#Mobius M Mobius fight me challenge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tvabf · 3 years

Text

building a memory.

mobius. m. mobius x gender-neutral reader! /ao3 link.

a/n: the word count is 8.6k, contains some mentions of blood/mild description of violence, reader's description isn't specified. enjoy!!

excerpt:

"I trust you," Mobius says, simply. His smile is more genuine than you deserve.

You sigh, wrapping your hands around the cup to steep its warmth. "You shouldn't."

You've spent a considerable amount of time the last few years making sure the world doesn't end, so you're more than surprised when you find yourself before a jury, advocating for exactly why it was wrong of you to save someone's life. The life of a friend, more importantly; someone you'd go to the ends of the earth for and then back again if need be.

Now he's dead. You made it in time and they erased that for you, forced him to die because some ancient beings said he must.

You're not a child, but you want to act like one. You want to kick and fuss, cry until your eyes are red and scream until your throat is entirely raw. And yet, something - someone - stops you, and halts the beginning of your solemn sniffling.

A man. The greying hair around his temple is the first thing that catches your eyes, before you lower your gaze to his. He offers what tries to be a comforting smile, but only thickens the unsettling feeling building in your belly and roughens your nervous swallow. All eyes in the room are now on him and the confidence of his walk, approaching the judge moments away from dishing out your unfair verdict.

"Hey, Ravonna."

"Mobius, please--"

"Come on, Vonna," Mobius pleads, his hands tucked with care into his pockets moving to grasp the bench. "Let me handle this one. I'll do all the paperwork, you know I will. And they could be a valuable asset, everyone here is thinking it. Come on."

Ravonna looks at him, sarcasm dripping from her words when she says, "You want to recruit someone historically known for betraying every possible ally they could ever have? Mobius, I always knew you were insane, but this is unbelievably stupid. Even for you."

"I'm wounded," Mobius fake pouts, casting a look behind him at you. Any semblance of a fight has been deflated from you, eyes red with unshed tears and a small splatter of blood dried to your cheek; your friend, now dead and gone. "Come on, just look at them, will you? They're no threat, and even if they were, they have no magic here. We're safe!"

"They almost killed Thanos before we reset that timeline," Ravonna hisses, before sighing, tired of arguing. The crease between her eyebrows softens. "Anything they do, it's on your head, Mobius. And if they screw up or you screw up, they'll get pruned, no warning or arguments. Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?"

Mobius grins. "Hey, when have I ever backed down from a challenge?"

"Never, that's precisely the issue," Ravonna mutters, before dismissing the case.

Mobius turns to you, hair falling around you and a haunted glaze settling over your face - not the appearance of a powerful enchanter or a mostly redeemed villain, but a person. A well-known traitor of a person, but a person nonetheless, and maybe it's the way you glance up at him and he catches his first good look at his face, but you're striking underneath the grief buried amongst your features. Apologetic and understanding, he holds an arm out and motions for you to step towards the side door.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion before you reluctantly walk, trying and failing still to shake the last image you got of your friend.

"... and I'm sort of being thrown a bone here by everyone," Mobius is saying, "so your cooperation is paramount if you don't want to get pruned. Which is as unpleasant as it sounds, promise." The reassuring smile he gives you is bright. "So, movie about your life, you up for it?"

The answer is a resounding, and painfully honest, no.

He shows you anyway.

You flail awake three times in a row from nightmares - memories, not yours, but a version of you's - before you finally sit up and stumble out the door of your room, jacket wrapped tight around yourself.

These halls are new and all so similar that you're sure you've gone in a circle before you come to a stop in the library and spot a familiar figure.

"Hey," you try, voice thick with sleep. "Do you know where I can get some coffee around here?"

"You take sugar?" he asks.

You fall into the chair nearest to you with little grace, and when he sets a mug of coffee before you and takes the seat across from you, your gaze gets away from you. It splashes across the grey of his hair and the lines of age pressed mildly into his skin, and his eyes - on you, curious.

"How's the sleep going?"

You lean forward and your forehead makes a colliding sound against the tabletop.

"That good, huh?"

You laugh. And he laughs. And maybe things here could be okay; maybe you have no choice but to make sure they are.

The TVA is, well - it sure is … something.

Time passes here differently, a purgatory of sorts between life and death, time and stillness, love and hate. Nothing is quite the way you had initially expected, and it's taking some time to work out the inner dynamics and workings; some you have down pat, like the smile Casey will give you if you pass him, and Ravonna's soft spot for Mobius.

If he were possibly anyone else, you're not sure he'd get away with even a small percentage of what he has. Casey told you what you think was two weeks ago - or maybe a month ago, or maybe yesterday morning - that Ravonna was more or less pissed that Mobius hadn't just cuffed you to his desk and made you write reports for him until your hand cramped.

("That sounds… torturous. Did she really say that?"

"No. Was probably thinking it, though. She's kinda like that, but she's cool. I like her."

"Isn't she your boss? I think you have to say you like her.")

Regardless, you like her, and Casey was right. She's rough on the edges but she's cool, and she does offer you a polite nod when she passes you. Most of the time you're accompanied by Mobius and you figure she's keeping up appearances of being completely trusting in his ability to do this, other times you think maybe, just maybe, she might begin to like you. It doesn't matter to you much, aside from the fact that it would obviously be nice if your boss, who happens to be your friend's friend and responsible for whether or not you get pruned sometime in the near future, liked you.

A few hours between Mobius getting chewed out for letting you wander around by yourself and you reading restricted material you snuck from behind the librarian's back, Ravonna smiles at you. It's uneasy at first, like the predatory look a lion might give a gazelle before snapping its neck with its very powerful teeth, until you think you recognise the slightest hint of warmth in it.

You smile back.

Mobius lowers the papers in his hand and looks at you over them, raising an amused eyebrow. "Funnily enough, it doesn't say anywhere in your file that you have any respect for authority figures. I'm pretty sure it says the exact opposite, actually."

You shrug, resisting the urge to jokingly flip him off. Until curiosity inevitably gets the better of you and you lean closer to him, conspiratorially, and say, "Does Renslayer have any friends? Besides you, I mean."

The expression that settles on Mobius' face is midway between curious and only slightly mocking, and his voice is gentle: "I don't think she considers me a friend. We're coworkers."

Coworkers. Not friends.

Right.

Deflated, you move away, hitting the back of your chair with a dull ache settling in your lower spine. "She smiled at me." Then, noticing Mobius' glance, add, "And I thought maybe she, you know, was trying to be friendly. I was hoping she was being friendly, actually. Women like Renslayer don't just smile at people for the sake of niceties, and now you've got me worried she knows something I don't."

"Hey, don't worry," Mobius replies, "if she was planning on pruning you, I'd know."

"That doesn't help in the slightest," you wince, clicking your pen against the table surface. "Do you trust her?"

"As a general rule, I tend to stupidly trust most people," he's scribbling something at the corner of a dog-eared page. "Especially magic users who have a tendency of screwing over everyone naive enough to trust them. It's in my nature. I'm an idiotically trusting guy."

Well, ouch.

You're sure the momentary hurt shows on your face, but you school your features into neutrality before Mobius can see the impact of his words. You're still thinking about your movie reel and the steel of your eyes before Thanos, the you that you never were; the you that you would have been if you hadn't disrupted the sacred timeline to save your friend.

("This doesn't have a happy ending."

Ears trained towards the sound of your own grieved screaming, bile acid in your throat: "I figured as much.")

"Noted," you reply, instead. And scoop up some of the books you're finished with. "Try not to solve this without me. I'll be back."

Mobius waves you off, and when you return too many minutes later, he pushes a fresh coffee towards you. It's made the way you like it and cracks the stiffness of your fingers as they stretch to take it. It's a generic cup, familiar in its plainess.

"I trust you," Mobius says, simply. His smile is more genuine than you deserve.

You sigh, wrapping your hands around the cup to steep its warmth. "You shouldn't."

"I'm starting to think Christians had the right idea," you tell Mobius, sliding him a folder with one hand. The other is gripping a pen. "Hell and separation from their God. Neverending psychological torment in the form of endless paperwork."

Mobius spares you a smile. "Well, this Hell is missing its eternal furnace, it couldn't possibly be any colder in here." His slender fingers brush through the papers set in front of him and his shoulders shake under his jacket for emphasis, "You are right about one thing, though."

You glance up at him, tracing the corners of his grin. "And what's that?"

"Paperwork sucks."

"If you believe they have potential, I'm inclined to trust you," Ravonna's voice is softened through her closed door. "But I need to review the facts, Mobius. They have an obvious issue with authority, and you've seen their history. Bottom line, they're completely untrustworthy. And keeping them here is one thing, but taking them into the field with you when they're dangerous and unpredictable is another. What on earth are you thinking?"

Outside, you play with a loosened button on your jacket. There's a part of you that thinks this is pretty funny, at a first glance; someone who was once a known villain, now sitting outside the office of someone you hardly know who has your entire life and future in their hands. Like you're a kid outside the principal's office. Like some pathetic parody of yourself.

Mobius is too quiet to be heard. You realise maybe he's given up and isn't saying a word because he's realised Ravonna is completely right - you're a lost cause, and he's the fool giving you a chance you don't deserve.

Maybe he doesn't trust you. Maybe all these late nights sharing lamplight and coffee and smiles, is some half-baked plan to trick you. Or maybe you really are just too far gone to earn whatever it is he's willing to go to bat for you for.

You go to stand and walk off somewhere, get some fresh air and clear your head, and try not to think about this. Until you're halted a few steps away from your seat by the familiar drawl of Mobius' voice.

"I trust them."

Ravonna sighs. Tired, exhausting, losing. "There's nothing I can say to make you give up on them, is there?"

"No."

The certainty of the words seizes the breath from your lungs and you stumble back to your chair by Ravonna's door, fingers grasping the loose button on your jacket. It's grounding, especially as your ears prick towards the sound of hushed, arguing voices. Hers, mostly; though sometimes his is there, singing your praises as though there's anything about you worth praising.

"One chance, that's all," Ravonna says, finality rich in her words. "If you screw this up, Mobius--"

"One chance is all I need, I promise," Mobius presses.

You can tell he's smiling, confident and sure and promising. You can also tell Ravonna is frowning, that there's a permanent vertical line carving itself between her eyebrows that only deepens the more Mobius pushes her on this.

The doorknob to the room tilts to the side, halting momentarily and there's her voice again, gentler than you've ever heard it - "Do us both a favour and don't screw this up, alright? You only get so many tries and you're pushing it, Mobius." Then, louder, like she knows you're listening, "If this sad project of yours disregards the TVA, the Time Keepers will want them pruned, and I'll side with that decision, no matter what you say."

"I understand completely," Mobius replies, completely unbothered.

You, however, are completely bothered. Your hands are racked with nerves you're struggling to shake, and you can't find it in yourself to numb your momentary guilt enough to look at Mobius when he's standing there, expectant and waiting for you. All you've done, how were you supposed to know there'd be consequences like this? And there's anger aside from the guilt, wanting to insist and defend that you have been loyal and you were punished, that you tried to sacrifice yourself to save your only friend and these people ruined that for you.

Mobius calls your name.

You curl your hands into fists, eyeing Ravonna's door. You can't look at Mobius, because for all you want to, your heart is sinking in your chest and your carefully hidden grief is untangling itself, revealing itself in your reddened eyes and the exhale you wrap your next careful words in - "I didn't betray everyone."

Ignoring the saddened look of understanding and knowing that settles on you, you find your unsteady feet. The button on your jacket has come off in your hand, pressing against your palm, and it takes everything you have to not go to Ravonna and ask to be pruned.

"I was loyal, and I was punished," you add, voice rough. "I won't be loyal again. You've misplaced your trust, Mobius."

His warm eyes find yours, sincerity clear. "I still trust you," he says, candid. "The least you could do is try and earn it."

