#( side muse ) asmund

[sagesipsblog]

This is an interesting post to write. My love of writing, my love of Tarot, my cynical desire to attract Tarot clients with the blog and socials and my sincere admiration and enthusiasm for the Alleyman Tarot, Oracle and Podcast are all crashing into each other right now. In his YouTube posts for the original Alleyman Tarot deck,  Mr. Asmund hinted at  vision of the deck creator, card artists, Tarot readers and Tarot clients all being a part of ephemeral, ethereal, muse-like  collective I that co-creates the giving of messages and spiritual learning. My hope is to contribute. My impulse is to boost the signal in whatever small way I can. I don't want to take inadvertent advantage of their work and popularity. In the spirit of full disclosures, I feel compelled to take the usual detour to tell you that this isn't a paid promotion, nothing was provided by Publishing Goblin except their kind permission to use these materials in my blogging and social media. I want to be a good member of the "Alleyfolk" so please, visit publishinggoblin.com and be sure to read the artist credits in the guidebooks if you can. Sometimes I get in the flow of reading and forget the rigorous details. According to the dice guidebook, the artist for today's Lord Card is by Czarfunkle.There are  parallels between the oracle dice and Tarot cards. After we chose 7 of the 22 dice to use as a learning exercise, we looked at one individual side or face on each die. That single-face level felt very analogous to a single Tarot card. Each die has a name and theme. Additionally each die has an accompanying "Lord Card" that symbolizes the die's guide and guardian. Those of you who have worked with your spirit guides might get a little of that vibe as we explore the oracle dice at the name and lord card level. The dice name and lord card resonates with the suit or arcana level meanings in a Tarot reading as I see it. Today is the Alley die. We first looked at its single face, "scavenge." Now we broaden the focus to include its card, The Alleyman.At both levels, I've found a lot of overlap between the dice and Tarot cards. Seven Dane Asmund is clearly a very skilled Tarot reader and deck creator, but it doesn't feel like that is a direct influence as much as both Tarot and the oracle dice look at the same grand truisms and core human experiences.As the energy looks today, this card / die combo resonates with a blend of the Queen of Cups, the Queen of Swords and the Emperor with a sprinkle of the World card for good measure. "The Alleyman doesn't exist...He exists to be the bogeyman of your uncertainty."The Alleyman card and die challenge us to recognize our own deep competence when it comes to setting our own path.  The Queen of cups is about finding our own deep inner wisdom and knowing. The Queen of Swords teaches us to accept and own our power. The Emperor teaches us to use that inner wisdom and self-acceptance with confidence. The energy of the Alleyman Lord card resonantes with the energy of the Alleyman's Tarot deck and feels like an extension of that lore. From the moment I learned about it, I thought the Alleyman's Tarot was to Tarot readers what a Stradivarius is to violin players. This comparison draws a little bit on  intangibles like 'star power' and 'stage presence' and thus draws on the qualities of the two queens and Emperor. If a performer expect an instrument's quality to make or break their performance, they give away their power, their part in the process. A poor player can make a rare violin sound mediocre. By the same token, a player who puts their best self into the performance will touch the audience's heart with any instrument.  A master player can give a virtuoso performance on a toy instrument. Give a Stradivarius to someone like Itzhak Perlman and magic happens. Inner wisdom, power and confidence alignt with outer circumstance to make something greater than the sum of the parts. The same is true of Tarot and oracle readings.If you surrender your power to the cards or dice, the guidance is mediocre. If you surrender your part in the reading, even if the professional you consult is the best on Earth, the impact on your well being is limited. Own your part in creating your own fate and you can get an excellent reading with a pack of playing cards from the corner dollar store. The Alleyman...the right message for you...will find you one way or another.This is where the World Tarot card comes in. All is one. We are part of the greater cosmos. Just as in the Alleyman's podcast backstory those who encounter the deck and the alleyman co-create the reading and the experience. Our individual deep wisdom and knowing is as valid for ourselves and our place within the universe as anyone else's insight. More so.Relying on a stranger's advice or predictions is like relying on the instrument to make or break the performance.  Taking that advice or insight under consideration but ultimately, relying on your own wisdom is the virtuoso performance.Learning, growing, getting guidance from a metaphoric shadowy alley man when you need it - that is how you become part of this artist's collective that we call life.Thank you for reading along! I hope you will follow this blog and check out PublishingGoblin.com to learn more.See you at the next sip!via Learn With Me: Meet the Alleyman)

[storiesofwildfire]

                           MAKE YOUR MUSE AS A CAT-LOAF !!

tagged by: @dragetunge​ & @thisforgottenlore​ ( who asked for so many people, lmao ) tagging: @ofcharredbones​ @lxvingdeadgxrl​ @nottobecrossed​ @algrimthestrong​ @forsakenmyths​ @lameshsorsye​ and whoever else would like to!

Loki-loaf

Fandral-loaf

Faye-loaf

Asmund-loaf

Fenrir-loaf ( he is not happy about being catified )

[dirthara-an]

Guess, who starts xir weekend in pain! 8D I suddenly had a pulsating pain right underneath my rib cage at work, that got progressively worse during the course of the day and now my entire left side, all the way to the spine and the shoulder is hella sore. Probably managed to pinch a nerve or something. I already took a strong painkiller, but those things make me whoozy and I’ve spent the last two and a half hours repeatedly dozing off. SO I will likely slink off to bed for real soon.

I do plan on writing some replies this weekend though. So stay tuned, my lovely potatoes. Also my starter raffle is still open:

Send me 🎲 (+ your muse’s name, if you’re multimuse) and I’ll use a randomizer to pick a muse from the list below, to write you a starter with.

Available muses:

Evune ( @in-alis-luteo )

Shien (  @a-sanguine )

Shartan ( @filii-tevinter )

Vacancy ( @vnconcy )

Baron Cimetiére ( @barcncimetiere )

Michael ( @quis-deus-similis )

Azrael ( @deus-adjuvat )

Sigrid Blood-Song ( @sammoedr )

Blarg ( @blarg-the-ghast )

Asmund Carelenson ( @sammoedr )

(If you absolutely don’t want a starter with a specific muse, pls include that too)

[thetakenpokemon]

First Memory of Asmund

Surprised...oh reader mine?

