#loki fix it fanfic

[bebx]

"undoing this character's death would take away his sacrifice and character arc" girl I don't give a shit. I'm bringing him back through the power of ao3 fix-it fics and there's nothing you can do to stop me x

[morally-grey-variant]

sitting on his lap would probably fix me

[vilyanenyavilya]

Now kiss

“You messed with time. It tends to mess back. You’ll see.”

An accident during The Time Heist sends Tony Stark tumbling through time and space. Tony emerges on a different planet, over a century before where he should be, with no way home. He works to get back to his family the Avengers. While he’s at it, he’ll fix this new timeline too…but more and more time passes and he’s still stranded and he has to make a new life under a new name. A new life that includes Loki in a starring role.

Loki was studying the magical arts on Alfheim with his mother’s sister, when a mortal shows up and turns everything upside down. He comes with ill tidings of the future and a determination to change it, and Loki can’t help himself but believe and help him. This mortal is a fascinating puzzle, and Loki itches to put it together. It has -nothing- to do with how drawn he is to the mortal himself.

Neither one knows just how or why their stories are entwined by forces unknown.

@frostironflashbingo

[kcscribbler]

Chapter: 4/4 Relationships: Loki & Mobius M. Mobius Characters: Loki (Marvel), Mobius M. Mobius Additional Tags: Gen or Pre-Slash, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Canon, Friendship/Love, Hopeful Ending, Angst and Feels, Mobius M. Mobius Needs a Hug Series: Part 9 of The Storyteller Saga, NOW COMPLETE

Summary:

In which the war is over, and the rest begins. 

[itskirstiswani]

I need some Lokius fan fic recommendations

[tallseaweed]

Relinquish Your Burden: Chapter 6

"The Sun Will Shine On Us Again"

Word Count: 3.9k

Relinquish Your Burden - Chapter 6 - tallseaweed - Loki (TV 2021) [Archive of Our Own]

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

"Let's go faster this time."

"My Variants are already out there."

"Nothing survives, Loki. Not even the Sacred Timeline."

"You cause a war that kills us all."

"What good is free will if everyone's dead?"

"You're replacing one nightmare with another."

"I know what kind of god I need to be."

"You do know yourself."

"A villain."

Loki awoke with a gasp, his limbs tangled in sweaty sheets. A soft light was filtering in through a small leaded window on the far wall. Where was he? He needed to get back, the timelines needed him—

The scent of a familiar cologne surrounded him, soothing his panic.

Mobius.

It all came rushing back.

Sylvie.

Thor.

The Watcher.

Mobius's eyes and the dancing lights…

Loki rolled over, finding the other side of the bed vacant. Muffled voices were coming from the other side of the door.

He pulled himself from bed, bare feet padding toward the window. Outside, a grey spaceship with purple and turquoise stripes sat in the snow. The low-hanging clouds made it difficult to tell, but it must have been close to midday.

Mobius's laugh carried over the hum of voices in the other room, and Loki couldn’t help but smile to himself. Raking his fingers through his sleep-disheveled hair, he went to open the door.

The scene that greeted him made Loki do a double take. Thor was frying up some sort of egg dish on the stove while Love chatted with him from a barstool. Sylvie was on her tiptoes rummaging through one of the cabinets, and Mobius was chopping something on a cutting board. It all looked so ordinary, but the circumstances that had brought them all together were anything but. Loki felt as if his two worlds were colliding.

Across the room, Mobius's eyes met his own. Immediately, he set down his knife and smiled. "Mornin' sunshine."

Thor and Love's conversation tapered off, and everyone turned to face Loki. He gave a halfhearted wave as Mobius made his way toward him.

He and Mobius had fallen asleep in the clothes they'd been wearing the night before, but the latter was now clad in a brown knit jumper and denim trousers. If the luggage in the corner was any indication, he'd used Sylvie's TemPad to go retrieve some essentials.

"How'd ya sleep," Mobius asked, leaning up to give Loki a brief kiss on the cheek.

"As good as can be expected," Loki sighed, running his hand down the side of Mobius's arm. He could feel a blush creeping up his ears from the weight of everyone's attention.

"You owe me 5 units Aunt Sylvie," the young girl's cheery voice piped up.

Mobius rolled his eyes and took Loki's hand, leading him toward the table. "Do you want some lunch? 'Fraid we both slept through breakfast."

Loki caught Thor's eye from across the kitchen island. His brother looked surprised by the exchanges of affection but recovered himself quickly. He shot Loki a warm smile. "I've made a Midgardian dish called an omelette, Brother. Would you like to try?"

"Sure. Smells lovely."

~

Loki hadn't realized how hungry he was until he put the first bite in his mouth. When was the last time he'd had a proper meal? He honestly couldn't remember. Three generous servings later, Loki began collecting everyone's dishes and bringing them to the sink. He was stopped by Thor's hand on his shoulder.

"Would you come for a walk with me, Loki?"

Loki turned to face him, meeting Thor's earnest gaze. "Alright," he replied, though his palms began to sweat. The last time Loki had truly conversed with Thor, he'd been attempting to rule Midgard and secure the Tesseract for Thanos. Safe to say, they hadn't exactly left on good terms. Making matters even more complex was the fact that this Variant of Thor had watched him die. Had clung to his body after the Mad Titan snapped his neck. Truthfully, Loki had no idea what to expect from the interaction.

As they made their way to the door, he conjured himself a Midgardian outfit, similar to what the rest of them were wearing. When they stepped outside, Loki was clad in a forest green turtleneck and dark denim trousers. He was glad he'd included thick black boots when Thor led them off the main path and into the snow.

They walked in silence for a minute or so, the cold wind biting at their exposed skin. Thor was dressed much warmer, but made no comment on Loki's choice to forgo a coat. Even before they'd learned his true heritage, the two of them had discovered that Loki could withstand the cold much better than Thor.

"So… you and Mobius…" Thor smiled suggestively.

"Yes," Loki huffed a laugh. "I'll have you know it's a very recent development, but…" The corners of his lips twitched, and he found himself unable to fight the ensuing grin. "Would you believe me if I told you I wanted to kill him when we first met?"

Thor let out a booming laugh. Until that exact moment, Loki hadn't realized just how much he'd missed that sound. "Actually Brother, I can. You've never exactly been quick to open up."

Loki clicked his tongue but conceded the point. Prior to meeting Mobius and Sylvie, he had been slow to warm up to people. Taking Thor's lead of stating the obvious, he said, "Your daughter is a force to be reckoned with."

Thor smiled fondly. "That she is. Do you know how I came to adopt her?"

"More or less."

"Then you'll likely already know that she was Gorr's daughter first. He was a mortal, but when Love emerged from the Altar of Eternity, she had the powers and vitality of a goddess." He paused. "Selfishly, I'm quite glad for that. Until yesterday, she was the only family I had left. If I were to lose her so soon—"

Loki was a bit taken aback by the display of vulnerability. He supposed he shouldn't be after their emotional reunion the night before, but still, he wasn't quite accustomed to it. Open communication had never been their family’s forte.

"I think Mother would have liked her," Loki said quietly.

"I'm sure she would have," Thor agreed.

A beat of silence passed. "When I first learned she'd died, I—" Loki broke off, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed. "I'm not envious of you for having to go through that."

Thor let out a deep sigh. "Be grateful you didn't. Though I can imagine the way you found out was horrible in its own way."

"You're not wrong there," Loki murmured quietly. He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "If it's any consolation, I've seen countless timelines where Mother is alive and well. Jane too, for that matter."

Thor drew in a deep breath, simultaneously swiping a stray tear from his cheek. "Good. I'm glad.”

They began trudging up a small hill when Thor broke the heavy silence. "Mobius and Sylvie told me how they came to know you, but I'm curious. What is it like? This TVA?"

Loki thought for a moment. What a complicated question . "It's— horribly bureaucratic and stifling. And honestly, a bit terrifying at first. They use Infinity Stones as paperweights."

Thor halted in his tracks. When Loki turned around, his brother looked aghast. "By the Norns, I— I knew that place was powerful, but I did not imagine…" he breathed.

Loki nodded grimly, standing still while Thor took a moment to process. "They kidnapped me from my timeline right after New York because I managed to escape with the Tesseract. That particular act took me off of the Sacred Timeline, my predestined path . When I managed to regain possession of the Tesseract at the TVA, it wouldn't work. All of the Stones they keep there are rendered completely useless." Thor's expression was somewhere between horror and sympathy. Loki wasn't sure he could stand it. "At first, I wanted to burn the whole place to the ground." Thor chuckled. Good. "Sylvie did too. She might still want to, honestly."

