low activity warning — though i'm already low in activity, this is just a head's up that i'll be starting a new job ( vomit ) and the hours are bad ( more vomit ). i'll try to be here when i can, but yes ! i'd like to at least give people some warning abt it <3

the hug solidifies everything.

and he is hungry — mobius has never been a hungry sort of creature. the tva agents aren't made like that. they don't encourage desires and wants in the null time-zone. there is only ever a goal, a job, a duty. sure, sometimes there are ... sometimes there are good conversations. intelligent ones. even delightful ones. the agents made comrades out of each other. even stripped of the timelines' usual wants, they'd huddle among each other for a semblance of companionship. mobius supposes there is only so much even he who remains could do, would do, to the people he's taken to become his soldiers.

but this... mobius closes his eyes at the warmth, at the solidity of it all. loki has always been... sturdy. a frost giant wrapped in the illusion of an asgardian through and through, the mass of him is undeniable. mobius remembers this, the little memory he has of touching loki, of holding him. they don't ... they don't make a habit of touching, loki and him. but when the god's frantic, when they're in a hurry, mobius could get away with it: a hand around his elbow, his palm over his back. it's a guilty pleasure, something he revels in quietly, privately, although thinking about it now, in this context, makes him take in all those instances with more guilt than pleasure.

had he taken advantage of loki then, he wonders ? ( was this why he went away ? )

but loki dispels the idea, rushed with the explanation. he had to go, he said. he can't let anyone die. and mobius can feel his own voice swells, wanting to fight: then how about you ? how'd you know you wouldn't die ? it wants to demand. you should've still talked to me, loki. you should've said something. we could've figured it out together. — but it's easy, far too easy, to let loki have the space to speak, because mobius knows this routine all too well. or maybe he's just selfish. with loki's voice so near, it's hard to put a stop to it. mobius has waited for so long. ...

❝ because it's not a life with you gone, dammit. ❞ because isn't that what he thought they'd have ? some sort of life together, after the timelines are freed, and loki is right there, fighting whatever that could threaten this new, re-introduced multiverse together ? wasn't that what they had silently promised to each other ? or had mobius been strung along again, always a fool ( the next comes in ravonna's voice ) to trust a loki. mobius pulls away so he could rests his glaring eyes on the god, and the scolding words come out : ❝  i didn't sign up for that, loki. i didn't sign up for you to play the self-sacrificial card with me. i thought- i thought we had something ! i thought you trusted me.  ❞

   “i should count on that,” came loki’s easy response as a smile spread on his features.   something trembled inside his chest, in his spine, inside his very veins as his eyes grow glassy at the sight of mobius.   the very real sight, the very real feeling of mobius standing and breathing and holding him.   loki never believed it possible but he was, once, craving the closure, the warmth, the touch—mobius’s touch.   loki reckoned he had forgotten it where he sat, cold and desolate and forever watching but always craving.   and so, despite mobius’s reluctance, loki’s arms wrapped around the man, squeezing him close to his chest.

  his fingers found a familiar place to clutch onto mobius’s clothes as loki rested his chin over his shoulder, lungs trembling with an exhale.   it was like a miracle manifesting right inside his arms.   there he was, mobius, after all this time.   inside his embrace.   “how i’ve missed you, mobius.” he murmured, quiet.   the shape of reality seemed to slip away as loki closed his eyes.   he felt no gravity pulling them down, no oxygen drifting around them.   just mobius and he, existing independently of anything else.

  “i had to,” he squeezed.   “i had to go.   i could not let any of you die.” again, and again, and again.   he’d not.   between the branches and the citadel, loki’d rather condemn himself.   that had been his choice, as he simply had exhausted every other possibility of keeping this dear face alive.   whether mobius cried and begged and waited—at least, he was alive.

  “i know.   i saw—i watched you.” for quite a while.   for years, by mobius’s reckoning.   for loki… well, it felt like a void.   like a dream, really.   after a while he had lost all sensation across his being.   all he could feel was the throb of life around him and nothing more but now?   now he could feel the tingling of his eyes whenever he forgot to close them.   he felt the need to breathe and the need to walk, he could feel the fabric on his skin and the hair tickling the nape of his neck.   though above all.   he could feel him.   mobius.   the one person he could truly not let go of, as hard as he had tried.   “you deserved this chance, mobius.   i wanted to give it to you, why must you waste it?” 