Did you not expect to see this so soon?

I promised you a gift after all.

...

Asmund...

His words are true, oh reader mine. There is more to his words when he commands you to not call him a...’Pokemon’.

There is a reason...for he truly is no Pokemon.

You may have already come to the conclusion already, for the pieces are all there.

Or perhaps...you didn’t, but it matters little to me.

Before I show you the changing event, I shall reveal this to you. You may likely not be surprised of what this information is, or perhaps you will be...

Asmund...he is no Pokemon.

No...

He is a construct, a golem, not even like the ones you refer to as ‘Golurks’.

Yet...not completely a construct, for his body is powered by his soul..

His soul...is not that of a Pokemon...

...

...It is that of a Human.

Now watch...oh reader mine...

Through the veil I’ve retrieved his memories to my clutches.

So watch...witness...learn...

[À͟ ̸̕͞͠M̛̀͡E̸͝Ḿ̵̸͠O͏̸̶̕͞R̸̸͘̕Y̴̶̕ ̡̢T̵̨̢̕Ḩ̶̷R̢͡O̧͜͝Ú̧͜G̶̴̢̛͢H̛͟͟͡ ̢͢T̴̨͞H̸̶E̸̡̡͜ ̸̸́͢͏V͏̢̀E̴͝͞Ì̶̡̧̡Ļ̶́͟͞]

[Location: ?̸̡͜?̸͘͢?͠҉?͡?̸͠͠?҉҉̛̀?̴̶̡́?̸̨̨͟?̵́͡] [PoV: Asmund]

I pull my coat tighter around me as the cold winter wind blows against my face like icy needles.

I greatly dislike being out during this time of year, but I’ve got little choice...since I need to get to the next town.

With great unease I carefully eye my surroundings as I continue down the trail, my hand resting firmly on the grip of my revolver that’s sitting snugly in its holster.

That gun...I trust it with my life, since it has saved me numerous times when times got very tough for me. And right now? I feel that I need it more than ever.

In order to get to the next town, I’m forced to take a trail that crosses over the border that separates our land with that of the Pokemon’s.

We both...tend to keep to ourselves, not interfering with each other’s affairs. The main reason is because that both Humans and Pokemon here don’t really trust each other, so we have an unspoken rule to not get into each other’s business.

Although we have plenty of Ferals in our side, we don’t have any of the thinking kind. But in the end that tends to suit us just fine, since otherwise there’d be...’complications’.

Due to this unspoken rule, many times both sides tend to react rather negatively when we find each other past the border. In my case? If a Non-Feral Pokemon spots me down in their land, they’d either tell me to fuck off...or just try to kill me on sight.

Not that I blame them being rather ticked off, since I am in fact intruding right now. However I would much prefer that they wouldn’t try to kill me anyways.

But what choice do I have? In order to get to the next town, I’m forced to take the path that crosses the border. Since the other option is to trudge through a large swamp, but since it’s filled with plenty of dangerous Ferals and it’s currently the dead middle of winter...going through there is a death wish.

So I’m forced to take the lesser of the two evils, which is cross through the border. 

Which still is rather dangerous due to the unpredictability of who I might run into, thus why my gun makes me feel a bit safer.

...

Now just to clarify things, I myself don’t have too much issues with Pokemon of the Non-Feral variety. If I find one who accidentally crossed the border, I just just ask them why they’re this far in and then point them towards the right direction in a non-hostile manner. There’s no reason why one should act aggressive towards Pokemon, since they can actually kill you with a vast assortment of supernatural powers.

It’s just fucking stupid, even if you have a gun in hand.

Feeling another gust blow at me, I feel myself shiver as I try to push through the cold. Although snow has yet to fall, I can tell that it’ll be soon seeing the overcast clouds above me.

Just when I thought things were getting a little too quiet...I hear a rustling.

I quickly turn to face the noise, which is a small bush. However its lacking of leaves allows me to see that nothing is hiding behind it, so that crosses that out.

As I look around, I recall that the wind has been blowing pretty hard...so perhaps it was just the wind. I’m feeling very jumpy after all, so I’m probably just making a big deal out of something that’s not there.

With a quiet sigh I calm my nerves and continue on, not wanting to stay in one place for long.

...

Now call me paranoid, but I have every right to be.

In a place where Pokemon might not take you kindly? You gotta be ready for anything. Because I doubt they’ll react too well to my presence, since from stories I’ve heard...there are plenty of Pokemon in this land that go to the extremes when finding Humans.

“Now ain’t this a surprise?” A hissing voice suddenly speaks from behind, making my blood freeze. For the second time I turn my body to face the source of the noice, only to find...nothing.

“The hell?” I whisper, taking no risks I draw my gun. With my eyes narrowing I grit my teeth together. “Who’s there?!” I shout. “Show yourself!”

Course I doubt if they’ll actually show themselves, but...it’s always worth a try.

And much to my surprise, it did work. I see the air in front of me shimmer before a Pokemon fades into view, revealing to be a sort of...Kecleon. The big thing though that’s different about him is that he’s a little bigger, that...and he’s missing the stripe on his stomach.

“Funny to find a Human here.” He chuckles, eyeing me with his reptilian eyes. “Do you not realize that you’re not...welcome?”

I keep my gun out, but don’t aim it at the Pokemon...since I don’t want to start anything. “I’m just passing through.” I respond carefully. “I was left no choice but to cross, since I can’t go through the swamps.”

“Is that so?” He grins, his expression seeming...off.

The more I’m looking at this guy, the more uneasy I'm feeling.

“Yeah.” I respond stiffly. “Just passing through, so if you don’t mind...I’m gonna continue on and get out of your way.”

I take a step back, not even daring to turn away from him. But the Kecleon...he takes a step forward to keep the same distance. “Leave?” He says, his expression turning to a sick smirk. “Kinda funny, since I was planning to cross the border to snag us a Human. But seeing that I found you here...it makes it all the more easy for me.” His reptilian tongue flicks out. “So you won’t be leaving...”

