘no frivolous’ texts rule because it’s important to me

He saw it and you curled up into yourself. You’d spent most of the public transit ride home thinking of all the little contingencies he might use to get out of a conversation. Obliviously you had no real remedy if he chose not to respond, but you’d tried to prepare for anything else he could lob your way.

Donatello: For the time being you may exploit the loop hole, but only due to my lack of oversight.

“Just admit you like me.”

You gave a breathy sigh and pulled your device to your chest. A shred of you still wondered, but for the most part you were sure he was interested in some way. His staunch nature prevented absolutes and there was always a chance you were conning yourself, but even the fact that he was indulging these messages seemed to point in your preferred direction. Where that road ultimately lead you hadn’t given much thought, but the fizzy soda excitement was a high you were happy to chase.

You: Should I expect a contract at tomorrow’s lunch?

Donatello: Be prepared to sign in triplicate.

You blew you a puff of air into a smile. With him a line like that could both be a joke and deadly serious. You imagined him pulling out a briefcase and removing large daunting stacks of paper. He’d make for the world’s most annoying lawyer.

You: I’ll bring my embossed pen

You: Back to the original topic though…

Donatello: I’d rather discuss the pen.

You: I’ll share all the juicy details after

You: Spoiler alert: the engraving isn’t what you’d think!

Donatello: In other words, not your name.

You: Elevator explanation first

With your phone balancing on your knee you watched as he again hitched the conversation between intermediary dotted lines. You wondered if this kind of loading screen would be a good real world comparison for the time it took to him formulate verbal conversation. Staring fondly at the screen you dismissed it only because surely that mind of his cycled through so many more possibilities than you could fathom which meant a loading screen as a pathetic comparison.

Donatello: What exactly are you hoping for?

Wasn’t that the million dollar question.

You had a strong sense of the matter at hand and had even voiced your desires aloud just a few moments ago, but there was an undeniable unknown quality to the whole thing.

It had only been two days.

The time frame deflated your otherwise impenetrable smile.

That’s what was holding you up. Unfurling, your phone lowered with your legs and you watched it lull to sleep. The crush exhilaration had shrouded your mind in tittering hormones that made for a high chasing addiction. As much as you wanted to know everything about him, in reality there was no rush. Something so simple seemed like a sobering revelation.

Glancing over your shoulder at the kitchen, you wondered how he’d handle it if you passed on a slapdash response in favor of eating. Meals were quite high on the list of mind clearing activities and would give you a chance to compose something that wasn’t based on pure instinct.

Setting your phone on the arm rest, you stood and moved to the fridge. Taking your time would also shift the tone of the conversation. Grabbing the handle to the ice box, you opened it so its cold air washed over you in time with your second epiphany of the evening.

You didn’t want this to end after two more sandwiches.

Exchanging the freezer door for the fridge proper, you pulled out some leftovers. As odd as he seemed, you craved more. Trying to part the giddy fog in your mind, you set up a mental pros and cons list as you warmed your food. On one hand there had been a few undeniable red flag actions, he was exhaustively closed off, you knew next to nothing what he did outside of getting lunch, and he held vice grips on conversations in a dauntingly manipulative manner.

With a poke you checked if your food was warm enough. The lukewarm response said no, so you popped the dish back into the microwave and the newly sauced digit into your mouth.

Other the other hand he was handsome, mysterious, he’d exhibited multiple times that he was capable of concern or remorse, his vigilante watch translated as attentive, and he’d even been protective over a perceived threat.

Your microwave reminded you it was done and you retrieved the food. The plate stung your finger tips and you set it on the counter to watch the steam roll off.

If you thought about either list for too long, you noticed how each tick skewed the line. For his protection, he’d also taken a worrying satisfaction in scaring another human being. Where he refused to talk about himself cropped up the alluring unknowns. His staunch control issues were what lead to him needing to make amends in the first place.

You leaned over to pop a drawer open to grab cutlery. Once outfitted, you pinched the cooler edges of your plate and transported your dinner to the same spot on the couch. Collapsing into its relenting cushions, your phone lit up and read no new notifications. You flipped it over with one hand and then sought the remote. Whatever app the TV was last on buzzed to life and you let it run with listless curiosity as you took your first bite.

All of this back and forth was nothing unheard of though. Though the serial killer conversation had been partially a joke, there was an undeniable game that had to be played whenever you tried to puzzle a new person into your life. No two people were perfectly made for the jigsaw, but time snapped the piece together regardless as long as they were a close enough match.

A few more bites and your stomach was already feeling warm.

Maybe the puzzle metaphor wasn’t the best.

A personality buzzed about something on the television and you found it caught your attention. Between the video and hearty chews, you felt your resolve stabilize. By the time your plate was clean you’d even found that a tapestry was a much better analogy and even had ancient roots in the fates. Setting your plate aside of a coffee table, you snatched up your phone.

You: I guess you could say your little stunt made me wonder if we should reexamine our current contract

Donatello: Which terms do you not find agreeable?

You tilted your head as you read the question several times over.

You: The length

Though it was by your hand, you found it frustrating that you’d accidentally put yourself into another veiled conversation.

Donatello: Elaborate.

A little surprised hum escaped your throat.

It was almost as if he’d thought the exact same thing.

You certainly weren’t going to waste a chance to make the conversation definite.

You: I’ll just say it then

You: If I’m wrong though, don’t rub it in. I’ll be torturing myself enough

You watched his response stew and quickly typed out a few nonsense letters so your own to signal him that you weren’t done. It took a moment, but his disappeared and you cleared the text to start anew.

You: I think you’re interested in me too, but there’s been mixed signals

Your heart was beating so fast your blood pressure waned in your ears.

You: It was that look you gave me

You watched the quiver in your thumbs as you typed.

You: Would you want to keep seeing each other after you move on to the next sandwich quadrant?

You gave a shaky smile at the ridiculous terms this whole thing was perched upon.

You watched as a read receipt appeared and you tapped the cursor off the text bar to signal the end of your clarification. Your chest felt heavy and you brought one hand up to press your sternum in a pathetic attempt to release the pressure.

Not even his typing notification appeared.

Nerves already frayed, your mind went into overdrive.

Reading back over your texts you winced at the one about not rubbing it in.

Had that not been clear enough?

Mind split right down the middle, your thumbs flew back to your keyboard. For each satisfactory letter that was typed out an equal part of your brain screamed at you for doing so.

It was so much easier to blurt these things out in real time.

You: The nature of which doesn’t have to be specified. Just,

You cursed aloud as when you moved to edit the comma placement, you’d sent the unfinished text.

Staring at it harshly, the fight or flight warped leaving you unsure of what you’d wanted to clarify at all. Coming down, it took over a minute for you to realize the check mark hadn’t appeared. You lowered your screen instinctually. He wasn’t actively in the chat anymore. Putting your device to sleep, you leaned over and set it next to your plate. It wasn’t that strange as you’d left him in a similar manner when you’d made your dinner. Still, you could feel your blood moving through your veins so you desperately palmed the remote for a suitable distraction. You forced yourself to sit through a 27 minute video before you allowed yourself to pick up your device.

You nearly dove for it as the personality on TV recommended something else.

Suddenly in a surprise juggle with your device, the blurry notification disappeared as you mistakenly clicked it. You watched the screen temporarily black out before coming fully to life in the text window.

Donatello: I should have expected two days wouldn’t be enough time to improve one’s taste.

Half on and half off the couch from the phone debacle, you squinted at the message.

It somehow feel perfectly in line with what you expected while being nothing at all what you anticipated.

It was also fascinating how he seemed to take something that should be self-depreciating and make it seem like an insult to the other party.

That party being you, of course.

You: I’ll have you know I gave it a lot of thought. I made a pros and cons list and everything

Donatello: Your data collection capability is abysmal. Have you even considered your sample size or standard deviation? 

You: Nope. Want to teach me?

That was truly terrible.

You laughed to yourself.

The way his response bubble appeared and popped multiples times either meant that line had miraculously worked or he was also seized with the comedy of it all.

There were surely more options than that, but you preferred to consider only those two.

Donatello: Ever presumptuous, tenuous, and ludicrous.

You stared as an even bigger smile spread on your face.

You typed out your next text.

With a thumb hovering over the send button you considered how badly this next statement could go.

You had a feeling it wasn’t in your favor, but there was just something about the three adjectives that he had sent.

You gave a single chuckle and slammed your screen with an audible tap.

You: Funny, I believe it was you who gave me your number of your own accord

He left you on read.

-

You didn’t necessarily regret your choice.

However, you didn’t really love it either.

As lunch loomed eerily close, you checked your bag from under your desk for what must have been the hundredth time. Every time your heart surged not with tempered hope, but fear that your boss would catch wind. The last thing you needed was that guy adding anymore undue stress. That aside, there was still the unmistakable possibility that you had messed up your chance. It definitely stung, but it also wouldn’t be the end of days.

You had only known him two days.

Giving a little sigh, you tucked your bag back into its slot. Deciding you might as well get some semblance of work done, you brought up several useful screens and moved to tack the time away on your keyboard. You’d gotten into a groove when you heard two employees pass with lunch curiosities on their lips. Checking the time said you could slip away with minimal complaint and, even though your plans were still up in the air when you’d left this morning, you’d still kept your docket open just in case. With a final glance to make sure all work was in order, you swiveled in your chair. Catching your bag in the motion, you got to your feet and headed for the elevator.

Pulling your phone out was almost an afterthought as you debated what to get.

At least, that’s what you told yourself when you saw the notification preview faultily clip an image.

You scarcely heard the elevator arrive and stepped back so no one would hold it for you. Against the opposite wall, you opened the message and stared at it curiously.

