#The bright side of Mobius

[seaofserene]

you know, in theory she could achieve cross-spatial travel because that's a thing her people figured out how to do (water portals!). idk how well it'd work on a dimensional scale though.

#✧･ﾟ ♫ there’s a bright side to every wrong thing if you’re looking at me through the right eyes. ( headcanons. ) #honestly the last thing anyone needs is serenity figuring out that ritual her people used to leave mobius in the first place #[side eyes azure. side eyes river] #hm.

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 3

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: We're finally heading into the main plot I think lol. Hope y'all like this one, let me know. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

"Casey!" You called, hurriedly walking between the rows of files while looking down at the paperwork in your hands. TVA's library was either your favorite place or the place you hated the most. No in-between. It was your favorite when you stopped by to lounge in the armchairs and read your books in the calming silence. But when you had to traverse between the cramped shelves in search of files, that's when you hated it.

"Casey?" You called again, still turning the pages with a frown on your face.

"Yeah, what's up?"

The sudden voice caught your attention and you raised your head just in time to not walk straight into your friend. You chuckled to yourself, coming to stand beside him in the small space between the tall shelves. "I was going through this report and it mentions a code 581, I've never heard that one before." With your finger, you pointed to the underlined letters on the report.

"Oh, that's a fun one," Casey smiled, taking the papers from your hands, "it's kind of a rare case actually, it's when two variants appear simultaneously…"

While you spoke with Casey, all the way on the other side of TVA's weirdly shaped building, and one floor above, stood Mobius with Loki by his side; both of them leaning on the railings and observing you from afar.

"How long did you say she's been here?" Loki asked, his eyes never leaving your form. His face had a complicated expression, almost as if he was still figuring out how to feel about actually seeing you, the same girl from the life he was supposed to have.

"I didn't, I said that time passes differently here in the TVA," Mobius spoke beside him, his eyes slowly shifting between you and Loki. "But, if I had to guess I'd say the equivalent of around two years."

It's been a couple of weeks since Loki arrived, and in his time here he's been quite helpful for the TVA; not enough to catch the rogue variant, but enough to earn his end of the bargain.

"Is it a habit of yours to keep variants around then?" Loki turned to Mobius with a raised brow.

"Not at all," Mobius chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You two are the only ones so far, and you can thank me for that, by the way."

Loki pursed his lips as he shifted his gaze back to you. He watched as you spoke with Casey, huge smile on your lips as you gestured around saying something he couldn't understand. "Why keep her?" He asked quietly.

Mobius sighed, following the path of Loki's gaze toward you. "Same reason as you, pretty much. She was very... familiar with the Loki from her timeline and I figured she could be of help to us. At first, she was a very tough nut to crack, but it was either that or be pruned so eventually, she agreed, and has helped capture many Loki variants in her time here."

A scoff went past Loki's lips. His hands gripped the railings tighter, heartbeat quickening with each passing second that brought him closer to meeting you. Why he felt this way, he couldn't tell; it was as if his body knew something he didn't. "And, by her timeline, you mean my timeline as well?"

"Technically, yes."

─── ·❆· ───

"Thank you, Casey, I'll see you at lunch," you gave your friend a small wave as you turned to go in opposite directions. The ghost of a smile lingered on your lips as you closed the file's folder, but it faded immediately as soon as you looked up.

Mobius stood in front of you, he said your name but it sounded like a whisper drowned underwater to your ears, for you were focused on the person a few steps behind him. He had the same raven black curls, the same sharp nose, fair skin, and bright eyes; his features being highlighted by the artificial lights from TVA's infinite floors. He was a ghost. The one from your worst nightmares and most beautiful dreams. A ghost of your past life, one that instantly got your heartbeat skyrocketing and closed up your throat until you couldn't breathe, or talk, or even think.

You were nearly making holes into the file in your hands with the force you held it with, knuckles going white.

Taking a step closer, Mobius called your name again. He tried reaching out towards you but you took a sharp step back. "There's someone who would like to meet you," he settled for saying, calmly, gesturing behind him.

Forming words became a struggle for you. Your lips parted only to tremble with no sound coming from your mouth. Inhaling sharply, you straightened your posture. "No." You said with finality, your eyes not leaving the ones that reminded you of your Loki.

A frown appeared on his features and he looked like he was about to speak, but you beat him to it, finally looking at Mobius; "You. Me. Storage room, now."

With that, you turned around and took urgent steps to the back of the library, shoving open the door that led to a small storage room for older files no one needed anymore. You turned the switch for the single orange light hanging from the ceiling and then clawed at your scalp, trying your best to regulate your breathing.

Mobius walked in, closing the door behind him. "Listen I can-"

"Explain?" You finished for him, urgency and anger dripping from each syllable, "yeah, you better. What was that? Who is he?"

"We were about to get to that before you stormed off." Mobius shrugged.

"Cut the bullshit, Mobius," you sighed, hands coming to rest on your waist.

"He's a Loki, you've met a hundred of them already."

You bit your lip to hold back the tears stinging behind your eyes. "Yeah, I have, and none of them were-" you hesitated, "None of them looked like-" You swore under your breath when your voice betrayed you.

"Your Loki?"

Mobius' quiet words got you closing your eyes, there was compassion in his voice, being one of the only people here who really knew what you've been through. A long sigh escaped your lips, along with some of the anger, leaving room only for the emptiness that has been following you around for years now.

"Is he?" You were afraid to know, but you asked anyway.

"He was going to be," Mobius took a step closer to you, and this time you allowed him to rest a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress shirt. "He came from your timeline, roughly after his attempt at taking over earth."

An unamused chuckle escaped your lips and a single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away. "Jesus, Mobius. You can't be serious." You looked him straight in the eyes then, voice strained; "you can't be doing this to me."

"He insisted," Mobius raised both hands in front of his chest in a halfhearted attempt to calm you down. "He insisted, okay? He saw you in his file, he wanted to know who you were. What was I supposed to do? He saw you and didn't know who you were but it was clear that you were important, and he felt that too."

A beat of silence passed, and then; "I mean," Mobius chuckled softly, shaking his head; "you should have seen his eyes when he saw you, he looked worse than you do now."

You sniffled, avoiding your teary eyes from his gaze. "What were you supposed to do? Well, what about talking to me first, you oaf," you told him, though there was no malice in your words.

"I'm sorry," Mobius shrugged, not sure of what else he could say to you. "I just figured it wouldn't be fair to either of you if I didn't introduce you. Or, reintroduced you."

You doubted you'd be able to form a coherent thought in your mind right now with the amount of emotions you were going through. But you knew he was right, deep down you did. You just weren't sure what to make of it yet, seeing a Loki who would eventually become your Loki; who, essentially, was your Loki. Just not yet.

It nearly sent you into a panic attack. Seeing him again was all you ever wanted when you lost him, yet now that it's happening, you're not sure if you can handle it. Or if you still want it.

Mobius tried to find your gaze with his, and as if reading your mind, he said; "Isn't this what you wanted when you first got here? To see him again?"

"That's not me anymore, Mobius," you spoke before you could stop yourself. "I'm- I'm not that person anymore." Your voice was quiet, muffled behind the walls you'd built around your wounded heart. "Besides, that's-" You stumbled over your words, tasting your tears on the corner of your lips, "that's not him. That's not the Loki I knew."

"How can you say that, you didn't even speak to the guy," Mobius gestured to Loki's general direction outside of the storage room.

"Yeah well, I don't have to!" You snapped, and closed your mouth soon after, mumbling an apology. "I just- He's not him," you said quieter, almost as if saying it again and again would make it true.

"Maybe not yet," Mobius reasoned, pursing his lips as he mulled over unsaid words; "But he is, otherwise he wouldn't have seen his future with you. You know that."

You buried your hands in the pockets of your pants because you could feel how heavily they were shaking. You bit your lip until you tasted blood. "I can't. I'm sorry, Mobius, but I can't. You tell him I want nothing to do with him." The words rolled off your tongue quickly and strained, you didn't give Mobius time to answer you before you were shoving open the door of the storage room and rushing outside.

From the side of your eyes, as you walked, you noticed Loki leaning against one of the file shelves. He perked up when he saw you, straightening his posture and softening his gaze as he took half a step towards you.

You didn't spare him a second glance before turning your back to him and hurrying to the opposite way.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 4 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

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#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

[astrum99]

Fighting against V1 felt like motion – unstoppable, ungovernable, uncontrollable. Sensations tore out of the consistent static that stained millennia with silence.

With isolation, sitting still on the throne of hell. As ordered.

And the shattering of it was nothing short of spectacular.

This machine, small and agile. A magnificent creature manufactured in the image of mankind –soulless and lifeless. (He thought it was lifeless, he thinks he might be wrong – like many times before). It moved with mastery across mountains of squirming, writhing flesh. Ever moving, ever fighting. Hell is its stage, and it proudly presents itself with grace, elegance, and perfect violence. It delivered what was sought with pure, instinctual, exceptional savagery.

It drew blood from him. And along with blood, ecstasy.

There’s poetry to it. Sinful, sacrilegious poetry.

To be etched by this thing so easily. Bullets hot and scorching, piercing through armour until they burn and burrow deep under his skin. To be trading blows. Bow low to evade another swing before the release of twin swords slicing through the scene. To leap into flight only to be grappled and slammed back into the ground. Pinned, dazed, tethered. It demanded submission.

He should feel fury, yet that had faded long ago.

Crimson looked rosy under the cathedral lights. The iron on his lips tasted like metal.

When its whiplash wrapped around his wrist again, it felt like a snare. The pull of the welcoming mirage of closeness. Perhaps salvation if he dared to entertain.

Hatred, anger, violence. Love, passion, devotion. Both burn bright until all-consuming. And in the heat of the moment, he recognized the blurring of the lines.

