Alright. So. I didnāt die. Or maybe I was reincarnated?Ā
Anyway. TL;DR version of my time away from the internet:Ā
I got overwhelmed with story ideas while at the same time losing two main ways to post or work on them.Ā Started a bunch and finally got my brain to settle on a few. (Space, 1950, Merman)Ā
Iām almost done with one so I just convinced myself not to post the story until then. The other two I may start releasing chapters for in the near future.Ā
Iām also (stupidly) working on something for NaNoWriMo so... that is going to slow me down some.Ā
OH OH OH OH OH!Ā
And most importantly... I have half of the next Terrible Tom story ready.Ā
Yesssss. He put his pants on for a few minutes and let me post this sneak peek of it.Ā
Alright. So, finally, the bad news. (for those who care):
Totally lost the chapter for Choose Your Deity Carefully on my laptop. Went to try and rewrite it and... canāt get back into the right mindset for it. That story is now on a temporary hold. Will resume when Loki deems it right.Ā
Thatās right. I havenāt forgotten about Terrible Tom and finally decided where I am going with the rest of the series.Ā
-sigh-
Donāt expect anything great though. Tom has been one hell of a muse to keep pinned down. (He has lots of plans and I can only type so fast).
Your new story begins in an office space somewhere in the overly cloudy city of London.
It had been two months since you quit working for Tom Hiddleston and almost a month since you had heard from anyone associated from the job. Luke had tried adamantly to get you to come back, even offering to continue paying you and letting you take 'vacation time', but when he called you up again you still gave him a resounding 'no'.
So, here you are. In an office, attempting to get your new story to start. Right after this PR company gives you your final paycheck.
"You can't withhold it from me."
"We're not. I told you it just has to be a paper check and you just have to sign this paper saying you received it. I've already got enough on my hands with Tom trying to high jack Girl Scout Cookie trucks, I don't need you publicly trying to sue the company."
A heavy, tired sigh is your only response to Luke's words. You'd followed the news about the recent developments with your former client. It was all written off as a publicity stunt for charity but you were positive that it had something to do with the gang he had joined.
How Luke still didn't know about it surprised you... but you had to remind yourself that it wasn't your business anymore.
This is definitely one that Iām going to wait until I have more chapters ready before I post. But hereās a little look at it.Ā
When Thomas had been younger he'd driven his parents crazy with all his talk of space. Not because it was impossible; by the time he was two they had sent batches of people from the Mars colony to further expand onto faraway planets, but because it was the career path everyone was choosing.Ā
"There's no money in it, Thomas," his mother had tried to persuade him after a trip to one of the spaceports.Ā
"You could choose a more influential or monetary career that could then lead to you being chosen for a future colony. That would be fine too, wouldn't it?" his father had added, his parents clearly already discussed their tag team routine.
Ā
"I don't want to just go to space," the younger boy shyly admitted, for the first time, even to his parents, "I want to work on the ships."
Again. Another little snippet of aĀ āTom as an engineer in coal countryā story that Iāve been working on. This one I may post chapter by chapter. Havenāt decided yet.Ā
Said British man, had refused to make any comment about his heritage and merely summed up his time in Kentucky as "enough experience to get the gist."
Thomas stayed tight-lipped and quietly thanked Bailey for the ride before also exiting and heading for the trunk of the car. Mr. Vinge dutifully told them, as he popped the trunk open, "Mr. Carpenter will be stopping in Monday to give you both a rundown of what the company is expecting. I suspect he'll go over any questions you all have then. Hopefully, he'll go over some of mine too," the trunk closed and the car rocked briefly, "Anyway, I'd try and get as settled in as possible before then. I imagine it's going to be a long year."
Mr. Wyatt laughed again, choked a little, then started dragging his suitcase towards the house. The older of the two was positive that Joseph had planned to say something but could no longer get enough breath to do it. So, Thomas again gave thanks and followed after him.
A little snippet of aĀ āTom Hiddleston as a Mermanā story Iām trying to wrap up before posting.Ā
Next, he brought up his hand and showed her the retrieved mask she'd thrown at him. The human gasped and muttered while tentatively reaching out towards him, "My goggles?"
He flicked his tongue against his lips before letting a grin spread out on his face. His arm straightened more to easily put the mask into her reach. Once her fingertips were touching them, he carefully tried to enunciate, "My goggles."
Of course, it sounded strange to even his ears, hearing his slithered accent trying to make separate blocky noises instead of his languages smooth almost singular cadence.