Donatello had simply sent a screenshot receipt of a sandwich purchase. Clicking it larger, it read the ever present specifications he’d deemed standard. It also had a sum of two sandwiches so he was presumably going to be in attendance. The payment information had been specifically cropped out, but the header for the shop read its address. Tempering your excitement, you flipped back and forth to type it out in your map app. It was predictably nearby so you stepped forward to push the elevator button.

The trek down and lunchtime rushed streets swept you to the location with little time to overthink. You spied his hulking black coated form through the window and slipped through the door with a pleasant chime announcing your entry. You glanced up at the little bell before heading over to Donatello.

His shoulders held staunch as he passed you only a glance before continuing to stare at the pick-up counter. For a moment you let him continue his oddly petty act before rolling on the balls of your feet and prodding your inner cheek with your tongue.

He hadn’t outright rejected you, but something was definitely off.

The overwhelming desire to poke the bear superseded concern.

If you were already in hot water, might as well take a bath.

“You really streamlined the process of asking someone out.”

Already staring at him, you caught the flicker of recognition in his eye before his pupil nearly rolled. When his gaze landed on you, he seemed to note that you had seen the move and flattened out his expression.

“My other line was something about how it’s presumptuous to just buy someone lunch without asking.”

“You’re overanalyzing.”

You rose up on the tips of your toes to get his full attention. He parted it as you entered his personal space and you did your best impression of his patented look.

His jaw flexed as if he grit his teeth though no pearly whites shined through.

“We’ll discuss it while we eat.”

You gave a curious hum that was cut off when an employee set a sack on the counter. Donatello was in motion before the employee could depart and strung a finger through the bag’s handle. He then followed through by turning to the dining room and going straight to a table. You watched his departing form for a moment and couldn’t help but imagine how he must have thought all this through while he was waiting.

How much earlier than his pick-up time had he arrived?

You followed him languidly and made a show of taking a seat. He slid your sandwich across the table and tucked your bag away beside your chair. When you surfaced you found him sitting still with his untouched sandwich wrapped in front of him.

“Should I be worried?”

The question processed in his gaze and seemed to awaken his limbs.

“That depends.”

Though he made it a statement, the end felt clipped away.

You wondered what else he meant to say as he robotically went through the motions of undoing the wrapping and folding it back. You left him to his routine and instead separated the halves of your sandwich to eat one with the parchment peeled back. You had just gotten down your first bite when you caught him picking up his meal without his usual measured grab.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what you’re requesting.” 

Pausing, you turned the sentence over before taking another bite. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

His head lolled slightly with dissatisfaction. Though his face didn’t betray it, you could feel the a dissatisfied aura coming off of him. “The weight doesn’t lie in the fraternization.”

You squinted at him.

He brought his sandwich up and narrowed his gaze at it.

“Is this… related to that taste thing?”

“Yes.” He punctured the single syllable with a sharp bite of his sandwich.

You watched openly as one of his lids twitched. He gave an odd side to side chew of the morsel before lowering the sandwich back to the paper. He seemed to struggle to get it down and his dark mood further clouded.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s me I don’t think you understand.” He grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth and pushed his meal a few centimeters away from his person.

“That’s sort of the point.”

“Y/N.”

You broke away from staring at him to look at his sandwich.

“Even if we could set aside what is rapidly becoming willful ignorance, you don’t seem to have considered the fact that I’m a mutant and you’re human.”

“So?” Your own meal came down with your brow.

“Which is exactly why I still have reservations about your motives.”

“I’ve never been with a mutant before. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve even talked to one before you.” Flicking eyes between your lunch and his, you made quick work of unwrapping your bitten half.  

You could feel his gaze intensify, so your brought yours up in an open show of your honesty. His pupils darted around taking in an unknown amount of information before he looked away towards a window.

With his attention parted, you reached across the table and snagged the corner of his parchment. As soon as you started sliding it towards you, he caught the motion and returned his gaze. He didn’t stop you, so you brought both meals next to each other and started to reach for his. Seeing your hand’s descent triggered something in your mind and you halted. As you twisted to grab your bag, you saw Donatello go for something in his pocket. When you both returned to the table you stared at each other and your travel sized bottles of hand sanitizer.

You immediately laughed in spite of the tense air.

He gave the barest huff and returned his own bottle to his person.

“Great minds.” You mumbled, trying to taper off your giggles as your disinfected your hands.

If he responded, you couldn’t hear it as you finally reached for his sandwich. Peeling back the bread on the half he’d bitten, you grimaced at what lie underneath. His lettuce was a pathetically wilted smear against his oily tomato. Peeking out from underneath that was an alarmingly pale piece of bacon. You picked at the tongue that slumped off the side of the sandwich and found it to be just as floppy as it looked.

“We ordered the same thing.” You remarked before quickly moving to uncap your sandwich. Yours, in comparison, looked like a meal that was ready for its menu shoot. “Are both sides like that?”

He again didn’t seem to respond, so you moved to remove the bread from the rest of his meal. The other half continued the same trend. You sat back in your seat and considered the dichotomy. Confused, you finally swept your gaze to your companion.

Across from you, Donatello’s irritation continued to waft off of him, but he was directing it into his person. It was all such a strange show that it left you unnerved. It reminded you of the day prior when the mystery of the supposedly unknown sandwich shop loomed overhead.

You blinked.

Straightening up, you spun around in your chair. The speed of the move meant you just caught the way the whispering employees departed from each other behind the counter. Your eyes widened to a degree that nearly stung. You spun back around to find Donatello staring at you with a dark knowing expression.

That’s why he had brought up human/mutant relations.

“They gave you a gross sandwich on purpose.”

He gave a curt nod.

“But…” You leaned into the table, but in doing so it brought your face closer to said offense. You sloppily reconstructed it before messily squishing the parchment down to hide it away. “How would they know you’d take the intended one?”

The way Donatello stared evenly back made several things clear.

He had in fact arrived to the shop early.

He’d seen and let them make him a subpar meal.

He then accepted it in a way that ensured he’d get the gross one and not you.

The deep frown on your lips stung your cheeks. “If… If they saw you order it, why weren’t both sandwiches gross?”

“The wait.” It seemed like a struggle for him to get the two words out evenly.

Your lips parted.

There had been a wait from when you’d arrived to when the sandwiches had been ready.

Those whispering bastards had seriously rushed to remake a sandwich as soon as they found out a human was on the order.

As the pieces of the events fell into place, confusion melted away under budding fury. “Why didn’t you say something? That doesn’t seem like-!”

You bit down to keep the presumption from coming out.

He leaned forward in a similar manner as you had done.

It brought your voice down and you spoke before he could. “Yesterday at the building, they weren’t glaring because we were there. They were mad because we were together?”

His chin tipped up the barest amount, but you couldn’t take in his appreciation for your correct guess based on its content.

“That or… that’s just how they look at you.”

“Both.” The single syllable dripped with disdain.

Considering he could barely keep a lid on his resentment, it made very little sense why he allowed this to happen. You forced yourself to swallow your own anger in mustering up a pleading eye. “I don’t understand…?”

His expression was pulled so taunt it seemed like a piano wire about to snap. “I needed to talk to you first and foremost, but trust me when I say the retribution will be swift.”

There was a manic flash to his eyes that you only barely caught before a tidal wave of emotion flooded you. Any remnant thoughts on it washed away as your heart buoyed to the surface. You could feel your eyes rapidly watering. With both of you craned over the table into one another, you knew he had a front row seat. Screwing your eyes shut, you hoped he wouldn’t see it as pity or sadness. You certainly weren’t going to celebrate and you were already forming your own just recourse, but the man in front of you had endured blatant xenophobia in silence just so not as to upset these plans.

You didn’t care.

Whatever terrible things he thought of himself.

Whatever things he might have done in the past.

Hell, for all you knew he was still doing it.

It simply didn’t matter.

You wanted him.

 More than ever.

Your eyes popped open in time with a smile on your lips.

He seemed to wince against the brightness of it.

“First things first.” You sat back and grabbed your uneaten sandwich half.

“That’s yours.”

“And?” You pushed it towards him. “You’re not eating that.” You waved off his appalling excuse of a meal.

“You’ll be stuck at work and I can get something else.” He reached out with a single digit and used it to slide the sandwich half back.

“It’s not up for discussion.” You reached out to do something similar, but he hadn’t lifted his hand. You glowered at the offending digit and moved to send that same dissatisfied look to his face.

A resolute blank stare sat there.

“Split then.”

“It’s not even.”

You groaned loudly.

He remained unmoved.

With your uneaten half ensnared, you moved to your bitten half. Searching around, you found a loose plastic knife on the table and made a cut that bisected the sandwich in a way that severed off the contaminated half for yourself. He kept a close eye as you then made a show of folding your parchment into as close of a version as how he did and set the clean segment upon it. It had some sort of effect on him because he finally relinquished his hold. Moving fast in case he changed his mind, you cut the uneaten half and the doled out the sandwich into two meals.

“Obviously this place is not a contender, but it would be annoying if you couldn’t pass proper judgment on it.”  

You felt his gaze linger as you took an annoyed bite of your bread. You chewed a little harder than necessary and when his stare continued to linger, you brought a staunch eye to him.

You expected any of a dozen things to be there.

What you didn’t expect was a softness to his features that could almost be read with affection.

You nearly choked as you swallowed prematurely.

“May I see that?” He nodded to the sandwich in your hand.

It seemed like an odd request, but you were still dumbfounded by the kindness in his eyes. You nodded numbly and held it out to him.

With his hands tucked beneath the table he leaned forward. You wondered if there was something gross in your meal that you had neglected when his mouth suddenly opened. Before you could do anything else, his hands surfaced to steady yours and he took a big bite straight of where you had taken your last one. He retreated while chewing and moved his attention downward, finally doing his pick-up calculations.

Several incoherent sounds puttered off your lips as you brought back the little left of your sandwich.