He thought of them. Untethered angel and machine. So wildly contradictory and identical all the same. Two sides of the Mobius strip – seemingly separate, until their paths merge seamlessly into one. Intimately intertwined, indistinguishable from one to the next.

To push each other into the slit between life and death. Until the fine sparks from clashing metal ignited the flicker of flames into ferocious roaring. Until nothing mattered except here, now, them. Until the light from the fire painted their shadows into one.

The universe could not tell where one began and the other ended.

#hiiiiiii #its me again #ougoguhgoh they GOT ME #ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #gabv1el #<- only if u want #az thoughts

[cleabellanov]

Jet-Skiing through identity: a deep dive into Mobius M. Mobius (part 2) 🛥️

Even the kindest of hearts have a trigger point, a spot that can catch a bullet without bleeding; making it part of the heart's anatomy.

I'm only saying that because I associate Loki as Mobius's soft spot("I know you have a soft spot for broken things"), and Loki turning his back to that in s1e2 as the trigger point. Imagine you have that courage, to do something everyone around you thinks is wrong. Then, just as you were going to prove the opposite,our efforts turn to be in vain.

For Mobius's character, this means he has to turn around at 360, to where he came from; with inovative ideas not working, it all comes to accepting defeat.

He manages that excellently in front of Ravonna: caring more about reassuring her everything will work out rather than focusing on himself. Another example of how much Mobius cares about others, even when he should care more about himself.

Episode 4, season 1, is crucial for where Mobius's story is going.

We can see so many interesting things in his conversation with Loki, like the way he handles stress through amusement. Asif this emotion isn't worthy enough, but to be laughed at:

"You like her! Does she like you?"

After all, let's not forget Mobius was already (and even earlier than this episode) catching feelings for Loki. His own words put this straightforward: "Just kind of an asshole. And a bad friend". Notice how he doesn't use any word similr to "traitor". He still considers him a friend, albeit a bad one, after everything he's done. Mobius might do his best to hide it, but he's still forgiving deep down. And it's not even Loki's departure in time and space that matters the most to the analyst. It's his alliance with Sylvie, hinting once again at the jelaousy of his character I talked about in part 1. "It's ruining my reality right now!" in Mobius's words.

But when he is told by Loki that they're all variants, Mobius doesn't simply dissmiss the idea. He could, and should, given the position he is in. But the brightness of his mind, and that little flicker of hope he still has in his Loki makes the difference. After all, hope is what makes us believe: it's the desire of having something to believe in.

Watch his reaction when he is told all this:

He is masking it flawlessly in front of Loki and the hunters, but that raising hope makes him search: is the trickster out of tricks for once? What if, all this time, that feeling he had inside himself but hid away is actually a sign, gently whispering to him there is more he should know about? That is a bravery so different from live action, and battling with superheroes: the bravery of discovery. Loki telling the truth means Mobius living a lie - a scary thought of course, but not scary enough to stop him.

This all drives Mobius to finding out what actually happened with hunter C-20. And the rest is history.

There is a certain honour in telling Loki he was right from the beginning. This new approach, this insight Mobius now gains over everything give him not only a rush of adrenaline, but also the confidence he didn't allow himself before. Therefore, he wasn't just working half a measure. The limits that were set were not part of his perimeter, but of the TVA's. Now that he sees that, he can also break those limits.

He is also free to speak his mind. And Loki is so deserving of these words that this scene right here is one of the most precious in the entire series. Their wonderful dinamc certainnly gives extra points to that.

Now Mobius isn't just an analyst anymore. He is a rebel, betraying the only thing he believes in, the one institution that shaped his entire existence. This rebellion isn't just external, but internal as well. Ultimately, only one part of the internal conflict won, but the other still exist, like two sides of the same coin, spinning and spinning. But he still has the hope that he'll find something better on the other side, and doesn't stop just because it's a hard thing to do.

If it was easy, everyone would do it. (Loki in Thor The Dark World)

I wanted to write more but this is already getting too long (like damn I'm fangirling hard) so see you for part 3!

#if you liked this reblog so it can reach more people? #marvel #loki #lokius #character analysis #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #mobius #mobius my beloved #writing #writblr #variants #mcu #marvel fandom #comics #the tva #cinema #sorry if I did any mistakes English is not my first language #💛💚

[cha-melodius]

Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

@kiwiana-writes tagged me for "Fic Pride Friday" but let's face it, no one is actually doing this on a Friday anymore and Fic Pride should go the whole weekend.

So I decided to try to give some superlatives—my favorite action sequence, my favorite kiss, my favorite love confession, my favorite comedy moment, etc etc. But the problem was I came up with a LOT of superlatives! Oh well. A few up top, and the rest below the cut. Oh, and there are some spoilers below, so be warned!

Favorite Shouted Love Confession: Love is a Losing Game

“Then what, Illya?” Napoleon demands sharply, frustration heating his face. “What exactly was the problem?” “I love you, Napoleon!” Illya nearly shouts, the words ringing loudly in quiet of the club, and the silence that follows is only broken by Illya’s ragged breaths as Napoleon stares at him in shock. Illya closes his eyes, as if trying to steady himself, and when he opens them again the raw vulnerability in them is startling. “I love you,” he says again, with something like resignation in his voice, “and when they told me you quit I thought I would never see you again, and— and that was not something I could bear.”

Favorite Action Sequence (Duo): This Hell of a Season

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the headlamp rapidly approaching. He’s not sure if it will be fast enough. Henry watches as the dark shape of the man, little more than a shadow under the meagre moonlight, shifts slightly out from behind the hedges again. A few more shots, fired near where the shadow lurks, buys Henry some time, but Alex’s approach feels impossibly slow, as if he were travelling through treacle. One heartbeat passes. Two. Three. Four. The motorbike gets close enough to bathe Henry in a wash of yellow-tinted light; he’s now far too tempting a target, and the man shifts out from behind his cover again. Alex nearly puts the bike on its side as he skids into a stop, cutting the lamp at the last minute and plunging them into darkness. “Here!” he yells, and Henry flings himself in his direction, nearly blind after the brightness of the headlamp.

Favorite Action Sequence (Solo): A Good Man is Hard to Find

Pulling a rope off his belt, Mobius ties it securely around the empty window frame then measures out what he guesses is the right length before attaching the other end to his belt again. On the other side of the table, the guards have stopped firing, but he has no doubt they’ll be advancing on him now that they’ve realized that he’s not shooting back. He’ll need to stand up to be able to jump out far enough, which unfortunately means making an easy target of himself for at least a few seconds. He peeks around the table and sends a couple of bullets toward their feet, which succeeds in making them scatter and retreat backwards. Then, holding onto the window frame for support, Mobius takes a deep, steadying breath and rises to his feet. In the second before he jumps, the guards start shooting at him again and a bullet tears through the outside of his upper arm, but he barely feels it past the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He launches himself out as far as he can until he feels the rope snap tight at his belt, punching the breath out of his body. The line starts swinging him in an arc down toward the window, and he twists wildly as he tries desperately to orient himself in the air. Just before he smashes into the huge sheet of plate glass, he manages to fire twice into it and, in a rain of glass, crashes back into the building two floors down. The shouts of the guards are audible from above, as is the sound of running feet; no doubt they’re already heading back down the stairs. Mobius scrambles up and over toward the delivery entrance where he and Sylvie first came in, smearing the blood that’s dripping down his arm along the floor and doorway in a trail. Satisfied at the feint, he takes off toward the utility room and gets through the door, closing it carefully behind him.

Favorite Car Chase: The Hardest Cut (continues from here, hard to put the whole thing in!)

They turn again, away from the courthouse, and Mobius can unmistakably feel the horrible cocktail of adrenaline and dread that floods into his veins. Loki doesn’t answer his question, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel as he stares fixedly out the windshield, knuckles going painfully white. “You’re starting to worry me, you know,” Mobius says with a nervous chuckle, like it’s a joke. “Little heads up on what we’re doing would be great right about now.” Finally, Loki glances sideways at him—once, twice, then a third, lingering look—then he takes a deep, shuddery breath like he’s coming to a decision. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears emphatically, then jerks the wheel hard to the right, sending them fishtailing into a wild skid and down an alley that looks entirely too narrow. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Favorite Moment of Slapstick Comedy: The Makings of a Perfect Christmastime

Waverly, on the other hand, looks surprisingly unperturbed. “Oh, I know,” he says, incredibly. “Because what it looks like is that my war hero is playing home-wrecker to my star author’s marriage.” He looks pointedly at Illya, who’s mouth opens wordlessly as he flushes a deep scarlet, before his gaze slide back to Napoleon. “But that’s not actually what’s happening here, is it?” Napoleon’s mind is whirring as he tries desperately to figure out what the hell is going on, but before he can think of anything that might offer some kind of reasonable explanation, the door to the kitchen opens again. “I’m hoping that the fact that you didn’t come back to the room means you were getting laid and not in here cooking all night,” Gaby says as she comes in, so focused on the coffee that she doesn’t even see Waverly standing off to the side. For a moment, no one moves, until she turns with a mug of coffee in her hand, spots Waverly, and proceeds to drop it on the floor.

