Archive of Our Own

There are three things Casey can be sure of right now. 

Firstly, this is one of the weirdest dreams he’s ever had - and it’s only just gotten started. 

He’s in a van - at least, Casey thinks it’s a van anyway, don’t ask him about those kinds of details. Jeez. And he’s hardly alone rolling through this forest with spindly branches for fingers and prickly needles for teeth. 

This is the second thing he knows. Yeah, he has company. 

There are other people here. That weird guy who threatened him with fish is sat up front in the passenger seat, and that other random guy who he’s pretty sure works at the TVA is behind the wheel.

Even here in this dream, they still look like they're ridiculously into each other. Sneaking glances, sinking into whatever stolen moments they can find. 

Whatever. 

Casey isn’t a matchmaker and it’s probably more beneficial for them if the real versions of themselves get their act together outside of his head. 

Take it elsewhere, please. 

Maybe they aren’t aware, but they’re the talk of most of the TVA. Some of the workers have placed bets on their flashy paperweights over when these two will get together. 

Casey never got involved, but he has noticed the strange, consistent magnetism. Hard not to. 

In the backseat, a blonde lady is typing frantically into the collection of gadgets and funky gizmos. Her tech takes up the whole space beside her, which is kind of rude. That must be why Casey is right at the very back, not even in a seat really.  

Purring from his lap draws his attention down. There’s a brown fluffy cat curled up there. Content and comforting. At least that’s nice. 

He might not know what a fish is, but he’s always liked cats - the TVA has one downstairs. 

Anyway, as for the third and final thing - the night is dark. 

Like - really, really dark. Spine-tingling and nail-bitingly so. 

Whispers of the pale moon slither through grey clouds shrouding it from view. But that’s as far as the light ever manages to get. 

Warm and wonderful things do not belong here - they never will and never can. This vacuum where all can exist is stranger than strange and weirder than weird. 

Darker than dark. 

Even the headlights of the van are lost to the foreboding fog. 

Okay. 

Casey has never been on a real road before. So maybe the elaborate winds and forks of their journey cut into the jaw of a gaping landscape are highly exaggerated. But whatever, it’s his dream. 

And apparently, it’s going to be a freaky one. 

The trees seem to chase after them, clawing their branches against the window at every turn. Knock, knock, he hears them hiss. 

Casey doesn’t want to know who or what is there. Instead, he cradles the cat closer to his chest, rocking absently. 

An organ plays a sinister tune in the distance, blending into the background of the whole scene. Honestly, he’s not sure why his mind decided to add that detail to the mix. It’s already obvious what the mood is here. 

“We got more info on the sitch we’re heading into?” asks the lady, adjusting wiry glasses on her face. 

“Situation, I presume you mean.” 

“You’re a situation.”

“Actually,” with a bitter smile, the guy - Loko? - twists round to respond. “I’m a revelation.” 

“Argh!” the lady lifts up one of the fancy gadgets, considering whether to throw it. 

She decides against it, which is good. It looks expensive. 

“Just shut-up, Loki.”

Loki - that’s it. Thank you random but really cool lady in the backseat. 

“I was merely asking a question, no need to bite my head off.” 

“Sylvie has a point, though. Sure wish you would zip it,” the TVA guy says from behind the wheel. “Kinda getting a headache here and this case is already all kinds of kooky.” 

Leaning back, Loki slumps in defeat.  

“Mobius, really that’s-” sigh. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he sulks, sulking. 

“Hey,” Mobius leans over to squeeze Loki’s shoulder with so much earnest warmth and open affection it is startling. “I am, I am. Always, for all time.” 

Their eyes meet. For a second, the organ switches out for mellow sweeping violins. 

Huh. Maybe they are together in this dream. Casey will have to find out later - if there’s a chance. 

“But sometimes you tittle-tattle on too much. You gotta know when to rein it in - no offence.” 

Loki clicks his tongue. 

“A marginal amount taken, I assure you.” 

Oh, a bit of free banter. 

There’s never enough on his strip of the TVA floor. Casey gets more entertainment talking to his pens. 

“You and Scoobs good back there, Casey?” Mobius asks. 

Oh. So apparently, the cat in his lap is called Scoobs now. He doesn't get the reason but dreams aren't always supposed to make sense. 

Scratching beneath Scoob's chin, he blinks at the onslaught of attention.

Three pairs of eyes - really mesmerising ones at that - fixed on him is just too many, thanks.

“Uh, I -...I think I’m okay?” Casey says, not entirely sure anymore. “Thanks for asking, I guess.”

“See,” Loki waves his hands emphatically. “I told you he’d be fine.” 

