#sorry to be a downer in the tags lmao

[tickle-bugs]

Hellooo! If prompts are still open can I request some ticklish loki? :) maybe the prompt “ you’re not ticklish? Really now? Lets see about that”

Or somethin, feel free to improvise :))) teehee

Thank you so much!

In Fond Memory

Summary: As an analyst, Mobius's knowledge of Loki comes from stale sets of data. He wants to know more about his partner. Loki decides to take them on a tour of his memories...to interesting results. Pre-relationship to confessing Lokius!

This got wildly out of hand. We're a little over 6k words. Not super happy with this fic, but I'd been sitting on it for too long to start over. Have the long-simmering origin story of Loki's eighth rib lmao.

The TVA cafeteria is chilled and reliably empty when Mobius and Loki take their lunch break. As usual, the break consists of Loki watching Mobius eat--both lamenting his agonizing pace and soaking in his company. 

“I know nothing about you.” Mobius takes a thoughtful bite of his salad. His non-sequiturs phase Loki less and less these days. They make an interesting pair, he thinks--a fallen god burdened with caring and a mustached auditor who speaks only in riddles. 

“I thought you knew everything about me.” Loki huffs. 

“More like bits and pieces. I know little factoids. What makes you tick.” Mobius points at Loki with his fork, a tomato skewered on the end. 

“So then you know what you need?” Loki plucks the tomato off the fork and pops it in his mouth. It crunches beautifully. 

“Well, I mean, I’d like to know more. If a certain someone would like to share with the class.” Mobius replaces the stolen tomato with a pointed stare. 

“You are terrible at asking for what you want.” Loki steals a crouton from Mobius’s salad. 

“Yeah? Pot, meet kettle,” Mobius chuckles, wiping his hands. Loki smiles, but the thought rattles around in his brain. Mobius makes so much noise, truly. Noise about morals and fixing things, about proving himself better than the TVA believes him to be--useless, frivolous noise. 

Compelling noise.

“Fine.” Loki sniffs. He holds out his open hand. 

“Fine…What?” Mobius raises his eyebrows. 

“Your TemPad.” Loki wiggles his fingers insistently. Mobius stares at him, clearly calculating the risk, and then slides his TemPad into the waiting palm. Loki balances the weight of his past smoothly in one hand--he’d expected the TemPad to fall heavier with a sense of occasion. He frowns at it.

These little reminders that he’s not special—significant, really…they start to grate on him after a while. 

“You don’t have to do this, Loki.” Mobius’s voice is worn smooth by something like fondness. It’s compelling to the cowardice still within him, but Mobius will stop looking at him like that if he doesn’t at least try. 

Loki fiddles with the device until the clock hands on Ms. Minutes’s digital face spin rapidly backwards. A portal of orange light opens beside the table. 

“Shall we?” Loki gestures. He can’t quite make eye contact. 

…….

They stride through the door to Old Asgard’s throne room in all its glittering glory, when its majesty seemed untouchable by the whims of war and time. Mobius gapes at the high ceilings and intricate stonework with a wide grin. It’s cute, stupidly so, but then the grand doors open yet again and Loki’s hackles raise.

He pulls Mobius behind one of the grand pillars and puts his finger to his lips. 

“They can’t see us, Loki. It’s a memory—“

Loki clamps a hand over Mobius’s mouth. Mobius rolls his eyes. He’s right, of course he is, but the survivalist in him can’t take the risk. Not with Odin. 

A younger Loki, toothy and tiny, races up to Asgard’s great throne. He stops before the giant steps, cradling something in a bright red cloth. Odin heaves a great sigh. 

“Father, look! I got my spell to work!” Young Loki carefully holds up the bundle. The fabric falls away to reveal a bulbous little frog with stark blue eyes. It blinks each eye separately.

“What is this?” Odin looks down upon the creature with disdain. 

“It’s Thor.” Young Loki beams. The frog leaps onto his shoulder, then his head, and ribbits triumphantly. He laughs. 

“Bring my son back to me at once!” Odin hisses fiercely. 

“But—“

“Now!” Odin’s shout still tears something open in Loki all these years later. He flinches back into Mobius. The younger Loki does the same, but there’s no one to hold him. 

With a shaky voice, he murmurs an incantation and folds Frog Thor back into the fabric. He tosses the bundle ahead of him and, in a flash of green, a young and shiny Thor stumbles on newly human legs. He’s shorter--still taller than Loki, as he always was--and rounder in the cheeks, but he’s the unmistakable spitting image of his father. His cape, no longer frog-sized, unfurls to brush his ankles. 

“Woo! Loki, that was awesome!” Thor cheers. He pulls young Loki in for a sweeping, spinning hug. His boyish giggles are infectious--soon young Loki joins in, clinging to his brother to keep from falling. 

“Get out.” Odin seethes. The throne room doors slam open, echoing his command. 

“Father--” Thor tries, but one icy look from Odin silences him. He immediately bends the knee, so small that his cape nearly swallows him whole. Young Loki looks at him in disbelief, but when he reaches for his brother, Odin clasps his gloved hand around the shaft of Gungnir, the Spear of Heaven. 

Young Loki stumbles backwards, then flees, scrambling right by his older self without a thought. Loki turns his eye to Odin, the golden sack of shit, and scowls. 

“Come,” Loki says hollowly, following himself outside. He doesn’t look back. He knows Mobius is with him. 

He walks the familiar grounds but the stone doesn’t remember him. The sky is too bright, the torches too warm--this is a childhood preserved in amber. It’s too clear to be real. He passes his hand through the braziers, bitterly amused by the way the flame clings to his fingers. It’s not hot. 

Loki finds his younger self exactly where he expects him to be—no amount of years could erase that instinct to hide, to wait, to be forgotten until he could emerge again. The child is tucked between a pillar and one of the giant braziers, his dark clothes lending themselves as camouflage. 

Young Loki didn’t have that fire in him, yet. The scorn of being lesser. He was still naive, still thought Odin’s love was a real, attainable thing. 

“Loki?” Frigga approaches. Loki looks up at his mother’s face for the first time in years, but she peers directly through him. He steps aside as she approaches his younger self. When the child doesn’t answer, she crouches in front of him. It’s unbecoming of a Queen, but she’d never cared much about that. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” Frigga takes his younger copy’s face into her hands. She wipes away his tears with her thumbs and his skin briefly shimmers its natural blue. 

“Father, he…” Young Loki shakes his head, retreats further. “I upset him.”

“Oh.” She swipes more tears from his face. “Let us spend the day together, hm? I have new tricks to show you.”

The child allows his mother to lead him away, down onto the giant lawn beneath the terrace. Loki watches them go, the bitter sting of grief still raw, even after all this time. 

“My mother was…is everything to me.” Loki sniffs. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. It’s selfish to miss her, but he’s a selfish wretch. 

“She seems like a wonderful woman.” Mobius’s hand is warm on Loki’s shoulder. He leans into it. 

“Extraordinary. There’s no one like her.” He leads them over to a bench on the terrace, one that overlooks the most spectacular view of the palace lawns and waters beyond. He watches his younger self fling bursts of magic back and forth with his mother. 

“Can I ask you a silly question?” Mobius turns to face Loki better. Loki raises his brow. 

“Are you still…blue? Under here?” Mobius gestures at Loki’s face. “I’m not too sure about how this magic stuff works. It’s fascinating.”

Loki barks out an embarrassing laugh and does his best to rein it in, but surprise still leaves him chuckling. Mobius looks at him like…well, he’s not entirely sure what that look is. No one’s looked at him so softly before. 

“I was raised Asgardian, but the nature of changing forms is…fickle. Do it too much and you lose sight of where you start.” He turns his hand over, back and forth, and his skin glimmers blue. Mobius takes his hand, wrinkling his nose slightly at the cold. 

“That’s awful wise of you.” Mobius squeezes his fingers. 

“I like to think I have my moments.” Loki smiles. Mobius holds out the TemPad to him. Loki pushes a few things on it, opening another portal. They step through it with lighter hearts. 

…

What greets them is not the stale brutalism and dizzying expanse of the TVA cafeteria, but the very same terrace, gleaming in summer sun.

“Okay, so this…isn’t headquarters.” Mobius gestures. Loki scowls. He presses a bunch of buttons at random. The machine beeps at him. The animated Ms. Minutes icon sticks her tongue out at him. He scoffs. 

“I noticed.” He slaps the TemPad into Mobius’s hands. Mobius stares at him, plainly amused, and Loki scowls harder. 

“Well? Fix it.” Loki turns towards the lawn to lessen the weight of Mobius’s gaze.

A great shout rings out across the green, utterly unmistakeable, and Loki runs up to the terrace railing. Sif and the Warriors Three mill about on the lawn, their chatting only perceptible by Volstagg’s loud and grating laughter. 

“Brothers, please. I need some help!” Thor’s voice cuts clear and desperate through the air. He can’t be far past coming of age--he’s taken on all those distinctive features that won’t budge as he grows. His hair sweeps his shoulders the same way his cape sweeps his ankles. He supports a drooping teenage Loki as they stumble towards the trio. 

On the terrace, Loki’s eyes widen. He squints at where Thor is hauling his younger self--yep, the little shit is definitely alive and well. Which means only one thing. 

“What’s all the commotion?” Mobius shades his eyes from the sun and looks out towards the fields. 

“Did you fix it?” Loki snaps impatiently, gesturing for the TemPad. 

“Hm?” Mobius blinks. “Yeah. What’s happenin’ down there, though?”

Loki snatches the TemPad and punches in whatever he can. A wave of orange energy ripples over and through them with a loud woosh. Loki opens his eyes to….

The same field. The same day. He’s actually managed to put them forward in time. Just splendid. 

“Get help!” Thor spins and launches his Loki like a shotput. He barrels straight through Sif and Fandral. Their mingled screams of surprise and displeasure ring out. Thor cackles, doubling over, as Sif chases Loki around the field. 

On the terrace, Loki buries his rapidly heating face in his hands. Mobius snickers up a storm beside him. He leans into him for support. 

“Get help?” Mobius wheezes, eyes wet with mirth. Loki’s chest flutters and his face progresses into full redness. 

“It was…a phase. An ill-advised distraction--”

“Seems to me like you used it plenty. One of your variants did that with Thor on Sakaar.” Mobius wipes his eyes and flicks the tears away, grin still splitting his face in two. 

“Shut up.” Loki groans into his hands until silence falls. He can feel Mobius’s keen eyes on the side of his face. He hopes for a random bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery. 

“You’ve changed, y’know.” Mobius bumps their shoulders together. 

“Have I?” Loki drawls, mostly unamused. The sincerity on Mobius’s face makes it hard to keep up the act. 

“You willingly showed me an embarrassing memory! You’ve changed plenty.” 

“I wouldn’t say…willingly,” Loki grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“You and I both know you can fight a lot harder than that. This is growth, Loki. It’s good for ya.” Mobius pats his shoulder. Loki hums in acknowledgment.

“Careful, Mobius. I might start to think you’re fond of me.” Loki smiles teasingly. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius chuckles and squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”

…

Another flash of orange, another failure to return to the TVA. Loki contains the urge to scream. 

“Where are we now?” Mobius puts his hands on his hips. 

“…I don’t know.” Loki frowns, turning in place. 

“That’s generally not good.” Mobius quips. Loki makes a snarky, incoherent noise at him as he takes in their surroundings.

Vaulted wood ceilings, immaculate stone walls, and green silks welcome them. Atop a giant fireplace, a regal painting of Loki leers at them, foxlike and empty-eyed. He cringes and turns away from it. He briefly considers throwing himself down on the green velvet divan and smothering himself in the throw pillows. 

“We’re on Asgard, certainly, and this is my room, but….” 