The human apparently also found it funny sounding, because she pulled the mask against her chest and chucklingly said, "No, they're just called goggles."
Omg!!!! I am absolutely in love with you this!!!! Absolutely!!!! Please add me to all your tag lists. Please!!! It was would have been a crime if I wouldāve been missed this!!! This is a MUST READ for writers and readers alike!!!
I have no idea why. I shouldnāt even have time for thisā¦ Probably because my mind automatically seeks refuge from stress by spending time with Tom & Charlie or Tom & Han. @tinchentitri
@largebeeffriedrice, now I canāt even remember where we even first saw the little doll beds???? But from now on, the ONLY thing my brain registers when I see beautiful little wooden beds - āOh look at the beautiful little beds. Theyāre just the perfect size for Tomās trophies. (and now the song is going through my head!!!) you must write more!!! Please!
Part 6 of Terrible Tom Imagines Series is "All Good Nuts Must come to an endā is what Iām referencing here. But I recommend starting at the beginning of the series.
Laughter and orgasms, best stress relievers there nature came up with - my 2 favorite things. So if youāre not in an appropriate space or place, for the latter, relieve some stress with the former. A good heart belly laugh. :-k
If y'all havenāt read the āTerrible Tom Imagines Seriesā that our brilliant @largebeeffriedrice wrote this past year, itās a must read. These are seriously the funniest fics Iāve read on tumblr yet. Youāll NEVER see Tom the same again. The series is all up on AO3 now, as well as the newest series in the pipeline, āCarefully Choose Your Deity.ā Iām chomping at the bit for Chapter 4 to come out!!! (no pressure, just eager support! I promise.)
I would have to go digging a little but it was a post about Tom holding his trophy like it was the most precious thing ever. I think.
Also, Iām legit blushing and maybe a little teary eyed because you always say such nice and wonderful things about the Terrible Tom series!
If it would please you then Iāll happily spoil that I am half way through another TT story. But... Tom wonāt keep his pants on long enough for me to get the story done. (Me and him will have a long talk tonight.)
Iāve also almost got Chapter 4 done for āChoose Your Deity Carefullyā. That one I blame on myself and myself alone. If my brain would stop trying to start four other stories...
Ladies, I am holding out my hand. Do you trust me?
I need you to open Google Maps. Locate your nearest mall. Get in your car. Drive to Yankee Candle.
Past the seasonal pumpkin display, near the back of the store, you will find a trash pile Man Candle section. You will see candles called MMM, Bacon!. Riding Mower. Man Town. (Iām not kidding. Man Town.) Stay strong. Not in this section, but likely very near this section, you will find a candle called Mountain Lodge.
Hold this jar in your hands like a talisman. Close your eyes and picture a man.
I want to be clear: Iām not talking about a Hugh Dancy. Or an Andrew Garfield, a Ben Whishaw, even a Tom Hiddleston. This exercise requires someone in the Chris Evans weight class. The Richard Armitage department. Someone with smile lines around his eyes who could chop the cedar for your bower with his own hands, strangle an alpha wolf, carry you home when you sprain your ankle in the woods, bench press your entire body. Picture this man in your mountain home with a full beard, a slightly grimy white henley, a fond half smile he reserves only for you. Now open the lid and smell Mountain Lodge.
Steady yourself on the man candle display. Give yourself a second. No, youāre not wrong. Yes, the Yankee Candle Company has just eliminated the need for men. This medium tumbler Mountain Lodge candle jar is now your boyfriend. The Yankee Candle Company has effectively replaced the need for contact with the male half of our species with a compact and clean-burning candle in a jar.
āDo you like this one?ā the cashier asked, ringing me up. āEvery man should be required by law to smell like what this candle smells like,ā I replied intensely. āThatāll be $12.01,ā she said.
it literally smells like waking up on a cold night to find a bearded richard armitage adding another quilt to the bed before he gets back in and pulls you snugly against his chest
Iām not fucking around I feel like I should be watching chris hemsworth in flannel and suspenders whittling a delicate masterpiece in front of a fireplace rn
All right, Tumblr, I saw this post a few months ago and immediately realized IĀ hadĀ to smell this candle. Ā I have never in my life experienced such a burning need (pun intended) to smell what the Yankee Candle website described as a warm aroma of cedarwood and sage, but what Tumblr described as my new boyfriend.
The trouble is that nearest Yankee Candle Company store was a bit of a trek, and my schedule tended to prohibit this olfactory adventure.