You don't remember falling asleep with a jacket on. Your face is settled tiredly on your arm, the cold of the table against your bare forearm, but the jacket around you is warm. You really, really don't remember it.

You adjust, and your fingers brush a piece of crookedly ripped paper, handwriting you recognise, left sitting on the table beside your wrist:

had to run. don't drool on your paperwork,

MMM.

Being out in the field…. it really isn't what you thought it'd be, to put it politely. You and a half a dozen Hunters, and Mobius, who one of the Hunters referred to almost bitterly as your 'keeper'.

Your shoes squelch unpleasantly in the mud beneath you, and you blink cold rain from your eyelashes to peer up at the grey sky. It reminds you of the cool grey of Mobius' hair, currently visible in your peripheral, and you wrench your hands from your pockets to expose them to the storm; to feel the gentle patter of rain on your hands, calloused from paperwork.

There's rain drying still on your jacket and frizz halo-ing your hair, and you've been too busy missing the earth to think about how unpleasantly damp your socks are in your shoes. But you expected more chaos than this, more fight and excitement than merely standing here, hands held out with an open-mouthed smile, collecting drops of rain in your smooth palms and Mobius standing securely at your side.

He's watching you, you're aware. There's a smile curling in one corner of his mouth and amusement sparked in his eyes, hands safe from the weather in his pockets. Mobius' mouth opens to say something before you're knocked aside, magic scenting the air, and then he's reaching for you in the hustle of hunters trying to secure a Variant.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Mobius says, hardly heard above the crackle of thunder.

Your shoes struggle for grip on the soaked concrete, fingers digging into the arms on you, and it takes a moment for you to realise this isn't the claustrophobic walls of the TVA - these are your hunting grounds, and already magic is speaking at your fingertips, slowly swelling to life with disuse and giving you the insatiable high that power gives you.

Another Hunter drops, the sound of their baton hitting the ground is dulled by your own voice, rising above the noise to reach Mobius' ears. Your hair is falling in sad, soaked clumps down your face and you barely manage to meet Mobius' eyes through it.

"Permission to use my magic?"

You barely wait for his answer before the smooth amber of your magic is more than the sensation of it tingling your hands - it lights the air, fused with a bright flash of lightning, and it throws the rogue Variant off their feet. Their magic dies out, fizzling to a slow end, and your amber sparks encase them securely.

Mobius' hand closes comfortingly around your arm, giving you a soft squeeze and polished smile before stepping towards the nearest fallen Hunter. He kneels beside them in the wet, rain on the concrete soaking through his jeans, and you still when a different Hunter's eyes land accusingly on you. The moment is short-lived once another hauls the Variant to their feet and calls for help through the loud patter of rain that's growing heavier with each passing second.

You're thoroughly soaked. Your hair is heavier than usual, and a chill is beginning to settle unwanted within you. Your eyes follow the scene before you, from the captured Variant to the fallen Hunters to Mobius.

And time passes in agonisingly small increments, from Mobius helping three Hunters get on their feet to him meeting your eye across the way and approaching, hair plastered to his head with the rain and already tugging at one of his sleeves to shrug off his thick jacket.

"Good job back there," he says, draping his jacket around you, hands warm against your cold skin. "You alright? You're shaking."

"I'm fine," you shout to be heard over the storm, the shake in your hands uncontrollable reaching to secure his jacket further around you.

He stands too close and you're all too aware of him in your space, and the lingering body heat of his clinging to his jacket wrapped around you, and how the rain hasn't quite managed to wash his scent from his jacket and it smells like him; it smells warm, like his body and his smile and his hands on you moments before.

Oh.

Oh no.

"I'm fine," you repeat, brushing a wet lock of hair from your face. "Took me by surprise."

"You did good, don't worry about it," he replies, nearly knocking you aside with how sincere he is. He's beaming, pride colouring his cheeks, and then he's settling a hand on your back, saying, "Come on," and carefully steering you towards the huddled Hunters, not dropping his grip from you.

You almost lean into it before you remember Ravonna's voice, the shiver that grips you when you recall her calling you his sad project, like you're an old toy that needs repairing. And that's what you are to him, really - this is his way of proving himself, because he's confident and sure of himself, and he took a gamble on you and for his pride's sake needs to prove it was the right thing to do.

"Hey, you're shivering," Mobius notes.

You tighten your trip on his jacket and pretend not to hear him over the rain hammering down on you, blinking away droplets settling on your eyelashes. You're sure you look ridiculous, Mobius' soaked jacket curled around you and your hair drenched and the unmistakable painful clench of your jaw. It's taking everything you have not to ask him - to whirl around, prod your finger into his chest, rage fighting your obvious upset - what this means, if it means anything, or if you really are his broken toy.

Mostly, you want to know if he's done this before. Taking in the damaged things, things that would be nothing more than smoke and a whisper if he hadn't stepped in, and reforming them, just to show Ravonna that he could. You really didn't think she'd get in your head so much with that, and it was her hushed voice behind the door reminding Mobius that his chances are running out that first settled the idea in your head that you definitely aren't the first of his "projects", and you likely won't be the last.

You wonder if any of them ever felt the way you do. If they breathed him in and had that startling moment of realisation, and if it's then they were pruned for going against their primary purpose: serve the TVA, always and forever or whatever.

Dark of the evening cascading down around you, you peek beside you at Mobius. The smile he's giving you is tender, his hand hovering near you almost protectively is the same.

"Ready?" he asks.

You nod.

Your stomach churns.

You consider going straight to Ravonna to request reassignment.

("Maybe field work just isn't for me," you'll say.

She'll look at you, clutch her pen a little tighter. "Good. Dismissed."

And Mobius will--

well, you'd really rather not imagine the look on his face when he finds out. But it's better for both of you if you're out of his hands and he doesn't have to one day be responsible for your nearing inevitable breakdown; still, it's going to break your heart, broken toy metaphor or not.)

You sigh, unsure, and the man whose shadow you're puppeteering let's his hand rest on the small of your back once again.

"Come on," he murmurs, smiling still.

The closest you get to speaking with Ravonna is standing outside her door, your hand hovering inches from it. You're overly aware of your damp hair dripping water on the floor and your sad sniffling, before you relent and tuck your hand back safely in your pocket.

The second time you try, you don't even make it to the end of the hall, just stand there looking at her door looming in the distance.

Another time, you promise yourself. Next time you pass here, you'll find it in yourself to knock and request reassignment away from Mobius. Another time - meaning not today.

Paperwork does really, really suck. Even more after a field operation.

You set down your pen to work the cramp from your hand, reading carefully over the inked words you've already got down. It reads like a child's twisted version of a summer vacation; you reach with stiff fingers for your coffee and hope whatever you've done will be enough.

Across the table, Mobius' attention flickers to you, his fingers paused midway through flicking his page. "Wishing for the eternal blaze of hell yet?" he asks.

A smile tugs at one corner of your mouth, eyes softening on him. "Maybe a little."

It's not everyday a Variant is found at the end of the world, Ravonna tells you, handing you a folder for a case she wants you to help handle personally. For whatever reason, the smooth manilla folder triggers something unpleasant in your hands, and you resigned to tucking it under your arm while you walked.

An apocalypse. The end of the world. A Variant.

Sounds familiar. Sounds like you, like Thanos and the ruins of the ship carrying the survivors of Asgard to safety and the end of your world, like how you were quick enough to save your friend and then someone decided you weren't meant to be. And now you're here. And now these people who accidentally avoid death or take a wrong turn on the very wrong day are people you're helping hunt down.

Guilt doesn't go down well. The coffee that Mobius made you, however, does.

Your eyes follow each line of the report, hovering anxiously over, "eating," and then again over, "rising dead", before you push the folder closed and knock your foot against Mobius' leg. He takes a few seconds to draw his attention from his own work before he looks at you, and it's with the same endearingly intrigued and affectionate eyes you've grown accustomed to.

"Zombies?" you ask, incredulous.

"What year, 2038 or 2062?"

You pause, eyebrows furrowing together and you raise your head to examine him. Aside from the amusement shining bright on his face, he's completely and utterly serious, and after a moment too long of simply staring, you say, exasperated, "It happens twice?"

The smile you earn in return - your foot still pressed to his calf, his eyes rich and warm on you, paperwork and TVA responsibilities forgotten for the time being - is worth finding out twice in your lifetime the undead will rise; it's worth anything, really. Every time his attention falls on you like this, an ineffable yearning begins to weigh at you just a little more, your focus dropping from his eyes to his lips with an indecent desire to have them on yours.

And your thoughts have no choice but to shyly flicker to something less innocent, something more--

"Have I got something on my face?" Mobius asks, making a show of lifting his hand to wipe his cheek.

Startled from thought, you blink. Agonisingly slow. "What?"

He leans forward, voice hushed and says, "I'm teasing you."

And he is, mirth brightening the gentle upwards turn of his lips and the pink dusting his cheeks. You're not sure whether to be ashamed or not, but embarrassment does rise to your face, now hot and startlingly aware of your actions, before he gives you another look, fond and undeservingly delicate. He's going to say something and whatever it is, it's probably going to break your heart.

You swallow, nervous and aware, open your mouth before he can - "So," you try, voice roughened, "zombies, huh?"

Snow litters the palms of your polyester gloves, little flakes of white a stark contrast to the navy blue. The man standing too close to your side shuffles closer, breath like summer against the lobe of your ear and the exposed slope of your neck. You can smell the lingering remnants of the spice of his cologne clinging to him, a habitual scent for you to breathe in after so many months at his side, and his body heat seeps against you in a way that has you instinctively pressing closer.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know. Ravonna told me it's a standard Variant," he exhales, and it's white in the air and hot against your uncovered skin. "Unless you came for the snow, and not my company."

You glance at him, smoothing your gaze over the curves of his face and the way the cold has reddened the tip of his nose. The corners of your mouth quirks upwards at the thought of reaching out and delicately pressing your finger against it, before you blink the thought away as quickly as it came, and ignore how intimate this moment has become. You can see the beginnings of stubble dotting along his jawline and your eyes lift, hover over the pink of his mouth, and then settle on his eyes.

"We're partners," you clear your throat, wipe your gloved hands on your pants. "I figured you were going, I probably should as well."

His steady admiration - you see it, pretend it doesn't make your heart beat harsh and your breath catch in your throat - lands on your lips, his own parting as he readies himself to speak.

"Partners," he repeats, white snow caught endearingly in his grey's. He's debating himself, you know, and it's when one of his hands moves and his fingers close around your wrist with a light grip that a Hunter's voice shatters the glass moment.

"Variant!"

Watching the unknowing woman - a thirty-six year old Cinthia Walsh, a criminal for missing a flight out Winnipeg, Canada that she was supposed to die on - stumble back and hold her hands out defensively, fear splayed easily read across her face, triggers something hidden inside you. Upset, anger, shame - a sweep of emotions powering you forward away from Mobius, amber magic sparking your fingertips and the Hunter's attention snapping to you.

"Variant, this isn't your concern, why don't you--"

You hold up a gloved hand, breathing laboured and cold embracing you. "She's afraid," your half smile is sardonic, magic scenting the air. You catch Cinthia's attention and offer her a more genuine, kinder expression. "Everything's going to be alright, okay, Cinthia? If you come willingly, they won't hurt you because they'll have no reason to. And I'm not going to let them hurt you, but you need to co-operate."

The TVA is good, you try to say, but it isn't true. Nightmares have you awake all hours of what you think is night, your hands have permanent calluses from clutching your pen too tight, the coffee is nothing like they used to make at the cafe near your apartment -- the TVA is a prison. Of all the offences to drag you from your life and leave you stumbling to catch your feet in a timeless organisation following the word of madmen, it was saving your friend. The friend you saw die in the film they handcrafted to show you your best moments.

A Hunter raises their baton. There's a flash of amber and it's gone, lost in snow and drawing half a dozen pairs of eyes to you.

"Cinthia is coming willingly," you say.