They began walking again before Thor asked, "Was it strange, finding out there are countless different versions of you out there?"

Loki cringed. "You have no idea."

They had arrived at a large rock near the cliffside, overlooking the sea. Thor frowned at the snow blanketing its surface. Loki shook his head with a small smile and cleared the snow off with magic. Thor flashed him a grin. "I had forgotten how useful you are to have around, Brother."

Loki rolled his eyes and gave Thor an exasperated smile. "Glad I can be of service, Your Highness."

Thor laughed as they sat down. After a moment of taking in the view, Loki continued. "I suppose I grew somewhat partial to the TVA once I learned that all its workers were brainwashed Variants. It's not like they'd asked to be kidnapped from their timelines. And, well, by that point, I was becoming rather fond of Mobius."

Thor smirked at him and Loki narrowed his eyes. The desired effect was lessened by the involuntary smile pulling at his lips. He broke their eye contact and sighed, looking back out over the water.

"In time, I started viewing a handful of them as my friends. If we're being honest, I—" Loki hesitated, glancing over at Thor. "I never really had true friends, back on Asgard."

Thor looked like he wanted to protest, but seemed to think better of it. Loki was pleasantly surprised. He almost hadn't said anything, but decided he was curious as to what Thor's reaction would be. If he were being honest with himself, he was waiting for Thor to jump to the defense of the Warriors Three and Sif as he'd always done.

After a weighty pause, Thor murmured, "I'm sorry that I never noticed."

Of all the things Loki had thought his brother might say, the last thing he'd expected was an apology. Completely taken aback, Loki swallowed the lump in his throat, dipping his head into a shallow nod.

Suddenly, the sun broke through the clouds, and Loki couldn't help but tip his face toward it. It had been so long since he felt the warm caress of sunlight, let alone took the time to enjoy it. He glanced over at Thor, squinting against the brightness, and was alarmed to find tears streaming down his brother's face.

"Are you alright?" Loki asked gently, turning to face him.

"Yes, I'm sorry, it's just—" Thor took a shuddering breath. "Before you died, you assured me that the sun would shine on us again." Thor chuckled wetly, shaking his head. "I assumed it was one of your rare moments of misplaced optimism, but, well… here we are."

Loki couldn't help the surge of remorse he felt for the man beside him. This Thor had lost his brother, and Loki was just sitting here, acting as if he could fill the chasm his Variant had left behind. "Thor… I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Brother," Thor said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "We're finally together again."

Loki's heart constricted painfully. After a moment, he said, "Do you truly still claim me as your brother, knowing I'm not the Loki you lost? After all the destruction I wrought on Midgard? On Jotunheim?"

Thor turned toward him, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "Of course I do, Loki. You will always be my brother. Nothing could ever change that." He glanced back toward the horizon, the smile slipping from his face. "After facing Thanos myself and witnessing your terror when you recognized his ship…" He trailed off, a dormant rage flitting over his features. "I can only imagine the horrors you went through under his command." Loki closed his eyes, resisting the memories threatening to resurface. Thor went on. "Thanos was after the Tesseract and sent you to Earth as his pawn. I no longer blame you for what happened in New York, I— I blame myself for letting you fall into that monster's clutches."

Loki's heart twisted painfully. "The events preceding that were hardly your fault."

Thor turned back to him. "Was I not the one that instigated war with Jotunheim? Got myself banished from Asgard? If I had been there for you—" his voice broke with emotion, "perhaps you would not have let go."

"Thor…" Loki sighed, "that decision had nothing to do with you. It was impulsive and brash, and no one's fault but my own, but—" He drew in a breath. "I was irrevocably upset with Father. At the time, I believed he saw me as no more than a political pawn."

Thor made to argue, but Loki held up a hand. "It was not my most sensible conclusion, but none of it was your fault. Hel, I was even the one that goaded you into attacking Jotunheim in the first place."

"You warned me against it—"

"I knew you wouldn't listen. I never planned for us to get past the Bifrost— but I was playing with fire. With all that happened afterward, that scheme was undoubtedly one of the worst decisions I've ever made." He snorted derisively. "Though I suppose if I hadn't made it, I would have ended up at the TVA all the sooner."

Thor was silent for a moment, processing. "The circumstances of how it all happened may have been awful," he began slowly, "but not everything your scheme led to was all bad. I gained humility on Earth, and Father and Mother finally got around to revealing the truth of your heritage."

Loki made a face. "If you call Father finding me panicked and turning blue in the weapons vault 'revealing the truth,' then yes, I suppose he did. Midway through that conversation, he ever so conveniently fell into the Odinsleep."

Thor grimaced in sympathy. "I cannot imagine."

"No, I suppose you can't," Loki sighed.

They were silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. "Before you died, before Thanos—" Thor took a steadying breath. "In your final words to me, you reclaimed yourself as an Odinson. I know you're not the man I lost, but even with less shared history between us, nothing changes the fact that you're my little brother." Loki met Thor's gaze, shining with emotion. "And that I'll always love you."

Suddenly, it was all too much. Loki couldn't control the tears flowing down his face as he braced his elbows on his knees. Thor's warm, steady hand rubbed comforting circles against his back.

It was a while before his shoulders stopped shaking.

"You know, I'm actually your older brother now," Loki said after a while, attempting to sound lighthearted. Thor raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I spent centuries attempting to fix the Temporal Loom before I learned it was a useless endeavor. It took me longer than I care to admit to realize I had to hold the timelines together for the Multiverse to survive. It was all quite poetic, really; Eternal servitude to repent for my sins. Or so I thought. But, uh— I've got at least two or three centuries on you now."

Thor just watched him solemnly, his piercing blue eyes missing nothing. "You don't need to sacrifice yourself to be a hero, Loki."

Loki looked away, willing the tears not to fall again. He took a shaking breath . Since when had Thor become so perceptive?

"I've had to mourn you more times and more often than any other. No sacrifice is worth losing you again I—" Thor's voice dropped to a rough whisper. "I don't think I could bear it."

Before Loki even realized what he was doing, he was pulling Thor into a hug. Immediately, Thor squeezed him back, firmly gripping the back of his neck. "I missed you so much," Loki whispered through his tears.

"You'll stay?" Thor murmured into his hair.

"As long as you'll have me, Brother."

---

Left to their own devices to clean up what remained of lunch, Mobius and Sylvie settled into a comfortable rhythm. Clad in yellow rubber gloves, Sylvie carefully hand washed each dish before handing them off to Mobius to towel dry.

"I— I know this might seem out of the blue," Mobius began, "but, I'm really sorry for all those millennia I spent hunting you down." Sylvie turned to look at him, and he quickly clarified. "I don't expect you to ever forgive me—hell, I probably wouldn't—but I just… wanted you to know. You deserve to be happy, and— and you and Loki made the right call in freeing the timelines." He sighed heavily. "Even with all that happened afterward."

Sylvie set down the dish she'd been lathering and turned off the sink. "Thank you, Mobius, I appreciate it." She turned to face him. "You're a good man, you know that?"

Mobius looked down, shuffling his feet. "I'm not sure I'd go that far…"

"Well I'm not going to waste time arguing with you about it, but like I said yesterday, I'm sorry for keeping Loki's location from you." She looked out the window, lost in thought. "I was so caught up in finally having true freedom—so grateful for Loki's sacrifice, that it took me a while to see the bigger picture."

"We're all just doing the best we can to get by," Mobius said gently. They stood there in comfortable silence for a moment before Sylvie went back to washing the dishes.

"Ya know, in light of recent events, I might have to demote you to ' second favorite Loki,'" Mobius teased. "A certain God of Stories might not be too happy with me otherwise."

Sylvie threw her head back and laughed. Mobius didn't think he'd ever heard her sound so carefree. "As if I were ever truly in the running," she smirked, eyes twinkling.

After finishing the dishes, Mobius and Sylvie sank onto the couch. It was just the two of them since Love had slipped into her room with a book on Astrophysics once Thor and Loki left.

"Mobius?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to leave— once Loki and Thor get back."

Mobius sat up, turning to face her fully. "Really? Why?"

"I'm really happy with the life I've built, and now that Loki is free, I— I've done what I set out to do."

"Can I at least convince you to stay for dinner? It'd be a nice send-off. And Thor loves a good party."

Sylvie looked hesitant for a moment, but eventually conceded with a small smile. "Alright. One more night."

