Tony's Adventures In Writing

Where I write about things and things.

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Hurricane (Chapter 2)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Original Characters, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: R (Sexual References, Language, Intense Violence)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Hurricane” by 30 Seconds to Mars. Hence the chapter titles as well. Sequel/prequel to Lights, detailing Tasedio’s backstory.

Summary: He’s a tropical storm, forged by the skies and shaped by the world in order to bring the humans to their knees. A force of nature, uncontrollable, he destroys everything in his path. He existed before them and will exist when they are gone. He is everlasting and unstoppable.

But he doesn’t want this. He never wanted this.

Chapter 2: No matter how many breaths that you took you still couldn't breathe

“Tasedio, they are everywhere.”

Atusiel sounded more exasperated than usual. “Hm?” he asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. This was a fine way to wake up: Atu already bitching at him at something he’d done. Wonderful. This was going to be a splendid day. He sighed to himself and blinked away the sleep. “What are you on about?”

“The humans. They’re a species now. They’ve reproduced past anything you could’ve anticipated and now they’re everywhere.”

“And you can control them, as you’ve found out during your experiments on the poor things. Just manipulate them, as you are wont to do, and let me go back to sleep.” He flopped back down and rolled over, mashing his face definitively into his bed. But Atusiel didn’t leave, despite Tasedio’s obvious lack of enthusiasm.

“They are driving us out of our home. That is the point I have been trying to make. They are everywhere and they are spreading. I can force them back for a while, but they will continue to reproduce and spread until they eventually run out of room. As I speak they are settling in our area. We will need to leave. They are xenophobic. Until we can appear as them, until we have sufficiently observed them, we must keep our distance. If we do not, they will surely imprison us.”

“Are you quite serious?” Tasedio asked, finally sitting up again and paying attention. “How would they imprison us? We are more powerful than they are. They could not hope to stand a chance.” Atusiel shook his head, turning toward the door.

“They have something we do not, something we will never have. They have numbers, and no matter how powerful we are, they may still overcome us.”

“Wait.” 

Atusiel stopped, turning back to face Tasedio. “What?”

There was a bit of a shake in his voice when he spoke. “Are we splitting up?”

It was then, for the first time, that Atusiel could not bear to face his fellow. “Yes,” he said, his voice low. “There is no other way. We may be able to meet up in the future, once we have learned how to blend in, but until then we must separate.”

“Then I’m sorry that I could never stop annoying you,” Tasedio replied, and threw his arms around his friend, squeezing as hard as he could manage for a few seconds before letting go. “Goodbye, Atu.”

Then he ran.

  Tasedio was, naturally, the first to discover the most terrifying and dangerous thing about the humans. Posurin had been keeping them in touch with one another so they could know what was going on with relative ease. All the rest of them seemed to be much closer together physically, but that was neither here nor there—Tasedio had always been a bit of a loner, and it didn’t matter at the current time anyway. In fact, Tasedio was glad no one else was around. That way, no one could make fun of him when he was inevitably enslaved or killed. He wasn’t sure the humans could kill him, but if they could, he was sure they would find a way.

It had started out rather innocently, with him approaching a small group of people and trying to understand their customs and traditions. It had been several hundred years since he’d last had contact with them, and he wanted to know how they’d grown. He’d introduced himself, as had they, and then it had hit him like a sack of bricks. They invited him to do things, things he didn’t really want to do, but when they said his name, it sounded so exquisite and euphoric in ways it never had with his fellows that he couldn’t disagree. It was much like dealing with Atusiel when he used his abilities—the only answer was thoughtless compliance. Resistance was painful and ultimately futile, and they both made taking orders feel much better than it should’ve. This frustrated Tasedio, though he couldn’t call out for help from Posurin since his mind was currently being commandeered.

“You are very agreeable, Tasedio,” one of them said, and he nodded. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn’t intended to be a command, but that didn’t matter right now. It was getting to the point where he didn’t mind taking orders from them. Every time he obeyed them, he got a rush of pleasure, and leaving or contacting the others would certainly stop that. Nothing truly bad had come of it so far, so why not continue?

“Where are you from? Tell us of your origin, of your lands.”

There was the kicker.

“I- I can’t,” he stammered, grinning and backing up a bit with his hands up in a gesture of peace. “You wouldn’t know them, very far away…” He took the moment of pause to send out a distress signal to Posurin, a call for help. “Very strange.”

“Oh, but they sound so interesting! You must tell us all about them, Tasedio!” they exclaimed, and another wave of pleasure silenced his mind instantly. It was peaceful in his mind, quiet, empty. Surely no harm could come of telling them about his people. He had to tell them. There was no choice.

“Well, the first was—“

“Tasedio!” a voice shouted, and this time it didn’t make him feel compliant in the slightest. This was strange considering the person it was coming from. “What are you doing here? We’ve been worried about you.”

The trickster very nearly addressed his former companion by his full name, but stopped himself before he did so. “Atu,” he said, “it’s good to see you again. These are just some people I’ve been talking to. They were just asking about you, actually.”

“And did you tell them anything?” he asked, giving Tasedio an accusatory look. 

“No. I’d just started when you arrived.” He scratched his head sheepishly, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “They’re, ah…” He swallowed, nervous. “Persuasive. Like you, a bit. More than a bit, really.”

Atusiel’s eyebrows shot up as he took Tasedio by the wrist. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Look, I’d love to,” Tasedio replied, “but I, uh… I can’t. They won’t let me.”

“Won’t let you?” Atusiel scoffed, turning up his nose. “That is possibly the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard for not leaving.”

It was about at this point that the humans decided to speak up. “But he can’t leave,” one said, a female youth. “He’s only just showed up, and we were having fun. Weren’t we, Tasedio?” He’d never felt so much regret in his life as he felt the compliance wash over him, forcing him to nod in front of Atusiel.

“Yes,” he said, his voice flat. “I can’t leave.” Atusiel tugged at his wrist again, but this time he moved even less than before, frozen in place by the half-command given to him by the young girl.

“Come on,” Atu growled under his breath, but Tasedio only gave him a blank stare in response. Sighing, he focused for a moment, then looked back at his companion. “We are leaving,” he restated, his voice suddenly compelling, “right now.”

Something cracked inside of Tasedio. The conflict of commands both required him to move and would not allow him to, and they must have been about equal in strength for he could not let either dominate him. He felt as if he were detached from his body, watching his own eyes turn glassy and a slight, crazed smile break out on his face as he froze in place. He was definitely not experiencing this. Atusiel grabbed his body’s wrist and tugged again, and his whole body seemed to go limp and collapse. He was still frighteningly aware of everything around him, but he wasn’t able to communicate with his body, nor was he apparently able to stand. He watched as Atusiel apologized to the group, then slung the limp body over his shoulder and struggled his way back to his own tiny camp.

Putting Tasedio’s body down on his own bed, Atusiel then got to work trying to awaken him. “Are you in there?” he asked, and Tasedio wanted to say that he was, but couldn’t seem to connect his words to his throat. The manipulator started to panic, his eyes wide as he shook his former companion. “Get up, Tasedio. Get up. You have to. They’re going to think I killed you.” Mentally, Tasedio narrowed his eyes. He’d known Atusiel to be callous, but not this much. The other did look worried, though. Clearing his throat, he finally seemed to get an idea. “Obey me, and only me.” Tasedio blinked once, twice, then shuddered. 

“I don’t want to,” he replied, his voice small. He was resisting more than he’d ever been able to, but still wasn’t able to stop himself from letting out a small whimper of fear. “Please don’t force me to.” It was astounding, though, that such a command had thrown him back into the moment faster than he could’ve anticipated.

Atusiel reached out to him, shushing him and stroking his hair, his voice retaining its odd, soothing quality. “It’s alright, Tasedio. I’m not going to harm you. The others have abandoned you, besides. Arasen could’ve come to save you much easier than I, but she chose to leave you to the humans. She doesn’t care about you. She is allying more strongly with Posurin, besides. They are becoming a… a bit of a thing. They’ve kissed now.” Tasedio didn’t question any of what Atusiel was telling him. He’d started out with something that made sense, gained Tas’ trust, and now he couldn’t help it. Rage and pain festered in his chest, and he held back his emotions as he sat up.  “I aided you, and I will help you more than they ever could,” Atusiel continued. “Just give me your mind and I will make certain that you are safe. I will make it alright.”

“You promise?” Tasedio asked, looking at his companion with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You won’t let me get into danger like that again?”

“They can’t control you using your name if you’ll only obey me, Tasedio,” Atusiel replied with a laugh, ruffling his hair. “I’m not forcing you to, but I think you and I would both be much better off if you did join me.”

“One last question,” he said as Atu continued to smile at him. “Where’s Lanadel?”

Atusiel shook his head. “Off somewhere. We were supposed to split up, you know. Posurin and Arasen didn’t listen, but the rest of us did and we haven’t come across each other much since then. Posurin won’t tell me her exact location, of course, so I haven’t been able to talk to her in private. The only reason he disclosed yours was because he wanted to keep you away from him and knew I wouldn’t go near him. But we’re going to confront him, Tasedio, if that is what you wish, and if you give me control.”

“Yes,” Tasedio murmured, nodding. “I want to confront them about this. If Arasen doesn’t like me…” He swallowed, his face twisting with grief. “Then I suppose that’s fine. But I’d rather she tell me to my face, rather than lead me on like she’s done and then do… this.” Looking up, he made eye contact with Atusiel and sighed. “Just do it. Take this pain away.”

“Wonderful,” replied Atusiel.

  Life had never been so simple, so peaceful for Tasedio in all his memory.

For the next few days, he would just wake up and talk to Atusiel about what they planned to do, about what they’d do after that, about themselves, about everything they could think of. They just sat and talked and ate and relaxed so they’d be in good shape for what they were about to do. It was very nice after having been on the move for so long. Tasedio didn’t like running anymore. Staying here where it was calm and quiet seemed like a much better idea. If he wanted to curl up in a ball and just sleep all day, Atusiel didn’t stop him. If he wanted to go out of the camp, he was only asked to be back as soon as he could. Being controlled was so much more freeing than he’d ever imagined it would be. All of the important decisions were made for him, so he never had to worry.

It must’ve been the others, Tasedio thought. Atusiel was so calm and non-confrontational. But then, perhaps, it might’ve been him that had been at fault. Now that he was safe and under Atusiel’s control, he was much more agreeable. He wasn’t sure what had been so wrong with him before that he’d always argued with everyone. It didn’t matter now, though. The others were the ones causing problems, not him. All he needed to do was follow Atusiel’s directions, and everything would be alright.

But here they were now, confronting Arasen. She was playing dumb, pretending she didn’t know what they were talking about. The rage burned in Tasedio’s eyes as he spoke. “I know you don’t love me, but you could’ve at least said it to my face,” he growled, walking toward her. She would always glance back, as if to make sure she still had somewhere to go if she could no longer handle it. 

Tasedio thought that was funny. Of course she’d run away. That was all she ever did.

“Who told you that?” she asked, obviously feigning her sorrow. “Was it Atusiel? You know he lies and manipulates! That’s all he’s ever done! Why would you let yourself fall to him? You’re not stupid, Tas.”

“Silence!” he demanded, his voice rising. “He helped me when you wouldn’t. You and Posurin would’ve left me at the mercy of the humans! You would’ve let them have their way with me, no matter what that was! I could’ve been enslaved for life and you wouldn’t have thought to aid me!”

“You are enslaved!” she shouted back. “Atusiel’s got you in his grip and you don’t even realize it! I was the one who brought him over there in the first place! The camp he took you to was mine! I was going to bring you out, but he insisted that he be the one to get you out of there and wouldn’t let me follow. Then he kicked me out of my own damn camp and made me live in his!” She stepped forward, holding Tasedio’s face and making sure he didn’t look away. “Please listen to me. I love you, but I don’t love you so much that I won’t leave you if you’ve decided to side with that asshole. I’m not going to get with Posurin, because we’ve never been more than friends. I’d hate to be your enemy, but if you’re going to be a twit, I don’t have a choice.”

Tasedio bit his lip. “I don’t know. Do you… do you have any idea how good this feels?” His breath was shaky as he let it out, then drew in another slowly. “Not arguing with you. Being controlled, not having to make your own decisions. It’s very soothing. I feel like I’m a better person like this.” Cracking a weak smile, he continued. “I don’t want to get on your bad side, Ara. You’re too close to me for that to be desirable. But this is who I am now, at least for now. I am the Trickster, ever-changing. Don’t expect this to last too long.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he felt a sting in his mind. Clutching his forehead, he sank to the ground. Things had been getting murky, but they were clearing up again. He shook his head, sitting up and looking at Arasen. “So I’m guessing this means you’re not with us. Ugh. I hardly remember anything that’s just happened. Did we talk about Posurin? That was something I definitely wanted to discuss with you.”

But Arasen wasn’t paying attention. “Atusiel!” she shouted, running around the area. “Atusiel, you coward, show yourself! Can’t you see what you’re doing to him?” 

Tasedio was confused. Surely they’d just been talking about her abandoning him? “What are you talking about?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her as he remained on the ground. “I’m fine.” 

She ignored him, running around as if frantic. “I’ll make you wish you could die!” she shouted, and Tasedio felt a presence at his back.

“We should go,” whispered Atusiel. “I feel she’s very… angry. Perhaps she feels the pain you felt when she betrayed you.”

“I hope so,” Tasedio replied with a nod. “Maybe then when she has remorse for it, we can be friends again.”

Atusiel took a breath, as if to speak, then shook his head and looked down. “Yes. Perhaps.” He took Tasedio by the wrist, leading him out of the clearing. Tas was quite intrigued that Arasen didn’t seem to notice that the man she was looking for was right in plain sight the whole time. Perhaps Atu had used his cleverness and his powers to evade her perception, he thought.

It was some time before he spoke with any of the others again. He and Atusiel spend a great deal of time together, with Atusiel learning nearly all there was to learn about Tasedio. What he liked, what he didn’t like… Everything was open to him, and Tas was happy to provide him with the information. He talked about how he didn’t like being so naïve, so easy to manipulate. He always seemed to think that people had the best intentions, and they exploited him so much, and it upset him. He was grateful that Atusiel wasn’t treating him like this, and he said so, but when he did, Atu seemed to look a bit sad. So he changed topics.

They conversed at great length for a very long time until one day, Atusiel went missing. He wasn’t sure why or how, only that he felt strangely hollow without anyone around to command him. So he sat and waited for Atusiel to return. He was waiting maybe three days when he fell unconscious in the middle of the day without warning. When he woke, he was restrained and facing Arasen. Panic coursed through his system as he wondered what they were going to do to him, to Atusiel.

“Well, this was unexpected,” he said, pretending to brush it off. “I knew you had some sort of plans to get rid of me. Go ahead. Do your worst. I won’t tell you where Atusiel is, I don’t know.” Mentally, he tried to contact him, but to no avail—Posurin was paying attention to what was being communicated, and stopped it dead before it reached its intended target.

“You idiot.” Arasen buried her face in her hands. “We’re going to break his hold on you. Now hold still.”

Tasedio, of course, did not want to hold still. He squirmed and thrashed, but something held him in place very tightly. As Atusiel and a small girl were brought into the room, he grew more and more confused. “You were the ones who took him?” he asked. “How’d you get him to stay docile and not come find me? Whenever humans got close, he’d ask me to get rid of them. I assumed he’d do the same for you.”

“He almost did,” Arasen replied. “We stopped him from contacting you. It did take us a while to get him completely under control where he wouldn’t be trying to manipulate us, but when we got it, we took you here so that we could fix things.”

“Who’s we,” Tasedio asked, “and why are you doing this? We were working just fine.”

Arasen rolled her eyes and ignored the first question. “Allowing Atusiel to enslave one of us is just wrong. We all agreed that letting you go was the right thing to do. Well, except Lanadel, but I haven’t seen her in ages. Posurin knows where she is, but he says she doesn’t want to be disturbed. Needs some private time, I guess.” Sighing, she circled around to Tasedio’s other side. “Now then.” She looked over at the little girl and nodded, then stepped back.

The girl seemed like she was quite young, and it disgusted Tasedio that they would use a child that doesn’t know what it’s saying yet in order to use Atusiel in that way. “Atusiel,” she said, her voice small and hopeful. As she did, Atu’s expression went from one of fear and bitterness to the purest calm Tasedio had ever seen on someone’s face. He knew that feeling. He couldn’t blame Atu for succumbing so quickly, either. He’d done the same thing. “Please release Tas from your control.”

Tasedio noted, very quickly, that she hadn’t used his whole name—probably on purpose, considering the power it had—just before he realized what the little girl was saying. Squirming, he tried to escape his seat, but he was still held tight even as Atusiel said something he didn’t quite listen to.

Then all of it just stopped. His desire to get away, his ties to Atu, his bitterness toward Arasen and Posurin—all of it faded as he sat and blinked. “What just happened?” he asked, looking between his two companions that were present and the girl. “Arasen? What’s going on? Where are we?” He felt dizzy.

“Are you okay?” She seemed concerned.

Tasedio blinked. “Ask me again when the room stops spinning.”

Arasen put her hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me, Tas,” she said, shaking him a bit. “You’re free now. You don’t have to listen to Atusiel.”

Frowning, Tasedio focused on her. “I did want it, though, Ara,” he said under his breath. “I need safety right now, security, company. I can’t be alone to make my own decisions. I’ve only gotten into trouble while I was alone. Please don’t make him leave. I don’t think I can do this, not yet.”

Arasen sighed as her hands travelled down his arms and rubbed them softly, trying to comfort him. “Shh,” she intoned, her voice similarly small. “I’ll stay with you if you need someone around. I can hang around and tell you what to do if you can’t function on your own.”

He smiled, nodding. “Please do. I’m sorry this happened, that I let myself succumb to him. I’d really like to spend more time around you. I’ll go wherever you want. It’ll be like an adventure.”

“Yeah.” She stepped around him, and he felt his bindings release. “I need to talk to Lanadel, and she doesn’t want anyone else’s input but mine. Obviously Posurin is going to hear too, so I don’t think she’ll mind if you listen, but you can’t engage in the conversation. I’m not sure she wants to see anyone else right now. I don’t know, I’ll have a chat with her. That’s not for a little while, though. Let’s get out of here first.” Arasen took his hand as he stood, and before he could blink, they were gone, off to their new destination.

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Hurricane (Chapter 1)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Original Characters, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: R (Sexual References, Language, Intense Violence)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Hurricane” by 30 Seconds to Mars. Hence the chapter titles as well. Sequel/prequel to Lights, detailing Tasedio's backstory.

Summary: He’s a tropical storm, forged by the skies and shaped by the world in order to bring the humans to their knees. A force of nature, uncontrollable, he destroys everything in his path. He existed before them and will exist when they are gone. He is everlasting and unstoppable.

But he doesn’t want this. He never wanted this.

Chapter 1: No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

Eventually, he decides it’s alright for you to take a look into his mind. He trusts you fully. You don’t quite know why, but you don’t feel it necessary to ask questions. You’ll take what you can get. So he sits you down one day on the couch, doing nothing but sitting motionless and making eye contact. His eyes are as beautiful as ever. Something probes into your mind, feels you out, and tugs at you a little. You decide to let it take you where it will.

He allows you free reign. You can see whatever you’d like. Ever the curious one, you venture into the darkest recesses of his brain, exploring his deepest secrets and guarded weaknesses. You find one thing in particular that you’d like to see in full—his life before you. His full life before you. He’s not sure whether he wants to relive it or not, but he trusts you, so he allows you access, and his life story starts playing out like a movie before your eyes. He’s only told you so much of his past, and now you’re going to be able to see it all happen.

You decide this is for the better.

  In the beginning, there were seven.

The first to be created was Roanah, the Warrior. Roanah was large, larger than any that were to come. He was very strong, quick despite his bulk, and had a supernatural endurance. If death were to come, it would only come in the night while he was asleep. He was quite handsome, though no one was around to see.

Second came Atusiel, the Commander. Atusiel was intelligent, self-assured, and had a way with words. His grasp of language allowed him to weave inescapable webs with his words, so that if he were to speak, and one were to listen, they could not disobey him. His voice commanded compliance, and he used this often to get what he wished. He and Roanah did not get along particularly well, as Roanah’s intellect did not match up to Atusiel’s, and Atusiel thought of him as a brute who was only capable of smashing things to get what he wanted.

And so the third was created, Posurin, the Mediator. Posurin was very good at mediating due to his ability to read minds and thus see both sides of the situation. He was a wonder with creating and telling stories, as well, and used that as a method of calming the two and keeping them from eventually trying to kill one another.