Favorite Wrestling Scene: Double Dutch with a Hand Grenade

Two can play, and all that, and he is not having this conversation on his back. Not when Illya has been seemingly holding all the cards to this point. He cants his hips under Illya—slowly, deliberately—and is gratified when his partner’s eyes go wide. More importantly, the distraction makes his grip on Napoleon’s wrists loosen. Napoleon yanks his hands down, out of Illya’s hold, then slams the heel of his palm hard into his sternum. Illya grunts in pain and surprise, shoulders curling inward, which gives Napoleon enough of an opening to grab the front of his t-shirt and roll them both sideways until Illya’s back thunks hard against the mat. It’s Illya’s turn to glare up at him, still grimacing. Napoleon has effectively reversed their positions, pinning Illya’s wrists to the mat over his head, though he hasn’t managed to secure his lower body. Instead, Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, preventing him from maneuvering or getting any better leverage for a subsequent attack. Of course, that also means Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, which is something he’d been valiantly trying not to imagine ever since that encounter at the café. So much for that. Neither of them is completely in control of this situation, and it’s rapidly starting to seem like that’s true in more ways than one.

Favorite Emotional "Confession": Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood

“Yeah, I mean, it hurts,” he says with a nonchalant shrug he’s pretty sure doesn’t land. He wants to ask, ‘what makes me different? why are you friends with everyone but me?’, but that would give up the game for sure. Instead, he aims for something close. “Sometimes it feels like you’re more distant with me than with other people at the office.” “You’re right,” Henry replies with shocking matter-of-factness. “Casual friends are easy, Alex. There’s no risk when you don’t want anything more from someone than the ability to hold a five minute conversation over coffee in the break room. It’s different when it’s… someone you might truly care about. You’re different.” Alex doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s quickly becoming difficult to tell where the lies end and the truth begins. “Oh,” he says, floundering a little. “I guess I can see that.”

Favorite Flirty Email: Class(room) Warfare

To: Alexander Claremont-Diaz <[email protected]> From: Henry Fox-Mountchristen <[email protected]> Subject: Re: your shirts Dr. Acerbic Cocky-Disaster I am quite certain you’ve never given anyone a break in your life. Regretfully, Henry Assistant Professor of What Did I Do To Deserve This

Favorite Seductive Spoon-licking (yes, I have more than one): All the Old Showstoppers

Locating a clean tasting spoon, he scoops a bit of the buttercream out of his mixer and holds it out to Alex across the top of his station. Their fingers brush when Alex reaches out to take it, and an image of Alex holding a very similar spoon up to his lips flashes through Henry’s mind. His mouth goes slightly dry at the memory, and that’s before Alex proceeds to stick the spoon deep into his mouth and draw it slowly out between his lips. Alex’s low hum, which skirts dangerously close to a moan, is somehow audible over the buzz of activity in the tent, and his eyelids flutter slightly as his pink tongue slips out to lick the back of the spoon in a manner that is far too seductive for their current setting. Who could have guessed that giving Alex a spoon would be such a massive mistake? Because Henry can see a camera currently filming them out of the corner of his eye, but he still can’t seem to force his own bloody mouth closed, nor can he hope to control the flush that is no doubt painting his cheeks a rather lurid pink, if he knows himself. The best he can hope for is that he just looks stunned rather than incredibly turned on by the display before him. “Ok, yeah, that’s good,” Alex says, snapping him out of the daze he finds himself in. He grins, and the mischief sparkling in his eyes is enough to make Henry believe he did that on purpose. “Guess you’re gonna make things hard for me, huh Wales?”

Favorite Movie Adaptation Moment: False Dichotomy

“Sometimes I wonder,” Alex says, staring up at the leaves fluttering in the breeze over the sidewalk. “If you hadn’t been Mountchristen, and I hadn’t been Under the Rainbow Books…” “Alex,” Henry breathes, a little unsteadily. Alex keeps going because he is, as previously established, an idiot. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Henry, though. “Maybe I’d have gotten up the courage to ask for your number.” “I’d have asked for yours,” Henry says firmly, surprising him. That does make Alex turn back toward him again. “That first day in the shop. Wouldn’t have been able to wait even twenty-four hours before asking you out to dinner.” “We’d never have been at war,” Alex continues. “The only thing we’d fight about is what to watch on Saturday night.” “Only because you have terrible taste in Star Wars movies,” Henry teases.

Favorite Angsty Kiss: So Close to Something Better Left Unknown

Alex hesitates a moment too long for it not to be an answer. Henry’s eyes are dark and wild with primal desire and something else, something more terrifying than even that, and Alex murmurs, “It doesn’t matter.” “Alex—” Alex turns in his arms and drags him into a kiss that catches like dry tinder, lighting such an inferno under his skin that Alex feels like he’s the one who’s been drugged. This is a fucking mistake, he thinks desperately, then his mind goes blissfully blank as Henry’s tongue slides into his mouth. It’s rough, demanding, as much as sparring match as a kiss, particularly when Henry sinks a hand into his hair and tugs hard, then bites down on Alex’s lower lip when he gasps as stars burst in his vision. Alex gives as good as he gets, though, finally getting his teeth on those sinful fucking lips and swallowing Henry’s answering moans.

Favorite Almost Kiss: White Knuckles

When he comes out of his last spin, Napoleon joins him for the final movements, an expansive trip across the ice that usually ends with Illya hunched over, almost on one knee, as if clutching an apparently dead Juliet. Now, though, there is an actual body in his grasp: Napoleon is underneath him, back bent into a graceful arc, being held off the ice only by Illya’s grip on his hip and his palm splayed between his shoulder blades. As the music comes to its grand conclusion he meets Napoleon’s eyes, and suddenly Napoleon doesn’t seem so unaffected anymore. He’s certainly breathless, all right, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, and it would be so easy for Illya to flex his arms and draw him upward until their lips meet. Illya considers it a true testament to his self control that he doesn’t do it. “Wow,” Napoleon breathes, after a long moment in which he has made no move to disentangle himself from Illya. Then one corner of his mouth quirks upward into a smirk. “Now that’s more like it.” It is also a testament to Illya’s self control that he doesn’t drop him on the ice.

Favorite Cliffhanger: Nova, Baby

A couple of officers with red crosses on their helmets hurry forward as Raf grabs Alex’s arm and tries to pull him to the side. Somewhere deep inside, Alex knows that he has to let go, that Henry’s only hope is the medical team. The panic choking him has fully taken over now, though, and he only clutches Henry more tightly to his chest. “N-no, Raf, please,” he pleads. “You have to let go of him, kid.” “No, no, I can’t, I can’t—“ “Alex! Look at me!” Raf commands sharply. The order catches Alex full in the chest and he responds instinctively, his gaze snapping up to meet dark, worried eyes. A face much like his own, but lined and careworn after years at the agency. A face that has seen more than its share of hopeless situations. A face that is telling Alex, now, to trust him. “You have to,” Raf says again, his voice gentle but firm. Alex lets go.

Favorite First Meeting: Cold Light

“That doesn’t sound good,” the man replies as he straightens up again. Whatever he was doing he seems to be done with, even though he hasn’t touched a thing. He stares up at the sky for a moment, as if lost in thought; in the silence that follows, Mobius watches ribbons of what’s shaping up to be a rather spectacular display of the aurora borealis begin winding their way across the night’s sky behind him. “So? What do you think?” “Hm?” “About the engine.” “Oh, I don’t actually know anything about engines.” Mobius stares at him for a beat in disbelief. “Then why’d you want to see it?” The man shrugs, a vaguely amused expression playing on his features. “Seemed like a thing one does when your vehicle breaks down.”

Favorite Outsider Perspective: That's What Other People Do

“You know me so well, Peril,” Solo says to him before taking a huge bite. He briefly looks, somewhat bizarrely, like a chipmunk. “I know you are somehow always hungry,” Kuryakin returns. “And you get as excited about greasy diner food as gourmet restaurant.” Solo swallows and grins broadly. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than greasy diner food. If I’m gonna have to go to Jersey for this mission, I might as well indulge. Gimme some of your milkshake, would you?” Kuryakin lets out a put-upon sigh, but his mouth is unmistakably tugging up at the corners as he slides the half empty glass over toward his partner. Robin chews slowly as she watches them continue to banter about the food as if she wasn’t there at all. Kuryakin stretches an arm out along the back of the booth behind Solo’s shoulders, and when Solo finally polishes off the burger he settles back against it, almost but not quite tucked against Kuryakin’s side, looking immensely satisfied.

Favorite Angsty Confrontation: Little by Little

“How many have there been?” Napoleon whispers. Suddenly his proximity is unbearable. Close enough that Illya could lean in and kiss him in an instant, and wouldn’t that just be the perfect cap on all of this misery? He can almost imagine the slide of his lips and the heat of his mouth for a moment before the fantasy threatens to choke him. Illya drops his arm and turns away, striding across the room as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know,” he says into his palms, and it’s nearly inaudible to even him so he knows Napoleon did not hear the answer. “How many, Peril? I mean are we talking a one or two, or a handful, or—” “I don’t know!” Illya bellows, wheeling back toward him. 

Tagging @orchidscript, @historicallysam, @leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @three-drink-amy

@loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @magicandarchery, @14carrotghoul

@mirilyawrites, @eusuntgratie, @cactusdragon517, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, @magicandarchery

@myheartalivewrites

So that's the number of snippets I posted, but PLEASE if you see this and want to do it, jump in!! Be proud of your fics!

#fic pride friday #fic pride weekend #rwrb #firstprince #napollya #tmfu #lokius

[p-mechu]

【MTP】｜ The Mobius Ring

the Mobius ring has only one side,

If you don't believe me,

Please cut one to verificate,

The strip is still connected when it's separated.

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Notes:

The two people who were never supposed to touch, but were magically brought together by fate, met for the first time on the ship, ran into each other on the train, and, out of the blue, was providence.

The strip is still connected when it's separated.

The moment you cross the red line and hold on to each other is not accidental but inevitable.

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More Notes:

Some explanations for this work you can skip if you don't want to read it.

(Anyways, It started because I wanted to buy a mouse pad but couldn't find one so I decided to draw one myself lol.)

Actually, the above article has explained the general but there are still a few points I would like to add.