~

The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of pink and orange. On the front porch of the cottage, Mobius's fingers carded through Loki's ebony curls. He didn't know how the God had wound up with his head resting in his lap, but he'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

"You know, I was right about you all along," Mobius smirked. "You really are just a little pussycat."

Loki huffed indignantly  "I'll have you know that I'm a prince , Agent Mobius, and I will not tolerate this abased slander." Despite his words, he made no effort to move away.

"Whatever you say, Your Highness," Mobius chuckled.

As their banter subsided, Mobius's mind couldn't help but wander back to the night before. Although he couldn't fathom how Loki could ever want someone like him, the hours they'd spent under the aurora had done wonders to ease his anxieties. Despite this, there was one more thing nagging at the back of his consciousness. He knew it would sound ridiculous and irrational to voice it out loud, but he wanted to clear the air, and hopefully ease his mind.

"I'm not gonna lie Loki, I didn't expect this turn of events." Loki tilted his head up, giving Mobius his full attention. "This might sound kinda dumb, but I coulda sworn you were head over heels for Sylvie."

Loki hummed in acknowledgment, gently stroking Mobius's knee as he seemed to gather his thoughts. "Perhaps at one point I was, but for me, that was all centuries ago. She never felt the same, so those feelings didn’t last.” He huffed humorlessly. "She kicked me through a Time Door, remember? She was set on killing He Who Remains, and I wanted us to consider the consequences. I tried appealing to her emotions, and in turn, she manipulated mine." He looked up at Mobius. "I'll always care about her, but I assure you, I harbor no romantic feelings." His eyes sparkled, "Except, of course, the ones I have for you." Loki reached up and tucked a strand of Mobius's hair behind his ear. Mobius's heart stuttered in his chest.

"And how long have those been around," Mobius teased, before realizing it was a somewhat vulnerable question.

Loki rolled his eyes before they softened. "Unwittingly? It’s hard to say. I’ve been drawn to you ever since you told me you’d seen my entire life and didn't consider me a villain." Mobius raised his eyebrows incredulously. To his delight, a light blush began coloring Loki’s cheeks. "But knowingly? Since my 134th attempt at fixing the Loom."

"134th huh?" Mobius laughed. "And why's that?" Embarrassingly enough, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy toward the version of himself that had been there. Which is ridiculous, he chided himself. That Mobius had been wiped away in a Temporal Meltdown.

Loki looked a little bashful. "I was, er, having a rough moment, and you just… made me feel safe. It sort of all just clicked into place."

Mobius couldn't help but squeeze Loki a little tighter. He leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Keep saying things like that, sweetheart, and I'll never let you go."

Loki flushed even more, but Mobius caught a glint of mischief in his eye before he pushed himself up, positioning his lips centimeters away from Mobius's.

"Then don't."

A thrill raced up Mobius's spine. He pulled Loki into a deep, possessive kiss.

~

By the time the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, Loki had made his way into Mobius's lap, chin resting atop his head. After a few minutes of quiet embrace, Loki pulled back, looking a bit concerned.

"Earlier, I told Thor that I'd stay here with him. I never asked you if you'd want to go back to your life in Cleveland. I wouldn't be selfish enough to presume you'd want to uproot the entire life you've built to stay here in Norway with us, but—"

Mobius placed a finger against his lips. "If I'm welcome here, I'd be more than happy to stay." He let out a derisive huff. "The so-called 'life' I built? That was just me trying to keep myself distracted from your absence."

Loki gave him a bittersweet smile and squeezed his hand tighter. "Well, I can't imagine my brother having any objections."

Mobius smiled back, brushing a stray curl behind Loki's ear. "Earlier, Sylvie told me that she's gonna go back to her timeline. I convinced her to stay for dinner."

Loki hummed in acknowledgment. "I can't say I'm surprised. She's been uprooted too many times to leave it all behind again."

"I'm glad she's finally found some peace." Mobius sighed. Suddenly, he noticed two approaching figures in the distance. Loki took note of his distraction and followed his gaze. Thor was walking toward the cottage with a fierce-looking woman with long flowing micro braids—the King of Asgard herself.

"Well, looks like my brother brought a dinner guest," Loki observed, elegantly rising off Mobius's lap and offering a hand. "Shall we go greet them?"

-----

Notes:

Hey everyone! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to get out. Life got quite busy this past month, and I wanted to make sure I took the time to do Thor and Loki's conversation justice. They have quite a lot of baggage to unpack.

I'm currently working on a oneshot prequel about when Loki realized the true nature of his feelings for Mobius (during his 134th attempt at fixing the Loom). When it's posted, you'll be able to find it on the 'Relinquish Your Burden' Masterlist :)

(Edit: It’s posted! You can read it here)

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💞

taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist at any point, please leave a comment or send me a message :)

@loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr @superficialdomina @infinitystoner @unlucky-number-13

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[i-dagger-you]

Timeless Kiss | Sylki in Loki Season 2 Fix-It

Loki goes back in time right before Sylvie turns into 'spaghetti.' 'There's nowhere left to go,' Sylvie's voice echoes. With a flick of his wrist, he pauses time. 'Loki, what's going on?' Sylvie asks as she looks around at the threads of the timeline that were once dissapearing, now stopped. 'I've finally learned to control the time slipping,' Loki explains. He goes on to explain why HWR must not be killed.

Sylvie, still trying to process what Loki is saying, whispers, 'So what're you planning to do?' Loki takes a deep breath and says, 'I'm gonna stop you from killing HWR. Well, I did... multiple times, actually. That's why I'm here. I need you to tell me what I can do to possibly stop you from executing him.'

Sylvie suddenly thought of something, something that would make her vulnerable. Something she never thought she would ever consider, but it involves the fate of the timelines, and lives are at stake. Most importantly, it's Loki with whom she'll be vulnerable. She contemplates for a moment before saying, 'Enchant me. See what I really wanted.' Loki's eyes widen at the suggestion, and he says, 'I... I've never been able to enchant alone before.' Sylvie responds, 'Who says you're alone?' while gently guiding his hands to cup her neck, her own hands resting on top of his.

Loki pauses, subtly nodding, and closes his eyes. Suddenly, a wave of emotions and memories from their fight at the Citadel comes crashing in, but from her point of view. He realizes that she hadn't kissed him as a mere distraction but that she actually had feelings for him and waiting for him to come find her after she pushed him to safety. They were on the same boat, both vulnerable and afraid to speak about their innermost feelings to someone they cared about—a lot. He opens his eyes, gasping for air, before leaning in for a kiss. One hand caresses her cheek while the other still lingers around her neck, igniting a fiery passion between them. Sylvie's eyes widen in shock before closing, and she deepens the kiss. They lose themselves in the moment, reveling in the love and passion that flow between them.

As they pull apart, with their faces mere inches from each other, Sylvie whispers, 'Yeah, that could work...' Loki grins as he whispers back, 'Let's test it out a little longer, just to make sure.' Sylvie smiles against his lips as they continue to kiss slowly, for what feels like an eternity, while time stands still quite literally.

'I love you,' Loki says with emotion as he pulls back to look into her eyes. Sylvie blushes and teases, 'Tell me that earlier, and I might just say it back.' Loki softly chuckles before sighing and adding, 'I'll be right back by your side and I'll always come running after you.' Sylvie smiles as Loki closes his eyes to control time, intending to go back in time, to the Citadel, but this time with a newfound certainty in their connection, a love that transcends time.

[yummygender]

Beyond The Timelines

A fix-it Loki series fan fic because WHAT THE FUCK MARVEL?!!

(Warnings: Magical Self-Harm, Sad Loki, Sylvie being an abusive bitch, and Gay se-I mean Lokius)

This starts after the events of the finale because I can.

Loki sat on the throne, alone in the tree of timelines he created. He had a throne…but he never wanted the throne…

‘I ONLY WANTED TO BE YOUR EQUAL!!’

The memories flashed in his head, horrible, horrible memories.

‘We will make you long for something as sweet as pain…’

Loki let his head fall into his knees as he curled into a ball on the throne, sobbing and shaking as his crown fell.

“Mobius…”

His face was red at this point as he wailed like a baby. He didn’t care how he looked. No one was around…he was all alone.

‘…you deserve to be alone and you always will be.’

“MOBIUUSSSSS!!!!”

He snapped as he wailed and screamed, the floor beneath him shaking as his outburst made his magic go haywire and crack the floor below him. The tears continued to fall as he eventually calmed down, only to summon a dagger and repeatedly stab his own arms. Tearing the green fabric as blood began to spill. Loki sobbed and cried out for Mobius as he began to regret everything.