The fourth was Lanadel, the Beauty. Gorgeous, but unable to bear children, it was said that her body produced a smell so divine that none could resist her were she to make the move. Atusiel proved this very well on his own, becoming almost instantly smitten with her because of their similar powers concerning the manipulation of the mind. With Atusiel spending more time with Lanadel, he spent less time fighting Roanah, and for some time there was peace. 

Fifth was Hirese, the Seer. Hirese did not stir things up much, since he mostly kept to himself and his visions of the future. He predicted that there were two more to come, and that the appearance of the seventh would breed chaos in the group, eventually splitting them apart so wholly that they would never be fully reunited again. So, naturally, the others were rather anxious when the sixth appeared.

This was Arasen, the Runner. Arasen could transport herself over long distances in the blink of an eye with very little effort. She was very non-confrontational, trying not to start a fight with anyone in the group and fleeing when anyone (usually Lanadel and Atusiel) tried to speak badly with her. Intimidated by the older ones, she had little interaction with the group at all until the arrival of the seventh.

The seventh and final of the Original Seven was Tasedio, the Trickster, with whom the story begins.

  The first thing he remembered was the fall, seeing the sky rush further and further away from him as he held a hand up outstretched toward the heavens, as if he’d been thrown out of the clouds toward the earth and he hadn’t wanted to leave. He wasn’t falling straight down, though. He was falling at an angle, as if he actually had been thrown. But he couldn’t recall how he’d started falling, and there was no way of knowing what would happen next.

He collided with the ground several seconds later, his nerves set ablaze with pain and several of his bones snapping like twigs, throwing up clods of dirt as he skidded to a stop in the middle of a forest. For a while, he simply lay there, groaning to himself and trying his hardest to pop his neck back into place. Every muscle in his body that he could still feel was shaking, every bone aching. So rather than trying to get up, he closed his eyes and decided to wait for a while. There was no rush. He didn’t expect anyone else was around here, wherever ‘here’ was. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here, to be frank. He supposed he’d have to find out later, when the pain decided to stop.

It was several minutes later when he heard shouting coming near him that he decided it might be a good idea to get up, though try as he might he found he was unable. Might have had something to do with his neck being out of place, he thought. Someone more fragile might’ve died. As it stood, he was merely unable to move. So he stared up at the sky for a while longer, a strange sense of longing in his heart.

The first other person he saw was her, beautiful and smiling even as his broken, dirty body lay unmoving on the ground. “I’ve found him,” she said, waving over someone else. “I’ve found Tasedio.” How on earth could she know his name, he wondered? He’d never seen her before in his life. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him up, his body going limp in her arms. She groaned. “Oh, he’s snapped his neck. Roanah, is there anything you can do about that?”

A voice spoke up from behind him now, deeper and a bit louder despite being further away. “Of course, my friend,” and then there was another explosion of pain at the base of his neck as something impacted it from behind. After the heat died down, he found himself regaining feeling in the rest of his body, moving his fingers and soon his arms and legs. The woman let him down with a smile, and he smiled back. It seemed appropriate. 

“Thank you,” he said, looking at her and turning to find the one that had hit him enough to pop his neck back. There was a larger man than he standing a few feet away from him, smiling as well under his bushy moustache. “Both of you.” The woman nodded, taking his hand and walking over to the other man. He followed, walking along with her in silence for almost half a minute before she spoke up again.

“I’m Arasen,” she started, “this is Roanah, and you’re Tasedio. We’re like you. We don’t know where we came from, just that we fell from the sky one day and there were others that had done the same. We’re not like animals, because whenever we injure ourselves it heals as long as it’s got the ability to do so, but we don’t know what that makes us. We remember that whatever we were before, we didn’t have to eat or sleep then. Now we do. We’ve each got unique abilities, and we have no idea where we’re going. That’s the basic idea, I think. Did I miss anything, Ro?”

The large man nodded. “He’s the last one. There are no more of us.” Tasedio blinked, looking over at him, but he did not continue his statement.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. “I’m the last one… of you? How do you know?”

Arasen smiled at him, and that made him feel a little more at ease. “There’s seven of us, you see. Hirese can see the future, so he knew that you were going to be coming today. We’ve all got special abilities, though I don’t think he knows what yours were going to be. He only gets general ideas about the future, so he can’t interfere with it. Do you have any idea what you can do?”

Shaking his head, Tasedio looked up at the sky. “No idea. I just fell, and I’ve got no idea what I can do or how to do it. Sorry.”

“No, that’s alright.” Arasen’s smile widened. “I’m sure Atusiel can figure it out. That’s how we’ve been finding all of ours—he perfected his, so he’s using it to help us. He’s not always the nicest guy, but I think he’s trying and that’s what matters right now, especially since we just found you. We’re all going to have to get very used to each other for a while, I think.” Tasedio gave her a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow in confusion. She blinked at him in equal befuddlement, then said, “Oh. Right. We can’t die. You do know what death is, right?” He nodded, which made her smile. “That’s good. From what I hear, Lanadel didn’t when she first started out. I think we all forgot something important when we fell. And I’m pretty sure Hirese mentioned that yours would be your name, so I told you right off the bat. I don’t know what I’ve forgotten, though. I mean, it’d have to have been brought up for me to realize it.” She shrugged. “Shouldn’t be long before we get there.”

“I see it now,” Roanah said, pointing to a clearing ahead of them. “Should only take a little longer.” There were people moving around, though how many Tasedio couldn’t tell. “We can talk to Atusiel once we get there. I believe he stayed behind with Posurin so they could attend to him—“ here, he gestured at Tasedio— “once we found him. And so Pos could let everyone know they could come back since he’d been found. Can’t believe we did this soon.”

“Yeah, it is a bit weird, isn’t it?” Arasen remarked, blinking. “All the rest of us were a lot harder to find. I remember I must’ve been lying there for a day and a half before any of you could find me. But we watched you drop right out of the sky.” Here, Tasedio looked back up toward the sky, and Arasen laughed. “I know, it’s a little weird to feel so nostalgic about the sky. The longing will only last maybe ten or twenty years, though. Sounds like a long time, but it really isn’t when you don’t die. Roanah here’s been alive for… what, three hundred years now?”

“Two hundred eighty-nine,” he responded. “We’re here.”

The clearing was not particularly decorative, especially considering several people seemed to live there. There was a fire pit in the center, and a few crude-looking huts built around it, obviously made for no more than two people each. He supposed he’d have to build his own. In the central area near the fire pit, there were two dark-haired men, one with a thin moustache covering most of his upper lip. He seemed happier than the one without facial hair, who was holding a hand to his head and looked incredibly disappointed or frustrated based on his posture. “We found him,” Arasen announced, and both of them looked up. The one with the moustache stepped up first, holding out a hand for Tasedio to shake.

“Posurin,” he introduced himself. “Resident storyteller. You must be Tasedio. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival for some time now.” He looked back at the other man, who he motioned over. “Atusiel! Come on over. He’s not going to bite.”

“You don’t know that,” Atusiel said as he stood, giving Posurin a glare. “He is the Trickster, after all. He’s unpredictable.” 

Posurin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You act like his title is a rigid definition of who he is. Anyway, this is Atusiel. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but we keep him around because he’s good with order. Helps us make sense of things here, sometimes, since we’re all so different.”

“Yes, of course,” Tasedio replied with a smile and a nod. “Good to meet you, Posurin, and Atusiel. I hope we’ll get along.”

“Atusiel,” Arasen spoke up, “he doesn’t have his powers either. Maybe you two can get acquainted over that.”

Exhaling heavily, as though cross with Tasedio’s very existence, Atusiel frowned as he spoke. “Fine. I’m warning you ahead of time—you’re not going to like it, moreso than the rest because you’re a being of chaos and restraint is the last thing you want, but it’s the only way we can figure things out. Come with me.” He gestured for Tasedio to follow, then walked toward one of the huts. There were two beds inside of it, one of which Atusiel sat down on and the other he motioned for Tasedio to do the same, to mirror him. Tasedio nodded, taking a seat and looking about as eager as he could. “Don’t look so excited,” Atusiel said, giving him a look. “You’re not going to enjoy this.”

“How do you know?” Tasedio asked. “You haven’t done it yet.”

There was a certain melancholy in the response. “None ever do.”

“Well, maybe I’ll be different,” Tasedio said, but only got a shake of the head in response.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Atusiel stated, his voice sounding defeated already before the procedure had even begun. He closed his eyes, presumably focusing his power, then opened them again and began to speak in a slightly different tone, one that Tasedio found to be very strange, but also very pleasant. “Lie down,” he said, and before Tasedio even had half an idea of what he was doing, he was already lying down on the bed. This might’ve been why others hadn’t liked it—the feeling of the loss of control over one’s own body was foreign, but somehow invigorating. He twitched his hand—so he still had some control over his actions, but whatever Atusiel ordered, presumably he had to do. This was going to be… well, he didn’t really know how it was going to be yet.

The next order came not long after. “Close your eyes.” Tasedio’s eyelids drifted shut, a slight smile on his face. His mind was already starting to feel very warm and numb from the commands, which he felt to be nice in a way. He didn’t really understand why others wouldn’t like this once it got to this point, at least. Then there was a hand on his shoulder and a hand on his forehead, applying a gentle pressure to him, presumably to keep him down when whatever was coming next would happen.

The next word was “Remember,” and his body was wracked with painful spasms before it went black.

  “The bastard melted,” he heard Atusiel saying as he started to regain consciousness. “Just jumped away from my touch and fled. There’s no way he’s going to be able to get his full potential if that’s his first reflex.” His heart was pounding. It was dark, wherever he was, and he was curled up into a ball. Where the hell was he?

“What did you do?” Arasen’s voice carried through to wherever he was as well. “I don’t think he would’ve done it unprovoked.” Atusiel sighed, exasperated, and Tasedio unfurled himself and crawled out of his hiding place. He did not remember being quite so small. “Is that him?” She was far above him. But where was she? He couldn’t see her. Looking around, he found that he was definitely under the table. And it had definitely grown, or else he had shrunk. Perhaps that was someone else’s power.

“Yes, that is him,” Atusiel said, sounding just as fed up as Arasen. “Little ball of spines. Stabbed my hand when I tried to catch him. I just told him to remember, like I did for everyone else! I don’t understand why it wouldn’t work.” Arasen hummed thoughtfully, then offered up a response.

“Maybe his memories were different somehow. I don’t know. More painful? Blocked out? You’ll have to ask him.” A gigantic hand was lowered to Tasedio’s level, which he managed to crawl onto. He supposed it was probably Arasen, considering their conversation. Though he didn’t think he was a little ball of spines… hm. She brought him up to eye level, and he snuffled at her hand curiously. Wait, snuffled? He didn’t remember his nose being this long. Nor did he remember smelling things to identify them. He tried to relax, to allow himself to sit in Arasen’s hand without trouble, but he didn’t know how to change back from whatever he was. “Can you help him get back to his usual form?”

“Change back,” Atusiel ordered without much effort, and Tasedio found himself shifting very quickly back into his normal, much larger form. Nodding his thanks, he stretched his arms and legs and blinked rapidly at Atusiel.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” he started. “I didn’t want to make things difficult. It just sort of happened.”

“It’s fine,” the other man said, his tone biting. “We’ll try again some other time.” And they did, again, and again, and again. 

When Tasedio did remember some of what he had forgotten, he started to leave, fighting when he was stopped from doing so with vicious words no one had thought warranted. It was only for a short time at first, and they thought it might have been inspired by the Runner. But he continued to distance himself from the others, and no one knew why. No one, at least, except Posurin who would not tell. He continued to argue, mostly with Atusiel who he had taken a sudden hostility toward, and so Atusiel began to give himself reasons to hate Tasedio right back. The Trickster told Arasen of how much he wanted to escape, of why and how he would do it since she was the closest to him. But still he refused to tell her what was wrong, or how she could help him.

  Naturally, she did not take kindly to this, and fought it until the end.

“Tas, wait!” Arasen called to the figure making his way into the woods. “Come on. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” the redhead spat back, stopping and turning to look at her. “Don’t get angry with someone for doing something they never should have done? Don’t get offended when you’re consistently called worthless and stupid and inferior, when you’ve proven time and time again that you aren’t? Don’t walk away from a poisonous situation that could be solved if you weren’t there? I’m sorry, Ara, but you’ll have to be more specific.” 

In the blink of an eye, she was right in front of him, giving him a frown. She put one hand on a shoulder, the other reaching up to play with his hair. “I know that you and Atusiel don’t get along, but—“

“We don’t get along.” Tasedio laughed. “We don’t get along. That’s rich. That, I believe, is the understatement of the day. Congratulations.” 

Arasen made a face at him, but stayed where she was. “But you don’t have to get all riled up about it. Eventually you’re going to have to accept that you are the youngest of us. You don’t have as much experience, and sometimes you do have to take him seriously. Hard as that might be for you, since you don’t seem like you’re really able to take anyone seriously.” Tasedio rolled his eyes and started to turn away, but found that Arasen had gotten a rather tight grip on his hair in the time that she’d been playing with it. “Look, you little brat,” she started, “I like you more than I like him. Most of us do. But you can’t go pulling something like this every time you get frustrated with him. We have to stick together. What if we lose you? I couldn’t live with myself.”

“If you lost me,” he replied, groaning, “then Posurin could just find me. Long-range telepathy. You could even keep track of me that way. And I could go on my merry way. I want to get out of here. I want to see places.” Tasedio managed to wrest himself from Arasen’s grip, then gave her a stern look. “At the very least, let me get away from everyone for a day. I’ll come back, I promise. But you need to talk to him about getting a sense of humor.” 

Arasen sighed. “Fine. But if you’re not back by sundown, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.”

“Consequ—?” he started to ask, but Arasen had already vanished. He looked behind him, making sure he was heading in the right direction, then started running. If he remembered correctly, the perfect spot for what he wanted to do was down this path. And he was right. All too soon, the forest cleared out to reveal the edge of a ravine. Tasedio smiled, then took a running leap into the valley below. Any bystanders, had there been any at the time, would have been shocked at how effortlessly this man had apparently just committed suicide. Said bystanders would have been even more surprised when they saw a great winged beast fly up out of the ravine with little to no effort, turn its head toward the camp behind it, and soar off in the opposite direction.

When he returned in the same form, Arasen shook her head and laughed. Posurin congratulated him on his imagination and spent the meal inventing tales of the origin of the monster. Atusiel, though, was not pleased when Tasedio showed up to dinner that evening as a dragon.

Rather, Atusiel was furious. He enjoyed the calmness that the group had when Tasedio wasn’t around. No one was energetic or bouncing off the walls or even angry, so it seemed, save for perhaps Arasen who was always concerned and upset when the trickster wasn’t present. This irritated Atusiel to no end. So after this dragon escapade, he decided that it needed to stop.

As it would happen, he didn’t really need to cast Tasedio out. He did a fine job of that on his own. One morning, they awoke to find him missing, and Posurin would not speak of where he had gone. Arasen was a mess, as was to be expected, and Atusiel… well, if truth be told, he was a bit sad as well. Perhaps something deep inside of him had enjoyed having someone to argue with, a foil. This sentiment, of course, all wore off the second he came back about six months later with another person, the likes of whom they’d never seen before. It looked like them, spoke like them, yet there were only supposed to be seven. So what was this new being Tasedio had brought with him? Even Posurin could not create a tale for it. It was bizarre.

“I call it a human,” Tasedio said, smiling brightly as he had done before he had regained his memories. It was as though creating something had reawakened the happiness inside him. “I’ve got one more of them waiting. I found out that my power isn’t shapeshifting like I thought it was—it’s rearranging matter. So I made these things out of stuff from the forest! Isn’t it neat? They look like us, but they sort of act like monkeys. It’s a work in progress, of course, since that hadn’t been my intent, but it’s really difficult to give them any sort of intelligence at all and they each take so much energy and so much time to make that I don’t think I’ll be doing many more.”

“Did you give them genitals, Tasedio?” Atusiel asked, his head in his hands as though he could no longer contain his exasperation.

“Well… yes. I wanted them to be able to enjoy themselves when I leave them be, and I didn’t know what else would be appropriate.”

“Then you only needed to make the two.”

Tasedio blinked. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of that. They do have the ability to reproduce, don’t they… Hey! That means I could probably reproduce, if I—“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Atusiel. “That’s a conversation that I don’t wish to have. You need to release them into the wild. You can’t keep them as pets. They’re living beings.”

At this, the trickster laughed. “Says the one whose ability does exclusively that! I was planning on letting them go as soon as I’d showed you, anyway. They aren’t pets. Though I’ve thought about this new thing, like a miniature tiger… You know what, never mind. I don’t think you care. I’ll make sure they’re safe and cared for and I’ll keep an eye on them, but I won’t lord over them. I suppose that’ll be your job.” Glaring at Atusiel, he walked off, presumably to later return without his creations.

In the corner of the camp, observing the interaction, Hirese smiled.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 10)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 10: Calling, calling, calling home

“Are you ready?” you ask. The air in the room is heavy and warm, almost oppressive. You’ve had trouble breathing for maybe ten minutes now, but Tom apparently still doesn’t know what to wear that would be appropriate, and Loki’s idea of proper ruling attire is far removed from his. He’s pacing, muttering to himself about what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. You cut in front of him, put your hands on his shoulders, and make eye contact. “Tom,” you start, “it’ll be fine. They’ll love you, it’s impossible not to. Just breathe, and figure out what you’re going to wear.” Tom looks down at himself. “You know, I think this is fine, actually. I want something that suits me.” The sleeves of his button-up are rolled up to his elbows, and that combined with his dark vest and tie give a very good semi-casual, semi-formal impression. “It does,” you agree, nodding. He smiles to himself and begins ascending the stairs. You and Loki are dressed a bit more formally, but then again, you don’t need to look likable. Both of you look at one another and follow.

Then, oddly enough, he stops midway through his ascent. “What if there are some that don’t like me, though? I know I haven’t gotten exactlyeveryone, at least not yet. What if some of them speak up or try to fix the—“ He stops himself, then begins to rephrase. “Try to take the rest away from the cause.” You shake your head as Loki laughs. “They will come,” he says. “It may take time, but eventually even the most stubborn will fall. I am a testament to that, Thomas. Were you not powerful enough to take the world as your own, I would not be following you at all.” Tom smiles and gives Loki a quick hug, then steps back a little and continues to somewhat embrace him. “Thank you,” he says in earnest. “I would’ve never gotten so far without you, and I appreciate your constant support.” Loki nods with a chuckle, and you continue ascending the stairs together.

Waiting for the three of you at the top is a crowd. Everyone’s very excited, and rightfully so, considering the circumstances. Tom clears his throat, and the crowd falls totally silent right away, enraptured by him without him having to say a word. It’s a truly unique sight to behold. He smiles, basking in the attention for just a moment before starting with his speech. “Hello, everyone,” he says, rather nonchalant. “I do hope you’ve been having a pleasant day. At this point in time, I would like to announce that I will… be aiding in international relations.” He had pondered over that phrase for hours last night, which was just as well seeing as people probably wouldn’t really like it if he had instead said “I will be taking over the world.” He grinned, picking up on your memory, and continued. “Because of this, I thought it might be important to tell you what exactly I plan on doing with this. I have a lot of ideas on how to fix some things that are less than acceptable about the world, and I’d like to share some of them with you. I do hope that important people are watching—“ with this, he looks pointedly at one of the cameras filming the event, as if to say he knows they’re there, “so that they might think it a good idea to think long and hard about some of these.” What he’s really saying is that they need to be paying attention, because their god is speaking and they should be listening, but people don’t always take kindly to that, so you suppose it’s better that Tom is the one ruling and not you.

He continues with his speech for some time, outlining the ideas he has for decreasing crime rates (this part is a ruse, of course, because as soon as he’s got control of everyone he’s just going to tell them not to hurt one another and they can’t help but accept) and other things related to the declining state of the world. Of course, you’re not actually sure if it’s declining, but Tom thinks it is, so it probably is. You’re glad that he’s allowed you to have that little bit of doubt now, because he trusts you with it. He trusts you to doubt him and if you need it, you can use that doubt to fuel change. He wants you to provide constructive criticism for him, and that’s fine by you. You can do that. You just know that what he doesn’t want is for you to run away again because you’re always fighting, and whatever happened has tempered your heart so it’s very difficult for you to be angry at Tom at all. Sure, you can recognize when he’s mucked something up, but true anger doesn’t really come to you anymore, at least not concerning him. And that’s fine, too. Few of the things he messes up are really worth getting angry over.

You and Loki are as close as ever, maybe even closer than you were before the incident. He hasn’t made another move on you, and you’ve been reliably informed that regardless of how this goes, you and Tom will finally get off the ground, so you don’t have much desire for Loki anymore anyway. You’ve been having a good amount of fun, and since Tom has partitioned some of his power and given it to Loki, he’s now able to use some of the magic that he could in the movie and the comics, which is of course incredibly entertaining.