My eyes widen at this and immediately I aim my gun at the lizard, but just before I pull the trigger I see my trusty weapon become enveloped in an unnatural light and then get yanked into the air.

“I don’t think so.” A new voice laughs, this one sounding more feminine. The air shimmers before fading, revealing a female Zoroark and a male Hypno.

The Hypno levitates the weapon over to himself, a sick smirk fixated on his lips. “Guns...” He muses, his eyes flicking between the weapon and me. “Such a...vile weapon, which is expected from your kind.” With a flash from his eyes the weapon crumbles before my eyes. “...Vile indeed...”

I feel my fists clench tightly when I see my most treasured weapon destroyed in a single moment. “Vile?” I spit, the newfound anger I’m experiencing quickly overpowering my fear. “You call those things vile? The only thing that allows us to stand a chance against you guys?”

The Zoroark snorts. “It is.” She frowns. “A weapon that kills another without giving them any chance to react, it is a very terrible thing.”

Is that fucking so? Perhaps the reason why you dislike it is because whoever that wields one of those things isn’t an easy target.

I open my mouth to retort, but the Hypno cuts me off. “Enough of this.! He grumbles, raising his pendulum. “We’re getting sidetracked.”

My eyes widen upon noticing him raising the thing, I quickly try to close them...but I see the flash before I could do so.

Immediately I feel my legs give out as my consciousness begins to fade, causing me to painfully fall to the ground.

Hearing a loud crunch and a sharp sting on my face, I can only assume that I broke my nose when I landed on my face.

Just before my mind drifts to a thoughtless haze...I hear one thing.

“Grab the Human.” The Hypno orders the others. “We got what they wanted, so lets head back to the ruins.”

[ingridthered-archive]

This is a PSA. An important one.

I’ve been roleplaying in other platforms since I was 14, and in two months, that means TEN years doing it. Writing. Creating characters, because I was never good at playing a canon character. And I know it’s not nice neither here nor ANYWHERE else being called out for a verse you have for your muse. And I’m not changing Ingrid’s modern verse because it bothers you, when there’s two other verses I’ll always be willing to plot so we get to RP.

But to clear things up, here’s more about Ingrid’s NEW modern verse:

- In MY version of the story, QEII had more than one daughter. It wasn’t just Anne, The Princess Royal. There was also another one after Anne. The Princess Alice, who was born when her mother was already The Queen. Alice married George, Earl of Stradbroke and then instantly became Countess of Stradbroke.

- The now Earl and Countess had two children: Lady Astrid Mountbatten-Windsor and Asmund, Viscount of Dunwich (who later inherited his father’s Earldom).

- Lady Astrid ended falling in love for someone really close to her family: Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark, a cousin through both her grandparents (Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip) side. An engagement was announced, a wedding happened and Lady Astrid was instantly made Crown Princess Astrid of Denmark.

- Having a difficult pregnancy, the Crown Princess remained in bed until it was time to give birth to a daughter, and that’s how Ingrid happened. The Crown Princess died right after giving birth to her child, the new Princess of Denmark.

- So Ingrid’s full title is Princess Ingrid of Denmark, Countess of Frederiksborg. HOWEVER, being the first great-granddaughter of QEII, Ingrid was also granted the title of her mother, as a sign of respect, so in the UK she is known both as Princess of Denmark and Lady Ingrid Mountbatten-Windsor, carrying her great-grandparents surname.

- Princess Ingrid is the heir to the throne, right after her father, and yes, someday she’ll be Queen of Denmark though I have ZERO plans on writing that, and the reason behind it it’s because I LOVE the real life heir to the Danish throne.

- Ingrid is a very cocky little shit, though she is very responsible when it comes to being a full time royal, representing The Queen of Denmark (her granny) and sometimes attending events in the UK like Trooping the Colour, Royal Ascot and charity events she’s involved with cousins William and Harry.

[storiesofwildfire]

THINGS   YOUR   MUSE   CAN   DO.     bold   what   applies   .    italicize   what   applies   sometimes  .

author’s note: I have done this for Loki before, so I’m going to do it for one of my side muses. In this case, Asmund!

tagged by: @lxvingdeadgxrl​ tagging: @thefateofwar​ @inadxquacy​ @algrimthestrong​ @bornofbloodandwater​ @lameshsorsye​

bake  a  cake  from  scratch ( don’t eat anything Asmund cooks... ) |  ride  a  horse |  drive  a  submarine  | speak  a  second  language |  dance |  catch  a  fish  | play  an  instrument | throw  a  punch (Asmund goes against Aesir stereotypes because he can’t fight at all ) |  build  a  deck  | ice  skate  | program  a  computer  |  change  a  flat  tire | fire  a  gun | sew  | juggle  | play  poker |  paint  |  fly  a  kite |  sculpt  | write  poetry | change  a  diaper  |  sing | shoot  a  bow  and  arrow | ride  a  bike |  swim  |  sail  a  boat | do  a  backflip | play  chess  |  give  CPR | pitch  a  tent |  flirt  | stitch  a  wound |  read  palms |  use  chopsticks |  write  in  cursive/calligraphy |  use  an  electric  drill |  braid  hair | make  a  campfire | make  a  mixed drink ( he needs them... frequently, dealing with Loki’s shit, ibr ) |  do  sudoku  puzzles  |  wrap  a  gift | give  a  good  massage | jump-start  a  car |  roll  their  tongue |  magic  tricks  | yoga  |  tie  a  tie  |  skip  a  rock  |   shuffle  a  deck  of  cards  | read  morse  code |  pick  a  lock

[storiesofwildfire]

{ @frombehindpaleeyes -- continued from (x) }

Eva had no real recollection of her attack. Whether the fact that her mind had blocked the event out was a blessing or a curse was any one’s guess. All she knew was one moment she was walking through the courtyard and the next she was excruciating pain.

The pain she felt came from a large gash that ran from her right shoulder down to her left hip. Her attacker had slashed at her a single time, believing the wound they had given her would be enough and did not stay to see her fall. Placing her hands over her stomach, Eva had tried to call for help but the pain from the wound had taken her breath away. All she could do was let out a small pained cry as she sank to the soft grass.