So for the last few weeks, as Iād scroll my Tumblr dash and look at images of attractive manly men, Iād sigh and wistfully think, if only I could engage another sense with this image. If only I couldĀ I could truly fathom the ideal fragrance of this man.
And then this happened.
And I knew.
I knew whatever was happening, IĀ neededĀ to get to a Yankee Candle Company. The scent of Mountain Lodge would transport me instantly to this scene. The aroma of this infamous candle could make me live out a self-insertion Avengers fanfic.
So I got in my car, made the drive, and located the Yankee Candle Company. Ā The store was crowded with holiday shoppers. My nose was immediately assaulted by hundreds of warring scents. Ā
I battled through the sea of humanity and the Angel Wings-Merry Marshmallow-Magical Frosted Forest assault, buoyed on by my need to understand what Steve Rogers ripping a log in half with his bare hands smelled like.
I waded toward the back of the store, only to discover the man candle section seems to have been discontinued. What was I going to steady myself on, once I found my scented gateway to hanging out with the Avengers on Hawkeyeās farm? I felt lost, adrift, unable to find my bearings amid Soft Blanket-Fluffy Towels-Home Sweet Home.
And thenā¦ rising from the āFreshā display, there it was.
Mountain Lodge.
It was the moment of truth. What would it be like to smell this infamous candle?
I opened the lid. I took a deep breath.
And I giggled.
Ah yes. Ā This was it. Ā This gentle, pleasantly masculine fragrance, in fact, reduced me to what Iād probably do in the actual presence of Chris Evans:Ā giggle like an idiot.
The smell makes me smile, makes me laugh, makes me gently swoon: all reactions that, indeed, can be elicited by an ideal man.Ā I can barely handle the true power of Mountain Lodge.
Several months have passed since this discovery. I have regaled friends with the saga, and after hearing of it, they, too, felt the burning need to smell the candle. Ā One by one, we have all become Mountain Lodge converts. In times of need, this candle is our refuge. Our group has developed escapist superpowers, infused by the Yankee Candle Company.Ā
we love everything about all of this. We will always be there for you, just light your Mountain Lodge candle and know that our love burns bright for you.
The official Yankee Candleā¢ tumblr account has recognized the Mountain Lodge mythos. My work on the material plane is finally complete. A being of pure light, I slowly ascend to the aether.
Whether your weather agrees or argues, whichever hemisphere you reside in, September 21st is around the corner. Ā Season change! Up here in northern hemisphere, Autumn will come, with chillier weather for many, especially if youāre at a higher elevation, ā¦. Say like at a mountain lodge?
And our dear Tom has gotten a lot beefier in the last few years, with Coriolanus and Kong. My gritty beefy sweaty dirty Tom could definitely pull off my Mountain Lodge Man needs - with or without the beard.
Yep, reblogging this becauseā¦.. oh, maybe I need to plan a getaway up into the mountains soon? Or at least I can daydream about it.
@storiesitellmyself you have made me so happy this afternoon. Best way to liven up sitting in a waiting room. :-)
@hallotom
@nuggsmum I canāt tag our glorious story teller who talks to them self. *sigh* if you see them around, let'em theyāve got big brownie points floating around out here that could pay back big. ;-)
It was roughly another week before the Primadonna of Lies tried to contact me again.
I had pretty much started giving up hope that anything that had happened was real. I would have thrown the stupid scrolls out if it wasn't for the mostly healed burn on the inside of my left wrist.
His corresponding rune. It did nothing as far as I could tell. I'd tried rubbing it, talking to it, and smearing unspeakable substances (don't judge me) in an attempt to see if that was how I was supposed to summon him.
But nothing ever happened.
So, my first lunch with Trisha, the amazing IT lady, I had asked for her advice. Of course, she thought I was joking and also thought my tattoo was 'simplistic' and 'hipster'. But finally, after convincing her to play along, she had given me the ideas for what all to try and do to the tattoo to possibly open up a communication channel with Loki.
As I've said... none of it worked.
Luckily, my new friend agreed to eat lunch with me again and this time I tried to press her for different information.
"Wow, you're really taking this 'helping Loki with new followers' joke as far as possible, aren't you?" I could tell by her tone that she thought it was both ludicrous but also entertaining.
"It's for a story I want to maybe write," the lie had left my lips before I could even think about it. Maybe the deception had come so easily because part of me had always wanted to take up writing, but then again it could have been contributed to my newly anointed deity.
"Well, why don't you start a blog then? I'm sure you could get followers that way and also write some?" her questioning was followed by a pitying expression as she slid the last of her chips my way. It was then that I realized that I'd been hungrily eyeballing her food. Again.