It occurs to you that out of all his powers, Tom almost seems to use his shapeshifting, his original power, the least. You’re not sure why this is. It’s an incredibly useful power, and he can use it to great effect with all the time he’s had to perfect it. Why wouldn’t he use it more often, especially since he can still use it despite Loki being a permanent application of it? Then you realize that maybe it’s showing how he’s developed as a person. The old Tom who only had shapeshifting is probably completely different from this Tom, who has an entire repertoire of useful abilities and can use them whenever he feels like using them. Was the old Tom as comparable to a force of nature as this one is? You kind of wish you could meet the old Tom, just to see how different he is. But that’s a pipe dream. He’s gone, and what you’ve got with you is amazing, so you probably shouldn’t dwell too much on it.

You look out into the crowd, watching all the faces that are in awe of Tom, and suddenly you feel like this is where you belong, at the top of the scale, just under Tom, in a world that loves him just as much as you do. A warm, fuzzy feeling washes over you. This is where you’re meant to be. This is home. You hadn’t always fit in before. No one fits in all of the time. But now, you know your purpose, you know exactly what you’re doing in your life, and everything is alright. Taking a deep breath, you smile and wave as you’re called back down. You and Loki exit first, and this time Tom follows you. He’s been talking for a while now, and you suppose that he probably is done, but you’ve been thinking this whole time, so you weren’t really paying attention. You hope that he doesn’t take offense or anything. You’ll watch it on the television later when you get back to the house, if you don’t end up in the bedroom first. You smile to yourself, knowing that is a very plausible outcome, and continue into the room where you’ve all put your belongings. Picking them up, you turn back to Tom, who looks a little strange. 

His eyes are wide and he’s grinning like a madman, breathing heavily like he’s just run a marathon. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he says, panting. “That went so much better than I thought it would. And the people, and…” He laughs briefly, then takes your hands in his and dances around a bit. “I never expected to do so well. I think I might actually be able to fix everything. I’d just hoped, before, but I really believe in people. I think that they might only need a little guidance to end up on the right path. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? I wouldn’t have to completely rewrite everyone. They could still be themselves.” He seems ridiculously giddy about this idea, dancing around the room like a lunatic until he finally falls down on his back, where he lies and stares at the ceiling while laughing for a good five minutes. “Oh, this is great. This is wonderful. We should go home, though.” He starts to sit up, then does an impressive roll onto his feet, where he takes you in one arm and Loki in the other. Loki looks incredibly uncomfortable. He’s just been sort of staring at Tom this entire time, not really sure what to make of the sudden cheeriness. In a flash, you’ve been transported back to the house, and as Tom skips off to do something else, Loki gives you a look. “Is he alright?” he asks you. “I hope this whole business hasn’t driven him off the deep end.”

This makes you laugh. “No, I think he’s fine,” you reply. “Just a bit overwhelmed by how well he was received. He’ll be back to normal in a few hours, I’m sure.” And he is. He’s still happy the rest of the day, but he’s notably less energetic and more of a reserved, satisfied happy. You’re okay with this. Though Tom is usually pretty animated, you can do with a little less movement. Loki seems pretty happy about this, too, or at least about as happy as Loki gets. You’re pretty sure he’s quietly happy for Tom as well, but being Loki he doesn’t really know how to express it. Not that he would even if he knew how, being Loki. He’s not really one for compliments or touchy-feely situations, and he’s looked incredibly edgy every time Tom’s hugged him today. Usually, he doesn’t mind, but you think the amount of energy Tom had today was probably a factor. So later, when they embrace after Tom’s calmed down, he looks much more at ease, and you know for sure. You feel more at ease, too, with Tom being calmer, because he isn’t sad, but he isn’t jumping around either. And that’s great. You feel great, and everything is amazing.

A few days later, he makes another appearance. You and Loki join him again, and you suspect that this may become a regular occurrence. It’s a different location, at least, with different faces, still all focused on Tom whenever he speaks. Everyone is fully engaged and totally smitten with their new ruler, or at least soon-to-be ruler. Once or twice, you catch Loki giving him the same look, which is understandable. You’re pretty sure you make that face as well when you look at Tom and think about how magnificent he is. After all, it is incredibly difficult for anyone to contain themselves when confronted directly with his glory. You know that you’re very happy with your relationship with him, with his standing in the world, with everything, really. A small part of you thinks that this can’t possibly last, that it’s too good to be true and that nothing so wonderful could ever last more than a few weeks.

A few weeks spread into a few months and nothing changes. Tom continues making appearances to the public. No one makes a move on him to try and get rid of him. The number of those that don’t follow him grows smaller and smaller as his influence spreads to even those who may not have heard of him before. And you, too, gain a small following, of those interested in you for being so close to their god. These people are incredibly friendly, almost reverent to you, and you kind of like it. You never thought you’d like being nobility, but it’s pretty nice. You don’t live in a bigger house or mansion or anything, but you would’ve never asked for that anyway. What you wanted was to be noticed, and once Tom saw you, no one else really mattered. You’re certain that even if Tom wasn’t dedicated to reforming the world, and he just stayed with you in his house living out his days, you’d still be happier than you could’ve ever been on your own at your home. But that’s just it, isn’t it? He didn’t just improve the quality of the world overall. He’s dedicated to improving individual lives, and he started with yours. You have no complaints, and that is exactly how he wants it. He would rather you be complacent, standing by his side and making sure he stays just. And you do a pretty good job of it. At least, as well as you can, when he told you what just and unjust is. 

During one of his speeches, you find out that he can communicate with you mentally even while he’s speaking. You suppose that’s just another reason why he’s worthy of worship and you’re not. You have a rather pleasant conversation about what you’re going to do that night while he talks about fixing poverty. You smile to yourself as you mentally talk about the dinner he’s going to make that night and what you plan to do afterword. As he begins to wrap up his speech, your conversation dwindles, and he finds it ideal to add one final statement. “I love you dearly,” he says without speaking, his voice ringing through your mind like the clearest bells. “My light, my shining star, I would never want to live without you.”

“And you will never have to for as long as I live,” you reply, and he smiles, “for I will never leave your side, my love. My king.”

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 9)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 9: 'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home

When the world starts to fall at his feet, it is then that you realize how big the gap of power really is between you and Tom. Others begin worshipping him, believing in his abilities, and it starts to make you jealous. It isn’t entirely unlikely that he’ll find someone new that he likes more, someone that isn’t defying him as much lately. You’ve started talking back to him, arguing with him on a regular basis. You aren’t getting along well. A large portion of it is because he didn’t realize that you would die someday and didn’t seem to be bothered by it, but some of it has to do with how Loki’s been acting. He’s been clinging to Tom, proclaiming his affection for a week since he was reprogrammed. He is helpless and afraid, and you’re upset with Tom for thinking that the way to fix everything is through hurting people. He says he doesn’t like it, but you’ve come to think otherwise. You’ve had arguments over this, and he’s come so close to doing the same to you, but you’ve managed to hold him off using logic and his name. 

A part of you, deep down, always knew he was like this, ever since he made you join his side, and had been planning to get away from him. It makes you feel bad that you’ve been plotting this for longer than you even knew you were planning to leave him, especially since he told you that everyone leaves him, but at this point you’re not entirely sure he doesn’t deserve it. So in the middle of the night, when he is fast asleep, you turn over and whisper his name. His eyes open slowly, and when they do he looks dazed. Perfect. “Take me home,” you tell him. “And afterwords, come back here and go to sleep again.” He gives you a quizzical look, holding on to your shoulder, and in the blink of an eye you’ve been brought to your long-abandoned home. 

Looking at the calendar, it’s been almost four months since you’ve been here. No one noticed. Tom must’ve gotten to all of them first. You give him a hug, and when you let go, he vanishes. You have mixed feelings about this. You really liked spending time with him, but things were getting out of hand. You’ve got to tell someone about what’s going on with him. Most of all, you want to see him get some kind of professional help. He has deep-seated issues that you can’t even begin to go into. You wonder why you didn’t think of this at all before you saw what happened to Loki, why you didn’t find it strange that he was using the people at the party in the same way. Nothing had been weird when he was there with you, smiling and hugging you like nothing mattered. But now all you were doing was fighting and arguing over the ethics of the situation. You really wanted to love him, but with the poisonous atmosphere you were living in, you just couldn’t manage, especially not with him trying to take over the world. That was becoming more and more of a turn-off the more you thought about it. You decide that it might be best if you went to bed now, since it’d probably be a long day tomorrow of trying to find someone Tom hadn’t reached yet, someone that you could tell about this so that he could be stopped.

You wake up the next morning in your own bed with the sun shining through your window. You get up, get yourself ready, and head out the door with a smile on your face. It’s a beautiful day out today. You walk down the street, and you only make it a few steps before you get the feeling that something is very wrong. You turn around, but no one is following you. No one is in front of you, either. So you dismiss the feeling, but pick up the pace a little. The feeling follows you, and you take out your phone and dial the first number in it—one of your friends, thankfully. You continue walking as the phone rings and the one on the other end finally picks up, with you breathing a frantic sigh of relief and them asking if everything is alright. You tell them that you’re in the area and you feel like you’re being followed. Then they ask you why you’re in the area, and if Tom is with you. You press the end call button before the conversation can get any further.

At that point, you stop messing with your phone and just put it back in your pocket, bolting down the street. You don’t know where you’re going. You just know you’re going away from here, away from where he knows you’ll be. His influence is spreading like a plague. You’ll be lucky to find anyone in your entire hometown that doesn’t already worship him. Your heart is pounding and you can’t breathe as you continue down the street. Your phone rings, but you don’t answer it. You don’t have the time or the oxygen to talk to anyone. When you do finally slow down, you find that you’re in front of another friend’s house, one you’re less friendly with. Maybe, just maybe, one he won’t have thought to take from you. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think. This one had never been one that had really been interested in him, so it would be great if this were the case. You’re being optimistic, of course, but at this point it’s all you have.

You knock on the door and the friend answers, nodding at you with a smile. You explain the situation and they seem very taken aback, surprised at his actions. They don’t glorify him. They don’t even really seem to know who you’re talking about, except that he’s probably that guy that’s been on the news every day for a week or so. They also want to know why they haven’t seen you for months. So you sit on their sofa and tell them everything. You end up hugging them, crying into their shoulder about all the things that are wrong with what used to be your relationship with Tom, and they console you and pat you on the back. Then, very suddenly, their body type shifts, and you’re crying into a very familiar shoulder that you do not want to be embracing.

“Love, did you think it would be that easy?” he asks with a chuckle, stroking your hair like he is so prone to doing. “I woke up terribly lonely this morning and I thought you might’ve gone and done something like this. If you were so dissatisfied, you should have just told me.” You let go of him, backing up and glaring at him. “No, I couldn’t have told you,” you retort. “Because if I’d told you, you would have just brainwashed me some more until I put up with it. Like you did to Loki. That’s what you do. When people don’t like you, you just make them your puppet and they can’t tell you no. That’s horrifying! I don’t want any part in this anymore, Tom. I care about you and I want you to be happy, but this isn’t the way to go about it.”

He sighs. “I had a feeling you’d be reluctant. But I need you around. Without you there, I’m so much worse, and I can’t stand myself. I need you more than I could ever admit before to keep me in check like you were trying to do. It was wrong of me to argue with you about it. I really do love you, more than I can express, and I don’t want this dark part of me to be the one ruling over everyone.” He stops for a minute, giving a heavy sigh and licking his lips as he seems to decide what to say next. “It’s going to happen whether you’re going to stand in my way or not, but I’d rather you be with me than against me. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I think that my rule would be so much better with you than it would without you. I don’t really know how I’m going to function as a competent ruler at all without you, to be honest. And you can say whatever you’re feeling, if it’s criticism. I might even check in from time to time just to see if you’ve got any complaints.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives you a pitiful look. “What I’m trying to say is that I want you to come home. I need something to believe in so that I don’t become consumed by myself. You do want what’s best for everyone, don’t you?” This makes you feel a little guilty. Yes, you suppose that what you were planning isn’t what’s best for you, since you’d be alone in the world, and it wouldn’t be good for Tom or Loki either. So you walk back up to him and give him another hug, and this time, you feel a shift, and you’re back at his house.

This isn’t really what you wanted when you went home, but you suppose it’s the best out of the situations you could be in right now. Tom leans down and kisses you, and suddenly the world starts spinning and you can’t breathe and you’re consumed by the contact, and then you’re waking up again, this time in his bed. There’s definitely something up with that. You’re pretty sure he’s got some sort of method of knocking you out by kissing you, ridiculous as it sounds. And it’s addictive. You already find yourself wanting more. You take a deep breath and clear your head. Alright. So you’re here again, and you don’t know what you’re going to do. You don’t have an incredible amount of faith in him changing, but it’s not like you have much else as far as choices go. So you’re just going to go with it, you suppose.

There is a sudden, sharp pain in your head, and you don’t know why. You curl up on the bed, trying to fight it off, but it feels like a spike is probing your brain, as if looking for something and trying to eradicate it by stabbing it to death. Tears stream down your face as it continues, and then as soon as it started, there’s one final stab and it’s gone. You wonder where it came from, and if Tom felt it too. Thinking about Tom, you realize that you’ve been very rude to him all this time, and that you should apologize. You don’t know what the pain did to you, but you’re very complacent where you were once angry, as if there were a switch for being cross with Tom in your head and it was suddenly flicked off. Everything is alright again. Tom’s worshippers are gathering and you wouldn’t have it any other way. A warm feeling wells up in your chest when you think about how good everything will be when he does rule.

You stand up to go to him and apologize profusely, but he’s already at the door by the time you get up. “No need,” he says, shaking his head. “Instead, it should be I that apologizes, for angering you so, especially when I should know that you only have my best interests at heart. My love, my heart,” he says, taking your hands and kissing them gently, “I’ve seen how difficult it is to live without you, and I would not wish to ever put myself through such an experience again. If what I’m doing is making you irate, please let me know. I would rather change than lose you.” He embraces you, and it makes you happier than you remember ever being. Everything is back to normal. Loki slowly returns to his former self, a sarcastic trickster rather than clingy and tearful. Tom gives you more attention than ever, despite his frequent ventures to turn the hearts of the many to his rule. And you’re okay with that, because you’re not fighting anymore. You’re pretty sure that if all goes according to plan, you’ll never fight again, either, and that would be the best outcome of all.

It’s only a number of weeks later that the entire world is united in their love for Tom and he finally deems it appropriate to make an appearance and see if his plan can be set into motion now, and you’re excited for him. If he can get it working efficiently this soon, you’d be delighted. Tom would be so happy if it were to happen. And, truth be told, in a way he already is. He’s being regularly worshipped as a god or some near equivalent, and he loves seeing the impact he’s had on the lives of his subjects, how he’s made their lives more peaceful or more enjoyable. It’s then that you decide that what he’s doing really is good for the people he’s helping, and that it isn’t as selfish as you might have first thought for him to want everyone to do this for him.

Tom, you decide, makes a better god than Loki ever did, interacting positively with his people and responding to them on a personal basis. And maybe, just maybe, based on what you’ve seen of humanity under Tom’s control, he had been right when he’d said that you were made to be ruled.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 8)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 8: And dreaming when they're gone

It’s about a week later in the living room when Loki approaches you with an idea you’re not entirely sure that Tom will like.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he says, “and if Tom and I really are technically the same person, I think this might spur him on so that he’d maybe make an effort toward making you happy, too. Isn’t that what you want?” You bite your lip and think about it for a while. “Eventually,” you respond, “but I wasn’t really planning on asking him any time soon. I mean, he is sort of busy—“ He cuts you off. “Exactly! And there is so much stress involved, and he needs to release that tension somehow, doesn’t he? But he’s refusing, and I think that if we were to do something, he might be driven to get a bit more active. And I’m still technically him, so you would not be cheating on him.” You give Loki a strange look. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t understand why it’s such a concern, regardless. He wants you to be happy, and if you decide that pleasing yourself with me is the best way to do it, why would he be angry? We are one and the same, and he refuses to partake. Your body practically deserves worship and he is denying you this. I could even look like him, if it would make it easier for you.” He stands up as his form shifts to mirror Tom’s, and he stops at the arm of your chair, leaning in toward you and running his fingers down your face. “I know that you want this. If you would rather not, I will not press the matter any longer, but I can feel the desire that wells up in you when he is around. It’s nearly palpable. You would like nothing more than to have both of you screaming out in satisfaction, and I can give you that.” You blink, backing away from his touch slightly. “I know for a fact this isn’t really in Tom’s best interest.” In only a second, he’s back to being Loki, and he shakes his head as he chuckles. “I admit, it is a bit selfish of me to want this. But it’s also for you, and for him, so that you might both enjoy yourselves better. I have other ways of being satisfied. I want you two to be happy together in this way.”

“So what would you do?” you ask. “I don’t really trust you very much, friendly as we are, especially with my body.” This makes him laugh outright. “By the night’s end, you would believe every word I said and more. It is called a silvertongue for more reason than one, after all.” He laughs again. “You would be well off in my care, I can guarantee it.” As he’s speaking, Tom storms into the room, and Loki cuts off mid-sentence, scrambling back onto his seat on the couch. “Loki,” Tom says, his voice deceptively calm and even, “I think we need to have a talk about appropriate behavior concerning our guest.” Loki blinks, holding his hands up. “I assure you, it’s not what it sounded like. My intent was—“

“I can read your mind, Loki. I know exactly what your intent was,” Tom responds. There’s none of the usual laughter in his eyes. You’re not even sure there’s anger there. It’s just… cold. Loki squirms under his gaze, and in that moment you’re certain that you’ve never seen anything more terrifying than a truly angry Tom Hiddleston. “Come on,” he says, the tone flat and unexpressive, a sharp contrast to his usual manner of speaking. “If you don’t move, we’ll have to do it right here. And I’m sure some people wouldn’t appreciate that.” His gaze flits over to you for just a second, but in that second you feel a rush of terror and curl up a little on your seat. “N-no, it’s alright, you can do it here,” you say. “Either way, I’m fine.” Tom doesn’t look at you when he asks, “Are you sure?” You’re not sure. You’re definitely not sure. But you don’t want to leave Loki here alone when almost anything could happen to him, so you nod. “Yeah.” Tom looks over at you and shakes his head as he turns back to Loki. He knows exactly why you’re here, and he doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t do anything about it, so you suppose you haven’t angered him too much.

Loki looks over at you with pleading eyes, but there’s nothing you can do for him, and he did sort of bring this upon himself with the conversation topic. If he had known that it was going to provoke a reaction, he shouldn’t have said anything to you. But at the same time, you get the feeling that Tom might overreact a little. You’ll help him if you can, but it’s unlikely that you’ll be of any use in this situation. He does need to be punished if he’s gone against Tom, after all. So you stay in your chair and watch as Tom orders Loki to stay where he is as he sits down next to him. Loki shudders and closes his eyes, as though he’s prepared himself for this before. Like this has happened before enough times for him to know exactly how to react. You’re not sure how you feel about that.

“Go ahead,” Tom says, and Loki sort of falls into him, shaking, with tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Tom nods. “I know.” His hand makes its way to Loki’s temple, and his voice remains cold as he speaks. “Relax, Loki. Go to sleep. It’ll be easier for you that way.” He doesn’t even have time to respond before he’s slumped against Tom, his breathing even and his shivers gone. Tom closes his eyes as well, takes a deep breath, and as he exhales, a small whine comes from Loki. As Tom continues his regulated breathing, Loki’s cries become louder, and his muscles start to twitch. Within only a few minutes, Loki is convulsing on the couch under Tom’s hand,  and it doesn’t look like he plans on stopping any time soon. This is painful to watch, especially knowing that he’s probably gone through this before. You feel a word well up in your chest, and as you shout it, your stomach does a flip and you prepare for the worst. “Tasedio!”

Tom stops, his eyes opening very suddenly as he slowly turns to look at you. The cold detachment has mixed with the distant look he always gets when you use his name, and the combination of the two makes him look completely inhuman, and you hate it. “Tasedio,” you repeat, just in case, “that’s enough. He’s had enough.” You’re sure he would question you were it in his power to do so, but he can’t. “I must still fix him,” he replies, a little breathless. You nod. “That’s fine. But that’s enough pain. I think he got the point a long time ago.” He turns back to Loki, his expression shifting to one more compassionate as he starts to stroke his hair. The convulsions stop almost instantly, and the whines cease when Tom leans down and whispers, “Shh. It’s going to be alright.” Loki is no longer in pain, and even seems to be enjoying it now, since he’s smiling a little and pressing himself into Tom. A little more time passes before he finally tells Loki to wake up. He’s looking much better now, and Tom dismisses him to his room, saying that he wants to speak with you privately. Loki nods, gives him a hug, and walks down the hall.