LOKI 2x01 Ouroboros / 2x06 Glorious Purpose



The love will stay even if you don’t

and loki keeps the branches from falling to complete ruin, the god says. and, well — ❝ that's what they tell me. ❞ is all mobius could have as an answer, shrugging a shoulder. a play at nonchalance, though he is anything but.

he thinks he should be more proud, should be bursting with pride. maybe he is. maybe underneath all that desperation, there is nothing but an admiration of the potential he'd always known loki could achieve. but before that, there is only sea-wide grief, mingling with continents of guilt. mobius feels it all, like he's been injected with lead; he's heavy with poison.

he wants loki back. he just- he's selfish. he just wants to know if loki's okay.

but thor—

❝ you think i'm searching for him because i want revenge ? ❞ disbelief echoes inside his voice, laced with the rage he couldn't express with loki gone. everyone's treating it like it's a good thing, the fact loki saved them all. but who's checking on loki ? who's making sure loki is saved ?

the thought burns.

❝ no. i want— ❞ but he can't say what he wants, can he. it's a foolish thing to do, loving a god. mobius knows all the myths to that story, knows all the greek — or norse, in this case — tragedy, and yet. ❝ he was a friend. he is. and i can't— i can't leave him like that all alone. now will you help me by giving me some damn clue, or do i have to ask your next variant for it ? ❞

What is it that Loki’s taken from this one to peel him to the bone so thoroughly he’s willing to pay with blood for its return. For blood will be had. By this path or any like it.

Thor spins a lesson he’d be wise to hear before he does, thinking of Mother’s sense.

’ And Loki, ‘ whichever one. Bleeding cold in his arms, chasing Frost Giants, undead by all accounts, then, anywhere but here, ’ keeps the branches from falling to complete ruin. ‘ You would risk this.

— by choice. Now they’re in agreement: not the brother he knows.

Would that be the sacrifice. Sitting still? That Thor could pluck a string and have them both back, have all of them back, if.

He’s met his fair share of self-fancied ‘Last Guys Standing’. Not much of them was left to stand when he was done. He’s short on challenge, these days.

’ Revenge will kill you sooner than you him. ‘

your loki, the voice calls to him. every figment of his wildest dream coming true, that's right.

apart of mobius is still fighting. it wrestles with self-doubt. it remembers, the wide-eyed expression he wears when he waited and waited by that control room, by that observational deck. he was there when he watched the darkened timelines shift : brimming with a power that sylvie had muttered felt familiar, while it wound and grew and splintered and grew root. OB had been transfixed, so had casey, and verity, and even timely at the sight. they watched in silent at the beauty of it all, unfolding like cards; mobius watched only for the god that it swallowed. and remembers having kept asking : what happened ? where's loki ?

( and he remembers what happened after that, too. sylvie looking at him with a look of sadness and relief and understanding. an acceptance mobius did not understand why she wore so easily quickly. he's not coming back, mobius. and denial climbed up his throat like a poison that couldn't be digested, desperate to get out. of course he's coming back, he had replied to her then, stubborn and determined and heartfelt. he was a balloon belief, blood full of faith. loki'll come back. because that's what he does. he will get away, he will come back. )

yet. yet. the fight feels like it's a loss anyway, especially when the cold of loki's finger touches his pulse, it drags with it every breath he former analyst shudders out. and mobius thinks : can he make temperature up ? he can't, can he. so this must be real. it has to be ... right ?

❝ now you're just makin' it hard for me to stay mad at you, ❞ he chuckles out, wet — and he wants to. god, does he want to. anger feels like a justified shield now; feels like a ground he could get a hold of, could stand straight upon. but, all the same, at that damn voice, ( so familiar, so similar. it has to be real, right ? please let it be real. ) mobius feels every foundation for rage crumbles. all he wants is to soothe loki's worries, to kiss any sorrow away. did you eat ? did you get any rest ? wherever you went, was it safe ? did it cradle you to sleep at night, did you find peace at the centre of it ?