Sweet, innocent, pure Megan still had not fixed the payroll issue that had left me high and dry of money for more than four weeks now. The first time I'd failed to receive a paycheck, I had swiftly depleted my savings to pay up on two months of rent and utilities. The urge had just come over me and when the second weekly check had failed to deposit into my account, I had known that I had made the right decision.
Until this moment, when I wished I'd saved just a little bit more so that I could actually afford to eat more than one meal a day. Which I normally saved for breakfast. It was no longer lasting me through most of the day.
Through a mouthful of chips, I mumbled, "A blog? You really think that could work?"
"Yeah. You can keep track of how many people are 'following' and also maybe convince them to do silly stuff. Or whatever it is you need for this story."
I continued chewing while tapping my fingers against the table. My mind was buzzing with all the possibilities. It couldn't hurt to try. Especially if it worked.
~~~
The next day, I sat miserably at my computer. My fingers mindlessly typing the words playing in my ears even though not a lick of it stuck to my brain.
The night before I had stayed up way too late researching everything I could about blogging and current day Loki events. Which meant I'd unfortunately seen a lot of stuff involving New York and the Avengers.
I hadn't viewed anything too graphic, but by the time I'd finished setting up the blog and gone to bed... my mind had continued running with endless speculations about what the hell was I thinking to accept this gig.
But mostly querying why the hell Loki so desperately wanted human worshippers.
After a few moments, I had realized that the audio had stopped playing in my ears. I closed out the file and went back into the client's email to download the second soundbite.
On par with my bad luck streak, the browser's loading icon slowly spread across the top bar before the whole screen went white and the 'no internet connection' page appeared.
With an exasperated groan, I banged my head against the desk. Seriously? Today? Right now?
I went through the normal motions of trying to get the internet to reconnect before finally putting in a call to Trisha. Who legitimately laughed at me and then giggled while stating, "I'll be there right after I finish up this other work order, sweetie."
My plan had been to just sit there and wait for her to arrive. But the browser page suddenly blinked and was replaced by the new 'unable to load' screen that featured the dinosaur jumping game: T-Rex Runner.
With a relieved sigh, I perked up a little and started rapping away at the up arrow key. It was honestly shocking that the company hadn't found a way to ban this game.
The little dinosaur ran. And ran. And jumped over cacti and birds while increasingly starting to run faster. Once or twice I would goof and have to start over, but about the third time, I found my little T-Rex icon starting to do random things.
His mouth would abruptly open and snap at birds before I could jump over them and infrequently he would do a full spin while midair.
At first, I thought this was something new added to the game as a means of distracting the player. It worked another two rounds but I finally found myself getting used to it enough to keep playing.
It was on the seventh playthrough that the pixelated T-Rex completely vanished from the screen and reappeared as a two-bit man.
Judging by the little green eye on the side of him I was willing to bet it wasn't just any man.
"Mortal," the synthetic voice hummed through my headset, causing me to leap back and snatch my hands away from the keyboard.
The new jumper continued on in the game without my help. Easily running and hopping over any obstacles; including the ones that weren't originally in the game.
"You haven't committed any acts for me yet."
Furiously, I jabbed a finger at the screen and accusingly whispered to him, "You didn't actually tell me how to do that and also I don't have any money for whatever hairball scheme you wanted."
"Wait a minute," his digital-self huffed before stomping his little feet into the ground and forcing the game to stop moving around him. A bird hovered awkwardly a few inches away from his head as he resumed, "Much better. Anyway, so Megan hasn't fixed her simpleton mistake yet? Well, that can be your first favor. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
It took everything in me not to lose my cool and scream with a room full of people to witness my breakdown, "You didn't tell me how to get a hold of you!" My reply was just boisterous enough to temporarily catch the attention of the desk closest to me and the guy gave me a puzzled glare before going back to his audio.
"Oh dear. Are you saying that the paper was blank?" his words were very clearly followed by a snicker. I so dearly wished I would punch the tiny digital Loki.
I took a deep breath and just stared hard at his little green eye. I wasn't going to get in trouble at work because he was an omnipotent asshole.
"You must not be believing in me hard enough," my eyes widen in anger and he truly laughed before following up with, "I'm just joking, Midgardian. Check it again when you get home. It should tell you my price for your favor."
My lips opened to ask him another question, but I was cut off by a finger tapping rapidly at my shoulder. I immediately whipped my head around and looked up to meet Trisha's excited face.
