#he gradually unlocks parts of his brain he didn’t even know he could access and he like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelightofthingshopedfor · 4 years

Text

WIP Wednesday, kind of!

for @grandthorkiday this year, I really wanted to finally finish the fic I started for it last year, but that didn’t happen because literally everything is happening at the same time this October and also it’s hard to focus on writing in general right now. but then I thought of this older Sakaar fic that has been vaguely on my “I’m almost positive this is practically done if I would just put some time and effort into finishing it (but it’s also totally possible it’s nowhere near as close to being done as I think it is)” list for ages, and I realized it totally fit the definition for Grandthorki, and I thought maybe I could finish that real quick instead!

...I couldn’t. there’s a lot more to this one that needs to be written than I kind of thought, in part because it’s so old I wrote it before Ragnarok ever came out, so it was based purely on the trailer (and then inspired by some speculation by @theotherodinson, I think), and to finish this fic I would first have to decide if it would be more straightforward to just keep going with my pre-Ragnarok speculation or change the setup a bit to fit the film. also I would have to turn a bunch of bullet points into an actual conversation that would have to...make sense? and, like, establish things? and that’s hard even when my brain isn’t busy constantly screaming.

but! I can post most of what I already wrote, just for fun and because at least this is something Grandthorki-related that I haven’t already posted elsewhere! knowing me this could backfire because then I won’t have as much motivation to try to finish it but on the other hand it’s been sitting at this exact level of unfinishedness for like three years so it’s probably not going to hurt.

warnings: I kind of don’t know what to say here because nothing actually happens but there’s a lot of discussion of rape and graphic violence, so...warnings for that!

[the basic premise/assumption here was that Thor ended up on Sakaar at some point in his search for the Infinity Stones, was forced into the Contest, and gradually gained more of the Grandmaster’s favor and attention because he’s Thor and he’s great at fighting. it’s probably been months at this point, he’s one of the Grandmaster’s champions, and that earns him a reward that he extremely does not want: a few hours with a sex slave, basically.]

The Grandmaster calls them his pets, sentient beings he keeps because they are pretty rather than for their fighting prowess, but the term seems only partially accurate given that it implies both ownership and some level of exclusivity. The latter, at least, seems to apply on a purely arbitrary basis according to the Grandmaster’s whims. There are other appropriate terms, certainly, and Thor has heard plenty from the guards and his fellow warriors. “Pleasure slave” seems to be the most accurate while still remaining within the bounds of marginal politeness.

“Grandmaster must like you special,” the guard says in a confiding tone as they walk. “This one used to be one of his favorite pets, all personal like—didn’t share him much, real picky about what anybody could do with him. Guess the mouthiness lost its shine. Oh yeah, that reminds me—” He digs into his bag and emerges with a handful of metal. “Boy’s really got a mouth on him, so use this when you get tired of it. Or if you wanna make sure he won’t bite; he still hasn’t learned his lesson on that either. Up to you though; walls are soundproof, so whatever you get up to won’t bother nobody else.”

It’s a gag, Thor realizes, reminded with a jolt of the muzzle he fastened on Loki before bringing him back to Asgard, and he cannot afford to think about Loki now. “Thank you,” he says as politely as he can, “but I have no need of…that.”

“You do, trust me,” the guard says. “Only way the boys have found to shut him up and stop him biting. Never met somebody who runs his mouth like that. Dunno why the Grandmaster liked him so long. Oh, and it opens, see—” He twists something at the side of the gag and part of the mouthpiece folds inward. Another twist and the opening widens, and it takes very little creativity to imagine how the mechanism would force the wearer’s jaw wide. “Careful with that, by the way,” the guard adds. “Two turns gets him open, three or four is good, keep going and you can dislocate his jaw—which is fine, fixed that before, it’s just the kind of thing you probably want to know you’re doing, right?”

Thor’s stomach turns over. When he is free of this place, he will come back to help the other slaves. He forces a smile. “I assure you, I do not need such an instrument.”

“You’ll thank me when you change your mind later,” the guard says, shoving the gag into Thor’s hand. Thor gives up and takes it, because if he has learned nothing else in the last few years he has at least learned the importance of picking his battles. “He hasn’t been fed today, either, so no worries he’ll puke on you. Might get him to cooperate if you promise him food after, but that never really works with this one, so, probably a waste of time. All up to you though. Anyway—” He puts a hand over the locking panel and the room’s outer door slides open. “I’ll lock you in, come get you in a few hours. Comms are open in case you need something. And ‘cause we get bored.”

“And if I prefer not to have an audience,” Thor says.

The guard snorts. “You been here this long and you don’t get how things work? In you go.”

