Four of Them

this used to be a batman blog, i swear

singcactus:

Anon wanted: 

There aren’t any explicite spoilers for 645 or .1 but you might be confused if you didn’t read them or at least know the gist.  
Also, sorry if this is not what you wanted. 
500 Words
+++

It happens like this: 

They’re sitting at a Shake Shack around 79th street and he can see the realization dawn on her face. Miss America’s heart is in the right place and right now that place in the palm of his hand. He can feel everything line up. They’ll trust him completely. Just one more thing to cinch the deal and everything will be poised to come crashing down. 

He opens his mouth but instead of fatal final words there is a small white moth. Then another one. And another. Out of his mouth they come and with them go the words he was going to say.

Loki grips at his lips until they start to bleed and stares at the white bodies fluttering towards the light for a long moment. Then he teleports away to sound of surprised laughter from America and the sting of another plan gone wrong. 

And it happens like this:

He is casting a spell to finish off an already ailing god-king from a long forgotten mythos. Once this god-king is dead Loki will be set to assume his form and amass an army to attack earth. A perfect diversion for a perfect and much deeper plan. 

Or it would be, if the death runes he had been meticulously casting onto the stretched bit of lamb skin hadn’t been a series of bad puns upon a second look. 

It also happens that he more than once he has gone to sleep in his bed and woken up on a park bench or the bathroom floor or, on one memorable occasion, the attic of an elderly couple in Croton-Harmon. Sometimes when he wakes up there is blood in the spaces between his skin and his clothes. Sometimes it’s even his. 

And the blackouts, they’re getting longer. 

He thinks he must be protecting something and it makes him sick. 

He hasn’t mentioned anything about it to the others because it’s none of their goddamn business what he does when he should be sleeping but somehow he knows they know.

It’s the way they look at him, like how Gaea looks at her pets. Or how they sometimes touch him, his shoulder or his back, for no reason other than meaningless gesture. People have never touched him for no reason before. 

Somehow it’s been months since he’s been able to do anything bad and he is dying to know what he says to them when he’s sleeping.

And sometimes it happens that when he sees himself reflected in the glass of a mirror or window he could swear it’s looking back at him. He could swear it smiles and it cannot be him, he does not smile. But then he remembers it’s just his imagination, it’s all in his mind. 

There’s no such thing as a different Loki. Maybe. 

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