“I WANNA GO BACK!! I WANNA GO HOME!! I WANT MY FRIENDS!!! I WANT MOBIUS!!! MOBIUS!!!!”

His screams and shouts echoed through the hallowed insides of the tree.

“…I want my Mother…”

He sat down on the ground in the fetal position as he sobbed.

‘Am I not your mother?’

“Yes…you’re my only mother…”

Silence echoed through the tree as the timelines continued to glow. It was awful…Loki felt awful. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, occasionally cutting and burning himself as he wiped away his tears. The more he sat there, the worst the memories got. Some were of Sylvie.

‘Love is Hate.’

Memories continued to flood, most of Sylvie being rotten and borderline abusive. Sylvie fighting him, hitting him, spewing insults, and even going as far as to pull his ear and drag him away like he was a child.

“She never loved me…she hated me.”

Loki had never really liked Sylvie, he hated her…but Mobius on the other hand? Oh, how he loved him. His smile, his shimmering eyes, the man was a saint. Loki adored Mobius…he wants him…he needs him. Loki conjured up his favorite memory of his…Mobius and Loki sitting in the little pie room together as they talked.

He continued to think about what happened. How Classic Loki died, how the minute men took him in and all in all…how this started. That elevator…that dreaded elevator. Standing next to Mobius. Loki was always with Mobius…even near the end.

“Mobius…I miss you…”

It was always those two together. Nothing felt better then when he was with Mobius. It felt horrible. He was alone…and he needed Mobius. He wanted Mobius…he craved Mobius. In his head it was nothing but Mobius.

Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius.

Constantly in his head. It drove him crazy as he gripped onto his hair.

Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius, Mobius. Mobius.

Loki began to sob loudly. It hurt. It hurt so badly.

Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius. Mobius.

“STOOOOPPP!!!!”

He continued to sob loudly. He was broken…completely broken.

“Mobius…”

“Hey buddy…”

[blackbirdofasgard]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Loki (TV 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Loki/Mobius M. Mobius, Casey & O.B. | Ouroboros (Loki TV), Hunter B-15 & Mobius M. Mobius Characters: O.B. | Ouroboros (Loki TV), Casey (Loki TV), Hunter B-15 (Marvel), Mobius M. Mobius, Loki (Marvel), Sylvie (Mentioned) Additional Tags: B-15 goes by Verity, various POV, Canon Compliant, Post-Season/Series 02, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Rescue, fictional technobabble, the power of love and friendship and deus ex machina will get Loki out of that tree so help me, Don't Examine This Too Closely, details not important, Mobius M. Mobius Needs a Hug, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), they both just need each other okay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Crying, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together Series: Part 5 of Lokius Fluffuary 2024 Summary:

O.B.'s frown became more pensive as he tried to think of a solution. As far as he knew, there was nothing in existence yet that could solve this problem, but...There had to be something they could do to free Loki! Maybe then, O.B. could help make Mobius happy again by reuniting him with Loki. Maybe both of them would even come back to the TVA! O.B. missed them; they'd both changed his life! Besides, everything was just a little more interesting when Loki and Mobius—

And then, a spark.

O.B.'s expression cleared as gears began to turn in his head and plans began to formulate.

Mobius...That gave O.B. an idea...

As good as the new and improved TVA is, Loki's friends are unwilling to forget him and leave him behind. They formulate a plan to free him. O.B. and Casey build a new invention, Verity retrieves Mobius from the timeline, and then together they go to Loki and carry out their rescue mission.

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [27] chapter vi, part iv

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

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chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.

recommended listening : what you waiting for?, gwen stefani

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tag list: @femmealec @mischief2sarawr

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[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

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54 weeks and 1 day out

“Sir. We have movement.”

Tony felt the lines of his spine and shoulder blades pull straight, almost reflexively, swivelling into motion at his holographic worktable like a well-oiled gear.

He was going on a self-imposed work diet- an attempt to rebalance, after living in his work for the past few months, building and breaking and remaking in an endless beta-testing phase, a Sisyphean attempt to patch every vulnerability he could imagine- but it had been pushed back, under the circumstances, and he had rationed out enough time for him to deal with the situation, before starting the full detox.

“Where are we, J?” He asked, with a casual upwards flick above the table.

The gesture summoned a hologram above the desk: an architectural scale model of the Tower, crafted in vitrified blue light.

“There is some unusual activity near the roof.”

The area in question turned orange on the three-dimensional map, zooming in for an exploded view of the topmost two-dozen floors.

Tony had remodelled the top of the Tower, after the Battle of New York. Damage had given him the excuse, and the team had provided the reason. Repaired and restructured, several stories added to its height, the broad, smooth curves and open layout modelled after his cliffside home in Malibu were scrapped, the exterior cleaner and sharper- streamlined, from the slanted crown of its roof, through the convex glass-faced layers of the penthouse floors, to the landing pad extending out into the open air.

Locals had taken to calling it Avengers Tower. None of the roster aside from Tony had taken up residence yet, but they all agreed that it was a good base, and Tony kept the personal suites ready for whenever they might need to drop in.

The luminescent A badge shimmered on the side of the building, level with the landing pad. Just below it- within the three floors dedicated to Tony’s private laboratories, workshops, storage, and fabrication facilities- a red diamond marked his current location.

“Surveillance feeds and motion sensor detectors are offline,” JARVIS announced, highlighting the locations in a chain, “as are the door sensors.”

Tony visually tracked the path that it created.

It led from the roof access, into the emergency stairwell, before terminating at the door into Thor’s suite: no more and no less than would be needed to gain access to the building.

It was more than twenty floors above him- a distance that would take several minutes to traverse. He had time.

“You locked out, buddy?” Tony asked quietly, summoning his touch keyboard with a sweep of his palm. “Or are they trying to be subtle?”

“Neither, sir. As with the first occurrence, this appears to be a mechanical failure, not a cyber-attack.”

His gaze narrowed briefly, jaw moving.

Somehow, that was both more and less plausible than JARVIS being hacked.

“Shall I prepare to go into lockdown protocol, sir?” JARVIS proposed. “It should be possible to isolate intruders to one of the penthouse floors, once they are inside.”

Tony contemplated the offer for only a heartbeat.

“No. Clear the way down for her, J,” he decided breezily. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”

There was a brief, audibly judgemental pause in the response time.

“As you wish, sir.” Tony could hear the mild disapproval and concern behind his AI’s cool, crisp tones. “Shall I at least stand by with security protocols?”

“Doubt we’ll be needing them, but- feels like this one’s got a few fireworks up her sleeve.” He conceded blithely, pre-empting the reproach about putting himself at unjustifiable risk. “Alright. Safety off, but finger off the trigger.”

Tony turned in his chair, scanning the room. The workshop was cluttered with a rich confusion of half-finished projects, both metal and digital, strewn across screens and surfaces between discarded coffee cups and various tools.

“And clear the decks, J. Window Dressing Protocol.”

At the command, the screens cleared.

Detailed blueprints and test data were replaced with generic schematics and randomised code, like cellophane pasted on a device fresh out of the box. They reflected in the wall of glass that faced the length of the room- diluted against the dark hallway beyond.

With a gentle swipe, Tony dismissed the render of the Tower.

Rising to his feet, he slid the rolling chair aside, summoned a program and began typing, looking to all the world like the very image of productivity and genius at work.

He wasn’t kept waiting for long.

A gentle rap of knuckles sounded on the reinforced, shatter-proof glass.

Tony’s head snapped up.

The girl whose real name definitely wasn’t Alethia waited just outside, painted like day in the light spilling from the workshop.

She was dressed for the winter night, a New York romance in a soft black sweater and jeans the colour of dried roses, champagne hair pinned in in a braided coil, emphasising a pretty set of cheekbones and long eyelashes. Backs of her knuckles still raised to the glass, snow-dusted and pleasantly windswept, she tipped chin down slightly in greeting.

She looked better, Tony observed. Her skin was clearer, her eyes brighter, expression smoother- less tension-soured, less angry, and more like the person that she had sounded like, aboard the Helicarrier.

Without looking, he tapped a command into the control panel.

The electronic lock switched open with a heavy snap.

Alethia turned the handle, stepping inside, flawless and measured.

“Dr Stark.”

There was a low thrum in her voice, as though cautiously pleased to see him.

“Not-agent.”

Tony’s reply was blandly jovial. Shunting the lines of code aside, he stepped away from the workbench, one hand tucked into his pocket. He had remained outfitted in dark sweats and a gym shirt, standard gear for the workshop, but his posture was that of when he was in a three-piece suit and a boardroom- eyes fixed on her face, chin tilted up slightly, sizing her up with an air of casual challenge.