The doors fly open of their own accord and the hearth flares. A brunette with a strong build strides through the doors, their fingertips dripping with red motes of light. They’re clad in reds reminiscent of the magic--flowing fabrics gathered neatly under bits of strong leather armor. With a twist of their wrist, the leather breastplate falls away and arranges itself on a stand, right next to a stand with his own armor on it. 

“Who is this handsome devil?” Mobius raises his eyebrows and elbows Loki, but he is far too windswept at the sight of them. 

“Signy,” Loki breathes. 

“Who?” Mobius furrows his brow. 

The doors fly open yet again. A past version of Loki enters in similar dramatic fashion. It’s uncanny to see himself like this. Signy turns their gaze sharply towards him. The fire once again flares in the hearth. 

“Hello, darling.” Signy purrs, pulling Past Loki in for a kiss. They drink him in possessively, as if he’s going to evaporate without their claiming touch. He leans into it as much as he can without drowning. When they pull apart, they murmur to one another, low enough for the fire to swallow their words. 

“Ah, I see.” The bitterness in Mobius’s tone pushes Loki to clarify. 

“They were wonderful, but their jealousy often got to them. For all our happiness, we made each other worse over time.” Loki whispers conspiratorially, but Mobius doesn’t seem entertained. 

Signy and his past self begin to raise their voices, yelling at each other in an incomprehensible tumble of Asgardian. Mobius’s brow knits in concern. 

“Were you always this…loud?” Mobius frowns. Loki swallows the joke he wants to make.

“Like I said, we made each other worse. Much worse. We were betrothed all of two months before they tried to assassinate me.” Loki pulls back his shirt collar to reveal a thin, curved scar on his neck. 

“Assassinate—what?” Mobius touches it and Loki shivers. 

“It’s fine, Mobius. My Signy had naught but poison in their soul. This one seems…kinder.” Loki watches as they take his past self’s hands to stop him from wringing his tunic. 

“How is that fine—“ 

Their voices escalate into a tumble of shouting. Concern morphs into frustration and confusion. Why does Mobius even care? It happened, he survived, whatever—

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. His past self is…staring at him.

Loki squints at his past self and he squints back. Loki looks over his shoulder, then back at his past self, who is suddenly beginning to behave less like a memory and more like a—

“Variant,” Loki breathes. He opens his mouth to shout, but—

The variant disappears in a gentle flash of green light. Fuck.

“I think you just got outsmarted by yourself.” Mobius hums. Loki whips around, panic starting to bubble in his chest. 

“You said this was a memory.”

“It’s supposed to be.” Mobius rubs his chin. “With all the buttons you pushed, it’s possible that you sent us to a branch instead of a projection of your history. I’ll take a look at it.”

“Loki.” Signy eyes him carefully. They take him in with warm, red eyes that crackle with the hearth. 

“Heyyy…Signy.” Loki gestures awkwardly. Mobius snorts. 

“Darling, I apologize. You’re under much pressure.  I shouldn’t add to it.” Signy wraps their arms around Loki’s shoulders and pulls him close. He knows he should derive some comfort from it—he hasn’t been hugged in years—but it feels more like a creature pulling him into its clutches. Their fingers glide over the scar and Loki snatches their hand. 

“I’m…also sorry.” Loki pats their arm awkwardly and tries to worm out of their grip. 

“No need, my blade.” Signy presses in closer, cradling his cheek. Mobius snickers at the nickname off to the side.

“Don’t.” Loki, blushing, points an accusatory finger at Mobius. He holds his hands up, the perfect picture of innocence. 

“I think you’re lovely, but I’m not…your Loki.” He puts his hand over theirs. Their face pinches sharply. The fire kicks up. 

“You are beyond ungrateful. You are mine. I made you.” Signy grips his chin and forces him to look at them. Loki presses his lips into a line. 

“Signy—“

“Perhaps you need a reminder.” They press their hand to Loki’s side, right over the ribs on his right side. He panics and grabs for their hand. A tiny green spark jumps from his fingers, but it cannot stop the pulse of scarlet magic that wriggles deep into his skin. The magic snaps into cords, winding like puppet strings around one of his ribs. 

A strangled sound slips from him before he can stop himself. A terrible, toe-curling tickle—a powerful scritching like the blunt end of a quill over the bone—sends him clutching at Signy’s shoulders for dear life. 

“We are each other’s undoing. There is no you without me.” Signy pulls sharply on the threads of red light and Loki yelps.

“Oh.”

“Mobius—“

“Oh my god.” Mobius makes a noise that can only be described as a squeak of delight. Loki flips him off. 

“Even when I’m right in front of you, you cast your attention elsewhere.” Signy turns Loki’s jaw toward them, eyes darkening possessively, but their lips curl up in that damn smile that had drawn Loki back in over and over. 

There was a time when he’d daydreamed about Signy by his side on the throne. Now, he can’t fathom it. 

“You’re mine, Loki.” Signy tweaks their fingers, manipulating their magic, and Loki chokes down a screech. He laces his fingers into theirs and the magic blissfully vanishes. 

“Yes, yours. Mobius, help.” Loki casts a frantic look in his direction, gesturing at Signy. Mobius makes a ‘stall’ motion, then starts fiddling with the TemPad. 

“Look at me.” Signy pulls sharply on his tie. They sigh deeply, and their edge begins to wane. 

“Thanos has you dreaming of more, my love. I want more for you. But have you not enough here? Am I not enough?” Signy smooths their hands down Loki’s chest. He freezes.

“Thanos?” He asks quietly. Dread sinks into his gut. Signy’s expression softens.

“I know that you crave what you are owed. Your family has robbed you of your birthright. You are meant for greatness, Loki, but not at the cost of his greed. Asgard is yours for the taking. By my hand, you shall have it.” Signy leans their foreheads together. He squirrels away as much of this momentary comfort that he can. 

“Why would you help me?”

“Have you contracted your brother’s oafishness?” Signy playfully holds their hand to his forehead as if checking for fever. “I love you, you fool.” 

“Oh.” He blinks. He looks towards Mobius and finds him with a haunting expression, like some sort of ache had burrowed forth into his face. A suffocating hollowness crawls through Loki’s chest. He swallows thickly. 

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Signy curls their fingers beneath his chin. He laughs softly, involuntarily, and flinches away. Mischief and embers dance in Signy’s eyes. 

“My, you are…handsier than I remember.” Loki twists out of their grip. 

“Can you blame me?” They appear behind him in a scattering of red sparks. Warm hands wrap around his waist, tracing feather-light shapes that seem to burrow into his skin. He chokes on a quiet, suspiciously giggly sound and they light up.

Mobius scoffs and clears his throat loudly. His scowl seems baked into his face, a chilling force against the fireplace. 

“Okay, so I’ve got good news and bad news. Which one do you wanna hear?”

“Bad news first.” Loki wrestles with Signy’s roaming hands. Signy trips and tumbles backward onto the divan, scattering the pillows. They start tugging at Loki to try and get him to follow. 

“Your collar is broken. Kaput. S’probably why your variant was able to escape. TemPad can’t get a read on which one of you is real. You also MemLocked us, which is fascinating—“

“I’m sure it is,” Loki huffs, fighting to leverage Signy under him. Mobius barrels on. 

“MemLock allows us to manipulate a branch as if it were a memory, but the tech is volatile, so we rarely use it. It is neat though. Lets us walk right through as if we were invisible. Shame it ain’t workin’ on you.” Mobius snaps his fingers next to Signy’s face. They don’t seem to notice. 

“And the good news?” 

“I can probably fix it.” Mobius smacks the back of the TemPad and a panel pops out the side of it. He starts fiddling with the components. 

“Probably?” Loki’s voice cracks. 

“Well, I don’t wanna take the wrong Loki back with me. That’d be a fiasco. Though Signy—“ Mobius draws out their name with disdain— “probably wouldn’t even notice.” 

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Mobius.” Loki’s joking, but Mobius’s eyes don’t light up the way they usually do. 

“Y’know, far as I recall, you got yourself stuck in this mess. You should be thanking me for helping you.” Mobius puts his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head with a smile, easy and mischievous. Loki lobs a throw pillow at him.

Mobius punches something into the TemPad and, with a glorious beep, Loki’s collar disengages and clatters to the floor. Mobius scoops up the collar gently, letting the straps dangle between his fingers. 

“I’m keeping track of what you owe me.” His half-smile is somewhat dim. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Loki breathes. Mobius nods sharply and turns towards the door. 

It’s an unfortunate distraction, one that lets Signy discover they can buckle his knees if they tickle him there, but Loki can think of nothing else but the reflection of the firelight on Mobius’s cheek. 

…

Mobius ducks quietly into the hall, shutting the chamber door behind him. The stone floors eagerly amplify his footsteps, tired of its own quiet. 

It’s unsettling, this place. People don’t seem to live here as much as they haunt it. Mobius can see how Loki turned out the way he did. It sets loose an ache in him. 

“Stop.” 

Mobius turns around with his hands raised. The variant twirls a dagger in his hands. He’s clad only in a green shirt and soft pants, his feet bare against the cool stone floors. This Loki is duller—he’s exhausted around the eyes in a way Mobius’s Loki isn’t. 

His Loki. Hm.

“Who are you?” 

“I’m afraid that doesn’t concern you, Your Highness,” Mobius says calmly. Loki disappears in a flash of green and reappears behind Mobius. 

“I could have you executed.” Loki’s dagger materializes across the plane of Mobius’s throat. Mobius tips his head back slightly to avoid the sharp edge. 

“I’m not scared of you, Loki.” He says it firmly, even as his skin prickles at the kiss of the blade. 

“Maybe you should be,” he snarls lowly, his lips brushing Mobius’s ear. Mobius flinches away. He kicks himself for it--Loki follows him easily with morbid interest. 

“Aren’t you curious about what I know?” Mobius hums. Silence stretches down the long hall. There’s a suspicious lack of guards in this wing. Is Loki’s chamber not worth protecting?

“You have a…clone of me. Why?” The blade presses in again. Mobius takes a careful, measured breath. 

“He’s my companion. We took a bit of a tumble, ended up in the wrong place.” A smile quirks at Mobius’s lips. Loki doesn’t look as confused as he thought he might—more…thoughtful. 

“Wrong place being?”

“That I can’t tell you. I can tell you that we’re trying to leave. If you don’t mind.” Mobius puts two fingers on the dagger and gently pushes it away from his throat. Loki releases Mobius but keeps his blade leveled at him. He’s tired, so tired, Mobius can see it in his bones. His eyes, dark-rimmed, seem frightened of closing. 

“You, uh…” Mobius pauses, taking in Loki’s twitchiness-- “I noticed you tryin’ to escape your beau in there. Signy, right?”

Loki stiffens at the utterance of their name. The blade remains steadfastly pointed at Mobius’s throat. 

“They ever hurt you?” Mobius clenches his jaw. Loki eyes him warily. 

“No. Never. Never.” The blade wavers with Loki’s voice. “But we don’t…agree on many things.”

“Well, I think you could do better. For the record.” Mobius steps forward—how could he not? But Loki’s knife and hackles meet him. He stops. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them you said so.” The fingers on Loki’s other hand twitch, glowing the faintest green. 

“You fancy making a deal, Your Highness?” Mobius sticks his hands in his pockets. He tries to keep his demeanor light, but he clasps his hand around the collar where it’s hidden. 

“I’m listening.” Loki shifts his fingers on the dagger’s hilt. 

“My Loki and I will distract Signy for you if you stay with us long enough for us to secure an exit.” Mobius jerks a thumb in the direction he came from. Loki follows the movement with his eyes. 

“All you require is my presence?”

“That and preferably that you refrain from using that toothpick of yours. Rather fond of my Loki.” Mobius inclines his head towards the knife. A wealth of emotions flickers across Loki’s face--he’s always been terrible at hiding his feelings, it seems. He tries to steel himself back into something sharp, but it just turns…sad. 