❝ why'd you do it, huh ? ❞ he asks instead, voice falling into a whisper that's blanketed with heartache. mobius finds distance between them, though he refuses to let go of loki's face. if this were real, something inside him interjects, though it has to be. it feels too- this is solid. this can't be an illusion. loki feels cold in his palms, which is a good sign; he feels whole. ❝ why'd you go— why'd you have to leave, loki ? why like that ? i waited. i waited for you. ❞

   loki painfully wishes that he could return back to a better, a kinder time.   when the two of them would sit opposite of each other, talking or eating.   their feet would brush together, they wouldn’t look away from each other and the spark in mobius’s eyes would make loki’s spine tremble with a foreign need.   that’s where he’d like to be just about now.   sitting on a table—or a desk—opposite of mobius.   instead he’s here, desperately trying to mend together mobius’s mind give him the will to believe, the will to allow him in once more.

  loki knows he can go back.   but he doesn’t want to live in the past.   he wants to live in the now and he wants it to be by mobius’s side.   please, he begs inside his head.   let me in.   and mobius, as though able to read his thoughts, does.   loki heaves, eyes blinked shut when his head drops, leaning into the man’s hold.   loki turns his head, just a little, for his lips to press against mobius’s palm.   “so i figure,” he smiles, chuckles.   it’s a wet sound, railing with an anxious tremble as he brings up his own hand to plaster over mobius’s right one, holding it pressed flush against his cold skin.   he aches for this warmth, lulling him to a more peaceful state of mind.   whole.   it doesn’t matter whether mobius means his insult or not.   loki knows he means no malice with it.   after all, in the end, he turns it around, rewrites it into affection and loki can’t help the smile that spreads onto his thin face, a chuckle erupting from his chest.   “your loki,” he echoes, as he steps closer.   he has crossed the door;    now, he can rest his forehead against mobius’s.   “that’s right.”

his hand lowers to mobius’s wrist where he gently thumbs there, eager to feel that dull pulse beneath his skin.   something warm swells inside his belly, rising into his lungs, his throat.   as he breathes, though, a sick tremble ripples through his muscles—it’s an effort not to let his voice tremble.   “forgive me, mobius.   i’m sorry.”

The greatest singer in the world.

Loki’s song in episode 3

(Norwegian lyrics + English translation)

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem I eplehagen står møyen den vene og synger “når kommer du hjem?”

Men trærne danser og fossene stanser når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem” When she sings, she sings “come home”

-

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone Over the glacier I make my way In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings, “When will you come home?”

But the trees dance and the waterfalls stop when she sings, she sings “Come home” When she sings, she sings “Come home”

great. he's willing to listen. that's all he wants—

( that isn't all he wants. what he wants, he- he can't speak of it. not anymore. it used to be so simple: a jetski. one afternoon on the water. he doesn't know since when that image has intermingled with loki in the peripheral, but the god's there now. always. except he isn't. that's the curse. that's always the curse. )

when mobius breathes, it's shrapnel. it hurts everything on the way in.

❝ the multiverse doesn't always exist the way we know it. ❞ mobius starts, because he figures that's a good place to start as any. ❝ it used to be a singular universe — one, because there was this guy — he who remains, last man standing — that dictated so. he... he kidnapped a bunch of people, erase their memories, and created an organisation. an organisation which guards that specific timeline. ❞

is thor following so far ? god, he hopes so.

❝ any branches ? any variances ? they cut it. your- the loki i knew ... he was from one of those branches that was cut. that couldn't make it. long story short, he- i guess he and another variant of his managed to kill the last guy standing, but when they did, we had... we had a problem with maintaining the branching timelines. the machine that created the singular one couldn't take it. ❞

a pause; a breath.

❝ so loki... sacrificed themself. ❞ as loki does, and that hurts. because nothing's changed. there's free will, and loki never strays from his doomed narrative. mobius feels like that's on him, for not noticing sooner. for not stopping it. ❝ he used his magic to- to- i guess, to make sure all the timelines could exist without any machine. that the multiverse could exist. but he's out there, alone, cut off, and i- i need to get to him. ❞

but i don't know how, is what he doesn't say, though he's sure his desperation is clear. it mars his face; it sits awkwardly, uglily, with his grief. and you might have the answer. do you get it now ? do you understand why i'm frantic, full of pleas ?