The tension in the air is thick, before a voice cuts through, mediating and politely confident: "H-22," it addresses the quiet Hunter, the one hovering unsure if they should intervene, "can you please show the Variant to the TVA?"

A different Hunter closes the distance between yourself and them, closed fist punching half-heartedly against your arm. If their expression wasn't so torn with anger, it could be mistaken for comradery, but you see it for what it is; a warning, written in their glare and clenched teeth moments before they pass by you, shoulder bumping yours.

The breath is forced from your lungs, your trembling hands struggling to find your pockets. What the hell were you thinking? Ravonna's going to prune you for that. Shit shit shit--

"Hey, calm down," kind, a pair of hands holding either side of your arms, thumbs smoothing comfort and warmth into you once again. "You did good."

Mobius.

You catch your breath, inhaling deep the familiar scent of Mobius' cologne and willing your body to still. "That was so stupid, are you kidding me?" you croak, amber sparks clinging to your fingers dissipating to nothing. "Ravonna--"

Mobius' mouth shapes your name, bringing you back to him with its tenderness. "I don't care what Ravonna thinks right now. Are you okay?" He says it slowly, deliberately. Then, volume dropping, he adds, "If you're not, tell the truth. Either way, nothing's going to happen to you, okay? I won't let it."

"I know, I trust you," you breathe.

Snow scatters both of you in white, and the silence that follows is bathed in different shades of a snowstorm and how loud he has to raise his voice to be heard above the wind rushing through your ears: "That's my line." And he's moved closer to be heard, and your entire body angles slightly into him, his hands on you and his face nears yours, and you part your lips to say something, anything, before the warmth of him pressing a kiss to your forehead stuns any words straight away from you.

"Sure you're okay?"

Your jaw clenches, gloved hands reaching subconsciously out of fear he'll move away. "I'm fine," you reassure him. Except you're not; you shake with the realisation that you've made a fatal error sticking around, and this warmth spreading through your chest says entirely too much about your feelings for Mobius. Your heart is bruised but beating, your skin tingles with his kiss, his hands on your arms through your jacket are unbearably not close enough to touching your skin, and you hurt.

You hurt.

You imagine crossing the last few boundaries between you and him, and telling him and--

("I want to kiss you," you'd say.

And he wouldn't say anything. Not now. Not ever.)

-- nothing.

H-22 stands watching, contemplation resting in their face. "The Variant has been secured. Renslayer is present for judgement."

Mobius absentmindedly wets his bottom lip, focused nowhere in particular, deep in thought. "Of course she is. Tell her we'll be there."

H-22 stays, door to the TVA flickering with life behind them. "Renslayer would like to see you in her office after the Variant's judgement," they press, and then step aside, gesturing to the door. "I'll show your Variant to their room in the meantime."

Mobius' hands fall from you, but not before you turn to the Hunter and Mobius' hand instead finds the expanse of your lower back. "No need, we'll be attending the judgement together." He looks at you, a hidden few words shy in his eyes, "Won't we, partner?"

"Yeah," you reply, nervous intake of breath cold. Then, upon seeing this for what it is, (Mobius is giving you the chance to attend Cinthia Walsh's judgement, be there for her like you promised), you add, more confidently, "Yes, we'll be attending."

His hand stays where it is, grounding and near, on the small of your back the entire way.

Deafening, frightening silence. Outside the room you trace the lines of your palm, crane your neck to hear better.

"I warned you what would happen, didn't I, Mobius?" Ravonna's voice is cold, though underlined with care. "If this goes sideways--"

"It won't, it hasn't," he replies, easy as anything. "I trust them, they've earned it."

Silence, again. Mobius takes it for dismissal and reaches for the door.

"If it helps any," Ravonna's stern tone weakens, and Mobius stops, "I'm rooting for you and your Variant. Just -- please don't make me regret it."

Mobius huffs a laugh, turning the doorknob in his hand. "They're not my Variant, Ronna."

Whatever Ravonna says next, it's too quiet to hear.

"You think everyone can be forgiven?"

Mobius' eyes drift from wherever they were concentrated in the distance to focus on you, sweeping admiringly over the outline of your face. "I think if you want to be forgiven, you can be. Just gotta want it enough. Gotta want to be good."

Hands gripping the cool railing, palms turning it warm with your fingers wrapped tightly around it, you meet his gaze. You're not surprised to find him already looking at you; it happens more than you'll admit.

"I want it," you say.

"Then you'll get it."

Of all his broken toys -- all his challenges -- all the Variants he called "Chance" -- everyone he's ever tried to help, you hope you're his favourite.

You've never seen quite so much blood. It's thick on your hands, warm and sticky between your fingers, and there's a ringing in your left ear - it's droning, distracting, worrying that you can't make it out with your right.

"Stay with me," you think you say. You're pretty sure you've been saying it for the past few minutes, since the entire room flew inwards and everyone else disappeared from view, but it's grounding, and you keep saying it when the Hunter's eyes have since fluttered shut and the heat on your back grows warmer and there's another pair of hands joining yours.

They're unfamiliar and fair, pressing down harder on your own. "We need pressure," they tell you and the room and no one in particular.

"Where's everyone else?" you manage, despair tightening around your heart. "There were eight of us--"

"They're dead," the voice replies, adding softly, "Keep adding pressure or she'll bleed out."

Smoke is coaxing down your throat and through your nose, grey and thick and suffocating. Your hands tremble when you move them away, when the Hunter is long since dead and the person beside you is helplessly kicking at a fallen heap of wooden planks blocking the exit. The smoke is blinding, but not enough to shield you from the sight of reddened blood staining your palms; you think back to where they were only hours ago, the amiable way Mobius' fingers had closed around your wrist and then entwined with your own.

(Mobius' hands carefully adjust your collar, before they drop away from you, one finding its place at his side and the other sliding to smooth his fingers featherlight against wrist, before his hand is resting briefly in yours.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he warns, but his eyes are weary with worry.

"I might need an alphabetized list," you joke, but your eyes are heavy with dread.)

Gasping, you draw your jacket over the lower half of your face and inhale deep, breathing in the lightly filtered smoke filling the room. It burns your throat and fresh tears spring to your eyes, hands slick with drying blood wetting your face, and you stand on unsteady legs that are weak beneath you.

"TemPad?" you rasp.

The Hunter kicks the planks of wood one last time, sweat gleaming along their forehead and breaths little more than heavy pants. "I-- I didn't have it when-- when whatever that was happened. Someone else had it, I don't remember who."

One hand smothering your face in your jacket for safety, you drop to your knees, your free hand is quivering as it reaches towards the nearest fallen Hunter to search for the TemPad, fingers ignoring the cool flesh they brush against. The first one is fruitless, and you stumble towards the second, navigating lightheaded around debris and sharp glass littering nearly every spare inch of ground.

You wheeze an inhale, fingers coated with ash and disturbed dust when they brush the pockets of the second Hunter. Your knees are bloodied, their aching sharp, and your thoughts drift to ones of normalcy - hot coffee waiting for you, a shower, clean air, the report Ravonna will want that you're brutally aware you might not have the chance to write, Mobius telling you he trusts you, Mobius smiling at you, Mobius' broken toy of a person shattered beyond repair after he granted them a second chance, Mobius and the sensation of his hand in yours.

Mobius.

You got what you think is four months, or maybe three, or five if you count all the in between time. Four, maybe, good months. You wonder if he'll remember how you take your coffee, the way his jacket settled over your shoulders, and your smile and your laugh, or if you'll be another lost chance in a long line of discarded projects.

God, you hate him. Except you don't. Except you're going to die and you definitely love him.

Oh.

You love him. You love him.

Your hands become too clumsy to retrieve the TemPad from the second Hunter's pocket and you reason it's because the blood clinging still to your hands is making it too slick to grab, but you know it's realisation. You know it's sinking in that you'll more than likely never see him again and your entire body is beginning to rack with unshed sobs, building a dam of tears in your throat amongst the home the smoke has made, and so your damn hands just-- they won't stay still.

You love him.

He'll never know.

Before you can retrieve the TemPad, movement and voices envelop the stale atmosphere, bringing air not yet tainted by the burnt remnants of ash. There's a flash of light you know relatively well enough to recognise, and footsteps advance through it, with shouts and calls of names, and your hands stay frozen in the moment, clutching the smashed remains of the dead Hunter's TemPad.

Tension dropping momentarily from your shoulders, your body jolts to life when a sturdy pair of hands grip you, familiar and warm and hard to keep still when they blur over the blood stained on your hands.

"I got you," they soothe, hands tight enough to hurt as they haul you onto your weakened legs. "Is it yours?"

Your throat is sore, voice wrecked, "No, not mine."

Momentary relief flares across Mobius' expression before he solemms, and you're coughing something fierce into the safety of his now dry jacket and his sturdy frame, breathing deep against him. He came for you, you know -- your fingers curl in the material of his shirt, holding him closer with the strength your earlier epiphany gave you. Your cheeks are wet with tears from coughing, trying to shake the smoke from your lungs, and they seep into Mobius' jacket, and you have to be a mess right now but he's clutching you to him all the same.

Swallows pained, you inhale deep before turning properly into Mobius, arms joining behind his neck and burying your face against him. His arms embrace you immediately, tight and warm, and safer than any other home you've ever had.

"You did good," he's saying.

Tears blur your vision and you're stumbling forward, not able to think of anything aside from Mobius' cologne strong in the crook of his neck and how the Hunter's TemPad was smashed, so if he hadn't come to find you, you would be dead and he wouldn't be right here, holding you like he was made to.

You gasp for air, aware of your struggling inhales, and it's as if Mobius comes to awareness, like he didn't know this room was burning and trying to take everything in it with it. He lets you go, but his hands smooth the ash on your cheeks, the chalky grey coating the bare estate of your skin. His breathing is fast, little more than panting, and there's a billion thoughts crossing behind his eyes before he steps away and takes your hand, leading you towards the bright passageway.

-- and then the smoke has dissipated and you're taking your first breath of fresh air with lungs that were near bursting, and the sound of the atmosphere suddenly clears.

The TVA, clean and safe and yours.

Clarity is slow to find you, your lungs immediately filling themselves with clean air and the burn clawing up your throat resigns, though only slightly. Your adjusting eyes search for Mobius and find his attention already fully on you, ash undetectable in the grey of his hair and the blood from your hands streaked on his clothes.

You open your mouth to apologise.

"Are you okay?" he asks, hushed. His jaw trembles with fear, and he's so afraid, and his hands are cold when they surge forward, carefully taking your face between his palms and examining the stinging cuts decorating your cheeks.

"Mobius, I'm fine," you reassure him. "Just -- it's mostly smoke inhalation, alright?"

A weight drops from his shoulders. He's hesitant to move away, thumbs brushing soothingly on the smooth skin of your cheeks and careful to avoid the scratches caused by the explosion. Masses of emotions flicker across his face quick as they came; upset at your drying tears, remorse at the blood drying in the lines of your hands and along his collar from your hands gripping him, and --

-- love, open and vulnerable and yours for the taking. It's the one you recognise best, because it's reflected across from him on your own face. It's in the slightly parted state of your lips, your fingers clutching him too tight in fear of him suddenly not being there, in each and every breath with your eyes connected to his own.

He's your friend, your keeper, your partner. Words that are impossible to grasp, swelling your impossibly large heart and spilling your love out of each blink of heavy eyes and each step of weary feet, and each movement of hands that haven't looked right since the first time you saw them on him and couldn't imagine them belonging anywhere else.

You love him.

("I love you," you should say.

He'd hold you closer, think about kissing you, reply, "I love you, too.")

Instead, you resign yourself to staring. The scent of smoke and dusted concrete is clinging to you like bad perfume, pressed into your hair and skin and clothes, and it's not entirely ideal; it doesn't help that you went there in a group of eight and you were one of two lucky ones who returned to the TVA. Survivor's guilt is something you know well, and it chisels away at you with practiced hands.