Loki lowers his blade. He loosens his fingers and it falls, but it vanishes before it hits the ground. 

“I agree to your terms.” Loki sniffs sharply, once again locating his arrogance.

“Excellent. Shall we?” Mobius gestures. Loki nods. They stroll back towards the bedchamber, relishing in the quiet comfort of their footsteps falling in line. 

“What are you to him? To me?” Loki’s voice goes soft. Mobius is usually quite adept at compartmentalizing, but it escapes him at this moment. 

“I’m not sure.” Mobius swallows. It’s easier not to think about it. 

“But you’re fond of him, as you said.” Loki sweeps closer, a familiar teasing grin playing across his lips. 

“I am.” Mobius huffs. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“The honor’s all yours, mortal.” Loki tilts his head, his smile growing wider. Mobius rolls his eyes. 

…

Mobius opens the door for the variant and they’re greeted by a wall of noise. Loki screams bloody murder and Signy yells over him in Asgardian, their sharp fingernails plucking at his ribs. They’ve switched positions, with Signy expertly pinning and tickling Loki down into the divan. 

The variant snickers, covering his mouth to hide it, but Mobius’s ears have long-since been tuned to his partner’s laugh. Interestingly enough, Signy looks up too. They furrow their brow as if searching for something, eyes glazing right past their variant, and then return to taking Loki apart.

An idea prickles at the back of Mobius’s mind. 

“You.” Loki shouts from the tip of his toes. His hair is a frizzy, disheveled mess. The variant goes to run, but Mobius scruffs him by the collar.

“You okay over there?” Mobius calls. Loki’s red face grows redder. He points angrily at the variant. 

“Come take your place, you sniveling little brat—“ Loki hisses, but he’s cut off by Signy tickling his waist. The most hysterical little giggles slip free and he buckles under them. 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. That weakness is your plague to bear, not mine.” The variant’s regret is all mocking. 

It’s a stupid idea, but it’s an insistent one—the longer Mobius gazes at this variant, the more he finds that he can’t let it go.

“Sorry, just to clarify—you’re not ticklish?” Mobius doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. The variant eyes him stubbornly. 

“No. I’m not a child.” Oh, but like with every Loki, his eyes betray him. 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Mobius regards him thoughtfully. The variant turns a lovely pink. “Then, would you mind asking Signy to release my friend? Seeing as they pose no threat to you.”

Mobius crowds in closer. The variant pulls his dagger. Mobius tuts at him and pushes it away. The dagger’s point makes gentle, insistent contact with his stomach.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” the variant snaps, but Mobius stands before him un-stabbed. 

“Sure it was. I said we would distract Signy.” Mobius smirks. “Just never said that you were part of the distraction.”

God, Loki is really rubbing off on him. 

“I’ve been told I’m quite stabbable, if you’re not amenable.” Mobius gestures to the dagger between them. The variant shifts his fingers on the hilt. 

“D-Don’t you dare touch him!” Loki pipes up through gritted teeth. He’s managed to pin Signy underneath him, but judging by his twitching, they’re not quite done with him.

Mobius grins at him. Loki makes an endearing little pinchy face and refuses to meet his eyes. The variant takes the chance to try and slink away, but Mobius grabs his wrist. The dagger disappears in a flare of green sparks. 

In a slick maneuver, Mobius loops the collar around the variant’s neck and it magnetically fastens. It beeps in confirmation of acquiring its target. 

“What is this?” He hisses, tugging at it. He flexes his fingers, calling for the dagger, and nothing happens.

“Just a bit of insurance. Now, would you like to deal with them—“ Mobius gestures to where Signy is wreaking havoc— “or me?” 

“I’m sure there’s a third option.” The variant chuckles almost nervously. His eyes dart around for an escape. 

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Mobius sighs deeply, as if it pains him. The variant’s eyes widen, and—

There it is. A flicker of thrill. 

“If you think you can stand to a god, I welcome you to try.” The variant spreads his arms wide. Mobius puts his hands on his hips. He’s never considered himself a particularly great fighter, but he prides himself on knowing his targets well. For example, he knows that nearly every Loki lacks small-scale patience. If he just waits…

The variant snarls and charges. Mobius ducks past him and loops his arms around his torso. 

Any Loki is deadly with or without their magic, but thankfully Mobius doesn’t have to worry about killing him. Or harming him at all, for that matter.

The variant lets out a confused, almost-offended squeak, like a kitten being bested. Before he can speak, Mobius starts clumsily tickling him. The resulting stilted laughter is interspersed with threats he can’t understand--both for being peppered with giggles and incoherent Asgardian. The variant tries to headbutt him in a way that doesn’t seem entirely on purpose. Mobius dodges predictable flying elbows and waits.

Over on the divan, Loki’s mostly given up. He’s wheezing more than anything, more focused on hiding himself from view than doing anything helpful. The quiet allows for the variant’s patchwork laughter to carry, just as Mobius hoped. He folds on a particularly powerful guffaw and Mobius follows him with a snort. S’cute, sometimes, the ways in which they’re the same. 

Signy’s gaze snaps up. Loki squirms out from underneath them and darts to the other side of the room, clutching his side. He makes eye contact with Mobius. His gaze is so full of sheer fondness that Mobius has to look away. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The variant tries to back up. Mobius squeezes his side and he yelps.  

“How’d you get over there?” Signy narrows their eyes. 

“Suppose I’m quicker than you.” The variant falls immediately into his role, ever the Loki. Mobius curls his finger into the collar and it disengages. The variant whirls on him, but then Signy starts to stalk across the room. 

“We’ll see about that, love.” Signy’s tongue curls sharply around the word. The variant bolts for the door. Signy laughs and chases after them. Their footsteps echo down the empty hall and carry them both from sight. 

A wave of green magic slams the door shut so hard that it rattles in its frame. Loki hefts a bookshelf in front of the door, then a heavy chest, then about every piece of furniture he’s capable of moving in the room. He slumps down onto the divan with a heavy sigh. Mobius hovers by his side, shoving his hand in his pocket so he doesn’t start fiddling with the disheveled bits of Loki’s appearance. 

“Well, come on then.” Loki bares his throat with an impatient gesture. There’s an imprinted red line where the collar usually sits. Mobius runs his thumb over it, gently, and Loki scrunches his nose with a smile. The sight is so lovely that Mobius spaces out a bit. 

“You are cruel and terrible, you know that?” Loki grumbles. Mobius remembers himself and tries not to savor the brush of Loki’s jaw against his fingers. He holds the transmitter box of the collar to Loki’s throat, scooting it around a bit in search of a signal. Loki twitches. 

“Mmm, just the worst. Stay still, will ya?” He huffs. Something in Loki’s collar clicks and the TemPad chirps a jolly tune. Both of them sigh in relief. 

Mobius punches in a few things and the familiar orange door opens up before them. He looks down at the collar in his hand, then shoves it deep into his pocket. Loki makes a soft noise. 

“Why?” He blinks almost innocently. Mobius swallows. 

“You wanna go back or not?” He juts his thumb towards the portal. Loki pulls him through as if it’s going to disappear. 

…

They have duties to complete, but living so many years in a day has thoroughly eroded what tiny sense of duty Loki has. His mind is abuzz with various iterations of he trusts me--a new and exciting thought--and it leaves him with zero desire to do anything but sit in Mobius’s presence like a flower in the sun. 

So, when Mobius heads for the library, Loki hooks their arms together and drags them towards the cafeteria. Responsible grumbling turns into fond chuckles, and soon enough, they’re assembling God's mistake: frozen yogurt.

They enjoy their spoils on a bench deep in the massive sprawl of the TVA. The complex sprawls out infinitely before them, twinkling in the abyss. It’s a prettier sight than this place deserves, but Loki can only pay attention to the unnatural strawberry hue of Mobius’s lips. 

“This is awful,” Mobius laughs, cringing through a spoonful of frozen-solid chocolate chips. 

“It’s perfect. Completely mediocre in every way. Humanity’s only worthwhile creation.” Loki bites a gummy worm in half with a smile. He offers the other half to Mobius and he takes it.

Loki thinks of Signy, of the look of muddled pain on Mobius’s face through the entire back half of their misadventure, and he cringes. Mobius pauses in picking at his froyo. 

“Brainfreeze?” 

“No, not quite. I want to…apologize, Mobius.” Loki fiddles with his fingers. He looks up just in time for the back of Mobius’s hand to gently slap against his forehead, as if checking for fever. 

“You? Apologize? Maybe I did bring back the wrong Loki.”

“Hilarious, you bastard.” Loki rolls his eyes and bats away the hand. 

“Well, don’t let me get in the way of history. Say your piece.” Mobius sweeps his hands out. Loki turns to straddle the bench, facing him fully. He leans his back against the wall. The cold of the concrete leeches through his shirt. 

“Earlier, things got…out of hand. I hoped if I showed you my past, you might find some detail, some tiny minutiae that would set me apart from the other variants. But, I suppose nothing you saw surprised you.” Loki runs his fingers over his throat, right where the collar usually sat. He felt lighter without it and, strangely, more exposed. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Mobius mumbles around a strawberry piece. 

“I spent my life chasing after destiny. Everyone in my family had a grand purpose to fulfill, and I believed mine would be the greatest of all. Now I know that my destiny is to be disposable. The only significant thing I’m part of is the time I’ve spent here with you.” Loki pokes at his froyo with the spoon. Mobius swings to also straddle the bench, grumbling as he does, but it gets Loki’s attention. 

“I’ve got my own confession to make.” Mobius chuckles. “I don’t actually know everything about you.”

“We established this.” Loki scoops up an Oreo piece and pops it in his mouth. 

“Well, yeah, but—“ Mobius makes a series of grand gestures— “I mean, I don’t know everything about you, Loki.”

“Now you’ve said the same thing twice.” Loki frowns. Mobius makes a frustrated little noise.

“Look, you’re different. Sure, your story starts the same as the others, but you overwrote my expectations the moment we met. You are unique. You’re a unique pain in my ass, really, but…you’re a good partner. A great one.” Mobius gestures more with his spoon. 

“Go on.” Loki takes the cherry into his mouth, stem and all. A few moments later, he pulls out the stem—tied in a perfect knot. He smiles at his handiwork. 

“I’m trying to compliment you.” Mobius huffs. 

“I’m aware.” Loki grins teasingly, but the mischief caves easily under a wave of genuine joy. 

“Alright, wise guy.” Mobius narrows his eyes. A flutter of thrill picks up in Loki’s stomach, but no chase ensues. He tries not to be disappointed. 

“What I’m trying to get at—“ Mobius huffs dramatically— “is that it’s not your past that makes you. I’ve always studied you guys in patterns and matrixes. I thought a flip would switch and I’d understand how you fell into my lap instead of any other Loki. But…you defy sense. Turns out, you can bake some drastically different cakes with the same core ingredients.” 

“Careful, Mobius,” Loki says softly, so his traitorous heart doesn’t hear. “I might start to think you’re fond of me.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius smiles. 

“No, we can’t.” Loki’s eyes flit to Mobius’s lips. The air between them pulls taut. Loki scoots forward, bringing their knees to touch. 

“You have something on your face, right here. Terribly distracting.” Loki gestures to his lips. Mobius furrows his brow and pats his face with a TVA-branded napkin. Loki bats his hand aside and kisses him. It’s shorter and tamer than what his heart screams for, but he can’t dive into untested waters. Not yet. Not with something so important. 

Mobius, wide-eyed, follows Loki’s every move. He swallows once, thickly, then clears his throat. Not a single coherent word comes out of his mouth. His eyebrows move in nearly every direction as he tries to string some words together. Loki tips his chin up, catching his eyes. Mobius quiets, succumbing to a lovestruck smile.