Believing that she was about to die, Eva closed her eyes. She was surprised when she heard voices speaking and slowly she opened her eyes. It took a moment for her gaze to focus on the man kneeling beside her. She recognized him but in her current state she could not say from where.

His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. He seemed to be reassuring her, but her brain was so muddled she could only make out a few words. “I…I do not know…” she mumbled, droplets of blood staining her lips. She closed her eyes again. “I’m very tired…”

♔—- In hindsight, he hadn’t expected the woman to be able to tell him much. The amount of blood she lost before he reached her should have killed her and, in truth, Asmund was sort of surprised that she hadn’t slipped into unconsciousness already. She was threatening it, though, hardly able to keep her eyes open as the healer sank down onto his knees beside her.

“You need to stay awake,” Asmund instructed, though his demands were very evident, his tone was gentle and reassuring in the way only a seasoned healer could be. “Try to focus on my voice. Tell me what you can. What is your name? Where were you going? Who attacked you? Anything that you remember at all.” She already insisted that she didn’t know much about the incident, which wasn’t surprising granted how the attacker looked as if they’d come in with one powerful swoop and silenced her. Had they mistaken her for dead? Is that why they rushed off without finishing the job?

Either way, Asmund had to hope and pray that the guards handled whoever her attacker was. If someone could do this much damage without a single person seeing or hearing them, they were a risk to everyone within the palace, staff and royalty alike. At least most of them were skilled warriors or sorcerers. They should be able to take care of themselves if need be, but who knew what a person like this could do? 

Or what they wanted.

Still, Asmund couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. He needed to focus. “You can rest once the bleeding has stopped and we can get you out of the courtyard, but I need you to try and stay awake,” he repeated. “Slipping into unconsciousness can very well mean the difference between life and death.” As he spoke, his hands moved, trailing over the gash that ran across her torso. Energy seeped from his palms, fusing into her to slow the flow of blood until it stopped and replenish some of the lost blood cells as he went, he could only pray that he’d gotten to her in time.

[storiesofwildfire]

"I feel lightheaded."

{ @frombehindpaleeyes } || send “Please don’t die.” to find my muse bleeding profusely or send “I feel lightheaded” for the reverse – status; accepting

♔—- For someone who never stepped foot on the battlefield, Asmund had seen more than his fair share of blood, gruesome injuries, and death. It became a daily part of his life until Loki had been charged to his medical care, becoming the primary focus of Asmund’s skills, and even after that, he still ended up patching Loki up more times than he cared to keep track of. Loki’s friends, other warriors in need, and anyone who could get to Asmund with enough time to spare would certainly opt to.

After all, he was one of the best healers Asgard had to offer and he’d gained quite the reputation over his course of life. 

In truth, it was a bittersweet thing for him. Asmund loved what he did, was so wildly passionate about caring for others whether it was an ailment, injury, pregnancy, simple checkups, or crafting new methods of healing that had never been implemented before, combining both magic and medicine into one. On the reverse side of that, it meant that regardless of how much he tried to separate himself from war--odd for a native-born Asgardian, really, as most young men aspired to be warriors themselves--he never truly could. He would always have to stare the horrors of the universe in the face while trying to protect those in his care from the living nightmares that never seemed to end.

He felt almost guilty how... desensitized he’d become to the gore of it all. He felt no less compassion and his heart hurt no less at seeing someone suffer, but the sheer brutality of it all? Hardly impacted him anymore. He didn’t even really notice...

So when he came across the woman within the palace courtyard, leaning against the broad side of a tree trunk in a pool of her own blood, he didn’t panic, didn’t scream, didn’t feel nauseated as he once might have. Alert and at her side in a minute? Of course. Fearful or horrified? No. Not anymore.

“Guards!” Asmund called as he rushed over to the woman. As Asmund knelt down beside her, two guards appeared around the corner of the exit he’d just come from. Before they had time to inquire or react to the sight of the healer kneeling in an expanding puddle of crimson, Asmund relayed an order. “Someone has breached the palace walls and attacked this woman. They may have harmed or killed others as well. Lock the palace down and ensure the royal family is safe.”

“Do you need help getting her inside?” one of the guards asked while the other immediately turned around and sprinted off to carry out the orders.

“No. I don’t want to risk moving her. I need to tend to her now,” Asmund responded. “Go and ensure whoever did this is caught. She will be safe with me.” The healer wasn’t much of a fighter, but he at least had some defensive spells in his arsenal that would keep him and his new patient alive. The guard nodded and headed off in wake of his comrade, but Asmund didn’t see it. His attention had turned to the woman.

“It’s all right. I’m going to make sure your condition doesn’t worsen, all right? I’m Asmund, one of the palace healers.” Though his name alone should have been recognizable as Loki’s personal healer. Most of the people in Gladsheim knew who Asmund was. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” he asked, though he was already well at work tending to her wounds via magic. Necessary in order to stop the bleeding and preserve her life before blood loss took over.

[storiesofwildfire]

A Quest for Peace

          { @vanirbound -- yet another long, plotted starter for the God Loki wants to lick always. ‘I licked him, so he’s mine,’ he says! }

♔—- Many, many years passed since the first time Loki realized that Asgard was not for him. While the glittering cities and prosperous protectors of the Nine Realms had a beautiful ring to their accomplishments and an equally pleasing aesthetic, what rested beneath the surface was something much, much darker. Loki tasted the first bitterness on his tongue at a relatively young age. 

The realm would never accept his magic, his unique outlook on life, his desire to break free of responsibilities so he could travel, explore, and learn, his love of staying in and studying rather than fighting amongst the other boys. Loki’s inability to conform to their norms increasingly rubbed people the wrong way, to the point that every single characteristic that defined him developed into something that could be used as a weapon against him.

Too mischievous. Too feminine. Too reliant on magic. Too emotional. Too cold when refusing to open up because he was too emotional. Too rebellious. Too observant. Too irresponsible yet trying too hard to be valuable. Too desperate for positive attention. Too weak.

Too unable to be what Asgard demanded him to be while constantly trying to be his best for Asgard.