One thing is that the Mobius ring which is a mathematical structure that I think has always been very closely related to Sherliam's relationship. Also William is mathematician, so I think that's a perfect metaphor for the two of them.

The ring presents to look like two sides are actually one side, which represents that they stand on opposite positions but have similar interests. In a way, it seems that one of them is in the dark side and the other is on the bright side, but in fact they are all acting for justice on the same line.

Another thing is the way the strip wraps them together, I tried to show the bond and connection between them, also with the lighting implying that they are on a "stage", a stage of life. In addition, their gestures imitate the act of "catch"(I catch you & Plz catch(help) me), which is the scene where William being held tight and both fell into the river, where the lines of their fate intersect. It's a depiction of their true emotions, mind state and spiritual connection.

Thank you for reading my nonsense, hope you like it, pls leave a message in the comment area if you like.🙏

ps. I remember Sherlock seems to have the ring on his right hand, but I'm too lazy to change 👊🏻

#moriarty the pariot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #william james moriarty #sherliam

[familyabolisher]

Could you expand on your thoughts on Amy Parker's Kingdom by the Sea?

The cruelest part is its introduction. Did you realize [Nabokov] killed her off? I didn’t. Who reads an introduction? But it is true. Right away, without ceremony, he undoes her. He anticipates any attempts on the part of her readers to help her, to free her, to resist the text by imagining her beyond its borders, by allowing her, perhaps, an adulthood. He withholds this—the great gift of any fiction—the margin beyond which characters may persist. Before we ever meet her, he nails her down in her coffin. The book is her tomb—she’s walled up in it. He knew what he was doing; he was no fool. He bricks her up with offhanded casualness in the masonry of the book. The only life she is allowed is the life he gives her. Dolly Hayes tries and tries to break through, she is a scintilla in the book, a bright rebellious flicker in the margins. But he is so tightfisted, so malicious—that he will not allow her to draw a single breath in another person’s imagination, let alone her own. I could almost forgive him, I could almost believe those moments when his narrator’s conscience pricks—his beautiful ironies of perspective; in the mournful and sharp fragments of her truth which he allows to break through—if he had only let her to live.

[...]

But nothing can make Dolores die—if death means hold still, if death means that which settles you, that which chloroforms you and pins you like a butterfly to a bit of paper—my little Lo-lepidoptera has more metamorphoses for you. Go ahead. Keep writing Dolores into HHis bed, into her grave. Mock her, love her, murder her, knock her down or knock her up. Lie about her. Dolores will not die. You can’t fix our Dolores with death. You can’t prevent her escape. So play your games. Turn her rape into an origami shape a reader can fold and refold obsessively, or make of her tale a Mobius strip, where Dolores is on both sides and neither. Go on, wax acrobatic, let people peep through the cracks in your voice and play out your end game.

We, her daughters, her granddaughters, her sisters and aunts, we will send Dolores back into the alphabet. She will not die. Unpack her name. Put it through its paces like Proteus. Dolores will find a door, she will always find a door. It is hidden—did you not see it—it is hidden in her name.

^ i don't think this is fair on nabokov and i think this desire to rescue dolores from the narrative and imagine her outside of it or whatever is fundamentally at odds with a coherent engagement with the book -- the attempted totality of humbert's narrative vs the moments where dolores can 'break through,' so to speak, is stronger for that scarcity -- like sorry but i think dolores dying is one of the strongest choices made in the book lmao. i can see what it does for people but personally i find the reluctance to confront dolores' death and account for it as a narratological device rather than a real thing that happened to a real person kind of silly.

#ask #v well-written piece but just not an engagement with lolita that i find useful or interesting

[blackleatherjacketz]

I See You

Loki x Mobius

Summary: Mobius tries his best to get over Loki... until he sends him a sign on Christmas.

Notes: This is my very angsty, very early contribution to @sarahscribbles and their Christmas Loki Fic event. It's how I'm dealing with the pain of the finale. Enjoy!

Read more Loki!

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The bright neon ‘Open’ sign flickers as Mobius sits down at the very first booth available, unbuttoning his suit jacket to get more comfortable in his seat. He gazes over the menu, glancing aimlessly over the words he’d seen dozens of times before in hundreds of different combinations, only none of them seem to make any sense to him at the moment. If he was being completely honest with himself, nothing had really made sense to him anymore; not after he left.

No amount of coffee he drank could sustain him. The food he ate lacked its usual flavor as the air felt flat and stale against his face, even if he was out on the water and the sun was still shining. He couldn’t sleep, yet he was always tired; too exhausted to wear his body out during the day to fall into a restful state at night. Instead he found himself staring at the ceiling with a bottle of whiskey in his hand as reruns of M.A.S.H. played in the background. That theme song seemed to be the only real form of comfort he was able to find until his body finally gave in, and his weeping eyes fell shut.

He could have kept his old life back at the TVA, but the pain of being there, of walking the same halls and touching the same surfaces without him at his side was just too much to bear. There was no way he could have stayed with all those memories haunting him like a ghost that everyone else saw and heard, but refused to address directly. He tried taking on other cases to distract himself, to get back into the practice of helping others, but he was of no use to them while his mind remained elsewhere.

He’d never felt more alone in his entire life.

He was stupid enough to think that he could fix this empty feeling by simply visiting some of Loki’s variants before he retired. He thought that if he at least saw his face or heard his voice again, it would be enough to place a cool balm over the gaping wound his sudden absence had carved into his soul. But not one of his variants knew who he was. None of them cared about him or found an excuse to touch him instead of admitting that they desired human contact, that they needed that closeness they were so deprived of as a child. None of them would fix his tie or grab hold of his arm just to bring him near, or even brush an eyelash off his cheek as those icy blues of theirs stared at him for just a little too long. None of them cared about anyone else besides themselves. None of them were ‘his Loki’.

Seeing their faces as they spoke down to others only made the pain that much worse, tugging at his insides as the man he came to know and love seemed to be even further away than before. So, he thought that a change of scenery might help, that if he let time pass in a completely different part of the world that he’d somehow be able to forget about him. About all of it, and eventually move on. But no matter where he went, no matter how hot or how cold, he always seemed to feel that nagging sense of longing, that inevitable… void inside him.

He always found himself wanting to tell ‘his Loki’ all about his new experiences, about the things that he saw or the people he met, to see what his reaction might be. He imagined that he’d raise his eyebrows at him in a sly, amused manner like he always used to, holding back his laughter with a tilt of his head. Or maybe he’d…

“Ready to order, sugar?” The waitress approaches him with her notepad, pulling him out of his thoughts and into the present as he remembers to look over the menu.

“I think I’m gonna need a minute,” he tells her, eyeing a faded picture of a club sandwich on the laminated piece of paper. “But I’ll start with a cup of coffee.”

“Sure thing.” She scribbles onto her notebook and leaves him to his thoughts.

It wasn’t fair. Any of it. How he’d run down those stairs so quickly without saying goodbye, that look in his eyes wet with sorrow as his lips pressed into a thin fine line. Sure, he’d saved everyone in the process, but what good was that if he had to go on living without him? What was the point of going out into the world if he had no one to share it with? It’s not like there were people here on earth he could openly talk to about his experiences, that there was anyone on any of the timelines who could possibly understand his plight.

Mobius stares at the empty seat across from him, wistfully imagining Loki’s tall, slender frame cramped into the squeaky old booth as he sighs in reluctant acceptance. He wonders, just for a second, what kind of coat he would have chosen to wear in the bitter cold of December as the snow falls down from the blackened sky. He fantasizes about how gorgeous his raven locks would’ve looked littered with the thousand different designs of snowflakes falling onto them, wondering if he’d brush them away or simply let them melt onto his skin. He wonders if he’d fall down if he took him skating at an ice rink, those long legs of his betraying him. He wonders how he’d feel about cozying up and watching a cheesy Christmas movie with a cup of hot cocoa.

DING DING!

Mobius turns in his seat as the diner’s door bell jingles, opening to a young man with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He’s about eighteen or twenty years old, brown hair with deeply saddened eyes as he looks around the nearly empty restaurant before sitting down awkwardly at the booth directly across from him. He can tell that the boy’s been crying, his insistent sniffling giving away the fact that his reddened nose and cheeks weren’t just from the frigid cold outside.

Why would a kid like that be alone, like him, on Christmas?

The waitress hands Mobius his coffee with a plate of cream and sugar on the side before walking up to the stranger, turning over her piece of paper for a new order. “What’ll ya have, sugar?”

Oh, I guess she calls everybody that.

The boy looks down at the menu, squinting a little to see through his saline soaked eyes before they seem to flash a shade of green. He smiles and looks up at her, confidently setting the menu down on the tabletop. “I’ll have a slice of key lime pie, oh and uh… one for him, too, please.” He points directly at Mobius with a mischievous grin.

What the shit?

The waitress nods and walks away.

“I’m sorry, did you just order me a slice of pie?” It hurt him too much to say the full name of the flavor out loud. Stupid, he knows, but he’ll get over it eventually.

The boy shakes his head as if to rid himself of the snowflakes that have landed on top of his head. “Huh?”

Mobius leans forward in his seat as his heart skips an expectant beat, pointing at him accusingly. “Did you just order me a slice of pie?” He repeats himself.

“Did I? Yeah, I guess I did.” He looks just as confused as he is, looking out at the dreary holiday weather before glancing back at him. “Look sir, I’m sorry. I can’t really explain it, but something told me to come to this diner tonight and order that specific thing.”

Something? What the hell was he talking about? It couldn’t be…

Mobius just stares at the young man, his mouth agape as the waitress sets down each of their slices in front of them. They’re almost identical to the ones he and Loki ate together at the TVA, right down to the very color and the candied lime on top as garnish. “What?”