Thor sighs and does as he’s bid. The outer door hisses shut behind him and the inner door slides open, revealing a modestly appointed bedchamber. The bed is the largest thing in it, a sturdy-looking wooden construction with prominent bedposts, but Thor’s attention is drawn immediately to the figure kneeling on the floor. He is facing away, though not by choice; his wrists are shackled behind his back and bound to a metal loop in the floor with a short length of chain. Thor has no doubt the positioning is deliberate, just another way of reminding the slave of his powerlessness. His shoulders are rigid, his fingers curled into fists—blue fingers, Thor notes, with black nails, and blue skin at the back of his neck under black hair. Probably Kree, then, which makes it a little odd that he is not being used in the arena, instead of…this.

Thor grimaces and moves to put himself in the slave’s line of sight.

[aaaaand naturally the slave is Loki, miraculously alive after dying in Thor’s arms on Svartalfheim! also he doesn’t recognize Thor at all and in fact remembers nothing prior to waking up half-dead on Svartalfheim and being scooped up by the Grandmaster somehow! this is all very upsetting for Thor! it gets more upsetting when, in the conversation I haven’t written, Loki starts working really hard to goad Thor into a temper and Thor realizes what he’s trying to do!]

“You want the gag,” Thor says finally.

Loki jerks back, his mouth snapping shut. He recovers quickly, his eyes crackling with anger, but he’s not quite fast enough to keep Thor from glimpsing a flash of fear underneath. “What I want is irrelevant. This is about what you want, that is the entire point, and I know your type, dozens of times over. You’re a warrior. You want to win. You want to hear me beg you to stop, to show mercy you delight in withholding. And I am telling you now, you can do anything you like but you will not hear me beg, not for anything. So use the damn gag.”

And with a flash of nauseating clarity Thor gets it, why Loki’s working so hard to goad others into forcibly shutting him up, because it’s the one tiny piece of control he has left. Unbidden, the image forces itself into his mind: Loki, eyes squeezed shut in pain, screaming into the gag and clinging to the very last scraps of his pride with the knowledge that if he breaks and begs for it to stop, no one will know—clinging to those scraps even though his defiance hurts him, because he has been left with nothing else that is still his.

[Thor gets real upset! upset enough to unlock his lightning powers without access to Mjolnir? yep!]

Loki’s red eyes widen, his bravado visibly wavering, and his voice shakes just a little as he says, “Well done, that’s actually a new one.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, “this will hurt, but I will be quick,” and he reaches out one crackling hand for the collar.

[Loki’s eyes widen etc. here instead probably] and he cringes away, raw panic breaking through his bravado, but if the guards are not already on their way they will be soon, and there is no time to spend on reassurances Loki will have no reason to believe anyway. Thor steels himself and lunges, seizing the chain at Loki’s wrists with one hand and his collar with the other, and Loki’s body snaps taut as lightning floods into him.

Once, over a century ago, a journey with Sif and the Warriors Three went disastrously wrong, resulting in Thor and Loki stranded alone on Muspelheim, relentlessly pursued by a dozen Fire Giants and unable to get far enough away to safely call on Heimdall. By the time the giants truly cornered them, they’d been running for three days straight without water or sleep, Loki’s magic was nearly depleted from several aborted attempts to hide them and open a pathway between realms, and Thor couldn’t draw down a storm from the painfully dry desert air. With no options remaining to them, Loki convinced Thor to channel the last dregs of Mjolnir’s lightning through Loki himself, in the theory that doing so might amplify what little remained of Loki’s magic and grant him the power needed to escape. It was a mad, desperate gamble that could have easily killed him and nearly did, but it worked, leaving Thor with—among other things—an unsettlingly precise knowledge of how much lightning Loki’s body could take without dying.

He has not thought of that incident in years, but he is glad of it now, especially without Mjolnir to help him control his power.

When everything clears, Loki is sprawled on his back, staring up at Thor and breathing hard, freed of all his bonds. His expression shifts through pain and fear and shock into confusion and then, finally, a faint glimmer of recognition, and he says hoarsely, “…Thor?”

Thor exhales, relief and battle-lust tangling inside him, and holds out his hand to help Loki up. “Come, brother. It’s time to get out of this place.”

Loki stares at him for a moment longer, his throat working, and then he reaches back and takes Thor’s hand.

#loki #thor #sakaar #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #rape tw #grandthorki #occasionally I write things #sometimes I even finish them but not often #cw noncon implied #fic #text

12 notes · View notes

the-wintershade · 4 years

Text

never believing in things unseen

pairing: loki x reader summary: you don’t need anyone but he still needs you wc: 2.9k+ genre: a little angsty, not much else

Mirage: mini series — 01 | 02 | ... |

“We think he’s after the Tesseract.” A holographic projection hummed a shifting blue in front of you. “And we don’t know why.”

It seemed pretty easy to you. The Tesseract could guarantee infinite access to space and anything it encapsulates. It would mean control over galaxies upon galaxies of life, minerals, and whatever else he demes useful. Noteworthy.

It was power, a desire rooted in the very essence of humanity, passed from bloodline to bloodline in a never ending spiral. Of course some were better than others in resisting its pull but everyone had to face the hunger of power at some point.