“What the hell was that?” Tom asks after Loki is gone. “I hadn’t thought you were turning against me. I thought things were getting better between us.” He’s returned to the icy glare, but you can see that behind that, he’s deeply hurt by what you’ve done. And that makes you feel terrible about it, but it needed to be done. You shiver, then speak up. “You didn’t need to hurt him that badly.”

“It’s the only thing he’ll learn from,” Tom responds. “And what gives you the right to decide that? I’ve been doing this for longer than we’ve known one another, let alone as long as you’ve known him.” You shake your head. “That just means you’ve been overdoing it for that long. I have to be able to tell when you’re going overboard, Tom. That’s my job. I have to keep you in check. That’s what I was doing. Maybe what Loki did was inappropriate and warranted punishment, but not as much as you were going to give him. He’s practically dependent on you as it is. If you keep breaking him so thoroughly and then building him back up like you’re doing, eventually he’s either going to snap and turn against you or be totally unable to function without you.” Tom considers what you’ve said for a while, almost motionless on the couch as you shuffle around, trying to get comfortable again. Finally, he agrees. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. This is why I chose you for the position.” He smiles at you, then stands up and moves over to you, offering a hug. You take it and stand there for a while. “I’m sorry that you had to see that,” he says, “though I suppose it would’ve happened eventually anyway. I hope I never have to do that to you. And truth be told, I hope I never have to do it to him again. I don’t really like doing it.” You smile and nod, not doubting him for a moment. Of course he doesn’t like hurting people. It’s not like he’s crazy or anything.

You stand there for a while and just embrace one another. You’ve known that you needed Tom around to function properly for some time now, but you think he’s finally starting to realize that he might need you, too. He smiles, and you nuzzle into his shoulder as he hums with pleasure. “Do you ever plan to?” you ask him after a while. He shrugs. “Eventually, I’m sure. But not yet, I don’t think we’re ready yet. And by we, I mean myself. I’m not ready for that yet. I want to make sure everything is perfect before I do, so it’ll have to wait until after I’m in power. I hope that’s alright with you.” You nod. It’s a little disappointing that you have to wait so long, but it’s better than never, and you can respect his reasoning. “I can understand why you’d want to wait. This is important to you.”  In all honesty, you’re totally fine with waiting, because just thinking about Tom finally achieving his final goal has given you a rush like you’ve never had before. So you grin, you hug him a little tighter, and then you finally decide to let go. He doesn’t seem like he wants to, but lets it happen anyway. You sit down on the couch, and he sits down next to you so that you can still be together for a while.

As you sit there, you realize something. “Tom,” you start, “you know, I’ve just thought of something. Something… you may not have accounted for.” He laughs. “I’ve accounted for everything, love. But what is it that you’ve thought of?” Yes, maybe it is ridiculous that you think he hasn’t thought of something yet, but who knows? You’d like to know the answer at least. “Do you plan on having me with you for all of eternity?” He blinks, then replies, “I suppose so. I don’t know who else I’d rather have by my side.” You smile, but continue your idea. “Then how do you plan on preventing death? I’m going to die eventually unless you have a plan.”

He freezes up. Apparently he hasn’t thought of this. “I…” He looks over at you, mortified. “I was so used to my significant other being immortal that I didn’t consider… I’m so sorry. I’ll figure out a way to solve this, I promise. I think that I can figure it out. It shouldn’t be too hard if I can figure out how to replicate my life force, or something. I’m not really sure how I’d go about it right now. I’ll be sure to ask all the scientists once I come into power. Is that okay?” Again, you nod. You sit there for a while in silence until he decides to speak again. “Though, if there isn’t a way… I’ll keep you in my heart forever. I’ll bring you back, sort of. I’ll have the power to do that. I’ve been able to maintain Loki and split into others, now.” He smiles as he concentrates and a woman appears near you, one that looks eerily familiar. She smiles and waves at you. “You see, that’s what I’ve planned to do with Arasen, what I was planning to do even before I knew you. But now, I don’t need to, because I have you.” She vanishes without half a thought, and he grins. “I can do the same with you, if I need to. I hope I won’t have to, but if it’s necessary, you’ll always be with me.”

Of course, you see the flaw in this—it won’t really be you, it’ll just be another part of him that he can control without much effort, so the entire idea of doing it is defeated. But to tell him that would be either to court death or to make him very upset, and you’re very sure you don’t want to do either one of those. So you stay silent and nod, and it slowly starts to dawn on you that Tom definitely doesn’t realize what exactly mortality entails. This is frightening, because you fear that maybe he could make a mistake and end up getting you killed, then think it’s all fine because he can just “bring you back.” Of course, it occurs to you far too late that he’s a telepath, and you give him a look that says you’re sorry. He tears up a little, and holds on to you like he never plans to let go.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 7)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 7: And so I tell myself that I'll be strong

You’ve got a lot of questions about this situation, but one of the first is, “Why are we taking a car if you can teleport?”

This makes Tom chuckle. “I don’t want to frighten them by popping into their ordeal with no explanation. Being able to travel that far without needing a vehicle would make them quite suspicious, don’t you think?” You shrug. “I’m just not sure that it was entirely necessary, unless you wanted a road trip as a byproduct.”

“Who’s to say that I didn’t?” he replies with a mischievous grin. You suppose that’s probably the extent of the indication you’re going to get as far as what’s happening. Tom really likes surprising you. You haven’t even been told what you’re going to in the first place and have no idea except that it requires you to have formalwear, which is sitting in the trunk at the moment. Presumably Tom needs it as well, but at the moment he’s wearing a disheveled button-up (he was in quite the hurry this morning and you have no idea why he had such a sudden sense of urgency) which he manages to make very attractive without even trying.

Speaking of very attractive without even trying, upon hearing this, Loki pops up from the backseat and pulls out one of the earbuds from Tom’s iPod. “Road trip?” he asks. “Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were going straight to—“ Tom interrupts him. “We’re going there, yes, but we’re making a stop along the way so that we don’t all lose our heads from boredom. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” Loki rolls his eyes like a belligerent teenager. “Fine. But you need more music on this device that I would enjoy. I’m getting rather tired of the Beatles.”

“You could always go without,” Tom replies, and that shuts him up.

You spend the entire day on the road making conversation. For the most part, Tom asks you about yourself, since you already know a great deal about him from all the interviews he’s done. He’s very excited to know more about you—he could have just read your mind, but he tells you that it’s so much sweeter when you say it yourself, and that makes your heart melt that much more.

You don’t restrict yourself to things about you, either. You also tell him things you’ve observed, like how when he paces it’s always twelve-steps-stop-turn-repeat with all the precision in the world like he’s had centuries of practice; but when Loki paces it’s irregular and so distracting you wonder how he gets anything done. You feel strange giving him this information, then take a moment to realize that this is how it must have been in The Avengers when Loki said “Barton told me everything.” It was the human thrall of a god telling him about themselves, about things they’ve seen. When you voice this, Tom quickly disputes it—“you’re not my thrall, you’re my counterbalance”—but no one in the vehicle looks even remotely convinced, not even Tom himself. You put a hand on his shoulder, remind him that you’re happy like this, and give him a peck on the cheek. He relaxes a little and finally smiles.

After a while, you stop for the night and spend it in a hotel (Tom shifts to look a little less like himself when you check in). Loki fell asleep in the backseat almost an hour ago, and Tom can’t bear to move him, so you’ve left him there. When you get back to your room, you start kissing him again, and then you wake up again with the same pleasantly tingly feeling as you did before. His arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, and you start thinking that there is definitely a pattern showing up here. But it’s not important right now. You turn toward Tom, curious to see whether he’s woken up yet or not. He’s still asleep, and the faint light streaming in the window plays around his face in the most beautiful way. You run a hand through his hair, then lay a kiss on his forehead. It’s enough to wake him up, a smile touching his face as his eyes open. “Good morning to you too,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “How are you this morning?”

“Amazing. It’s hard to be anything else when I wake up next to you.” He laughs at this. You grin and ask, “What about you?” With a shrug, he responds, “I’m alright. Woke up a few hours ago. You were too beautiful to wake up at that hour, so I reconstructed everyone here instead. Won’t have any relevance or effects until everything sets into motion, but I thought I’d get it out of the way. Slightly less work in the long run. Then I went back to sleep.”

“Is Loki still doing alright?” you ask. Tom nods. “Been asleep all night. Wasn’t hard to keep him that way, either. He’s like a child, sometimes, with how much he complains and how easy he is to satisfy.” He’s right, like he always is. “So what’s the plan for today?” you ask. His first response is a grin as he slides out of bed. “You’ll see. We should get dressed, though, so that we can get there on time.”

An hour later, you’re on the road again. Loki is awake now, and antsier than a stir-crazy puppy, constantly asking when the car is going to stop. “I am growing impatient, Thomas,” he says, tapping his foot on the floor. “You stated that we would go to see something that I would be interested in. I am the god of lies, not you.” Tom rolls his eyes. “We’re not there yet,” he replies. “It’ll be maybe another hour.” Loki groans and goes back to his music.

Eventually, you do stop in Minnesota. Loki looks entirely unenthused, especially when Tom tells him that they both have to change appearances. Tom changes to look more mundane. Loki shifts to look exactly like Tom in his normal state, which earns him a glare. He then cycles through the entire main cast of The Avengers, finally settling on an alteration of Scarlett Johansson. As you all exit the car, Loki finally figures out where you are. “This is that really big mall, isn’t it?” he asks, glancing back and forth between Tom and the building. “The biggest one in the country.” Tom nods, and Loki smiles at him. It’s not his usual sarcastic or knowing smirk, so both you and Tom are rather taken aback. Even more surprising is when he goes up to Tom and hugs him, burying his face in Tom’s shoulder. For a moment, you swear you can see them in their normal forms, but it’s only a split second later that they shift back to their disguises. Tom lifts a hand and carefully pats Loki on the back a few times before he lets go and turns around, heading toward the mall with an enthusiastic skip in his step. You glance over at Tom and share a smile. Maybe he’s more like a kid than you thought.

You spend a good six hours in the mall. Loki is delighted and ends up clothes shopping for almost the entirety of your time there, coming out with more bags than you and Tom combined. Then again, you didn’t really buy much. You got a smoothie at one point, and Tom got you a stuffed animal, but apart from that you really didn’t want much. You just enjoyed being out of the house and the car. You note that Loki seemed to enjoy it much more than you did, but then again, he was probably a lot more stir-crazy than you were. When you’re finished and end up back on the road, half of the backseat is filled with scarves. You don’t have half an idea as to what Loki plans to do with all those scarves. He can’t possibly wear all of them unless he sets them on a year-long rotation. But he’s happy, and you’re happy, and Tom’s happy, so you suppose it doesn’t matter.

A few hours later, you reach your destination. You’ve already all changed into your formal attire, and Loki looks incredibly pleased with himself after taking half an hour to decide on what scarf to wear. The building you’re walking into looks important, and you decide that you’re very, very glad that Tom chose you as his companion. He’s probably going to change the world tonight somehow, and you can only hope that you’ll be able to help him.

When you get inside, you realize that it’s a formal social event as you could’ve probably guessed a few minutes ago. He walks in with you, arm-in-arm, and smiles and nods at people when they pass. You recognize several as important political figures—governors, senators, and the like—and also catch that they seem to almost glare at him before he meets their eyes, but in that split second that he makes eye contact you can see the change practically as it happens, as they shift from suspicion and even hostility to adoration, to friendliness. And then they smile, and knowing that he’s just changed their entire worldview, he smiles right back. Which, of course, raises some questions. When he did this to you, was it really that fast, or had he taken longer on it because you required more attention? You know it’s selfish, but you sort of hope it was the latter. Tom smiles as he looks ahead and pulls you in a little closer. That’s about as much of an answer as you’re probably going to get.

On a few occasions, Tom has to leave you for a moment so that he can have short discussions with some of these people. You don’t mind, but whenever Tom leaves your side, you end up getting asked to dance by various other individuals. They’re all very attractive. They’re all not Tom. So you politely decline, then wait awkwardly for him to return. He takes you by the arm again and continues on his way through the building every time, and as the evening goes on, you wonder why exactly you’re here. Then you realize that you don’t know where Loki went, either. You begin to suggest to Tom that perhaps your time here might be better spent making sure he doesn’t get into trouble, but before you can even get the question out he’s already agreeing with you and asking you to make sure you stay near the ballroom area so that when he’s finished, he can find you. You consent and part ways so you can find the dark-haired one and maybe, if necessary, he’ll make things a little more interesting. You love Tom, you really do, but this is his area of interest and expertise and there’s not much that you can do to help.

You find Loki without much effort. He’s been chatting with others in Tom’s wake, talking about how to deal with their newfound knowledge amongst other things. This is what you should have been doing all along. He welcomes you to join in the conversation as soon as he sees you coming, and you have a wonderful discussion with some senator and his spouse about how Tom is planning on spreading his name to the rest of the country, the world. Others join in and leave at staggered intervals, but no one untouched by Tom’s influence pays you any mind. This is a relief. It might’ve been difficult to explain otherwise.

Later in the evening, you finally witness Tom’s return to you. He comes to you with open arms and embraces you. “It’s been a stressful night,” he whispers in your ear as you both sway a little. “I wish I could have spent the entire evening with you instead of all these people, but I have to get a few of them in order to have any sort of influence. You understand.” You nod, your arms around his waist. “Yeah. I understand. As long as it gets you further, it’s fine by me.” His hands move up to your shoulders as you continue to sway to the music. “Er, love,” he starts, “I think we’re dancing.”

At first, you’re so overcome by the fact that he called you love that you can’t really react to what he’s said at all. But once you get past that, you blink and smile at him. “What, is that a problem?” He shakes his head as he chuckles. “No, I just thought I’d make sure you were aware of it. You know, it was difficult, after you left.” You raise an eyebrow. “What was difficult? I wasn’t really doing anything.” As he shrugs, you can see a note of sadness make its way into his expression. “I know, but it… everything about this plan is more difficult when you aren’t at my side, heart.” He leans in and presses his forehead to yours. “It’s harder to be strong when you’re not with me, is what I’m trying to say here, so I really want to make sure I never lose you. Today’s made me very aware of that.”

As you pick up dancing a little more fluidly, you lean in for a brief kiss. “You won’t have to be without me,” you state. “I don’t plan on leaving.” To this, he chuckles sadly and looks away, as though he’s unable to face you anymore, and when he finally does speak, he sounds on the verge of tears.

“No one ever does.”

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 6)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 6: You're shining when I'm alone

There’s some small satisfaction in knowing that, at the end of the day, you’re all he has.

There probably shouldn’t be—you do care about him, and you don’t want him to feel alienated, but the fact that he really has no one else to turn to but you when things go wrong makes you feel warm and tingly inside, because it means that you’re closer to him than any other being alive on the planet. Not, of course, more than any dead, you think as you remember the other six, but they’re dead now, and you aren’t, so you’d say that puts you a slight step ahead of them in the running for Tom’s favor. You feel like you should feel bad, having so much power over him, but you don’t. Every relationship needs balance.

Unfortunately, knowing his name is like an itch at the back of your head, waiting to be scratched. You feel like it would tip the scales unfairly in your favor and are thusly loathe to use it. But you don’t blame Loki for telling you. After all, he probably has the same nagging, especially since he’s on less even ground than you are. You wonder how many times he’s actually used it, if at all. Can he? Does he qualify as a mortal or a part of Tom, to that end? If he can use it, then why did he give it to you? If he can’t, then… well, then you take a certain degree of pity on him. It would make sense if he couldn’t, since he’s just a facet of Tom’s personality, but given that he’s able to manifest on his own now, it would also make sense if he could. So the next time you see him alone, you tell him that he should give it a shot.

He seems to have returned to his old self now, or at least closer to how he used to act, and grins mischievously. You give him a smile back, but only because you know the truth he holds in his heart, the truth that nothing he could ever plan would hurt Tom. That he, like everyone else, was made to be ruled. And that’s a secret that the both of you will share for as long as you are friends.

Although, when he finds out that he can use Tom’s name, that doesn’t stop Loki from spending an entire afternoon playing him like a well-tuned violin. You watch, both to make sure that he doesn’t get out of hand and because you and Loki have become friends in recent times and, admittedly, you’ve wanted to see the extent of what the name can do since you found out that it had limitations. It never comes to the point where you’re dissecting his personality, but you do have a heated session of Truth or Dare (you at least allow him to choose between the two) and rather enjoy making bets on how long he can hold a perfect handstand. By the time you’re both well and finished, at least for the time being, he’s splayed across the sofa, weary and spent. He doesn’t even have the energy to glare at either of you, or it could be that he chooses not to, that you’re just having a little fun with him and that you didn’t, couldn’t hurt him with it and he realizes it. Loki finishes it off with something he’s told you that he’s always wanted to do, something that Tom’s always wanted him to be able to do but had never managed to achieve before.

“Tasedio,” he says, and Tom’s limp body goes stiff one last time, “please, if you would like to, as you once informed me you did… let go of Arasen.” He breathes a sigh, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. For a moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, he’d always wanted to let go but had never thought it proper or appropriate. Maybe he didn’t want to want it. Maybe he liked being in constant nostalgic pain.

But you discard that thought. If he was in pain, it was Loki’s job to fix it if he could. He was just doing what he was supposed to do, and it looked like it had an overall positive result. Tom manages to sit up, his muscles no doubt aching like none other, and laughs breathlessly at Loki. “Can’t believe you,” he manages, shaking his head. “Can’t believe either of you. Using me like that.”

The sharp retort taste of your own medicine that jumps to your tongue is dismissed as soon as it comes, faster than you can even realize it was there but not so fast that Tom doesn’t notice, replaced by a slightly less caustic “Testing the parameters, just doing our job.” It is true, after all, since your main purpose is to keep him in check. Just because Loki can lie to Tom doesn’t mean that you can. But you suppose it also doesn’t stop you from being snarky, so that’s fine in the long run. Loki nods with a knowing smile that says it was really all his idea. Tom grins weakly at him, then turns to you. That ever-distinctive smile of his makes your heart melt, his eyes jovial, his lips soft—

You realize, very suddenly, that you shouldn’t know what his lips feel like. And then comes the realization that they’re pressed against yours. You hear a laugh in the background, giddy as all hell and you wonder why Loki sounds so happy. Then Tom’s hands are circling your waist and you’re pressed so close, your lips seeming to tingle with electricity, so you ground yourself by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and throwing yourself in headfirst. 

It’s the last thing you remember doing before you’re waking up in his room in the middle of the night, as you sometimes do, at three in the morning with Tom’s body matching the curve of your own. You sit there as the little spoon for several minutes, trying to recollect how you got here, but nothing comes to mind. In fact, not a whole lot comes to mind. Everything is very peaceful and you don’t feel like disturbing that. Usually your mind is much more tumultuous, so you’re not really sure what’s going on, but that doesn’t bother you. You’re filled with a very pleasant warm floating feeling, and as you slip back down into sleep it occurs to you that this new feeling and the fact that the last thing you remember is kissing Tom might have some sort of correlation.

When you next wake, it’s a good six hours later and Tom is gone again. The feeling is gone and you’re left with a mere memory of his lips pressed to yours, to your skin—well, that would certainly explain your neck, now wouldn’t it, you think as you glance into a nearby mirror—and you’re really not sure what else went on last night, but considering how out of your head you must’ve been, you don’t think he so much as touched you in a sexual manner. Which is fine. You’d rather it be when you’d remember it, were it to happen at all.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone to your house, you realize, and you’re not sure how many people noticed you were gone. It only just became a concern. You wouldn’t have had time to say goodbye, since he practically whisked you away the minute he knew that you were on to him. But you remember how lonely, how lost and hopeless he had looked, and decide that it was definitely worth it. Anything was worth it, really, to make him satisfied again. You’d kill to see him smile. Thankfully, you don’t have to, because when he’s happy, you’re happy, and apparently vice versa. He can’t seem to stop himself from grinning whenever he hears you laugh, and that in itself makes you feel good about yourself. Tom Hiddleston is undeniably attracted to you. Who knew?

Well, in all honesty, you didn’t. Yesterday’s kiss is the only sign of real affection he’s ever shown you. You suppose his feelings for Arasen were getting in the way, but now things should be much more pleasant for both of you. And maybe he’ll stop making that pitiful face whenever you talk about loving him. Loki does the exact same thing and Tom’s never made a face at him that you’ve noticed. Then again, he might’ve moved on past that point in the decades they’ve known each other. Which reminds you that you were going to ask how many languages he had to learn over the course of his life. You’re pretty sure that there’s nothing you want more at the moment than to fall asleep to Tom whispering sweet nothings into your ear in another language. 