"Hey, you really started that blog, didn't you? I had to fix the internet on the sixth floor and I Googled some random words to test it and the first thing that popped up was a blog that was worded exactly like your story!"
Quickly, I let my eyes flick back to the monitor and saw that the T-Rex was back and dismally being stabbed by the bird. 'Game Over' prominently stamped next to his head.
I glanced back at Trisha and wearily mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I decided to actually do it."
"Well, I went ahead and started following it," as she chatted she gently pulled my headset off and motioned for me to get out of her way, "I'm curious to see what you manage to come up with."
Once I was out of her way, and she was decidedly emerged into fixing my computer, I gave myself a moment to close my eyes and take a good, long peaceful breath.
I was mentally telling myself that I was not only going to make the blog work but I was going to get my promised favors one way or another. No Norse God would be playing me for a fool.
~~~
That evening I had all but rushed back to my apartment. Shoes were kicked off my feet and sent flying into the bedroom, jacket haphazardly tossed on the back of the sofa, and my hair managed to escape the hair tie just enough to make me look a mad woman.
A mad woman on a mission.
I had sunk to my knees next to the altar and fumblingly knocked over a candle and rattled the potted fake plant while trying to get my hands on the scrolls.
I couldn't remember which was which, so I opened the first one and lazily dumped the contract back onto the shrine. My fingers shakingly unwound the second one and I sucked in a harsh gasp at the sight of a single sentence on the once blank parchment.
"I will require an act of mischief that will leave Megan fully humiliated."
My hands and the paper curled up into my lap as I tilted my head up and gaped at the ceiling.
How the hell was I suppose to do that?
~~~
Meanwhile...
~~~
"Sire?"
Silence.
"Sire?"
"Why do you call him that? He's nothing but a monster and prisoner now."
The first guard seemed hesitant to say anything but finally did while fidgeting his fingers against his spear, "He wasn't stripped of his title. Loki is still a Prince of Asgard, nay?"
His companion glanced away, towards the glowing light of the cell, before returning the guard's inquisitive stare with his own harden glare.
"He might as well have been. For what he did to Jotunheim and Midgard," and with that, the second guard angrily turned back towards the main staircase and started marching back to his post.
The first guard remained a touch longer than necessary before he also left and marched back. His mind carefully reciting the information he was supposed to tell the Prince, over and over, so that he may not forget it. Next time he would let Loki know the exact words the Queen wanted to send to him.
However, said God of Mischief, was surprisingly ignorant of the events that had happened right outside his cell.
The royal guards had found him sitting in the far corner of his cell.
Back propped up against the white wall and his legs spread languidly out in front of him. His hands were just barely moving; fingers drawing invisible symbols against the floor next to each hip. His eyes were painfully shut tight and his lips fluttered as incoherent words tumbled from them.
Loki had one task he needed to accomplish.
Preferably, before the All-Father figured out about it.
In case you are new here and want to read about our Terrible Tom friend in chronological order. (Or for any other story Iāve randomly posted)
The following posts are influenced/inspired by @terribletomimagines !
Part 1-Ā Is It Worth It?
Part 2-Ā Double First
Part 3-Ā The Healing Power of Hollywood
Part 4-Ā Nut Farmers Insurance Company: Youāre in good hands?Ā
Part 5 - Blame Michael Crichton Part 1 & Part 2
Part 6 - All Good Nuts Must Come to An End Part 1 & Part 2
Every other story below.
Choose Your Deity Carefully: (Loki/OC)
Chapter 1: Bad Luck PersonifiedĀ
Chapter 2: Terms and ConditionsĀ
There's a 90's country song that goes something like, '...before I know it Saturdays gone, but it's Sunday now and you can bet that I'm alright.'
Indeed, the Sunday following my run in with Loki was quite uneventful. Which was marvelous for me.
I'd stayed in my apartment and nothing bad happened to me. My cable didn't cut out, all the neighbors were surprisingly quiet, and someone even ordered a pizza that I got because somehow the driver had the wrong address but also somehow had an extra pizza.
That last one I was very suspicious about and wondered if my potential new deity had anything to do with it. If he had then I was pretty prepared to accept becoming a worshipper. My only problem was that I was still a skeptic and wanted proof that this act was tied to him.
Especially since he didn't seem like the type to do good will favors or at least not without some fanfare. Even if it was just to convince me to convert.
But by Monday, I was back to dragging my feet and attempting to not cry at every misfortune that befell me.