But Loki wasn’t human. He was a god. And gods always wanted fame, power, adoration.

It made sense.

“Agent?” Your eyes shifted back into focus to find fury’s dark eyes watching you intently. You felt bare, like he could see the events of last night written all over your eyes. Clearing your throat, you took a breath.

“If we consider the idea that he’s a god, and inferior to his brother, it could explain his greed for the Tesseract.” You splayed your hand on the table and propped yourself up on it.

He scanned your features again and you tried as best as you could to keep from shaking. You’d passed many simulations that included lying, heavily, but nothing unnerved you quite as much as fury’s stare — even with only one eye.

He crossed his arms and turned towards you. “I’m listening.”

You brought his attention to the Tesseract. “We don’t really understand the full potential of this object — and, to be frank, I’m not sure we ever will — but it’s likely he does. That makes it valuable to him. He has information we don’t which makes him valuable to us.”

He frowned and he peered at you. “Your point?”

You took a shaky breath, still surprised at you were about to do.

“How about we offer a trade?”

Fury visibly bristled at the idea and took a step back. “That’s not an option.” His tone, clipped and firm, deterred you a bit, but you needed him to at least listen.

“Look, no one said anything about actually giving him what he wants — it’d be like giving the nuclear arsenal to a power hungry terrorist — but a disguised trade. We give him something that mimics the Tesseract, it’s glow, feeling, sound, and in order to exchange ownership of it, he has to tell us what the Tesseract is.”

You watched his eyes shift, speculatory satisfaction flickering across them. You’d seen that look before; it always signaled how impressed he was.

“Say we go along with this plan of yours, what makes you think he’ll fall for it?” He peered over to you, expectant.

“I don’t think he will.” A flash of shock appeared in his features. “But if we give him something else to focus on, he’ll fold. All it takes is a distraction. Something to draw his attention away from the slight flaws in the fake Tesseract enough that he’ll cave. It’s like dreaming. You’ll never truly realize how strange it was until you’ve awoken.” You finish with what you hope is seen as reassurance.

He seems pleased and his arms unfold. “Okay, officer. What will the distraction be?”

You breathe before looking him in the eye. “Me.”

…

It wasn’t your finest moment. But it could be doable.

Loki’s promise still echoed in the recesses of your mind. The words raised initial anger but eventually traveled further than mere surface emotions and buried themselves in a place meant for very delicate feelings.

It was a place you hid because who likes wearing their heart on their sleeve to let it get crushed over and over again?

But to win Loki, to win his open honesty, you’d have to make him believe that his words unlocked something in you.

Which they didn’t. You were a thinker and a force of nature; you don’t have time for silly feelings and emotional attachments.

Hurricanes never stopped turning because their favorite bar was in the path of their destruction. Brilliant scientists worked better alone and lived in blissful solitude.

You didn't need someone in your life.

You never did.

…

You knew the click of those heels. You also knew the probability that you probably wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Well, well, very inspiring.” She popped her bubblegum and took a seat next to you at the bar. “Another hero, ready to save the day. Life on the line.”

You smiled into your glass of whiskey. “Good to see you too, Nat.”

She ordered her usual — brandy, neat — before turning to you, smiling. “So, how’s my favorite fledgling spy doing? Kiss anyone yet? I hear it’s very effective.”

“Unfortunately, no.” You sighed as you set your glass down on the polished mahogany. “I think I’ll leave the part of the temptress up to you. You’re better at it anyway.”

She watched you as she drank. “You do realize, if you take this mission, you’ll be doing the same thing I am.” She ordered another drink. “The only exception: you likely won’t have to kill him.”

You swallowed, slightly uncomfortable. Her eyes, always analyzing and observing, no doubt picked up in the slight shift in your demeanor.

Natasha and you collaborated on a few projects here and there, nothing too exciting or noteworthy. But over the years you’d developed a friendship and, something you allowed yourself, trust.

You chuckled, trying to cover a bit of your worry. “I’ll try not to aim for the chest, or head, for that matter.”

“I get it.” Your eyes snapped to her only to find her brandy swirling in small circles in its glass. “I know that you don’t like the thought of killing someone and I know you have disguised emotions.” She smirked. “I know that this is going to be much harder for you because of it.” She took a sip of her liquor, giving you a minute to mull over what she said.

“But I don’t have any feelings for him.” You protested, leaning over to her as she drank.

She snorted. “Of course you do. When I even brought up the notion of killing him you immediately stiffened.” She gently put a hand on your shoulder. “But that’s okay. It’s alright to acknowledge your emotions, it gives you power over them. But you have to keep the end goal in mind.”

She kicked back the rest of her drink and a question you wanted to ask her for a while bubbled to your lips.

“How do you do it? Work past the emotional thing?”

She paused and sighed. “I stick to the plan. Even when it hurts.”

…

Overnighters sucked.

Especially when the only work you had left you feeling more tired than awake. It felt as if every word you read sucked more and more energy out of you. You were fairly certain there was a fine line of red rimming your eyes and the pouches underneath them were puffy and irritated.