Being a telepath, of course, he finds that out soon enough. He doesn’t remember most of the languages he had to learn in the past, and about half of the ones he can recall are dead languages. In his defense, he says, Loki remembers most of the ones he doesn’t, so there’s not as much need for him to recall each and every one. He calls Loki back into him one night because of this, merges with him so that he might sing you German lullabies. He’s paying so much more attention to you now, and you rather like it, because in spite of all the new people he’s got on his side, he chose you to stand beside him. And now you’re in love, or at least you are to the best of your knowledge. You suppose that he could be faking, but there would be little point in it. You had followed him just as diligently before, cared about him just as much. And were he faking, he probably wouldn’t put such a concerted effort into making you feel good about yourself.

You’re also pretty sure that he wouldn’t be scrambling around the kitchen at three in the afternoon, his only response as to why being “You’ll see later.” That promises something interesting, but he ushers you away so that he can keep it a surprise. So instead, you spend the afternoon teaching Loki how to play Just Dance on the Wii you got a few weeks ago. He’s not very good at it. At one point during one of the songs, you trip and fall to the ground laughing. He moves to help you up, but trips over you and you both lie there in a cackling heap for at least ten minutes. Around six thirty, at which point you’ve started debating whether you should watch a movie or not, he fades as he is prone to do when Tom wants him back inside his own head. Only seconds later, you hear him call out for you to enter the dining room.

The lights are low, the only illumination coming from a strategically placed candle on the table and leaking in from the living room, where he’s presumably lit the fireplace. He smiles at you in the dim light, gesturing for you to take your seat. You do so, and notice that the meal is apparently a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs to share between the two of you. It’s incredibly reminiscent of a certain cheesy romantic scene from a certain Disney movie, so you give him a disbelieving look as you sit down. He shrugs. “What can I say? I like the classics.”

You spend the meal chatting with him as you eat spaghetti and sip your drink—wine, apparently, which you didn’t expect to be as good as it is but he refuses to let you have more than the half a glass he provided you with at the start and you suppose that if he wanted this night to remain classy he would have to keep a lid on how much he let you drink—and much sooner than you expected, the plate is empty. You never found a shared noodle, and he looks rather disappointed about this. You stand up with a smile and walk around the table, then lick a dab of sauce off of the corner of his mouth before moving in for a kiss.

He’s apparently not done yet, though, as he leads you into the living room and seats you on the couch next to him in front of the fireplace. It’s warm and romantic as you cuddle with him, and you’re only sitting there for a few minutes before he pipes up again.

“You know, when I first decided that we should have a dinner together, I considered making lamb with fava beans and a nice chianti, just to see if you’d get the reference.” You shake your head as you laugh under your breath. “That isn’t even right.” This makes him go pensive momentarily, then state, “Define ‘right.’”

“Well, it’s… the opposite of wrong,” you say, shrugging. You hadn’t really expected to get into an intellectual discussion while cuddling after a sappy romantic dinner. Then again, you never really seem to expect it when Tom springs his existential questions on you, so this isn’t exactly news. He chuckles, then returns, “Define ‘wrong.’”

“Incorrect?” you offer, then shake your head. “Immoral, more like. Generally speaking, taking the life of another is wrong. Taking things without asking in general, and hurting others on purpose.” Tom laughs at that. “Then what makes my referencing a fictional serial killer ‘wrong?’ What he did was wrong, but acknowledging that it happened in a work of art shouldn’t be. Can you even define what ‘right’ is without stating what ‘wrong’ is first? Helping others is right, isn’t it? And it’s the opposite of wrong, which is harming others? Were we not to have what is wrong, could we still have what is right?”

“I’m sure you could still do what’s right,” you say, “but I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t call it that. If we didn’t have right and wrong, we couldn’t have good and evil, either. Everyone would just be people who do different things, and the world would probably be a lot more destructive. I think more people would act out of line if they didn’t have the obligation to be good, to do the right thing.”

“So you’re saying people are inherently selfish,” he offers, and you shrug. “Yeah, a bit.”

“But what if they had a guiding force? There was no right and wrong, because they could only do the right thing? What would you call it then?” This puzzles you. You’re not really sure what it would be called if people were forced to do what was right. At least, not at first.

“Mind control,” you finally say with a laugh, but it doesn’t take you long to realize that Tom isn’t laughing with you. He just looks at you, his expression unreadable save for a dash of detectable melancholy, the same you’d seen before he changed your mind. After a while, he turns back to look at the fire, and you lay your head on his shoulder. This makes him smile, finally, so you feel a bit better about yourself. You cuddle in silence for a long time before he speaks up again. “I was so alone before I met you. So steeped in my own darkness. But you’ve become like a beacon to me, a refuge. You’ve led me to the right path. And for that, I must thank you.” He presses his lips against the top of your head briefly, then continues. “You’re my light. You provide illumination for the black hole that I’ve become.”

You give him a strange look. “Black holes trap and consume light,” you respond. “Their gravity is so strong that light can’t escape.” He blinks, then makes a face. “Not exactly the metaphor I was intending, then,” he says, and you laugh, and this time, he laughs with you. In spite of the lack of forethought involved in his comparison, you realize that even if he’s a black hole, you’re not sure you wanted to escape his gravity anyway. Because you’re his light, and that’s not your job. You’re his beacon, a lighthouse on the stormy sea.

Tom has been asleep and snoring lightly for about ten minutes when you finally fall asleep with him, curled up together on the couch.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 5)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 5: You show the lights that stop me, turn to stone

You’re running out of food. Loki has completely lost it without Tom around, and despite all your reassurance, he’s curled up on the couch with his knees tucked into his chest. With his armor on in such a vulnerable position, he looks ridiculous and pitiful, but you dare not tell him that. You’re searching the fridge when he speaks quietly, just barely loud enough for you to hear.

“I’ll give the name to you,” he croaks out. You freeze, turning toward him. “What?” His voice is hoarse and weak, having only used it for sorrow in the past few days. You don’t want to admit it, but in his wrecked state, he’s sort of beautiful, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him at this point, so you humor him. “What for?”

“So you can help him better. So someone can hold him in check, but he’s not in danger like he would be with the other humans. I’ll do it if you agree to let him help you. And I’ll give it to you again, if he takes it away when he does.” That’s the most he’s spoken in one sitting in twelve days, and quite frankly you’re shocked. He’s trying to help you at Tom’s expense. Though, you suppose, he’s reasoning it’s for Tom’s good, but you plan on leaving as soon as you can. But you can’t, you have to see if it actually works first. Then you can have Tom take you home. And you’ll know whether it works or not—if it doesn’t, you were sort of screwed anyway, weren’t you? So you nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Something tells you in the back of your mind that this whole “helping” business, should you actually go through with it, isn’t going to be a whole lot like helping you, but you ignore that. You knew that already and you didn’t need to be reminded.

He smiles, then gestures for you to come over. Licking his lips, he prepares himself before he whispers, “Tasedio.” It sounds right enough, so you smile, thank him, and give him a pat on the back. Loki looks to appreciate this, and tries to sleep. 

Tom returns sometime later that week, and you’re glad you finally get to test it. Loki looks completely relieved, standing and hugging Tom for a good ten minutes before the redhead protests slightly. He seems concerned that you don’t seem to miss him as much as you did when he left. Of course, then Loki tells him what happened, and he asks to speak with you in your bedroom. It looks like it’s now or never. He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak as you enter, but you beat him to it and try out the name Loki told you. Tom freezes, his gaze suddenly blank, and you smile a little in victory. It works. You’ve won.

Then he blinks, focuses on you, and says, “What?” You tell him to stop, but he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, you… Never mind. You should be aware that saying my name doesn’t give you infinite control over me, rather, it’s temporary and more limited than you might hope. And now we’re going to work through this as I had planned.” He pulls in a breath, then exhales heavily as his voice changes, ever so slightly, and you get that numb feeling again as he speaks. “Don’t say my name again until after we’re finished. In fact, don’t say anything until after we’re finished.” You feel your vocal chords drop out of use, leaving you silent and distraught.

Your eyes fill with tears as your head thrashes from side to side. He frowns, moving over to you so that he can place his palm gently on your forehead and apply just enough pressure to tip your head back and get you to stop moving. “Shh,” he says, as if trying to soothe you. “It’s going to be alright.” With those words, you seem to fall into a semiconscious state where you are painfully aware of your mind rather than your body, and everything there seems like the physical realm. Tom is there. You’re standing across from him, looking back at him. He seems different somehow, colder, more clinical. A chair seems to appear out of nowhere, and he sits in it, fluid as ever. Then he waves his hand, and it begins.

It starts with an electric feeling in your right wrist. It’s a jolt of pain, an implacable one, one that spreads like wildfire up your arm until every hair stands up on end and every pore feels like it’s burning. You scream, but no sound comes out, and the pain spreads up your shoulder, across and down your back, up into your head, down your other arm, soon everything is in pain, everything feels electric and tender and your body is consumed with the feeling. Your knees give out as they too succumb to the weakness, the agony; and before you know it you’re writhing on the floor, spasming as tears involuntarily streak down your face. Somewhere in the back of your head, you realize that this isn’t nearly enough to break you, so there has to be more. You instantly regret realizing it. Tom shakes his head from across the room, which you can hardly see through the tears. He waves his hand again, and the pain is gone. You pant as you sit up, wiping your eyes, and look over at him. His eyes are cold as they stare back at you. “No one is coming to save you,” he states. “None of your friends, your family, were important or powerful enough to help. I wonder, would they have come at all, anyway? Are you worth their trouble?” He falls silent again, and you suddenly can’t see him anymore. It’s just you, alone, in this sea of endless white. You don’t want to be alone here, not with Tom—

As you think this, a shrill, piercing noise hits your eardrums and splits through them, causing you to fall to the ground. You can’t make a sound. What did you do wrong? Why are you being punished? Why… The noise gets louder as you ask questions, higher and higher pitched until you are in too much pain to think. Your body spasms again and you sink completely down onto the floor. It begins to die down as you refrain from thought, slight flares only running through when you allow a stray concept to pass through your mind. It’s difficult and you don’t know how you’re managing to do it, but you are. At least, until you realize that you are, at which point it starts again. The object is clear: train yourself not to think. But before you do so, you scream out one question before nearly passing out from the pain.

“Is this what you did to Loki?” The answer is simple, and he responds within your head. “No. What I did to Loki was purely psychological. I can afford to go all-out with you, since we don’t share a body.” Then fire races through your mind, and the noise is so loud, and everything is painful until you force yourself to stop thinking. This time, you manage in its entirety, your mind going completely blank as you lie in the whiteness. You can’t afford to think, not with the agony that would ensue. He speaks again, his voice soothing compared to the barrage of sound from before. “What is your purpose?” he asks you, and you find yourself thinking without pain. This is a relief—you’re not sure you could’ve answered without thought. “I don’t know,” is your final answer, and pain shoots through your body. 

This continues for several hours, maybe even days, it feels like. He asks you a question, you reply that you don’t know, and then there’s more pain. The cycle continues, over and over until you are nothing but a sobbing wreck on the floor, your nerves on fire, your cheeks puffy and your throat sore from tears and screams. You don’t even remember why you’re here, why he’s asking questions, and whether he’s the one hurting you or he’s just a stand-in for someone else. You beg for mercy with what is left of your voice, beg him to stop asking questions because you know you’re too broken to know the answer now, even if you ever did. And strangely enough, he seems to find this satisfactory, and appears before you again with an outstretched hand and a smile.

“Would you like me to help you find them?” he asks as you take his hand and he pulls you to your feet. “The answers.” You nod fervently, drying off your face and swallowing hard. “Good. Then let’s begin.” He leads you to a bed, where you lie down as he stands beside you, pulling a soft, silky blanket over you. It feels wonderful on your fried nerves, on your exhausted body. “First,” he says, “you need to rest. No answers will show themselves if you don’t feel refreshed.” This confuses you, since you weren’t that way before and he still expected you to answer, but something in the back of your mind twinges and you realize that doubting him is probably not the best idea. So you close your eyes and relax, letting his voice wash over you as you fall asleep.

The next time you open your eyes, he tells you everything. He fills you up with knowledge, with purpose. He tells you all the answers to the questions he asked—what your purpose is, what can you do, what can you give to the world—all these answers personalized to you, and they all feel so right when he says them that you don’t fight it. In fact, you’re surprised that you didn’t come up with those answers yourself when he asked. Finally, he finishes with your place in his plans, which wasn’t a question you thought he’d asked, but you could be wrong. You have to be, because the alternative is Tom being wrong, and he’s not wrong. “You’re going to stand beside me,” he says, looking at you with a loving smile, “making sure that I don’t start being too unjust. Of course, you will serve and worship me as the rest do, but to a lesser degree, since you will be close to my equal.”

The thought should horrify and repulse you, and you can feel somewhere in the back of your head that it used to, but you simply can’t find anything wrong with the idea anymore, so you nod. Of course. You’d do anything for Tom. He did fix you, after all, just like Loki said he would. You’re brand new and you feel amazing, and you don’t really mind that you had to be tortured to get there for some reason. It just doesn’t occur to you as a bad thing, if the end result is this.

So you smile at him, agreeing with everything he tells you even if you don’t really understand what he’s saying right now, and curl up next to him so that you can sit in his arms and just enjoy his company. There’s nothing greater in the world, or if there was, there isn’t now. And it took you so long to realize it, and you’re disappointed in yourself, but it finally hits you how much you want Tom’s plan to go through, and as soon as he can possibly pull it off.

You don’t think about how the old you would react to all this, because that you, the version of you that he had said he was protecting, is dead now, replaced by the one he rebuilt in your mind. When you open your eyes back in the real world, he has taken his hand off your forehead and is now holding it out to you. “Is this what you want now?” he asks, and the only response you could ever give is “More than anything.” That doesn’t make him smile like it usually would, but he nods like it was the right answer and leaves you alone for a while.

In fact, it’s a very long while. Loki isn’t around either, so you don’t have to worry about him having an existential crisis, but Tom is gone for a very long time and that worries you some until he returns with news of where he’s been. He’s been spreading his influence, of course. More of his close fans have been convinced that this cause matters far more than they may have first bargained. He’s starting to build up a base of support. Worshippers, you think. Just like you.

So that night, you sit in bed with him and smile at him as he drifts off. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him, probably a week, maybe more. You don’t remember. You just remembered that he wasn’t there, and all the days seemed to blur together into one long period of Not With Tom. But now you’re With Tom, and that’s all that matters, so you crawl closer to him in bed and press your lips between his shoulder blades. He flinches slightly—he might’ve been near sleep, in which case you’re sorry, and you figure he can hear this anyway since he’s a telepath—and then turns toward you and stares at you in the dark for a while before meeting your lips gently, giving you just enough room to pull away if things go badly.

But they don’t. It’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. You find yourself reaching toward him, your hands grabbing anywhere you can find to hold on and ground yourself in this world, threading through his curly hair and wrapping around his waist. He lets a hand rest on your shoulders, the other gently placed on your hip. Never in your life have you felt more loved. All previous loves are lost in your mind in this moment, completely wiped out by how good you feel and how much this means to you. Nothing could ever be better. Something inside you snaps and changes, sealing your new self into place. But before it dies out, something reminds you that you have unfathomable power over Tom, if you can only figure out how it works. You decide that you’re going to use it for his own good, should you discern its use.

Not that you would ever use it for anything that could hurt him. Not now.

  The next time you see Loki, on the other hand, he and Tom are having a discussion and he’s wearing one of those suits he seems so fond of, with a scarf like he always is. Tom’s wearing a suit, too. You feel a bit left out. Tom invites you to come sit with them, to join in the discussion, but you’re not sure what they’re talking about, so you just sit there for a while. Tom mentions how people know Loki a bit too well for him to blend in and aid in their plans at the moment. Loki seems disappointed, which you can completely understand. You want to help just as much as he does, but there’s really nothing you can do. Not yet, anyway. You remind him of this, and he smiles a little at you. Maybe you did make him feel better. Either way, both of you are currently unable to help Tom, so backing off is the best option.

He likes that you take his side on the argument, and scoots closer to you in thanks. And for a while, everything is right with the world, even if you don’t know why either of them is in formalwear, or what the hell Loki is doing with his hands.

After a while of being mutually left behind with him, you decide that Loki might not be such an asshole after all. That he’s more like you than you thought, and that maybe you’d been too harsh on him. And he admits that he’d thought you were too soft, but that hadn’t been the case at all. And so you grow to respect him, and he starts to respect you and your standing. He is technically below you, after all. After you realize that, you’re not sure it was for the better. But you’re pretty certain it wasn’t for the worst.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 4)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 4: And I'm not keeping now the strength I need to push me

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice as steady as you can make it. You don’t want to show fear, not now. Loki gives you a condescending look. “Just because Thomas thinks you can handle being alone doesn’t mean I do. And what a shame that he trusts you for no reason, considering what you do when he’s not around.” He shakes his head. “Going through his things. Surely you know better.” You frown at him, then look at the bowl he has in his hands. “Can you even digest that? I thought he split off—“

“Don’t change the subject,” Loki snaps, pointing his spoon at you. “What else were you planning on doing?” Now it’s your turn to shake your head. “Nothing. I read his letters and then I decided not to do any more. Besides, it’s not like you’re supposed to be here either. If you tell him I was reading something private of his, I can just tell him that you were here to begin with like he specifically said you wouldn’t be. He said he trusted me on my own,” you retort. Loki smirks. “A clever tactic, especially considering he thinks I’m just an extension of him. He would be lead to believe that some part of him didn’t really trust you enough to be out on your own… I admire that sort of wit.”

“You’d get into more trouble than I would,” you remind him, and his smile falls quickly. “Well, this will have to remain our little secret, then, won’t it?” You shrug. “I don’t see why I should keep it a secret. The worst you can do is tell him I read some letters on his desk. He’ll know you’re lying otherwise.” He raises an eyebrow at you, but otherwise continues eating his cereal. You can tell that he’s thinking of some way to trick you, to turn the tables on you before you even know what’s going on. The fact that he can probably do it just pisses you off. “Fine,” you concede, before he comes up with a plan. “Today can just be a secret between us. Not like he isn’t going to find out anyway, you share a brain.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t hide things from him,” he replies, grinning. “I can’t directly tell him something I know to be false, but I can lie by omission. And do. Frequently.” You glare at him. “How are you here anyway?” Loki laughs openly, clearly pleased with your question. “Oh, you’ll like this answer. Do you remember when Thomas told you that if he were worshipped enough, treated as a god, he would gain more powers? The same applies to me. So many of your friends, of your kind, treat us as gods that I have the strength to manifest on my own without his knowledge. They may not make sacrifices to us, but they have more faith in us than they do in conventional deities. And some truly do worship me, because of my new influence. You humans are wonderful creatures.”

You can feel your face getting hot with rage, so you turn around and walk away from him in a huff. He doesn’t follow you, thankfully, at least not yet. You assume he will once he’s done with his cereal, since he’s here to make sure you don’t do anything that will hurt Tom in the long run. Or, maybe, to make sure that you do. That’s a troubling thought if you ever had one. He is the god of mischief and he doesn’t seem to get along well with his host, so it’s plausible, but you hope it’s not the case. “I don’t understand,” you mutter under your breath, “how he can claim that you’re friends when you want to contradict everything he does. You don’t even like him.”

“Presumptuous brat,” he spits at you. “Thomas is my closest friend. My only friend.” You roll your eyes. “Did you ever consider that’s because he’s the only one willing to put up with how you act? Or maybe it’s just because he has to, because otherwise he’d go insane.” You turn toward him again and notice that, strangely enough, your words are actually distressing him. You stop that train of thought, not particularly wanting to watch Loki have a full-on meltdown, and instead change the subject. “You have fangirls, though, all over the internet. You know that.”

“They aren’t capable of helping me like he is.” He shakes his head, frowning. “We talk, but that’s all. I’m a little rough on him, but I never mean to hurt him. Everything I do is for his good.” That makes you scoff. “And you having sex with me would be for his good?” you ask, and he bursts out laughing. “He’s keeping his distance from you too much,” he replies, “and I thought it might warm him up to moving a little faster with you. And it did.” This stops you cold. You’re pretty sure he’s lying—he is the god of lies—but if he weren’t, why would he do that? What motivation does he have to help Tom, when he only seems to get in the way of whatever Loki has planned? You ask him this, and he does have an answer, and when you hear it, you’re not sure you wanted to.

“We didn’t get along at all for the longest time. Constantly bickering… it was all we ever did, and he practically hated me. I didn’t like him particularly well, either. I wanted the others to ally with him, and he could advise them on how to make the world better. That was all that I wanted. He didn’t want that, he didn’t think that was how things were supposed to go, and he ended up killing them all. That frustrated me to no end. Then the movie Thor happened, and he let me develop myself for an entire movie, essentially… I found myself that way. Before, I had just been an annoying voice in the back of his head. Now, I was Loki Odinson.