“Did you get it?” Mobius gestures to his face. Loki laughs, knocking his head into the wall behind him. Mobius scrambles forward to catch him far too late, but they’re close. Close enough for Loki to see the pink froyo flecks actually hiding in his mustache. He smirks. 

“Hm, only one way to be sure.” He pulls Mobius in by his tie and kisses him like it's the end of times.

#my fics #loki #lokius #ticklish!loki #*sigh* #much like with my other loki fics this didn't turn out at all how i wanted. and its way too long. but i hope ppl still like it. #i love writing them so much but i struggle to write tk stuff around them. #just UGH posting it and moving on. writing is hard :( #sorry to be a downer in the tags lmao

[helpimstuckposting]

Part one | part two | part three

Artwork

—

Robin and Steve went up to sing a few more times, though Steve was still emotionally rattled a bit. Give me your phone, Eddie had said, come to the show any day this weekend, he said, just text me and I’ll come out to give you a pass. What the fuck was Steve’s life right now? Once he told Dustin about this, Steve was going to have bragging rights for the rest of their lives, the kid would never have the high ground again. No matter what his ego said.

Eddie was back at the table with his band mates. Jeff and Gareth, Eddie had introduced them. Steve was just a little bit tempted to do a Corroded Coffin song to fuck with Eddie, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off the vocals anyway. The band had refused to go up at all, said they had to rest before their show tomorrow, that causing a commotion wouldn’t be a good idea either. Steve was a little bit sad he wouldn’t get a personal show in such close quarters, that would have really made Dustin jealous. As it was, Steve could probably claim this as the kid’s birthday gift for life. Not that he would.

He was almost more excited just to tell Dustin than he was to go to the show at all. Though, he was very excited, this all still felt like a hallucination. Robin had pinched him multiple times, just to check he wasn’t dreaming. Not that he asked her to, she just did.

He couldn’t tell what Eddie was saying to his band mates, but Steve could still see the wide smile on his face, and for once Steve didn’t choke on his words or skip a breath.

Across the bar, stage lights in his eyes, he could see Eddie throw his head back and laugh - the pull of his skin making Steves mouth water. He was so drawn to Eddie, to the soft edges and eyes that held fireflies, and sure he was nervous around him, who wouldn’t be? But at this point, Steve could either not do anything and he’d never see Eddie again, or he’d shoot his shot and if Eddie rejected him the outcome would be exactly the same; Steve had nothing to lose. If he had to wrap himself just a bit in King Steve in order to finish the song calmly and walk over to Eddie, that was his business. Everyone needed armor now and again, and growing up the center of attention taught Steve exactly how to pull that armor out and engulf him.

After their song, probably the last of the night, Steve marched right up to Eddie’s table with a new-found determination. He had nothing to lose.

“Hey Eddie, can I talk to you?” He asked, lightly brushing his fingers against Eddie’s forearm. He didn’t want to grab and seem too forward or pushy, didn’t want to seem crazed or too much.

“Sure!” Eddie replied, glancing once over to his friends (who shot him mocking looks and little smirks) and leaned heavier into Steve’s touch. He followed Steve over to the dark hallway past the stage, the one leading to the bathrooms. It was a bit dingy, but perfectly quiet and out of the way for what Steve wanted to say.

Steve turned around to face the rockstar, felt closed in with him in this little space. The worst Eddie could do was take back his offer to go to the concert this weekend, that’s it. Steve kept repeating it over and over again in his mind, trying to convince himself he could really do this. Before, in school, Steve had been so cocky and so confident. It didn’t matter that Robin always told him to cool it, to humble himself, he was a Harrington, he was King Steve, all the girls wanted him and all the guys wanted to be him, it was easy.

But then a high school girlfriend, one he was genuinely serious about, had called his love bullshit. She said he wasn’t worth it, that it was all an act and their relationship was another bullshit dance their parents had pushed onto them. He never felt like King Steve after that, not really. He felt the mask and the act and the character he played but he never felt like that person again.

Here, in the back of the bar with the lights dimmed and the music from the stage dampened between the close walls, with Eddie looking at him with so much patience for someone he only met yesterday, he felt like it didn’t matter if he had the kings mask on or not. He could be Steve and that would be okay.

“Steve?” Eddie asked when Steve hadn’t said anything. His fingers trailed lightly against Steve’s forearm, gently gliding into the palm of his hand. Steve clasped onto the soft touch, turning his palm into Eddie’s.

“I was wondering how long you were going to be in town?” Steve said, his inflection pitching up into a question.

“Tuesday we’ve got another show about two hours from here. Going back to our roots, so to speak, and after that we’re back on the road,” he replied. So, four days. They had performances Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and Steve worked the weekends anyway. He could take Dustin to the show on Friday and then maybe… if Eddie was free, maybe Monday…

“Would you go to dinner with me?” Steve asked, tugging on the hand still held in his own. He pulled Eddie toward him just a step, letting the musician get closer if he wanted to. If he chose to.

Edit took a step closer, then another, the tips of their shoes stopping against one another.

“I’d love to,” he whispered between their shared space. “Does Monday night work for you?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, “Monday is perfect,” he said. “I’ll probably stop by your show tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Steve still wasn’t quite sure he was awake and not hallucinating, that he wasn’t drugged and unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere. He just wanted to double, triple and quadruple check that he was fully awake and welcome to just show up at this concert without a ticket.

“I said any day this weekend, of course you’re allowed to come tomorrow.”

“Well, sorry for kind of not believing this is actually happening after a rockstar I met yesterday said I could just show up to his concert completely unannounced without a ticket and waltz right in like some kind of famous lunatic or something!” Steve shouted a bit more than he intended to, quieting quickly and glancing around to make sure he wasn’t causing a scene.

Coast clear, his eyes darted back to Eddie who was pulling a strand of hair over his lips, and very clearly trying to hold back his laughter. Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how quickly he was thinking fondly of this rockstar, like he knew him, like was comfortable being around him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie laughed, “I promise it’s allowed. Just text me when you’re outside and you’ll be lead into the venue, okay?”

Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand just to remember the feeling.

The two groups dispersed shortly after their conversation, Steve and Robin heading back to their apartment while Eddie and his band mates went back to their hotel or bus or wherever musicians on tour stayed while in town. It was late, around 1am, but Steve couldn’t wait to tell Dustin the news. The little twerp would be awake anyway, Steve was certain.

He called the second they got back to the apartment, Dustin picking up on the second ring.

“What’s up, what’s wrong, what happened, are you okay? Is Robin okay?” He answered in a panic.

“What, I can’t call my favorite duckling just to talk?” Steve replied, trying to lighten the mood so Dustin wasn’t worried.

“Duckling? Steve what the fuck, it’s one in the morning!”

He rolled his eyes, though Dustin couldn’t see, “oh what, like you were asleep? Tell Suzie I say hi.”

“Hi, Steve!” a soft voice crackled through the line. Dustin and Suzie always FaceTimed until one of them passed out, talking about nerd things until some ungodly hour. He smirked down the line.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why are you calling?”

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this, Buddy, are you sitting? Are you planted firmly on your ass?”

“My ass is firm,” Dustin joked back, a small ‘very firm’ chirped in the background.

“I… did not need to know that, never ever say that to me ever again. I hate you so much.”

Steve could practically hear Dustin rolling his eyes over the speaker. The kid was predictable, Steve could probably guess his every move on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the love of your life, what do you want? Why do I have to be sitting?”

“Robin is the love of my life and you know it,” Steve said. He took a deep breath, preparing to give the best news of Dustin’s life. “So you know that band you’re obsessed with?”

“Do I know the band I’m obsessed with? Yes, Steve, I know Corroded Coffin.”

“Okay, you keep up this little attitude of yours and I won’t tell you I just got tickets for their show tomorrow,” Steve blurted out. He was half expecting Dustin to continue through more arguments about his attitude, completely bypassing what Steve just said. Of course, Dustin was never one to miss the important information.

It was silent on the other end.

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear, waiting a few seconds before the inevitable scream from the other end. He could hear Dustin yelling back and forth between asking Steve questions and relaying the information to Suzie. He wasn’t loud enough to hear any actual words or questions, but there was no way in hell Steve was going to put the phone back to his ear with Dustin going berserk on the line. He didn’t want to ruin his hearing before even stepping foot inside the concert venue, how ironic would that be?

“Dustin!” Steve shouted into the receiver to no avail, “Dustin… Dustin! I swear to god I will answer your questions but you have to ask them one at a time, bud.”

There was a deep breath, a few muffled reassurances from Suzie, and then it was quiet again. Steve hesitantly placed the phone to his ear, waiting for the first question.

“Steve… how the hell did you get tickets? The show was sold out! All the days are. I know, I checked!”

“Okay, so I… didn’t technically get tickets,” Steve cringed.

“… WHAT? YOU-,”

“Dustin! I swear to god, I’m getting us into the concert tomorrow.”

“How, Steven?? HOW are you getting us into a sold out concert tomorrow for the biggest band to perform in Indy in years, the day before opening night?”

“Okay first of all, never call me Steven again. Ever. You got that? Never ever. And second…,” he paused, mulling over his choice of words, “I uh… I know a guy who’s working the venue.”

Steve could only hear Dustin’s breathing over the speaker. He didn’t know if he broke the kid or if he was trying to decide if Steve could be trusted after nine years of friendship. Maybe Dustin thought he was delusional, he wouldn’t be the first person to think that tonight.

“Is this a rich person thing?” Dustin finally asked.

“A rich- Dude, I make $20 an hour, no this isn’t a rich person thing, Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered. A snort like a lawn mower revved from behind Robin’s bedroom door, and Steve contemplated the pros and cons of shaving her head in her sleep for the third time that night.

“Well sorry! Forgive me for not believing you!” Dustin shouted sarcastically, the earlier hysteria bleeding into his words again (though thankfully not as much as before). Steve told Dustin to take another deep breath before continuing.

“He told me to text him when we got there, they’ll let us through. I already told him we’re going tomorrow, he’s prepared and reassured me like three times that he’ll personally make sure we’re let in. Do you want to go or not? I swear to god, kid, I could still rescind the offer.”

“Steve if you take this back I will shove my hand so far up your ass-”

“Oh like you could take me, Henderson, I don’t think-”

“You lost to Jonathan, I think I could do just fine.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to see a concert tomorrow, I think what you mean to say is ‘Oh my god, Steve, this is the best news of my life, you’re the greatest guy ever, I can’t believe I know someone who can get me into a concert for my favorite little rock band’,” He taunted, raising his voice to a pitch that absolutely wasn’t Dustin’s, but he knew it would rial the kid up anyway.

Henderson’s put-upon sigh crackled through the receiver, and Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Dustin could be exasperated all he wanted, Steve knew this was going to be an amazing experience for him, even if they had the shittiest seats possible.

“They’re metal, Steve. Metal.”

“Yeah, yeah, pick you up at 7!”

“This better not be a trick, or-,” Steve hung up before he got caught in another round of banter. Cutting Dustin off always brought Steve a sick kind of pleasure, the kid could go on and on and on, honestly it was self preservation. He headed to his room to finally sleep, kicking Robin’s door as he went. She would be spared from a buzz cut tonight, he was in a good mood.