But the longer it took you to return to your house the better. Loki would be prowling around your building again — as he always did every couple of days — and, without its inhabitant, he would begin to question, to worry.

He’d never seen you not available to him. You were always there, always available. The truth was you liked routine, you liked predictability, and because he was the least predictable being on the planet, that was confusing for you: and insanely irritating.

Natasha couldn’t have been right. You didn’t have feelings for him, far from it. It was annoyance and his childish disposition that bothered you when it concerned him. Feelings were never involved and would never be involved.

Besides, if those feelings came along you wouldn’t know them anyway.

You let out a groan as your head fell to your desk and onto your crossed arms. This wasn’t going to be easy and you knew you couldn’t change the way you acted as soon as he showed up. You hated admitting his intelligence but he was smart, really smart.

A slight change of attitude would tip him off to your intentions.

Besides, this was only pretend. This thing you were going to do wasn’t real; this was all imaginary. How you would convince him off the authenticity, you had no idea.

But maybe you could start with his idea of falling for him, slowly and gradually, and make him believe his witty charm was actually attractive.

Tricking him in the end though would be your best reward. Then he could finally leave and get away from you. And then your life could return to as normal as possible.

No distractions.

No tricks.

No deception.

And definitely no men breaking in at god knows when in the morning.

…

Your clothes cling to your skin and rivets of cold, wet rain slid down the sides of your neck.

In all fairness, you had no clue it would rain. But you were always prepared, your father always made sure of that.

You could see your black umbrella in the car underneath the seat as if you were staring right at it as you jogged down the street, arms crossed, hands digging into your biceps.

But what better a damsel in distress than a freezing cold, slightly sick one. One that let her walls slide down for a moment, an instant, before shielding herself again.

Didn’t he want to play the role of a noble knight, fierce protector? Wasn’t that his goal, to make you feel as though you needed him as much as he needed you?

He would get his sampling.

Slightly coughing and ringing wet, you slipped through the apartment doors. Just as you turned on the light, you heard the sound of a window seal popping and feet on the floor.

“Can’t I have just one second? One! To myself before you come running into my…” you couldn’t recall a time pure worry stood openly on his face and your complaint died on your lips.

His eyes, opened and slightly blue, conveyed fear and he seemed to walk to you in a slight daze. His fingertips felt like liquid fire as he gently stroked your face, moving your wet hair out of it.

“Where have you been?” He mumbled, deeply. Your brain turned off for a second and you started to lean into his gentle touch. Think. You snapped out of it and turned away.

Kicking your shoes off, you brushed past him and laid your things down on your couch. Just as you’d moved past the island of your kitchen, he was right in front of it, pressing you into it.

His nose hovered near your forehead and you felt your body heat respond to the closeness of him. “Don’t run away. I’ve only just begun to see the full picture.” His wall appeared again, the wittiness a deflector for your lack of response.

Loki made a good habit of using his charm and wit to cover up his concern. His open display of it at your door was new, but you couldn’t entertain it yet.

He holds your face between his hands, rubbing his thumbs soothingly across your cheeks. They feel soft but tough and strong and you try to keep reminding yourself about the mission.

“You have to take better care of yourself, you’ll catch a cold.” He takes a towel from the counter and starts to gently rub your hair. His eyes are still concerned but arrogance crept in and slowly you see his wall starting to harden, to take shape.

You feel his fingers acutely, as if they’re actually on your scalp and no separated by a towel. It almost feels as if they burn.

His finger covered towels press into your head and move around, collecting the beads of rainwater lying in your hair. You let him have his moment, relaxing slightly, then you slide the towel out of his hands and do it on your own.

You can’t appear to let your guard down completely. This is only step one in a long process.

He sighs and traps you with his arms, a smirk covering his face. “What took you so long? And why are you drenched? It’s a bit out of the ordinary to see you so unprepared.”

Tilting over slightly, your fingers nimbly gather your hair into the towel and with a twist, your hair sits in a cotton plop on your head. It gives you something to do as you try to think of a response. He lets you walk away as you turn from him and move towards the kitchen sink.

You could say you forgot it but he would know you were lying. You could say you were in a hurry to get home, but that would bring its own set of problems and concerns requiring sets of lies to cover — much too risky.

If you could somehow make him believe it was an emotional issue, that might work.

He wants to believe he can solve your enigma.

“I needed the walk.” You turn to him and find electricity in his gaze. It’s unnerving; it makes it hard to focus. “I…wanted a walk in the rain.”

He looks unconvinced but you hold your ground. If you’re going to lie, you’re going to do this right. “That seems to be out of the ordinary for you.” His footsteps remind you of the shackles on the ghost of Christmas past. They clang together, a metallic ringing of imminent doom.

“Yeah, well…” you lean against the counter, palms down and try to keep your voice calm but make it waver. The more angst you can create, the better. “Things haven’t been easy lately. They’ve been...nevermind.”