Mobius clears his throat. "I'll help you to your room, c'mon."

You nod.

Your heart leaps.

In the throes of near death, you forgot how much you'd miss warm showers. The water unravels small remnants of debris from your hair, washes the coat of dust and dirt from your skin, unstains your bloodied hands; it works the knots from between your shoulder blades, curls around you with soothing steam and sudsy cleanliness.

You lean your head back and let the stream kiss your neck, breathing deep and hard, and exhaling around the stubborn ache of your throat. As nice as it is, your thoughts toss between savouring it and almost being ruined by your overthinking mind. Mobius, fear winding his jaw shut and nerves forcing his normally still hands to quiver as they touched you, and how you longed to kiss him more then than you ever have.

And his voice. Breaking, asking if the blood on your hands was yours.

Oh, Mobius.

The water from the shower head splashes down on you, and you shiver despite its warmth.

"One Minuteman came back, and your Variant," Ravonna replaces the cap of the brandy and pushes a half full glass towards Mobius. "The Time Keepers aren't pleased, and I'm doing what I can--"

"--But?"

Ravonna sips her drink then busies herself with staring down at the light reflected on its surface. "Mobius," she warns, fight falling from her voice and temperate eyes falling on him, "Please tell me I was right to not have them reset."

The alcohol in Mobius' grip sits undrank, fingers gripping it near painfully. "You'll take my word for it?"

"I'll take your word, but I need it first."

Mobius thinks about the first time he made you coffee, how perfectly his jacket fits around you, your smile and your laugh, and the way he glows around you unlike anything else. He thinks about how he loves you, all consuming.

Ravonna wants his word.

He gives it easily.

The TVA is colder than you remember, arms folded over your chest to protect you from its chill.

Admittedly, all it does is take your mind back to the Variant in Canada; Mobius' lips sounding out the word partner, the kiss he adorned your forehead with, how close he stood, the way his hand on the small of your back had him standing even closer. Everything reminds you of him.

Even sitting here alone in your bathroom missing the hot shower, all you can think about is how much you wish he was here with you. In the quiet solitude of your home, you crave the cadence of his voice and his side pressed to yours and his every quirk that comprise the little pieces of why you love him.

You're smoothing down your damp hair when a shy, unsure knock sounds at your door.

"It's open," you call, drying your hands on the thighs of your pants.

Mobius, bloodied clothes discarded and something more casual slipped on, and a smile you recognise as one reserved solely for you is the complete picture standing in your doorway. A loose few pieces of hair fall across his forehead and he steps in, closing the door behind him, and your eyes busy themselves taking him in.

"Long time no see," you say, a weak attempt at a joke. It's ruined by your croaky throat and reddened eyes, but Mobius smiles in response all the same.

"I wanted to see how you were," he explains, hands resting on his pants pockets. "Are you alright?"

You allow yourself a moment of consideration, to throw every last minute here at the TVA through your mind and every single thing that's gone wrong, and so you answer honestly, pushing yourself to your feet with a firm, "No, I'm not alright."

You don't have many words to describe the way he looks at you then, usual confidence shaken, but you'll settle somewhere between ethereal and sad, like he almost can't believe after all of this that he'd ever hear you admit it's all getting to you. Which it is, but not for the reasons he thinks; you're cast back to earlier with empty hands searching for a last hope that wasn't a last hope at all, and wanting nothing more than to see Mobius again and just -- just tell him you love him, like nothing else matters besides that.

"What do you need?" he asks, keeping the distance between you only broken by you. There's a crease between his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth are slightly quirked in a frown, and both deepened considerably when he heard you speak.

What do you need?

You breathe in a shaky, clean breath, and take hesitant steps forward, coming to rest before him and your hands shifting to hold onto him. They press against his chest, settling your building shakes with the warmth of his body you're accustomed to; everything about him is a comfort, because he's him and because you're in love with him.

"Mobius," your lips part, add in the most adoring tone you've ever heard your voice take, "I just need you."

Whatever was keeping him stiff and distance breaks, and his hands are freed from his pockets and finding your face like he's held you like this a dozen times before. But only that once, and now again, and your heart is bursting to tell him how he makes every second you're with him is the best time you've ever spent, how his hands fit perfectly in yours, and that looking in the face of death all you could think about was how much you loved him. And you do love him -- and you know he loves you.

"I thought I lost you," Mobius' body convulses, lingering fear peppering itself in his words. "How--"

"I love you."

Silence, save for your heart beating in your ears.

Mobius' smile is for you and you alone, as is his, "I love you, too."

Then he leans closer, fervour bright in the warmth of his eyes, and says, "I trust you."

When he kisses you, hands cupping your face and your own hands curling in the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, everything is right. Nothing else, for all the time he is here and he loves you, matters.

You did good, you tell yourself. Really, really good.

#mobius x reader #mobius m mobius x reader

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sserpente · 3 years

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Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures--but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. The deal is a simple one: Become a recruit and help the Time Variance Authority fight time crimes to earn your freedom again eventually or die. Loki accepts the challenge. It would not be long until he could use their own weapons against them, after all. If only that, however, were his only concern. Least of all did he expect that with his reluctant arrival at TVA, a woman would step into his life and wreak havoc in his heart. He does not know what it is about her that he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey--but he is determined to find out.

A/N: Gaaaah, I haven’t nearly pre-written as many chapters as I would like to have pre-written before starting to post but I just can’t wait any longer! I finally want to share this story with you guys, I am so hyped about it! So, without further ado--enjoy the first chapter of “Pastel Blue”! I hope you like it! ♥

Chapter 1

Tick Tock. That clock on the wall was driving her crazy, it had been ever since she had been assigned to this dull office. She spent most of her time in the lab, working in midst of dangerous and highly sensitive equipment and delicate devices.

Tick Tock. She was going to smash it—with a big hammer, perhaps, or even better, a jackhammer. It was ugly too. Made of wood and obviously antique, late 18th century probably. What had Mobius been thinking?

Oh yeah, him. Mobius M. Mobius, her I-am-not-your-father-but-I-will-treat-you-like-my-daughter supervisor and babysitter, thank you very much. Granted, he was old enough to be her father, taking into consideration that in her mid-twenties, there wasn’t much need for a parental figure in her life anymore.

Tick Tock. She sighed. The pile of paperwork she had been handed this morning had seemingly not shrunk by even an inch. She could swear she had not been stalling today. Breakfast, work, lunch break, work… Tick Tock. She rolled her eyes. No. This was unreasonable. Grunting a few not so decent swear words, she gathered the spreadsheets and dozens of handwritten notes, sending the calming ruffling of paper through the air and exited the room without so much as thinking about what Mobius would think about her wandering places around the TVA during work hours again.

Besides, the kitchen and common room right around the corner of her desired destination was equipped with the best coffee machine modern technology had to offer. Hot chocolate with mint and a hint of vanilla? Oh yes, please!

At this time of the day, the lab in question was deserted. Pens, pliers and other small tools lay scattered all over the metal tables as if someone had just finished their work for the day. Some of the devices in here could cause major damage if activated accidentally or even at the wrong time. Now there was the thrill, the proximity to endless possibilities.

After turning a few laps around the tables to see if anything had changed or improved at all since the last time she was here (which would be yesterday), she eventually made herself comfortable at the huge desk fully equipped with a cup holder, sockets and a fancy table lamp. The chair was the best part, enabling her to swirl around whenever she felt like she needed a refreshing spin.

She had just pulled out her burrow from her hair, having twirled it around one of the lighter strands. Her guess was the sun had bestowed its warm kisses upon her chocolate brown hair in the summer. Leaning over her papers, she got back to work.

But it was only five minutes until she heard the heavy metal door with the see-through glass panel being pushed open, followed by someone clearing their throat.

“Jess, do you have a moment?” Mobius asked. Jess tilted her head, the slightest frown accompanied by a gentle smirk decorating her face. What, no chastising for changing work locations today? She swirled around on her chair, expecting to see the man in question in his grey suit and the signature scar across his nose stare her down with arms akimbo. Instead, he was holding on to the door tensely, right next to him, seemingly out of place in the threshold, a man with raven hair and the most stunning pair of blue eyes she had ever had the pleasure to lock her gaze with. Her eyes were blue as well—Loki’s, however, seemed to shimmer green in the artificial light of the lab. She didn’t get much daylight, all the way down here.

“M?” Jess smiled. She rose, ignoring the slight trembling of her knees as she approached the two, keeping a safe distance. Her heart skipped a beat with every single step, her chest resembling a magnet pulling her towards Loki like a powerless needle.

“I’ve told you, repeatedly, to stay in your own office.” Ah, there it was.

“I have asked you, repeatedly, to re-locate my office here.” She retorted with a smug expression, eyes darting over to Loki. Mobius shook his head. “An introduction is probably redundant. Jess, this is Loki.”

He was wearing the orange prison clothes TVA had manufactured a few years back. She had to admit, orange suited him rather well, bringing out his cheekbones and the dark hair framing his flawless face. His lips were thin, his jawline to die for. She would be lying if she denied his attractiveness. Loki was a god, after all. Most prominent to his appearance, however, were the shackles around his naked wrists and the metal collar hiding most of his long neck—a chunky but firm reminder his powers were all but a myth as long as the light was blinking bright red like a traffic light screaming stop at him like a sleep-deprived police officer.

Loki lifted his chin, allowing pride and confidence to flood his aura. Out of all the people he had encountered in this strange place so far, alterations of his very own self on an old-fashioned projector included, she was by far the oddest. Jess, so he learned, wore a colourful choker around her neck as well as two bracelets of the same kind. They reminded him of sugar pearls. If he had asked her about them, she could have revealed to him that they were indeed candy necklaces—and that she wore them because Mobius had stressed there were no edible snacks allowed at work. The elegant pieces of jewellery hanging down her earlobes, however, appeared to be non-edible. Two delicate silver charms, holding what Loki identified to be moonstones. They suited her, complementing the long brown hair and the outstanding colour of her eyes. Blue—just like his.

“The God of Mischief.” She completed, the fraction of a second after he had studied her conspicuous appearance. She added a court but polite nod. “I was kind of hoping to meet you one day.” And so she was. The rumours had spread across the entire facility like wildfire, reaching even the Minutemen based in different timelines. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, had stolen an Infinity Stone and escaped his respective timeline—a timeline reaching all the way back to 2012—creating a new branch of reality entirely. Unsupervised, he could have caused serious damage to the very fabric of time and the multiverse. He had to be stopped, had to be captured, had to be persuaded.

Mobius had expressed his interest in getting the infamous Trickster to work for him frequently. Loki was skilled, intelligent, witty, a talented fighter and most of all, one of the most capable users of magic the multiverse had to offer. His stories of victory and defeat were known to most of the TVA and yet, they resonated with her to an extent her colleagues could never fathom. Above everything Loki had had to experience—above all Loki will have had to experience—there was a thick layer of loneliness clouding his aura like a blanket of ice-cold snow. It was a suitable comparison, given his heritage.

“I didn’t just hear that.” Mobius intervened. He sized her up like an unpredictable teenager. “The God of Mischief has retired. Loki here has just agreed on working for us.”

“With you,” Loki interrupted. “Not for you. Reluctantly.” That would leave her wondering what exactly it was Mobius had offered him in return.

Jess chuckled. “Now that is a matter of opinion, trust me. I would know.” Raising an eyebrow, she gave Mobius a challenging glare.

“I need you to cover a shift.” He responded matter-of-factly. Jess’ eyebrow rose even higher. “Reese just jumped back from 1792.”

“And?”

“He almost made his personal acquaintance with the guillotine. They’re patching him up in the hospital wing right now.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jess took a step back, realising just what kind of favour, no, requirement Mobius would ask for. Reese had been in the TVA for more than three decades—he had not aged a day since his accession as a matter of fact—and his experience and excessive excitement over the Avengers had made him the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Loki while he was still not to be trusted—if he was ever going to be trusted, that was. He was the God of Mischief, after all.