The bakery I went to every Monday was closed due to a handful of health code violations, my bus drove right by my stop, and the sole to one of my flats suddenly started tearing away. Forcing me to walk to work with my stomach growling and my foot aching from the continuous slap of my sole smacking into my heel with every step.
I tried to reason that this is just stuff that happens to people.
Especially stuff that happens to me. But it was just getting more and more unusual how much happened in one day. Even one week. Hell, I'd go so far as to even say a month!
But I'd be damned if it didn't make me more tempted to take up Loki's offer.
The temptation rose when Megan from accounting visited me on the third floor to ask me again how to spell my name and, "Oh, weird. I'm not even showing you on the payroll now."
It reached its climax when I went to go take my lunch and found that someone had eaten all of my food before putting my empty lunch sack back into the fridge with a note that said, 'Should have put your name on it.'
My full name was still visible on the wrinkled up bag.
After lunch, I had returned to my desk and started researching what I could about Loki and then, once I'd learned some mythology, started looking up what kind of offerings Norse Gods accepted.
I'd opened a couple different tabs from some sketchy looking websites but had to admit they seemed pretty detailed. Though some of the stuff went over my head--- was I supposed to actually find real dragon blood or just the incense?--- I felt confident that it would be easy to keep the trickster pleased with small tokens of worship. Who doesn't like alcohol and burying coins in exchange for good luck?
I was about to Google and see if there were particular prayers or something required of me when my computer screen suddenly went black.
I tapped, banged, and pleaded with the screen to come back on. I even unplugged and replugged in the tower to try and get the piece of shit working. But, inevitably, I had to accept defeat and call someone from IT to come look at it.
It was while I was waiting that everything fully cemented into my mind. Full acceptance of Loki's deal washed over me, as I realized that I was going to have to explain to some tech guy why I was looking up Norse mythology when I was supposed to actually be working.
~~
Later that night, I set to work making a sort of altar spot for him in my living room. All of the blogs I'd seen had dedicated the color green to him so I went with it. I'd bought green candles, incenses, a tiny planting pot for whatever coins I found around the apartment, and a pretty fake plant.
The plant was really more for me but it seemed to fit on the crate I bought for all my worshipping needs so I left it there.
The faint aroma of burning meat started flooding my apartment as I lit the candle and incenses and carefully placed them away from the plastic leaves of my plastic hydrangea.
That was another thing I had ended up learning. Not from my computer but from the IT person sent to fix the damn thing. After she had tried to explain to me what was wrong with the computer, thankfully not a virus, she had then chatted me up on the content still sitting guiltily in my browser.
Apparently, she was a major history buff and had been more than pleased to tell me about how people would go so far as to burn meat as a form of sacrifice to the old gods. Something about how it symbolized their level of devotion since they were willing to give up valuable food to keep the deities happy.
It made sense after she explained it and I even agreed to talk to her more about it over lunch one day; partially because I wanted to know more and partially as a way to thank her for her willingness not to tell anyone that I hadn't been working.
Of course, I didn't really have money to go out and buy meat specifically for this so I had to accept the burning crisp death of a roast I'd planned to make for dinner that night. Maybe I'd ask for a favor that involved Megan from accounting since I felt like this was somewhat her fault.
But as the meat burned, the candles flickered, and the incense tickled my nose, I realized nothing was happening. I'd completely forgot to finish looking up what else I was supposed to do to actually summon Loki back to me. I should have asked the IT woman.
So, I did the only thing I had some knowledge of and kneeled beside the homemade shrine and bowed my head to pray.
"Loki. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say in a prayer. But I'd like to discuss the deal you offered me. Umm. Very interested. Thank you."
That was good. Right?
Still, nothing happened.
I stayed kneeling next to the altar for a few more moments before finally deciding to go check on the meat. The way my luck had been running I was risking sending my apartment up in a fiery blaze from my antics.
I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight. My prayer had been answered.
Loki sat crossed legged on the island, staring worriedly at my oven, and mindlessly rubbing at his chin.
It is still not clear if he just happened to notice me standing there or if I had maybe made a gaspy noise, but his eyes suddenly flicked my way and he finally said, "Mortal, you know that you have a perfectly ruined piece of roast in here, right?"
'Yeah, it's a sacrifice or something for you."
The arched eyebrow look again, "How mundane and wasteful. We could have had that for dinner."
The annoyance that surged through my body helped me move into action and I stomped further into my kitchen to turn the oven off and 'save' the roast from it's burning coffin.