The boy puts his hands up in defense, twisting his face with worry as if he expects to be met with anger and aggression.

Mobius knew that Loki was out here beyond time and space holding their universe together, that their lives were literally in his hands, but he didn’t know exactly how closely he was watching, or if he could actually see him at all. He didn’t know if he could interfere with even the smallest of events, but now he knows he’d be remiss to think otherwise. How else would this boy know to order that exact thing for him? How else would he know to come here to find him, all alone on Christmas night?

There’s no such thing as coincidence.

“Yeah,” is all Mobius can think to say, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thanks, kid.” He picks up his fork and digs into the bright green triangle.

“Sir? Can I sit with you?” The boy asks, quickly standing up with his plate and doing so anyway.

“Umm, yeah, sure, I, uh…” he stammers, half wanting to stay in the dark abyss of his memories instead of being present with this stranger who seems to be a little… wait a minute. Mobius recognizes him from his file at the TVA.

He was no stranger to the multiverse at all.

His grief had blinded him to the suffering of this child, this lonely wanderer who had just recently lost all of his friends and family, too. Mobius was so down about losing just one person, that he didn’t notice this kid who had no one else left. His name was Peter something, Peter… Parker, if he remembered correctly, the spider kid. Their stories weren’t the same by any means, but they were definitely in the same boat, both of them trying to stay afloat in worlds that no longer knew them.

“I see you,” he whispers to himself, hoping that Loki can hear him.

“Thanks, Mister…” the boy trails off before taking a bite, tilting his head in hopes of getting his name.

Mobius thinks of giving him the name of his alias, of keeping up the ruse he’d put on for the rest of the world, but decides that Peter could be the one person he tells his real name to. That he could at least give him that. It is Christmas, after all.

“I’m Mobius.” He states confidently, holding out his hand for him to shake.

“I’m…” he begrudgingly finishes his bite, trying not to make it too obvious that he doesn’t quite like the flavor.

“Peter.” He shakes his hand without thinking about what he just called him, the first genuine smile crossing his lips since he left the TVA. “I know.”

The boy’s eyes fill up with tears, his lips quivering as he tries his best to press them together, still holding onto Mobius’ hand in a redundant shaking motion. “You know me?”

Mobius nods in silence, holding back his own tears as he allows himself to hold space for this kid who has to be even more scared than he is. “Something like that.”

“But I don’t remember meeting you, Doctor Strange said that no one else could…”

“I know.” He whispers, wondering if this is Loki’s way of comforting him until he figures out how to come back; someone to help him get through the pain of it all, and vice versa. “It’s gonna be okay, kid. Let’s just say that we know a few of the same people.”

#lokius #loki #mobius #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #tom hiddleston #owen wilson #marvel #loki series #loki laufeyson

[typewriterwolf]

WIP Wednesday

Lokius. Post Loki S2 finale. Mobius looks for home.

Mobius looks. He looks through the pane of glass, the thick barrier the only thing protecting him from the universes and himself. He reaches out to put a bare hand on the glass, droplets clouding the surface; warm hand on cold ice. On the other side, the threads of space and time glimmer in iridescent emerald, weaving up into blooms of bright blue, ends shimmering purple. He is brought back again, breath caught in his throat in that moment as he looked through the small, rectangular window, banging futilely on the cold, hard metal of the doors, the metallic ringing competing with the blaring alarms. Loki looked back. Blue gaze on blue. There was a steely resolve in their eyes, but also, the weariness at a surrender, an acceptance of a burden unknown to Mobius, then the smile. That smile. For you.

Tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

For anyone else who wants to do it (@iamtonoone, maybe?)

Apologies for the late activity. I've been caught up with real life recently and not writing much at all. BUT here's to hoping this fic will one day be completed! :3

#lokius #loki season 2 #loki x mobius #wip wednesday #writer tag game

[n0sewise]

I was tagged by @recents on my main blog for WIP Wednesday, so I’m posting here on my side blog since this is where I post writing/fandom stuff. I’m tagging everyone and no one bc I’m too anxious to individually tag people (//∇//)

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my killugon royalty au. Super rough and it needs way more fleshing out, but I think you can still get the idea from what’s here:

Kurapika wasn’t all that bad. Gon actually quite liked his tutor, and he’d come highly recommended to Aunt Mito as a fine scholar and an even brighter teacher. Even now, his smooth voice carried pleasantly throughout the room as he lectured Gon on something about fish. Fishing, probably. The Eastern Coast was known for its plentiful fish, having the good fortune of being located in the middle of the Gulf of Mobius. Or was it the Western Coast? One of the coasts, anyway. He’d only just gotten back from visiting a neighbouring earl’s daughter in the east, and Gon had quite liked the beaches. There hadn’t been much time to explore; there were dances and feasts, and the earl had wanted him to get to know his—

“Prince Gon?”

“Sorry, what?”

Kurapika’s delicate brows knit together in a pinched crease on his forehead. “I asked if you could tell me why Kujira stations our naval forces on the Eastern Coast only.”

”Oh,” said Gon. He thought for a moment. It would have something to do with fish, wouldn’t it? Kurapika had been talking about fish, and about—

He was saved from answering by a frenzied knock at the heavy, cypress door.

It was Zushi once again, and breathing hard like he’d run the entire way there.

“Your Excellency,” he panted, nodding at Kurapika. “Your Royal Highness, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but the Queen wishes to see the prince.” He straightened up from his deep bow. “She’s in her chambers,” he added. “It’s urgent.”

Gon could hardly fight his grin.

”I really should—“

”Just go,” said Kurapika with a dismissive gesture.

Aunt Mito’s chambers were all the way on the other end of the palace, and nearly the complete and polar opposite of Kurapika’s study. They were bright and airy, with long sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze, and nearly every surface was decorated with a flowering plant or vine of some sort. Gon smiled when he spotted his mother busily tending to one of her plants, imbuing it with her own sparkling energy until its leaves were plump and vibrant with life.

“Aunt Mito? You wanted to see me?”

“Gon!” She turned and met him with a bone crushing hug once he was within reach.

“Is everything okay? Zushi said it was urgent.”

She waved a hand impatiently, her armful of bangles and charms clacking all the while, and laughed him off. “That boy is so serious,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong, but I’ve received another courtship proposal, and—“

Gon couldn’t help it, he wilted on the spot the moment the word courtship left her mouth.

”Aunt Mito, this is the eighth one this year, and it’s only April!”

”It’s only April and you’ve turned down eight perfectly nice options!” she countered. “Come sit,” she said, moving over to settle on her bed. “Sweetheart, I really think you’ll like this one.”

Gon collapsed next to her, falling back onto Aunt Mito’s soft blankets with a grunt.

”You said that last time,” he reminded her. “And it’s okay, I didn’t mind meeting her at all! I thought Noko was a very nice girl!”

”She was,” Aunt Mito agreed, “but I really do think you’ll want to see this next one. He’s a prince just like you,” she added. “So you’ll have that much in common.”

”Sure,” he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel. “I’ll go look. It can’t hurt, right?”

”Wonderful! The Padokean emissaries are already waiting for you to approve.”

Gon blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Aunt Mito could only smile helplessly. “They were insistent that their prince’s portrait be viewed in the best possible light, and I wouldn’t let them have the throne room for it.”

”All that for a painting? I’ll meet him, if that’s what you’re asking, Aunt Mito.” He’d already pushed himself up into a seated position, but even from this angle, she was hard to read, a funny sort of smirk twitching on her lips.

“There’s no need for that, Gon,” she said. “Just go and have a look and you can let me know if you’d like us to make arrangements. The emissaries are in the courtyard.”

Weird, thought Gon as he walked through the palace. All that fuss for a painting seemed excessive, but he’d promised Aunt Mito. Padokea rang a distant bell in the back of his mind, and he remembered that it had been in one of the readings Kurapika had wanted him to finish. Nothing to do about it now, he figured, already smiling as he stepped back out and into the sunshine. He’d reached the courtyard.

The emissaries were indeed waiting for him outside. There were two of them, and they looked woefully out of place under the warm blanket of Kujiran sunlight. Both wore sharply tailored jackets with stiff high collars that covered their necks entirely. They stood among the jacaranda trees, solemnly holding what must have been the painting under a dark veil of fabric.

“Your Royal Highness,” said the one on the right, bowing his head.

“Oh, hi,” said Gon. They still hadn’t lowered the painting, and he wondered if their arms ever got tired. “You know you can put that down, right?”

The second emissary looked at him, and despite maintaining a rather stoic expression, Gon could see her lip curl ever so slightly in what he could only assume was disgust.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!”

”We have been entrusted with the safe passage of our crown prince’s portrait,” she sniffed. “Its beauty shall never touch the ground beneath our feet.”

”Uhhh,” said Gon. “Okay, well whenever you’re ready, I guess?”

Both of them straightened immediately, standing even more stiffly than before. With a sweeping motion of his arm, the first man began to speak.

“Prince Gon of Kujira, we present to you The Crown Prince of Padokea, First of His Name, Heir to the Throne of Shadows, and Pride of the Zoldyck Family: His Royal Highness Prince Killua Zoldyck.”

And Gon hardly had enough time to reflect on either the lengthy title, or how the emissary managed to say all of that without taking a single breath, because his partner had already pulled the veil from the painting, and there, looking out at him from a gleaming silver frame, was the most beautiful boy he’d ever laid eyes on.