“I’m on probation, remember? What makes you think I should cover for him of all people?” Loki rolled his eyes and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for excluding him from a conversation that was clearly about him.

“Call it an experiment. Prove to me that we can rely on you and I’ll end your probation.” Jess resisted the urge to shake his hand off her shoulder when he leaned forward to touch her in a fatherly manner.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” A Minuteman had appeared behind them. Jess had never quite figured out how they moved so quietly. Their shoe soles must have been made of feathers. In turn, the stilettos she usually wore to smuggle a few more inches to her height were loud and made satisfying noises ricocheting through the hallways when she walked, emitting confidence and even smugness. She needed that boost every once in a while.

Mobius nodded. As he released Jess’ shoulder and pushed past Loki—who did, much to her amusement, not move an inch for the senior manager—he pointed a finger at him. “Behave.”

The lab door fell shut behind him, drowning all noises from the outside like a soundproof recording room. Jess gaped at Loki for a second, her body once again threatening to overwhelm her with the magnetic pull she felt towards the Trickster, fascination setting her veins ablaze.

“You do not look human.” Loki suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jess pouted.

“Excuse me? I am hoping you meant that as a compliment, I am as human as I’ll ever be.” Loki frowned, then responded with a hum.

“I take it you hop timelines for him too then, fixing the damage others have done.”

“Me? No.” Jess shook her head. “I am not a Minuteman. I wish I was, trust me, but I have got nothing to do with that, unfortunately. I work in the linguistics department, spending all day translating protocols and time recordings from all sorts of languages. Now I know what you’re thinking. With its technology, shouldn’t TVA be able to translate everything using a smart computer program?” She shrugged. “Well, technically you’re right. But there’s a bunch of languages out there that simply don’t exist either here on Earth or any other known realm. We’re only human—and a computer program is only as smart as its creator. It can’t translate a language that does not consist of words, for example, that would go against the very human comprehension of its programmer.”

“Then how do you speak them?” Loki probed.

“That’s my superpower. I don’t know why I can understand them, I just… do. And what did it get me?” She raised her hands in a dramatic motion. “Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The only way for me to get in on the real action is this place here. Take a look at this.” Loki watched her move towards what resembled a toaster, shaped like a metal suitcase that had been left open. Smiling, she reached for a shining red apple on the table and placed it on the black surface before activating the switch. She had seen the scientists do this dozens of times before. In fact, she was sure she could handle most of the devices in here in her sleep. As the small machine hummed to life, it sent a deafening vibration through the room and then, just like someone had hit fast-forward with a remote, the apple shrivelled and rotted.

“Pretty cool, huh? It works the other way around too once it recharged. They haven’t figured out how to make it work for living beings, including humans, just yet, though. This is just a prototype anyway, the real thing is supposed to help re-animate the dead for a short amount of time to solve time crimes and shit. I swear I’d get a major in science if I lived another life. My father was one. Before he died, that is.” Jess wasn’t quite sure what made her open up to the God of Mischief and tell her about her personal family drama. She usually babbled when nervousness got the better of her but this was a new level of openness entirely. They all knew her story, after all, but apart from Mobius, they all pretended they didn’t. “You see? TVA is not all bad, even if it may seem so at first. M can be an arsehole sometimes, I know. He calls our main timeline in which everything began,” Jess continued with a dramatic voice, “the Null-Time Zone. I never figured out why and he won’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t listen, Jess.” Mobius answered, holding the door open with the Minuteman who had asked for his advice impatiently but mutely waiting for his turn again behind him.

“So?” She probed, pointing at the God of Mischief with her chin, her arms crossed. “If I am to play babysitter for a while, where am I staying? Where is Loki staying?”

“Your place.” Jess blinked, incredulousness spreading on her face like a clean swipe of butter on warm toasted bread.

“My place?”

“Your residential unit is supervised and equipped with modern alarm systems, just in case you decide to make trouble again, remember? We’ll position security outside the door in addition to that, killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it’s only temporary. Reese should be up and on his feet again in no time. The blade only grazed him before he made the jump back.”

“That does not sound reassuring!” Jess stood up straight to prove her point and yet, even compared to Mobius, she was nowhere near tall enough to make an impact with her body language at this time.

“You can take the rest of the day off as compensation. Show Loki to your unit. Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll send security to collect him in five minutes—to the second!”

~*~

She seems familiar almost… like part of me has known her forever. It was a thought which jumped into Loki’s mind and implanted itself in his head like a parasite. A mere mortal, how could there possibly be a connection between them? But it wasn’t just magnetic fascination and intrigue. Loki felt a need to keep her in his presence much like she was about to be his cherished bride. Irritation crept up the back of his neck as he followed her through the branched corridors and back to the modern lift he had had to use upon his arrival.

He would only love to know just what it was that had gotten her on probation. Abuse of machinery for her own selfish purposes, perhaps? A prank which had gone too far and done damage to the organisation? Murder? No. Despite her toughness, he could not imagine the delicate mortal standing next to him in the elevator being capable of killing anyone.

When the elevator doors slid open again, the young woman gave him an almost sheepish smile. She hardly appeared worried by having to escort him all on her own, across empty hallways which were only too inviting to overpower her and escape. Something held him back. She did, so he realised with another wave of irritation electrifying his body.

“…the most dangerous missions they usually leave to Justice Peace and Death’s Head. Ever heard of them? They are like celebrities around here.” He heard her say just then. But Loki couldn’t possibly take less interest in this so-called Time Variance Authority. All he needed to know was that it was yet another, partially human-led secret organisation imagining with the naivety of a child that they held power over him. SHIELD had made this mistake in the past and they had paid the bitter price. TVA would be no different.

“The units here are labelled with our initials and the department number. This one.” Jess pointed at the first door coming into sight to their right and quite apparently, Mobius had not made any empty promises concerning Jess’ safety and surveillance. As they turned around the corner, they were greeted by a grimly looking security officer clutching one of those small devices Loki identified as a Taser, one which of the like Darcy Lewis had once used on his brother. He kept a straight face even as Jess unlocked the residential unit using her fingerprint and entered but gave him a provocative smirk before following her.

His own chambers back on Asgard—another life entirely, so it seemed now—were a reflection of who he was with their green accents, the countless books, the tidiness and the ancient parchment rolls on his dark mahogany desk from Vanaheim. If anything, analysing her personal living space to the very last grain of dust would satisfy his need to learn just why he felt so drawn her, perhaps.

The first item of furniture he took in was the long bookshelf towering all the way up to the ceiling, every inch filled with clearly read books about as thick as his wrist. He made a note to study the titles later. A coffee table full of empty peanut shells and a new package of peanuts still sealed neatly in their plastic bag, a caramel sofa on which he found more sealed peanut bags as well as a golden cushion with cheesy pom-poms. A drawer, a TV with large speakers and another electronic gadget resembling a fridge and two separate doorways which led to a bathing area, so he presumed, and her bedroom. Even with the overall lack of more furniture in the room, Jess had somehow managed to add her very own personal touch to the sterile residential unit.

“The bathroom is to the right, you’ll find refreshments and snacks in the fridge next to the TV. My bedroom is out of bounds. I hope you enjoyed the tour.” She chuckled, grabbing a blue leather jacket from the hook on the entrance door behind them. “Big meals are eaten in the cafeteria at certain times of the day though. Mobius wants to strengthen the team spirit but the cooks never say no to a late breakfast or a midnight snack if you ask them nicely.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner in this place?” A lackey for someone else to take the credit for your hard work, he added silently. He knew two of that kind—one being his brother, the other his alleged father. Loki suppressed a begrudged growl. Just in that moment and before she had a chance to reply to his provocative remark, there was a vigorous knock on the door.

“That’ll be your cue.” Jess announced. Loki had to force himself not to turn his head and catch one last glimpse of her as the grimly looking security man escorted him back to Mobius and, other than Jess, kept pushing him forward like cattle and yet, he was convinced he could feel her curious gaze resting on his back long after he had turned back around the corner, stepped into the elevator and even when he was reluctantly reunited with Mobius near the lab where they had first picked her up.

He was speaking to the same Minuteman who had interrupted them earlier—quietly, vividly and so engrossed in the seemingly heated conversation that he noticed Loki and his new bodyguard approaching only after his exceptional hearing had picked up shreds of information he made another mental note of using against them, sooner rather than later.

“You do realise that they’ll come after us with a vengeance, right? That could be the end of TVA once and for all, you know very well what he is capable of.”

“Let that be my concern. This is just a temporary solution—one which I am very curious about.”

“But it already—“

“I realise it already happened and that’s exactly why I’m doing this. All we need to do is stop it from happening again by observing the situation intently, stitch up the loop and we’ll be safe. This isn’t my first rodeo, Dave, you of all people should know this.”

“And what about the Tesseract? Wouldn’t it be smarter if we—“

The security officer cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.

“The Tesseract,” Loki interrupted with a glare, strutting towards them like the king he was born to become and despite his shackles, “belongs to me. It called out to me, it is mine.”

“You’ll find a lot of people in this facility who will disagree with you on that. Trust me. We’ll make sure you won’t get your hands on that cube again.” Dave snorted. “I hope you like your new lodging. Now come on, mischief maker. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

A/N: And Scene! So what do you think, what do you think, what do you think? 🤯 I’m so excited to dive into this story! I literally recorded myself on my phone in the middle of the night a while back when all the ideas I had finally came together so I hope I’ll be taking you on an exciting journey with me!

Chapter 2

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shadowsfascination · 3 years

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Shadamy swordland AU - part 4

The air was knocked out of Amy’s lungs by his statement and her skin paled, drawing long shadows over her usually cheerful face. Her head began to ache and she rubbed her forehead as if to rub to swirl of emotions inside her away. Shadow on the other hand crossed his arms and legs, a hint of sorrow playing his ruby eyes.

Amy hunched her back and leaned on her hands, eyed Shadow and drew a breath. She intended to speak, but found no words. Instead she watched the light of the flickering candle cast constantly changing shadows on him, the warm tones of its’ flame contrasting with the now chilly atmosphere between them.

Unaware of it Shadow gritted his teeth in distress. At a total loss for words or the slightest idea how to behave in this situation, he chewed his lip and mildly pinched his arms. He couldn’t talk anymore. It was somehow beyond his control and he despised powerless it made him feel. His body froze and the longer the silence lasted, the further the words drifted away from him. Meanwhile his mind became a cacophony of tangled, blurry thoughts.

I have to snap out of this!

Shadow took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tracing the source of the messed up chaos energy in his body and changing it into a state of tranquillity again.

“Amy.”

The sudden renewed confidence in him broke not only the silence, but the seal between them as well. She couldn’t somehow deny his gaze and locked eyes with him, her eyes full of questions and expectations. He took her hands to cover them in his own. They were warmer than she’d expected.

“I cannot explain any of this to you.”

Amy frowned at him in annoyance and backed off to escape his hold, her eyes starting to blaze. A series of angry growls escaped her lips and she clenched fists. Her knuckles made a cracking sound from it. “Please, oh please tell me you’re joking!”

He blinked twice, innocence and incomprehension written all over his face.

“I’m not. It would be a poor jest.” “You can’t just drop this bomb on me, fall quiet and then not explain any of it!”

She was prepared for a whole lot of it, but this? – she thought to herself. As soon as the thought landed in the conscious part of her mind she labelled herself a fool, questioning what she did expect from him. She knew Shadow… Why did she keep getting so thrown off by his untactile behaviour?

Blood rushed through her veins at high speed, causing a rustle in her ears. There it was again: the unwanted announcement of her bad temper. He’d soon have to deal with it if he didn’t make haste with properly explaining this… mess! At this rate, she still had control over her temper, but that could change in the blink of an eye. “You’re not saying anything yourself either. Although, knowing you, I hardly believe you don’t have any questions. I’m not throwing that in your face, am I?” “Well, can you blame me?!” “A little, yeah. You carry your heart on your tongue. You always know what to say.” “I don’t right now!” “I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to spare my feelings and I don’t care for it.”