No matter what Loki did, no matter what he sacrificed for his people, no matter how much of himself he gave, it was never enough. Not for his father, not for his peers, and not even for himself. Every time he deserved praise, he was met with criticism instead or worse, someone else took the credit for his job well done. 

Loki gave everything he had to Asgard and his people had no idea how much he sacrificed, how much he went through the ensure their safety, how much he bottled up his own feelings and fears just to keep his magic at bay so it didn’t hurt someone ridiculing him. Honestly, it hurt more than he ever let on, to put so much effort into protecting and helping his realm prosper, just to be kicked back down again for having the strength to speak up. 

The worst part, though, by far? No one actually saw it for what it was. No one acknowledged that the way the second prince was treated was inherently wrong, that they should rethink the way they saw the young royal, but why would they? Every single Aesir who misspoke or talked down to him had been given silent permission by watching the way Odin evaluated and treated his own son.

For hundreds of years, this was just a way of life for Loki, a norm that he sometimes escaped from but was inevitably trapped in. It only ever occurred to him that he could leave Asgard behind forever once when he’d fallen in love with a young and exceptional woman on Midgard by the name of Vera. An oracle who channeled Loki through herself and performed nothing short of miracles for her people, the moment he met her, he knew he’d known her for years already and fell in love far more quickly than he ever managed again. She gave him the self-awareness and the confidence to leave his old life behind, but she, ultimately, was the reason he stayed.

She said she couldn’t be the reason he abandoned his Godly position and the responsibilities that went with it, that he was far more important than one relationship with one mortal, and he kept telling himself every time he wanted to run that he had to be strong. Vera believed in him. Others followed her lead. So many people prayed to him, worshipped him, turned to him in their time of need, and if all of those people could follow after him even when he often felt so run down and defeated, surely he could stick it out?

Everything changed the night Loki conceived Sleipnir.

Relations with Vanaheim grew more and tenser. The Vanir had beaten Asgard back time and time again and Odin grew fearful of what they would do should they come back to Asgard. One of the many defenses that the council came up with was to build a protective fortress around the realm, specifically Gladsheim, the capital that housed not only the royal palace but the Bifrost as well. 

The finest builder in all of Yggdrasil had been contracted, but his price was higher than any of the Gods were willing to pay, so a scheme had been devised. The builder had to work alone and quickly. A harsh deadline gave him an impossible window to finish construction and if he did not meet it, he would have to finish the project without payment. The builder, much to everyone’s shock, agreed and much to everyone’s horror, the one asset he was allowed to have made progress go so swiftly, he projected to finish one day ahead of schedule.

A schedule in which he tightly kept.

Of course, when things grew difficult, the Aesir formed a habit of looking to Loki. His schemes and wit made him perfect for problem-solving. Even if he never received any of the praise, Loki stood as a powerful and irreplaceable asset to Asgard’s longevity and, like he’d done many times before, Loki bowed his head and agreed to sort out the problems.

The night he departed to halt the builder’s progress turned out to be one of the worst and most humiliating nights of his life. He never did share the details of what happened that night. The most anyone got was that he shape-shifted into a beautiful and enticing mare that managed to distract Svadilfari, the builder’s workhorse who moved all of his supplies for him. Without Svadilfari, the builder had no hopes of finishing his project on time. 

Loki succeeded in keeping the stallion busy, but Loki hadn’t succeeded in keeping a safe distance from Svadilfari. Even Loki underestimated how quickly such a massive horse could move--

Without going into vivid details, Loki wound up carrying and birthing an eight-legged foal. The pregnancy on its own had been traumatic physically and emotionally, the events leading up to the pregnancy had been traumatic and humiliating in ways even Loki’s silver-tongue could not adequately explain, but the worst part of the entire experience? Rather than return home and have a father who wanted to take care of his child after such a horrible event, Odin hid Loki away, isolated the prince, and kept the people of Asgard in the dark of Loki’s situation.

Loki was not allowed to let anyone know that he mothered the foal. Loki was not allowed to let anyone know that Sleipnir was more than just a horse, that he was actually a sentient being with a mind and magic of his own. Loki was not even allowed to protest Odin taking Sleipnir from him and grooming him to become a war steed.

Rather than love Loki, care for him, and help him with a situation that never would have happened had Odin not sent Loki out, to begin with, Loki faced isolation, a pregnancy that likely could have been fatal, and the shame of being told it was all his fault, all while having his child stripped from him as if Sleipnir was nothing more than an untrained pet that pissed on the carpet one too many times.

That stood out as a true turning point for Loki. Odin couldn’t understand why Loki found so much hatred and ill will in how he decided to handle the situation and Sleipnir, didn’t understand why Loki had any sort of maternal instincts in regards to an animal, and repeatedly shouldered the idea that the result had been nothing but shameful down onto Loki to carry the weight.

No love. No sympathy. No encouragement.

Gods, Odin hardly even allowed Asmund to tend to his physical state, and part of the young prince truly wondered... Would Odin have preferred if Loki did die in childbirth? Would that have alleviated something for the king? Made his life easier in some way? 

Either way, Loki accepted that Odin had no true love or respect for him and, in turn, any lingering love that he possessed for his so-called father vanished. Loki wanted Sleipnir and he wanted to leave. Whatever misfortunes led to Sleipnir’s birth, Loki loved his son, and placed no personal blame on a blameless child. 

But Loki hadn’t even fully recovered from the birth when talk of new negotiations between Asgard and Vanaheim cropped up. Strange, Loki thought, considering the whole point of the fortress was to protect them from Vanaheim... Seemed everything he went through meant nothing, as Odin still cowered in the face of the Vanir.

Loki didn’t bother himself with the negotiations or trying to keep up with what went on. He was still in the tail end of recovery, still mourning over his son being ripped from him, still kept separated from most of Asgard, and still contemplating murdering Odin himself for what he’d done to him. Time and energy to invest in keeping up with negotiations he wouldn’t even be part of wasn’t in the cards.

At least, he believed he would have no part in it.