Leaning forwards, Sylvie musters a pinched smile. 

“Hn, remind me why you couldn’t take the back again?”

That seems to annoy Loki. He spins around in his seat, eyes narrowed. 

“Uh, because I have to sit forward-facing when moving?" Wow. Talk about flippant. "I explained that already.” 

“Really?" Sylvie's lips twist in amusement. "You’re not facing forwards now.” 

“Don’t.”

“So...um,” Casey starts, figuring he should probably interrupt this before the dream meanders far, far away from the original point - whatever that even is. 

The opening scene had been set so well, he doesn’t want to lose that energy. 

“Where are we going?” 

“I’ll set the scene,” Mobius says smoothly.

Casey kind of likes him. He’s never worked with Mobius much before at the TVA, but this version of him is really accommodating and easy to feed all the exposition into. 

“There’s been a series of spooky events up at the Renslayer Mansion. Lady Ravonna called us in to check it out.”

Loki considers the information carefully.

“And what exactly are the nature of these sinister events?”

“Define ‘spooky’,” Sylvie says with sarcastic quotation marks. 

“It means sinister or ghostly,” Loki peers over at her, incapable of not becoming a colossal know-it-all when the chance arises. “In a way that causes fear or unease.” 

Even Casey sighs at that needless remark. Swiftly, exasperation smothers the whole van.

There's being witty and then there's that. Just stop - stop already. Loki is responsible for half of the things tearing this dream apart, it's not cool. Not at all.

Fortunately, there's a person in this dream who seems to seamlessly smooth over all the blips. 

Mobius casts Loki a helplessly fond look before putting them back on the right track.

“The usual gig. Unexplained happenings, doors opening, missing things, footsteps. They think it’s the work of the Time-Keepers.”

“The Time-Keepers?” Casey asks. "What are they doing here?" 

Not that any of this matters. But seeing as he’s asleep and won’t be waking up for a while, he might as well see where this is going. 

“Yeah. About that,” Mobius continues with a really convenient explanation. 

Hey, thanks brain.

“See, that's just the overall alias for the trouble we're dealing with. Our story starts out with the Renslayer family. They've been making clocks and watches for hundreds of years. But the success soon started to tick-tock away-”

“Wait. Hold on a minute - I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Loki holds a hand up, interrupting the dream yet again for his own insatiable curiosity. Next time, Casey hopes he doesn't show up. It's annoying.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Not too sure actually," Mobius admits, a puzzled frown replacing the shadow of a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"It’s kind of just pouring out of me. But hey, hey - don’t stop my groove now. I might not get it back and that would really dampen the moment where we explain important stuff to the audience.”

That's Casey, presumably. He is both the audience and the auditor of this weirdness.

“Right. I see..."

Loki looks like he doesn't completely understand but guess what - it's not his dream. So he can stop hogging the attention get out the way. Casey has some fraction of control here.

"Do continue.”

Phew. 

“As I was saying, the Renslayer family were the head honchos in the time-keeping business. Still are, actually. But there was a scheme from a rival party - they vowed to take all the time-keeping for themselves. Almost did it too, until the leader mysteriously disappeared in a warehouse fire…”

Okay. 

As much as Casey is appreciating information delivered via dialogue format - that’s just plain vague.

Surely there’s something more interesting and tangible his brain can come up with for this. He's fabricated enough details for everything else.

“Is... is that it?” Casey asks. 

“Afraid so. But this leads us to what we're doing here. Someone is terrorising the Renslayer mansion. It's gotta be connected, I - I feel it.” 

The wind shrieks past the van, rocking them sideways. Casey shudders. This whole thing is formidable and frightening. 

Zoinks. 

“Do we uh, really have to go?” he implores, bordering desperation. “I mean, can’t somebody else do this?” 

Come on brain. Get him and Scoobs out of here. Only him and Scoobs. 

Everyone else can stay.  

“Nah. We’re all that’s left... we’re the last resort,” Mobius says, like that’s somehow a good thing and not at all worse. 

Aw, man. That means other people in this elaborate eccentric story have tried and failed to solve this mystery. That means the storm brewing above their heads is bubbling only in one direction:

Theirs.

Yeah. 

Casey really wants to wake up now. 

By the time they approach the Renslayer mansion, the organ music has tapered off into glassy harrowing strings. The pizzicato plucks not just at the atmosphere but Casey's skin, too. Goosebumps soon erupt over his arms.

"I still don't want to do this," he manages. "Neither does Scoobs."

From the grand oak doors of the mansion, Ravonna rushes forwards to greet them. She takes two steps at a time, which is a bit risky. The fretful expression dissolves the closer she gets.