"Well, it's not like you told me how I was supposed to call upon you or anything."
He didn't respond as he continued eyeing the roast. Even as it sat burnt and black on the stovetop. I'd never been great at reading people but it almost seemed like he had a hungry gleam in his eyes.
It was enough of a glint that I decided to risk it and ask, "I can fix something to eat if that's really what you want?"
He licked his lips, slowly, before answering, "No. I don't have time for that now. We need to talk about you doing a better job as my acolyte."
How long had he been in here staring at the charred hunk of meat? I tried to think about how long I had been in the living room preparing but honestly couldn't remember.
"I haven't actually agreed to it yet."
"But you want to. I already know," his hands rolled around one another, causing a flash of green light to abrupt in the empty space between them. The light blindly filled the whole kitchen and then quickly faded to reveal a rolled up scroll.
As his right hand grabbed at the floating parchment paper, his shockingly green eyes finally looked away from the roast and pinned me with a fiendish smile.
Loki held the paper out to me and softly spoke, "This is the terms and conditions."
Hesitantly, I reached out and gingerly took the scroll from him. A thought flitted through my mind and briefly, I paused and wondered if I was technically accepting the offer just by taking the paper.
But curiosity was my worst enemy and I clutched the paper a little tighter and fully pulled it from his hand.
His mirthful expression only grew as he watched me unravel the scroll and scrupulously read over it.
"Wait. I thought I was the one asking you for favors?"
"I said that there would be times I would require acts from you. Those are just the ones that I know about ahead of time."
"You want me to help you gain how many new followers?! You are the same guy who attacked New York aren't you?"
This only earned me a quick scowl before the God of Mischief recovered and replied, "Yes, but look at the benefits."
"Literally the benefits of me helping you get that many worshippers are that you don't kill me. I could always refuse to not accept this deal and not die. Right?" I didn't wait for him to answer as something popped into my brain, "Why do you even need this?
What are you really getting out of 'helping' me?"
Loki tsked me and shook his head disdainfully as if I was stepping out of line by asking such a question. I gave him another second or two before it became obvious that he had no intention of clarifying anything.
I wish this had rattled me more than it did at that moment. But sadly I just accepted his silence and had gone back to reading over the terms and conditions. Letting myself get swept up into the whirlwind chaos of the God of Mischief.
"So, you don't have an actual church?"
"Ew, no."
"Where are people supposed to go to pray to you then?"
He childishly turned up his nose and crossed his arms, "Praying is terrible and I want no part of it. It's dull, unimaginative, and normal."
"How am I suppose to truly worship you then? How am I supposed to communicate with you when I can't find you?"
These were the right questions and his jade eyes fixed on me with a flare of excitement.
With a quick and loud snap of his fingers, a second scroll appeared in his left hand. He pointed at me with the rolled up paper and hissed, "Once you sign and agree to that paper, I will gladly hand over this list of everything you'll need to know for proper
offerings and all the works. Plus, I'll go over how to send word to me."
My eyes narrowed and kept glancing back and forth between Loki's smug, long face and the scroll resting loosely in his hand.
Again, past me should have followed her gut on how shaken she'd felt at having heard that the actual required acts were being kept on a different paper for AFTER she sold her soul.
But whatever. I'm still here. For now.
"Are you actually going to kill me if I don't succeed with your side mission?"
'No. Too messy. I'm already in enough trouble. But I can make your life very miserable."
That obviously didn't sound promising but the allure of having a year of better luck somehow won out in my mind. If my death was messy then no way he would actually really commit to tormenting me forever. Right?
"Also, I don't have to have sex with you, right? If that's on that paper in your hands then I refuse."
An exasperated huff, "No. That's not on the paper."
"Okay then, God of Mischief and Chaos," I paused when he held a finger up as if to correct me, but he scrunched his nose up instead and motioned for me to continue, "Get me a pen and I'll agree to a year of being your lackey."
"Wonderful," another snap of his fingers and a pen apparated into my right hand, "this is going to be so much fun."
As I signed the document in my hand I noticed that a symbol had appeared in the section marked off for Loki to sign. It didn't surprise me that he'd use magic instead of his own hand but I couldn't make out what it was supposed to be.
"What is that symbol for?"
"It's my corresponding rune."
"Oh."
And just like that the ink of the paper glimmer and glowed in a golden aura before I had to slightly shake my head and blink rapidly. It looked as if there were double words on the paper and I couldn't figure out why my brain was hallucinating that.
Except my mind wasn't.
