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#void fic
makorragal-312 · 4 months
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Just a little Void update for those still waiting...
Okay, so here's the deal.
I am FINALLY DONE with this damn chapter. All that needs to be done is an editing run-through and proofreading. And I was hoping to get it done today because I'm going out of the country in a few hours for the holidays and wanted to chill for the next two months once I came back.
However, due to time issues and a 10-minute glitch, I'm not gonna have time to do my final edits and post the chapter before I'm scheduled to leave for the airport.
So, Chapter 18 is gonna be posted New Year's week (specifically after New Year's Day).
Thanks for the understanding!
Happy holidays and have a happy New Year! <3
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clownpi · 1 year
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Another Void fic chapter after quite a while! Mostly just talking tho....
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iamanartichoke · 9 months
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
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killerpancakeburger · 2 months
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Imagine being a member of the Task Force who's pining after Ghost, but thinking he's not able to fall for anyone right now and may very well never be. It's fine though - you're happy with standing by his side - or at least you try to convince yourself you are. Soap has a deeper bound with him than you, but that's fine too. You would never dare to come between them. Never dare to deprive Ghost of someone he needs.
So when you see Soap in mortal peril, you don't even need to think about it. You shove him out of the way and take the bullet/knife meant for him. You survive, but barely. All is well.
Or so you think, until Ghost barges into your hospital room and rips into you. His fury is equal to the feelings you made him go through: resentment for throwing your life away so casually, fear of losing you, and the helplessness of being unable to save you.
All this time you’ve been convinced that he'd be happier with Soap alive, even if it meant you dead, so you're utterly confused in front of his rage.
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hope-to-hell · 3 months
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The thing is, when people interact with me about my stories, it gives me the drive to work on them. Even if it’s just a sentence, or a bit of editing. It’s putting enough fuel in the tank to get to the next gas station, so to speak.
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tangyangie · 10 months
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— 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐊 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!!
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we all know that saiki isn't too excited when it comes to romance.
so... how did he land you? he doesn't know either. all he does know is that you're the only person he'd actually accept romantic gestures from.
hugs, kisses, cuddling—don't expect him to jump into it suddenly at the beginning of the relationship. he'll definitely need some time do do these things, if he'd do them at all.
but, once he does sort of settle down, he basically lets you do whatever you want. so what if you're harassing him? he prefers it be you over anyone else.
and maaaybe he's okay with cuddles. a little bit. he gravitates towards you in his sleep.
cafe dates!! or, anything with sweets, at all. take him to hershey park, for all he cares—as long as he gets to buy all some candy.
he watches your TV shows with you. he does his best not to get spoiled, and if he does, then he keeps it from you and acts like he wasn't.
he takes interest in the things you like. the music genres you prefer, your favorite hobbies, and so on. unless it involves bugs, he'll probably give what you like a chance.
he tells you about his powers eventually. he doesn't really know how he expects you to act, but he definitely doesn't expect you to just shrug it off. which is exactly what you did.
"you're a what, now?"
"a psychic."
"oh. you're serious?"
"...yes."
"oh.. cool."
please buy him coffee jelly. one second of seeing him in pure bliss is filled with enough joy to last you ten lifetimes.
one time, you tried feeding him coffee jelly while making an airplane "brrrr" sound. you did the whole, "here comes the airplane!!" as you'd spin around and twist the spoon until it came to a rest in saiki's mouth.
"and... that was supposed to taste better, how?"
"it just does. i don't make the rules."
you will playfully flirt with him all the time. doesn't mean he'd respond, but he tolerates it.
from time to time, he may humor you with a quick remark to counter your statements. but, it's always out of the blue, and always will leave your face feeling like an oven with your jaw dropped.
if you think he's one to do it in public, though, then you're crazy. pda is a big no-no.
you got him a pair of sunglasses once, and he stared dead in your eyes (with his glasses on). he asked you why you thought he needed it, and you responded that they were for when his green glasses got tired.
he blinked slowly, shook his head, and ruffled your hair. (it was an excuse to wear his glasses for a bit. don't think he wouldn't read your mind. not like he can help it, anyways.)
if you're cold in public, he stands near you and uses his pyrokinesis to warm you up, and may hold your hand. in secret only. if you tell anyone, his hand in yours is as good as gone.
he doesn't really get jealous. he's fine with being alone, but if you ask him to come along, he most likely won't say no. but if teruhashi is coming along, forget about it.
you play with his hands. like... i can just imagine gently grabbing his fingers and bending them like a seesaw or a bicycle.
he makes you come with him to take care of yuuta, hoping you don't have a resemblance to anyone else in cyborg cyder man no.2, or else yuuta will be all over you.