“Then he started work on The Avengers. He didn’t quite know at first how to show that I as a character had been turned to the cause of Thanos. He didn’t know how he could do such a thing. So he… began mentally experimenting on me. Putting me through scenarios, seeing what it took to break me down to nothing. And he did it with finesse. When he was finished, I was little more than a sniveling wreck at his feet begging for mercy. But then… then he built me back up. He gave me mercy, took the pieces of me that he’d left and rebuilt me better than I’d ever been. I was new, filled with purpose and strength like I’d never been before. Then I knew that my reason for being wasn’t to aid the others that he’d killed, or to encourage him to do the same. All along, I was meant to serve him, because I knew from my very creation that freedom really is life’s great lie. It was only then that I discovered who the rightful ruler was. If he could break me, a being inside his own mind, and build me back up to such inspiring heights without feeling guilty or altering himself in any way, surely he is the only one capable and deserving of ruling this world. And I will stand by him until he no longer sees it fit.”

You don’t give yourself time to process that—you can’t, otherwise you might go into shock—so instead you ask, “Then why did he accuse you of being Atusiel?” He smiles and nods. “Sometimes I wonder too. I suppose he thinks at times that I want him to rule because I can’t, and that he’s the next best option. But I never wanted to rule, I was just pretending like all actors do. Even if I did, a throne would suit me ill. Thomas is far better than I at ruling.” Your mind races, trying to find another question before you start thinking too hard about everything. “What’s he going to do to rule? Do you know how he plans to get there?” Loki shakes his head and looks away. “He has not told me, nor do I need to know. It has not been a place where he has needed my advice. Though, I suppose, if he were to do the same to the rest of the world as he has done to me, that would work just fine. To build everyone in the world up stronger than they’ve ever been. It would be breathtaking to see.”

“Did he mention ever planning to do it again?” is your last question, supposing he would have told Loki if he felt guilty about doing it and never wanted to create followers in that way again. Again, Loki shakes his head. “No, but he did not say he didn’t. In fact, I was under the impression that he was going to start on you very soon, so that we could all work together more efficiently.” You stare at him, horrified, and start backing away. “No, wait,” he starts, “it only hurts for a little while. After that, you’ve never felt better in your life, and you’re like that all the time. It’s amazing.”

You try to turn tail and run, but Loki is faster, so much faster than you, and you’re unconscious before you’ve even taken a step down the hall.

  When you wake again, it’s in your own room, lying on your bed. Tom is sitting at the edge of the bed, frowning at you. This isn’t good. You make a move to back up, but he’s too quick, too strong; and before you know it, he has you pinned down by the wrists with one hand as he makes eye contact. You squirm, shivering in fear, completely unaware of his intent. Does he know that you know yet? Or is he just concerned for your well-being? “Please, just listen to me,” he pleads, “hear me out.” And you suddenly can’t help it. It’s as if he’s gently running his fingertips over your mind in a way that makes it feel pleasant and numb. Your head sinks into the pillow and he smiles, letting go of your wrists. You don’t move, suddenly docile and compliant. You’ll do whatever he asks of you. “I’m going to be very straightforward with you whenever I do that,” he remarks, sitting on his heels in front of you on the bed. “I could change your mind very subtly over a long period of time, so much that you wouldn’t even notice it, but I don’t want to lose who you are. That’d defeat the purpose of everything I’m doing.

“The truth is,” he starts as he gently strokes your cheek, “I just want to help you. Your people. Not only is my presence in the lives of your friends a positive experience for them, it allows them to spread my influence, my influence that I’m going to use in order to make everyone happy and bring about peace. I despise conflict.” He shakes his head. “There’s so much fighting going on, and I hate it. I was given the ability to stop it all, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.” You can finally feel yourself growing able to speak again, so you manage to croak out, “How?” He looks away, muttering “It’s not important.” You give him a look, and he sighs. “I don’t know yet. It’s still in the works. I was thinking you could help, once you’re… better. I do need you, probably more than anyone else in the world right now. You will help me, won’t you?” Then you realize: he’s giving you the choice. He’s giving you the option to turn him down if you feel like it’s necessary. Which, of course, you do. He tortured Loki and sounds like he’s intending to do the same to you—what exactly does he mean by “better?”—and you’re not willing to take that risk. You suppose that he’s going to do this anyway, but maybe you can tell someone, and…

And who would believe you? Who could overpower him? He is immortal and practically omniscient. There is no conceivable way to beat him that you can find. Except, perhaps, through his name; which you don’t know and aren’t going to find any time soon by your measure. Not to mention that no one else alive knows it, either. The only way of finding it out is by staying here and talking to him. Which would apparently entail helping him, unless he would allow you to stay without helping him. Then you realize that you have a plan, and you hope that Tom has been making good on his promise not to read your mind.

“No,” you reply, and he looks crestfallen. “But,” you add, and he perks up a little, “give me some time around here with the idea and I might be convinced otherwise.” There. That should buy you some time to get everything in order, and then you can leave and get someone to help you to stop him, considering you can get them to believe you in the first place. You can already feel that this plan is probably going to fail, but despite that, you feel pretty good about it. You’re not sure why, but think it better not to question it at this point. Hope is a welcome alternative.

Tom seems to have mixed feelings about this suggestion. On one hand, he doesn’t want you to leave, but on the other, he knows there may be a chance that you won’t be convinced, though he probably doesn’t know how large that chance really is. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I’ve terrified you so badly with this plan. I just don’t know how else to achieve this goal. I hope you can forgive me.” He tips his head down a little to you, like he’s showing respect, then gets off your bed and almost walks out of the room before you say, “It won’t make you happy.”

He freezes in the doorway. You half-expect him to turn around and start depreciating you, or to somehow mess with your head, but instead he just sighs and says, “I know.” And in a way, that’s the best outcome, but also the most depressing. It’s all the more complicated when you realize that despite what he’s done, he’s not a complete monster. And when you realize that, you’re not sure what Tom is anymore.

After that, he disappears for two weeks, and not even Loki knows where he went.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 3)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 3: And I'm not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat

Since you fell asleep with him, Tom's been avoiding you for days. You notice that Loki has been popping up more frequently as well, and not often to talk to his host. More and more, he's been conversing with you instead. In fact, the first time you see them have another conversation is the first time you've seen Tom in a week and a half. They’re speaking quietly, and the redhead is sitting behind you, massaging your back and on occasion your head as he plays with your hair, and you wonder if it’s his intent to distract you from his conversation. If so, he’s doing a damn good job. Unfortunately, it isn’t quite good enough. Though your head is resting on your arms, you can still tell who’s speaking based on proximity and tone—Tom sounds a bit more melancholy, whereas Loki is all biting sarcasm and impatience. You can get the general idea of the conversation (Tom makes a self-depreciating statement, Loki replies with an affirmation and a suggestion, Tom details why it won’t work, Loki scoffs at him and insults his intelligence levels) but you can’t retain exact wording. As soon as you hear it, it’s gone from your mind.

Then you hear Loki ask Tom if he can have sex with you. He freezes, his hand just barely touching your scalp. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, desperately trying to restart his mind. Finally, after what seems like forever, he barks out a sharp “no.” Loki presses the question, asking why he can’t, and Tom responds with a vague answer you can’t make heads or tails out of. Apparently Loki can, though. “Just because you’re not going to do it because of your so-called morals doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have fun,” he retorts. Tom is seething now, you can feel it in his stiff movements and hear it creeping into the edges of his voice.

“Loki,” he begins, “we’re the same person. We share a body. Whatever you do is something I’ve done. It would defeat the purpose of me restraining myself on the basis of consent if you didn’t do the same. There’s a reason I’m not going to do it, you know that. Atu’s powers are in me now, and I don’t trust myself with them, let alone you. You’d probably control them into wanting you more than they do. I’d… I’d fuck something up, I know it.” He scoots in closer to you, and you can feel warm radiating from him. “I’d change everything on accident, probably. I’d create someone incapable of criticizing me. Or I’d go too far and make them hate me.”

“You neglect to put enough faith in your own abilities,” Loki responds, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face. Tom retaliates, “I do have faith in my abilities,” his voice sharp and unhappy. “In fact, I have too much faith in them. Atusiel was a psychopath who was obsessed with manipulating others. I willingly took that man and made him a part of me. Oh, I have faith. I think that part of me I’ve created could overtake me at any second and destroy all I hold dear. And I’ve started to have suspicions that it’s manifesting as you.”

You can hear the bladed edge on Loki’s voice, and he sounds like he has a grin plastered to his face that is so falsely saccharine you could go into a sugar coma. “Thomas,” he says, “you created me all on your own. I may be a less kind portion of you, and more manipulative, but I am still you, not your archnemesis. This potential always resided in  you without Atusiel’s aid.”

Tom stops for a moment, then removes his contact from you as he stands. You sit up slowly, blinking all the while. “Are you doing well?” he asks, smiling at you. You nod, and he takes his leave. You are left alone with Loki, and the thought frightens you. He walks over to you, smirking.

“I know you heard all of that,” he says. “Thomas is off his game recently, but I can still use the gifts he has. You’ll have to forgive him for being distracted. It is sort of your fault, after all.” He shrugs, giving you a side glance. “He’s been losing sleep over what to do with you. You may wish to check up on him tonight, since he’s been having trouble.” He saunters off to the kitchen, and you silently decide that the cinematic Loki is less of a blatant asshole than the real deal, despite the attempts at genocide, world domination, and general mayhem that came with the movie version. Okay, that rationale is pretty shitty, you’ll admit. But this Loki is still an asshole, and isn’t exhibiting any of the traits that would normally make you forgive him. On that note, you leave him to whatever the hell he’s doing (is he even capable of eating?) and go toward Tom’s room as quietly as you can manage. 

He hears you coming anyway, which you can chalk up to the telepathy. When you open the door, he’s sitting up and looking at you, his chest bare and the waistband of his jeans poking up above the blanket on his legs. “You shouldn’t listen to him,” he murmurs. “He’s just trying to manipulate you in order to have more leverage against me. We’ve been fighting for months and I’d rather you not get caught up in it. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” He shakes his head, looking at the floor. “You can come in, if you’d like. I won’t be sleeping much tonight, I’m afraid.” You shrug and enter, closing the door behind you and sitting down beside him on the bed. The two of you sit next to one another in silence for a while before he curses under his breath. “I’m sorry. I forgot about you not wanting me to use my telepathy.” You smile and look at him, despite it being dark. “It’s alright. It takes practice to break an old habit.” You hear him nod, and his hand finds its way onto yours. “You never did end up telling me what you’re up to like you promised you would.”

“I’m holding off,” he replies. “It’s going to take a while for you to get used to the idea, you see, and I want to make sure you’re ready when I tell you about it. All I can say right now is that I apologize for not taking action earlier in time. I need you for this, so I had to wait, but I still wish I could’ve done something before now that would’ve gotten things along a bit faster. Maybe then the world wouldn’t be in the state it’s in right now. And I’m… sorry. I’m so sorry things are like this. So many people are ignorant and childish, but I’m going to fix it. I’m going to fix it all. I promise.” His grip tightens, and you’re not sure what he’s going on about.

“Tom?” you ask, a waver in your voice. “Are you okay?” He shakes his head. “If I hadn’t killed everyone else, we wouldn’t be in this situation. The world’s corruption and chaos levels wouldn’t be rising so high. We were all supposed to work together to keep you in check, and I’ve slain everyone else that was supposed to help me. So now I have to take this task upon myself. But with the powers of everyone else combined, I think I can do it.” You look at him strangely. “I don’t know if you can do whatever you’re planning to do all alone, though. It’s hard to do things alone.”

“I know,” he replies, looking at you again. “That’s why I have you.” A warm feeling creeps into your chest, bringing a smile to your face. You’re not sure how you feel about said fuzzy feelings, though, since you’re pretty sure that falling for Tom at this point in knowing him would only end badly for you, especially with his entire repertoire of powers. Not to mention Loki shares all of them and would certainly use it to his advantage. Tom may have promised to try and not use his telepathy, but Loki would never swear such a thing, and even if he did, he’s the god of lies. You decide to try and side with Tom more often if at all possible, should you get dragged into more arguments between them. Then again, with how subtle they can doubtlessly both be, would you even know if you were? The thought frightens you. How do you know that Tom isn’t using you as a pawn altogether? How can you be certain that he’s well-intentioned?

He turns back toward the wall, shaking his head again. “It’s going to be difficult to convince you of my ideas, that’s for sure, and I’m not going to spring them on you quite yet, but I do have some things I want you to think about so that I can get a better idea of how you feel.” You nod: this sounds reasonable enough. Smiling, he begins his questions. “The world is in a bad way right now. There are so many people not getting along, murdering, thieving, and it’s making the quality of life for everyone around them go down. The real question is, what can we do to stop it? Can we change how humans are wired to make them more concerned with their fellow people of their own free will? Or would one have to essentially brainwash the entire race and force them into the mindset? Are humans as a race even capable of selflessness on a massive scale? Even we were said to be a superior form of being, and we were overcome by selfishness and bids for power. Is it really that plausible to believe that humans can be better than that? Can they be both free and kind, or does it have to be one or the other? And was it our so-called superiority that caused our downfall?” 

He stops, leaving time for you to think. Sure, you have faith in humanity to some degree, but to be honest, you’re not sure your race is capable of mass-giving. People are by nature so centered around themselves that you don’t know how anyone could change that, especially on as large of a scale as Tom seems to have in mind. But that just raises more questions, like “what is he actually going to do?” He had some suspicious wording—“essentially brainwash the entire race and force them into the mindset—“ and that worries you a great deal. What if he actually gains the ability to do that? And why is this so concerning for him?

You would continue along this line of thought, but you find your ideas slipping away faster than you can form them. This is also alarming, and you can’t pinpoint the cause, though after a few minutes you stop caring and just ride it out. Tom looks guilt-ridden, frowning apologetically at you, and you’re suddenly not sure why. Weren’t you just having a conversation about making the human race selfless? Why would he feel bad about that? It’s very perplexing, for certain. You squeeze his hand in sympathy, and rather than smiling, he looks even worse. This doesn’t exactly do wonders for your self-esteem.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and pulls you in closer. “I’m so sorry I keep proving that I don’t deserve these abilities. That I shouldn’t be the one mapping out this plan, or trying to carry it out.” He tries to continue, but you interrupt him. “No. No one else could ever pull this off, whatever you have planned. I believe in you.” It doesn’t feel like you’re saying it, but you believe it, so you must be. He seems to appreciate it at any rate, and finally decides to lie down. You lie down next to him and slowly drift off as your bodies instinctively intertwine, and you swear that as you fall asleep, you can hear him apologizing over and over again for what he’s done.

  The next time you see him, it’s the next day, around one in the afternoon. He’s sitting with his legs spread as always, sprawled out horizontally on a chair with his eyes closed. He looks like he’d just fallen into the chair and passed out, and seems far less worried than he usually does, but even now there’s a slight dent of concern on his face. The house is silent—he must not have let Loki out today. You’re thankful for that. You don’t really want to deal with him, not today.

You’re not sure how you feel about Tom in general right now. He had always seemed so cheerful, so happy about everything, but since you’ve started being around him, he’s been regretful and private more often than you’d have thought. You also find yourself asking questions. What happened to his acting? Shouldn’t he be terribly busy? Or at the very least, shouldn’t he be distracted? Has he put a stop to his entire career for now so that he can put his plan together?

Tom’s eyes flutter open and you take a step back, startled at his sudden awakening. He looks over at you with sleep clouding his eyes, smiling a little. “Hello,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. “Did you sleep well?” You can’t help but grin and shake your head. “Better than you, apparently.” He sits up, propping himself up on his elbows as he blinks away his grogginess. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Not really,” you reply. “I’ve just never seen you sleep before. I wasn’t even sure you needed to.” That gets a chuckle out of him. “Unfortunately, I do. I’d get so much more accomplished if I didn’t.” He gets out of the chair and stretches. “I’ve got to be going now, things to do. Do you want Loki to keep you company?” You consider it for a while. Would he take it harder if you said no? Eventually you shake your head. “I can handle myself.” He nods at you with a smile. “Alright. I trust you can take care of yourself.” With that, he takes his leave, and you are left alone in the house. You could explore, but you’re not sure whether you should or not. Would it be rude to go poking around his house while he wasn’t there? He trusted you enough to let you stay unsupervised, after all. But maybe that means he has nothing to hide, and he doesn’t mind. Curiosity wins out and you end up investigating his room casually—nothing too deep, you don’t want to be too intrusive, but anything that could help you solve the enigma that is Hiddleston would be a wonder to behold.

A few papers, folded up, sit on his desk. You look them over, finding them to be letters written to Arasen. Some of them are about how he regrets taking her life and how much he misses her. Some are about his suspicions toward Loki. Then there’s one, dated earlier today, that talks about how he doesn’t know how to feel about you. He feels like he’s betraying her and himself if he falls for you, but at the same time he’s not sure if he can help himself. He’s trying to hold back Loki’s advances, but he’s not sure how much longer he can do that, either. All his letters are filled with ridiculous amounts of sadness, though you suppose it is appropriate considering the circumstances. You also note that he never once signs the letters. 

You fold the papers back up and put them back where you found them, regretting that you’d walked in here in the first place. You thought maybe you’d find something less depressing than Tom writing letters to his dead lover, though you’re not sure why you thought that would be the case. He does seem the type for sentiment. You’re also conflicted about his feelings for you. Were you just brought here to be a romantic interest, or are you actually supposed to be here to help? So far he hasn’t done a whole lot other than ask you some philosophical questions and cuddle, though as far as you can tell you’re acting as moral support. You really hope you’re meant for more than that. It’d be disappointing if that was all he had planned. Well, not disappointing, but you hope there’s more in store for you at any rate.

After a while, you decide to walk into the kitchen and make yourself some food or something. When you get there, a dark-haired figure is pouring milk onto a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s definitely not supposed to be here. Loki smirks, knowing full well where he’s not supposed to be, and puts the milk back into the fridge.

You had never considered how menacing it could be to perform such a mundane action, but he manages.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 2)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you’re on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can’t ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 2: I had a heart then, but the queen has been overthrown

Finding himself apparently consists of sitting and conversing under the stars for an inordinate amount of time. Tom enjoys it far more than he probably should. Then again, he would be the one to be uncontrollably excited about something so trivial. He seems happier by the time you go back inside, and you wonder if he’s always like this. You end up not eating before you go back to bed. There are too many questions this situation has raised, and a pit of nausea has settled in your stomach. You spend three hours staring at the ceiling before you hear a light knock on the door. Before you can even say “come in,” it’s opening. Right. Telepathy.

“Why are you still awake?” Tom sounds concerned rather than angry. “Are you alright?”

You nod, but he doesn’t believe it. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, giving you plenty of room. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you very much yet, but I’m worried about what will happen when I do.” Staring at the ground, he shuffles his feet on the carpet. “I don’t think you’re going to like it much. Not at first, anyway.”

“I won’t know until you tell me,” you offer. He shakes his head. “Not today, I don’t think. If there are other questions you have, though, I’d be happy to try to answer them as best I can.” You decide there’s probably never been a better time, so you inquire about his abilities. As soon as you ask, he sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging. You move closer to the wall, and he climbs up beside you and chooses to lie down rather than remain sitting. His hands fold on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling as you had done only minutes ago. His eyes, faintly illuminated by the light cracking through the door that he forgot to close, look glassy and distant. It is then that he begins his story.

“There were seven of us, when it all started.” He pauses momentarily, as if not entirely certain he’s going to continue. “Seven immortals, each of us with eternal life and a different ability, as well as the potential to become gods, were we worshipped enough. It would give us more power than we already had.” He goes silent again for a while. “Happened to everyone, in a way, except me. I was the shapeshifter. I preferred to keep myself hidden, to lay low. None of the others really acknowledged me because of it, because I was always running. I was afraid of what I’d do if I stayed around them too much.

“Hirese was first. We’d been around for some time now, maybe three thousand years? Something like that. Anyway, we’d all spread out by that point to interact with the natives. One among us had started acting rather strange and had started meddling with the locals, so I decided to follow him discretely. Hirese had always been able to see the future, but I found out that now it was starting to get to him. He was seeing visions of his death. We thought it impossible. We were immortal, after all, weren’t we? But he started to go insane. Called himself Nero and became an emperor. I pursued him, then tried to kill him. None of us had done it before, trying to kill one another. It worked.”