It’s then that he looks.

He has half a mind to pry at this illusion with his bare hands. It would be like Loki to come in dressed as a commoner to awe at a shrine of himself. To pain Thor before he’d offer relief-----

-----from inside Thor’s chokehold.

’ Quite enough of its dangers. ‘

Long after Father’s conquests turned legend and dream food for princes, the multiversal was to be left alone if one wasn’t terribly fond of ruin. If one weren’t balancing interrealm peace on the tip of a moving blade like Thor is.

The old tenderness returns. He knows he should not.

He knows always will.

’ ... Speak. ‘

it feels like he's swallowed needles, the truth that lodges in his throat. does he even have time to explain ? maybe that's all he has left, loki's absence and whatever duty he's claimed translated into these endless pool of time, endless pool of lives.

but how could thor have known of that ? his loki is dead. he had cradled his version of loki in his arms; he had mourned that death.

mobius hasn't mourned his. he's still fighting — he has to.

( and loki isn't dead. he's just- gone. )

❝ this isn't the same brother you know. ❞ is all mobius chooses to reply with. the mural of loki feels like it's burning right into mobius : like the statue knows, like it's judging, or like it's accepting. accepting of this martyrdom when mobius couldn't; like he'll fight gods themselves, all of them, if it means he could deny loki his doomed fate.

why is everyone so accepting of it ? why is no one angry ?

❝ — how much do you know about the multiverse ? ❞

@mobiues: "i need your help. to- to bring your brother back."

To speak of a need for Loki. Who has one more profound than Thor?

’ My brother—- ‘

whose likeness is mocked up in multitudes all around, images still and moving, youth to grown, Æsirlike in all of them but for being half Laufey’s size in some. His crimes are on display. His favoured furs. He in stone, shoulder to shoulder with a carving of Thor himself.

None of these museal depictions come from Thor’s memory, only others’. What is his remains so.

Loki looms above them, pompous and horned in his mural.

’ —-is long dead, nomad. ‘

They are his only guests.

there is a memory there—it's fractured, it's unreliable ( he's got his memories hijacked, you know. sometimes mobius wonders exactly how long he's been alive, just to put a number on it, but things are too scattered, and there's a lot of loopholes, and he forgets, he doesn't remember, and then, after a while, it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter because why would it ? it's just numbers. it's not like he can go back. don isn't who he is anymore, and kevin and sean seem like good kids, but they aren't his anymore. )—but for a moment, it's like mobius could almost remember it.

a frantic looking person. wild hair. dishevelled clothing. the tva doesn't have a past but somehow even loki could unlock that. ( and of course he would. he was never meant to just be the king of earth. he's so much more, he always has been. mobius just wishes it doesn't have to mean that he has to remove himself from everything; that he has to be the one to walk the line, to be at the end of it, alone. ) and a plea, a voice: mobius, it's me. and he could almost hear it right back, his own response—

i don't know you.

is it real ? or is it fabricated ? another thing his mind has sewn onto him, plagued him with, ever since he makes a home here, in the timeline. ( it is always that last moment. hey, he remembers calling loki, but the god moves on. he barely looks back. he goes down the stairs. he shuts the door. and then he does. he finally looks back, and it isn't a goodbye or anything. it's a promise. and it's a damning promise, and mobius should've known. he should've known. he's the loki expert. a trickster, a liar, an escapist — a martyr. always the goddamn martyr. they should've called him loki the selfless. but it's him, mobius. he should've tried harder. he should've known. he saw the signs, and he didn't— )

it's me, he says. your loki.

and finally, like a breath, like a scolding, ( are you really gonna say you don't know him again ? ) mobius reaches out onto that trembling faith, onto that painful hope. my loki, he thinks, as he brings his hands upwards and he- he holds loki. he holds loki like he told everyone in the group therapy, to frigga, that he would, if he had the chance: gently, achingly. he reaches and touches the sharpness of the cheeks there, the slope of those bones. loki have always had long eyelashes, beautiful. and the file could never get the colour of his eyes right. blue, green, red. in this shadow though, it's the colour of the top of the lake: something that holds things deep, and it has been holding them for a long time.

