Tag Archives: au: in dreams

It’s one of those gorgeous lucid dreams — the kind where a part of her is awake, struggling to hold on to what she sees. She’s dreaming of a wood: unfamiliar, old growth, wide spaces beneath the tall trees. And there is Loki, on the edge of the glade.

She doesn’t know which Loki; she knows so many, now. He changes, in that way that dreams do; now heartbreakingly young, now subtly marked with the weight of millennia. Always tall, so tall. Long hair, short hair; armoured, casual.

She cannot see his face. If she could see it, she might know — is she here for love, or hate? To die, or live?

In a dream, it could easily be both. Or neither.

She calls his name.

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild:

The weight on her body altered, changed, and she swallowed another painful laugh. Oh, yes, because stone was impervious to fire. This rock sucked up her heat and demanded more. She gave gladly — she was so obviously going to die, anyway; what worry burns from molten rock?

And then the darkness was alive, and it fucking chittered. She shrieked, revolted, every cell in her body trying to squirm away. “True darkness,” she spat, catching the end of his statement. “Light.” She couldn’t get the thought to come out coherently, but it should have been obvious — darkness and light were opposed, and if he had the darkness, she had the light, and he kept feeding hers.

Abandoning the rock, she drew back all the fire she’d been spraying, and all the emotions she’d been converting. Drew, and drew, and held, and held, hers and his and anyone else’s she could reach.

And let it all go, concentrating solely on the shift from emotion to fire and nothing else, immolating herself in the centre of an enormous bonfire that grew and grew and burned white hot.

A pitying sigh escaped him then… as the silly little thing’s ego attempted to puff itself up. Had her sanity and sense abandoned her at the thought of death?

Did she forget that he was Loki, the bringer of Ragnarok? What was the strength of her light when it was a mere result of fire? T’was only a thoughtless inferno of energy that could only shine and consume.

In the back of his mind, he made a note to thank Baldr for the gift that allowed him to tolerate any form of light, no matter its intensity.

“So you wish to burn? Then allow me assist you.” He kindly stepped forth into the heart of the girl’s foolishly churning flames. With a swift yank he gripped the base of her obnoxiously long ponytail and the golden glow of his magic began to intensify until its power bleached into the purest of light. The temperature rocketed from molten heat into a supernova’s mute fury.

And from the middle of it all Liesmith purred into her mind.

“Last chance to apologize, before I make your precious Tony Stark a single man~”

He had never met that version of the inventor before but he supposed it would be cruel to kill off his woman without one last chance to back out. A Stark was a Stark, no matter how questionable his taste was.

She could barely speak, heat bleeding through her body and leaching moisture. Her mouth was cracked, lungs seared with each struggling breath, but fire was fire, heat heat, and so pain was irrelevant at the centre of the element that was her heart.

Until Loki spoke again.

/That/ was pain. Tony.

But very little was more central to her sense of self than honesty, and so she spit back, in a croak, nearly voiceless, “I don’t apologise for truth,” and abandoned the broken, burnt body in his hands.

Dead.

All that was left was a fading, whispering yearning shaped of love, which soon vanished in the heat.

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild:

“I’m begging,” she hissed, through the pain of his foot in her spine. “Kill me. End this. I can’t stand to see you, you, take a shadow and make of it a form. Pygmalion did better than you!” Hot tears spilled out of her eyes, unnoticed. “Take the darkness and pretend it’s light, what a fool you are. At least I admit my follies; I’ve never pretended Tony was anything less than what he is. Or more.”

Growling at the pain, she forced herself over enough to snatch at the heel pressing down, and dumped fire into it. She was going to die now, whatever he did; nothing she did now could change that outcome. Maybe, she could at least leave some mark behind to show for it.

Fire, and fire, and more fire, all his anger into searing heat and crackling flames through her hands.

Liesmith huffed out an acid laugh at the woman’s seething request, “Well aren’t you dramatic. I’ve said this before: what I do with Anthony is none of your business.”

A flick of a wrist, a surge of a command and his magical clone promptly shifted shape in a mercilessly heavy block of granite. A paperweight for a paper tiger, it was wonderfully fitting.

“The fact that you think Anthony is a mere shadow or an inanimate product of obsessive workmanship, as your obtuse little reference implies… speaks volumes of you and of how little you know of true darkness.”

Out of the corner of Summer’s eye a dark centipede-like creature scuttled down from the ceiling and it was followed by a surging tide of black oil. The forms of terrible things solidified then dissipated in the falling and rising waves. It completely coated the ceiling, the wall and settled upon the floor.

A hundred sharp little legs crawled over the mortal woman’s neck like a scarf of needles.

“Allow me to relieve of you of your ignorance,” he smiled kindly.

The weight on her body altered, changed, and she swallowed another painful laugh. Oh, yes, because stone was impervious to fire. This rock sucked up her heat and demanded more. She gave gladly — she was so obviously going to die, anyway; what worry burns from molten rock?

And then the darkness was alive, and it fucking chittered. She shrieked, revolted, every cell in her body trying to squirm away. “True darkness,” she spat, catching the end of his statement. “Light.” She couldn’t get the thought to come out coherently, but it should have been obvious — darkness and light were opposed, and if he had the darkness, she had the light, and he kept feeding hers.