You move away and there is no surprise when you’re trapped against the counter again. “Ah-ah-ah, not so fast.” He smiles down at you, satisfied and triumphant. Then his eyes shift, worry coloring them again. “What’s happened?”

You create a forced laugh as if you’re trying to make light out of a difficult situation. “It’s nothing, really. Nothing I can’t handle. I really don’t want to get into it right now.” You try to escape his restraints, but his arms don’t move and they now move up to your arms.

His gaze deepens and he draws yours up to his as he slightly squeezes your forearms. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, swear it.”

You smile, half-fake, half-real. As much as you want to believe him, you know who he is. Just as he only lets you see what he wants you to see, you’ve been controlling his perception of you the whole time he’s been here.

This is a game for two.

This is a battle of the mind, not of the heart.

You’re pretty sure his care isn’t totally sincere, that there’s some ulterior motive; you expect it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing here badgering you about an issue in Loki fashion if there wasn’t something else on his mind.

“What are you really here for, Loki?” His smile drops a bit and you giggle, finally seeing victory. You know he’s been controlling what you see; now he knows too.

His smile returns at your giggle but only with half the perfection it contained before. “To check on you.”

You ignored the small flutter in your stomach and focused on the facts. The facts would protect you. The facts would never lie to you. The facts would keep you safe.

You smiled again, tilting it to appear slightly saddened, your eyes drooping. Removing your arm from his hand, you reach up to his face and touch it like it could break. “If only that were true.” You mold your voice to sound sad, hurt.

His barrier is breaking, you can see it in his eyes. As he opens his mouth, you turn away and trod toward your bedroom. “But that’s what I’m here for. You didn’t come home till late and you're drenched, you're never this unprepared. This isn’t like you.”

You don’t respond and just keep moving. He hates it when you don’t respond.

Soon enough — you even have to suppress a smile — he’s in front of you. “Say something. Please.”

You have to stop because he blocks your path but you stare at his boots, looking despondent.

He tilts your chin up. “Say something.” He whispers in an open plea. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” His eyes explore your face but you keep yours straight, attempting to look far away.

When you do speak, it’s a real question, one playing around in your mind for a while. “Do you just come here for information?” Your eyes slide over to his and he watches you with sadness and pain. “Is that all I am to you?”

“No,” he breathes out. He reaches out and pulls your foreheads together. “No, that’s not all that you are.” He sighs and tries to speak again “I-”

You sigh and move away from him. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself. I only see what you want me to. I get it.” You move around to your bedroom and closed the door just as he called out your name.

You'd only noticed now how cold your clothes are. You’d only just noticed the salt mixing in with rain droplets on your cheeks.

#loki x reader #loki fic #loki angst #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #marvel fanfic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fic #mirage #mirage:ms #loki: mirage #mirage: loki #mini series

40 notes · View notes

mycoronervinny · 4 years

Text

re: Quai, Part 3

Vincent sat in his office alone. The blinds behind his desk were drawn, but thin lines of afternoon sunlight still seeped in that highlighted bits of letters that were open and scattered about his desk. It was past noon, or so he thought, and he had done little except for make a pot of coffee (which he then didn’t drink) and let his face stubble get a little longer.

He checked his pocket watch. 1:20 in the afternoon. There were no meetings scheduled, and no colleagues stopping by. His day was completely open, yet he felt like doing nothing.

“Am I depressed or something?” he muttered. He pushed himself off his chair and went to the side door that led to the alley. The view wasn’t anything to rave about, in fact it no longer *had* a view (except for a stone wall, thanks to the business that went up behind his office a couple of years ago, cutting off his back access to the park), but to Vincent, even when the alley was fraction of what it used to be, it was a sanctuary.

He stepped out into the alley, closing the door behind him. There were a couple of stools out here, including a small garden (though it was nothing but cold hardened dirt this time of year) against the wall. He lit a cigarette, took a quick drag, then leaned back on the brick wall and let out a long, smokey sigh. “Alright.” he said. The next words were about to be “One quick smoke, then it’s time to get work done.” but before he could say that he noticed (and would later internally smack himself for not noticing earlier) that he wasn’t alone.

There was a person, about eight meters to his left, standing over his (now dormant) garden and open trash containers, and appeared to be rummaging around.

Vincent cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” he said, but the person either didn’t hear or ignored the greeting. Vincent was now used to seeing vagrants in Stormwind, it was a large city after all, and the marathon of Wars left a lot of veterans and civilians displaced from their home or outside of the care of the Crown for some reason or another. He assumed this was another person scavenging, or maybe they were looking for a spare key for his house.

Something was off about this one though, and Vincent realized that there was no physical way for this person to have been able to enter the alley. The wall in the back that went up with the Florist or Jeweler or, whatever it was, went up so high that no normal person should have been able to scale it. And the other entrance was a tall, magically secured gate. Vincent wondered if they perhaps dropped down from one of the rooftops of the buildings that shared his offices. Maybe a third floor window that they climbed out of after fleeing someplace?