He had just made such a fuss about it being even too.

You waited numbly until he swallowed his mouthful, having a sense that he’d speak on it.

“For clarification. I’m not a germophobe, just cleanly.” 

You gaze snapped from your meal to him.

“The hand sanitizer?!”

He didn’t respond, but you were sure you saw the quirk of a smile as he got the right angle down and lifted his own meal to take a bite.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped the discussion.”

“Your far more dangerous in how unpredictable you are. I don’t know if my heart will be able to take it.”

This time you actually got substantial peek of the upturned corner of his lips between bites. “If that’s what you label as dangerous, you might as well leave now.”

“No way, after what I’ve seen? I’m more invested than ever!.”

He shook his head and polished the food he had. “Mediocre.” He gestured to the parchment.

“Agreed.” You nodded into another bite. “But regardless of what I say, it’s still a two-way street. If you don’t want to see me after the next shop, I’ll understand.”

“You opened changing the terms of the agreement, who’s to say I didn’t terminate it early?”

You paused and gave him a suspicious look.

The even gaze he returned seemed to still be genial.

“I can’t tell if you think you’re messing with me on purpose, it’s teasing, or you really mean it.”

“Consider that something you’ll have to contend with.”

“List some more; for my sample size, I mean.”

He tipped his chin up and you finally had a chance to bask in that satisfaction.

“You’ve seen my disposition: Don’t expect flowers and chocolates. I wasn’t built for the machinations of formulaic romance. I’m evil and you will be kept in the dark about many things that widely range from what I simply don’t wish to expound on to legal ramifications.”

You stared back at him for a long moment, but he didn’t buckle under the pressure.

That amicable air had all but evaporated so you took to checking your surroundings for a hidden camera.

Finding you were not in fact on a twisted TV show, you returned your gaze to him to find him leaned back in apparent wait.

“I doubt you’ll believe me if you’re still hung up on the mutant thing, but I swear I’ve already taken pretty much all that into account.”

His gaze narrowed the slightest bit and you let him evaluate you in the same way.

You both came away in a similar stalemate: all evidence said the other was being honest, but it was hard to believe.

“Do you need a list like that for me?”

“No, I’ve gathered sufficient data.”

Now that you needed no consideration over.

It just made sense.

“So…?”

“I’m adding ‘stubborn’ to your negatives.”

“If I wasn’t, I doubt you’d even have given me a second glance.”

You weren’t sure what it was about that, but it seemed to irritate him more than another other jab you’d sent his way.

You hadn’t even meant it to be one.

“We have another shop to explore and then we’ll take it from there.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get out of you, huh?”

He gave you his trademarked look.

You gave a lazy smile and finished up your sandwich. He hadn’t made his usual move to clean up the table and you suspected it was the first of many disrespects he’d be giving the place.

You smiled inwardly.

He had no idea.

“I’m gonna guess I just took another long lunch?” The fact that fewer suits passed outside signified the hour had passed.

Donatello gave a nod.

“This is either the one weird thing my boss turns the other cheek to or he’s building up to something.”

“Best of luck with that.”

“Not a trace of sympathy!”

“It’s your occupation.” His head tipped slightly to one side.

“Thanks for not saying ‘just quit.’”

“Nothing in life is so simple. Are you at least applying for other jobs?”

You laughed. “I absolutely am.”

“Fine then. I detest those that complain without even attempting to change their station.”

“Oh! Your first deal breaker! I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“You can use it as an easy out.” His blinks seemed a bit slower as if he were relaxed.

A flicker of warmth sparked in your chest. “If that’s the case you should have told me for our earlier dates.”

He grimaced.

If you were standing you might have fallen over.

It was the first clear and open emotion he had given.

More so than even eating a rotten sandwich.

“Wha…?” You flubbed the question dumbly and rose a confused finger up to him.

“These are not dates.”

Your jaw slacked and you squinted with bewilderment.

“If I were to take you on a proper date, you would know it.”

“You’re… offended?” Recognition bloomed and seeped into the confused cracks.

He only gave you that obvious look. All other traces of emotion disappearing from his person.

“But in your warnings there was that bit about romance…?”

“I’m going to gift you a book on statistics. I expect you to read it in length.”

“Come on! That’s not even a sample size guess! It directly contradicts what you said!”

He clicked his tongue and made it seem like it was heavy labor to open his mouth. “I gave a general statement. You’re folding your assumption into that when you don’t know what I consider applicable.”

“Which is…?”

“Too lengthy if you don’t want to turn a supposition about your boss’s attitude into an certainty.”

“Fine…” You trailed off and made a move to stand. He followed suit, leaving the trash behind, and you bent over to retrieve your bag. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.” Feeling emboldened by how the whole meeting had gone, you tossed a wink along with the comment.

He passed you an unamused look and you grabbed the repulsive sandwich from earlier.

You leaned into him sweetly. “Thanks for considering it, by the way. I want to quell one of your concerns. This is how I’ll deal with the whole cross-species thing.” You whispered before rounding away from him in a extended sweep .

Several people seated nearby seemed to take notice.

“Hey!” You shouted directly at the front counter. “So rotten food is just a standard thing here!?” 

Caught up in your display and already storming the employee’s fortress, you couldn’t be sure, but you imagined Donatello watching after you with that fond expression in his eyes.

NEXT

In genocide route, after player/Frisk/Chara beating Sans, he says “Don’t say I didn’t warn you”. It’s believed that he knows about Chara’s intention to destroy the world and (sort of) warns Frisk/player about it. What do you think about this?

Sans is indeed aware that a timeline erasure is about to take place in the very near future.

In fact, that is the very reason he fights us in the first place, not just because of the killing we did.

Its possible to kill more people in a neutral route then on a genocide one and in those routes Sans will not fight us, same goes if we kill Papyrus for instance. Sans hates our guts, yet he will not fight.

This is because Sans knows that eventually, it's all going to be RESET. These deaths are not permanent. They will be undone eventually and Sans knows this.

If things are going to be RESET in the end, then instead of fighting us, the better option in case of mass murder is simply to either wait for a RESET or to try and get the anomaly to turn to a better path himself.

Either by trying to push the anomaly in the right direction.

Or by guilt-tripping it into a RESET.

He does this both because it means that those who died will be alive again in this next TI even if he won't be there to see it but also because Sans here still believes that the anomaly can be redeemed and change its ways.

In those neutral routes, Sans is hoping those things will indeed happen after the eventual RESET. An idea that he gives up upon in genocide during the second phase.

However, in a genocide route, the situation is completely different.

He explains to us what this difference is early on in the fight.

"Jumping left and right" corresponds to LOADING.

"Stopping and starting" corresponds to RESETING.

But here, what comes next is a brutal stop to all of the previous timeline shenanigans. Instead of the perpetual time loops from before, everything meets an abrupt end.

"Everything ends" corresponds to ERASE. The destruction of the world that is indeed specific to only genocide routes.

Unlike in neutral routes, things will NOT be RESET in the end in this route.

This means that this time, the consequences of the genocide will be permanent if things keep going the way they are.

This is the reason why Sans can't afford not to care this time. He needs to step in and make the anomaly RESET before it reaches the point where "everything ends" as otherwise, everything will be destroyed in a way that, as far as Sans knows, is completely irreversible.

That is why he needs them to QUIT now before its too late. Before they eventually reach the point of no return.

And so, if Sans is Sans is defeated. There is nothing left preventing the anomaly from causing the end of the world as Sans had warned them they would.

What is worth mentioning too is that Sans' vision of the events isn't quite the full picture. As far as he knows, there was only ever one timespace anomaly and this anomaly is the one that somehow causes the world to end.

Sans doesn't know exactly how the world is destroyed either, but he knows that its about to happen from the fact that the reports showed the incoming end of all timelines.

He isn't aware of the difference between Frisk, Chara and the player. Neither does he know that most of the timeline shenanigans he pinned on Frisk were actually Flowey's fault.

To him, the PFC is just one single entity : "the anomaly". He assumed that the one SAVING and LOADING was the same person as the one that goes on the ERASE the world even if in actuality, the one who has the determination to SAVE, the one that decided to begin the genocide and the one that destroys the world actually are three different people.

There is one more dimension to this : The "Bad time" line seems to have a double meaning. It seems to refer both to the fight against Sans itself and to the upcoming end of the world.

Even during the Sans fight, we are still "going" to have a bad time. This is very a clever way wording of it. The real bad time time is still upcoming, and its fast approaching.

Since what comes next is the end of all timelines and that Sans believes Frisk to be the one and only anomaly. He assumes that the anomaly is about to cause its own destruction as well as it couldn't exist outside of time and space.

Thus, even after Sans is struck down, his warning about the anomaly having a bad time still stands.

The anomaly chose to pursue a path that leads to the destruction of the world, and now its about to get exactly what it asked for.

Sans is warning the anomaly about itself. Not the player or Frisk about Chara.

Why do you even like Plo?

This is like asking me why I breathe, nonnie <": But let me try and answer this as sensible as possible ♥

Plo Koon is 385-years old

Imagine the sheer amount of knowledge in that squishy, cute head of his and you decide that of all the questions you could ask, you decided to go with whether he'd still love you if you were a worm. (1) Plo would either give you the laziest, most resigned 'Yes, dear' and go back to his naps ♥ or ... (2) Plo would exasperatedly sigh over the fact that you test his resolve in this silly, little, questions and give you the same resounding, 'No, I will not" and you will crack at it for the 128391231923th time.

There is nothing he probably can't do or know a thing or two about. Bet you my left lung that man can knit like a god.

There will always be a fine line between days of keeping himself (1) fit — which means I need to buckle tf up before I combust seeing this old man fuck someone up and be cool-dad about it <": (2) Lazy Days with Plo is my jam ♥ <-

Plo is discreet sassy. I'd go over this but I will need a year.