At this point, he stops for what feels like forever, just staring at the ceiling. It clearly pains him to talk about losing a friend he’d had for millenia, one that had gone by his own hand. But the story, you feel, is only just beginning.

“As soon as the deed was done, I felt the power from his corpse flow into me. Next thing I knew, I was having visions of what was yet to come. Horrible, horrible visions of mounds of bodies from death camps, men entirely clad in silver metal, kings and lords and everything in between. I saw a future in which all of my friends were gone, gone by my hand. And then I turned into Hirese, faked his death, and fled for a very long time. No one saw me for at least another thousand years, save for my good friend and occasional lover Arasen. She understood. We seemed meant for one another. She, on occasion, would wish to lie with another woman. I was more than happy to shift myself so that I might make her happy.” A bit of jealousy runs through you, petty and small as it is, when you realize that Tom has had his heart given to another. But, you remember, the story isn’t over yet. Obviously she’s not still in the picture if he’s telling you this tale now. “That was around the time that I talked to the old Norse people and Loki came into being. I don’t recall whether it was before or after, it was over a thousand years ago. After a few thousand years of living, time starts to blur for you.” He smiles.

“Next there was Roanah. I’d never gotten along very well with him, he was always too… large and brutish for me to understand his mannerisms and personality. I supposed that he would be the next logical extension of testing my powers. Rather, my ability to gather powers. I didn’t know if it was just me that could do this, or if it was each of us. At any rate, he was growing arrogant besides. I admit my reasoning behind killing him wasn’t the best. I think the future sight had driven me a bit insane for a while.” He still stares at the ceiling intently, his frown deepening. You aren’t sure how to react to this blatant admission of homicide, either, so you just lie there as well. “He was going by the name Roosevelt at the time, I believe. Theodore, maybe? I tried to shoot him, to see if it’d work, but it was too impersonal. I had to wait and take him while he was sleeping, since he was practically invulnerable to all else.”

This is getting incredibly ridiculous and you’re not sure how to take it. If he’s telling the truth, you’ve just been told that both Nero and Teddy Roosevelt were murdered by Tom Hiddleston, which makes no sense in any context except maybe this one. You’re still not certain.

“Atusiel found out about my little secret after that, though. He tried to kill me, so he could gain my powers. Always a bit power-mad, Atusiel. We never really got along either, but we were more blatant about it than I’d been with Roanah. It was mostly a matter of I feared that he would win against me. He could verbally manipulate people, you see. Irresistible commands. Terrifying.” He shook his head. “He decided that if he couldn’t kill me, if I kept running, that he would kill Arasen instead. I was incredibly upset, naturally. He tried to force her to kill herself in one of her planes—she flew planes a lot, she was going to be the first around the world—but around your ‘Bermuda triangle,’ his command to crash hit her and the plane went down. She had the power of instant transportation and made it out alive, but she was in a bad way. She was called Amelia at the time, I remember, because I don’t think I’ll ever forget how I was pleading with her to stop, to join together with me to get rid of Atusiel. She…” He chokes up, tears welling in his eyes. “She asked me to kill her, so that she couldn’t kill herself. So that he wouldn’t get her abilities.” His shoulders are shaking, his eyes closed now. You put a hand on his shoulder and are about to speak, but he shakes his head. “So I did. I did it in the least painful way I could think of and I held her for the longest time and wept. Then I hid again. Though, now that I look back on it, postwar Germany wasn’t really the best place to go.”

Things are starting to click together. Atusiel had verbal manipulation. He’d gone to postwar Germany somewhere in the late thirties. This sounds like it’s about to get ugly on a massive scale, though you wonder how he wouldn’t have recognized one of his old companions from before. He nods, apparently having read your mind again. “Yes. Atusiel was your ‘Hitler.’ He’d long since gone mad with power, and this allowed him to utilize it like never before. He’d always dreamt of ruling over your people, of exterminating large groups at random and getting away with it. He had to be stopped. I was glad that others thought the same way, because I didn’t at the time.”

“What?” It slips out of your mouth before you can even think to keep it in. “You didn’t think Hitler needed to be stopped?”

“I was in postwar Germany,” he repeats. “I was there, hearing him directly. Our powers work on one another. I didn’t have a choice. It’s taken at least a few decades to try and rid myself of his lingering influence. It’s tough to recover from. Your people would never manage.” Tom sighs. “I did terrible things while I was there, under his command. It was only near the war’s end that I realized what was going on. I masqueraded as his girlfriend, Eva, after poisoning her. Then I tried to convince him to kill himself, and he did the same to me when he started to suspect I might not have been her. We found out that day that it wasn’t possible for one of our kind to commit suicide. We could only die at the hands of another. So I had to finish him off. With Roanah’s powers in me, I was far stronger than he was, and faster. He didn’t stand a chance, the bastard.” His face twists with rage, and you make a mental note to never piss Tom off. “At that point I realized that I hadn’t needed to kill Arasen. And then I went mad for a bit again.” He pauses again, for a very long time.

But he continues after a while. “Then came Lanadel. She’d always been rather attached to Atusiel. They were an item at one point, I believe. I wanted to be rid of everything that could remind me of what he’d done, of what I’d done to Arasen. I convinced her to overdose. After that it was a simple matter of making it look like that’s all that had happened. I have to say, that wasn’t particularly fun. Drugs are a messy business. She’d been living high-profile, and her powers of… well, sex appeal, were working out well for her. Marilyn, I think she was going by at the time.” He bit his lip. “After she was gone, it didn’t take me long to realize that there was only one of us left other than me, Posurin. Your Vincent Price. He’d always been rather morbid, but I suppose that probably came with telepathy. We were friends before the ordeal with Atusiel started, but afterwords he wanted to lay low and not get involved with any of us for a while. I can’t say as I blame him.

“I came to him a few decades ago, and he asked me to dispose of him. Not because we weren’t friends, or because he didn’t want to be around me: he knew the circumstances. But he’d lost the delight in the idea of living forever. He had tried to dispose of himself several times before, but couldn’t do it. I told him that…” Tom is choking up now, tears welling up in his eyes again. “I told him that the only way that any of us could die is if we were killed by another of our kind. I could put him out of his misery, if he wanted. And he did want it. He pleaded with me, and I did it.” The tears have started rolling down his face as he continues to stare at the ceiling. “I killed all of the people I held closest to me. Everyone I could’ve spent forever with is dead now, and it’s all by my hand. I’m doomed to spend eternity alone now.”

“If you didn’t want to live without your friends, why didn’t you just tell Price to kill you at the same time? Wouldn’t that have worked?” you ask, and he nods slowly. “Yes, it would’ve. But I didn’t want to spoil his release. I never deserved the escape of death. As the price for my crimes, I must spend out eternity without the only things that ever mattered to me. And the thing is, I knew it all from the start, as soon as I’d killed Hirese. I knew that I was going to be alone forever in the end because of my decisions. I chose this path for myself. This was always my destiny. But Loki… Loki thought differently.”

“How long has he been around?” you inquire. He sits up, looking forward now. “He showed up a little before I killed Atusiel. Perhaps my thoughts from that time formed him. I don’t know. At any rate, we’ve been arguing over what I should do from now on for two decades. It’s getting very tiring.” He glances at the door, then back to you. You decide to ask another question. “What does he think you should do?” Tom swallows, now staring at his hands.

“He thinks that I’m alone so that I might do what Atusiel couldn’t, that fate was waiting for one capable of truly ruling over your people. One who would bring about peace and love rather than war and hate. Without freedom, he thinks that we truly will know peace.”

“And what do you think?”

Tom turns away from you as he speaks.

“I don’t know. The bigger question is, do we even know true freedom? Do we ever make our own decisions, or are we merely slaves to fate and circumstance? Can we change the future simply by knowing it, or does that make it even more certain?” He slides off the bed and stands. “I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. I swear I still have some shred of compassion and politeness in me, even if it’s not as much as I had before Hirese went mad. I’m just having trouble adjusting. I mean, if you’d spent three thousand years with the same six people, and then in the last two thousand years you’ve killed each of them on your own… it’s jarring.” He shakes his head. “I’ll try my best to keep you happy. I think that’s what matters.”

As he turns, you call out to him. “Wait.” He stops, turning his head slightly toward you. “Yes?”

“Why did they all have names that were nothing like their ‘mortal’ names?”

Tom chuckles, leaning on the doorframe. “We all had to refer to each other by those mortal names because our real names held an unfathomable sort of power over us. Names do that, you know. We were immune to one another, but were a mortal to find out one of our names, the result would be catastrophic for the one in question. So we called one another our chosen names so that there was no chance of someone else finding out. Since they’re all dead, calling them by their real names doesn’t do anything. That’s why I didn’t mention mine.” You nod. “Are you leaving?”

“Do you want me to?” he asks. You think about it for a while, then shake your head. “No, I’d rather you be here. I think I’d sleep a little better that way.” He gets back into bed beside you, then turns toward you on his side. “You want to spoon, right?” Shuddering, you turn onto your side as well, away from him, and scoot in closer. “Yeah. That mind-reading thing is getting really unnerving, though.”

“I’m sorry.” You can feel his frown through your hair. “I didn’t mean to use it so often. I’ll try not to from here on out, if that’s alright with you.” You smile, curling into him more. “Yeah, that’s fine,” you respond, your eyelids falling already as the warmth of his body presses into yours. For the first time in a while, you’re completely content. The gentle stroke of his hand down your face and his arm around your waist keeping you in close are very comforting. And despite everything he’s just told you about himself, you feel safe. 

It is with that thought that you drift off into a completely dreamless sleep.

[arkiewrites-blog]

Lights (Chapter 1)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: The Avengers (2012), Tom Hiddleston Fandom

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader, A Bit Of Platonic Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Suggestive Material, Mild Frightening Sequences)

Notes: Semi-inspired by and named after "Lights" by Ellie Goulding. Hence the chapter titles as well.

Summary: One day, you start getting suspicious of the way a certain star acts. Then he shows up in your living room, and things go downhill from there. Soon, you're on a downward spiral, following him in a destructive tempest that you can't ride out.

And then you stop, you settle, and the new world you face feels like home.

Chapter 1: I had a way, then losing it all on my own

You never mention it around your friends, but you think there’s something very wrong about the way Tom acts. He’s too nice. He’s too much like the fans he cherishes. It’s deeply unsettling, especially when you remember he is an actor. Pretending to be someone he isn’t is what he does for a living. But you dismiss it as a strange paranoia until you find a picture in an old book during a sudden excursion to learn more about the original renditions of the Norse gods, as compared to the portrayals you’ve come to love.

In it, Loki does not have the dark hair and clean-shaven face you’ve grown accustomed to. His eyes are no longer green. They’re blue. His hair is red and curly and he has facial hair in a pattern that seems eerily familiar. You compare it mentally to Hiddleston as quickly as you can manage. It is then that panic grips your system.

His influence over the masses is small now, almost minuscule, but yours is negligible. Your frenzied speech to your friends the next day falls on deaf ears. They think you insane. Tom may be perfect, but he’s not actually Loki. They frighten you when they inform you that it would be too good to be true. You do more research. Loki supposedly frequented Midgard, enough for people to have seen him. Enough to have known exactly what he looked like. Now you’re even more frightened. You can’t tell anyone. No one will ever believe you. You are suddenly, terrifyingly, alone.

The shock doesn’t set in until you find yourself home alone, watching television. It’s early evening. You should make yourself something to eat. But you don’t. You stay on the sofa, numb and unable to move. The reporter says something you don’t care about. Slowly, you try to wind down. Then the topic shifts, and suddenly you realize they’re talking about him on the local news. Tom Hiddleston is missing. He told no one where he was going and has been gone for over a day.

First, panic shoots through your system. What if you’d been wrong all along, and he was only human? You had nothing to worry about, and now he’s missing. You’d been so stupid, there was no way he could…

You hear the deadbolt on your front door slide into place. There shouldn’t be anyone here. You had thought you were alone. Then another thought crosses your mind.

He’s been gone for a day. That’s how long you’ve been searching for answers.

What if he knew?

It is only moments before you feel a hand on your shoulder from behind you. You freeze, terror jolting through your system and setting all your hair on end. Something soft brushes the back of your head near your ear. You stare ahead, unable to move as your body locks up and you feel anxiety, dread, and panic welling up in the pit of your stomach, tears preparing to flow.

“I’ve finally found you,” a smooth voice remarks from behind you. You’d always liked it in the movies, in recordings; but in person it is so much sweeter and you aren’t sure why. The back of your scalp tingles pleasantly. You are simultaneously terrified and soothed. You aren’t exactly sure how this works, how he’s eased some of your fear simply by speaking because it doesn’t make any sense, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. The hand leaves your shoulder as the intruder walks around the couch to stand between you and the television, and your fears are finally confirmed.

He did know. Just as the television concludes its report on the missing actor, the flesh-and-blood counterpart of the image on the screen stands before you, dressed as dapper as ever and making your heartbeat race just by standing in front of you and smiling. “I knew you’d catch on eventually,” he says, grinning, “but I hadn’t expected it to be so quick. I’ve never quite been able to read you, but the disturbance I felt from the people I’m connected to around you definitely tipped me off.” He sits down next to you on the couch. “Next time, dear, don’t tell anyone. If there is a next time.”

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to react to Tom (Loki?) in your living room, especially with all you’ve theorized that is apparently true from the way he’s acting. Speaking of the way he’s acting, it makes him sound like he intends to silence you, permanently. You like him and appreciate him, but you’re not going to let him kill you without a fight.

His hand encloses around your fist before it’s even halfway to its intended target. He’s impossibly fast. “A feisty one,” he says, that stupid grin still plastered all over his face. “I have no intention of harming you. In fact, I need you.” You stare at him, your mouth slightly agape. Why on earth would the god of mischief need you? Couldn’t he just make duplicates of himself?

He laughs, as if he’s read your thoughts. “I’m not Loki,” he responds as he lowers his hand, pushing your fist back down into your lap. “Entertaining as that would be, I’m not the god of mischief. Well, at least, not in the sense you’re imagining.”

Your head is spinning. So not only is he inexplicably attractive, able to get into locked buildings without so much as making a sound, and faster than anyone you’ve ever met, but now he’s a telepath on top of that? You have to be hallucinating, or dreaming. All of this paranoia has gone to your head. He lifts his hand again and brings it to your cheek, his grin fading into a simpler smile. “You’re not crazy,” he says, “not yet.” He pats you a few times, then withdraws his touch. He pulls his legs up beside him and rests against the back of the couch. “I’m not Loki, but I’ve been around for a while. And I may have popped in on some of the old Norwegians while they were still a young, impressionable society. They needed a trickster.” His form flickers, then shifts to the one you’ve come to associate with Loki, the familiar leather armor and black hair, green eyes and a smirk. “I was all too happy to oblige when they asked if they could use my likeness.”

“You’re not Loki,” you whisper, staring at him as his appearance changes back. “Loki is you. He’s based off of you.”

He grins again. “Now you’re getting it.”

You are so, so going crazy. “So you’re either a time traveler or immortal. Either way I’m out of it.” You pause for a moment. “I swear, if you’re the Doctor and you want me to be your companion…”

Tom chuckles. “No. I don’t have a TARDIS, for starters. I’ve been around for a while. Gained a few abilities while I was at it.” He waves his hand vaguely. “It’s a complicated process.” He then holds it out toward you, as if in a gesture of good will. “Here. Come with me.”

“Why?” you ask, staring at him. You’ve only just met him. Besides, he’s told you nothing of what he wants to do, or why he’s even here. All you know is that you knew something was up, and he found out about it and decided to find you.

“Because if you do, I’ll explain everything. I just want to know that you’re on my side before I do.” He looks hopeful, but incredibly sad at the same time. There’s a certain detectable loneliness in his expression, and that makes your stomach feel strange and your heart hurt. You don’t know the circumstances, sure, but he looks like he needs you. Who knows why? You’re not going to question it at this point. Not that this day could get much weirder anyhow, you reason. You take his hand with a reassuring smile.  “Yes,” you respond.

Tom grins, as though he knew that was going to be your response all along.

  It is a significant amount of time later that you finally get to have even the faintest idea as to what is going on, and even then it is not because he tells you.

You’ve taken his hand and vanished, leaving your entire life behind without really intending to. Though, you suppose, living with Tom is better than what you were doing anyway. He’s suspiciously kind as always. He makes you tea and gives you a room to sleep in. It’s late one night, when you realize that you’re starving and had meant to go to bed hours ago, that you find him in the living room.

You had heard voices from down the hall, so you make very sure to remain quiet as you approach. It sounds like Tom is talking to someone. You can’t tell who it is, though, because they don’t seem to be speaking much. It just sounds like Tom is talking nonstop, almost like he’s responding to himself. As you peek around the corner, you realize that you were very close.

Tom sits in the large armchair. His positioning indicates that he’s unhappy or exhausted, slumping in his seat. He’s listening to the other speak at the moment, not focused on you. The other person in the room is significantly more startling. Black hair reaches his shoulders, and though you can only see the back of his head and a bit of his shoulders, you can make out armor, definitely of Aesir make, upon him. So the Marvel version of Loki is here. Your face screws up silently in a combination of confusion and disdain. This doesn’t make any sense, and you’re not sure you like this turn of events. Mostly because you don’t want the world to get taken over and all. You like it here, after all. Or, at least, you like it better than you would if Loki took it over.

“It’s inconsequential,” he murmurs, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch. “You shouldn’t let a pesky mortal get in the way of what you deserve. Did you intend for them to be the first to truly kneel for you? Or to stand beside you as your equal?” He sounds irritated, as though he has somewhere else to be that is far more important than the living room. Tom shakes his head. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know how attached I’m going to get.” Loki scoffs, his head turning slightly to look at Hiddleston directly. “Thomas, please be realistic. You’re going to get more attached than you should. You always do. It’s in your nature.”

Tom sighs. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you for your help, as always.” The god smirks at him and stands. “It’s no trouble for a friend. By the way, I thought you might find it interesting that your charge has caught the last bits of this conversation.” Your breath hitches. You thought you had been very quiet, but you suppose a god could have heard you anyway. It’s a little strange that Tom didn’t pick up on it, as he seems to be telepathic, but he could have been focusing on Loki too much to pay attention. With that, the trickster vanishes, and you slowly make your way around the corner.

“How long have you been there?” he asks softly, not even bothering to look up at you. A shiver runs through your body. “Not very long. Just long enough to catch Loki’s last bit about how I shouldn’t get in the way of what you deserve.” You’re not sure whether or not you were in fact the pesky mortal in question, but it couldn’t hurt to take a shot in the dark. After all, if you were wrong, he’d just correct you, wouldn’t he?

He sighs—not a good sign for Loki’s opinion of you. “It’s more complicated than that,” he responds, his gaze fixed on the floor as he sinks deeper into the chair. If he’s to fall any farther, you’re pretty sure he’s going to forget where he put his spine and melt into a puddle on the floor. “There’s so much to this situation I haven’t told you about, and I’m sorry. I would if I could. But at least for the time being, I can’t.”

“Can you at least tell me what he meant by ‘it’s no trouble for a friend?’ Does he actually exist? Did he play himself in the movie, or…” Tom shakes his head, frowning. “No. He’s a part of me, but with my abilities I can make him physically manifest outside of me so I can get my thoughts out into the open. It’s always more difficult when I can’t tell my thoughts from his.” He sighs, looking up at the empty space on the couch. “He helps sometimes, in spite of all the pretentiousness. He needs a lot of Prozac and a lot of therapy.” He smiles, knowing that you’ve heard the rest.

“‘But he is a friend of mine,’” you finish with a nod. “So because he’s useful, you let him out and ask him for advice.” He shrugs in sort of an affirmation. “I help him sometimes too. I don’t know where I’d be without him. Certainly not here.”

“Well, no. He’s become a part of you. All characters do,” you respond, knowing this from your writing and general knowledge of acting. He finally looks up at you, all of his usual cheer and high spirits gone from his gaze. “But where do you draw the line?” he asks, his voice quiet. “How do you know where the characters end and you begin, when you’ve spent your whole life pretending to be everyone but yourself?” 

You’re not sure whether he’s talking about conventional acting or not anymore. Certainly, actors may think about this once in a while; but he looks so hopeless, so consumed by the idea that he may have no identity to call his own that it’s eaten away at him for aeons. He is immortal, after all, and seems to be a shapechanger. That would certainly give him a crisis, given enough time. “I don’t know,” you confess. Tom’s eyes shift back to the floor when he seems to think of something, leaping up out of his seat. “What?” you ask, and he rushes over to you and takes your hand.

“You’re going to help me find myself,” he states. You still have so many questions—what did Loki mean by the first to truly kneel?—why are you here?—were you ever going to get the food you came here for?—but they all go unanswered as he pulls you along, ever-so-gently, out of the house and into the night.