“I’m glad you’re all here. Please, come inside.” 

The mansion is really cool. God job, brain. It has dramatic and kind of dumb hallways that go on for too long, draped with regal red carpets. There are clocks adorning almost every corner of each wall. So many of them. 

Big ones, small ones, some as big as people's heads. It's absurd.

For one jarring moment, Casey swears he sees a pair of eyes watching him from one of the clocks. A blink later, the antique's face is faceless.

Creepy. 

Thanks for that disturbing image.

“A grave mischief has consumed this place,” Ravonna explains in a hushed tone riddled with urgency. “It gets worse every night.” 

Mobius nods dilligently at the words, scanning their surroundings. Of course, nobody else gets the classic jumpscare. Typical.

They filter into the study, yet another well-furnished room. The notable absence of clocks puts Casey a little more at ease. Until the entire mansion seems to let out a long, suffering creak.

"What's that sound?" he says more rhythmically than he anticipates. Please don't let this become a musical, please. "Is someone moving around?"

"Sit down for a spell," Ravonna offers lyrically, gesturing to the couch parallel to her armchair. "You don't look so well..."

That's as far as the weird little teases of singing go. 

For now.

With meticulous shuffling, they manage to all squeeze on the couch. Unfortunately, that has everything to do with the fact Loki is basically a few inches from being in Mobius' lap.

This dream sucks.

Absently patting Loki's knee, Mobius addresses their rattled host.

“Walk us through the whole thing one more time, Ravonna.” 

"It's like I said on the phone," she starts, pouring whiskey into her glass. 

Just hers. Rude.

Just because she's possibly being haunted and her life is a tangerine or something doesn't mean manners have to go out the window. She could have offered the guests a drink.

As much as he doesn't feel like it, Casey is the maker of the dream. That makes him the most important person here.

"There's a scheme, and it's got everything to do with keeping time."

Outside, the thunder rumbles right on cue. Loki turns wistfully to observe the lightning that follows through the window. Casey doesn’t understand why. 

Back at the TVA, he's weirdly poignant when he thinks nobody is looking. There's a lot of stories there, some probably as much of a mess as this dream is.

An abrupt knock at the door has Casey yelping out in fright. Jeez - talk about timing. Scoobs is also startled, scurrying out of his arms and under the desk. 

“Come in,” Ravonna calls out. 

In enters a guy who kind of looks a bit like their own Loki. Only older, a slender silvery concoction born from sharp edges and jagged angles. The crinkles around his eyes might be from laughter, but there isn’t anything particularly joyful or fun about his disposition. As he smiles, the lines on his face cleave inwards and create striking shadows across skin. 

There’s something ghastly there.  

Casey thinks they should leave this place. Even if it’s just a dream, it’s creepy. This is all creepy. 

He's still thinking about the eyes, and how nobody else here seems to have theirs on the right kind of clock. 

There are only so many times Mobius can swing a subtle glance towards Loki. Yet still, it's inevitable. Like a pendulum ticking back and forth. 

Fated. 

“Professor Laufeyson,” Ravonna says with a strained smile, beckoning him into the room. 

As soon as he steps forwards, the lights flicker. Just for a second. But enough to be foreboding.

“Ah. Forgive me for the intrusion,” the Professor says. “I simply wished to bid my farewells before retiring for the evening.”

His eyes trail across the room, assessing each of them carefully. Casey does not like this at all. 

Those eyes. They look like the ones he saw in the hallway.

“And I see there is no need to fret. For you are now in capable hands.” 

“Yes, yes I am. Thank you for your help today.” Ravonna turns back to the group. “Professor Laufeyson has been repairing the grandfather clock in the ballroom. It was two seconds too fast.”

“And now I'm afraid it's three too late. Four at a push,” Professor Laufeyson says with a laugh.

It’s as shrill as an untuned piccolo and sends a shiver up Casey’s spine.

“But don’t be alarmed, I’ll set it all right soon. Everything will be under my watch.” His voice lowers, the lights dim in unison with the blatant shift in tone. 

“Very, very soon...” 

Well, okay then. 

That’s kind of super ominous.

Also, Casey doesn't see a watch anywhere on this person's wrist. What kind of metaphor even is that.

Casey has a feeling there’s more to this, a mystery that is not just mischievous. A tad malevolent, too.

Before he can dwell on it the Professor is gone. All of him slithering out of the room, like how a potent shadow retreats in the face of potential illumination. With a firm click, the door clicks shut.

In the Professor's absence, the lights regain their brightness. Nobody says a word about it. 

Casey can’t stand this brazen and biting tension. 