“There’s nothing in there but a few dead Peaceblooms,.” Vincent said. “Maybe a walnut that the squirrels left. This is private property, by the way.”

The trespasser didn’t react at first, but they did slow down gradually, eventually coming to a stop. They turned around, showing a disheveled face that was half covered in greasy black hair - a man. He stood straight up as he turned, and Vincent noticed he was quite large, even compared to him. A Kul Tiran, possibly. His eyes were sunken, but not unfocused. This was not some addle-brained wandering homeless, and now Vincent perceived that despite the deep sunken circles around his eyes (which appeared at first glance to be the eyes of your average slum drunk), there was some sinister lucidity behind them.

“The whispers.” the man said. “The whispers brought me...here.” he pointed down at the ground where there was nothing but a cracked stone in the walkway.

“I don’t recall putting out that type of advertisement.” Vincent said, flicking his cigarette down to the ground. “But why don’t you come by another time, you can even use the front door.” he said, pointing over his shoulder. Behind him, the magic-secured gate unlocked by itself, allowing access to the outer Trade District.

“He showed me, now my eyes are open. Soon, all eyes will be open.” the stranger said as he took another step. Vincent took a step back as well, but kept facing the man.

“It’s time you saw, too.”

“No thanks.” Vincent said, then hurled a fireball right towards the man’s chest. It soared through the alley, lighting up the stone walls as it traveled. It hit him dead on, and he flew back into the garden bed, smashing it and spilling black dirt all over the ground. Vincent sighed, then started walking towards the body. A small trail of smoke, like that of a burned out bonfire, was twirling off of his singed shirt. He stood over him, then noticed something around his neck. He crouched down, then removed a necklace from him. It was a trinket common amongst Tide Sages. Was this person at one point a colleague of Merrick, his old Tide Sage contact?

Vincent felt a cold hand grip his wrist. He looked down and saw that the man’s eyes had opened. An intense energy enveloped the two of them that filled Vincent with deep terror, and for a moment he thought he was teleported somewhere else entirely, to a place that looked like his home but...not quite. Before he could contemplate this further, Vincent saw that the man’s eyes were lit with that same intense blue glow from before.

“Now you know the truth.” he said, his breath staggered. “You’ve carried this burden long enough-” he looked down, and his expression turned from deranged and serious to one that was more...deranged and confused. He felt his grip on Vincent loosen, but when he tried to grip tighter he felt no response.

“And you’ve kept me from work too long.” Vincent said.

The trespasser’s hand had turned into a hoof, a sheep’s hoof to be exact. And as the man’s eyes followed his arm down toward his elbow, he noticed more and more of his body becoming sheep-like as Vincent’s Polymorph spell enveloped him.

“N’Zoth rises! N’Zoth...behhhhh.” bleated the sheep.

“Another victim of the Old God.” Vincent muttered. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so…”

“Off lately?” a whisper from inside his head rang. Vincent wondered if that was his conscious or not. He shook his head, then tied up the sheep.

“You can snack on the crushed Peaceblooms if you get hungry.” he told the sheep. It looked at him, eyes pointing in two directions, then lowered its head and started munching on a partly ruined green stem. Vincent turned around and walked back inside. He would call a guard in a few minutes, but first he would do something he’d been putting off.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of blank parchment and a pen.

“Quai,

I received the payment from the job and have deposited it, thank you. I will pass along your regards to Lee as well. As for the next assignment,”

He paused for a moment, twirling the pen with his fingers a couple of times.

“, if there is a next assignment, I hope you would consider bringing me along. I hope you don’t believe I was scared off after last time.”

He considered ending it there, and if he was being honest with himself he wasn’t entirely sure what else he would say anyway. “Sorry I gave you a hard time about the dangerous mission?” The fact was that every mission he’d been on with Blackbay since he joined up had been risky. Something had bothered him about the last mission though, and he wasn’t certain if this letter was the right time to explore that. Perhaps in time the answer would come to him, or if Quai was ever in town again he could talk to her personally. In the meantime though he needed to finish at least one task today, so he ended the letter with:

“Let’s talk soon. Hope you are doing well.

-Vincent”

Outside there was another muffled “Behhhh”.

@quai-mason

6 notes · View notes

abzzz3 · 6 years

Text

Let Me Prove You Wrong (Part 10)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: You go on an expedition to find evidence of Midgard connecting to Yggdrasil, the Ash Tree connecting all nine realms, not really believing it could be totally real.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of horrific nighmares

Word Count: 1,560

Your eyes flashed open and a gasp escaped your lips, free of what horrors had just played through your mind. Your eyes adjusted to the room around you as your chest heaved, as though you had been holding your breath before waking up. Your room was as it had been when you fell asleep, a total mess with just your armchair cleared in case Loki decided to stop by and wanted to sit down. You had been dating for a few weeks now, but hardly anyone knew, and he still tried not to sit on your bed or stay the night, out of decency for you.