❝ ... you're an asshole, did you know that ? ❞ he isn't, not really, but mobius can't help it. still, he pulls until their foreheads touch, loki's colder ones against his own. when the former analyst inhales, it's a shuddering action. fragile. ❝ my asshole, though. my loki. ❞

and he doesn't dare ask : are you really here ? are you real ? in the off chance that it's all in his head. let him have this, he begs to the universe. let him have loki again, even if it's only for a second. even if it's only a figment of his imagination.

   for the first time in what feels like centuries and nothing at the same time, loki feels a sharp twist inside his chest when he notices mobius’s eyes growing glassy.   his mouth dries, his face caves into a frown when he reaches up, gentle, in wiping any tears that spill.   “it’s me,” loki’s words crumble into his exhale.   his throat thickens, unwilling to allow breath to enter his lungs unrestrained.   loki knows mobius hasn’t forgotten him.   he can see it inside his eyes.   it isn’t recognition loki begs for, no, it’s belief.   he immediately concludes this, somehow, is far worse.   mobius knows him.   recognises him.   yet refuses to believe him.   loki feels transparent.   as though he’s trying to reason with someone who cannot, will not listen.   how do you persuade a wall to grow ears?

“i know.   i did and i’m sorry but mobius—” both of his hands trail lower, grasp onto mobius’s wrists, his palms and squeezing, shaking them.   “please.   you know who i am.   you aren’t dreaming.   you are not being tricked.   this isn’t an illusion, it’s me.” loki swallows down.   his heart trembles inside his chest.   he finds that he prefers this heartache to never-ending nothingness.   he’d rather stay here, convincing mobius over and over, begging for a sliver of his faith which he has now lost, over watching him wandering weightlessly into a mental grave.

  oh… he’s being selfish again, isn’t he?   by the heavens.

  he has made a mistake.   he should have swallowed it all down, he should have stomached it.   perhaps all mobius needed was more time.   perhaps he would have found himself again without loki’s help.   now he has destroyed every ounce of progress, hasn’t he?   tore it apart beneath his shoe.   too late now.   too late.   “your loki.” 

nikita gill, a question that bleeds // noah kahan, stick season / simone de beauvoir, letters to sartre // ocean vuong, on earth we're briefly gorgeous // la la land // clementine von radics, in a dream you saw a way to survive // unattributed

❝ it's quiet, where i am. ❞ it feels like it shouldn't be. like there's a conversation in the air he's always waiting to happen, but it never comes. it won't ever come. it's hard sitting with that; mobius feels like he doesn't want to.

❝ i wonder if they would've liked it. ❞

references to the finale | open

thinking again about how devastating, how miserable, how empty mobius is with his grief over losing loki. the way he walks slow, alone, through parks and gardens. the way he tries filling his time with books but it's so, so vacant. when he smiles, it never last long anymore.

Mobius + being the only one to notice

everything's happening so fast. ( everything's happening too slow. ) it's like mobius can't keep up, which feels crazy admitting that in any capacity, given the fact he's worked with time before. time ... doesn't really pass by him like others. it's just there. it's the past, and the present, and it's the future. or it was, at one point. he figures it's even confusing now, considering that there are multiverses taken into account. his point is, nothing should be too fast for him ( or too slow. it's years. it's been years, can this really — ), because the tva's got a machine to tackle those sort of things. it's how they've captured titans and sorcerers and even the smallest and quickest form of creatures before. nothing is beyond time, and yet—

mobius feels his heart pounds. it's louder now than it's been. sylvie—loki—is too animated. too ... there is that arrogance to him that mobius recognises, that sylvie doesn't have. no, sylvie's arrogance is... is in her skills, in what she's done. that's always been her point of pride: that she had a revenge plan, and she was the one who executed it until the end. this... there is an elegance here too that's achingly familiar. arrogant and elegance, the perfect form of a regal prince, who once walked the golden halls of asgards; who knew all the glitz and glam of what it's like to be apart of long-reigned royalty. when mobius blinks next, his vision stings with tears. his heart caves just as the words, mobius, i assure you, she’s enjoying herself far from here, lands in his ears.