Gon’s breath caught in his throat as he stared. Immediately he understood why the emissaries had insisted on unveiling it among the jacaranda trees. Anything less would’ve been an insult to the boy in the painting. He gazed haughtily out of the frame at Gon, his sharp, elfin features frozen in a bored, half-lidded expression. It was hard to know where to look, Gon realized, his gaze roving every which way. There was the sharp angle of the prince’s jawline, softened only by his full, pouting lips. The prince’s hair too, was striking in its own right. It was entirely white, like the smooth, sun bleached colour of a seashell, framing his face in messy waves. In the end it was his eyes that Gon couldn’t look away from. They were large and blue, and framed by a set of long, silver eyelashes that lent him the appearance of something not quite human staring out from behind his frame.

One of the emissaries cleared their throat.

“Is he to your liking then?”

Gon forced a laugh and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck as he grinned.

”Yeah—I mean yes. Yes. He’s…” he trailed off. “Send the letter. Please. I’d very much like to meet him.”

An odd sort of smile twitched at the edge of the shorter emissary’s mouth, and she hid it before he could comment.

“Very well,” she said. “We’ll notify the royal family.”

#nosewise writing tag #i swear I’m going to edit but right now I’m just trying to get a first draft finished

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Any thoughts/comments to share on your 'Post S1 Loki crying sex' idea you have listed in your WIPs? I'm always a sucker for emotions running high while in the act 🥰😂

Yeah, I'm a sucker for Loki crying and Mobius taking care of them. In this one, Loki ends up with TVA-present Mobius after getting pushed through a timedoor from the citadel. There's an established relationship between them, even if Loki hasn't figured it all out yet. Maybe they will during this fic.

Anyway, the opening snippet for you, which doesn't have any sexual content in it, unless you count my very obvious dacryphilia I've passed onto Mobius 😅. They/them pronouns for Loki.

"She sent me away," Loki snivelled, head bent over as they sat on the edge of Mobius' bed. Tears flowed down their face, their chest heaving. They rubbed at their wet cheeks with the palms of their hands. "I know," Mobius said, climbing onto the bed behind them. It creaked with each movement. "I know." He sat on his knees, spread wide to slot himself at Loki's back. His hands wrapped around their collarbone, not bothered by how dirty they were. It felt safe to let go with him. Their friend, the one who was here at the end while everything was falling apart. Tilting their head back, Loki leaned against Mobius' shoulder and stared up into those blue eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Those eyes shone bright, glassy like their own but filled with a kindness they didn't deserve. How they ached for love. Deep inside, they wanted to be worthy, to be wanted. Mobius leaned down and pressed a kiss against their forehead. Loki felt their eyes flutter at the sensation, heard themself taking a sharp inhale. "You don't need to," Loki said, re-opening their eyes to look at him. "I know," Mobius repeated, kissing down their face, along their neck. His hands came up and cradled Loki's head. "I don't…" "Ssssh," Mobius soothed. "It's okay. I know." Perhaps he did. Loki didn't. They had failed at everything they'd ever done. Failed to outshine their brother, to get their father's love. Failed to stop Sylvie killing He Who Remains. There should be nothing left for them, except here was Mobius, a man they thought they would never see again. But nothing had gone like they'd expected. And their friend was showing them affection. They let Mobius move their face to the side, then felt his lips against theirs. They were soft and gentle. Tender, like he thought Loki was fragile. Which is exactly how they felt.

#loki series #lokius #loki #mobius #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #loki show #loki tv #lokius fic #wowki #time husbands #time frost #my wips #wip tag ask

[art-ro-vert]

Don’t get me wrong but I need Sylvie to suffer!

I need long angsty post-cannon story from Sylvie’s pov. I need her to observe how Mobius is loosing himself after Loki left.

I want Sylvie to get close to Mobius, because he avoids everyone else and they really start to worry for him.

I want her to make check ups on him, to visit him more and more for no reason, because the guy is breaking apart and he has no one else.

I want Sylvie to start caring and seeing how bad he hurts. I want her to slowly notice how he changes and looses his bright positive side, because there is no purpose for him in this world anymore.

And I want her to get absorbed in guilt, because that is for her mistakes Loki, and apparently Mobius, are paying.

Mobius lost all of himself, all the gentleness and kindness she always took for granted, so she could waste her time on useless job and junky food. And who knows what Loki has lost, everything and everyone it seems.

I want her to come home (to where she is sleeping) after spending a day trying to make Mobius at least a bit like himself again.

And I want her to cry and say that she is sorry, and that she did not want it all and that it was selfish. And I want her to beg Loki to “please come back, don’t you see it’s all falling apart without you?”

And eventually I want her to find a way to Loki and take his place. Because she has the powers, and it is a great meaningful job.

And because then she can observe how Loki comes back and finds Mobius. And how they heal day by day and build a life together. And there is life in Mobius’ eyes again, and he smiles like he means it.

And she is not lonely either, because Loki visits often. And they talk and they laugh. And he brings Thor and Love, and they accept her as a family.

And it finally feels so right! And for the first time she feels like she has a purpose!

#lokius #loki series #loki season 2 #loki #mobius m mobius #mobius #loki x mobius #sylvie #loki and sylvie #thor and loki #god of stories #loki god of time

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 6

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: This chapter might just be my favorite.

Masterlist | Read ch 5 here

It's been a few days since Loki had convinced you to share that cup of tea with him, and things have been… pleasant. You were still guarded and sometimes on the defensive when around Loki, but you were not actively avoiding him anymore, he may even go as far as saying you might be enjoying his company at times.

There were also moments where those same defenses dulled down, moments where Loki would have glimpses of that same girl he had seen on TVA's time teather when he'd first arrived. And the more he spent time with you, the more he understood why he would've fallen for you in his future. And why he was falling for you now.

"Please, Mobius," you made a show of clasping your hands together right under your chin, "I just need a moment to breathe."

Loki and Mobius were sitting at the latter's desk, mindlessly chatting, and you had popped out of nowhere a few minutes ago, making yourself comfortable on top of his desk.

"There's air all around you, breathe away," Mobius gestured widely.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your features. Loki subconsciously found himself mimicking it as he looked at you.

"You know what I mean," you said quieter, avoiding his eyes and swinging your feet back and forth softly. You briefly looked at Loki, gaze roaming over the slope of his nose and the lines of his jaw, before focusing back on Mobius; "Please?" You asked more genuinely.

Mobius sighed loudly, clearly already giving in to your pleading. He cursed under his breath and fished out his tempad from his pocket, giving it to you. "If you get caught, I'm pretending I don't know you and that you stole it from me."

The grin that painted your features was big and bright, "You know I'm not getting caught," you gave him a wink, and then added softly; "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Mobius waved you off, but he was smiling too.

Loki watched the exchange quietly until you left and were out of earshot. He turned to Mobius, one elbow resting on the desk. "You never gave me the tempad when I asked."

Mobius side-eyed him, "That's because she's responsible, and you're not."

A deep frown appeared on Loki's face, he straightened his posture. "That's absurd, I'm way more responsible than she is." He spoke matter of factly, gesturing to the general direction you had scurried off to, "Have you seen her desk? I don't know how she even works in the middle of that mess."

Mobius chuckled, he was enjoying this. "I stand by my point."

─── ·❆· ───

Your clothes were clinging to your body, your hair stuck to your forehead, there were droplets on your eyelashes, and pools of water appeared on the floor from your dripping clothes with each step you took.

The TVA was mostly dark and empty, with only a few dim lights here and there, as it was already late. You smiled and chuckled to yourself as you walked past the library and headed to the elevator, feeling alive.

The doors of the elevator slowly slid open only to reveal Loki. He had a small pack of Skittles in one hand that you were certain you had seen on Mobius' desk earlier. His other hand stopped midair before it reached his mouth as soon as he laid eyes on you.

For the first time, your smile grew just a tad wider upon seeing him.

Loki had a confused crease on his eyebrows, his lips hung open for a second more as his gaze roamed up and down your body before settling on your face. "You're soaked." He stated, as if you didn't know.

"Yes," You beamed.

Loki's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Why?"

You took a single step closer to him, tilting your head to the side softly, watching as he visibly gulped at your closeness. "Don't you miss it?" You asked, voice quiet. "The rain, the wind, the sunlight, the smell of grass and trees?"

His bright eyes softened then, he glanced away and his expression turned melancholic for a moment, as if your question had reminded him of the feeling; "Yes, I suppose I do."

You pursed your lips, holding onto Mobius' tempad in your jacket pocket. A part of you had alarms blaring inside your head, the other, was begging you to not think and just do it. The weight of Loki's presence was familiar and foreign all the same. Dangerous territory, as you tiptoed the blurred lines of what he had started to mean to you, and the memories from before that still haunted your nightmares. Despite what you had so adamantly told yourself as soon as you laid eyes on Loki… you'd gone soft. Having him around seemed to ease the parts of your heart that still ached, even when you didn't want it to, even when you were still scared and confused.

Only today, you told yourself. Only today would be okay. Because the ocean that was his bright eyes held that same sadness that had drawn you to him for the first time all those years ago, after all. Denying it was becoming a fool's game.

You took the tempad from your pocket and hit a few buttons until a smoked-glass doorway popped open behind you. Glancing up at Loki, you said; "Come on," and turned around, walking into the doorway.

Loki hesitated for only a beat before discarding the pack of Skittles and following after you.

The first thing he felt was the heavy raindrops hitting his cheeks and soaking his clothes. Loki blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes so he could see past the storm. It was a deserted street, the worn roadway stretched far beyond what he could see, surrounded by green fields with no houses in sight; the sky was mostly cloudy, but on a far corner a few faint stripes of a setting sun could be spotted; the rain falling down was heavy and constant, pattering loudly against the asphalt and the tall grass beside it.

You stood a few feet ahead of him, with your head tilted up to the sky and your eyes closed. The rain cascaded down your skin, kissing your lips and trailing a path down your neck that Loki couldn't help but follow. It soaked your clothes and hair, just as it did his. And yet you looked absolutely ethereal.