The doubled ink suddenly pulled itself together at the bottom of the paper and then slowly bled and trickled its way towards my left hand. I gasped and roughly started shaking my hand, trying to get it to let go of the scroll.
But my fingers held tight against my will and the wild shaking did nothing to deter the ink from continuing its path now towards the inside of my wrist. Once it had all gathered there the ink started to sizzle against my flesh and then evaporated completely
by the time I could even release a pained howl.
Where the ink had just been there was now a seared version of "Loki's rune" resting on my pink and inflamed skin.
"What the hell!? I didn't agree to be branded!"
The God of Mischief laughed hardily at my indignation and even slapped his hand on his knee a few times.
The merriment ended just as suddenly as it had begun and in its place, an exhausted expression took over Loki's face. It was as if he'd aged a couple sleepless years in an instant. Dark circles rested below his eyes and some frown lines were a little more
visible next to his mouth.
With a tired sigh, he held out the other scroll and murmured, "Hold on to both of those papers. They are going to be your best tools for the next year."
I'm not even sure what had happened to the pen--- and I never gave it any thought until just now--- but I reached out my right hand and tugged the paper quickly from him. Not wanting anymore more trickery tonight.
He simply arched another brow in amusement and then blinked out of existence.
Leaving me standing alone in my kitchen with a burnt roast and two old ass looking scrolls.
"Okay. So. That all happened," I muttered while making my way back towards the shrine in the living room, "Though I don't know what I'm going to do about work since I'm not allowed to have a tattoo."
With my own weary sigh, I blew out all the still burning candles and snuffed out what was left of the incense. Then I rolled the contract up and placed it neatly next to my new fake plant.
I'd intended to just leave the new scroll rolled up with the contract, and look at it tomorrow, but something tickled at that back of my head and wouldn't let up until I started to unfurl the parchment.
Sure enough, my hands began shaking and one of my eyes started to twitch rapidly.
"THIS PAPER IS BLANK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
I had failed to consider that Loki was not just the God of Mischief. Not just the God of Chaos.
Okay, so some of you have messaged and tagged me with your thoughts on the seriesā¦ Once again: THANK YOU! Cause holy shit you all are awesome!
So, the silly Tom stories are not over, per se. Iām unsure if Iām going to basically do an Act Two with the current series or start over and introduce new characters and settings. (Some of the Terrible Tom imagines are absolutely great but my slow brain couldnāt figure out how to use them with the āassistantā angle.)
In the meantimeā¦ Iāve found myself writing a little Loki story that I hope to roll out. Iām definitely going to post it onto AO3 but Iām unsure if you all would be interested in it on here. -shrug-
Donāt stop! Donāt stop!!!! Whatever/whichever way you angle it, please donāt stop!!
Oh shit! I LITERALLY was emphatically meaning that about your Tom stories. But the moment it typed āpleaseāā¦. Lol blushed like a school girl. See what this place has done to me??? Well, if being honest, this is THE place where I may blush like a school girl, only to have all y'all laugh until your sides hurts from the pure irony of such a reaction in me. But I truly wonāt be able to tell anyone ādonāt stopā ever again now, without bursting into laughter. I regret nothing and refuse to retract.
Soā¦. As I was trying to say, Please please continue your Tom stories! I do desperately beg you. Continue in some form or other. :-)
As for your Loki story, my recommendation is to post both here and AO3. There are many people who are only on one or the other. Plus, although AO3 is so much more neat and tidy, stumbling upon the treasures you seek is either through pure luck, or very diligent digging. Also, with no private messaging you canāt really alert people that youāve posted, unless theyāve already subscribed to you. Then I guess they would get an alert? (I havenāt actually checked that linked email in 9 yrs, so who knows what Iām getting.)
With Tumblr, we can spread the news word of mouth with ease. Tumblr may be messy and filled with so many rabbit holes to fall down into, that itās shocking any of us ever see the light of day. But without it, my world most certainly, would not be as rich and rewarding as it is now. Without tumblr, I never would have stumbled upon and fallen down the Terrible Tom rabbit hole with you @largebeeffriedrice. Xoxo.
I chuckled and furiously blushed at reading that I shouldnāt stop regardless of the angle. Definitely got me there!
I do believe the Tom stories will have to continue. I may have been looking at some old notes and found a rather entertaining idea to work with. Might take some time for me to suss it all out though.
I followed your advice (it was very sound and Iām a sucker for going with wise choices) and have posted the Loki story to both platforms.
In the meantime...
#10 Combo @largebeeffriedrice - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