To her credit, Alethia remained unaffectedly at ease.

It had reminded him a little of Pepper- but not by much.

Virginia Potts was like a ceramic knife. There was a deliberate poise to her, born of a consciousness of her disadvantages in the industry, a refusal to be anything less than a worthy player of the game; she was everything prim and correct and refusing to be intimidated, the result of thousands of observations and lessons learned and choices made, constructed into a statuesque, pleasantly intimidating facade.

Alethia reminded him far more of someone else.

Tony had realised it when she was leaning over the Tesseract transport device, her voice focused and softly mirthful.

Relax. I have steady hands.

For a moment, he had been hurled back in time. He had tasted metal, and dust, lung tissue still burning from the water with each breath, the heat of the forge at his back and the dim cold of the caves at his front, the weight of a car battery slung over his shoulder, and a pair of lean hands- Yinsen, sure and calm and steady, mild-mannered yet ruthlessly insightful, guarded and tired and yet earnest- pouring molten palladium into its cast.

Relax, he had chided Tony gently, tilting the long handles of the tongs, inclining the lip of the crucible over the mould. I have steady hands. Why do you think you are alive, ah?

After removing it from his chest for the second time, Tony had quietly returned the first miniaturised arc reactor to the display mount that Pepper had commissioned, sealing it back in glass.

It was still powered by that delicate ring of palladium, poured by steady hands under a mountain in Afghanistan.

With a steady sweep of her lashes, Alethia looked past Tony’s shoulder, at the screen display where he had been typing.

Her head tilted.

“Was there any particular reason that you were translating the lyrics of ABBA’s Dancing Queen into base64?”

Huh. Well.

Tony had more or less expected that she would see straight through the chains of randomised letters and numbers, like an awl punching through leather, but- the casual quickness was a little disorientating. It was like expecting a card trick, and getting shoved into a swimming pool instead.

“Everybody needs a hobby,” he said, bald-faced and shameless.

“Mm.” Hazel eyes flicked to his, warm as vanilla and laughter. “I’ve heard worse.”

They trailed into silence.

“Ran a trace, on the phone number you left,” Tony admitted boldly. “Before I called.”

Alethia smiled slightly.

“Ah. Were you disappointed?”

“I think I’d be disappointed if it was that easy.” Tony decided, circling the desks, feigning distraction. Alethia was missing a coat that would make sense for the cold. Her nails were trimmed neat, without polish. The only traces of makeup were a swipe of soft black kohl at the corners of her eyes and the sheen of lip balm. Practical, yet impractical. “Complete no sell, though. Impressive. That SHIELD tech?”

The corner of her mouth pulled up further.

“No.”

“You still with them?”

“If I ever was, I’m not now.”

“So you’re a free agent?”

“Free not-agent.”

“How long?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“I mean, I’d call it due diligence, but I’ve got a pair of cuffs somewhere, if it’d make you more comfortable.”

Alethia’s smile bloomed into a brilliant grin.

“Didn’t think you’d be into that, Dr Stark.”

She sobered slightly, clear as glass.

“Ask me what you want to know. I wouldn’t have left a way for you to contact me, if I wasn’t willing to talk.”

Tony held her gaze for a long moment.

He tapped at the keypad.

Several pages opened across the screens.

Pages of instructions, formulas, tables, calculations, and skeletal molecular structures illuminated the digital glass.

Alethia kept her gaze on Tony.

“What is this?” Tony asked, quiet and direct.

She breathed a slow exhale, hip cocking.

“The formulas, chemical synthesis processes, and medical procedures for stabilising the biological effects of the experimental serum known as Extremis,” she announced clinically, “when introduced to the human body intravenously, subcutaneously, or intramuscularly.” Alethia paused, pointedly. “I did include an abstract.”

“And you broke into my building to leave it here.”

“I apologise for the necessity.” Alethia replied evenly. “It was safer, than a courier.”

“You couldn’t think of another way?”

She arched an eyebrow.

“So- a package, delivered to this building, or a file sent to the general inquires inbox for Stark Industries, addressed directly to you, from an unknown sender- wouldn’t have been lost in the system?”

Despite the lingering irritation, he could admit that she had a point.

And at least she hadn’t tried to hack JARVIS, or threatened to taser him, or ripped the arc reactor out of his chest, or thrown him through a window.

All in all, this break-in was probably in his top three.

Tony flicked his hands into a shrug, keeping his expression blank and blithe.

“Alright. Let’s say I buy that.” He did buy it, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “You wanna tell me what this really is?”

He saw the subtle shift in her eyes, becoming a little shrewder, a touch sharper- and a little pleased.

She pulled up one shoulder.

“A gift? Or a bribe, perhaps. Gratitude. Diplomacy. A resumé.”

“What, you’re in the market for a job?”

The quip was as pithy as he intended, but in the split second that followed- huh.

Actually.

That wasn’t a terrible idea.

Tony acknowledged that he needed to step back from Iron Man- at least until he could reorganise his head and redraw the lines so that it wasn’t the all-consuming furnace of fear and duty and penance and freedom-safety that it had become- but the work wouldn’t wait. The planet was on a deadline, and Tony had more resources than most to pull the necessary defences together. Having good people on board, who could keep his projects ticking over while he reorientated, was essential.

And Alethia knew. She had recognised the monsters lurking in the dark between the stars, and had looked for someone to warn when she decided that Fury couldn’t be trusted to listen.

And then there was the truth in all things, and cannot lie aspect. That was a hell of an ace up Earth’s collective sleeve- if, if, if-

“I don’t need a job, Dr Stark. What I need is an ally.” Alethia spoke as clear and calm as daybreak upon the mountains. “We both do. As many as we can get.”

Tony swallowed, carefully.

He turned his head to look at the screens, grappling down the swoop of intermingled terror and relief.

“So this is your pitch.”

“I was working on other areas, but- I saw the news,” Alethia said mildly. “The bombings. Malibu.”

She hesitated.

“I was worried.”

Tony flicked a slightly surprised glance back at her.

Alethia’s gaze was on the screens, inscrutable.

There was a note of quiet sincerity in her voice that rattled something within him, like marbles in a jar.

“Well.” Tony began, turning back towards the illuminated text. “I’ve come back from the dead before.”

“Even so.” She demurred. “You were- you were kind to me. I didn’t forget that. So I was glad to find that you were alright. Then I found out about AIM, and Extremis, and I- thought you could use the assistance.”

Tony didn’t know what to say.

He still couldn’t decide, even after a moment to reboot.

Instead, he deflected.

“I knew you weren’t an engineer.”

“Hm?”

Tony flicked a practiced, flippant gesture at the screens- a quick upturn of his palm, fingers loosely curled- turning away.

“Back then. The instructions you provided for the Tesseract device- I mean, we talked about it at the time. Hot garbage, right? Intentional hot garbage, but still. There was a solid working understanding of the physics and the mechanics, but it wasn’t written by someone au fait with the field. There are things that you only learn if you’ve studied it, read the books, learned how to speak the language. It’s all in the common practice- the jargon, the shorthand. That was missing, from your papers. There were a few pieces, but not enough. You’re not an engineer.”

Tony turned to face her, expression a flat, inscrutable mask.

“You are a doctor, though.”

Alethia didn’t flinch.

He would expect nothing less, from someone who had kept secrets from Nicholas Fury and was still walking around, doing as she pleased.

“This,” Tony raised a finger to his shoulder-line, indicating the screens behind him. “Is perfect. Flawless. You could send this for peer review and get it published in The Lancet.”

A chink appeared in Alethia’s expression- something that she had allowed to break through, intense as sunlight striking on a shard of glass.

Pride.

It was earned. As far as Tony could tell, she had whipped up the antiserum formula within a matter of days; any sane research institute or private company on the planet, including the medical subsidiaries of Stark Industries, would be putting a bounty on her corporate headhunt if they knew.

Blasé as he could afford to be with money, however, Tony rarely made a purchase without knowing the price.

“So. What are you?” He paced back towards her, gathering a slow momentum like the wind of a crank, closing in. “Biochem? Cellular biology? Genetics? What’s your speciality?”

Alethia smiled.

“Neurosurgery.”

Tony’s brow twitched at the admission, taken aback.

He wasn’t actually expecting a straight answer. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

And he wasn’t expecting its wistfulness.

“You’re a brain surgeon?”

She let out a short laugh.

