@trickster-y

iamthegoodson:

Michael trembled with righteous fury, and he reassured himself that he was not trembling with fear. No matter how scared he might be, he would not show it. He would bury it, let it wither and die until he was no longer afraid.

“My threats are not empty, Loki,” he snapped, adjusting the grip on his blade. His eyes flicked to their surroundings, taking them in and readjusting his stance. “I don’t need to explain my tactics and reasoning to you.”

“I want you to die,” he hissed, pure hatred blazing through his words, “and I want you to suffer while you do so.”

He swallowed once, before leaping at the other with his sword in hand. Well, whatever happened now, he’d brought it upon himself. He should have controlled himself better, not allowed emotions to push through the path of logic and reason. Still he did not stop as he swung his sword at the other.

With Michael swinging in furious strokes, blinded by emotion, it was not hard for Loki to dodge each strike with ease, almost as if he was dancing around the angel.

“You may kill me, Michael. In fact, I may even permit it,” he said with a smile, expression unchanged as ever. With a flash of green, he disappeared from the front of the angel, reappearing behind him. “But know this, Michael,” he muttered into his ear before disappearing once more.

“I will haunt you.”

He appeared once more into the path of Michael’s blade, blocking the strike with his own scepter. “I am older than you, older than your god. You are a but a speck in my life, but,” he grinned, “I must admit, you are an entertaining speck.” 

He let the flesh of his cheek touch against the angel’s sword, drawing deep, crimson drops of blood. “This is my choosing, not yours.” The god smiled, disappearing and reappearing once more, a few feet further from the angel.

[thank hallelujah]

i have acquired an internet

it’s a miracle you guys are still here

i have returned from the dead

…again

@trickster-y

iamthegoodson:

trickster-y:

The trickster chuckled at the other’s revulsion.

“Aye. Hard to imagine, but entirely possible, yes?” he said, a mischievous grin adorning his cold lips. “For who could ever tell with a being such as I?”

Feigned surprise glittered in the god’s eyes. “Not mine? Why, Michael!” He smiled, honey sweet, his voice playful, “Can you not see? You are mine. Your very being is tied to the strings on my fingers.” The trickster dared to step closer, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Loki’s lips barely brushing against the shell of the angel’s ear. 

“If you really wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

“I think the most unpredictable thing you could do was become predictable, Loki,” he replied, unable to hide the fact that he snarled the other’s name. The other was something that (although utterly horrid, and Michael knew he should simply kill the other) was constant throughout his inner turmoil.

He hated to acknowledge that fact. It’d remain a secret taken throughout is existence until his final death. He would have to have it pried out from his dying breaths, have to have all he cared about threatened before it would spill from his lips.

He quickly stumbled back a few steps, blade slipping into existence and appearing in his hands. Yet, he did not strike; he stayed where he was and waited for the other to react to this new threat.

His lips turned up into an amused smile as the angel stumbled away fro him. Th trickster glanced over the blade. His gait did not tense, remaining nonchalant. Loki’s eyes returned to the angel’s own, his body coiled like a spring, taut and rigid.

“Come now, Michael. Empty threats will do you nothing. “

This action only caused him to be more sure of his statement. “I am right, am I not?” Loki held out his arms in an open gesture. “If you wished to strike me, you would have done it the moment you held your blade.”

“So, Michael, what do you really want?” the god asked. “But, then again, I have a feeling you do not even know that yourself,” he chuckled.

@trickster-y

iamthegoodson:

trickster-y:

‘…a monster that seems incapable of feeling anything’

Those words weren’t true. Loki could feel. Feel what? Anger? Hatred? Wrath? Envy? Yes. All of those.

But…

There was a time when he could feel other things. Happiness. Joy. Affection. Love. 

Loki tells himself that it’s a time long past.

Yes, maybe he is a monster after all.

The trickster stepped forward, still grinning. “Oh, Michael,” he sighed, lightly caressing the angel’s cheek, before poking his nose. “You really do care after all.” The scent of curiosity about the angel was sweet, and all the more fulfilling not to satisfy. Not really.

“My dear angel, what more could you expect from a monster like me? What would I do in my absence? Perhaps a murder spree or two?” he chuckled bitterly. “But then again, I may have just had a tea party while I was away, no? I hate predictability, after all.”

He barely restrained a hiss when the other stroked his cheek, flinching away from the touch. Despite all his bravado and power, the other had this way of worming past Michael’s defences and laying him bare.

He hated that feeling. He wished he were less weak around the other. He choked back his revulsion of the other’s closeness, before growling when he was poked on the nose.

“It is hard to imagine you sitting down and having a tea party,” he replied, trying to ignore the urge to punch the other in the face. “And I would ask that you refrain from calling me your dear angel. I’m nothing of yours, and I would rather you say my name.”

His words were less of a request, and more of a demand laced with a threat.

The trickster chuckled at the other’s revulsion.

“Aye. Hard to imagine, but entirely possible, yes?” he said, a mischievous grin adorning his cold lips. “For who could ever tell with a being such as I?”

Feigned surprise glittered in the god’s eyes. “Not mine? Why, Michael!” He smiled, honey sweet, his voice playful, “Can you not see? You are mine. Your very being is tied to the strings on my fingers.” The trickster dared to step closer, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Loki’s lips barely brushing against the shell of the angel’s ear. 

“If you really wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

trickster-y started following you

onedomesticatedarchangel:

trickster-y:

Loki was traversing through Midgard, his strolls being one of his guilty pleasures. However, he stopped in his tracks to see - no, it can’t be. Michael, the mighty archangel? In chains? Oh, now this was rich.

But… this Michael seemed… different. Besides the chains, that is. 

No, this was not the Michael he had met before, the Michael who so clearly despised him, who had fought him, tooth and nail. This wasn’t the Michael he knew.

The trickster approached him, his usual mischievous grin adorning his lips. He could see that the angel felt cold. He himself, however, could not feel the chill. In fact, he pondered whether he was actually adding to it. His eyes flickered towards the chain - it definitely wouldn’t be helping with the frost. He tutted to himself.

“Hello, Michael,” he smiled. “Feeling a bit chilly, are we?”

When he heard someone speaking and they mentioned his name, he instantly sat straighter and looked at this stranger with wide eyes. His wings flared in surprise, giving the other a perfect glimpse at how his once beautiful wings had been ruined by the humans. Clipped, dirtied, poked and prodded until Michael hid them from all who tried to touch them (aside from his master, but that was merely endured so he would not be sent away).

He nodded once, unsure whether or not he should dare to speak. The humans usually preferred silence, for they became uncomfortable around him once they realised he was actually as smart as a human (in all honesty, he was far more clever than their smartest human. He just had this intelligence hindered through the domestication).

He dropped his hands into his lap, wings folding against his back once more. He tried not to flinch whenever the chain fell against his neck, for the metal was almost icy to touch. He endured it, as he was a good pet and would not cause trouble.

It would be an understatement to say that Loki was disturbed by the sight. No, not due to disgust, but because of seeing a being so mighty reduced to nothing but a wreck - and he was not the one responsible for it.  

No, this was not the Michael he knew. This was someone completely and utterly different.

He did not like the unnerving silence, the angel’s response only a nod. Something foreign stirred within him. His fingers travelled to his coat, and before he knew it, he draped it across the angel’s shivering shoulders. Could it be? A hint of kindness? No, the trickster told himself. Impatience.

His eyes flickered across the chained form. “Speak up, angel! Where is your snark?” he hissed.

gurl go to sleep or write a story about toto and tonton going on an adventure]

B-but- oh, alright then. Talk to you soon, tonton!

I’m just itching to write

but

what the fuck do I write