“Hey. Did um - did anyone else just see that thing with the lights just now?” he asks, because being the narrator and the main character kind of leaves a weird unexpected blindspot for everything else to blur around him.

“Yes, that was rather odd wasn’t it?” Loki admits. 

Gazing up at the chandelier, Mobius hums in consideration. 

“Yeah. Yeah, must be the storm… good thing we have torches back in The Mischief Machine.” 

“We better get a shift on,” Sylvie prompts. “The night won’t last forever.”

Gee, Casey sure hopes that's true. An eternal night sounds exactly like something a dream would do before transforming into a nightmare. 

He really needs someone at the TVA to speak to that department. They're so often out of line.  

Mobius leans over to press a consoling hand on Ravonna’s shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out Ravonna, don’t you worry.”

“Indeed!" Loki stands with glorious purpose.

There's not really any reason for him to strike such a grand pose, but it certainly adds to the whole scene.

"After all, our reputation precedes us. There’s no mischief that escapes our inscrutable detection.” 

“None at all,” Sylvie says with the coy tilt of her head, a little cocky.

The confidence is a good look, Casey wonders if he can borrow some of it later back at the TVA. Hunter B-15 always makes him flighty, and she did almost kill him. Would be nice to hold his ground more.

All eyes are trained on Casey, then. Expectantly of all things.

He doesn't get why, he just does the paperwork in inventory and sometimes interacts with other people. 

Offering assurances is not the nature of his role.

“Uh. I don’t really know why this is happening or what’s going on but…" 

Casey points towards the capricious cooks whipping up the worst broth and spilling it all over his dream.

"What - yeah. What they all said. That."

Just when Casey starts to think Mobius might be the true voice of reason in this whole dream sequence, he goes ahead and shatters the illusion. 

They're huddled together in one of the endless hallways, leaning close and arms wound around each other. 

Like a real team conspiring.

“Alright, gang,” Mobius whispers. “Let’s split up and search for clues.”

Casey hasn’t seen any horror movies before but he just knows in his gut that this is how they all descend into total disarray. This is how people die and get picked off like the best plates at a buffet.

Unfazed by the swell of his own inner anxiety, the dream continues smoothly.

“Loki, you’re with me.”

Called it.

Could this dream get any more predictable?

"He's always with you," Casey points out, pointedly. "Shouldn't we mix it up a bit?"

Mobius continues, as if electing to ignore the suggestion entirely is better than even addressing it. Casey deserves better than this. 

“Together, we’ll check out the armory. Sylvie, think you can handle the ballroom? Something about that grandfather clock is really making the old gears in me tick...”

The group branches out, arms going back to their respective sides. Well. All apart from one. 

Mobius shamelessly keeps Loki pressed to his side and-

Wait a second. Wait, wait, wait.

Everyone is walking away. In different directions. Without Casey - what the hell.

Over his shoulder, Mobius calls out the final order.

“Casey, Scoobs - you guys take the cellar!” 

At his feet, Scoobs gazes up with encouragement.

Great. 

The cellar in question is crawling with cobwebs and teeming with dust. So apparently, nobody ever cleans down here. But so far, there's nothing menacing creeping around the corners. Scoobs sits on his shoulder, tail flicking against his ears. 

Casey feels like he has been bestowed the highest honour.

A piercing scream floods the mansion, making everything awful again.

“What the heck was that?” he hisses. 

Scoobs mewls in response. 

“A scream. I know, I know. Okay. It’s fine. We’ll just head back and- and it’ll be totally fine.”

To be honest, Casey is glad to end his short-lived time in the cellar - even if it means heading towards the commotion. 

The others aren't far behind, spilling into the hallway that houses a slightly startled Ravonna.

Loki is holding a dagger he didn't have before, but that's a minor detail. A bigger more alarming detail is that he and Mobius look way too dishevelled considering they've only been gone for a handful of minutes.

“I was returning to my room when I felt something reach out and grab me. Just for a few seconds.”

Loki glances over at Sylvie. They seem to naturally click. Casey isn’t sure what that’s all about. 

“The grandfather clock?”

“Could be the grandfather clock.”

“Definitely the grandfather clock.”

Casey watches them with a pinch of envy. He actually wants to be more involved in the team.

This is his dream, he doesn't deserve this.

“Okay so our guy's on the clock and now so are we," Mobius starts, ambling down the hallway with impressive gusto. "Everyone to the ballroom. We gotta get there before this gets out of our hands. We don't want a strike past the hour."  

Okay - that was kind of clever, who is even writing these lines. Oh yeah, him. 

His brain is on fire tonight.