Plo Koon is Old Money.

If you don't know what that is, babe. Let me tell you when I say you're missing out. if you have been following me or have seen all my shit posts and tags on the Plo Koon / Kel Dor / Dorin tags, old man knees are fabulous — let me tell you why. (1) In a modern setting/au, he will enjoy short or maybe long walks that are not stressful. Will he walk under the blazing heat because the day looks great? No, neither would you bestie so sit tf down ♥ (2) Everything is made for comfort. Fuck the vow of poverty because when when you be rocking like a proper Balenciaga Sugar Daddy while traversing the Underworld, you best believe Daddy Plo be loaded AF. We're talking the Egyptian Cotton Sheets,

Plo Koon is one you would not want to shut up. Ever. At all. Like. Babe. If you ever shush this man. I will hunt you down, huntie ♥

'Ts my favorite thing in the world ♥

Plo Koon has wholesome sassy chaotic gae friends.

Plo Koon just too pure for this world ♥

Now please watch that last gif on loop and tell me that that does not make you feel things because babe, if it doesn't... Idk man. You need to get them eyes checked ♥

But in all seriousness, my love for Plo Koon is because we don't always get wholesome characters that live long and it makes you wonder what life would have been like if he did.

I'm always fascinated by age apart from it being so damn sexy.

You hear talks about clones and their strife on how hard it is being the remaining survivor and I don't want to invalidate that. Not at all. But imagine having to relieve that through centuries. Imagine how someone like Plo, who has so much appreciation for life and everything both having spent at least a few years of his life at Dorin and him returning to become a Baran Do Sage, only to constantly practice the lack of attachment?

I'm not saying that's bad or conflicting, but imagine all the things he had to repress to fulfill his purpose both as a Sage and a Jedi. And he's smart, super damn smart. Someone who's smart with a guarded heart is a lie. His heart isn't guarded, he hurts. But he he has to swallow that because he has a role to fulfill.

I could go on so much about why I find him so interesting but I'm stuck in a bad vibe rn and all I can say is I love him so much because I want him to rest? Like hello?

Let that man take his goddamn afternoon nap and teas? And for someone so loved as a wholesome character, he's slept on and frankly, I don't like that.

Plus, I bet you Kel Dors got big dicks, so there's also that. ktnxbye.

World End Solte Volume 2: A Dougnut In A Doughnut

Adventure. Magic. Mystery. Isekai (but not really). A man with a mole head. Gods and Spirits and Faeries. Where does World End Solte draw the line? World End Solte responds with, "ha, what line?". In short, it's a testament to how crazy something can be while still having its eyes on a prize, and a very specific one at that.

World End Solte volume 1 gives readers very little to go off of, but this volume is really where things kick off. Where reality and time warp and meld and you come out of a fish's butt to a Flying Mountain that's depicted to have existed in a historical text that has been proven impossible to decipher over the 40+ years it's been known for (it's a manga). So let me dive into it.

Time loops are hard to get right. World End Solte gets it right by adding its own rules to the mix. Only one person (?) travels back in time with information regarding what the future holds. But the present changes, it's not repeated to a T and isn't something that they can predict perfectly. It creates just the right feeling of confusion, while providing a solid set of steps for the group to take on their adventure.

And I must say, Mizukami makes incredibly short work of using it to its full potential, by extracting exposition from characters. Filo and Black end up opening themselves up rather quickly because they've believed that they'd do it anyways, so easier to get it done and over with.

What I love about this is that it doesn't abuse it. We get loads of information, but just as much remains infinitely puzzling. Sure, we see that Ruud was originally just a nerd before being influenced by Black, and that Cyril grew up in the same town. But Linsen is an enigma that nobody knows anything about. The same goes for what constitutes a God vs a Sprit, and why countries will form contracts with them in the first place.

We don't know anything about Spirit Sickness other than when it's usually contracted. And we have no idea why the king (who has spirit sickness) refers to themselves as "we". So in a sense, World End Solte is rather cunning with information, giving you a nice helping of it when it does, but also slipping in just how massive and indecipherable the world at large is.

Indecipherable, that's a good word to segue with. The Glen Text, touted as an important cultural text that holds great important to the Fiend Realm, but like I stated earlier there's been zero progress in deciphering it. The joke is, however, that the text is just a manga that Black of all people can read. Yeah, he's isekai'd (sorta) just like the author of the text. I lied though, it's not really an isekai, it's memories of a previous life. It's something that's shown to be common through the use of a magical relic that appears in the text.

And that's what makes World End Solte so indecipherable. It's taking in tropes and concepts and cliches, chewing on them thoroughly, and then spitting them out in a form where all that remains is the name of the thing. Travelling a dangerous and disturbing realm that even veterans struggle with? How about you start off by walking down a road where feet and hands pound the ground on either side? Or what about a never-ending spiral walkway that distorts all sense of time and reality?

I wouldn't say the magic or the history or information is what gives this volume its flair, but rather Mizukami's style applied to a good concept. Magic is taken incredibly loosely, and the limits of it are applied in just the right amount to create an incredible scale with which to approach the world. It's wide and dangerous, but at the same time is shown to be incredible exciting and engaging. Perfectly nonsensical without sacrificing its story or appeal.

It's Playful, But With A Bite

Everything is wonderful if you look at it with curiosity

Until this injury, I've never had surgery before. I'm not exactly happy that I had to have surgery-- I was proud of my streak, and I'm disappointed that it's over now.

But it happened. And I have to just fuckin' deal with it.

One of the first (and arguably most important) lessons I've learned over the past month is that perspective is EVERYTHING. The way you view your experience really does dictate how you experience it. And at the beginning, I decided I would approach every experience in this process with curiosity.

Instead of: Fuck, I have to get an MRI. I've heard they're scary. I'm dreading this.

I'm doing this: I've always wondered what it's really like getting an MRI. I've seen every episode of House, and I've always wanted to know if they portray it accurately.

Not even close! (At least in the MGH system.)

It was a surreal experience. First of all, I was VERY late, and the front desk lady was VERY angry with me, and warned that I might have to wait a while.

When I'm called, I'm whisked away to the back room, which consists of a waiting room connected to a hallway with lines of stalls on one side and lockers on the other. I have to get undressed (underwear can stay) and don a pair of linen hospital pants, robe, and of course, grippy socks. All my belongings are put in a locker, and I grasp to my key-- now the single most important belonging of mine.

I sit in the waiting room for a while, scrunched down in the chair slightly because it felt better for my leg. People pass me by-- maintenance contractors (CBRE, the same people that manage my work building), bustling nurses, mysterious businessmen.

Finally, I'm escorted into yet another back room. Another hallway, with patient loading bays on one side, and the MRI machines on the other. What made this experience so bizarre was the lights-- the hallway was on a constant, hypnotizing rainbow loop. Red flowing into orange, to yellow, to green, and so on. Over and over. Not only that, but there wasn't a single bit of harsh white light in the entire place. If the light wasn't rainbow, it was a dim white.

I'm fitted into a table for the next MRI slot. They position my leg in a frame, stuff padding anywhere that my knee isn't, and then lock in the top portion of the frame.

They ask me to start thinking about what artist I want to listen to during the MRI. I'm surprised by this question, but almost immediately know who I'm picking.

While we're waiting for an MRI to open up, the nurses around me are joking around with each other-- it's clear that the vibes are immaculate in this workplace.

Finally, it's my turn, and I'm wheeled into the MRI room. They load me up, and I tell them sheepishly that I want to listen to Qveen Herby, yes that's Qveen spelled Q-V-E-E-N. They don't bat an eye, and a tinny version of 'F Myself' plays in my headphones.

My lower half is brought into the machine. I lay there, eyes closed, intently focused on not moving my knee. I'm then pulled out, before anything actually happens. I have to switch tables. They reload me, and this time things progress as normal. The machine warms up, and then the rhythmic clanging begins. With the headphones, it's not that bad, but I totally understand why it would freak people out, especially if your head was in there. My focus flits between listening to the different rhythms of each scan, and listening to the music in my headphones. Why is the music so tinny? Couldn't they afford nice headphones?

And then it's over. I'm wheeled out and released from the table. I catch a glimpse of the headphones as they remove them from my ears, and I see that where a cord should be, there's just a clear tube. I realize then that normal headphones probably aren't MRI friendly.

I retrieve my belongings and change back into my clothes. The person at the front desk is much kinder to me, and wishes me a good day. Outside, the valet gives me a pitying smile and tells me to have a good day, in an earnest and fully well-wishing way. He says this knowing full well that I parked in the garage instead of using the valet, and that the walk was long and horrifically exhausting.

***

Because I approached this experience with curiosity, I had a really good time. I had a brand new experience, and learned a lot of new things! Of course, I'll acknowledge that it's easier to stay curious when my indication is strictly mechanical-- torn MCLs are much easier to identify and fix than say a tumor.