Because of this, he wasn’t here right now to calm and sooth you, and as much as part of you wished he was here, the other part of you was grateful he wasn’t. You had been having these nightmares for a couple of weeks now and you didn’t want him to worry about you, much less see you in this state. The first night this started happening you were so horrified by the images and the fact that your brain could imagine them that you had thrown up the fish you had cooked that night. Then each night followed as the one before, with nightmares of varying disgust and horror waking you, a cold then hot shower and back to bed for whatever time you had left before your alarm rang.

Tonight was no different, except that this time by the time you were out of the shower it was only an hour until your alarm went off, so you decided to head to the office early. Arriving before anyone else was very uncommon for you, but you worked with a group of people who would generally keep their noses out of other people’s business. Especially yours, as you all knew that you were the least experienced and knowledgeable one in the room, but you got the impression they liked your company so it wasn’t all bad. You unlocked the door and turned on the lights, lighting the entire room instantly as though it was midday, before heading to the coffee machine on the kitchenette bench and turning it on. The coffee ground loudly and the milk frothed, mixing together to make the first of many coffees for the day.

“Morning (Y/N)!”

You jumped, almost spilling part of your coffee on the floor, and turned around to see Dr Evans walking in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“That’s alright, I was in my own little world anyway. Are we still set for midday?” You asked

She nodded, proceeding to make her first coffee for the day “Yes, the team is all packed to go, now we just need to make sure we’re not missing any information to take with us” She confirmed

The book you had all been studying for the past few weeks had given information about a location in the center of Russia that was believed to be where Midgard connected to Yggdrasil, the Ash Tree that connected all the nine realms. Of course none of you really believed that particular part of the lore, though Thor and Loki would probably swear that it existed.

The rest of your morning was spent checking and re-checking everything and packing a bag of clothes to wear because no one was sure how long they would be there for, at most a couple days you were all expecting. You still hadn’t told Loki exactly what you were doing in Russia for the next couple of days, and as if on cue he turned the corner and headed towards the Quin-jet to see you off.

“Hello darling” He greeted, quiet enough so no one else heard “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?”

“I haven’t even told you if it’s Norse, it could be Greek” You replied, and that all-knowing smirk appeared on his face

“You have been studying that book none stop since you got back. It’s not going to be Greek”

He did have a point; most of the stuff we worked on was Norse as that was most obviously the immediate requirement.

“I know what’s in Russia, (Y/N)” Loki whispered, brushing his fingers against yours, respecting your wishes to keep the PDA out of public eye

“Please be careful, there are things in that cave that you don’t want to open”

You could hear the concern in his voice and right then, you totally believed that if you went deep enough you could walk out onto the branches of Yggdrasil and make your way to any of the other realms. But, even that was too farfetched right now for you to take it completely seriously and a lot of lore (specifically folklore) has been embellished over time and completely flipped on it’s head to the point where what you actually discover is probably just an unearthed gold deposit underground, or an un-natural coloured water that is totally natural for the chemicals in the area.

“That’s why we have the handbooks and all the information we can find about it. I’ll be fine, I promise” You consoled him, lifting up the very thick, ring bound handbook that your team had made.

You both said your goodbyes and you left, wishing to have given him a hug before leaving, but your mind was lead elsewhere as everyone was briefed on the area, and what we are looking for. The briefing was more for the expedition team who would be helping us gain access to the cave and stay safe in there. As you neared closer, everyone put on their heavy winter gear and goggles, wanting to make this transition of everyone and all the equipment from the Quin-jet into the cave as quick and seamless as possible with the harsh weather that was awaiting them.

The cave was still at freezing temperature for the first few kilometers in, but then it began to get warmer as we made our way down and in, lights being turned on as you went and it got darker.

“We’ll set everything up here” Dr. Newman called and everyone halted to begin unpacking the equipment and setting up their base

You kept looking ahead though, noticing a gradual change in the colour and texture of the rock for the rest of the distance you could see.

“I’m going to keep walking for a bit, I’ve got my walkie-talkie if anyone needs me” You called out, not waiting for a reply before putting one step in front of the other

The brushed your hand along the cave walls, watching your step as you walked and just so full of curiosity and adrenaline that you wanted to keep running until you either reached the end of the cave or some magical, over-exaggerated doorway. You didn’t though; you stayed calm and walked steadily until you felt something underneath your shoe, and looked down to see a small patch of fully thriving moss. You fumbled with the walkie-talkie and began speaking.

“Guys, I’ve found plant life down here. I think there’s more up ahead”

You kept walking forward, hearing them say they’d sent a team to you and to make sure not to touch anything yet. Every step you took though exposed more moss until nearly the whole floor was covered and it was climbing up the walls, to the point where you could almost swear it was turning into grass. You were holding your breath and it was only because of that did you hear dripping water, and you froze. You could definitely see how this could be considered the start of Yggdrasil.