Loki found himself glued to the ground as he simply took in the sight before him. The rain glistened on your skin as it was shaped by the rogue bouts of sunlight, a small blissed-out smile lingered on your lips as you took in the feeling of being under the earth's elements. Straight out of a dream.

Finally turning your attention to him, you stretched your arms to the side, speaking louder so he could hear you over the rain; "doesn't it make you feel alive?"

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Loki told you, taking half a step closer to you as he put his wet hair behind his ears.

You rolled your eyes but your smile remained, "Come on, Loki. The rain washes your soul, it's freeing, it's-" You looked up at the sky again, breathing in deeply, "It shows you can still feel."

Words failed Loki, he tried not to dwell too much on the fact that this was the first time you had called him by his name.

When he didn't answer, you looked at him for a beat, hesitating and worrying your lower lip between your teeth before you extended both hands towards him.

The rain somehow grew heavier, paired with a cold wind that made your hair flow. Loki switched his gaze between your eyes and your outstretched hands. Confused, asking for permission. When you simply wiggled your fingers, he took one of your hands, delicately, almost as if afraid to touch you.

You grasped him tightly with the reassurance he needed and reached for his other hand. You pulled him forward as you took a step backward to get him moving, and then started circling him, making him copy your movements until you fell into a messy dance. A genuine laugh escaped you, "Don't you feel it?"

Loki's smile followed yours, and if his eyes were suddenly pooling with happy tears, the rain would hide it. "I'm starting to," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours.

The grin on your lips remained as you closed your eyes and craned your neck up again, you leaned back and allowed Loki's hands to support half of your weight, with the safety that he'd hold you up.

And if he had any say in it, he'd never let go either.

After a few minutes under the rain, you told Loki you had another place you liked to escape to sometimes. Another smoked-glass doorway opened then, and it led to a clear night sky; under it was a small forest with a clearing up ahead, and a lonely bench in the middle of the low grass that had been faintly covered with bits of snow. A thousand stars danced in this sky, with no other light or cloud in sight to outshine their beauty. The lonely bench overlooked a view from up a mountain, making everything seem small and distant. Just like the roadway before, this place was also deserted.

You walked ahead, the only sound on the eery night being your boots crushing the grass and snow underneath. Loki followed, and with a flick of his wrist, his magic had the two of you dry and warm again.

You turned to him with a small, knowing smile and took a seat on the bench, "Thanks."

He simply smiled back, making himself comfortable beside you and looking up at the stars.

This place had always been your favorite, the first one you found after coming to the TVA, and the one you inevitably always came back to.

Feeling the weight of Loki's presence beside you, you weren't sure what you were doing. Only a few weeks ago you said you wanted nothing to do with him, yet here you are. You closed your eyes, pushing the thoughts away for now.

"I usually come here for the stars," you whispered into the night, your breath coming in white puffs of air.

Loki hummed, his gaze roaming over the constellations in the sky, "It is beautiful, but Midgard's skies-"

"Don't compare to Asgard's skies," you finished for him and shot a glance his way before focusing back on the sky, "yeah, I've been told."

A small chuckle escaped Loki, he nodded his head softly and looked down at his hands, his thumb scratching the skin of his other palm.

"One of the few good things about the TVA is this," you hugged your jacket closer to your body, "being able to be anywhere, anytime."

"Are you not worried about disrupting their so-called sacred timeline?" Loki asked.

You smirked, watching him from the side of your eye. "With time, you learn a few tricks on how to not create a branch right away. Such as avoiding people, not disrupting the place," you shrugged, "it gives you a few minutes at least."

Loki kept silent as he took in the new information, he looked from the starry sky to the low grass around his shoes. It would all stay the same when he left.

"It's almost as if we don't exist," you told him quietly.

Suddenly, a different flash of color caught your eyes, and your heartbeat sped up. You held onto your breath, feeling strangely giddy. "There it is," you pointed at the sky.

Loki looked at where you were pointing and his lips parted in silent wonder. It started on one side and soon flowed all around the stars above your heads; flashes of bright green, blue, and pink. Lights dancing in the sky.

A shaky sigh escaped you, "This is the other reason why I like to come here," you kept your voice low, as if the moment was a well-kept secret. The colors of the aurora were reflecting against your eyes. "It's so… enchanting."

Loki kept silent for a few beats, simply watching the show amidst the starry night. He then turned to you, taking in the way those same dancing colors shaped your profile. "It is," he breathed.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was looking at you. You could feel it. It wrapped your heart in a tight grip and blurred the sight of the colorful sky. You pursed your lips, lowering your head and curling in on yourself. "Please don't do that," your words broke in the middle.

Loki gulped the sudden lump in his throat, he felt as if he'd just ruined the moment yet he didn't know how. "I-"

"Don't look at me…" your voice got stuck. You glanced up at the sky, breathing in sharply to chase away the rogue tears. "Like that." It was nothing but a breath past your lips, you softly raised your eyebrows to accentuate the last word.

Don't look at me the way you used to when you were mine.

In the same heartbeat, Loki's gaze shifted to his shoes. An apology already lingered on his lips, but before he could say it, you spoke;

"We should go." You got up, reaching for the tempad in your pocket, "or we'll create a branch soon and this place will be crawling with minutemen." You didn't wait for his answer before walking a few steps away, needing a bit of space.

You heard as Loki followed you, but he kept his distance as he waited for you to open the doorway. You didn't like that distance.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 7 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

[yellowocaballero]

mcu peter parker vs miguel o'hara is nepotism baby vs other much weirder nepotism baby

NO JOKE JAKLDSF

Yeah, I make fun of MCU Peter, but Miguel "I got scouted early and especially picked to advance quickly through the megacorp and recieved personal attention from the VP because I'm just that great" O'Hara is a) so much worse and b) so much more annoying about it. Bright side is Miguel steals Evil Corp from his dad and then proceeds to vindictively run it into the ground. Socialist king. Peter take notes.

I don't know why Miguel didn't go IMMEDIATELY to the tabloids with the "bastard son of Evil Corp VP tried to addict his son to drugs" story, but maybe Miguel prefers direct action and takes care of his problems himself (kill his dad). Miguel's story arc involves being a member of Evil Corp and trying to save lives, becomes a cult leader and has Marx forcibly dictated to him by Thor worshippers as he tries to escape yet another guy trying to smack him with a DCMA claim, and then engages in praxis by killing capitalists and neoliberals. Great character arc over the series where becomes better and also somehow a lot worse.

Anyway, I think in a time travel situation Peter would have a conspiracy theory that Miguel is an immortal vampire who is secretly using Tony's genetics laboratory to make everybody else into vampires (Miguel has red eyes and fangs in the comics, because he was made in 1994 and he is fantastic). In 2099 Mobius is the patron saint of several small Eastern European villages and the vast majority of Finland, so Miguel takes this as a compliment. He goes by Miguel Ojeda, because he hates all three of his parents.

I have actual legitimate theories for Miguel's appearance in ITSV but I think the funniest possibility is that Miguel involves himself in inter-dimension saving, but the minute a portal opens up back to 2099 (probably 2/3ds of the way through this fake movie or comic) he walks straight through and goes back home, leaving everybody else to do all the work. This happened in the comics. Everybody extends sympathy that he lives in a dystopia. He thinks everybody else lives in an unlivable hellpit because their universes contain libertarianism. And/or smartphones, much in the same way if I stepped inside a utopia without internet I would turn around and walk right out. Somebody tries to explain democracy to him, which he also finds statistically and scientifically inefficient. They should have Doom as a "president" like in 2099. He makes the trains run on time.

#my asks #yes doom became “president” in the comics and miguel wondered if he should be worried about this #before shrugging and going home #sm99 does have a lot of kinda lame soap opera plotlines like the secret villain dad thing #in sm99 fashion it was dumb and explained a lot and opened up some interesting plotlines #it is so weird about its soap opera plotlines #theres a love triangle with his fiance and exgf #who #can't stress enough #he cheated on his ex gf with his current fiance who was his brother's gf #because he SUCKS #except the author i think was like 'wait the exgf is a way better character' #and killed her off so he got together with the exgf kinda #like. its weird comic #both better and worse in theory #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 #miguel o hara

[dspd]

Head cannon for why Loki's face shape changes so much from the first Thor to the end of season 2 of the Loki TV show when it's been canonically not that long and he's already at least a thousand years old:

Well Loki was born a boy she was more often than not a girl as a child when she was closer to and wanted to be more like Frigga. Then, as Loki grew up and was more influenced by Thor and Odin and everyone else wanting to be a warrior, Loki reluctantly started shapeshifting into a boy more often. But since he was more inclined to be like Frigga he'd be uncomfortable and subtly alter himself to a more androgenous look that's closer to how he felt. He thinned his jaw, grew long curly hair, and gave himself a muscled but svelt look.

And as much as he liked the look - and as much as he adored his brother back then - Thor, in that thoughtless cruel way that even Asgardians can have, would poke fun with painful jokes that pricked the back of his eyes and sent him crying to his mother's strong, sheltering, loving embrace more than once.

Still, Loki is still more inclined to quietly rebel against Odin and it becomes a favored form.

But then, after he sees how fruitless it was in the Sacred Timeline, when he sees how they still lost and died painfully and Odin never acknowledged them for who they were to his end, Loki just...stops caring so much about rebelling against the closest thing they'd had to a father figure.

He's so tired.

Loki keeps his male persona up in the TVA, feels the smallest bit more protected, and has that slight advantage of sexism in all its forms even in as peculiar a place as Mobius' side. It helps that Mobius seems enamored with the more masculine parts of his current form. At first, when he's still terrified for his life, he's tense, nerves screaming as Mobius places a hand so high on his shoulder, that his fingertips slip beneath the ring around his neck.