I've found that when you approach everything with curiosity, with a desire to learn something new, the chance to experience a new sensory experience-- the experience becomes instantly more soft. How can you be judgmental with something you're curious about?

outer wilds thoughts on time loops (at the end of the universe)

whats interesting about being able to die now (because you can stop the ash twin project and break the time loop), is that you as the player are in fact still looping. its just not experienced by the player character anymore.

like, the time loop reset is something that feels really neat and cool because it is an in-game explanation (that the game revolves around!) for a very basic videogame concept of respawning after death. everything you do, and go through, is also actually experienced by the character that i am controlling. our experiences line up 100% which makes it so easy to get really immersed. (the same applies to the in-game UI, too. aside from the button prompts, you only get a health/oxygen display/map/etc when you get in the suit. i think i could use the word diegetic here?) as the timeloop, well, loops, you also experience the flashback thing, which is again, an in-game experience aswell. the main menu screen says “continue expedition”.

this gets broken by dying after you break the timeloop. theres a “YOU ARE DEAD” screen and the credits play (no music, just the text scroll). ive never sat through all of them so i dont know if theres anything else at the end, but if you press a button it brings you right back to the main menu, which now says “load previous save”. and thats just so. it breaks the immersion from before but in a way that i think is interesting, if jarring. at its most critical moment (the endgame! well, im fairly sure it is at least.) i am through my failure reminded that This Is A Video Game. (theres of course another choice the devs could have made here, which is to set a failure at this point of the game as a definitive game over. it would make sense if you would look at the in-game lore and how the gameplay has presented itself so far. the reason they didnt of course is that that would suck. its hostile to players. which is a choice you can make, and it can work for an art piece, but i AM glad it wasnt made here. it probably just wouldve meant that people would find a way to load a save anyways or that way less people would finish the game at all.)

oh, and to get back to my original point: im still looping. the game resets for me. but the experience of me and the experience of the player character do not line up anymore. they did not in fact get to The Eye Of The Universe only to fall in a ditch and wait around to die. (or, well, they did, but only /i/ know that. they didnt retain the memories of that, which was was the point of the ash twin project, to send memories back). this all is very cool to me. i love time loops and video games are such a ripe medium for them anyways & outer wilds does great stuff with it.

these are all things im sure smarter people and actual critics have said better (and i think i will search those out after i finish playing) but well! i wanted to type it out. thanks for reading

Character 2 Component 3 - Lævateinn

For this component I need to create a weapon that is a melee weapon based of the "Lævateinn" from both mythology and marvel.

Research

Need to know how to make a melee weapon first.

I was going to use this video as a resource as I had found prior to making Loki at all however when making this I realised I didn't have enough time for real animations so I had to adapt it to work for me this also included the combat system.

Development

Result

Part 1 - Action Input

Off of the initial input it runs 3 checks one for

To check if the possessing character is actually Loki

to check if your ultimate is active "Invis"

To check if you have a gun out "Has gun? If the 3rd one is true it would run a a small script to hide the gun by setting hidden gun to true and casting to the gun blueprint and then running the hide gun custom event in it. If False it runs "Lev?" Custom event (also runs after the true line)

Part 2 - Lev?

On the custom event it is basically a flipflop component that will contradict the value of the branch condition depending on what its value is

On branch Condition - Lev Out, a variable that when true should mean the sword is out visually

True: Sets Lev out to false then runs custom event Hide Lev

False: Sets Lev out to true then runs custom event Show Lev

Part 3 - Show & Hide Lev

Hide Lev - Sets the Sword "Moved" Hidden in game

Show Lev - Sets the Sword "Moved" Shown in game

Part 4 - Use

When the sword is out you will now have the option to use it to be able to attack with it this stem off a Use action input. When Use is pressed it checks 3 times

The usual "Is Loki?"

The Lev Out variable previously mentioned checks to see if it is true

To check if the cooldown of the sword swing is done After the checks it then runs a custom event named "Swing Sword"

Part 5 - Swing Sword

First it deactivates the sword swing cooldown to false to prevent spamming then it goes into a timeline which is a timeline used to be used as a start lerp for the sword swing from Point a which is your hand to up above your head where there is a hidden placeholder sword. On the finishing of the timeline the reset sword custom event, the next node doesn't do anything I just forgot to remove it.

Red - Place holder (Hidden in game) Green - Hand (Not Hidden in game)

Part 6 - Swing Sword Part 2 After the "wind" timeline is finished it does another timeline that does the same thing but for the main swipe LERPing between the component above the head location to another placeholder. The timeline isn't a standard diagonal line this time as it is a slight curve to give it less of a unnatural feel. When it Finishes it runs "Sword Delay" Which is the cooldown subroutine mentioned earlier.

Part 7 - Swing Sword Part 3

After the timeline is finished it runs another custom event named "Reset Sword Do once" and then the middleman branch which when true would set both itself and "Has flame" to false.

On Update however (meanwhile the swing is happening) it will gather an array of all overlapping actors in which will be used to check them in a for each loop if all 3 conditions are met. The branch and actions will only continue if said actor is not itself ("!="), is tagged PLR (Tag only used on players) and if at least 20% of the timeline has played because if it doesn't it can occasionally count it twice. Then a Branch is played to see if the the activated their weapon ability "Has Flame" if it has then it will do that track (explained in weapon ability post). If false it will run the false track

*The reset sword do once is a custom event in the centre left of the image that is only ran after the timeline finished to stop the weapon stacking damage as the timeline runs the update line on tick

Part 8 - False Track

The false track will do this once to prevent a load repeating damage then it will damage the the actor array element.

Part 9 - Reset Sword

A Event that resets the location of the sword to your hand. "Cube" is a place holder for the sword that is moved "Moved". Off activation it hides the moved sword and sets it location to the placeholder.

Part 10 - Sword Delay/Cooldown

A Small string of code that stops spamming of the attack, a balancing mean. When it is cooled a delay of 0 seconds happen which just gives the code a bit of time to catch up sets the sword "Moved" Hidden in game then delays for a 3rd of a second then sets the "Sword cooldown" to true.

How To Host A Dinner Party

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Werewolf! Kirishimia Eijiro: A New Meaning to Golden Retriever Boyfriend.

Thank you so dearly for this request, it was so much fun to write. Prompt #16 “Not this again.” For the fictober event. If you have a request, please send me an ask I would love to write it. 

No warnings, fluffy and cute.

"You've got to be kidding me, not this again." You looked down at your phone, a long paragraph typed up from your boyfriend Eijiro in the same format as last month. An excuse, an apology, canceling tonight's plans, and about two more apologies. Tonight he's claiming stomach issues, but you know the truth. You sigh and check your bank account. If he would just tell the truth you could tell him that it wouldn't be a problem for you to pay for the movie tickets tonight! He makes good money, he must really spend over his budget. He's so chivalrous and sweet, it might insult him to try and pay for things sometimes. You don't mind, if only he'd just open up.

You decide that enough is enough, you're going over there and you're going to put an end to the lying! He's going to let you pay for the date if you have to drag him out by his ears. You throw on the outfit you had planned for your date, cleaned up your hair and head down the street into the night air. Eijiro's house is just outside of city lines in the suburbs. He has a nice end lot with a large field behind it. You're so jealous of his view. You hop on the bus and ride with head phones on, listening to a playlist he made you. The bus can be a little scary at night, but nobody is on here except for you. It's kind of peaceful just listening to music and staring at the full moon. It's large and round face is staring down at you like a caring grandmother.

 Another text pops up.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I disappointed you. I have to get some sleep, I love you baby." You rolled your eyes. It's just past 10pm! You're not letting him sit and sulk in the dark alone all night. You resisted the urge to throw your phone into your bag in frustration. He is such a wonderful boyfriend 99% of the time, but he always seems like he's hiding a part of himself. What is it? A bad childhood? A gambling addiction? Is he secretly apart of the mafia??? The bus halted to a stop and left you outside of his neighborhood, you stomped all the way down the sidewalk to the end of the line of houses and stared at your boyfriends place. The porch light is off, but the lights are on inside. You know where he keeps the hidden spare key and jam it into the lock. You almost kick the door down as you shout for your boyfriend.

 He was sitting on the couch, tying his shoe laces. He's putting on hiking boots this late? "Hey! You're awake!" You slam the door behind you and scold your red headed sweet heart. "Babe what are you doing here? It's almost midnight!" His voice is shaking. He nervously looks at the clock on the wall and stands up. "You have to go baby, I'm really embarrassed! My stomach is-" "Stop lying! Your stomach is fine!" You want to raise your voice and yell, but his giant puppy dog eyes are so cute. You jam a finger into his chest and scrunch up your mouth, doing your best to look irritated. "I knew I would get here and see you're not hunched over a puke bucket!" He put both hands on your shoulders and gently rubbed up and down on your arms. He's such a large man, he's practically a wall he's so solid. Yet he always has the sweetest touches, making sure to be so gentle with you. His callused finger tips brushed against your skin and gave you goosebumps.

 It took every ounce of restraint in you not to fall right into his arms. "I'm sorry honey, but you really can't stay here tonight. I need you to head back home." He said hardly above a whisper. He kissed your forehead and you shoved his chest with all of your might. He didn't budge, but understood you wanted him away from you so he stepped back. "Oh I'm sorry, is your booty call on the way over and I'm interrupting?" You felt like someone had stabbed you right in the heart. It couldn’t be true, he has never showed any signs of being disloyal. You’re just tired and confused.

 Eijiro looked panicked. "Oh god of course not! No, no its not like that I swear!"  He swallowed you in his arms pushing your cheek against his pecks and kissing all over the top of your head. "There is nobody other than you, I could never even think of betraying you, you're my soul mate." He said between kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled in. His warmth overwhelming. "Well then what is it...?" You whined a bit, it's getting later and you want to just fall asleep in his arms. "Are you going to turn into a wolf at midnight?" You chuckled. His hand stopped running through your hair and he stiffened completely. You look up at him puzzled, he's staring down at you with a look of panic. "That's crazy why would you even say that?" He says all too seriously. You nervously laugh. "What's wrong? I was just joking. It's not like I really believe you're about to start howling at the full moon." Eijiro stared off into space, like his brain was loading and he couldn't think of what to say. "Right...?" You cocked an eyebrow at him. "It might be a little bit like that." He scratched his head. 