—

I’ve started tagging these as ‘the upside downers’ because that’s what I’m naming Stobin’s band, if you want to follow that tag specifically! I also always tag helpimstuckwriting for any of my writing

Tag list:

@weirdandabsurd42 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @snapshotmaestro @youraveragemushroom @stxrcrossed186 @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @notfrogsunderatrenchcoat @irethsune @m-owo-n @phantomcat94

#i hope I got the banter right #i always feel like I’m terrible at dialogue #i like writing it but the ‘he said’ ‘she said’ tags are so awkward #sorry if it sucks lmao #stranger things #the upside downers #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fic #famous eddie munson #fanfiction #helpimstuckwriting

[bigkickguy]

Have u played canto 5? Its v good

I have seen some screenshots! Some of the character designs look so cool!!! and I'm excited to see what the story is about cause Ishmael is so interesting to me! I want to know what her deal is!!! I'm not playing the game unfortunately since I what happened with how the company treated some workers really sucked. I work in the games industry too, so the idea that someone would fire / bribe a resignation of a coworker or me over something someone on the internet said is so insane to me. Especially how stupid the pinching hand gesture call is, like its crazy. I can't get over it personally haha. It could also just be the worlds worst handling of public messaging too? But having worked too many places weird shit like this happens - I don't trust like that not without some kind of external proof. I am on the fence on if I will play again or not! It really depends on how the investigation will go if they end up doing one! I love the world and the characters and I still think it is the best mobile game I've ever played!! But it's much harder for me to enjoy the themes now knowing what the company chose to do or not do in real life. So I am holding off watching the chapter for now - if I do end up feeling alright playing the game again I think it will be fun to play through an experience the story as I play it! And if I do I'll probably scream and get all excited over it then! But if I decide not to play again I'll probably just watch it at some point!

#kickguyreply #sorry if I'm being a downer haha but that's how it is for me #i hear its very gay in chapter 5 and im so so excited - i saw ahab's design and i started doodling again haha #I still draw things every once in a while I just don't post them :') #but i also do this with various games and studios - like with riotgames lmao #hard to enjoy arcane given the main draw seems to be cool women when they're facing multiple lawsuits for being Awful to women in real life #also the whole job contract issue signing away your rights to a lawyer... and trying to sue the makers of the original warcraft mod... #i was pretty into LoL cause the characters and world were cool and it was fun - but i can just focus on other things now haha #can never answer a single question without going into a tag ramble sorry sorry hadkfjghadfkg

[tuiyla]

Hello -I love your analysis of the girls.

Can you expand on your view of the Blaine Santana relationship? I felt you were on a downer about it. Yes we didn’t get much to work with, but there was nothing in canon to say they wouldn’t like each other, or not tolerate each other (can’t remember the exact phrase you used - low-key annoyance ?)

Ok, she is pissed off in IKAG - but she is with everyone, rightly so - but I’m not talking about then. Any other times we see them together, she seems to have his back and be a sisterly figure to him - Karofsky in NoN, with Finn in early 3, happy to mention him and Kurt’s exploits to Adam, she’s so happy at the proposal in 5.1) and even her rant at Kurt seemed more in favour of Blaine. Plus she let him share her wedding, and walk her down the aisle. We had that one time in Movin Out when she appeared to hate the new piano, but actually enjoyed singing with her friends. Plus, he’s always admiring her performances (Nutbush City Limits for example).

I mean they’re not close friends, he would be more close to Brittany and she to Kurt, but it’s not a negativity. Yes, they were the least friendship we saw in the Klaine Brittana dynamic, but that’s the way they were written. I’m sure if she’d stay in Ohio in season 4, they’d have helped each other out.

Thanks Anon.

See, that's the thing about the majority of Glee friendships that they are very much in the eye of the beholder. I didn't mean to imply Blaintana don't, or wouldn't rather, have at least an OK relationship. I just think, out of the double wedding quartet, they're the least close.

And I mean fair points to all that you list, but most of those are from... Santana's POV? And I'll clarify here then that I was more referring to low-key annoyance on Blaine's part, mostly. I think Santana didn't have much if anything against him, she was clearly willing to help him, and viewed him as part of the team. By her own standards, she didn't even insult him much. I just also don't think he'd be very high on her list of bros but to be clear that doesn't mean they wouldn't have a friendship. But just based on what we had in the show, other friendships were prioritized for both of them.

As for what I meant by that low-key annoyance, I guess I just saw a Blaintana set that was supposed to highlight their dynamic and saw a few examples of Blaine looking low-key annoyed. That definitely does not mean they wouldn't tolerate each other, so this is me clarifying that in case it was unclear Anon. That's not what I meant, nor did I mean that they wouldn't like each other just fine and that we have canon evidence against it. Okay? Disclaimer because the exact phrasing matters, low-key annoyance means something way different than hatred or bare toleration.

It's just, the way Blaine reacts to NoN, and I'm sorry no one hates it more than me but IKAG is canon and the way he handles her there. Plus, on the Santana side of things, the way she is during Last Friday Night, though she's pissed off at the club not Blaine there but still. Again, that's not to say this is evidence that they hate each other, actually. I think they'd roll their eyes at each other sometimes and still ultimately be friends, just not besties by any means. And that's okay, we like each just fine and would help out if needed friendships are okay.

Tbh I think I'm only a downer about it relative to how I usually talk about other Glee friendships and that's because I don't think we can read into it much, purely based on canon. I'm glad for you if you like them, genuinely, and I think there is a friendship there, but to me it's not interesting enough to put that extra effort in. And Glee friendships so often require that extra effort, even the more established ones. I don't think we can definitively say based on canon that they're any closer than your average ND members bond and in that case I'd rather invest in dynamics that call to me more.

Here's the thing, we can make almost any friendship work and frankly we should because Glee was shit at it and all these kids deserved to have an actual found family dynamic. I think Blaintana, like so much of Glee, is what you make of it. I don't hate it by any means nor do I think they have anything against each other, it's just not a friendship I personally think too much about or would consider them suuuper close. But interpretations of them having more of a proper friendship are perfectly valid, if that's what you put into it. I realize now this is more just a reply to everything you said instead of a ~proper~ Blaintana post but hit me up in case that's something you'd like to see. Proper post meaning more so replying to this part Can you expand on your view of the Blaine Santana relationship? and how I think they could work as a friendship. I'm not super invested in them like I am in Santana's besties but I'm still a sucker for any and all Glee friendships lol.

#oh and everyone enjoyed nutbush lmao i'm sorry but performance reactions are just #barely relevant to me personally #this is ALL just my personal opinion i really do love it if other people elevate this friendship more #movin out and a wedding i'd also say are not really blaintana pros but i went on for long enough as is #and don't actually wanna be a downer on the friendship it's just not My thing #now for the actual tags for archival purposes #anon #glee asks #glee friendships #blaintana #blaine anderson #santana lopez

[sparxwrites]

Thoughts on c!beeduo? I know your niche is more Quackity, Wilbur, and Tommy, but I would love to hear your take on the characters.

tbf i think they are super cute as a duo, and i love them as characters. i have a lot of fondness for ranboo as a neurodivergent-coded character, and love what i know of tubbo's plotline about like... the ways he's been shoved around by people and puppeted, and the toll that's taken on him, and i think the whole like. 'determined, deliberate domesticity and family-making in the face of unimaginable horrors and suffering (but also i have nukes and will use them)' vibe i get from them is so, so interesting and very much the kind of thing i like.

but i just like... do not know much about them beyond some bits from other people's streams :( ranboo's stuff is on my to-watch list - it seems like it'd be very my jam - but tbh i'm not sure if/when i'll get round to it...

(honestly a lot of the stuff i really liked about the dsmp, a lot of the characters i really liked, has kind of petered out, so i don't watch so much of it any more. there's still fic i'm writing, and i still occasionally read fic for it, but hermitcraft is a lot more my main fandom now. which isn't neg on dsmp or anything, i just.... really specifically loved a lot of character dynamics where like. schlatt's long gone, wilbur's gone, quackity just does animatics which are fun and good but don't have the requisite momentum / emotional build, tommy's stuff has stalled... idk. we'll see where the new season goes!)

#anonymous #ask #sparx chats #dsmp tag #beeduo #sorry if this is a bit of a downer on ur ask!! i just ended up rambling lmao #sighs. man now i feel like i should watch more dsmp stuff.. #but i'm trying So hard to do more stuff that's not 'mindlessly watch youtube' atm u know???

[bobtheacorn]

If anon is throwing rocks at your window in the middle of the night, I am bringing you baked goods of your choice at a decent hour. Actually it rules that you're proship. Keep up the good work (minding your own business, not being a bully, not falling for reactionary nonsense, thinking for yourself, having common sense, and so on and so forth)

Genuinely, THANK U I appreciate that!! I'm doing my best!! I'm just tryin'a write my silly lil fanfics and vibe and everybody else should be allowed to do the same.

#asked #i'm trying not to be a DOWNER but my god #I keep accidentally getting into fandoms that seem to have a high BS rate?? #there's a tiny niche of ppl minding their own business and then a huge swatch of ppl that are like........... #aggressively yelling abt pretend threats to their Pure and Superior Thoughts on Fictional Characters #i don't know how to tell them that Jesus Christ is not gonna kiss them on the forehead for being hate mongering goblins #im just sayin #he would probably be the first to throw a table into the thick of y'all #like i get it u don't like incest that's valid #if u hate it so much why do you keep bringing it up????????????????? #tcest was literally trending on twitter a while ago bc baby antis were hollering abt it and the Algorithm was like U Want?? Here. #and then they took psychic damage abt it #i had to laugh #i guess i'm built different #nothing desensitizes you to stuff you don't want to see quicker than being 10 years old on the brand new interwebs #and googling your favorite digimon bc u want a cool desktop pic #NO search filters NO tags #just u as a kid fighting for ur life in google images sweeping past pages of weird grown up shit with ur eyes the size of dinner plates #let me just wave my cane and rant for a minute!!!!!!!!!! sorry!!!!!!! lmao #i'm just Old and Tired and I think ppl should be thankful for tumblr and ao3 and their fantastic fucking tagging systems and no algorithm #u can literally block things u dont wanna see #also u can just mind ur own business abt it

[blackbat05]

Imperfect

College! Adam Warlock x Reader

Plot: You have a much needed heart-to-heart conversation with Adam on the woes of life.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Totally did not write this at the service desk (lmao). Yet again, based on experience. Thought about who might be the best current character that I have written to write this and a college Adam came to mind? Anyways, hope you enjoy!

“Hey!” Adam waves at me from afar. He certainly looks the part of a college student. I close the latest book that I’m currently engrossed with, smiling at his enthusiasm despite going through back-to-back three hour classes.

“Classes went well?”

“Oh yes,” he responds excitedly and proceeds to share about his classes on Introduction to History and Ancient Civilization. “Humans are most interesting. Imagine getting by with the lack of technology back then!”

“You are probably the only one whose so excited about classes.” I tease. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself on Earth.”

We lounge under the big tree that provided us with a cool breeze. Other students seemed to have the same idea as you as they lazily chomped on food while enjoying the serenity of the lake on a weekday afternoon. You retrieved two boxes of pepperoni pizza from your bag and pass one to Adam who does not hesitate to sink into the pepperoni with relish. “Mmmh…” Adam swallows a bite of the pizza, earning a giggle from me. “This is delicious.”

“You mean you’ve never had it before?”

Adam shakes his head. “Nope. Mother wanted me to be perfect. I was strictly monitored over everything the moment I was born.” He says it with such nonchalance that I almost miss a hint of bitterness in his tone. “But that’s okay,” Adam sees my expression. “I met Quill, Rocket and everyone else. They showed me what I was missing and I’ve caught up. Mostly.” He adds proudly.

I nod, mulling over his words. “How did you feel though? The need to be perfect and meet everyone’s expectations.”

Adam frowns, giving a thoughtful sigh. “I’ve never really thought about it actually. I thought it was… normal. Working and striving to be the best. But I felt that it wasn’t what I wanted.” He tears another chunk of pizza. “I wanted to do what I truly wanted, to be happy. I remember when I was younger, I tagged along with Mother to visit one of the Alien colonies. I ran off to explore the city on my own even though Mother told me not to. But I knew I could and I wanted too. Although I was punished rather harshly, I felt a sense of joy and elation. Do humans feel this way too?”