“I should probably introduce myself.” An incandescent, media-ready smile lit up her features, relaxed and confident. “Dr Astrid North, MD.”

Tony stilled.

That was her name, he could tell. Not an alias.

Tony quickly calculated the risk, that she was taking.

“Date of birth recorded as the twenty-ninth of February, 1988,” she continued, as though this time she was actually reciting and submitting her résumé for consideration. “Graduated from Columbia in the class of ’03, summa cum laude, completed my neurosurgical residency in 2010. I also worked under the surnames Stephenson and Stephensdottir- spelt like the doctorate, not like the super-soldier. There should be records of me available here in New York, as well as the UK, Italy, Switzerland, Sweden, Singapore, and Brazil.”

Tony could feel the staccato of his heart, stuttering behind the arc reactor, a thrum of anticipation.

“Hm. SHIELD know any of this?”

Alethia’s- Astrid’s- lip curled with a hint of contempt.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

She lifted her shoulder. “I thought you’d want an insurance policy.”

“And what have I done to earn that?”

“You listened.”

“I passed the test,” Tony inferred. “That’s why you’re here?”

“I’m here because I would like to trust you,” Astrid said coolly, “and because I think there’s a more than fair probability that I can. And- because I would like you to trust me. Even if only enough to work together.”

Tony observed her for a few dragging seconds.

“What’s your endgame?” He challenged. “You told me back then that you’re not an altruist.”

“Oh, I’m not.”

“Then why? What’s in it for you?”

Her brow tensed slightly.

“Enlightened self-interest? Or, is I don’t want the planet I currently live on to be destroyed insufficient for you?”

“Eh, plenty of people don’t find it compelling. Look at climate change.”

Astrid’s lips parted to reply- before she grimaced, glancing aside in admission.

“Alright, fair point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But maybe I’m just more circumspect.”

“Or you have another reason.”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a slow blink.

“You are being very obstinate about this.”

“You know, I don’t actually care, what your actual reason is,” Tony blurted out, sharp and caustic as battery acid, a sudden flare of anger and impatience shoving him forwards, “because you’re right. We need allies. Including each other. So I’m willing to work with your reason why. But only if I know what it is.”

The moment that Tony stopped speaking, he became aware of how Astrid was looking at him.

Tony felt like he was being taken apart, disassembled, the cover plate pulled off to check the hardware.

Truth in all things.

She hummed, soft in the back of her throat. It was the kind that he could feel in his sternum, even with most of it carved away for the arc reactor.

“Alright,” she said softly. “Fair’s fair.”

She straightened, looking away.

“There is- someone.” She said carefully. “Someone that I love.”

Tony blinked.

It was like the twist of a kaleidoscope, patterns reforming, in four simple words.

“And the one responsible for- that-” Astrid snapped a finger heavenwards, her entire being smouldering with a leashed, soul-deep hatred, “took them, at their most vulnerable. Captured them. Tortured them. For months. Years. Twisted their memories, tainted their emotions, and manipulated their pain until they no longer knew where they ended, and the sceptre began. They barely kept enough of themselves to ruin it all, and break free of the control.”

Tony felt a muscle in his bicep and jaw twitch, flicking an appraising, calculating look across her.

Interesting.

“The one that I love will be hunted as a traitor. Or, as a failure- I don’t think it matters, and I don’t care. It all has the same end. What matters is that the one I love will never be safe, until and unless that is no longer a threat.”

Astrid dropped her hand, meeting his eyes addressing him with a tone of complete, terrifying certainty.

“I have decided that it is not going to be a threat.”

The floor of Tony’s stomach dropped out, the room seeming to tilt.

He was suddenly struck with a strange thought- like some survival instinct coded into his evolutionary ancestry, tapping at his nerve endings, lingering like a chill in the vertebrae of his neck. It was the feeling that he was looking at something ancient, and angered- half-mad and unhinged and doing an admirable job of containing itself to its human skin.

He realised, in a split second, that Astrid was probably something not entirely human.

And she was baring her teeth at whatever was threatening to swallow Earth whole.

Fuck it. He could work with this.

“All of the sake of love?” Tony asked.

He took pride in the fact that his cadence was even-keeled, despite the stagger of his pulse.

A humourless, self-deprecating smile wrung through her features.

“You can laugh,” Astrid told him, rueful and without rancour. “I know how I must sound.”

Tony forced himself to shrug, nonchalantly. “I’ve heard worse.”

And he had. Tony had been worse. He had cut deals with worse, because he was a realist, and anyone pursuing utopia had to be willing to drag themselves through purgatory first.

After a long moment, Tony inhaled sharply, pulling his shoulders back.

“Okay,” he said powerfully. “If this is a bluff? I’m calling it. Cards on the table.”

A spark ignited behind Astrid’s eyes, like a struck match.

“Pepper’s been injected with Extremis,” he continued brusquely, “I need to get her stable, along with any other test subjects that AIM decided to turn into literal walking time bombs. That’s why you gave me these papers, right? You thought I could use it, and I can. So let’s get to it. You in?”

Astrid looked startled- before her entire demeanour snapped into a honed, clinical focus.

“Wh- are you monitoring cortisol levels? Internal temperature, heartrate, WBC-?”

“Per doctor’s orders.” Tony flicked his head towards the reams of detailed medical instructions, listed out on the glass. “Followed your procedures to the letter. We’re tracking down anyone else who might have taken part in clinical trials, but it looks like there were a limited number, at least.”

Astrid tugged up her sleeves with an efficient pinch of fabric, pulling the soft knit clear of her wrists and forearms. “How many potential patients?”

“Caps out at a dozen, maybe.”

“The antiserum? You’ve started synthesising it?”

“As we speak, lab’s running on auto.”

“How much?”

“About two hundred and fifty milligrams, in the first batch.”

“Not enough. Triple it. And quintuple it for the others, per patient. I don’t want to be caught out with less than we need. Have you started on the round of pre-antiserum IV fluids?”

“About three hours ago.”

“And no adverse effects, contraindications?”

“Nada. Smooth sailing, all in line with where you said we should be by now.”

“Good, but keep Miss Potts closely monitored. And we’ll still need to test the antiserum on a live tissue sample, if possible.”

“I’ll get on it.”

Tony swiped two fingers down through the air, dismissing the pages on the screens, the room dimming slightly as they slid away.

“If this works,” he said, his enunciation crisp, “we can talk.” In one fluid motion, Tony plucked a StarkPad from amongst the chaos of the workbenches, flipping it in his grip to hold it, outstretched, within her reach. “Sound good, doctor?”

Astrid smiled, light and wild, and Tony felt his decision settle in his chest with a feeling of rightness.

This could work.

She took the tablet.

“Lead the way, doctor.”

-

Astrid made an addition to her list.

Flour.

-

50 weeks and 3 days out

Brunnhilde would be the first to admit that she was not made for subterfuge.

She was a woman of brash, blunt action, more inclined to punch her way straight through her problems that to deconstruct them. As such, her vocation suited her. The Valkyrie were the vanguard, the cavalry, the elite corps, revered shieldmaidens who cleared the field with a swift, graceful brutality that was immortalised in legend and song and carving.

They had been thralls, once. Slaves.

Most of Asgard had forgotten that.

As war raged across the Nine, they had been appropriated by the throne- a form of tax levy, on the wealthy of Asgard- and dispatched to the battlefield in the wake of Asgard’s armies, to collect corpses from the slurry. Choosers of the slain, the golden-plated Einherjar snickered into their cups, leering over the rims.

Then there was a shortage of disposable warm bodies. It had seen weapons pressed into their hands, shoved to the front lines to fill out the ranks.

Against all expectation, the Valkyrie had fought. The fought, and lived, and bought victory to Asgard.

In recognition of their deeds, Bor had purchased their freedom. The Valkyrie became the pride of Asgard, a symbol of its might, arrayed in battle armour of bright, sun-catching pearl-white and star-silver.

Their origins were probably why the Valkyrie could be found working, even in peacetime- conducting funerary rites, serving at great state occasions, maintaining Folkvang- while the Einherjar regressed into nothing more than decorative doorstops scattered throughout Gladsheim.

Brunnhilde had once remarked as such to Loki. Months later, he had presented her with a gilded doorstop for her nameday, crafted into the shape of an Einherjar in full regalia.

It had sent Brunnhilde into a fit of delighted, undignified cackles.

I’m calling him Sigurd, she declared with a feral grin.

Ah, he’s not going to last a week, Loki had commented, clicking his tongue with a convincing veneer of faux-pity.