You two sat in the quiet for a little bit. Every time he tried to elaborate he ended up getting caught up in his own words. You two sat awkwardly in his living room until its about 5 minutes til midnight. "I- I'm going to go to the bathroom." He quickly dismissed himself, running to his bedroom and shutting the door. You followed quickly after him. Is he insane? Does he really expect you to just sit out here while he hides pretending to shape shift to get out of movie night? He's obviously  having a difficult time, maybe his money troubles make him feel emasculated? You softly tap on his bedroom door and it slips open. The bathroom door is closed shut with the light peaking out under the crack. You walk past his bed and dressers and hear weird scuttling sounds the closer you get. You knock again. "Hey honey, why don't you come out so we can talk about this? It's okay if you didn't want to go out because of money..." You leaned against the door. "It doesn't make you less of a man to let me pay sometimes." He's so wonderful, you don't think there could be any other reason why he can be so flakey.

The sound of shampoo bottles and shaving cream canisters falling to the ground startle you. "Babe are you okay?" You turn the door nob. The door flings open, a large shape tackles you, knocking you to the ground. You let out a large wheeze, the wind escaping your lungs. "What the fu-" Your face was assaulted with a large flat tongue, licking all over you. Slobber flew across the room as a giant red dog panted and whimpered as it gave you kisses. "You're a dog! Oh my god you're a dog!" You pushed your monstrous boyfriend off of you and took a good look at him. He's huge, and even a little scary looking. His fur is bright crimson and his eyes are a daring shade of yellow. But he sat there, panting like a normal dog. You waved in front of his face. "Are you in there babe?" The dog playfully nipped at your finger, trying to pull your hand into his mouth. "Hey! No bites!" You retracted your hand and held it close to your chest. His fangs are giant. 

The wolf man got down low to the ground in the stance you've seen puppies do right before they-

 He takes off, zooming across the floor and into the living room at full speed. Pictures that lined the hallway crash to the ground. You rush to your feet and chase after him. "Wait!! Down boy! Down!!" You shout. He's already on the couch, gripping a throw pillow between his powerful jaws and shaking it. Cotton stuffing flies across the room, coating the floor. "No! Bad Eijiro! Bad doggy!" You try to wrestle the pillow away from him and fail. He topples over you, knocking you back down onto the floor and taking off across the room again, this time to the kitchen. You tenderly rub your arm, you landed on it weird and it's a little sore. Another crashing sound prompts you to get up onto your feet and run after him. The trash can is toppled over on its side, trash strewn across the floor. His snout was pushing around the garbage, looking for something to swallow. "Are you kidding me? What is with you?" You grab the wolf by the scruff of his neck, and pull him to the other side of the room away from the trash. "You sit!" Eijiro whines and sits down, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. "Oh don't look at me like that. This is not what I thought a werewolf would be like." Eijiro's large head pushed against you, rubbing his face all over your stomach as you pet his head. "You just need to burn some of this energy off." 

You can't help but love the silly thing. He is still your boyfriend, even if he is a little different than usual right now. He followed you down the hall,  staying right by your side. He takes up most of the space, his large frame almost tipping you off balance with small bumps into your hip. You dug through a pile in his hall closet until you found an old baseball and plastic toy bat. Wow, he really needs to clean up his closet, you think to yourself. "Okay babe, let's go-" He looked up at you with all of the love in the world, hanging on your every word. You crack into a smile. "Let's go outside and play you big goof.

"The two of you trampled through the tall grass behind Eijiro's house, he seemed to use little to no effort at all. His massive paws stomping down the weeds like it's nothing. You decided you were far enough away from the neighbors and took a strong stance. You haven't hit a ball in ages, but this plastic bat is wide and should make it a little easier on you. The baseball flew high into the air, you focused and swung the bat, smacking the ball across the field. Your wolf ran, faster than any animal you had ever seen after the small object, passing it and having to loop around with a terrifying pin point turn. He grabbed the ball off of the ground so quick you barely saw the motion, and in a flash he was back at your feet. You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh. "Are you kidding me? You're amazing!" Eijiro looked pleased, so you scratched his neck fluff.

 "Alright let's see if I can hit it a little farther." 

Again, and again, and again he chased the ball across the field and back happily dropping the ball at your feet. He only made you wrestle for it once, he could probably keep the ball away from you forever with those intense muscles, but that's not as fun for him. Seeing how pleased you looked when he brought it back was filling the beast with all the pride in the world.

Eventually your arm got tired, and he seemed to have about run out of energy too. He laid down in the field and looked up at the moon. You laid your head on his stomach, the rhythm of his breathing so comforting. You just talked to him, venting about life and how weird things are in the city now. You found yourself thinking about how a simple bus ride was starting to feel too far away from him at this point. "I know you don't really understand me right now, but I really love you. I know we've said it before, but I love you. I think you're my forever person." He was laying on his paws, looking up at the starry sky. "I know you felt like you had to hide this from me, but it doesn't scare me, or weird me out." You talk quietly and close your eyes, snuggling deeper into his fur. "If I have to come throw a ball for you once a month, I'll do it. I've got friends that deal with way worse with their boyfriends." You smirked, thinking you're pretty funny. That'll make Eijiro laugh in the morning, you'll save that for later. 

The rising sun burned your eyelids, scaring you awake. You hadn't meant to stay out here for the rest of the night, but it was so late and he was so comfortable. He's much more familiar to you now, he slept peacefully as you rested on his chest. He looks worn out, but the two of you can't stay out there forever. You gently tap his face. He popped one eye open and looked around. "Oh man!" He gasped and looked down at his hands and feet. "I'm so stupid! You could get sick staying outside all night!" He put a hand on your face and cupped your chin. "Are you alright my love?" He asked with the soft voice only you get to hear. "Yeah I'm fine. How are you feeling?" "I feel fine. I'll be a little more hungry today, but it's no big deal." He looked down at the ground with a sheepish smile. "Thanks for staying with me all night." "Aw come on, it's no big deal. You're... a good boy." You teased while ruffling his hair.

 "Hey!"

My Ko-Fi -> https://ko-fi.com/writinginthedarkwoods Please send spooky requests!

Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago

Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.

He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”

Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.

They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.

“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”

Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”

Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”

The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.

Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”

Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”

“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”

“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”

“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”

Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”

Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”

Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”

Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.

“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”

Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.

Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”

“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”

Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.

He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.

Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”

The Sky’s the Limit - Chapter 12

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previously:

Coulson, Fitz, Triplet, and Simmons return to Providence, staring at the space the BUS used to be.

"Where's our BUS?" Simmons asks.

"And out team?" Fitz adds.

"I don't know," Coulson replies.

. . .

Skye looks out over the horizon, gazing at the setting sun. She wishes (Y/n) was here to watch it with her.

But no.

She didn't have the pleasure of holding hands with the woman she'd come to care for.

No, she was holding the hand of Grant Ward, Agent of HYDRA.

3rd Person POV

"It's so beautiful," Skye's voice catches in her throat as Ward flicks switches on the BUS's control panel. The sky was turning beautiful shades of orange, red, and pink with the setting sun. "So, are we off to Portland?" Skye asks Ward.

"Actually, Fitz thinks the 0-8-4 plasma ray we found in Peru might help," Ward replies.

"Didn't we jettison it to the sun?" Skye's facade falls for a moment.

"Yeah, but Fitz has the specs on it," Ward replies.

"On the hard drive," Skye finishes.

Ward smiles, nodding.

"You need me to decrypt the hard drive," Skye goes on, looking back out over the horizon.

"The team does," Ward corrects. "And since it's coupled to specific coordinates, Agent Skye, you're in charge." Ward smiles at her.

"Where to next?" Ward questions.

. . .

Melinda May jumps into a Ford, her bag resting on her lap.

The woman in the driver's seat turns off the car. "What are you doing? We have to go," May says.

"Five-hundred miles," the older woman questions.

"What?" May asks.

"Five-hundred miles, and I don't even get a 'thank you'?" the older woman quesitons.

"I was just about to -" Melinda May begins.

"It's too late," the elder May replies.

" . . . thank you," Melinda goes on.

"You can call anybody you like," the older woman begins, "so, why me?"

"I needed someone I can trust," May replies.

"That bad, huh?" the older woman asks her daughter.

"Did you get it?" Melinda asks her mother.

"I may be retired, but I still have my contacts," the woman replies. "And my agency hasn't fallen apart."

Melinda smiles slightly.

"You're not the only one looking, you know," the older woman goes on. "She won't be hard to find."

"I know," Melinda replies.

"You're not gonna take her out, are you?" the older woman asks.

"No, Mom," Melinda replies. "I just want to talk."

"Good. I've always liked Maria," the engine starts up again.

. . .

"Play it again," Coulson says.

"It's the same every time, sir," Fitz replies.

"Fitz," Coulson orders.

"As I said, all internal camera feeds were erased," Fitz says, turning back to the computer monitor, but the hangar's landing assist system is separate." The agents turn to look at the feed. "The camera tracks movement. So, after we left, everything's normal until this."

"An entry log has May leaving the base a few minutes later through the front door - only her," Simmons says. "And then (Y/n) loading equipment into the BUS. And then this," Simmons's voice turns questioning as she watches the feed again for the fourth time - Skye and Ward entering the BUS together, their hands swinging between them.

"Holding hands?" Coulson wonders. I though Skye liked (Y/n).

"Soon after, the plan takes off." Fitz replies. "But that is all we've got."

"Where are they going? And Koenig? (Y/n)?" Coulson wonders aloud.

"He must've gotten onto the plane somehow," Simmons says.

"There's not other way in or out," Coulson replies, moving closer to the screen so he could watch the feed loop once again.

"The blast door and the hangar door are the only exits," Trip puts in."

"And both are undamaged," Coulson finishes. "So nobody attacked the place, and they weren't running away. So why?"

"Maybe Koenig got orders?" Trip offers.

"From who?" Fitz rolls his eyes. "Not Fury. Is there anyone left to give orders? Aren't we just improvising at this point."

"Still wouldn't explain why the communication lines were cut or why they left their phones or why May just . . . left," Simmons says.