Now admittedly, Casey is not the biggest fan of running. Even in dreams, where it requires no real physical effort whatsoever. Loki seems to have a similar opinion, grumbling about the distance to reach their foe under his breath. 

Despite lagging a little behind, Mobius has no qualms with it so long as they make the destination in time.

In contrast, Sylvie and Ravonna are on it. They trek the distance like they were born to do this. Born to run. 

Casey wonders if a person like Sylvie really exists out there somewhere. She's too cool for him to come up with in his own mind. Too bruisingly real.

Back to the dream, anyway.

After a few more of those agonisingly long hallways, they arrive at the grand ballroom. So gothic. The towering ceiling is a marvel to behold, a balcony trailing around the whole room. 

There's a lot of gold and Casey wonders how much of it is real or just a flashy trick.

But also, which is really concerning, the whole place is empty. Eerily empty. More, it feels like a trap - the kind that jumps out and scares you when it's too late to do anything besides brace for impact. A few velvet chairs are scattered around the corners of the ballroom. 

The grandfather clock they've run all the way here for is nowhere in sight.

“This is weird…” Casey says, out loud this time.

Loki takes another cautious step into the room. Everyone has fallen into a cautious tiptoe behind him, stacked up like dominos against each other for safety. It's not their smartest move - they'll all go down together this way. 

But yeah. Clinging onto Loki, Casey kind of feels a bit better. This guy can gut people, he knows about fish.

That counts for something.

“Far worse than I feared."  

Casey would close his eyes and make it disappear but oh wait - he’s already asleep. None of this matters. Why is he even so invested - really.

“Jinkies, this is strange…” Sylvie remarks, tapping one of her gadgets and studying the readings intently from the back of the group.

“Well, yeah," Mobius murmurs, a little breathless from all the running. "It ain’t exactly home on the range.” 

Before the strange dialogue can continue - where is this even coming from, sounds more like that musical number again - the atmosphere shifts dramatically.

Oh no.

Electricity crackles around the edges of the room, climbing up the walls. The lights begin to flicker and yeah. There it is - in comes the organ music. 

There's no possible way for wind to be billowing through the room, but somehow it does. And because Casey's imagination is thriving, the doors to the ballroom suddenly slam shut.

Now, they are officially caged in the ensuing peril.

This is the kind of epic finale this nonsense deserves.

Then it happens.

From the balcony, their phantom menace appears - and it's a duel of the fates. The costume is every bit as absurd and ridiculous as it should be. A sequined masquerade mask covers their face. But that does nothing to mask their menacing intentions. 

And there, tucked behind them on the balcony, sits the clock.

Levitating in the air, an elaborate cape catches the wind that shouldn't even be here. Casey has to admit, the purple tuxedo is glittering and glorious - quite a fit for the ballroom.

"Alright, time to dance," Mobius says, voice barely audible above the brewing chaos. "Let's get this done. Fast, if possible."

"Quickstep or foxtrot?" Loki asks.

"Nah, I feel this is more of a jive."

"Fair enough."

Breaking from the easy verbal parrying, Loki swats at his shoulder in an attempt to shrug off the death-grip to his side.

"For heaven's sake, Casey. Get off me!"

The thing is, Casey tries. He really does. Only, his body apparently is frozen in misplaced fear. 

This is so dumb - it's a dream and he could probably shake himself awake if he really wanted to.

And yet.

"Um. I think I'm stuck..."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Loki snaps, as if this whole thing isn't the most ridiculous thing Casey has ever endured in his life.

Like Loki wasn't just being ridiculous wasting time to do that weird flirting thing with Mobius he always does on and off dreams. 

Hypocrite.

Finally brushing Casey off his shoulder, Loki takes a defensive stance. Beside him, Sylvie points to the balcony.

"I think he's using the power sockets from up there to charge his costume. It looks like he's wearing some sort of contraption to give the illusion of being full 'spooky'. Obviously, he can't really fly. Nobody can do that."

"Leave it to me," Loki announces, scrambling for the stairs.

"Um, guys what - what should I do?" Casey asks, a little miffed he's been shoved to the sidelines in his own dream.

Again. 

That's not how these things are supposed to work.

"I don't know. Watch Scoobs or something," Sylvie says dismissively, flicking rapidly through a series of complicated buttons on her gadget. "I'm kind of busy trying to save our asses from electrocution over here."

The piano puts it in C Minor, tinkling away unnoticed by everybody besides Casey. Okay. 

Something is starting here, a montage stirring itself awake. 

This sounds like a theme song moment - it's officially time to rumble.

Rolling up his sleeves, Casey picks up a chair.

Hey. Listen. Anything is possible in dreams. Maybe he can fight really well.