Even now, few if any of Brunnhilde’s sisters were of noble blood or wealthy backgrounds. Most of them came from labouring families, apprenticed in a trade before they turned old enough to apply to the corps, and they bought their skills to Folkvang. The Valkyrie’s halls, sheltered in a chilled, fertile basin in the mountains, was almost entirely self-sufficient thanks to their collective knowledge. They raised fields of wheat and flax, milled their own flour and spun their own linen, wove and baked and built, felled timber and hunted and fished, tanned leather and cured meat, cut stone and dug wells, even kept bees and pressed oil and fermented wine and made candles.

And then there was the lace.

A few girls who knew how to weave had taken it up, transforming thread into pretty swatches of aerated cloth. They had begun teaching the craft to a few others, when they showed interest. Then the pastime became an additional source of income, to supplement the stipend provided by the crown.

And within a few centuries, Valkyrie lace was considered amongst the most exquisite craftsmanship in all the Nine. A single spool of inch-wide trim commanded a small fortune. When a Valkyrie was wed, it was customary for her sisters to spend the year and a day between engagement and marriage- or longer, if they saw the union coming- making as many yards of lace as they could manage, as her dowry.

Brunnhilde loved her sisters, admired their work, and hated lacemaking with a virulence that she usually reserved for bilgesnipe and strutting lordlings who thought that bedding a Valkyrie was a notch in their gilded belt.

Fortunately, she also had absolutely no talent for it. The others had quickly banished her from their tatting pillows and needles and bobbins, gently shoving her off towards work that actually made sense to her.

And Brunnhilde was content to have nothing to do with it. She honestly couldn’t understand what the others envisioned in the countless threads, or why crossing one here or knotting another there would somehow create a magnificently intricate motif several thousand more motions later, even if she was capable of appreciating the result.

In that sense, subterfuge reminded her of lacework.

She couldn’t see all of the threads, where they were leading, or how they locked together into a single bolt of woven fibre and air- but Loki so clearly knew exactly how each and every loop and twist and knot would build outwards, and took quiet satisfaction in seeing each one tighten into place, like a miniature noose.

There was an aching patience to it, each miniscule snag changing the fall of the delicate mesh, and Brunnhilde was often caught by the impulse to just hack her way through it.

She didn’t.

Instead, she did exactly as he asked.

Asgard underestimates him, a memory whispered- that of a warm voice, accompanied by a smile that darkened the eyes above it into amber. Or thinks it sees him, or thinks it knows what it’s looking at. A trick of the light. A shadow on glass. It is a mistake, you know.

The darkened eyes had begun to glow, instead, when they saw that Brunnhilde was paying attention.

I think he might be the most real person that I have ever met.

“I was surprised,” Loki admitted, on a low, distracted hum, “that you didn’t ask.”

The dungeons were quiet, at least in the wing where Loki was being held. It felt like an archive, a place for lost and forgotten things to be kept, shelved and stored out of sight until they were needed- the air settled as silt on the bottom of a riverbed, barely stirring with the sparse rounds of the guards.

Brunnhilde had counted eleven weaknesses that she could exploit, if it came to it.

She would have counted three dozen more in a fraction of the time.

She felt her heart clench strangely. It was the feeling of old scar tissue, untouched for so long, flexing and moving once more.

She and Loki were seated at the front of his cell, arranged parallel against the golden barrier on either side. Swathed in worn, nondescript suedes, Brunnhilde slouched on the stone steps, bare shoulder shoved against the forcefield; the air felt thicker the closer she came to the curtain of spellwork, like magnetic resistance, but she found herself leaning her weight into it, defiant and testing, like pressing her thumb down on a new bruise.

On the other side, Loki was sorting through several sheaves of handwritten notes, stacks surrounding him like panes in a half-rose window. His black hair was braided back at his crown, dressed in soft leathers and deep green linens and lightweight boots, finely made with immaculate quality, but far simpler than would be expected of an Asgardian prince- at least outside of the privacy of the residential wings of the palace.

Brunnhilde knew that he could have dressed himself in illusions, if he wished.

The choice not to was- interesting. In a way that she refused to think about.

There were a lot of things she refused to think about, with regards to Loki.

Not when it made her feel all those mollusc-soft sentiments that she had decided to kill years ago, for her own survival, after the gold plating of Asgard had begun to flake in her eyes.

In that, at least, she knew they were both in good company.

“I asked about this,” Brunnhilde countered his comment, tapping a nail against the arm ring that sat flush against the curve of her bicep. It was a deceptively simple band of brass, seeming to blend in against her, unremarkable regardless of lighting. Between it, and Loki’s magic, they were shielded from the Gatekeeper’s watch- Loki as a glaring lacuna in the script, a blank space, and Brunnhilde as though from behind a fine, misting rain, the specifics blurred out of focus.

Loki rolled his eyes, in that prissy, superior manner that left Brunnhilde more amused than irritated, these days.

“Yes, about whether it would turn your skin orange or set you spitting toads, of all things.”

“It was a valid concern, knowing you.”

“Hm.” There was a slight upturn at the corner of Loki’s mouth- the closest thing to agreement that she would probably wrest out of him.

Brunnhilde slipped loose a smirk.

“I didn’t bother asking,” she admitted, in a crisp-consonant drawl, “because I knew that I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. It would be like asking to read a contract before I sign, when I don’t know the language it’s written in.”

Loki’s eyes sliced up from the papers, without lifting his head, fixing her with a serpentine gaze.

“You do yourself a disservice, Brunn.”

Brunnhilde paused, a little surprised by his quiet vehemence.

She shrugged it away.

“This is just not something I’m suited for. Politics and subterfuge and spywork. Moving the pieces by moving entirely different ones, lightyears away. It’s like my sisters, and their lacework,” she admitted blithely. “I understand the theory. But even if you had told me where this was going, I wouldn’t know enough to tell if you were lying.”

But.

Brunnhilde wasn’t entirely ignorant to Loki’s plans. She had made certain of it.

She had heard the gossip, on dozens of planets across the Nine. The arm ring not only shielded her from Heimdall’s sight, but also from the perils of using the secret passageways that were specked across Asgard- allowing her to move freely between worlds, at Loki’s direction.

Steadily, disparate pieces and seemingly unconnected incidents were coalescing, into a clear picture.

Muspelheim had struck an unexpected trade deal with Ria. When the revival of the disused trade route had attracted Marauders and Ravagers, a new defence coalition had formed, stationed at crucial waypoints to prevent piracy and smuggling.

The Crown Prince of Vanaheim had headed a diplomatic envoy to Alfheim. By the time he had arrived, Niflheim’s queen just so happened to be also be visiting her fellow monarch. The triumvirate meeting occurred without a single Asgardian dignitary present.

A few weeks later, the realm of the light elves had also hosted several representatives of dwarven guilds.

The Nova-Kree War was turning cold. The Nine had become neutral ground. The Nova Corps had offered aid to those on the outskirts and most affected by raids, and had sent engineers to retrofit their older, short-haul vessels with swifter engines and stronger defences. The Kree were in tentative talks with Nidarvellir, to have the dwarves invest in maintaining local jump points, in exchange for Kree arms to protect their merchant fleets.

The realms were moving, like the interlocking turn of dials and gears. And for the first time in millennia, Asgard was excluded from its workings.

And it was Loki’s doing.

At his instruction, Brunnhilde had bribed and baited Ravagers to harass Nidarvellir trade routes. She had placed bets at various ports, on the likelihood of a Kree civil war. She had sold information on Knowhere, changed figures on shipping manifestos, stirred up bar fights and complained about the export tax on goods out of Ria, destroyed shipments and switched documents and delayed correspondence, paid off and blackmailed and persuaded civil servants and stewards and aides into suggesting or omitting a minor detail from a report, or handing a project to a different department.

Brunnhilde was the stage hand in a great, orchestrated play. The Nine were being gently herded into a strengthening current- one that was looking outwards, into a galaxy where the balance of power was shifting.

It was a coup.

And Loki hadn’t even left his cell.

Brunnhilde refused to be impressed.

After a moment, she realised that Loki was looking at her with a glinting amusement.

It wasn’t the kind that was intended to mock, but rather the prelude to bringing her in on the joke.

“Of course you can’t see where this is going, Brunn,” he said softly. “You’re the needle.”

A memory clicked into place, flickering in like guttering lamplight.

There was a bolster pillow in her lap, a lace pad template pinned atop it, embroidery needle gripped uncertain and rigid between her forefinger and thumb. The chatter and bickering and teasing of her sisters was a cloud of ambient sound that seemed to glow like nimbus, in the apple-golden autumn afternoon.