"May walked away because i told her to," Coulson says. "I was mad, and I was mean."

"Then we don't need her sorry ass," Trip says.

"Excuse me?" Coulson turns to the agent.

"With all the crap we're facing, this is not the time to pull the ripcord, bail out," Trip says.

Simmons stands up, "I'll make us some food. We have to eat."

"Let me help," Trip starts to get up but Fitz stops him.

"No, no, I'll go," Fitz says, following Simmons.

. . .

Simmons walks into the storage closet, looking down at the floor.

Something catches Simmons's eye, and she kneels down, lifting the lanyard from the floor.

"(Y/n)'s badge," Simmons says aloud, picking the broken pieces off the floor.

. . .

Fitz walks past the womens' bathroom, and something catches his eye.

Taking a step back, he notices that the panel in the bathroom - which was supposed to change depending on the time of day - was still set on nighttime skyline.

"Night?" Fitz questions aloud. He looks at another screen, which had a picture of snowy mountains, the sun's light glinting off the snow-capped mountains.

Fitz steps into the bathroom.

. . .

Simmons steps further into the storage closet, (Y/n)'s lanyard hanging from her arm.

. . .

Fitz steps up to the panel, catching sight of the knife holding the panel down.

. . .

Simmons finds the pancake mix, moving to leave when she sees a trail of red running down the wall beside the doorframe.

. . .

The words, WARD IS HYDRA, is carved into the panel and Fitz stares at the words in shock.

Fitz starts, hearing Simmons's scream.

Word Count: 1061 words

The Sky's the Limit Taglist:

@marie45019​

@confusinggemini612​

@imapotatao​

Claiming Ones Own

Cross posted on my AO3. Thank you again @boldlyanxious for your encouragement.

Decided that there wasn't enough Cass and Marinette fics and finally got this concept out my head and written down.

Masterlist

[next]

Chapter 1 - Cass gains a child

Cass could feel Jason’s frustrations radiating off him. He was over from Gotham to help tracking a new drug that had cropped up over there but originated in Hong Kong. They had managed to find the Hong Kong point of contact from the Gotham Drug Lord and now trying to work out the Hong Kong network.

Currently they were seated on top of a building observing their latest suspect.

She could feel the irritation pulsating off Jason, the twitch of his fingers ever so often. The low almost inaudible growl. The way the air around him vibrated with his emotions ready to pounce.

The annoyance stemmed from following the suspect for over a fortnight and it was clear that the gang rarely met up in person and was apt at avoiding use of technology to communicate. Cass was happy being a ghost bat in Hong Kong at the present. The lack of use in tech made it trickier to gain evidence for the police to surreptitiously stumble upon.

Tapping Jason, Cass signed to him ‘we need to infiltrate or plant recording devices’

“Yeah” came the response as he turned back to observe the suspect, “Recording devices is probably the quickest way. The way these guys are operating will make it hard to infiltrate quickly.”

Moments later “Fuckers!!” Jason snarled. Fingers twitching even more towards his gun.

Cass looked down and saw what caused Jason’s outburst. They had recently concluded that the men used street kids to send messages to each other, the unseen people of the city who were very good at being avoided. The gang that used them seemed hold and extraordinary amount of power held over these kids.

“Fucking pieces of shit” Jason muttered to Cass as they watched what the men were doing. Cass narrowed her eyes and silently nodded. She focused on the child who ran off observing the direction and movement. Suddenly she jabbed Jason and whispered “look” pointing to the child. They observed the girl knock into a man and sneakily pickpocket him before scampering off.

Cass nudged Jason quietly saying “plan”, before signing ‘if we can get a tracker on a kid and let them pick pocket us we can work out the number of locations and maybe plant recording devices’ Jason replied “hmmmm, risky but quicker than waiting for these bozos to slip up”.

The next few days the pair watch their target, also taking note of the street kids, to figure out who they would let target them, before deciding on the original girl they saw. She was petite, either due to age or, more likely, malnourishment. She had dark hair but what made her stand was having unexpected blue eyes. She was more skittish around the original suspect and other gang members they had come across but was bolder in her pick pocketing. She was creative in her approaches and had a far higher success rate compared to the other children. It was clear she felt safer amongst strangers who, if caught her, could seriously cause issues, than the men she was working for.

While Jason blustered and verbally vented his anger, Cass’s anger grew silent but more deadly. Neither were happy about the blatant child abuse occurring.

Having figured out the type of “target” the girl went for both Cass and Jason set the plan in motion. Trackers and recorders on their wallets, lots of cash and fake credit card trackers and recorders along with a micro trackers to put on the girl in case she ditches the wallet and just takes the cash. They dressed slightly better than the average person to showcase “wealth” which she seemed more inclined to go for and headed out.

Out on the streets she fell for their plan perfectly. Cass was able to slip the tracker onto the child while she slipped Jason’s wallet out his pocket. The pair continued their loop round back to Cass’s apartment to see where the kid went.

“Cass, fuck! She is good. If I’d not grown up on Crime Alley I would have struggled to notice. She is fucking good. Too bloody good! Shitting hell, that kinda skill only comes with practice! Like a fuck load of practice! Crap! She’s tiny! How bloody long has she been having to do this for! Fuck how long has she lived on the streets” Jason cursed. He was impressed but could feel the anger brewing, the desire to hurt someone.

“Long time” Cass replied before signing ‘She’s too thin. Her eyes showed fire. Determination but haunted’. The look in her eye’s had struck a chord with Cass when they 'bumped' into each other. Something about them resonated within her but Cass wasn’t quite ready to name it yet.

Back at the apartment they watched the trackers path and patterns over the next few days. Their little pickpocket went to 5 different warehouses along with a few apartments and the original dock with the first suspect repeatedly. Rarely using the same route or common paths, though destination always the same.

The pair scouted out the warehouses and apartments to get a better understanding of how the operation was run. It wasn’t just drug’s they were producing and exporting but also slave trafficking as well. No wonder the kids were terrified of the adults. They could easily be shipped off at any moment if they stepped out of line.

Cass’s disgust was intensifying with this discovery. They were practically slaves as it is even with the external slave threat hanging over them.

Cass could hear Jason loading of a gun. Looks like Jason’s preferred method of elimination would be soon be seen.

Over the course of a week. Cass and Jason snuck into each warehouse, planting bombs on secure/obscure locations. Carefully the explosions would leave just enough evidence for the police to take the gang down but also eliminate the gangs means to continue operating. Whilst trying to minimise external impact of neighbouring buildings. Well at least that was the aim. Anonymous hints were also sent or found at police stations.

All they now had to do was press the button on Jason's phone to ignite the bombs at the warehouses and take down the headquarters.

Jason and Cass crept into the headquarters building sticking to the shadows. Cass signed 'detonate' to Jason who grinned manically and did his thing. With so many warehouses littered with explosives you could hear when they went off. Shortly followed by the sound of sirens.

Cass and Jason used the distraction to sweep through the building taking out henchmen left, right and centre. Their anger and fury finally being released.

The pair had completed taking the men above ground up and were tying the stragglers up when they heard sirens approaching. They quickly slinked into the shadows out of sight to observe. Cass was still wanting to maintain that bats were still an urban rumour in Hong Kong at this point.

The police swept the upstairs building observing the chaos Cass and Jason had left while a group of them went off to look in the basement. Over the radio they heard a crackly “Chief, you may want to come down here. Bring bold cutters with you. And call social services and a med team. I think we will need that.”

“What's happened!” the chief replied, signalling to an officer nearby to call the services requested.

“They’ve got a group of kids caged up down here” came the crackly reply. Half of the team that went to the basement returned with a cuffed pair from the gang and took them to the cars outside. The chief muttered to himself and to the basement.

In the shadows Jason signed to Cass ‘Fuck! I should have killed those men! No! Wait! Death would be too sweet. Maimed them more” Cass nodded in agreement though her gaze kept focus on the scene they were observing.

The police slowly led the children out of the basement and, from somewhere, had a paramedic check the children out along with having someone from social services talk to them.

Then came Cass and Jason's pickpocket. The girl growled at them all and kept her distance refusing to let the paramedic treat her.

A kid spoke out to an officer "You won't get anything from her. She doesn't really speak. Or not to us at least. Dolly is a puppet and does what the Bossman says. Doesn't trust anyone"

"Yeah I don’t think Marionette has ever spoke while I've been here and that's ages, I think she was one of the first they got" another provided. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the small group children.

The girl stood watching like a cornered animal, eyes darting everywhere, looking like she wanted to escape. She seemed to see through the shadows and stared right at Cass and Jason which unsettled the bat duo. They were nearly invisible to the others in the room. But not this small child.

Quietly Cass whispered while signing "Safe. Mean men gone. Be ok now." to the girl. Even if the crowded room didn’t notice, she was positive this small girl could see her in the gloom. A small amount of tension left the girls shoulders.

Eventually the other children had all been seen by the medic, spoken to the police while the social worker was working on finding places for them to go for the interim. It was just this girl left to resolve. Having seen the adults treat the other children with care she cautiously let them look at her, warily viewing everyone and still ready for a quick escape if needed.

"Malnourished, a fair number of cuts and some nasty bruises from what I can tell. There doesn't appear to be any broken bones thankfully. She will need a careful diet to increase her weight and vitamins to help with what is likely to have missed out of her diet. Much like the rest of them. She should be good to go after I’ve dressed this cuts" said the medic looking the girl over. He turned to grab a wipe and bandage and the girl was off.

She swiftly slipped through the adults in the room and darted out onto the streets to disappear. Loud shouts occur from the chaos left behind.

Cass watched the girl intently. Observing her movements. Cass could tell though she was cooperating, the girl was planning. The glint in her eyes and slight angle of her body. As soon as she shifted to move Cass grabbed Jason and they slipped outside following her quickly. Sticking to the roofs they tracked the girl down to an alleyway. The girl was terrified. She knew they had caught her. She was trapped though and though frantically looking for different ways to avoid them was stuck.