the call of his name is the worst. it's so familiar. god, it's so—

❝ who are you ? ❞ he whispers, though his own voice sounds foreign to him : broken and crumpled over. like a glass that's been shattered and someone's trying their best to stitch it all up regardless. but how can they ? they're shattered. some of them have turned to sand. ❝ if you're not sylvie ... ❞ he looks down to where this- this loki- is touching him, and it's searing. mobius' heart aches. all those times he'd held onto loki, all those moments— it's too late now. he should've known it then; should've been quicker with it. should've kept loki away from the doors—

❝ my... my loki's gone ... ❞ mobius admits it now, pushing the words out even though those are shards of glasses too. it pierces everything inside of him. all those denial, and yet, at the face of it : ❝ he- he went somewhere i can't follow. ❞

   loki heaves through his nose, head tilting to the side as though in disapproval.   “oh, come on,” he points to himself with both hands, brows drawn together.   “you believe this is the form she’d presume?   sylvie?” loki cannot make it a picture inside his head.   he can’t imagine his reflection in… that hair or those clothes.   no.   he’s certain sylvie would maintain that… punkish essence.   and that dreadful bleach.   no matter.   this isn’t the time for pettiness.   excuse him, he has not interacted with a person in a while—he has grown rusty.   it requires an effort to match the tone of a situation.   he has spent so long watching, nurturing, that he has forgotten living.   what it’s like to be present with another person, to talk and argue and reconcile.   it’s coming back to him, the longer he stands by mobius, as he gently sighs, eases his hands back to his sides and raises his brows in sympathy.

  “sylvie may be cruel but she’s not vile.   she’d not spent energy on such brutish tricks, mobius, i assure you, she’s enjoying herself far from here.” she was still on earth, the last time loki had looked at the multiverse before standing from his seat.   as well as countless other lokis.   some scouted the universes, others died, others uncovered forgotten artifacts.   it felt both bitter and relieving to watch.   still… once again—loki could not help though feel robbed.   of something—he did not regret it, no, he did not.   he knew what he wanted.   he wanted all of them to live.   he wanted to preserve their own defense against the conquerors.   that does not mean a god does not long to experience his creation.   that did not mean loki didn’t long, still, for a smile to spread on mobius’s face like it used to.

  “mobius,” loki presses—nay, pleads for the man to raise his eyes, meet loki’s gaze who nigh fearfully reaches for mobius’s forearms to squeeze.   “i understand, this is difficult for you—” there will never be a right way.   there will never be a proper plan for loki to concoct that would make this easier for mobius to handle, to swallow, to wrap his mind around.   no matter his approach, loki knew it’d hurt.   but perhaps it’d hurt less than his absence.   “but i am here.   i am right here.   i thought—...   i believed you’d be happy to see me again.” loki swallows down the lump in his throat, a sick aching pulsing behind his forehead.   no.   no.   all this for nothing?   “would you prefer i left?”

he can't wrap his mind around it, just can't. what does it mean ? what does it mean that loki- loki worked- what does it mean ? he went there and what ? he made it possible for multiverse to exist ? mobius doesn't get it. then why couldn't he come back ? he has to come back. he has to.

❝ destroy ... ? no. there has to be some other way. ❞ again, he's insistent. he can't help it. mobius feels like he's outta' the loop. like there's some crucial information here he's missing out on, that he should've seen coming. ❝ so what ? we're gonna leave 'em out there ?! alone ?! you really think i'm gonna do that ? ❞

           " i mean - " and for just a moment she has to pause, because sylvie's voice is threatening to crack and she's afraid to cry right now. things are too raw; vulnerable.

                 " i mean loki's made a choice, and it's the only one they could make. even if i went to them right now, the only way i could bring them back means . . . that i destroy everything loki worked so hard for. i'm sorry. loki's gone. "