Now you were jogging towards the sound, stopping every thirty seconds to make sure it was getting louder.

“There’s water down here guys, I can hear it”

There was no response but you assumed that was just because the team was getting close to you and they could also hear it. You weren’t sure how long you had been walking for, but it only felt like 20 minutes, which made it so peculiar when you saw a small gap in the stone and stuck your head through gasping. It was an absolutely huge reservoir that would be impossible to find the bottom of and on the roof was a tree branch the size of a double Storey house and the length of the entire space.

“Guys, I think I found it”

Still no reply. You had taken a few steps in to the space by now but didn’t dare go any further, especially as you now weren’t hearing anything from the others. You turned around to make your way back through the crack that should have been directly behind you, but there was nothing now.

“Shit. It was right here, I swear it was right here” You muttered to yourself, anxiety setting in and spiking to maximum instantly

You dropped the lamp and began feeling the wall for the entrance, walking along the whole ledge you were on in case you had moved further than you thought, but there was nothing. You were trapped. You fell to the ground crying, and unsure of how to handle this or what to do next, hating yourself for not staying with the group. Your anxiety was so high that your vision started to blur and you passed out.

@marvel-fan-queen @lokilvrr @thricethechrises @staringmoony @fire-in-her-veinz @arielletheavenger @yearbody99

#Loki Laufeyson #lokixreader #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #marvel #avengers #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #let me prove you wrong #abzzz3 #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

35 notes · View notes

willsherjohnkhan · 2 years

Text

The Spying Game

Chapter 7: No Matter the Cost

***

Jim Moriarty had joined the Irish Republican Army as a teenager, and had gradually worked his way up the ranks. He was an ambitious and driven individual, with plans for the IRA that went far beyond what many currently in command had. For Moriarty didn’t intend to just simply reunite Ireland, he wanted to bring down the British Government completely.

It had taken time, but gradually his views began to gain momentum. But just as he was on the point of pressing his advantage, war broke out.

In the blink of an eye the mindset became about keeping a united front against a common enemy, with the repressive British Government deemed a lesser evil against that represented by the Nazis.

The decision left all his grand plans in tatters.

In disgust at such weakness, Moriarty cut all ties with the organisation that had once meant so much to him.

He had bigger plans.

He set his sights on joining forces with the Nazis to ensure that they won the war. If being regarded as a traitor was what it took to destroy the British Government, then so be it.

Of course the disadvantage of no longer being a part of a large and established organisation meant that his task of making contact with someone high-up in the Nazi Party and being able to prove his worth as a reliable source was greatly diminished.

But Moriarty was the type to always have his ear to the ground, constantly on the lookout for potential information that could be of the most use to him. So when he heard rumours of a Soviet double-agent working as a code-breaker for the British Government, it seemed like things were looking up. He immediately set about finding all he could about John Cairncross, where he lived and worked, what he did in his leisure time.

So there was more than divine intervention at play when he found him drinking at The Pelican Tavern.

THE PELICAN TAVERN

Moriarty instantly spotted Cairncross as soon as he entered the pub, sitting as he was on his own in a secluded corner. And it was clear he’d been drinking heavily.

“John Cairncross.”

Cairncross looked up at the man now standing in front of him. Even in his inebriated state he was positive their paths had never passed.

“Who wants to know?”

“A friend,” Moriarty replied as he slid into the seat opposite.

Cairncross snorted in disbelief. The sudden appearance of the stranger only appeared to confirm his suspicions that MI6 knew what he’d been doing even before he’d arrived at Bletchley Park.

As Moriarty listened to Cairncross wallow ever deeper into a state of righteous self-pity, a cunningly devious plan began to form in his mind.

And once that happened, the double-agents fate was sealed.

ALLEYWAY

Moriarty assisted the now very drunk Cairncross out of the tavern and along the street until a dark and secluded alleyway presented itself.

Without hesitation he dispatched the code-breaker with a blow to the back of the head with a truncheon he always carried with him.

Luck was with him when he discovered the perfect place to hide the body until he was ready for it to be conveniently discovered. He dragged Cairncross’ body into an unlocked storage area behind the tavern, placing the body in a cool storage unit that didn’t look like it had been used in awhile.

With Cairncross’ wallet, papers and Bletchley Park ID he headed to the train station to catch the last train to Bletchley.

Having a theatrical bent, it wasn’t difficult for Moriarty to impersonate Cairncross. The revelation that Cairncross didn’t socialise with his fellow code-breakers allowed Moriarty to limit his interactions with them.

His sharp eyes and quick brain soon established where ULTRA, the decrypted Enigma messages were kept, and more importantly how to access them.

Once he had what he needed, he used the contacts he had managed to make to arrange a meeting with Nazi officials, before returning to London, disposing of Cairncross’ body into the Thames and then heading to Dover, where a boat would be waiting to take him and the precious information he carried to Germany.

***

#Sherlolly #WWII Case Fic

0 notes