Long Shadows | jaxington | 2 Works - 391k | Sep ‘13 - Aug ‘15
In which the God of Mischief meets his match, receives a taste of his own medicine, stops believing in coincidence, and finds something vaguely resembling peace in the form of a small woman with a big voice...
Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) More than a few works around the fandom have begun on the premise of watching Loki's off-screen movements on Midgard before Things Kick Off; on AO3 at least, few have utilised the idea to such an extent jaxington is able to with Long Shadows. Nearly 400k words sees us through Avengers and The Dark World, with a few Guardians guest-starring further on. Characters develop against a spectrum of events, relationships form and re-form, trauma is faced and processed. And throughout everything, happiness is found in the smallest things.
- Author's Tumblr | @jaxington - - Series on AO3 | Author's Page on FF.net -
"We're going for full disclosure here, Miss Tate." Nick Fury, with every last ounce of his limited patience, glowers across the stainless steel table at a small woman absently braiding her wild blond hair. "Do you understand what we need from you? Time is a pretty big factor and we're running out of it."
The woman sighs heavily and gives one nod as she continues to braid. It's a nervous habit, one she thought to have conquered as a teenager but given all she's been through in the last few weeks its reemergence was inevitable.
Or maybe it's been the last few months. She can't even be sure.
She glances up briefly, gaze flickering from world's first superhero to god to billionaire playboy philanthropist before she goes back to staring at the tabletop.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "I'm not really one for words."
And it's the truth. Eleanor Tate spent half her senior year of high school in total silence. Although she moved on from this childish coping mechanism, boisterousness never quite returned.
She is just full of nervous habits at the moment. The intimidating people scrutinizing her do nothing to help her already frayed nerves.
Her penchant for silence is proving quiet cumbersome to the obviously irritated band gathered in the helicarrier's large bridge area. These people are apparently part of something called SHIELD. She only learned of their existence yesterday when they disturbed her attempted escape from the underground bunker that has passed as her home for months now.
Or maybe it's been weeks.
"Well, find them quickly, Miss Tate," snaps Fury, his good eye narrowing in frustration. "Let's start simple. How did you first meet the war criminal known as Loki?"
The woman stops her braiding abruptly, sitting up a little straighter in her hard swivel chair. She tucks one leg under her slight frame and hugs her other knee to her chest, picking absently at the seam of her standard issue SHIELD stretchy pants.
"How long has it been?" she asks. "Since he took me? How long?"
"Three months."
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