Why Can I Not Drive Literally Went Through My Town And My Mother Tried Being A Good Passenger Princess

why can i not drive 💀 literally went through my town and my mother tried being a good passenger princess but she kept like breathing sharply and practically praying 😭.

i will never get my license omg LMFAOO

this has nothing to do w my fic but it’s about my life and it’s a struggle LOL

snippet from a mobius/loki fic i was gon make but stopped bc i couldn’t even fathom changing the ending of the actual show 💀

“Do you know I once dreamt of death?” The voice comes out gently, breathlessly, as if they don’t even understand the need to explain a hidden section of themselves to someone.

They are sitting on a curved bench. The wood is rotten— planks fall against the cold sand.

The water’s breeze carries a piercing chill with it. He moves closer to the water’s edge; waves collapse inwards on themselves. Foam accumulates at the border, slipping back into the undertow.

The moon reflects on the lapping surface, and the lighting dims at night. It offers a simple moment of escape. Of what would be stillness.

“Why?” He asks as if he does not know.

“Have you ever heard of the notion that someone ill wishes to grow worse as proof of their ailment?” They answer. The sand plunges beneath their feet as they approach him. Their dark hair blends into the sky—even the stars do not compare to its pitchness.

“I wished for a change in fate. For the attention I so unbearably craved. All that resulted was further loneliness. When you are born of Norse gods, you have far fewer deities to pray to. I’d pray to myself.” Loki answers, staring at the expansive space of the water. How endless it seems.

“Do you regret it?” Mobius watches the God, how his expression lowers into something indistinguishable.

“My wish of dying, or loneliness?” He tilts his head towards the other, smirking slightly—his lips thin under the night.

“Neither.” He doesn’t know what he is asking.

“Do I regret not dying?” Loki questions. “Most days, I fear yes, but I don’t. If I were to die, I wouldn’t be as I am now.”

Mobius turns, “Away? A tree?” He doesn’t mean for his words to sharpen into a territory of hatred.

“Yes. I gave those who didn’t have a chance, a possibility of living.” He shreds a single smile at Mobius. “I gave you an option.”

“What if I didn’t want one?” He begins. He is acting on desire; it’s deflection. “I was happy with how things were.”

“Nothing would go as it was without me shattering the loom.” He turns. “You often have to leave something when you grow an attachment to it. I thank you for staying near me throughout the advancement of your life.”

Mobius scoffs, “You are stuck at the end of time while I live.”

“That’s how I wished for it to be.”

At the end of time, there is an absence, something void— silence that develops into pure noiselessness. Murmurs of life developed within a hazy video capture. Loki is in a state of isolation, yet he doesn’t feel alone, unlike the emotion he felt while growing up.

He has one single strand woven around his neck, twisting down his body in tendrils. The fiber of the branch is constant; the color is vibrant. And he hears the discourse within it.

It eases what would be unbearable isolation; he listens and becomes a factor in life in distant and crucial ways.

He has two sons, both with such distinct and apparent characteristics that there’s a struggle to balance them. One outperforms the other, expanding quickly further. There’s a constant battle for harmony in the house—his home.

He works as a salesman, selling jet skis. He’s known around the block as the poor mourning father whose wife suffered from a severe illness, the one who held a loose budget for babysitters. The one that would run from his house in pitch dark, wearing only his underwear in a futile pursuit to retrieve his sneaking child.

The tired father.

And god, did he love it. It was something he never knew he longed for, and once he had it, he couldn’t displace the sudden emotion of suitability.

This was undoubtedly his life.

Loki listens to the prayers of the children and the discussions of parents. And he learns from it. His chest aches from the tautness of his muscles. He sits, and he waits.

It all becomes suddenly worth it when he hears the expansion within Mobius’s life. How his daily life alters and changes from day to day. It’s beautiful the instability it holds.

'dick was the angry robin' 'jason was the angry robin' 'tim wa-' NONE OF THEM WERE 'THE ANGRY ROBIN' THEY ALL DEAL WITH THEIR TRAUMA IN THEIR OWN WAYS AND ALL OF THEM HAVE A BROAD SPECTRUM OF EMOTIONS. ALL OF THEM HAVE LOST THEIR COOL OR HAD AN OUTBURST AT SOME POINT. ITS JUST WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ARE A DEEPLY TRAUMATIZED CHILD!!!! THEY CANNOT BE REDUCED TO JUST ONE WORD THEYRE ALL COMPLEX AND THREE DIMENSIONAL CHARACTERS!!!!!

last chapter jus updated:

super hard to write it didn’t want it to end lowkey LOL