“Oh no, Shadow. You’re NOT shifting YOUR responsibility to explain who you actually are to me.” “I’m not.” The pink female whirled around and caught his attention with her fierce turquoise orbs. The warm, yellowish tones of the dancing flame were fighting for precedence with the luminary aqua in her eyes. He could see her hands gesturing, signalling him her upset internal state in the blurry background of his view.

“Then talk.”

“I can’t.” “Blast, Shadow! I can’t believe how incredibly rude you are to me! I’m your girlfriend! You’re keeping so many important things from me…I wonder how you in 300 darn years still achieve to be totally oblivious about how to act polite and chivalrous around a woman!”

“You should know me better than to mistake me for a soft, gooey fool who drops every aspect of his personality when with a woman. I might be a knight, but surely I’m not going to be your imaginary heroic boyfriend. Or always treat you like a queen when you’re being a huge pain in the ass, Amy. If that’s what you want, than better rethink your choices…”

Another of her romantic bubbles burst by another blunt statement, one he made her aware of she had it in the first place. Amy shifted her headstrong gaze to the red, green and blue-checked woolen blankets on the bed. Ignoring him, she distracted herself to follow the lines from the wrinkles on them with her fingers. The raw texture of the wool prickled through her gloves. It was a unpleasant feeling and she wondered how he was able to sleep under them.

“… Besides: I’m sharing my deepest secrets with you! Do you think that’s easy for me? What more could you possibly want?” “I want you to explain who on Mobius you are!” she shouted. “I want you to explain how it’s even possible to be that old? I wanna know what you are. A ghost? Some divine creature? And what about your strange, dark powers and the stone?! Did you have kids in the past? What does this all make you?!” Both their ears fell back, the awkward silence became deafening on them. Amy’s eyes reddened from the upcoming tears and anger. She bit her lip and bravely fought against the waterworks. A few salty tears quietly dripped down her cheeks though. Amy battled the strong tendency to cry once more. She felt so hideous whenever she cried- and she did see herself cry before. She felt she looked awful and so she did her uttermost best to hide it- in comparison to when she was a young girl. “What’s it make us? Just tell me.. something! ANYTHING will do!”

Her loud, hoarse voice cracked and she sniffed. Shadow’s hand squeezed and crinkled the blanket with force. He cursed under his breath.

“I KNOW, OKAY?! I know ANY words will do, but there are no words! NONE! They’re stuck! I don’t mean to be rude or inconsiderate of your feelings. Plagues! If anything, that’s what’s making me freeze up. I have no idea at all how to handle this!”

An upcoming sense of guilt sent a series of shivers down her spine. Her stupid pride and temper pushed him too far. A lump in her throat now accompanied the already present stress-related stomach aches.

“I don’t either… It’s scaring me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Shadow, I don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back. And don’t tell me I’m not, because I know I am. Sorry about that. Just spill. I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“It’s not just that. I can’t verbalize all this.”

He concentrated on the chaos energy in his body once more, shards of them whirling around like a hive of bees. They seemed impossible to catch. His focus shifted to his irregular, high paced breathing and he breathed out some of the stress in his body. The shards immediately lowered their impossible-to-follow rhythm and he was finally able to catch some of them.

I never lose my confidence.

With a certain determination Shadow grasped her gloved hands. They were tensely folded into fists. Their touch revealed the quivers they were both trying to control. Shadow suddenly scooped her onto his lap and then rose to carry her bridal style, all much to Amy’s confusion.

“However, I can show you.”

His signature self-sufficient smile now curved his lips.

“Come on, I’ll carry you. I know how much you love this romance-stuff and I am a knight after all.” He blew out the candle, letting the darkness swallow them entirely before calling out the ‘Chaos control’. With this single chant he overcame the barrier of space and time. The darkness around them swiftly faded into a serene surrounding, filled with flowy, intertwining ruby, royal blue, shiny silver and regal gold ribbons of light.

They weightlessly soared through the pacifying, outstretching void. A sea of glowing orbs laid ahead of them and with confidence. Shadow commanded some of them to come closer, each carrying a memory. He let some fragments play out before her eyes to see for herself what happened in his past, for he was unable to tell her.

It was all there, right before Amy’s eyes: the mystery of what he was, his unknown origin and lonesome existence by surviving everyone he’d ever cared for in the past. He had roamed around the planet for years and years in order to keep his immortality a secret.

There was also a set of painful memories in which he was fighting, on the run or hiding for the many different faces of danger. They were a tad blurry and she couldn’t quite capture the meaning of it. The memory of the unknown hero neared and she witnessed his amazing powers, bravery and strength. It replaced her unsettling state of being with much softer feelings, easing her temper away. Amy smiled when concluded to herself that neither his physics or personality had seemed to change. The Shadow she knew now was as stubborn, blunt, socially awkward, dedicated, loyal and brave as in his past. Without having to verbalize he answered everything she wanted to know and more. Amy’s sweet, caring nature calmed her temper and she empathized with Shadow. She felt for the challenges his long life had brought upon him and pulled him into a deep, consoling hug.

“Shadow, I’m sorry I pushed you. I misjudged and jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

The scenery of his bedroom slowly faded in again and Shadow gently put her down. He lit the candle again. A shameful blush coloured his cheeks and played his eyes. His ears drooped backwards. Shadow felt like he was stripped to the bone. “I know everyone thinks I excel in many things, but communicating my inner state isn’t one of them. It heaves me down whenever I… feel strongly about something. Actions speak louder than a thousand words to me.”

“Thank you for being honest with me, for showing me all this. I imagine it must’ve been hard on you. You seemed so lonesome all these years.”

Hiding his face in his hands, he stared without focal point in his gaze. Shadow broke down internally, forcefully biting the insides of his lips to prevent him from crying like an infant.

“You’ve seen it for yourself now. You’ve seen me fight…My past…It’s the most private thing that I carry with me.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden all by yourself.” “You’re the very first to learn about it.”

“I already assumed I was, given your struggle to share it with me. I’m glad you told me.”

Amy smiled, trying to lighten up the mood again. “It’s awful and humiliating to share. I even killed in the past. I can’t help but feel like a monster sometimes. It haunts me.”

“You’re a knight. There’s times where you’re left no other choice than to eliminate your enemies. If anything, you’re a hero, Shadow.”

“I’m not! You weren’t there! Y-you d-d-don’t…You don’t know…”

He whimpered almost inaudibly while his shaking body sank into her embrace. Amy petted his back and caressed his quills while he hid his face in her chest. She cupped his tear-stained muzzle and made him look her in the eye. When his red, bloodshot eyes met her aqua ones they showed the strong-minded, yet hopelessly emotional Amy Rose Shadow had fallen for.

“There’s still so much that I don’t understand, but my emotional compass tells me you’re reliable and trustworthy. I’d like to believe you must’ve had your reasons… Tell me whenever you’re ready.”

She let herself fall back on the bed and pulled Shadow onto her, snuggling up to him under the prickly woolen blankets. On any other night the knight would’ve protested and let his self-discipline never allow her to stay over, but they were exhausted. Shadow and Amy couldn’t battle their minds anymore and forgot about the possible consequences they’d have to deal with in the morning. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. None of it. Even though their minds were loaded with troubles, which usually would’ve kept them awake, it somehow did not tonight.

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< Previous chapter: read here

> Next chapter: ...

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I struggled with this chapter. I’ll try to make the next one more uplifting (: Sometimes it seems to me that neither of these two dorks know a single thing about relationships, yet they have so much love to give to one another.

I’d appreciate if you share your thoughts and send me a message if you find any annoying typo’s or grammar mishaps.

@shadamyheadcanons, here you go!

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authoratmidnight · 6 years

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BB’s Anime Rec List

Because I do in fact watch more than just Fullmetal Alchemist, Yu-Gi-Oh! and Cardfight!! Vanguard, I thought I’d share with you some other ones I’ve watched and enjoyed.

The vast majority of these can be found on Crunchyroll.

Pokémon Sun and Moon

Genre: Adventure

Rating: G (General)

Length: Ongoing (73 episodes currently)

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: Yes

Pokemon Sun and Moon follows the adventures of Satoshi/Ash in the Alola region when he decides to stay after visiting it for a vacation. Eventually he decides to take on the Island Challenge, taking on the Trials and Island Kahunas.

The story weaves together Ash’s Island Challenge, the mystery that is Nebby and UBs(Ultra Beasts), along with general slice of life activities. And yes, Ash does go back to school.

This was a surprise addition to the list to be honest. When the Sun and Moon anime was announced, along with stills of the new art style, I, like a number of fans, was wary. The art was so different from any of the other series, far more, cartoonish and stylized. And I have been turned off shows due to art style before.

And then I actually watched it, and was taken in. It’s lighthearted (for the most part) and fun, the characters are all likeable and a treat. The art style actually works, especially when animated and is honestly, really cute, and very expressive, and used to great effect for stylistic and exaggerated expressions.

Even if you’ve never watched any of the other seasons, or stopped a long time ago, this one is definitely worth giving a shot.

Natsume Yuujinchou (lit. Natsume’s Book of Friends)

Genre: Slice of Life, Supernatural, Drama

Rating: T (Teen)

Length: 74 episodes (spread over 6 seasons) + 5 OVAs

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

Slice of life and supernatural don’t normally seem like two genre that would go together, but in this series they do.

Takashi Natsume has the ability to see spirits, an ability also possessed by his grandmother, Reiko Natsume. Unfortunately, this ability led to him being ostracized by his peers and passed from family member to family member after the death of his parents.

The story follows 16 year old Natsume after he comes into possession of a powerful item that once belonged to his grandmother, the Book of Friends, a notebook full of names of spirits that Reiko caught and bound. He is joined on this journey to return these names by Madara (also called Nyanko-sensei) a powerful yokai that becomes his ‘bodyguard’ in exchange for the Book of Friends upon Natsume’s death(though it’s fairly clear that he is quite attached to Natsume).

On top of this, the series is a story of healing, of Natsume overcoming years of isolation and bullying and learning how to form friendships, both with humans and yokai alike. A story about family and home.

It’s what I call a ‘soft’ anime; the art style, the music, it’s never loud or in your face. There’s never any large, world ending sorts of stakes. Even when there are stakes, you always know things will work out in the end.

Kyoukai no Rinne

Genre: Slice of Life, Supernatural, Comedy, Romance

Rating: T (Teen)

Length: 75 episodes (spread over 3 seasons)

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

If you think the art style looks similar that’s because this is another series by Rumiko Takahashi, the brains behind Inuyasha, Ranma 1/2 and many others.

The story centers around Mamiya Sakura, a normal human girl who can see ghosts, and Rokudo Rinne, a perpetually broke, down on his luck part human, part shinigami, who is also her classmate.

Do not let the OPs fool you, this series does not take itself seriously. At all. It’s vaguely self-aware at times and pokes fun at itself constantly.

Through the course of the series we meet other shinigami, demons, damashigami (basically, an unscrupulous shinigami that takes takes people to the afterlife before they die, a “bad” shinigami) and a wide variety of spirits, good and bad.

The romance is very will they-won’t they. Or to quote the back of the DVD

“Two’s company, Three’s a crowd and Four…. is just the start of another Rumiko Takahashi romance.”

It’s a fairly enjoyable watch over all and the lighthearted humour helps keep it from being *to* serious all the time.

Hell Girl

Genre: Horror, Dark

Rating: M (Mature audiences)

Probably the only thing on this list that requires trigger warning for, pretty much everything. It has dark themes and I advise using extreme caution when watching as some episodes may be highly upsetting. If any of the following are triggering or highly upsetting to you I’d advise probably avoiding this one.

Warning for (but not limited to): Assault, Stalking, Rape, Attempted Rape, Animal abuse, Murder, Abuse(pretty much all kinds), Bullying.