Abandoning the rock, she drew back all the fire she’d been spraying, and all the emotions she’d been converting. Drew, and drew, and held, and held, hers and his and anyone else’s she could reach.

And let it all go, concentrating solely on the shift from emotion to fire and nothing else, immolating herself in the centre of an enormous bonfire that grew and grew and burned white hot.

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild:

It hurt to laugh, after the way he’d flung her against the wall. But she couldn’t help the broken chuckles escaping her mouth. “D’you do aught but talk and toss? You threaten pain and death and jeer at me for m’gift, m’curse.” Yep, something was awry in her back now. “Zealotry. Ego. Mine.” She kept laughing, curled around the pain.

“Mine, and you with your pretty pretty dark Stark. They’re neither of them whole now, d’you know it? All you’ve tried, all your magic, he’ll never /be/ whole. Can’t be.” It’s a dream, it’s things she shouldn’t know, spilling out of her mouth along with the pain. She has always hated this aspect of her power most of all.

Knowing.

Liesmith rolled his eyes, “And predictably none of my thoughtful criticism has managed to penetrate that ludicrously THICK skull of yours,” without warning a clone appeared to grind his heel down upon the woman’s lower spine, “Are you asking me to truly hurt you?” he asked flatly with an unimpressed look upon his face, “Again, you are proving my point with your incessant masochism.”

The God down looked at her with a truly pitying expression, “Who says he has to be whole? There is nothing wrong with those who are incomplete.”

He held his hands behind him as he continued to stroll around her as he contemplated what to do. This woman’s brain matter was not even fit to stain his boots, he felt it would be awful if any of her stupidity even touched his person.

“I’m begging,” she hissed, through the pain of his foot in her spine. “Kill me. End this. I can’t stand to see you, you, take a shadow and make of it a form. Pygmalion did better than you!” Hot tears spilled out of her eyes, unnoticed. “Take the darkness and pretend it’s light, what a fool you are. At least I admit my follies; I’ve never pretended Tony was anything less than what he is. Or more.”

Growling at the pain, she forced herself over enough to snatch at the heel pressing down, and dumped fire into it. She was going to die now, whatever he did; nothing she did now could change that outcome. Maybe, she could at least leave some mark behind to show for it.

Fire, and fire, and more fire, all his anger into searing heat and crackling flames through her hands.

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild:

Involuntarily she shouted when she hit the wall, but pain was an old friend. She slapped the sense of it at Liesmith, like a knife of emotion, forcing him to feel what he’d done. A flare of fire bloomed out from her body. “Been easier ‘f you just dropped me out a window.”

Liesmith’s chuckle was low… dangerous thing as he felt the mild twang of pain, “Oh you mortals and your pathetically low thresholds.” if the woman thought he’d yelp from it like a smacked dog, then she was sorely underestimating the strength of a millenniums old God.

It was funny how so many teased him for getting smashed by the Hulk… but no one ever really dwelt on the fact that he had walked away from it alive with only a few cuts and bruises.

“It would have been easier if you did not stick your nose into my business in the first place!” he snapped as he began to walk around her in a wild circle, “Do you know why I refuse to listen to your useless words? It is because I can taste your zealotry and it churns my stomach. If you truly wished to help me… then you would not have dispensed your advice in such a foul manner. What did you wish for? For your insults to brush past a God as he nods and listens to your hot air and takes your supposed wisdom to heart?”

“I am in a severe crisis with my lover and you wish to use MY misfortune to boost your ego? You dare to use a God in such a way? You completely disgust me.”

It hurt to laugh, after the way he’d flung her against the wall. But she couldn’t help the broken chuckles escaping her mouth. “D’you do aught but talk and toss? You threaten pain and death and jeer at me for m’gift, m’curse.” Yep, something was awry in her back now. “Zealotry. Ego. Mine.” She kept laughing, curled around the pain.

“Mine, and you with your pretty pretty dark Stark. They’re neither of them whole now, d’you know it? All you’ve tried, all your magic, he’ll never /be/ whole. Can’t be.” It’s a dream, it’s things she shouldn’t know, spilling out of her mouth along with the pain. She has always hated this aspect of her power most of all.

Knowing.

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild:

the-anonymous-deceiver:

iamthefirechild replied to your post: (sensually moaning) Yeah, /that’s/ not going to happen. Liesmith wants to kill me because of his Anth’y, not sleep with me. … not that I’d object, you understand. *rolls her eyes*
“… why do I need to make it to the ground floor by sunset?”

“Because,” Liesmith rolled his eyes in his dream, “I will forcibly remove you from the property via the nearest window. I have to pick up dinner for Anthony tonight and I will not be late thanks to a moronic thing like you.”

“Prefer the window, please.”

“Give me any more cheek and I will crush one of your lumbar vertebrae… then you will have to drag yourself out with only your arms.”

“Try it and see what happens. Honestly, what in the world you people see in that man.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Involuntarily she shouted when she hit the wall, but pain was an old friend. She slapped the sense of it at Liesmith, like a knife of emotion, forcing him to feel what he’d done. A flare of fire bloomed out from her body. “Been easier ‘f you just dropped me out a window.”