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notes: okay guys 5 finals to go 🫡
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writeouswriter · 6 days
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People sorting ao3 solely by stats and only clicking on fics with a certain amount of kudos or comments, you will not survive the winter, nor the summer, nor at all, *brings out knife,* run
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infernal-lamb · 6 months
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more doodles, since I've been so busy! Sketched out Shamura finally....along with exploring the idea that Shamura's prophecies also appeared in abstract webs they've weaved along the years....I think its just Neat(tm)
also: when ur vessel keeps dying just to stare at you with unyielding saucer-like eyes filled with an indescribable bloodlust silently. just fucked up lamb things
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the-peak-tmnt · 1 month
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Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!
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(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)
Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.
While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.
Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.
She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.
She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.
What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.
Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.
We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.
But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.
It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.
But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.
So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.
Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.
(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)
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trimcoast · 10 months
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these two again
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hapfish · 2 months
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read neon void @sugarpasteltmnt
Art in reference to this post
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makorragal-312 · 7 months
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It's about that time again.
The time where I have to subject myself to Voltron Season 8 for the next chapter.
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clownpi · 2 years
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Trying really hard not to just write Seraphine having the dean reaction to first seeing Caitlyn. You know the one. I’m really tempted though, even if it would be really goofy. Though I guess with the tone of the story it would come off more creepy than anything else.
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Caitlyn to Jinx as Seraphine withers on the ground rambling gibberish: “You sure you want this do-I mean-human Jinx?”
Jinx:......I think.
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shrimpchipsss · 7 months
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read Living With a Tiger by x_los !
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whirlybirbs · 11 days
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BEYOND THE VOID — !
1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
( MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing:  a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.
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"Okay."
"Okay."
There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. 
In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.
"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague. 
"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock." 
"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.
"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"
"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"
Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.
She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.
Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.
"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"
On the other side of the door, your heart clenches. 
It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?
All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate. 
ALL I WANT  TO DO IS  GO HOME.
You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.
"Oh, uh... Hi guys."
Sigurd meows.
"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"
Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.
"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."
There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot. 
The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah. 
Like, big woah.
Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig. 
But this?
This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade. 
Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was. 
LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...? 
There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.
You swallow.
Your face is set in horror.
"It's not what it looks like—"
"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"
IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.
You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"
Then, it happens.
The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all. 
"Jane, don't."
Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...
Jane's face freezes.
Her brows knit.
Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"
"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.
Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."
Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.
"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"
Your eyes flicker with fear. 
And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter. 
Your voice is far away.
"It all started that Thursday."
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You thought it would be better now that someone knows. 
Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future. 
It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning. 
You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not. 
So far, acting seems to be the best course of action. 
But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.
If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused. 
You hope it all works out for her in the end. 
But, Christ this coffee is bitter. 
You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am. 
Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work. 
Mondays, man.
Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior. 
Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract. 
And so this has been home for the last four months. 
Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.
No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras. 
...No Loki.
But, plenty of whispers. 
It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one. 
Your voice is soft.
"Bruce, try the equation again."
From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.
You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.
And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.
"So it was right."
"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."
Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern. 
(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)
"Now, that was mean."
"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny. 
"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it. 
Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do. 
"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"
"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now. 
"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."
"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."
"None," Tony waggles a finger.
"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you. 
"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark. 
Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.
WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK. 
You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to. 
"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."
So you've heard.
"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."
"Understandable," you mutter absently.
Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."
...Indeed.
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Home.
Unit 1131. 
Lonely.
It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it". 
Now, it's none of that.
Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.
You drop your bag by the door. 
Your boots follow in a trail. 
Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.
But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.
It's that photo. 
The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.
Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.
It's you.
You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief. 
You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again. 
Regret is a hell of a thing.
Grief, too. 
How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline. 
So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.
In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.
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If they find Sylvie, they find you.
That's the mission.
Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different. 
Loki is different.
They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that. 
The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday. 
1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time. 
2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.
3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.
And now!
They're in London. 
1977, huh. Zaniac. 
If they find Sylvie, they find you.
...Unless you find him first.
Loki isn't exactly thrilled. 
No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet. 
It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone. 
And he's here, wasting his damn time. 
Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time. 
Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.
(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)
"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...
Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.
"Or he's undercover."
As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."
It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks. 
On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes. 
It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in. 
"Will there be a Zaniac Two?" 
The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact. 
"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"
Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time. 
"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"
"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki. 
The God sneers.
"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."
"Why thank you, Brad."
Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.
"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.
"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"
"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.
"No, no, uh, better—"
Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"
"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"
And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.
In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.
Your dress is green. Your hair is different.
There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis. 
"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."
You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."
Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"
Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.
"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."
The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt. 
His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin. 
"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.
Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.
Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers. 
He has to... He...
He needs you back. 
Now. 
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killerpancakeburger · 6 months
Text
Fic idea where, when Astarion says "Gods, you're beautiful", Tav can't help but cringe/grimace/says thank you in the most awkward tone possible because they've never or very rarely been called that, compared to all the times they've be called ugly, and they know they don't fit conventionnal beauty standards.
And it feels even worse when someone as beautiful as Astarion is the one saying it.
Obviously Astarion notices your reaction and wanna find out more. Angst/comfort ensues.
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