A warm shoulder brushed near her own.

Gently, Brunn! A voice laughed. Treat your needle with respect. Relax your hand. The needle can feel where it needs to go- you’re just guiding it.

This is a terrible idea, Brunnhilde had muttered. We all remember what happened when Svanhit tried to teach me.

Stay away from my bobbins, Brunn! Came a sharp call from across the hall, to a few snickers. Olrun, Hervor, keep her away!

Brunnhilde had made to wave a vulgar gesture at her, and almost stabbed herself with the needle.

Needlepoint lace is more straightforward, a clear voice interjected. Brunnhilde had looked over to her- the glint of her needle moving in brisk freehand stitches, looping and tightening, all deft skill and focus, one moving part, one thread. You don’t have to keep track of seventy different bobbins, and the order you need to cross or twist them in.

Your prince prefers bobbin lace, doesn’t he? Brunnhilde asked, smirkingly.

Brunnhilde received a gentle, reproachful elbow to the ribs.

A flush, through golden skin, head dipping and pearl-white hair slipping forwards.

Prince Loki has a mind for it, she replied, deliberately and damningly neutral. The dance of it, the complexity- it suits him.

Well, what do you prefer?

She had paused, head cocked.

I like both, I suppose, she hedged. Bobbin lace is essentially weaving- looping the strands together, pulling them into place against each other. It tends to be- lighter, more of a fabric with motifs created inside of it. Layers of opacity. Needle lace is often studier. Like- scaffolding. The pattern is all that there is. And the needle has to work back and back and back to bring it into existence, to make sure it holds in place, knotting back where it has already been.

Her eyes sharpened.

No- I think I prefer bobbin lace. Needle lace is- putting a great deal of trust on just one thing.

Brunnhilde blinked back into the present.

Oh.

Loki had learned some lacemaking. He would have likely received that same explanation, heard the same comparison.

After a moment, she scowled, looking away.

“I still hate lacemaking.”

Loki laughed.

-

Worlds away, Astrid made a cautious addition to her list, framed in brackets.

(Lace).

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

[demonicseries]

lokius legion read this if you want your life to be changed in 12k words

[bebx]

AO3 writers when canon sucks:

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

We'll Fix It Together

“What the shit are you doing?” “Trust me.” Trust me. Mobius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Loki was spiraling yet he continued pretending like everything was fine. Mobius knew better. Something was going on that Loki wasn’t telling him and Mobius was going to find out what. Or, a story in which Loki and Mobius work together to find a solution to save the multiverse and everyone in it.

Words: 4,726

Rating: T

Tags: Loki (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, Mobius figures out what's going on, power of friendship saves the day, everyone gets their happily ever after

Mobius M Mobius had learned long ago to expect the unexpected with Loki. He was a god of seemingly never-ending talents but there was one talent Mobius was sure Loki didn’t possess. Loki was not a theoretical physicist. At least he hadn’t been two minutes ago.

“But, Loki,” OB began as they entered the Temporal Loom’s observation deck “Even with Victor’s Throughput Multiplier, the rate of timeline expansion is too-”

“It’s not too expansive,” Loki interjected, answering OB’s question before the technician even had a chance to ask it. “Now that we’ve added the Lorentz device, we’ll be able to match the vacuum expectation values of the Loom, thus lowering the Timelines speed of expansion to near zero.”

“But that’s-”

“Impossible? It’s not. See, the device will allow the Timelines to fluctuate at their lowest energy state, retaining their vibrational motion which– in turn– allows us to stay ahead of the curve, expanding the Loom’s capacity before the expansion rate exceeds the output. It was a brilliant idea, OB, brilliant! Amazing work. It’s going to work this time, I know it.”

This time?

The god continued chattering away, speaking a thousand words a minute and Mobius narrowed his eyes. He’d seen Loki excitable but this was another level. Loki’s shoulders were tense, his breathing quick, and his eyes were bright with what could only be described as manic exhaustion.

Something was off.

“Now, Victor,” Loki exclaimed. “I need you to reroute all the energy from Operations to here, there’s a book of passcodes in the drawer to your right. And- Casey! Casey, what are you doing standing over there? You’re supposed to be next to OB. You know what, doesn’t matter, I need you to-”

Loki was moving too fast. He needed to breathe.

“Loki,” Mobius murmured. He stepped between Loki and Casey, putting a hand on the god’s chest, hoping to still him.

“Casey,” Loki continued, stepping around Mobius and politely shoving aside his hand, “we need to widen the voltage input and invert the temporal decay.”

“What about the ion decoupler?” OB asked.

“It’s fine. We’re gonna route it directly with the primary compartment.”

“Won’t it overheat?”

“No, it's not going to overheat ‘cause we’re going to allow it to interface with Timely’s adaptive exponential computing system. Those upgrades will allow the Loom to scale the capacity to manage the branches. The rings,” Loki made a circle with his hands, “the rings are too small, we’re gonna make them bigger. Let’s go!”

Mobius shook his head in disbelief. When had Loki learned all of this? His knowledge of mechanical engineering was on parr with OB’s now.

“Better watch out OB,” Mobius crooned, “looks like someone’s-”

“Someone’s coming for your job! That’s right. OB, watch your back!” Loki finished mockingly like this wasn’t the first time he’d heard Mobius make that joke. He let out a hysterical chuckle.

What. The. Fuck. Something was off. Something was wrong. And Mobius needed to figure out what.

“Casey,” Loki exclaimed, “get the multiplier down to Timely as fast as you can and-”

Mobius grabbed Loki by the lapel of his jacket and yanked the god around.

“What the shit are you doing?” Mobius seethed.

“Trust me,” Loki quipped.

Trust me. Mobius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Loki was spiraling. There was something going on that he wasn’t telling him and needed to let Mobius in; he needed to explain what the hell was going on. Mobius kept his hands clutched firmly on Loki’s jacket.

“No.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“No.”

“Watch.”

Loki turned back to the computer and entered in a code he definitely hadn’t known earlier that day. A chill crept through Mobius as the pieces started coming together.

“Casey,” Loki suddenly barked into the intercom. “Don’t forget to latch his helmet. Latch. His. Helmet. Okay…” Loki wiped at a bead of sweat on his brow with a trembling hand. “And now we reconfigure the locking mechanism– can’t forget to do that again. Alright. Measurements look good. Dock secure. Yes, here we go. It’s gonna work this time.”

This time. There was that phrase again.

Mobius’ heart plummeted to his shoes with a sickening realization. Suddenly, everything made sense: Loki’s timeslipping, his frantic mood, the eerie way he was able to anticipate everybody’s questions before they had a chance to ask them.

Casey came up from the loading dock. “Mr. Timely’s ready.”

“I know.”

I know.

This wasn’t the first time Loki had lived this moment.

Loki moved back to the keyboard.

“Access denied,” a computerized voice sounded overhead. “Password required.”

The only question was how many times had Loki lived this moment.

Mobius put a hand over Loki’s before the god could finish typing in the password. “Loki.”

“Mobius?” Loki flinched. “What are you-”

“Stop.”

Read the rest on AO3

[occasionally-awsome-human]

!!!

I'm trying to find this AMAZING fic I read but I can't find it. It was an Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, but they literally re-wrote the whole thing in script format!! It's pretty long and didn't have any fanon ships, so if anyone finds anyone please link!!!!

[kcscribbler]

Storyteller Masterpost

Because I believe I'm actually done with this little universe, creating a Masterpost for anyone new who's brave enough to read the monstrosity.

AU "Canon"

To Begin With

Putting Roots Down

Reaching for the Sky

To Begin Again

Extended "Canon"

Faith Rewritten

A Green Christmas

Neutral Ground

Ready or Not

Oneshots and Other AU-Compliant Silliness

Near the Finish Line

A Promise Kept

Sweet and Sour

Emergency Protocols

Polaroid Pictures

Penance Enough

Eye of the Storm

Crossword Clues

Imperfections

Finding Comfort

Night Mode

Sunrise

Amazing art to accompany three of these stories, as well as amazing ficbinding, can be found in my Pinned Post.

[plainlo-inthemorning]

Shine a Light

Warnings: Angst

Rating: Mature

Words: 23 k (complete)

Summary:

All hell has broken loose at the TVA following the death of He Who Remains, and Loki is once more lost and utterly alone. But then a forgotten face from his past reappears, presenting the trickster god with a new, yet strangely familiar riddle to be solved.

Up on AO3 here