Later Loki finds himself softening, sliding between the wary "he" that he'd become before becoming a Variant and the more amorphous self he'd enjoyed as a child, learning seidr at his mother's knee. Something about the easy touches Mobius gives reminds him of his less frictious childhood. Soothing.

And when Loki meets Sylvie, a less lucky Variant who managed to stay true to her self, changing fluidly between she and they (and sometimes him) but always keeping a face that reminds him of Frigga, he feels like he can try it himself. It's more than unsettling to walk down the hallways of the TVA in a shape, any shape other than the one known as Variant L1230 and she's ready to bolt as her face rounds, her body shrinks and curves, hair lightening closer to the shadowed strawberry gold she'd preferred when female. But she's still recognized, Casey grinning and pausing to tell her that he got a pet fish and they're really cool.

Oh. Right.

TVA.

Loki somehow forgot they don't look at the surface if they look at you at all. Her temporal aura is the same, regardless of the flesh that houses it.

And if that isn't the most effervescent, bubbling affirmation she's ever had.

An indeterminate amount of time later, as time is different in the TVA, Loki ends up chasing a Kang variant who's closing in on the formula to start the interdimensional war He Who Remains...remained to prevent. Loki is panting, chasing him, dashing madly between pedestrians in the crowd, losing to the Variant and -

He's bounding forward, faster than ever on all fours, leaping up onto the parked cars, pushing off with his hind legs, claws digging in and swiping, severing the tendons in the Variant's legs.

The metallic smell of blood is bright and heavy and heady and -

Mobius is sliding between him and his prey, crowding in towards Loki's snout, one hand reaching for his wet muzzle. "Hey, buddy," Mobius murmurs, smiling that signature easy, appreciative smile, crooked nose wrinkling a little. It doesn't reach his eyes. Loki isn't sure why Mobius seems so hesitant, but he pushes his head forward anyway, accepting the touch with a slight rumble.

It feels nice.

When Mobius's hand slips off the back of Loki's skull, he nearly whines, scrabbling around to shove his head under those wonderfully scratchy nails again. When Mobius finds the best spot under his jaw, Loki melts into a loud, rumbling puddle, eyes sliding shut and head dropping into Mobius's hand.

Mobius grunts. "Damn, Loki, your head is heavier than an entire ten year old."

Loki flicks an ear and doesn't move.

As it turns out, unlike with Odin's exacting expectations in Asgard, Loki doesn't doesn't even have to be human to be accepted for who they are.

#this has been sitting in my drafts and I finally accepted that I'll never edit it #marvel's loki #loki s1 #loki s2 #loki laufeyson #loki friggasdottir #genderfluid loki #shapeshifting loki #tva #mobius m mobius #casey #is casey officially casey c casey like mobius??? #my writing #nonbinary affirming drabble #lokius #a teensey bit

[mimisempai]

I don't want to let go of your hand

Summary

Loki and Mobius continue their journey together.

During a quiet moment, Loki remembers all the times he and Mobius held hands. Of all the times he was forced to let go of that hand, and realizes that now everything has changed.

Notes

POV Loki about the past and the present

On Ao3

Rating G - 1418 words

The ocean as far as the eye could see, the refreshing breeze, the warm sand under his feet, the sound of the waves, the clear blue sky.

Everything seemed so vivid, so bright to him after spending so much time in the tree, surrounded by all those branches in the darkness.

But the brightest thing was him.

Mobius.

Sitting beside him on the sand.

Loki was no stranger to the extraordinary, not after where he came from, not after seeing realms and magic, gods and witches, but still, this moment with the most precious person in the universe was probably the most extraordinary thing he'd ever experienced.

He glanced at the man sitting next to him and smiled fondly when he saw that Mobius had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun with a small smile on his face.

His throat tightened at the thought of what he thought he'd lost forever.

The one person who understood him and accepted him for all he was. 

The first person to see beyond his fate.

His eyes slid over their hands, almost touching, side by side on the sand.

All he had to do was move his hand a few inches and he'd be holding Mobius' hand in his own. 

Holding hands.

Such an innocuous gesture for most people, but so full of meaning for them.

From the very beginning.

They had just entered an elevator with strange buttons, just as this whole place was strange. 

Loki sighed, and the man, as strange as the place, said to him in a tone that Loki found overly friendly, "I'm Agent Mobius, by the way."

Then he turned to him and held out his hand. Loki looked at the outstretched hand with no intention of taking it. He had no trust in this man who seemed to be a complete idiot. 

Instead, he looked at the agent and asked suspiciously, "Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

The man didn't even seem to mind his refusal to grasp his extended hand and replied, without losing his smile, "No. That's where you just were. I'm taking you some place to talk."

Loki replied, "I don't like to talk."

The cheeky man dared to reply, "But you like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie."

Oh, how Loki had hated the man at that moment. 

He had felt like he was dealing with an insufferable know-it-all, someone who seemed to read him, and he couldn't stand it.

He had taken refuge in sarcasm and contempt because at that moment he had no idea what this man could want from him and first of all, he was his enemy.

Loki smiled inwardly as he thought back to those moments, to that hand he'd refused. 

How wrong he'd been. 

He, who prided himself on his ability to judge people, had really been wrong.

Mobius had masterfully destroyed Loki's first opinion of him. 

Again and again.

Until this moment in the Void.

The Time Door was activated behind them and Mobius was about to leave. Loki knew it was inevitable, but he didn't want to lose him when they had just been reunited. 

"What are you going to do at the TVA?" he asked.

Mobius looked so resolute as he answered. 

"Burn it to the ground."

Then he added with that familiar smile, "Thanks for the spark."

Loki couldn't help but laugh a little, and when he looked up, Mobius had his hand outstretched and said, "Well, see you later, Loki."

Loki contemplated the outstretched hand and thought about how different things were since the last time Mobius had reached out to him like that.

"That's not how I see it."

"You could be whoever you want. Even someone good."

There was no hesitation as Loki took the outstretched hand. 

But once he had taken it, he wanted more, because they had become more, they weren't enemies anymore, they were more than colleagues, they were friends. And friends didn't just shake hands to say goodbye.

So he wrapped his arms around the agent and held him close before whispering in his ear, "Thank you, my friend."

My friend.

Mobius was so much more now.

If he only knew how much he had been the motivation behind most of Loki's actions. The force that had driven him through all of this, all of the centuries of learning, all of the time traveling.

Because he couldn't imagine losing his friends.

Because he couldn't imagine losing Mobius.

Mobius, who had helped him find the determination to do what he had to do. To save them all.

By learning of Mobius' past as a hunter and the scars it had left on the man. Loki had understood what he had to do, no matter the cost.

"She knew the hard thing to do was the thing that had to be done. And by hard, I mean impossible."

Mobius's tone was so different from the friendly, sometimes insolent tone the agent had used when speaking to Loki.

He could feel the hurt in Mobius as he continued, "No, there's no comfort. You just choose your burden."

Loki nodded, unable to keep his eyes from filling with tears as he realized what the agent's words meant to him. Loki could see the path ahead of him, and he could already feel the weight of it.

He murmured softly, "Thank you, Mobius," before standing and holding out his hand to Mobius, who stood before taking it.

Loki knew this would be the last time.

This time, it was he who had extended his hand.

Mobius had taken it without hesitation, and Loki had held it until it was nothing but dust.

"Loki, are you okay?"

Mobius' voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

He wondered why the man was asking if he was all right when he realized that, lost in his memories, he had gripped Mobius' hand quite tightly.

Loki loosened his fingers without letting go of Mobius' hand and replied a little hesitantly, still raw from the emotions this trip down memory lane had stirred up, "Yes, just a... difficult memory."

He didn't know how to explain it to Mobius, not until he told him everything, and even if he would soon, he didn't feel ready for that now.

Mobius looked at him, a slight worry on his face, and asked gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Loki shook his head and replied, "Not now."

Mobius nodded and said as gently as ever, "I suppose it's part of everything you haven't told me yet. About what made you decide to take Timely's place and do what you did."

Loki smiled fondly. 

Mobius wasn't the analyst he was at the TVA for nothing. Of course he'd connected some dots.

He replied sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I can't..."

Mobius interrupted, "Don't apologize. I know you'll talk to me when you're ready. You were the one who said so. We have time."

He stood and held out his hand to Loki, "Come on, let's take a walk and clear our heads. I've come to appreciate that since I've been here."

The gesture was harmless to Mobius at the time, but not to Loki. Not after what he'd just been thinking.

He looked at the hand for a few seconds before taking it, and Mobius helped him to his feet.

When they were both standing, Mobius loosened his fingers to let go of Loki's hand, but Loki closed his fingers over his.

He didn't want to let go of that hand.

Not this time.

Nothing forced them to now.

No imposed separation.

No burden.

Now he could walk along the beach and keep Mobius' hand in his.

Mobius stopped him and asked quietly, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Loki turned to him and, bringing their two intertwined hands to his lips, gently kissed the back of Mobius' hand before saying softly in a confident voice, "Yes, I'm sure."

Mobius checked him for a few seconds, as if to make sure Loki was telling the truth, then, seemingly reassured, they resumed their walk along the beach.

Mobius had been right, it was perfect for clearing the mind. 

But not for the same reasons, not because of the silence or the landscape or any other external element.

Loki was able to do it only because of that hand in his.

Mobius' hand that he would never have to let go of again.

Lokius' holding hands by @rins-love-wins

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Timeless Growing love : here (After season 2)

Lokius masterlist : here

#lokius fics #lokius #loki series #loki #mobius m. mobius #moki #wowki #lokius rights #lokius forever #loki x mobius #fluff #mobius m mobius #tooth rotting fluff #established relationship