“They do. I do.” I bring my knees to my chest, watching a pair of students jog past us. Adam looks at me inquisitively. “I never really elaborated to you why I’m working at the student library, right?”

Adam nods, waiting for me patiently.

“I was working at a Community Resource Centre. I was so excited because it was basically what I was working towards for almost a decade. To your people, it may feel like a second but to me, it was everything. I started work and needless to say, I was in for a very rude shock.” I laugh at the memories that was enough to create my own horror film. “It got so bad that I had to take a step back and reevaluate everything that I’ve done. It came to a point where I even questioned myself that I was doing things simply because I felt the need to conform and to live up to the expectations.”

I notice that Adam hasn’t said a single word as I share my story. “I’m sorry, I know I must be such a downer. I try not to repeat myself even with my family or friends. They’ve a lot on their plates and this is simply just a minor setback in my life.”

“Don’t say that.” Adam admonishes. “You’ve experienced something bad and you shouldn’t make it any less. I’m sorry that you went through this and you should have gotten better.”

It wasn’t sympathy but Adam’s words felt like a much needed warm embrace. “Thanks. It’s hard to share my experiences when people would just tell you to ‘suck it up’ or ‘that’s life’. I don’t want to make this sound like a pity party but sharing does make me accept that this happened to me.”

“I agree. It was how I got by with the loss of Mother and the rest of my community. Everything I knew, blown into bits. I was the last one remaining and that pressure to carry the name of my people got even stronger, until Rocket told me to let it all go because at the end of the day, we’re just living for ourselves.”

“Living for ourselves…” I let it roll off my tongue. “I like it.”

As we finish the rest of our lunch, the azure skies gave the campus a homely feeling.

“Thanks. For the conversation. I needed that.” I say as we walked back to the campus.

“Happy to be a good listening ear.” Adam grins. “To being imperfect!”

I laugh at his sudden exclamation that results in stares from a couple of students and faculty alike.

“To being imperfect.”

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #guardians of the galaxy #gotg vol 3 #college au

[jonassiegenthighler]

15 people 15 questions

thanks for the tag @simmyfrobby (beloved bestie)

1. are you named after anyone?

Yes! My legal name is the same first, middle, and last (but with the first name ~feminized~) as my grandfather. "Eliot" I stole from Eliot Leverage (I have not told this blog about the El(l)iot(t) Spencer Reid Triangle but it explains a lot to me) though tbf I was already going by Ellie at that point and it was an easy jump more so than naming myself after him.

2. when was the last time you cried?

When my dad was (inadvertently) a huge dick to me on Christmas Eve and it reminded me that I don't have a close relationship with any of my family and that sucks to think about at Christmas. Sorry this is a downer answer but it's fully a downer question wtf man

3. do you have kids?

I have cats.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

My mom made me do t-ball, softball, soccer, and basketball (not at the same time. I think we went with basketball the longest) when I was a kid, I tried out for the tennis team freshman year and didn't make it, I was on the track team (as a thrower, running has never been my strong suit, to make up for this my body decided that I walk very fast lmao) instead but then the next year I just didn't sign back up and never did organized sports again.

5. do you use sarcasm?

Probably not as much as I used to.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes. Probably because I'm accustomed to forcing myself to make eye contact with people lmao.

7. what’s your eye color?

It's between green and blue depending on the light and surrounding colors. Like in the gray bathroom they look blue but in the rear view mirror they look green. No one else has been able to give me a definitive answer either. My driver's license says green though.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Both? Usually after a scary movie I will watch something light to cheer myself up.

9. any talents?

I don't know about talents. I have some skills that I'm pretty good at but that's not the same thing.

10. where were you born?

Sioux City, Iowa. My greatest shame is that I am not actually from Jerz originally (We moved here when I was an infant)

11. what are your hobbies

Reading, watching hockey, crochet, I used to go to concerts a lot but I'm old and tired now so maybe 2 or 3 in a year (trust me that is almost none).

12. do you have any pets?

Two cats!

13. how tall are you?

5'7"

14. favorite subject in school?

History

15. dream job

I don't have specifics. I know I get to sit down sometimes.

I'm gonna tag the whole dang GC

[niconiconwo]

9 people you'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @lurklore , thanks bud sorry this took a while

Last song: South of Heaven, Slayer

Favorite Color: Purple/Violet

Currently Watching: Vtubers, I haven't watched anime in a season or two lmao

Last Movie: I don't really remember, I think it was some anime movie tbh

Currently Reading: N/A, haven't had anything new to read nor started any VNs recently

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: A fourth, cooler option: tangy

Relationship Status: Currently Recruiting

Current Obsession(s): Car stuff, and soon to be motorcycle stuff; the cute anime ladies playing video game

Last Thing I Googled: "slurs for irish people"

Currently Working On: I should have a chance to do my drums this week but like actual projects, none right now but that might change if I convince myself to buy that welding table next check.

I tag @aonaranacht , @rainydayscore , @mr-robert-downer-jr , @hentairobot , @carriershoukaku + four others who can self-nominate

[the1975attheirverybest]

I think on days that i get super depressed i dont have the energy to even get out of bed.and that is okay too.please dont pressure yourself to take any steps big or small if you dont have the energy for it because putting extra pressure on yourself might trigger feelings of worthlessness etc.its okay to have some days where things come to a full stop.

Not to turn this into a full on therapy session, but I pretty much feel worthless like 80% of the time, lmao. (I think I need my meds adjusted. Got on these like 2 weeks ago and they aren’t doing SHIT)

Especially nowadays when my deadline is approaching, and I’ve spent most of this week not doing much of anything, not having the energy to cook so I’ve ordered out a lot which means I’ve spent way over budget, let the laundry pile, etc. like I just feel that I’ve failed on all fronts. Personally and professionally and I just fuckin hate it all.

Sorry if this is a bit too much of a downer on this Sunday morning. Gonna include a trigger warning tag so I don’t hurt anyone with my bullshit.

#tw depression

[sofastuffing]

Mettaton, requested by @troopythedragon24!

#accidentally gave him the bi colours whoops lmao #ngl I don't really like how it looks that much #because I kinda defaulted to 3/4 angle headshot after literally Not Being Able to draw him at all for the past few days #which is why he looks unusually pensive because I kinda gave up on doing a dynamic expression lol #sorry to be a downer in the tags lmao I don't hate this or anything tho lol #mettaton #coloured sketch #undertale #ut dr #mettaton ex #art request #id included #id in alt text

[glittermork]

I can't believe they added 2 new and younger members and they still ended up being older than the 2 current maknaes. Let Jisung and Chenle have their yaja time RIP.

oh my god yeah it’s so funny too like we all really thought we were gonna see someone call jisung hyung and they were like SIKE we’re actually just giving 00 line (and aqua line lmao) more chaos and chenle a same age friend 😌😌 I’m sure jisung and chenle will have their yaja time whether shotaro and seungchan like it or not tho, those two can get away with anything

(and I can’t lie a part of me is a bit relieved that jisung is still nct’s baby 😗)

#my I’m getting old crisis is avert for now too which is nice #it’s never fun to see such young idols debut honestly not to get too political in my tags that no one reads #but Korea needs to tighten up their child labor laws bc someone of this stuff is blatant exploitation at this point #sorry that last part was a bit of a downer lmao #asks #anon #💌

[hermitknut]

god damn tumblr

so apparently if you put double quotes in your tags

it bumps the tag/s with the double quotes to the top of the list? 

which, 1) why

but also, more importantly, 2) hey no this is bullshit

that was fun to find out today as I went back through my own blog and found that in my reblog of this doctor who post:

[ID: the hands gripping each other meme, where “Russel T Davies” and “ABBA” are united by “returning when the world needed them most”].

My tags as I wrote them originally read:

[ID: tags reading #genuinely excited about the return of RTD #though it was a big of a downer because I went looking on twitter for people being excited about it #and almost everyone I found was shitting on Jodie??? #I even saw one person being like #thank GOD we can finally get back to PROPER DW #no more WOKENESS #bahhhhh #honey have you seen the RTD era lmao fuck you #doctor who]

but because I’d put the person-being-a-dick’s-words in QUOTES, this is how it looked:

[ID: tags reading #thank GOD we can finally get back to PROPER DW #no more WOKENESS #genuinely excited about the return of RTD #though it was a big of a downer because I went looking on twitter for people being excited about it #and almost everyone I found was shitting on Jodie??? #bahhhhh #I even saw one person being like #honey have you seen the RTD era lmao fuck you #doctor who]

which, needless to say, SOMEWHAT CHANGES THE MEANING. Sorry if I gave anyone a bit of a scare.

anyway, I did a full body cringe when I found it and I’ve moved the tags back, and now I’m trying to figure out how to make sure I remember not to use double quotes in the tags anymore (unless I don’t care about the order, I guess).

Anyone know why it does this now? I swear this is at least relatively new?

H 

#just noticed when I fixed it I put the bahhhh back in the wrong place lol #oh well #god this really through me when I rediscovered it #ugh I feel like I need to like #make my blog have a shower or something #and also remember to double check my tags after posting #in which hermitknut is herself

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.1)

I KNOW MY EDIT SUCKED. HEH. That’s my book cover in Wattpad. Couldn’t post CHAPTER 23.2 there because the application is glitching and I’m annoyed af. Anyway, enjoy this chapter for WOTN. 

CHAPTER 23

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe a witch isn't the key for your getaway because it could be deeper than that.

Warnings: The summary sucked. I couldn't write anything to avoid spoilers. LMAO. Curses. Tybalt and Geralt banter/hate for each other? 😂 Rohesia is my OC, not connected to any of the games or books. The witcher character named Gerd (AHA. I'VE INTENTIONALLY DID THIS. Surprised to see a stomach sickness used as a name lmao jk 😂) from the Bear school has been used. Bethleheigm is also a made up kingdom from moi. 😂 (Pronounced as Beth-le-haym)

Words: 4.3k

A/N: I know Kaer Morhen is located in Kaedwen. Damn it. I lately knew it when I was already half way through this fic and I can't change it anymore. Let's just say...oof. They'll eventually go there. Don't worry. Oop. Is it a spoiler? 😭

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (Credits to the rightful owners of the gifs, it’s written in the lower part of their gifs. Though, some don’t. Still, credits to them. If you want it to be removed, just kindly message me) The edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books or games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

DAY THREE CAME QUICKLY THAN WHAT WAS EXPECTED. Taking the shorter route to keep the proximity of hours easier for traveling back faster to Kaedwen. Geralt and Tybalt had an allayed journey towards the outskirts of Bethleheigm.

If a narrator was utterly dramatic, he or she could say that the witcher was beyond exhausted over being with the higher vampire because he only knew how to gall him over and over---a deathless cycle through out their travel, side by side with their own horses and vexation over each other. Yet, Geralt rarely has given him his energy for a battle that was pathetic as it ends.

They've both shared a night somehow. Their backs meters away from each other. With Geralt and his sarcasm never shutting one's eye until Tybalt was cursing him out under the moon light because the white wolf warned him not to think about hunting people to quench his thirst for blood. The higher vampire was left throwing him a pebble on his back and muttering how the full moon won't be until the day of the feast in the castle where he would technically celebrate over being a vampire but this choice could also be eradicated since blood was not in the highest scale in his pyramid law of needs.

Nights weren't the only thing shared between the two. Unbeknownst to them till Geralt was humming in displeasure, they've actually shared a drink of your home made ale. Tybalt commented how it was as good as Kaedwenian stout---perhaps, even better. Mentioning that the beer was probably made of your love for him which made the witcher scrunch his nose for how cheesy it sounded. Tybalt even declared numerical reasons as to why he kept you with him until today because you knew how to make his drunkard self swoon over your culinary skills.