Length: 90 Episodes (over 4 seasons, season 1-3 have 26 episodes each, season 4 has 12)

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: Yes (but only the first two seasons)

Hell Correspondence is a website accessible only at midnight, and if you put in the name of your tormentor Hell Girl will come and drag them to hell for you. But at a price, your soul belongs to hell when you die.

This is the overarching premise of the entire series as unlike the rest of the shows on this list, it is very much like an anthology. For the most part each episode is self contained, the only characters that appear more than once are Hell Girl herself and her associates.

The first season does have an overarching plotline later on focusing on a character trying to stop Hell Girl and figure out the mysterious connection between her and his daughter.

Many of the episodes are centered on seeking revenge upon one’s tormentor and as mentioned in the rating above, it is very dark. If you can think of it, it has probably happened at least once. It’s not gory but it just deals with heavy subject matter.

So if you like dark shows and like watching people get their just desserts then, this is probably one you’ll enjoy.

Hoozuki no Reitetsu

Genre: Dark Comedy, Demons, Supernatural, Fantasy

Rating: T

Length: 31 Episodes + OVAs (currently ongoing)

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

The story follows the demon Hozuki, Japanese Hell’s second in command to King Enma. It’s almost slice of life, if slice of life took place in hell and followed the life of a demon as he deals with Hell’s unusual cases and inhabitants.

I specified Japanese Hell as we meet characters from the Heaven/Hell/Afterlife of various religions/mythologies (Anubis for Egyptian afterlife, Satan and Beelzebub from European Hell for example).

There isn’t to much of an overarching storyline to this one either and despite the subject matter (demons and hell) it’s not all that dark and fairly amusing.

Elegant Yokai Apartment Life

Genre: Supernatural

Rating: T

Length: 26 episodes

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

Elegant Yokai Apartment Life is a fairly lighthearted anime following the (mis?)adventures of highschool Inaba Yushi after, not wishing to burden his aunt and uncle any longer by living with them, moves into an apartment populated by ghosts and yokai(and the rare human). Most of the adventures take place AT the apartment involving the residents there as well as Inaba’s budding supernatural abilities.

While generally a fairly light-hearted and fun series, it does occasionally touch on slightly more serious subject matter such as death and abuse.

Miira No Kaikata/How to Keep a Mummy

Genre: Supernatural, Slice of Life

Rating: G

Length: Not long enough 12 episodes

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

Much like Natsume, this series blends supernatural elements with a very slice of life tone as we follow Kashiwagi Sora after he receives a tiny mummy from his globe trotting father. As the title suggests the story follows Sora as he navigates life caring for the tiny mummy. Through out the story we are introduced to more creatures including an oni child, a dragon and a baku, all of which end up in the care of Sora’s friends.

The show is incredibly sweet and a very good mood lifter if one is feeling down. And 12 episodes isn’t nearly enough for it imo.

Erased

Genre: Psychological Thriller, Magic/Fantasy

Rating: T

Length: 12 episodes

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: Yes

Psychological Thrillers aren’t normally my types of anime. Or any series really. But this one hooked me so hard that I just had to keep watching to see what would happen next.

Our protagonist, 29 year old Satoru Fujinuma, has an ability that allows him to return to a point in time just before a life-threatening disaster in order to prevent it. Usually it only sends him back a few minutes. One day, after discovering his mother murdered, he’s sent back in time 18 years, to when he was 11 years old, to a time just before one of his classmates was kidnapped and murdered.

The story follows Satoru as he works to try to save his classmate from this fate, discover who the killer is and figure out how to prevent his mother’s murder(and how all of this is connected).

D. Gray-Man

Genre: Dark, Fantasy, Action-Adventure, Tragedy

Rating: T

Length: 103 episodes

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: Yes (and second half is actually being dubbed at long last!)

Set in an alternate version of the 19th century, a group of Exorcists known as the Black Order fight monsters called Akuma, weapons created by the Millennium Earl and powered by the souls of the deceased.

Allen Walker is one of these exorcists, using the anti-Akuma weapon in his left arm and his cursed left eye that can see the trapped souls to fight against Akuma and help lay their souls to rest.

They also fight against the Millennium Earl and the Clan of Noah who intend to destroy the world.

This is also a sequel/continuation series called D. Gray-Man Hallow that picks up exactly where this one leaves off(but has a different voice cast) though watching it not required.

Caligula

Genre: Action, Sci-Fi

Rating: T

Length: 5/12 Ongoing

Subbed: Yes

Dubbed: No

The series is currently ongoing so the entire plot is not yet known but what is know is that μ(Mu) an AI idol gained sentience and self awareness and in deciding to help alleviate humanity’s suffering created Mobius. Mobius is a near perfect virtual world wherein are trapped the minds of the deeply troubled and/or suffering.

Ritsu Shikishima is among those that has awakened and begun to notice that the world they are in is not real. Unfortunately for him, and everyone else who has “awakened” and wants out, the Ostinato Musicians, a group that are working for/with μ, block the way, doing everything in their power to stop anyone from leaving μ‘s perfect world.

Caligula is, it’s interesting. It’s hard to describe since it’s still ongoing but each episode keeps you hooked and wanting for answers and the animation and music are gorgeous.

#natsume yuujinchou #elegant yokai apartment life #caligula #how to keep a mummy #kyoukai no rinne #erased #pokemon sun and moon #Hoozuki no Reitetsu #hell girl #d.gray-man #anime rec #bb's anime recs #even if I explained the show badly let me tell you I loved all of these #they're all great

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blizzweirdo · 6 years

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StarCraft Fanfiction: “No Omen, No Country’s Cause”

A few months ago, during the StarCraft 20th anniversary celebration, I created a blog for the sole purpose of remedying a great injustice: according to an infographic I saw here on Tumblr, fanfiction involving my favorite character, Vice Adm. Alexei Stukov, comprised only 1% of StarCraft fanfiction (in English, I’m assuming).

And so I embarked on a months-long odyssey, putting together what I thought would be a short story about how Stukov would react to the UED returning to the Koprulu sector. What it turned into is a multi-perspective, most likely novella- length text that I think would work well as a serial.

In “No Omen, No Country’s Cause,” I seek to reconcile discordant parts of Stukov’s personality, give him something to live for, flesh out his backstory, make him to engage in some badassery, and get him back to where he was in SC: Brood War (personality wise). Along the way, expect a lot of battles, new characters, and interactions with other canon characters like Adm. Matt Horner, Valerian Mengsk, Alarak, Zagara, and others.

This teaser is rated T, but expect some chapters to be M for language, violence, sexual content, and zergy squish-squish. I’ll probably post small bits once or twice a week, releasing what I’ve written so far and giving me a chance to write more. I do see myself finishing it (I’ve already written the ending but not the middle) unless there’s just zero interest.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to view this in a different format, it is also available on FanFiction.net, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad under the same username.

Note: someone pointed out this sounds like it’s going to get political. I promise it is not.

“No Omen, No Country’s Cause”

TARSONIS CITY, TARSONIS: 09:55

"Five minutes to air time, people. Let's get moving!" Kate Lockwell paced behind Adm. Matthew Horner as he stood at his podium. From the side of the makeshift stage, she shouted at a few people in the wings. "Tim! Where's Kallie with the other camera?"

"The replacement lens didn't come in. Wasn't a 'priority' shipment and didn't make it through customs. She knows a guy uptown and she's going to borrow one. She'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen?!"

"We'll start without her! It'll be fine. No one will notice we're down a camera."

"They'll notice if we're down two presidential debaters... Where're my challenger candidates?" Kim Lockwell stopped on her heel and put her hand on the shoulder of Horner's blue suit.

"Well, if there's one thing that I can say for you military types, at least you're punctual, Mr. President." She winked at him, and before he could respond, she was gone.

Horner leaned over the podium and looked into the "audience." In the makeshift broadcast room, there were about two-dozen seats, all of which were full of journalists from around the sector-Umoja, Moria, and even some of the outlying colonies. All were there to see the beginning of Tarsonis's new government as it shifted from the Terran Dominion to the Terran Republic. After defeating Amon and negotiating peace with the zerg under Zagara, Valerian Mengsk had begun focusing on rebuilding Tarsonis and Korhal, and that's when the political shitstorm started. The Dominion needed the Umojan Protectorate's help, but they refused to acknowledge a "medieval monarchy spawned by a dictator" as a valid government even though it was constitutional. The Umojans also released more information about Valerian that was potentially damaging-that the labs run by Mobius Corp. had been more closely supervised by him than he had originally said. Skygeirr Station was the most egregious. Horner had asked him, man-to-man, what he actually knew. He had told him that he was only aware they were performing experiments on zerg and xel'naga tissues-he didn't know about the hybrid breeding program. But he did know about what they were doing to UED POW Vice Admiral Alexei Stukov. Valerian said that he willingly turned a blind eye to what they did to him because he thought it vital, at the time, to finding a way to neutralize Sara Kerrigan. Whether it was because he was UED or because he was infested and technically zerg, news reports focused on the hybrids and glossed over the torture of someone he knew to be a decent man. If it bothered Valerian, it was hard to see, which made Horner watchful of him now, waiting for more of his father to emerge. The Umojan Protectorate has a point, Horner thought.

Valerian was forced to step down, and his cabinet named Horner as his interim successor until the Terran Republic could build its infrastructure enough to hold an election. The Umojan Protectorate began helping Tarsonis pick up the pieces of the coup against Arcturus Mengsk and the invasion by the Queen of Blades. It had been five years, and Horner was just now thinking that he had the hang of governing-and now he would have to publicly debate other candidates and run for the position to keep it for another five years. Even so, Horner had doubts about his leadership capabilities. Raynor should be up here-not me, he thought. But he knew that would never have worked. Jim Raynor had not wanted to lead even when he was with the Raiders. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them, he thought, Valerian was the first, Raynor the second... But Valerian was disgraced and Raynor had vanished. Hopefully I'm the third... After Valerian stepped down and the smoke cleared, there weren't many other options.

Horner took a deep breath and thumbed again through his notes on the datapad in front of him. His main talking points were those of national security. They had been burned before by outside threats. Other than a few outlying factions, the protoss were their allies, but on the other hand, the zerg, even with Zagara leading them, could be fractured by a new leader-just as Abathur almost had done. Worse, if Horner had learned anything, it was the threat that could not be predicted that always ...bites you in the ass. Restructuring was also critical. The military needed its academies back online, and the education system-especially on Tarsonis-needed new buildings, updated materials, and staff that were not praising the "glory of the Dominion." Trade deals with the Kel-Morians and the Umojan Protectorate to bring food and other resources to people who needed it were his other sticking points. Things we can all agree on, not too detailed, and enough to talk about but not enough to make me look like a boring, stuffed uniform-I hope.

Finally, one of the other candidates entered the studio. The journalists all stood at once, their cameras flashing as she strode in. He recognized her; It was Dr. Joan Slavens, a philosophy professor at Tarsonis City Colonial University, the largest and most prestigious public universities on Tarsonis-before it was shut down by the Dominion. She had settled into being a nuisance via private broadcasts during the war. Horner had watched a few of them. Dr. Slavens was a good speaker, and she had the air of a rumpled intellectual with her barely-tamed blonde curls and wrinkled tweed jacket. She waved warmly to the journalists. This made him even more nervous. Dr. Slavens was a well-known personality and respected. She already had a following, and it would be easy for her to build a bloc of voters. He, on the other hand, had name recognition, and was known as a war hero on one hand but a compatriot of the now-controversial Valerian Mengsk on the other-his alliances could make someone's decision either way.

Dr. Slavens took her place at the podium next to his and adjusted her microphone, tapping on it to test it. She put her hand over it and turned to Horner, giving him a rueful smile.

"Of course, Mr. Marinakis isn't here yet. I hope his freighters are timelier than he is."