"I'll protect you lady - whose name I keep forgetting, sorry - whilst you get the super smart stuff I don't understand figured out!"

"Um, no thanks," Sylvie snorts. "Like you even could. Just protect yourself, moron!"

Wow. That cuts just as the same as Loki's dagger probably does.

People are so mean.

Things get shambolic from there. Mobius and Ravonna usher Sylvie behind the makeshift barricade of golden candlesticks. Yeah, it's not much. But it's something, a mere flicker of hope upon the waxen horizon.

Their esteemed phantom glides through the ballroom, throwing attacks at them with astounding finesse. This guy is super fancy - there's only one thing left to do.

"Take this, criminal!"

Casey throws the chair, only for it to land less than a foot from himself. 

Damn it. He really wanted powers or some cool ability in this dream. 

"Good to go!" Sylvie shouts. "I've disabled the charges, his attacks will start to weaken."

"Buckle up people, this is where things get ropy."

Mobius stands up from their lacklustre hiding spot, swinging the lasso vigorously and with remarkable skill. Where that actually came from, Casey doesn't know. Maybe he always had it tucked away somewhere. 

Dreams skip stuff out often. To be fair, Casey has had quite a lot of other stuff to focus on.

The phantom casts attention towards them, holding out a hand.

From the balcony, Loki cries out a frantic warning all too late.

“Mobius, look out!”

Oh, no. Come on, that's just cold.

As annoying as everyone is in this dream, there doesn't need to be gratuitous violence added to this eccentric adventure. Mobius keeps things swinging, unwavering in the face of an imminent hit.

Stupid. So stupid.

Loki steps away from the edge of the balcony, giving himself more leeway to do something really dumb but extremely cool. Steeling himself, he bounces on the spot and pushes the hair off his face. There's a jitteriness to his demeanour, but he doesn't stew in it.

Then, in one magnificent, majestic moment of glory, Loki leaps off the balcony to swing onto the giant chandelier.

See? You never quite know what he’s going to do. He’s so spontaneous. 

"For all time, always!" he shouts amidst a dramatic battle cry.

Things move in slow motion. 

This is revelry, this is a revelation. As the chandelier lurches towards the phantom, the shifting light sets Loki aglow. He's glorious. He's amazing.

Casey will never say a bad thing about him again. 

Like this, he is a valiant knight on a noble steed made of... well. Whatever chandeliers are made of.

Anyway, he's swooping in to stop danger in its tracks. He's dashing, daring.

Unspeakably and bizarrely heroic.

This is officially the most iconic dream sequence Casey has ever witnessed in his life. The background music his brain has supplied is totally included.

Time reverts back to that hurried pace as Loki leaps gracelessly off the chandelier, barrelling right into their phantom menace. They fall to the floor in a messy tangle, rolling across the ballroom.

Mobius tosses the lasso towards Ravonna, dropping all sense and reason to reach Loki who is sprawled out and unmoving.

Oh jeez.

Casey brandishes the chair again. Just in case he stands corrected and this isn't over. Things need to take a seat at this point.

Fortunately, they do. Sylvie and Ravonna apprehend the phantom, making swift work before he has a chance to regather any strength. 

The phantom’s struggle becomes more and more futile. That cool tech-savvy thing Sylvie did must have taken full effect by now.

Cool.

Nearby, Loki sits up slowly with a wince.

“You know, I didn’t actually think that would work..."

Mobius is crouched beside him, reverent and completely awestruck. Like gazing upon something sacred and special and really, really wholly good. Those eyes are basically making hearts. Oh yeah. Here it comes.

Casey should've expected this, it's been a while since they took over the entire dream.

Lush, budding strings swirl around their voices. The whole thing is so achingly tender when it has no business being so. 

Suddenly, everything hinges on this.

“Hey."

Loki looks hesitant, of all things. Unsure of himself in the face of a beautiful fate. 

"…Hi."

"So. You kind of just saved my life."

"I suppose I did."

“You jumped off the balcony, onto a chandelier.”

“I suppose I did that too.” 

“Yeah, yeah you did.” Mobius is practically swooning at this stage. "It was awesome.”

The violins sweep up, up and up into a nostalgic, romantic climax that melts the whole scene into something softer. Mobius dives forwards a little too eagerly, chasing after Loki's mouth. Neither of them seems to care much about the plot of the dream anymore. 

The kiss rivals the storm raging on outside the mansion, steeped with unyielding, burning intent. 

Okay. 

So that's happening, then.

"Oi!" Sylvie calls. "We're still on the clock here."

Sheepishly Mobius hoists Loki back onto his feet. They don’t let go of each other’s hands when they walk towards the others. Why won’t they let go. 