Until Asmund, his healer, and Sigurd, Odin’s advisor, and Loki’s biggest supporter, came to see him. Asmund was a pretty normal face to see as he had been one of the few consistently allowed to be with Loki during the pregnancy. Sigurd, on the other hand, only got to see the prince when he snuck in to share a few words.

Both tried to cover up the worry etched into their solemn faces as they came to the young Godling, who sat propped up by a number of plush pillows attempting (and failing) to busy himself by reading.

Loki glanced over the top edge of his book, his lips instantly tugging south when he got a good look at them. Their worry and nervousness poured off of them, filling the air with sparks of uneasy magic. “What is it?” Loki asked, closing the book without marking his page and setting it off on the side of the mattress. 

Asmund came over immediately and sat beside the taller-yet-younger sorcerer. He took one of Loki’s hands into his soft, skilled healer hands, closing both of them around Loki’s. Loki allowed the action. Asmund stood as one of the few who could get away with touching Loki in even the tensest and uncomfortable of circumstances. There were few Loki trusted more than his healer, but the gesture filled the prince with worry.

“Has something happened to Sleipnir?” Loki asked. “Is he okay?”

“Sleipnir’s fine, for the time being, Loki,” Sigurd assured him. “I have some of my best keeping track of him to ensure Odin doesn’t do any harm.” The shadowmancer walked over to the bed and sat down as well. “We’ve come to talk to you about negotiations with Vanaheim.”

“Oh.” Loki’s tone fell flat. He didn’t care and his change of voice mixed with the dropped expression said that loud and clear, making his next statement completely redundant. “I really have no interest in that. I have more important things to worry about.”

“We know,” Asmund and Sigurd said in unison.

“But Odin has managed to come to something of an agreement on the terms of peace,” Sigurd continued. “I spoke out against this idea openly. Odin more or less told me that he understood I favored you, but he would not listen to my attempts at shielding you from something so important to Asgard.”

“W-what... do you mean...?” Loki murmured, fear creeping back into his voice again. “What do I have to do with anything of that?”

Asmund and Sigurd exchanged a glance, silently searching on another’s expressions. Asmund tilted his head towards Loki and Sigurd sighed, nodding his quiet approval. Sigurd might have been the head of a spy network and wildly intelligent, but matters of the heart were more up Asmund’s alley. 

“Odin has proposed the idea of an arranged marriage to bind Asgard and Vanaheim,” Asmund murmured. “He will be getting himself a new bride and, in return, he will be marrying off one of his sons to the Vanir chief. You, Little One. He wants you to marry Heimdall, the Chief of the Vanir, in exchange for peace.”

Loki’s heart thrashed in his chest, though if it was fear, desperation, or anger, he couldn’t really tell. “He’s going to sell me? After everything he’s done to me, everything he’s put me through, and he’s just going to turn around and throw me to our enemies?”

“I know,” Asmund murmured, lifting Loki’s hand so he could kiss the back of his palm and then another gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist, a trait common to the Vanir as a sign of showing respects to one’s magic, but Asmund was not of Vanaheim. “Many have tried to talk reason into him, but he will see none. He is convinced this is the only way.”

“I’m not old enough to get married...”

That wasn’t much of an argument, he realized. He’d just had a child, for the love of the Nine. If he could have a child, he could get married, and even without motherhood, plenty of arranged marriages rooted back far younger than Loki presently was, so even forming in childhood.

“I can’t...”

“Heimdall wants to speak with you,” Sigurd almost whispered, reaching over to take Loki’s free hand. “He said that he would agree to Odin’s terms, but only if he got to speak with you first and give you a chance to decide for yourself. While Vanaheim may be our enemies, I do not believe Heimdall to be a malicious man. He does not want to do anything without your consent and without you understanding the full perimeters of what will happen should you accept his... proposal. While this may not be ideal, he does want to make this as easy and as genuinely your own free will as possible.”

“How is it free will? Just because this Heimdall person is giving me a choice doesn’t mean I actually have one. What will happen to Asgard if I say no? What will Odin do to me if I say no?”

“I’ll admit, you--” Sigurd began, but Asmund immediately shook his head, silencing the elder sorcerer immediately. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, all right, Little One? Speak with Heimdall. Hear what he has to say. You don’t have to meet with him alone if you do not wish. You know we’ll be right by your side if you ask. Speak with him, then you can make a decision, and we’ll take it from there, okay?”

Loki lifted his eyes to Asmund, the emerald color glistening under the threat of tears. The poor, young prince was so exhausted, still desperately trying to get back on his feet, and dealing with so much emotional shit, piling something like this on top of him was enough to make even the strongest of people crack. Of course, he wanted to cry.

“If I go to Vanaheim... will you come with me?” he asked Asmund, knowing fully well that no matter how much he may wish for Sigurd to be with him, Sigurd’s role was far too important to abandon for the whims of a boy separated from his home. Asmund, though? His entire life had been dedicated to Loki’s care and growth. He would come, surely he would...

“If I am allowed to,” Asmund promised. “That will be up to Heimdall, though, I’m afraid.” Asmund dropped Loki’s hand in exchange for wrapping his arms around the mischief-maker. Loki trembled lightly in his arms, fighting so hard to keep from sobbing right then and there. Asmund squeezed him as tightly as he could, reaching up to card his fingers through Loki’s long, thick hair. “It’s all right, Loki. It’s okay. I’m right here. Shhh, I’m here.”

Sigurd watched in silence, allowing Loki to take his hand back so he could wrap his arms around Asmund, both hands fisting his shirt. The advisor’s heart broke at the sight as Loki slowly broke down in his healer’s arms, tears finally slipping down his cheeks. For several long minutes, the three sat in silence, Sigurd’s hand resting firmly on Loki’s knee while Asmund hugged him tightly. 

“Just get it out, Loki, it’s okay,” Asmund kept whispering encouragements, but Loki was honestly tired of crying, of feeling so broken, beaten down, and defeated. 

Only once the sounds of Loki’s quiet sobs calmed did Sigurd dare speak again. “I know you are upset, Loki, and I cannot blame you for that, but will you speak with Heimdall? He would like to see you as soon as possible.”