Your cookery abilities were still different and utmost impressive than Geralt's regardless of how he has been used to embellishing his own food alone before. His midget's skills were technically amazing, add up the peculiar recipes that only you know---but, actually existed in earth---your earth. Those recipes that could get his family and him included, humming in deliciousness because it was new for their taste buds.

They were ought to arrive at the abandoned house today. Side by side, Tybalt and Geralt silently rode on their horses. Both of them fed up at the opposite of every presence that galled them to the brim. The witcher blurting out his opinions very frankly at the scowling vampire who was acting like he wasn't there along the hunt.

"You should've just stayed in the castle and played with your army stocks," Geralt grumbled as he held onto Roach's reigns. Tybalt's advancements for what he has done to you never leaving his memories when he clearly remembered the causes about why he was hating him more than to drown in a monster's stinking guts.

"I should've stabbed yer' horse while we were travelling---or feed off to er' horse blood," Tybalt clapped back, sending the remark in the nonchalant way as possible with a sarcastic raise of his brows.

"Leave Roach out of this,"

"Gods, yer' such a strange one, Witcha'!"

The witcher's scowl was as nasty as an Alghoul's bum. Tybalt seemed to be thoroughly embittered for even tagging along with a cold heart that was grudging to even join his hunt. If it weren't for the queen's request, he would never even be within Geralt's area of personal space. Howbeit, people have been trying to frustrate him even more with their sudden decisions erupting from either sides, like a dormant volcano that no one expects to explode.

Grey undertoned house. Ramshackled from the roof till the decaying roots of stones stuck in between their spaces. Close enough to be dilapidated if a wolf would've tried blowing the house down---though, the three little pigs weren't inside for it to hunt. They were closing in towards their destination, Geralt was anticipating this point of their journey; to immediately seek for the witch and to come back sooner than expected.

Yet, his anticipation burned in disappointment by the familiar look of the house rooted in front of them.

He'd heard stories about this abandoned home in Bethleheigm through drunk men in the Inns. They were having a tete-a-tete that it was a boobey trap made by homeless pirates who hadn't gotten back to shore, concealing the home as a place for them to steal one's belongings until they were ripped off their coins. Some tattled that the house was a dragon's nest where a woman lived in and disguised as one that Geralt knew entirely as a bullshit rumor because no dragons would dare pick to stay in the middle of a forest where the house was the only home built through out the map.

The witcher jumped off his horse, hushing Roach down with a soft caress to her mane because she'd begun to neigh.

Tybalt couldn't help but cackle from how he was affectionately eyeing the horse as if she was his other half, "---I wouldn't be surprised if ye' bring yer' horse with ye' while you bed yer' little woman!" he outlaughed and had a hand on his clothed stomach, shaking his head from the witcher's strange gestures with everything.

"Hmm."

Geralt gave him the side eye, endlessly shooting daggers since the moment they bonded together. His comment receiving a lour from the brooding white wolf because of the baldy judgement said.

"Yer' grumpier than usual---like ye' have been in a fight with yer' current flame---is it the tiny lass, anotha' one of your sorceresses or princess?" the Upir quipped with a smirk, hopping off his own horse before giving the house a look. He seemed to waver with a clear of his throat.

Geralt disregarded his ridicule and question with a blessed silence, his mood turning sour from even mentioning you. The weccan's golden eyes scanned all over the tumbledown house, his amber narrowing as he examined what was expected to be a necromage's hideout that he has heard from one of the drunk men's gossips in the inns.

"This abandoned house," he gruffly started beneath his baritone, harsh breathing as Geralt huffed for his disappointment over the founded location. The bind he had with you turning heavier as days go by like he knew you were turning into a melancholic person due to his faults. Hence, it was keeping him more insane than he can ever be because he always seem to offer only mistakes towards his people---where they end up getting hurt because of him.

Which wasn't new in his life.

"---There is no hag in here. Only a Necromage I presume."

Tybalt walked several steps to stop beside Geralt, shrugging his fur-coated shoulders with a curl of his upper lip, "I told ye' to take the longer route. Right path, Witcha'."

"And I told that you are bringing us both in an early demise because Golems and Downers are bound to get in our way,"

The higher vampire kept his mouth shut after that, his foot tapping on the ground before he received a subtle warning of Geralt's glare. The witcher was right about it. Basically, Tybalt was trying to stall over their journey because he knew what exactly was the stratagem kept for a clandestine truth bound never to be known.

Geralt pushed his peculiar fidgets away as it was still sounding so loud with his heightened hearing. He narrowed his eyes upon the engraved words carved inside the four corners of a mettalic flattened surface stuck on the grimy, stoned walls.

"Thou who shall take a step, requires a fee for entrance and something valuable to heart in order to talk with death,"

He silently read the words inside his head. Considering the requests before slightly pursing his lips, the ends looking like a frown but was actually just irrespective of what he was currently thinking. The ramshackle home being surrounded by an invisible strong force field shielded for not any normal man could trespass in without the rules asked. Another form of magic that he knew---though, this wasn't just any simple sign. It was created by sorceresses or wizards to safeguard the whole home for decades end, not risking anyone to touch whoever was inside, like it was keeping something from entering the place.

Geralt gave Tybalt a look while the vampire continued to whistle along the winds, his arms crossed in front of his chest whilst checking his awfully long nails, intentionally ignoring his companion until the witcher tried to grab onto a rock, strongly throwing the stone towards his head until Tybalt used his abnormal abilities, instantly dodging the stone coming forth and sprinting beside Geralt in just a second to see him nodding his head for his crackerjack skills that he seldomly uses.

"Coins." the white haired weccan roughly stated before he heard Tybalt huff and grumble from his demands, giving his palm to him and expecting for a bag of coins to be placed on his hands.

"You have your own, Witcher."

Geralt cocked his head to the side with a feigned smile, shaking his head, "My coins will remain untouched. I'm not risking mine for favors asked."

"Fuck you and yer' coins. I hope you feckin' go slow and die as soon as you're done with us,"

In the end, Tybalt eventually had to fish out a bag of crowns inside his coat, begrudgingly dropping them off on the witcher's awaiting palm who has shrugged his broad shoulders for his easy submission. The words to the engraved poster switching to dust, swirling through the air, changing into an arrow pointing at a brick where Geralt had to slightly touch for it to be pushed back.

Thorny, earthy tone colored vines snaked their way out of the hole. The brick of the old house never being seen as the roots formed a symbol of two palms sticking together like it was asking for alms. Geralt placed the coins on the makeshift hand, slowly slithering its way back to its home.

The house was alive. He was sure of that when he felt the aegis slowly fading away. Its stone doors cracking to slide open for them to enter.

Tybalt hasn't moved a step from his side. He returned to crossing his fairly muscled arms, hearing hasty pads of footsteps shuffling from behind as Geralt halfly turned to see a Hirrika panting on his side, yelping as a way of his bark towards the witcher who had his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and stupefaction; stunned to see the familiar beast who has impressively found him despite of his long travel.

"Kolby."

"Your whore's feral pet," The Upir deadpanned, chuckling nasally like a sarcasm.

Tybalt heard a low growl coming the monster, his fangs shown to the vampire who he could sense and remember, his scent awfully making him remember how he'd hurt his master.

"Watch it." Geralt gruffly mumbled, giving Tybalt the side-eye as he tried monotonely hushing the rare beast like how he'd seen you soothe his annoyance or anger whenever Jaskier irritates Kolby.

"Down, Kolby. No teeth." he gruffly scolded with a raise of his palm.

The Hirikka chattered like a cat as he glared at Geralt's temporary companion, spinning on his own place before howling, his snout tilted at the sky as he yowled, the sound making him wince from how loud it was---too sensitive for his heightened hearing. Though, that didn't stop him from judging his gestures, noticing how he was jumping in his own spot whilst doe eyes stared back.

"He's saying something," the white wolf frankly stated, exhaling a languid breath through his nose because he couldn't understand what he wanted, "---Stay here and don't touch Roach or my Hirikka." he mentioned for Tybalt who appeared to be mentally finding their whole interaction as comedic. Geralt took a step forth, subtly leaving a pat on Kolby's head that eventually calmed him down, making him skip his paws to the side.

The Hirikka jumped to sit on his short tail, his knees bent and close to his chest as he silently watched Tybalt and Geralt conversing together with snarls and insensitive jests until the witcher finally moved away from him, bravefully entering the threshold.

"Where ye' going?" Tybalt called out and made him cease his steps, promptly giving the growling Hirikka his heed to see Geralt judging with his slightly entertained peepers, fighting off the curl of his lips because of how his Hirikka was making the higher vampire uneasy. He was agile but lacked knowledge over the beastiality of the continent. Probably, because of how he has been confined in the castle in an early age and known more politics and schemes more than the lore of monsters.

"To ask the Necromage about that witch,"

"Just like that?"

"She might know her whereabouts. Stay here if you don't want to get your vampire nails grimy,"

Tybalt cocked his head to the side, effusive of cursing out the witcher who had a smirk as he turned his back away from him, continuing his path around and ignoring his cavils.

"Why am I even following ye' around, Mutant?"

Geralt of Rivia entered the perimeters. His newly sharpened swords latched on his wide, broad back. Every step had his chest heavier than usual; bred-in-the-bone like he knew there was something happening to you back in the castle that he couldn't decipher and it made him scowl. The energy in the house even adding more of that deep-seated feeling---the home being cursed as well like some sort of magic was ceasing his advancements from talking to this person living inside.

The place wasn't ruined after all. It was all charmed and just a mere visionary trap or distraction that won't let people fall for even staying close to whoever was inside. Clean and utterly fixed, furnitures sat on their proper rooms which held up a second floor that Geralt didn't plan on exploring for as a presence could be felt while he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Necromage,"

This person was a woman, Geralt silently stated the obvious inside his head. Her voice was tremulous and surprised to see a gigantuan man standing in the middle of her kitchen which she has never seen before in all her life.

"I am no Necromage," Rohesia calmly informed him, her heed turning distant from the mention, "She...has already died. Cristabell, My lady of the rarest in Bethleheigm---the only necromancer in this kingdom. May her soul rest in peace,"

"---You're the witcher." she paused, taking a gander and examining the white wolf before her. White hair falling on the tips of his shoulder blades. Gold eyes. A scowl prominent on his face. This was the witcher she has been warned about from both parties.

Geralt attempted a cynical smile, seeing that she held more lies and have been doing so for a lifetime, "There's no use of lying."

She was feeble. As old as Eanraig in terms of physical appearance but not his actual age since he was a scholar of the forest. The witcher held onto his medallion, seeming to feel no vibrations over his necklace that he strongly felt before the doors have been opened. His white and black spotted eyebrows furrowed for what singularity was happening.

This was supposed to be the Necromage. Yet, why does she felt human who had no magic to offer?

The hoary, old woman was not lying after all.

Rohesia forced to give him a small smile, walking past him to sit on one of the wooden, dining chairs. Gesturing her palm outwards for Geralt to take a seat that he simply answered with silence as he stood rooted on his spot, assessing what she truly was.

"I offer you no lies of secrecy. My mouth speaks nothing but the truth for I am just a mortal who thrives to live peacefully in the continent," she honestly answered his curiosity and judgements which made him nod at her uprightness---making his job easier for him.

The woman really was no necromage at all.

"A mortal who stands for her virtues. Hmm."

"Why are you here, Witcher?"

His glower was permanent even as he sauntered to where she was, standing upright and leaning a hand on the top portion of her dining chairs whilst he patiently explained.

"To find the hag who has cursed prince Althalos of Kaedwen."

Rohesia only offered a small, genuine smile. Her shaky laugh erupting through her chest because she knew this was the man who her former witcher and lover give fair warning to when the Kaedweni started their murdering plots upon fellow weccans who fall for their crimes. Vesemir never wanted to be involved with their delinquencies, explains his periodic leave in the kingdom---his constant visits for the woman seldomly occurring since Nilfgaard has attacked and conquered another domain after Cintra.