Gosh. 

It's obscene and it's not even real. 

Not until they're facing the apprehended mastermind do they both finally act kind of normal.

“How about we take a peek behind that mask...” Mobius says. 

Peeling it off reveals a disgruntled man with silver wisps of hair and calculating eyes. Jarringly familiar. Oh.

Oh no way.

It’s totally that guy from before in the study. It's-

“-Professor Laufeyson?!” everyone exclaims in perfect unison as if this is some kind of movie.

To be honest, it kind of is. Just in Casey’s mind. This has been quite the cinematic affair. 

What kind of person jumps off a balcony and swings from a chandelier to save their beau from an attack. Really. 

Loki has a knack for this, for being on the dream screen.

Anyway. This isn't about Loki. Well. It kind of is - but nobody ever tell him that, please.

“You!” Casey spits, pointing his finger in the criminal mastermind’s direction. “I knew it was you! I just knew it. I mean, you never even told us what you were a Professor of!”

“A remarkably astute observation. Nice work, Casey,” Loki admits, arms folded and the very epitome of effusive superiority. “If you’d care to enlighten us in your areas of expertise, Professor?” 

A mirthless smile stretches across the Professor’s face. 

“Fools!” he sneers. “You meddle in mischief, whereas I orchestrate the very fabrics of chaos. We are incomparable.” 

Gesturing to the outfit, Mobius stifles his amusement. Poorly.

“Gotta hand it to you, the costume is pretty neat. Everyone loves a cape. But you made one mistake here tonight and it cost you big time.” 

Pause.

The Professor waits. 

And waits some more.

Actually, they all do - hang on a minute.

Nobody speaks, suspended in a frame.

“Is this- are any of you going to fill this infernal silence?” the Professor asks, barely biting back frustration. 

“That depends. Um. Sorry, whose line is it now?” Loki glances over to Casey, eyebrow quirked. 

Oh. Oh yeah.

That’s kind of Casey’s job to fill in the gaps. Nice job, brain. 

“I'll take that as my cue,” Mobius chimes in, adjusting his tie. 

He walks towards Professor Laufeyson, poking a firm finger in his face. The righteous brass section rises up to meet this blazing moment of victory. 

“Nothing gets past us. We’re the ultimate combo, the supreme team. We’re - well. We're mischief incorporated.” 

“Mischief incarnate, if you will,” Loki adds without missing a beat, glowing with pride at whatever he thinks Mobius is doing. 

Scoffing, Professor Laufeyson struggles against the restraints of the lasso. 

“You in all your ineptitude hardly concern me.” 

Blinking back visible irritation, Loki barks out an incredulous laugh.

“Ineptitude - I’m sorry, are you or are you not currently under our capture?”

He has a point there.

“Alright, enough. Time’s up, shiny shoes." Snapping his fingers, Mobius whistles. "Honkety-honk - take him back to clown town.”

Hunter B-15 - wow, where did she come from - drags the Professor down the hallway with Ravonna. This procession of shame cements defeat.

Bellowing over his shoulder, the Professor seethes. There’s a crazed expression in his eyes. 

“I would’ve gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling miscreants.”

Pause.

Scoobs winks, which is weird because Scoobs is a cat, winding through Casey's feet.

“And that felicitous feline!” 

Casey jolts awake to a deserted, distressingly quiet office. The main lights overhead are dimmed, creating more shadows where there shouldn't be. 

Aw, jeez. 

He slept through closing time and not a soul thought to wake him when the night guards took over.

So mean.

Rubbing his forehead, memories of the terrible dream creep back into focus.

"What the hell even was that?" Casey grumbles, using the table as leverage to stand.

To be honest, it's going to take a long time to shake this whole thing off. Really, it's too much.

Hushed voices grow gradually louder, startling Casey back into action. He ducks behind his desk, peeking over the top. 

Oh great. Just great.

It's them again. 

It always has to be them.

Mobius and Loki shuffle into view through the office, looking incredibly shifty. Like they are sneaking around and up to absolutely no good. Or at least Loki is and somehow he's managed to coerce his partner into doing the same.

There will never be peace, never again. This is it - the end of all things.

These two have ruined every shred of anything remotely nice for Casey.

He can still hear their voices from the dream, still remembers what they did.

If Casey never sees a chandelier in his life again, he wouldn’t mind that. 

“Loki,” Mobius says under his breath, voice soft yet stern. “This is a seriously bad idea, we should not be doing this.”

“Oh come on!" Loki hisses back, a gleeful smile on his face nobody should probably trust. "The work was growing tedious, this is just a little bit of harmless delectation. Haven’t you ever broken into anywhere before?”