“We won’t leave you alone with him if you are uncomfortable with that,” Asmund reminded him.

Loki could only really manage a nod, but what other choice did he have but to accept the chief’s request. Sigurd gave him a melancholy smile and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the prince’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit with him then,” Sigurd murmured. “Sit tight.”

With that, Sigurd pushed himself from the bed and disappeared through the massive golden doors that led to Loki’s private chambers, off to fetch Heimdall. The Vanir chief waited patiently for him to return.

“He’s agreed to see you,” Sigurd spoke. “I do ask that you be gentle. Asmund and I have delivered the news of the workings of this arranged marriage already. He’s digesting it, but he is understandably upset. He is also recovering from a very brutal pregnancy, so hormones and paranoia are running high right now. I ask you to be mindful and to show some compassion as you speak with him. If you want him to agree to this willingly, you have to make him understand you are not going to hurt or misuse him. You have to make Vanaheim sound appealing to him and, between you and me, it shouldn’t take much. Vanaheim would be a much better place for the prince.”

Sigurd didn’t want to see Loki sold off as some sort of bride for peace, but at the same time, he had to admit, getting Loki off of Asgard and somewhere he could truly grow and prosper would be the best possible thing for Loki. 

Vanaheim could give him that.

[storiesofwildfire]

A Welcomed Distraction

          { @starkxsarcasm -- plotted starter }

♔—- Loki rarely left Crimson Peak these days. In fact, he rarely even stepped foot outside the grounds, onto the soft, mushy clay that rested beneath the home and stretched on for as far as the eye could see. He had plenty of employees at the manor, working to rebuild the home, give it a more solid foundation so it would not crumble into the mines below the house, and many others who would see to it that the restoration of Loki’s family home would go smoothly. 

Most of them came and went as they pleased, never finding themselves too wrapped up in lingering for long periods of time. Some of them even murmured about strange occurrences taking place in the house, things that they couldn’t explain and actually kind of spooked them. A few had been scared enough to quit while others brought their concerns up with Loki.

Under normal circumstances, the young man was very open with speaking with his employees one on one, hearing them out, and treating more like friends than workers. Always generous, considerate, and respectful, it was entirely unlike him to wave off the concerns of even one person who worked under him, but since his days at Allerdale Hall, he seemed less enthusiastic about interacting with them on the regular, especially when news of possible hauntings or paranormal activities reached his ears. 

He simply didn’t want to hear the rumors because, surely, they must be preposterous? Ghosts weren’t real. Places weren’t haunted and people weren’t possessed. That sort of thing just didn’t happen. 

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

For the months he lived inside the restoration project that was the Sharpe family home, strange occurrences took place more and more regularly. Loki found himself losing time, remembering people present in the home late at night that he surely never met before. Sometimes, he could swear to hear piano music playing dead in the middle of the night, only to find the piano with a thin layer of dust, proving it hadn’t been touched in the better part of a week, since the last time it’d been cleaned. 

Even the paintings left over from his deceased half-siblings seemed to come alive in the dark, as if the people depicted in those portraits could somehow crawl out of them.

And, most concerning of all, he was losing time. A lot of time that he couldn’t account for. He wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t daydreaming, nothing like that. He simply couldn’t remember those chunks of time. They started out small. 20 minutes, tops, but now? He was losing hours at a time and sometimes even days. 

In addition to their murmuring about the curse or evil that dwelled within the halls of Allerdale Hall, many of his employees also voiced their concerns for his health, as they all noticed the odd behavior and the change in demeanor. One maid even swore that Loki insisted to her that his name was Thomas for the better part of fifteen minutes, something that Loki had no real recollection of. One of those lapses in memory, he assumed. But why, in the time he was losing and couldn’t rightfully remember, would he be going by another name?

Why knowing that this home seemed to impact him and so many others in such a negative way, did he insist on stay? He wouldn’t even leave the estate, let alone make his way into town.

As time passed and the odd occurrences only seemed to grow worse, Loki feared he might be losing his grip on reality. That wasn’t something you could simply waltz out to any physician and speak to openly though, for fear of being locked away in some sort of asylum. Instead, he decided to reach out to his childhood friend and a man who had overseen his recent healthcare before he moved, Asmund. Asmund agreed to travel to his new home and stay with him so he could get a better understanding of what was happening to Loki.

The longer he stayed, the more he attempted to convince Loki that he needed to get out of the mansion more. 

Today was the first day in nearly a month that Loki actually left the estate and made his way into town. Asmund rode with him, insisting to come along so he could get a feel for any changes in Loki’s condition when he was out in public and able to socialize. They ran errands, did quite a bit of shopping, and finally settled in for lunch.

In truth, it was the most normal and relaxed Loki felt in quite a long time and the longer he lingered within the city, the less he actually wanted to go back to Crimson Peak. 

A distraction to keep him out, then, perhaps? Something that would stand in his way of returning home...

Out of the corner of his eyes, Loki caught sight of a rather eccentric looking man. His emerald gaze lingered on the stranger for a while, in a way that almost entranced him. What was it about the man? Oh, it definitely could have been his good looks. While socially unacceptable, Loki never did shy away from his interest in members of the same sex, especially behind closed doors... But the initial interest, for some reason, seemed to go further than that.

Asmund sat across the table from him, chatting away, until he noticed Loki’s gaze transfixed on something else. The doctor followed the younger man’s eyes to the handsome stranger and he couldn’t help but roll them when he realized what Loki was staring off at.

“Seems some things never change, even when you’re on the verge of a nervous break,” Asmund murmured. Loki didn’t respond, likely didn’t even hear him. “Loki, hey, you may wish to conceal your awe before someone notices.”

“Hmm? the young baronet finally murmured, blinking, and looking back towards Asmund. A light blush filled his cheeks and for a moment, he refused to make eye contact.

“Did you just lose time or were you just sizing up a possible bedmate?” Asmund asked, though his tone was low so no one would overhear them. While Asmund was perfectly accepting of Loki’s less than socially acceptable habits, most others wouldn’t tolerate such a thing and the doctor definitely didn’t want to get his friend in trouble. 

Plus, he needed to know if Loki was having an episode or if he was just drooling over some attractive individual off in the distance.