"You have some experience with Marcos Marinakis?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He told me he would let me interview him for my vids a half a dozen times... He was a no-show on half of them and more than an hour late on the rest. We could be here a while. I mean, this only a presidential debate, after all. I'm sure his business brunch was much more pressing."

"Well, if he's much later, we'll have to start without him."

Marcos Marinakis was a shipping magnate-one of the few that wasn't Kel-Morian. He had a reputation of being loud, obnoxious, but shrewd in business. Some people would believe that would make him good at guiding the Republic, but Horner didn't really see him as a threat. Because of his manner and what inevitably comes out about anyone who runs a large company, he was by far a long shot.

Horner's thoughts were interrupted by a low rumble far in the distance. It shook the building, and a little bit of plaster rained from the ceiling.

"What the hell was that?" Lockwell said. Horner's security detail, two marines in street combat gear, came in from outside the room.

"Mr. President, we have reports of an attack on the outskirts of town heading inward to our position. We need to get you all to a secure location."

"Where?" Horner said quickly.

"The basement of this building is a nuclear bunker. We should be able to hide out there."

Horner sprung into action.

"All right everyone, listen," Horner said into the microphone. "We're all going to do this quietly and without panicking. Please follow these gentlemen downstairs. Keep aware of your surroundings..."

There was another rumble and the power went out. Horner shouted over the din of fighting and the journalists talking nervously among themselves.

"And don't panic."

The journalists filed out of the room with Horner taking up the rear. He paused to look out the window. Republic troops had began flooding into the streets, and before them, a nydus canal had opened. The infested crawled from its maw, waves of them flooding over abandoned hovercars and the makeshift barriers troops had constructed along the way. In the distance, a siege tank and a platoon of Terran Republic troops began firing at them, but were overwhelmed by the sea of flesh and claws almost instantly. With dread, Horner realized there could be only one person responsible: Stukov.

And there's the threat we didn't anticipate.

#starcraft #fanfic #fanfiction #alexei stukov #stukov #matt horner #no omen no country's cause

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entergamingxp · 4 years

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DualShockers’ Favorite Games of 2019 — Ricky’s Top 10

January 1, 2020 10:00 AM EST

Fortunately for you, the great editors at DualShockers have saved the best of these GOTY lists for last. Here are my top 10 games of 2019.

As 2019 comes to a close, DualShockers and our staff are reflecting on this year’s batch of games and what were their personal highlights within the last year. Unlike the official Game of the Year 2019 awards for DualShockers, there are little-to-no-rules on our individual Top 10 posts. For instance, any game — not just 2019 releases — can be considered.

2019 was a surprisingly good year in video games, at least for me. Sure, we didn’t get many absolute bangers that held the collective video game public hostage for weeks at a time. However, there were several good games that had a major impact on what should be a “tune-up” year as we near the release of next-gen consoles.

That said, while we’ve enjoyed a cornucopia of good games, they all had a flaw or five that held them back from being truly spectacular. So, in a sea of good, not great releases, I’ve chosen to highlight the games that I had the most fun with in 2019. After all, isn’t that we play games in the first place?

Here are my top 10 games of 2019.

Honorable Mention: FIFA 20 Web App

Let’s be clear, FIFA 20 was an overwhelmingly mediocre game on launch and EA has only made it worse with their various “fixes.” Ultimate Team, in particular, is in shambles for much of the community. However, I have spent more time playing FIFA than any other game in 2019. So, while I refuse to put it on my list, I still feel like I have to recognize it in some way.

Enter the FIFA 20 web app. I’m on this all the time playing FIFA‘s transfer market and usually having a great time doing so. If you like the idea of playing the stock market without actually investing money, this is the best way I’ve found to do it. Buying and selling players on the market and seeing that coin total slowly rise has been a fun challenge in 2019.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for FIFA 20.

10. Heroes of the Storm

I know, I know; Heroes is a dead game that no one plays. The way Blizzard just killed off the pro scene in 2018 continues to be massively disappointing, and those of us who still play are baby gamers who can’t handle a real MOBA. I get all that and mostly agree with you.

That said, Heroes, for me, is like a fresh plate of my grandma’s meatloaf: something I can always go back to and love regardless of where I’m at in life. My time in HOTS has certainly died down over the last year or so, but it’s the game I always go back to when I just need 20 minutes to unwind. Plus, Deathwing came out this year. That was pretty great.

9. Wattam

Listen, I’m a simple man. If you make a game that lets me make friends with and then explode poop, I’m probably going to like your game. So, while Wattam is in many ways barely a game, there aren’t many other games I enjoyed start to finish as Keita Takahashi’s latest.

This tale about friendship and coming together to conquer evil is one of the most joyous games out in 2019. Perfect for kids and adults alike, I thoroughly recommend this experience to anyone that has an afternoon to kill over the holiday. It won’t change your life and it doesn’t innovate, but stacking up poop and kabooming it to smithereens is so much fun.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Wattam.

8. Death Stranding

As of this writing, I’ve yet to finish Death Stranding. In fact, I just hit Chapter 3, which is where I hear a lot of people begin to have problems with Kojima’s latest. So, I reserve the right to move just toss this game off the list in the next few days.

That said, since starting the game a few days ago, I haven’t been able to think about anything else besides playing Death Stranding. I love the slow, methodical plodding Sam Bridges does as you move cargo from place to place. I love trying to map out the best possible route to stay away from trouble. I even love all the weird lore that keeps getting dumped on me.

Maybe it’s the fact that I come from a family of porters (read: truck drivers), but Death Stranding is the most fun I’ve ever had doing something that, in real life, seems like it would be pretty boring. I hope it stays that way.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Death Stranding.

7. Outer Wilds

Outer Wilds is among the most inventive games in 2019. I love how the game just gives you a world and says, “explore.” There aren’t any roadblocks to you beating it in 20 minutes and everyone is going to get to the ending in a different way. Add in a Majora’s Mask-like constantly-moving map and you have a game that’s nothing like anything else.

Outer Wilds also does something many games can’t and sticks the landing with a stellar (interstellar?) ending. I know you’ve heard this from every corner of the internet, but you really should give Mobius Digital’s freshman effort a try.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Outer Wilds.

6. What The Golf?

I adore golf games. My middle school summers were filled with countless hours of Mario Golf for the Game Boy Color and Nintendo 64. The reason I bought a Switch was to play Golf Story. For whatever reason, I can’t get enough golf in my video gaming life. I can’t stand playing golf in the real world, but virtually, there’s not much better.

That said, What The Golf? is not a golf game. Oh sure, you’ll hit objects toward a flag, but that’s where the similarities end. However, this game does just about everything else besides golf. And still, it’s by far my favorite mobile release of the year. The sheer amount of creativity in how to approach a non-golfing golf game is staggering. I don’t want to say much about what actually happens, as that would ruin the surprise. Just know that What The Golf? is great, regardless of how you feel about golf.

5. Control

Control is my annual “wow, this looks so good on my RTX card” game. Visually, there wasn’t a more impressive game to me all year. Much of this comes down to Remedy’s striking art direction. They do so much with color and lighting to make a game that is a visual feast. It sucks to hear that the console versions are less than stellar, because I want everyone to have the same experience I did.

Outside of the impressive visuals is a story that I had to see to completion. I don’t know if it breaks any new ground, but the narrative threads were so fun to pull at that I ended up doing everything. Combat is mostly fine outside of a few truly bad boss fights. If you’re looking for an entry-point to the Remedy-verse, Control seems like a great jumping-on point, especially if you have a relatively beefy PC.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Control.

4. Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night

Bloodstained is a fantastic reimagining of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. The Metroidvania combat and exploration is tight and incredibly fun. If that was all the game did, it would probably still make my list. However, what makes this game really stand out for me is how willing it is to not take itself too seriously.

Bloodstained is good with it if you become laughably overpowered. In fact, it seems to want you to. The way you can just break the game is so amusing. Many games are too precious about their power curve. Bloodstained doesn’t care. It just wants you to have a good time and rest assured, that’s exactly what I did.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night.

3. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

I had a paragraph written up about how FromSoft has truly evolved their gameplay with Sekiro to force you to actually learn how to play well and not cheese bosses, but honestly, there’s only one thing you need to know. This game is worth playing (or at least watching) to see the Monkey Fight.

For a developer known for creating controller-breaking and genre-defining boss fights, the Monkey Fight stands head and shoulders above them all. If the overbearing difficulty isn’t for you, that’s fine. Just look it up on YouTube, sit back, and enjoy FromSoft at its best.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice.

2. Resident Evil 2

Resident Evil 2, as a remake, has no business being as good as it is. Mr. X is my favorite thing in gaming this year. His horrifying, omnipresent role in the game’s first half makes RE2 a must-play. The way he stalks you throughout the police station, appearing when you least expect it, made for countless moments of both pure terror and hilarity. Plus, the memes that sprung up around the character were exceptional.

When people ask if they should play the game, I just show them the “Mr. X Gon Give it to You” videos and they’re sold instantly. And sure, once you leave the police station, the game kind of slogs to the finish, but that shouldn’t keep you from experiencing the panic-inducing joy that is the early parts of Resident Evil 2.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Resident Evil 2.

1. Judgment

Where do I even start? Do we talk about the oddly captivating murder mystery full of more twists than a bad M. Night Shyamalan movie? Seriously, this story just goes places and is constantly defying what you think a Ryu Ga Gotoku game can be. The studio has really hit its story-telling stride with Judgment. Do we talk about how Yagami might be a better character than Kiryu? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always love the Dragon of Dojima, but Yagami has more much range than the ever-stoic favorite foster son of Shintaro Kazama. How about the ease with which Judgment switches between serious, soap opera-style narrative and the wacky side quests we’ve come to love from Yakuza games? This has always been one of the series’ strengths; however, with the main character being a private detective, it makes a lot more sense for them to be randomly searching for a man’s cats or beating up a disgusting pervert.

Really, Judgment is my game of the year because I can’t think of another game that I had more fun playing. The beat ’em up gameplay is the same as it’s always been, but RGG has made it instantly a blast. If I want to show someone why I love Judgment, I’ll just jump into a random battle and I’m immediately piledriving all those young thugs into the ground. Judgment has, quite possibly, the best set of “heat” finishers in the Yakuza franchise. And truthfully, that’s the kicker with Judgment. It doesn’t do anything remarkably new with the Yakuza format. What it does is distill everything in the game down to its most fun form and slaps it all over the world of Kamurocho.

As I get older and there are more demands on my time, “fun factor” has become more important than ever. Judgment has that in spades. I’ve already put 100 plus hours into the game and just thinking about the game’s big moments over the past week while writing this has me seriously considering jumping back in. That Platinum’s not gonna earn itself. Thank you for reading my mini-review for Yagami’s greatest journey. If you haven’t checked out a Yakuza game yet, this is a perfect jumping-on point.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Judgment.

Check out the rest of the DualShockers staff Top 10 lists and our official Game of the Year Awards:

December 23: DualShockers Game of the Year Awards 2019 December 25: Lou Contaldi, Editor-in-Chief // Logan Moore, Managing Editor December 26: Tomas Franzese, News Editor // Ryan Meitzler, Features Editor December 27: Mike Long, Community Manager // Scott White, Staff Writer December 28: Chris Compendio, Contributor // Mario Rivera, Video Manager // Kris Cornelisse, Staff Writer December 29: Scott Meaney, Community Director // Allisa James, Senior Staff Writer // Ben Bayliss, Senior Staff Writer December 30: Cameron Hawkins, Staff Writer // David Gill, Senior Staff Writer // Portia Lightfoot, Contributor December 31: Iyane Agossah, Senior Staff Writer // Michael Ruiz, Senior Staff Writer // Rachael Fiddis, Contributor January 1: Ricky Frech, Senior Staff Writer // Tanner Pierce, Staff Writer

January 1, 2020 10:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/01/dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-rickys-top-10/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=dualshockers-favorite-games-of-2019-rickys-top-10

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