“Safe now” Cass whispered signing along “Promise men are gone now. We won’t hurt you. We’ll look after you. You’ll be safe now”.

Carefully Cass approached the girl as if a frightened animal. Cass quietly said to Jason “Chocolate” holding her hand out for him to give it to him. Calmly and gently as possible she placed the chocolate near her and waited sitting on the floor gracefully. She could see the fear in the girl’s eyes, with distrust but there was a burning fire as well. Patience would be the key to winning the child over.

Cass knew she wasn’t going to let this girl go, let alone let her live on the streets and she was sure that Jason was of the same mind set.

Slowly they saw the girl take the chocolate. The child inspected it with caution and nibble it. The way her eyes grew wide was a delight and she ate it in haste. While she nibbled, she kept her eyes trained on the pair watching their movements.

When finished she remained cautiously looking at them, but body language didn’t scream “fear”, more curiosity was emerging. Cass smirked as she understood that she was reading their body language and reading their intent as much they were hers. Cass opened her body language up. Again reiterating ‘Safe now’ “Safe” to the girl. The girl’s eyes bored into hers whilst moments pass, and when the girl found what she was looking for offered her hand to Cass to hold.

Cass turned to Jason and stares straight into his eyes, “My child now”.

[next]

"You're my favorite" is a dialogue callback & a major hint as to what's up with Mobius

Let's talk about Mobius, Ravonna, the drink rings, the pen, the trophies, and "you're my favorite" because I don't think the clues are leading towards Mobius being a villain or a clone or a Loki... but they are leading towards him being a lot more *like* Loki than maybe we realized at the start... meta/analysis under the cut

Mobius is not a villain. The set of scenes meant to really underline this fact are when we see him sneak off to the library with Ravonna's Tempad to watch the Hunter C-20 video and see for himself that his suspicions that Loki was right about the agents being variants is true. If he were a villain, he would have already known this. That said... there are some clues that there *is* something that Mobius already knew and let's look at what those clues are and just what Mobius may be up to.

Mobius is something that Ravonna and the TVA need-- he's smart, inquisitive and a good leader. Their problem with that is he is smart, inquisitive and a good leader. That makes him a bit dangerous should he get too close to the truth. Other agents love him and might be more likely to follow him if he told them they were being lied to so that can't ever happen. On the other hand, it's far easier to "fix" someone that's broken by TVA definition than to just outright destroy it because good analysts don't grow on trees. That other agent who collected the other half of the trophies in Ravonna's office? The one who left drink rings on her table that overlap (in a Mobius loop-like pattern) with Mobius' own? That was the dude whose name is literally his name *twice over*-- Mobius himself. That is why there is no other analyst for Mobius to have ever bumped into in the hallway or been introduced to. Now, think about how Mobius must have thought about this other analyst. Like, a *lot*...

Mobius likes his puzzle and his ears are sharp, too. He brings up the other analyst to Ravonna in conversation, keeping it light, to watch what she says about this person. The more vague she is, the more he realizes that what he's beginning to suspect is likely true. He jokes with her to cover up that he's beginning to understand what's happened and what does he say? He jokes that he hopes that he's her *favorite*, a line of dialogue that he uses when hugging Loki and looking at another version of Loki in Sylvie. What does this mean? It means that while Mobius didn't know that all the agents are variants who were kidnapped from their timelines until Loki told him-- and we know that's the case because we saw him steal Ravonna's Temppad to watch the proof of it that he needed to see for it to be true, even if it was clear that he believed Loki when he was told of it-- Mobius *did* know something already at the start of the show: he knew that he had been reset.

He knew he was not the first version of Mobius that had existed.

That first version was the man he couldn't remember, who had gone on other TVA missions and collected half the stuff in Ravonna's office and had whole other conversations with her where he left other drink rings and that person was just gone now to him. This? Is one of the reasons why he's so empathetic towards Loki and bends over backwards so much to give Loki another chance at being the person he wants to be-- because Mobius himself has been doing that too, in secret. He probably blames Ravonna more than the TVA as a whole at that point-- he turns on the TVA more after he discovers that the agents are all variants-- but it's also why he's willing to take more risks and do things like bring Loki in to help because he identifies with him. Mobius has figured out that he was Ravonna's other agent but he knows that if he ever said that aloud or led Ravonna to think that he had realized it, she would reset him again or prune him and Mobius doesn't want to die. Ravonna tests him frequently with that pen, in particular-- it's either tied to who Mobius was in his timeline or it's something he brought back from before he was reset. She's looking for any signs that Mobius has remembered any of the resetting or any of his life from before. Mobius pretends that he doesn't but he does remember who he was before he was reset into who he is now-- at least enough to know that he was reset in the first place.

Another clue to this? When he rescues Loki from the judge in the courtroom, he's saving him from undergoing the same fate he previously did. There are only two options that we saw-- don't take a ticket (and so prove that you are not pliable and of no use to the TVA) and you get pruned to The Void. Take a ticket (and so prove that you have potential to follow orders) and the judge sentences you and then you get "reset"-- have your memories wiped & be turned into a TVA agent. That was about to happen to Loki when Mobius ran in but look at what Mobius said to him about it. Loki asked if he was taking him somewhere to kill him and Mobius said no, that that's where Loki just was. But think about that for a second-- it was clear that Loki had passed enough of the ticket test that he wasn't going to get pruned to The Void.

If Mobius at that point thought, like most do, that pruning = death, then Mobius would know that Loki had already saved himself from that by taking the ticket. So what is the "death" that Loki would have faced instead, if Mobius hadn't saved him? Mobius knows now what it is because he knows it happened to him before. He saved Loki from having his memory wiped and this version of himself from being killed by the TVA. Just as he's giving Loki another chance to embrace the moment and be whoever he wants to be, Mobius is also trying to do the same thing for himself. Whoever he was is gone now, in some ways, and Mobius can't even remember the missions he went on before, the trophies he brought back to the woman who killed who he was before and made him yet another version of himself. He struggles with what it is to be *him*-- an individual in the midst of similar copies-- and to have an identity of his own... just like Loki does.

Then, Loki uncovers the truth about the TVA from Sylvie and tells Mobius that all the analysts are variants-- that they were people kidnapped from their timelines to serve in the TVA-- and while Mobius does seek out the proof (and I think he also just is trying to figure out what happened to poor C-20, now realizing that she knew before the rest of them did), he believes Loki enough to seek out that proof. He instantly doesn't trust Ravonna. For a man who has spent his whole life (as far as he knows) in service to the TVA and its mission, it's a huge leap, even if he suspects Loki to be correct. The reason why he believed him so readily is because he already had reason to distrust Ravonna and the TVA brass because he already had figured out that he had been reset.

It's also possible that B-15 was also reset alongside Mobius, namely because she works with him all the time and might begin to notice that he wasn't remembering their previous missions. If there is anybody in the TVA that Mobius might have told about his suspicions that he was reset, it might be her and she could have been helping him. (For instance, who is it that tells Loki that he *has to take a ticket* in no uncertain terms? Why does B-15 care if he does or doesn't? What was it to her if they pruned Loki at that point? He was just another variant. Unless Mobius, whom she trusts and is her friend, told her to do everything she could to keep Loki alive in there long enough for him to get there.) So, there's a slight possibility that B-15 knows she and Mobius were reset but I also think he probably didn't tell anybody and if B-15 was helping Loki in the courtroom, it was just because Mobius asked her to.

Which means that Mobius has been wanting to fuck with the TVA a bit-- or at least annoy Ravonna-- for awhile, hence his willingness to go traipse around with Loki. His whole of the word "favorite" though is more loaded than it seems. When he says it with Ravonna, it's a dry joke only he really gets. He's flirty, he's joking with her that he hopes that she likes him more than this other analyst guy who is bringing back these other trophies for her. He makes it sound like a romantic rivalry between him and her other time-hopping Indiana Jones. Mobius at this point *knows that other analyst is himself* when he's saying this but he can't let her know that he knows, so he pretends it's a whole other person, and not a previous sense of himself that she has tried to erase and reset into a version of himself that he wants. Worse, Ravonna *never answers him*-- she never tells Mobius that he is her favorite. She talks about their friendship being uncommon and keeps trying to gaslight Mobius into believing that they have a thing between them that is exclusive to them when Mobius knows damn right well that she had him mind-murdered and he can't trust her. So, even this reset version of Mobius gets the run-around from cold fish Ravonna.

So, when Mobius is then in a moment where he's saying goodbye to the god he loves who is on a paralleling journey to his own, in terms of trying to be the best version of himself he can be with the single chance he has left, he says "you're my favorite" in such a way that while he is saying it, in a whisper, to the Loki in his arms, he's looking at Sylvie when he says it and that's intentional. He respects Sylvie, whose end goal isn't to do harm so much as to free the imprisoned and whose determination to that end is freeing Mobius more than he had previously thought possible, and he loves Loki-- and he's determined to not have them feel what he feels with Ravonna. He wants them to know they are both good as they are, that they can be their own selves and don't need to be more than just the best versions of themselves that they can be. Ravonna makes multiple copies of Mobius and tries to strip him of his sense of self and he's been fighting back quietly, recognizing the same type of fight in all of the Lokis that he meets, taking in their various issues with stride because he just admires all of it and feels a kinship to it. Telling Loki and Sylvie "you're my favorite" is a way of giving them what he hasn't had for himself, which is a sense that he's fine the way he is and he's loved and enough and who he is as a person-- the same traits that make him a good agent-- are not inherently subversive in a bad way or wrong... and if you read that last sentence and realized that Loki is then the perfect person to love Mobius, I agree. :)