Why. Just why. 

Casey presses his forehead against the top of the table, weary and weathered.

“No, no, no that’s where you’re wrong. This is not fun!" Mobius at least has enough resolve to challenge him back. Even if it's fleeting and never really lasts. "This - this is going to get us in trouble and you know it.”

Scoffing, Loki leaps up onto one of the tables. In the process, he carelessly knocks over D-28's paperwork.

Ha. Casey never liked that guy.

Good.

“Fine. Be boring, then. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, really?" 

Mobius cranes closer, struggling to still look annoyed. See, he always caves. 

"Who else is gonna kiss you silly behind the archives and hide in the closet with you from Ravonna? The tesseract?”

Wow, okay. 

So they’re like together in real life too, then.

Casey wishes he placed a bet now - nobody else came anywhere close to guessing the timeline correctly.

Loki tugs playfully on Mobius' tie, eyes gleaming brighter than the infinity stones in Casey's drawer.

“Now not a word of this to the tesseract, but I’d much prefer it be you.” 

This time there are no violins, but the moment hardly needs it. They’ve got this covered all by themselves. That's a problem, though.

Together, they're far too powerful.

Casey jolts up from the desk, pointing an accusing finger towards these weirdos that ruin everything all the time.

Everywhere they go. All the time.  

“Hey! You - you two!” 

Mobius and Loki freeze. Slowly, Loki slides off the desk. Neither of them appears particularly thrilled about being interrupted.

Tough. Casey never asked them to hijack his dream.

Look what happened.

“Casey, what are you still doing out here?” Loki asks, bewilderment barely surpassing frustration.

“It's a long story... I don't really know where to start to be honest.”

No, no.

He’s not supposed to be nice or accommodating with this. 

Mustering his meanest look, Casey cocks his head. He thinks of the gut-you-like-a-fish expression, channels that as best he can.

“Just - you both keep out of my head.” Pause. He sucks in a sharp breath. “And get out of my life!” 

Loki blinks. Perpetual confusion plagues his face. 

“I beg your pardon, don't you think that's rather dramatic?” 

That's it. The catalyst. He has the gall to speak of dramatics. 

Composure faltering, Casey sighs.

“No. Not really! I kind of hate you guys right now. You don’t know the things I’ve seen, the things I've just been through. Solving mysteries, old spooky mansions, you swinging wildly from chandeliers, weird faces on clocks… and - and you two being like this all the time! Everywhere. And oh yeah, the really cool lady."

“What?" Mobius frowns. "What lady?”

“Casey," Loki clips sharply. "What madness are you wittering on about? I’m afraid we're not following.”

“Just-” 

Ugh. Jeez. They're so annoying. Casey groans, his head hurts.

“Leave me alone.” 

Mobius and Loki stare blankly at him. The worst part is they’re not even really facing him at all anymore. Their bodies are bowed in each other’s direction, like there’s no other way to exist. 

There is, for the record. Everyone knows there is.

“Hey. Hey, Casey. What's going on with you?” Mobius asks, a tad concerned. “This attitude of yours feels real misdirected.”

If only they knew. It's exactly where it needs to be.

Leaning, Loki speaks against Mobius' ear. Well. Into it. But really, what's the difference at this point.

“Mobius, I’m not sure what the problem is. But it certainly isn’t ours and we’ve got quite enough of our own already to unravel. So-”

Nudging into Mobius’ side, Loki grins. 

“Shall we?”

Casey literally sees the final dregs of interest towards anything besides Loki dwindle out of the man in a rapid heartbeat. 

It's kind of amazing to watch the sensible, reasonable part of him sink so fast.

“You know," Mobius shakes his head but it isn't in dismay. More, fond disbelief. "You’re only ever charming exactly when you’re not supposed to be. But darn it - it’s really distracting.” 

Loki preens under the compliment. He's thriving.

“If it’s distractions you’re after, my dearest Mobius, then look no further."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, you win." Mobius grabs Loki's shoulders, steering him forwards. "Let's go, let's go, let's go, come on."

They fall into a giddy step, slipping further into obscurity.

"Oh." Mobius comes to a brief standstill. "I guess we'll see you later, Casey. Or not. Kinda preoccupied here. Sorry."

Unbelievable.

"If anyone asks, you never saw us!" Loki calls, not bothering to look over his shoulder because that would mean breaking the ridiculous reverie the pair of them have created.

Casey watches them scramble off through the TVA corridors. 

So there’s another thing Casey can be sure of both in and out of dreamland.

Number four: Loki and Mobius are totally in love.

Duh.