"Are you doing this because Vesemir has told you so?"

Geralt went on with his speechless talk, low humming followed suit for the flabbergast he felt over hearing his senior mentor in the art of their kind. The end of his lips subtly turning the opposite of a lour, relieved to suddenly hear his name through another person's mouth---a woman he probably had a relationship with; a former flame and mortal that Geralt least expect for Vesemir to entertain because of the conducts he had told him prior into becoming one skilled witcher.

It is that being involved with mortals and even having a soft spot in the job won't make them any better.

"Does he visit often?"

She ignored his question with a simple, wholehearted feeble laugh. Her circumvent obvious that Rohesia wanted not to talk about Vesemir after he has chosen to leave her for coins and another woman---another mortal years ago, thinking that because she aged badly was one of the reasons why he chose something better than to be with her. Hence, they were even known to be monsters of their own kind. Monsters who slay other beasts in exchange for coins. It was what she believed them to be---yet, she knew to herself that if Vesemir would come back to her, she would still accept him with all her mortal heart.

She dryly coughed, avoiding his eyes and covering her mouth with a tightened fist that Geralt quickly knew she was physically sick just by the looks of it.

"If you...still want to live and take your coin, turn back around and forget that you have stumbled upon this place forever."

The latter shook his head. Determined to find answers from this elderly human who knew his mentor and a fatherly figure he had been to his life. He believed Rohesia knew more than just Vesemir based on how she was trying to push him away.

"Where's the hag?"

"You cannot find the witch anywhere even out in Kaedwen, Geralt."

He was impressed. Geralt raised both of his eyebrows, pursing his lips with a tilt of his head that she knew his name regardless of not introducing himself yet.

"Vesemir has obviously told you more about me,"

She ignored his statement again, grabbing onto the ends of her dirty Tunic as she stood, saying her words firmly and with finality. Never knowing if her decision over dropping out hints would be good for her isolation from everyone---isolation and somehow imprisoned inside a house. The necromage being her sentinel, a guard given orders that she wouldn't escape and try to spill secrets that will ruin such plans. Howbeit, she still had high respects for Cristabell who had been too kind for her that she has brought Rohesia with her whenever she was out for some business.

"The witch you have been finding has been around the castle for decades."

Perhaps, it was time for the truth to set out free because Rohesia knew she had only weeks to live in the continent. Revenge pushing her through the decision she wanted for trying to keep her contained, watching her every move; ruining more of her wrecked life.

"I have been the queen's loyal servant. After she has given birth to Prince Althalos, he has already been cursed when he was a bairn." Pause. "---Sorceress Ingrith has managed to sneak into their quarters and cast the curse by whispering such spell and gaining a tiny drop of his blood. I've all seen her cantrips and heard them as I came back to guard the prince in his sleep. The wail of an offspring shall bring despair for the royal family,"

The sorceress' name felt like a crime to be told. Heaviness in her chest finally unleashing after decades of being caught up with the lies she was telling people who asked or went to gather information as to who has cursed the prince; finding the witch and ending up dying from the hands of her womanly guard. Cristabell recently died from the hands of the last witcher who she knew as Gerd, the necromage dying after their battle whilst she tried to fight for her cousin's trangression---continuing doing so for the sake of her selfish reasons.

"---She...she was also the king's mistress before the queen has given birth to Prince Althalos while she also gained her position. I may never know if it was made from jealousy over the queen's position. Though, it is their life that I promised to stay away from. Only sorceress Ingrith may reverse the curse or happen to know how,"

A beat of silence wrapped them both after Rohesia's candor. Geralt's mouth forming a deeper scowl than ever as he loudly sighed, languidly blinking in weary for being tricked by the sorceress and her right hand, Tybalt of Touissant. His jaw began to clench for who stood outside of the house, the higher vampire making him mad for leading him on circles---the cycle wouldn't have ended if he chose to go forth with his suggested path. It was why he was trying to lead him towards a swamp filled with monsters than the shorter route because the truth was with this rumored woman.

"Should've known."

He deeply grumbled begrudgingly, blaming himself for not thinking it through. His time wasted for you to be saved and taken out of the palace. If only he wasn't as pale as Ivory, his face would've been empurpled with fury for what they've made him appear to be---an idiot or for whatever bullshit they can call him.

"You're coming with me..." Geralt deeply said before he was cut off to her introduction of name.

"The name's Rohesia, Witcher."

He nodded back to the lady, going on with his ceased sentence with solicit, "---Back to the castle,"

Rohesia saw him walk closer to her, face to face with the infamous butcher she has heard tales about. The butcher of Blaviken who has managed to slaughter goons of Princess Renfri's hooligans and also earning another moniker of being a butcher of Ard Carraigh. Kaedwen's capital. The name would eventually spread throughout his kind because of how Kaer Morhen was close by. Her eyes catching onto the badge latched on the rain-guard of his sword.

"I have been told to never step foot again or I shall be put into death,"

"Do I need to beg for your compliance and offer protection?"

"What's in it for you and me?"

The witcher deeply sighed, shifting his amber away from her as Geralt looked withdrawn, his next words sounding like a mumble, dubious of his own bluntness. Disbelieving that he could hear his own voice say the words like an echo of his consciousness.

"You get to save the castle from anguish," pause. "---and you get to save the life of someone dear to me,"

"A woman I assume---your woman," Rohesia sounded so surprised, staring him down in incredulity, "---Is she royal? another sorceress too? a mutant?"

"A mere...mortal," he hesitated to honestly say, his eyes filled with a memory he truly can't forget. Your skeptical voice stuck inside his head when he remembered the first time he met you till the moment you told him how you suited to be a queen.

Geralt clearly remembered his reaction and teasing reply. Telling you how you suited more to be called a midget. His midget. Yet, now you were being treated like his queen where he would kiss the ground you walk on no matter how in denial he gets.

"---Perhaps...a queen to her kingdom in her rightful dimension," he was caught in his train of thoughts, never seeing the stupefaction in Rohesia's eyes over what dimension he meant---having no clue for his words. She could see what Vesemir once was like until life has ruined everything for her, including the sorceress corrupting and controlling the people and castle of Kaedwen.

"Learning to love doesn't suit your kind, Witcher."

"It's because it isn't what you think it is."

Rohesia shook her head for his lies, he was thoroughly unaware of the feelings sipping through his words once he mentioned you. This witcher believed that he wasn't capable to love nor emit feelings just like how her previous lover have been. A typical characteristic of his own kind. Denial and the feeling of being unworthy of recognizing such emotion was making him sound insensitive. But, people who could read others can see through him regardless of how he tries not to, "Deny it all you want. To us humans, it is. Love as many people assume."

"---you're still human after all. As far as I believe for your kind, Geralt of Rivia. Sorceress Ingrith might be glad to see me again soon---I hope."

Don’t hesitate to message me if you don’t want to be included in the taglist anymore, bb’s. I won’t be mad. Thank you. 

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​​ @marvelousell​​​​​ @kingniazx​​​​​ @angelias134​​​​​ @tapismyforte​​​​​ @chook007​​​​​ @butterpumpkinscotch​​​​ @deadlydemon​​​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​​​ @angelofthor​​​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky​​​​, @shesthelastjedi​​​​, @a–1–1–3​​, @gutfucks​​​​, @raynosaurus-rex​​​​, @britty443​​​​, @suhke3​​​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​​​, @ruthoakenshield​​​​, @just-a-sad-donut​​​​, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg​​​​  @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​​, @alexwinchester23​​​, @naturalthrone22​​ @supernaturallover2002​, @tellmesomethinggud​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​​​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​​​

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira​, @iloveyouyen​, @rahdaleigh​, @silverkitten547​, @henrythickcavill​, @kaatelyyynn​, @marvelousell​, @madelinelina​, @summersong69​, @raynosaurus-rex​, @fckdeusername​, @evansislife​  @nothinggoesunpunished

#geralt #muse: geralt #muse: geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt fanfic #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #witcher netflix #geralt x y/n #geralt x female reader #geralt x modern era!reader #fantasy #fiction #fanfic #jaskier #cirilla #henry cavill #henry #henrycavill #hc #seb-owns-these-tatas #witcher of the night #wotn #geralt of rivia fic #geralt x ofc

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Finished piofiore, and since I’m partially to blame for your interest I will be giving a non-spoiler review, imho a lot of the routes can be very boring and uneventful especially since the sub-plot for why the MC is caught up in between the three mafia families is the thing I hate the most, for the most part I enjoyed 2 routes out of 5 only because I really like the love interests and think the MC was the most active in those two routes.

My faves are like this: Yang>>Orlok>Gilbert=Dante>Nicola

I’m not a huge fan of fluff and overly romantic stuff which is why those two are my favorite. Funnily enough they’re on the complete opposite sides of the spectrum lol. And Nicola was the most boring which is a bit of a downer since he’s recommended to be played first.

I’ve only played the best endings of each route so far, but I will commend that the gaming mechanic was difficult and each love interest value different character aspects such as yang’s affinity for wisdom in contrast to orlok’s affinity for kindness. I have a feeling you’ll also really enjoy yang since he basically upped my expectations in otome now lmao. What can I say, I guess I have a thing for trashy love interests (and because I relate to his cynicism on some level and love how he’s unapologetic about how horrible of a person he is in comparison to the others who try to act nice from the get-go, and maybe bc I was getting tired of the Italian mafia that the Chinese mafia was wholly welcomed to me XD)

the order in which you should play if you DO end up buying the game would be: Nicola, Yang (only available after finishing Dante or Nicola), Orlok(only available after finishing Dante or Nicola), Dante, Gilbert(available after finishing all four) and finally the mystery route (which I haven’t played yet). The best endings save you from most of the dark/worst things that can happen. But from what I’ve watched on yt some of the LI’s can be very shitty to the MC esp in other LI routes or if you get their bad endings. Though it’s not ‘Quieta’ level of dark and twisted since the r//ape scenes aren’t written as vividly or in-detail as your stories at least (phew but still 😬) despite that, I do enjoy the game though ended up only caring for less than half of it. I think Amazon is selling this game for around $30+ which is better than GameStop’s price of $50 btw!! Save money lol

Sorry for the huge wall of text 😭😭

Thank you so much for submitting this and so generously spoiler-free, and I'm tagging it #piofiore so more people can see it.

Reading this was very illuminating and I totally get what you're saying--from your descriptions so far I am ABSOLUTELY in love with Yang so far cause I love my trashy men (though I'm also angling towards Orlok ). I'll definitely take your words for the character routes in sequence! I adore when MC gets to kick ass so I totally agree with you there, I'll be sure to aim towards those routes!

Let me know what you think about the bad ends too!! I'll definitely be consulting this when I get and start Piofiore. Thank you ever so much anon!! I'm twice as excited to start it now.

#asks #piofiore #piofiore no banshou #and yeah #I'm DEFF getting it on amazon prime then thank you!!!

[humming-fly]

Sorry to be total downer but I'm not super interested in FMA any more (don't get me wrong it's a great show!) I was wondering if you might have another blog where you just kinda post other stuff? I like your humor and taste in art and still wanna stick around. Just wanted a bit of a break from the FMA asks.

lmao no worries my dude i get ya!

unfortunately this is my main blog, and my art blog is probably even More fma centric than this blog haha - over here i do tag all my fma stuff with #fma and all of my asks are tagged #reply, so you can probs blacklist those tags if you want and manage to avoid a large portion of the posts you don't like

however if that doesn't work out feel free to do what you gotta do, follow your bliss wherever it takes you anon~

#i'll remember our time together fondly anon #but fr please don't feel obliged to stay if you're not getting what you want out of it tumblr is not that serious haha #i make this blog for me and me first and my tastes are not everyone's #frankly it's a massive shock as many people put up with this as they do hahaha #reply