[arkiewrites-blog]

The Fool (Chapter 1)

Now on the Tumbls! (AO3 Link)

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Arrowfrost (Clint Barton/Loki)

Rating: PG-13 (General College Shenanigans)

Notes: College AU. Lots of assholes. Tarot cards are a thing.

Summary: New beginnings and adventures, pleasure, passion. He rushes ahead, thoughtless and rash, doing before thinking, obeying instincts.

In which the gang goes to college, fights happen, new friends are made, some shenanigans ensue, and everything turns out alright for everyone in the end. For once.

Chapter 1: The Tower

“Are you alright?”

The voice was quiet, a godsend to Clint’s oversensitive ears. His eyes cracked open—the room was dark, yet another success for him. But he didn’t recognize it. It smelled like incense and books, and the couch he was lying on was certainly not his own. It was too comfortable for that. He sat up a little, leaning on the armrest of the sofa and blinked away the sleep. His head was pounding. He didn’t even remember coming here, but given that he felt like his insides had been through a blender he guessed that he had drank too much the night previous. Though why he’d come here he had no idea. He didn’t recognize the area at all. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse. “Could use a drink, though.” He pondered this for a moment, then spoke up. “Where am I?”

“Give me a moment to get something ready. I don’t have any alcohol and don’t intend to let you have any, besides. You’ll thank me for it later,” the other replied as he stepped into Clint’s range of visibility. He looked a little familiar from what he could tell in the low lighting, with long, dark hair reaching his shoulders and pale skin, but his brain couldn’t put the pieces together. “You’re in my room. You came stumbling in here a few hours ago, in the middle of the day on a Saturday, drunk as hell and asking me to protect you from evil spirits or something. You may want to watch that in the future. I’ve heard the penalties for being drunk in substance-free buildings are fairly hefty, and are probably worse if one is a freshman as we are.” The figure waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not planning on telling anyone, not when it was as amusing as it was. You can leave whenever you feel up to it.”

“Do you want me to?” Clint asked. The statement had seemed rather blunt, as if he’d wanted to be left to his own devices as quickly as possible. Despite what the other man said, he still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. He didn’t remember drinking at all this morning. Though with everything that had happened to him recently, it wasn’t entirely out of the question that he’d drunk himself into practically a stupor and then gone looking for help. The last week or so had been hard on him especially, with a lot of happenings that he simply couldn’t explain. “Not particularly,” he responded. “I just figured, since I’m sort of the freak around here, that you wouldn’t want to stay very long.” Clint winced and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I think you seem well-adjusted enough,” and this made the dark-haired one snicker and shake his head while hiding a grin, “and I don’t really care what the others on this floor think of me for hanging out with you.” He sucked in air through his teeth, sounding a little angry. “Not anymore.” 

“A falling out?” the other asked, pouring the contents of a tea kettle into two cups. Clint shook his head again. “No, I just stopped giving a shit. I have bigger things to worry about than floor politics. And… well, I guess a little of it is backlash from a falling out.” He shrugged. “Like I said. Bigger fish to fry. I can’t waste my time worrying about these dicks when I’ve got other things on my plate. Things that I hope you can help me with.”

“Your homework?” he asked sardonically. “I’m sure I can help you with that.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Clint said. “That’s my job. No, I need support. People that can help me. I’m going through a rough time. What’s your name again?”

“You don’t say.” The other man handed the blonde a cup of tea. “Laufeyson. Complementary hot drink for stopping by.”

“I meant your first name,” he said as he took the cup. The other man sighed. “Loki. Ridiculous name, I know. Happy now?”

“Satisfied, I s’pose.” Clint looked down at the cup, watching the steam curl. “I’m Clint.”

“Barton. I know. The archer from Iowa. Was this falling out you spoke of, perchance, with your brother? I’ve heard a lot about him. He doesn’t sound much like you.” Clint shook his head, jerking his head back from the drink he took of his tea. It was still far too hot. “He isn’t, and yeah. It’s been a long time coming, but all my friends were his friends, except for Tasha. She’s been with me since…” A shrug. “Middle school, probably. And we’re not doing so hot, either. Third breakup in as many months, but we’re pretty sure this one’s sticking because otherwise we’ll come out of it hating one another. Best friends who made the mistake of dating, and all that.” Loki nodded sympathetically. “My brother had a friend that I was somewhat close to. We dated for some time before we decided it wasn’t quite right for us. And Thor—my brother has been with his girlfriend for several years now.” He winced, as though it physically pained him to think of his brother. Clint blinked. “You alright there?” Loki took a drink of his tea. “As alright as I’ll ever be. My brother and I had a fight just before I went off to college, and I still feel bad about it. I’d… just found out I was adopted, and…” Loki sighed. “A story for another time. I’d rather not get into it.”

“You don’t get visitors often, do you?” Clint asked with a smile. He was pretty eccentric, and with all the assholes on this floor (who he had only a week ago called friends) he probably had a pretty hard time leaving his room without being teased, let alone having anyone over. “I get visitors never,” he responded. “Can you think of anyone that would want to come in here other than me?”

“I would.” Clint glanced around as he sipped his tea, noting the coffee table in front of him. “It’s kind of neat. Besides, this isn’t even the only floor in the building, let alone the only building on campus. Not everyone is like this.”

“Believe me, I know, but most say that my Halloween decorations were up three months too early.” He shrugged, running a finger around the rim of his own cup. “I suppose now they’re more thematically appropriate. I do have a few friends, though one of them is primarily a friend of my brother and stays around me to make sure I’m doing alright for him. Might I ask… do you remember why you specifically came to me?” He looked intrigued. “It strikes me as a little odd, is all.”

“I…” Clint sighed. “Guidance counselors haven’t been able to help me, and neither has the advice of close friends and relatives. So I figured I’d give some old-fashioned mystical shit a try and see how it goes. Worst case scenario, I only come out of this experience with a new acquaintance that I know I can talk to on my floor when times get low.” Loki smirked. “And best case scenario?” he asked, a curious lilt to his voice as if he were slightly invested in the response.. The archer shrugged. “An actual result, I guess. Could get better than that. Who knows, this is mystical shit we’re talking about here. Fate works in mysterious ways, or something.” Loki snickered again, shaking his head as he put the tea on his desk. “And what sort of brand of mystical shit would you like to try today?”

“Whatever you’ve got to offer. I’m not exactly well-versed in the different types. Do you have a preferred type of mystical future prediction that you’d like to share?” Loki smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. I bought some tarot cards before I got here and I’ve had some time to get attuned to the deck, so if you’d like to try your luck with that, I’d be happy to oblige.” The archer grinned, taking another drink of his tea. “Yeah, sure. Never seen one of these work before.” The dark-haired one laughed as he reached over onto the bookshelf, pulling out an engraved wooden box. When he undid the latch, Clint noticed that the inside looked to be some sort of green velvet, or some other type of cloth. He sat down on the other side of the table beside the couch and started shuffling the cards. “Now, you don’t need to tell me your exact question if you only have one, but if you’d like a spread I’ve got to have a bit of information so I can determine how many cards to draw.” Clint seemed to ponder this for a moment, then responded, “I’ve got a few things I want to know about the situation. For starters, I want to test them out and see if they can clarify how I’m feeling about the situation, since I’m not always sure. Second, I want them to clarify how it really stands, then one about the resolution, and finally one about how I’m going to get there.”

“Alright, so a four-card spread. Keep in mind that in certain circumstances, these cards could represent a person in the situation, or how it stands, or how you feel about it, or any multitude of things, really. It just promises that whatever is pictured has relevance to the problem at hand somehow. If you could cut the deck,” he said, holding it out, “that’ll make sure it’s more accurate.” Clint picked up roughly the top half of the deck and handed it to Loki, who put it back on the bottom and dealt out four cards in front of him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His hand hovered over the card closest to his right, the far left from the way Clint was facing. His gaze shifted between Loki and the card, then gave a curt nod. “Yeah. I want to be able to sort out my thoughts. And maybe draw a few conclusions if at all possible about what I need to do next.”

“Fair enough. This should be about how you see yourself.” His nimble fingers reached down and flipped over the card, revealing it to be an upside-down image of a pair of cups. “Ah,” he said quietly, then looked up at Clint, who was briefly transfixed by the beauty of the art depicted on its face. “Unstable and conflicted. You believe yourself to have made a premature commitment.” The blonde stared at him, his mouth ever-so-slightly agape. “How did you…” Loki shook his head. “Just reading what the cards are telling me.” The results were startling in their accuracy. They told Clint of his situation, one of grief and heartbreak, and how the resolution was to stand up for what he believed in and be reborn anew. It had been better for he and Natasha to break up permanently, he decided, and pursuing her would be foolish since what he needed was a new start. She was a good friend as well and he didn’t want to lose that, especially with the history they had with one another. There was another card, a fourth, but Loki had looked rather shocked at that one and had bitten his tongue on the meaning of it. Clint was disappointed, since this was the one that would point him to his resolution, but decided not to bring it up at the time. “Can I ask a question?” he said after Loki had shuffled the cards back into the deck. “For you and the cards.”

“Certainly. What might it be?” He looked down, tapping the deck into place and making sure they lined up. Clint swallowed his pride. “I want to know where you think I should go from here. Not with Natasha. With my life.”

“I think that with how conflicted you seem to be, you need to figure out what you want before you start worrying about what other people want. You should be who you want to be and do what you want to do as long as you don’t try to hurt anyone in the process. That’s what I’m trying to live by now, since I’ve had a dramatic shift in my way of living. I’ve found it to be effective, and you may as well.” Loki set the cards on the table again. “You can also cut the deck and take a card off the top, if you’d like. That should give you something, maybe a little more personal to you than my advice.” Clint shook his head. “Nah. Yours was good enough. What time is it?” he asked offhandedly, glancing around. Loki shrugged. ”Around four thirty. Would you like to go for a walk? I was planning on going anyway, but I’d prefer if you joined me.”

“Sure. Why not. Where are we going?” Clint grabbed his coat from the couch and shrugged it on. He must have brought it with him when he left his room, maybe thinking he’d have to stagger across campus or something. He really wasn’t sure why he’d brought his coat, now that he thought about it, but he was glad that he did. Loki picked up his keys and headed toward the door. ”A pond.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. ”Why?”

“I go there every day. It helps me think.” Loki shrugged, walking outside of the door and waiting for Clint, who followed and watched the dark-haired one lock the door. ”So you believe in magic, huh? That’s a little… strange, I guess,” he said as they left for the stairwell. Loki snorted. “Just because they put it in the fantasy section of a library does not make it so. You’ve seen its capabilities firsthand and remain a skeptic. I don’t fault you, it’s your nature as a person to be wary of such things. But it makes far more sense than most religions, or so I’ve found.” After descending the stairs, Clint pushed the door open and held it open for Loki, who smiled and gave him a nod of what appeared to be thanks. He hadn’t put on a jacket or coat, which the archer found to be a bit peculiar. It was a chilly day for late October, and Loki didn’t even look remotely bothered by it. “I haven’t seen its capabilities firsthand. I think you’re just good at reading people and you could tell from past experiences with me that—” Loki interrupted him with a short, almost pained yelp of a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barton, before tonight I hardly paid attention to you. I only knew of you through connection to your brother, whom has not been particularly kind to me. I was not sure what to expect from you.” 

After this statement, Loki was silent for a while, and the walk to the pond bordered on awkward. Clint stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and swore under his breath. “Forgot my keys,” he said, “and the door’s locked, probably, after all that’s gone down today.” Loki smirked. “I’m alright with you staying with me for as long as you need. Presumably until your roommate eventually has to leave the room.” Clint snickered. “Yeah, basically. You know, I think it’s pretty lucky that you got a single room. Usually that doesn’t happen to freshmen.” Loki shook his head. “My father paid for it. He did not want me to have to deal with others ridiculing me or asking me for money once they learned of my identity.”

“Wait, your brother is that Thor? Like, heir to the metaphorical throne of Asgard Corporation?” Clint only had a passing knowledge of the business, as the CEO was somewhat secretive about his public life and had managed to stay out of the way of the paparazzi for years. Still, the name of the next in line had inevitably leaked, and it wasn’t like there were an incredible amount of people who had anything close to a secret identity that were named Thor. Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes. Though I’d prefer that we kept that between us.” With a halfhearted snort and a shrug, Clint replied, “Fine by me. How about both of us just pretend we don’t have older brothers?” He paused for a moment, then added, “Or family. We can do that here, since we’re away from everyone.” They finally made their way to the pond, where Loki gestured for Clint to take a seat on the nearby chair-swing before sitting down himself. “Unfortunately, that would be difficult for me. I do have Steven, after all. Something of a Thor away from Thor, with how little he understands about popular culture, and his leaning toward athleticism. He is kind, though, and means well. Keeps me out of trouble.” He interlaced his fingers, looking down at his hands. “Perhaps you should accompany me when I attend the gaming club meeting later tonight. You might meet him that way, should he show up. He’s a bit like an older brother to my other friends as well. We may provide a suitable alternative to your former friends, I think.”

“Maybe.” Clint looked over at him. “Still think you’re full of shit with the cards thing. You seem like the kind of person that hangs out in the food court at the mall and just observes people, because people are funny.” Loki chuckled. “You are more perceptive than I. Though I do enjoy people watching, I am passable at best at reading humans. I am far better at reading cards.” He paused for a moment, glancing over at Clint, then continued. “Besides, had you not put your doubts aside temporarily, they would have been just that: cards. But you put faith in them, and they did not disappoint.”

“I didn’t put faith in your cards, Loki.” Clint looked out onto the water. “I put faith in you. It was you that didn’t disappoint.”

For a long time, Loki just stared out at the water, completely silent. After what could’ve been mere minutes or hours, Clint didn’t know, a small voice finally spoke up, and it took several seconds for him to realize that it was the boy sitting next to him.

“No one’s ever told me that before.”

Clint wasn’t really sure what to say to comfort him, or if he even wanted comfort. He wasn’t really very good at judging. So he gave Loki a halfhearted pat on the shoulder, then remembered something he’d thought to be important. “Remember the fourth card? The Fool, I think. Why were you so hasty about putting it back in the deck? That was my conclusion. I don’t know how it’s supposed to help if I don’t even know what it means.” Loki snorted, pressing a hand to his cheek as if to stop the inevitable tears. “It’s… it’s sort of my card. It’s a card that represents passion and chaos, following instincts and things like that. I’d always thought of it as sort of my card, since my namesake is the god of mischief and trickery. I’m not sure what the cards were trying to say there, so I decided to brush it off.” He shrugged, removing his hand and placing it on his lap. “Maybe they were talking to me, telling me to help you. I can certainly see why. You’re already far more supportive than almost anyone else has been.” Clint shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I like you, though, and I’d like to hang out with you more. If that’s alright with you.”

“That is fantastic,” Loki replied, half-grinning. “I look forward to it.”

And though he may have been named for the god of lies, Clint felt that right now, Loki couldn’t have been more genuine if he tried.

[arkiewrites-blog]

(( SERIOUSLY WHY DID I NOT KNOW THAT YOU HAD THIS ACCOUNT AHSDSAASHDASHDASH -STALKS ALL THE ACCOUNTS- >:l ))

Pffft because I always forget I have this account and just post stuff on my main 8D

[livefromarkham-blog]

If You'd Pardon The Pun

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe/Norse Mythos Pairing: Fel (Fandral/Hel) Rating: PG-13 (Post-Character Death) Notes: I am the goddamn captain of this ship. Summary: Hogun had always told him that courting death was a bad idea.

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[arkiewrites-blog]

Historically, Not Awesome (Avengers HSAU)

takes place after A Sense Of Belonging

750 words

so incredibly probably not canon

i'm tired ok

[I think about you every night.]

The text sends Loki’s phone into a spastic fit of vibration, one so strong it slips off the table. He scrambles to catch it, tapping it awkwardly before it finally lands stationary in his hands, still buzzing with a new message. He looks at what he’s received, and responds promptly as he always does.

[I'm sorry.] Then he goes back to reading his book, actually feeling bad about taking up Clint’s time in such a useless way. He wasn’t really worth the thought, was he?

When his phone starts buzzing again, he picks up quicker. [It’s not something you need to apologize for. It’s not your fault.]

Loki smirks as he responds.

[You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.]

“Maybe I do,” a voice says from over his shoulder, and Loki screams as he flails his arms backwards and ends up punching Clint in the forehead. “Why would you text me if you were standing behind me? When did you get here, the door didn’t open—”

“Loki.” Clint rubs his head and looks at his boyfriend. “Your window. Also, your room is huge, and I’m quiet when I need to be.”

“No one sneaks up on me,” Loki states. “Also, how did you even get up here?”

“Tree,” is all Clint finds necessary for a response.

That is a satisfactory response, so it takes him a moment to come up with a new question. “Why do you think about me every night?”

The blonde perches on the back of the couch. “Because it helps prevent further hospitalization?”

“I don’t see how,” Loki responds, but doesn’t really press the issue further. Instead, he takes the time to note that apparently Clint’s shirt hasn’t been buttoned since he came in. He takes in the view, then sprawls out on the couch.

“Bad day?” asks Clint.

“Understatement,” replies Loki.

“Talk to me,” his boyfriend requests, but the only response he gets is “Odin.”

It occurs to him, suddenly, that he’s never heard Loki refer to his adoptive father as “father,” or “dad,” or anything of the sort, unlike his brother. He has always been Odin to Loki. It’s unnerving, but it makes sense. The two have never gotten along. Odin had never really liked the dark-haired child, likely because of what he stood for in the old man’s life. But holding a grudge against a child simply because of his heritage? As Tony would have said: “Historically, not awesome.”

“What did he do?” Clint presses. Loki makes a noise like a dying whale and rolls over, pressing his face into the armrest.

“Do I need to go talk to Thor?”

“No!” Loki shouts, muffled by the fabric. “He and Odin will just get in a Norwegian shouting match. No one needs that.”

“They argue in Norwegian?”

“So that I won’t understand them and can’t get worried about them fighting over me, yes. But they only speak a different language when it’s about me, so I always know. It just makes me worry more.” He sighs. “Thor means well, he really does, but he doesn’t think things through much. You know that. And Odin just doesn’t care.”

“Is he home?” Clint frowns, starting to button his shirt as he steps down from the back of the couch.

“What? Why?”

Clint doesn’t answer, merely repeats his question.

“Yes, he’s home, probably sleeping as usual. But why is it important?”

“Because somebody needs to give that son of a bitch a lesson in manners. It might as well be me.”

Loki shrieks, holding his arm out as Barton walks toward the door. “Clint, he is very strong for a man his age. I would not advise getting into a fistfight with him, especially considering the effects it could have on you being allowed to come over!”

The archer shrugs. “You and I both know that if Thor wants me to be able to keep coming over, he’ll at the very least think about it. And if he does ban me from the house, he’ll have to lock all the windows and doors too, because I can find a way in. I’m Clint motherfucking Barton.”

And with that, he’s out the door, and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop him. He wraps himself in a cocoon of blankets on his bed, falls face-first into his pillow, and hopes to whatever gods that exist that his boyfriend is not banned from his home for assaulting Odin.

[arkiewrites-blog]

inspired by this post

350 words

“You have heart.”

The newcomer’s hand, the scepter, his bones; they were all colder than ice, and the light from the center of the scepter was a glowing blue, spreading from where it touched his chest.

It was honestly a very beautiful sort of blue. The other, the black haired one, seemed very invested in the progress it made, his gaze intense and his grip light on Clint’s wrist, keeping the gun out of the way.

There was ice in his veins, traveling up to his brain—

And then everything changed.

He froze, his eyes darkening. Something was being rewritten at his core, something deep inside him. His loyalties were shifting, something was being replaced in his mind, but he couldn’t tell what, he couldn’t pinpoint what was changing, only that it was something, something and he couldn’t stop it, could only ride it out.

Barton looked up, conflict vanishing as his eyes changed once more to a clear, bright blue and his gaze focused on the one in front of him.

He was a god among men, and his mere existence here demanded servitude. Clint was happy to oblige.

Loki’s stare was focused, as if he were waiting to see if it had worked. He was transfixed, every bit as interested as the archer was in him. He squinted, then smiled with understanding. He could see the submission, the breathlessness in his newest servant, and it pleased him.

That in itself made Clint happy, though he didn’t show it.

The god pulled his hand and scepter away, judging he was no longer a threat. He was less than a threat. He was willing to die for Loki. His heart thrummed with pleasure when the other looked at him, it sang when he smiled.

Clint put his gun away. He wasn’t going to need it, not now.

Loki shifted the scepter back into his right hand as he turned, keeping his gaze on Clint as long as possible.

The archer remained still, waiting for an order from his god, this wonderful being that had come from nowhere and changed everything.