“No,” Loki replied in a hushed-yet-hurried tone. “I wasn’t losing time. I was right here, I just--” The tint of red that spread across his cheeks darkened several shades. “Sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Asmund murmured, amusement in his expression. “Lingering on physical attraction to another person is actually a very good sign that getting out of your home is having a positive influence on your mental state. When was the last time you thought about sex anyway?” Loki nearly choked on his tea. Asmund gave him a patient smile. “Well?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, setting his tea back down before Asmund made him spill the damned cup. “It’s been a while, I suppose? Does that really matter?”

“It matters a lot, actually, especially given how active you were before you purchased this new estate. Losing interest in such things tells a lot more than you might thing.”

Asmund certainly seemed determined to keep Loki red in the face. “All right... Then why would that suddenly come back to me now?”

“I suspect the high-stress level in which you live is wearing on you, honestly,” Asmund answered. “You live in the middle of a construction zone while you attempt to restore a dilapidated mansion that’s slowly sinking into the ground. Your employees and builders are stressed, which is making you even more so. You can’t escape this massive project you’ve taken on because you live in it, and you’re so far away from your friends and family, your support system has been more or less cut off. That sort of stress can do horrifying things to the brain. Taking a few steps away from such a stressful environment gives you time to think and breathe and focus on things that aren’t stressing you out.” The doctor offered the baronet a teasing grin. “Like a handsome stranger, for instance.”

“Oh, shove off, Asmund...”

[storiesofwildfire]

new side muse tags

( side muse ) fenrir ( side muse ) hel ( side muse ) jormungandr ( side muse ) sleipnir ( side muse ) saga ( side muse ) hallbjorn ( side muse ) ylva ( side muse ) agnar  ( side muse ) ragna ( side muse ) ulla ( side muse ) asmund ( side muse ) alvida ( side muse ) dahlia ( side muse ) egil ( side muse ) fandral ( side muse ) frodi ( side muse ) gael ( side muse ) inge ( side muse ) inka  ( side muse ) kjartan ( side muse ) lawrence ( side muse ) sebastian ( side muse ) sigurd ( side muse ) sindri ( side muse ) valencia ( side muse ) vera

[storiesofwildfire]

“Why the fuck did he/she/they have to go and die?” (Maisie to Asmund)

{ @forsakenmyths } || random asks – status; always accepting

♔—- The physician looked down at the body before him, lifting a hand one last time to check for a pulse, but there was nothing. There weren’t many injuries or ailments that Asmund could not cure or treat. He saved so many lives over the course of two thousand years and he never once took one of his own, but every life he couldn’t save felt like another kick to the gut, like something that he could have prevented.

A failure.

His fault.

He knew that wasn’t how he should be. Asmund dedicated his life to caring for people and the good that he did for countless individuals, families, and communities was undeniable, but a thousand lives saved never made the loss of one any easier. He always took them hard, always took them personally, even if he didn’t actually know who they were. 

No personal connection existed with this person, but he tried to save them anyway, but he’d been too late. Even with all of his knowledge, tricks, and healing magic, there were some things Asmund simply could not do. He made bringing the dying back from the brink look easy, but saving someone who was already gone? Asmund was a healer, not a necromancer, and bringing people back from the grave?

Well, he’d never tried, but he never intended to. Building a bridge between the Dead and the Living was never in his cards, nor would he feel right impeeding on the territory of someone he considered family. Disrespecting Loki’s daughter in such a fashion? Even if he could, he never would.

In moments like this, though? Moments of great distraught when all he could do was feel for a pulse, solemnly shake his head, and closed the eyes of the deceased? Those were moments when the temptation was strongest, especially when expecting and demanding eyes fell on him to save a loved one.

“I am so sorry,” Asmund murmured, looking up at the woman. “I will have to do further examination to determine a cause of death, but there is nothing I can do. You were close, I take it?” He stood, using a little wave of his hand to conjure a sheet to cover the body with swiftly. Another blanket, thicker and softer, appeared in his hands and he unfolded it as he approached the woman, offering it to her. “It’ll help with the shock. Let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?”

[storiesofwildfire]

WHAT IS YOUR TRAGIC FLAW? 

Author’s Note: Because I’ve done this for Loki before, I’m going to do this for one of my secondary muses, in this case, Asmund

tagged by: @masterofthepastandpresent tagging: @dominionovershadows @ofcharredbones @nottobecrossed @imsureyouare @lxvingdeadgxrl @ladysifwarriorborn @eirgoddessofdarkness @inadxquacy @bornofbloodandwater and whoever else wants to do this

You Got: Impulsiveness

You don't think before you act, or get mad, or even speak. Before the notion has finished forming itself in your brain, you rush to make it real, and every nanosecond that it takes is agony. Good meals take time. Successful careers take years of hard work. The things most worth having require patience. You need to work on your long game. So relax and take it slow for once.

[storiesofwildfire]

Post 8 Facts About Your Muse. Then Tag 8 People to Do the Same.

The first person Loki developed romantic feelings for after his wife, Sigyn, died was Fandral and he felt horribly guilty about it for a long time because he felt like he shouldn’t have developed those feelings at all after his loss.

Loki’s actually very good at channeling and redirecting lightning. He needed to get good at it because Thor kept zapping him when he lost control of his temper.

As a child, Loki formed a kid-crush on Asmund’s elder brother, Gael. To this day, Asmund and Gael have never let him live it down.

When Loki draws (which is something he loves, btw), he rarely uses pencils. He almost always chooses ink first. If he makes a really drastic mistake, he’ll just remove the ink with a bit of magic.

Following up that last headcanon, if he makes a massive mistake in his art, he’ll usually try to find a way to incorporate it into the piece instead of removing it. He thinks that gives it more character and more meaning, by creating beauty out of an error or what was originally viewed as a mistake.

Loki likes fidget toys like fidget spinners and fidget cubes. They help him keep his hands busy during times of anxiousness. He does not care if people think they’re stupid or not.

Sometimes Loki shape-shifts into a cat and roams the palace so he can eavesdrop on people without them knowing it. It comes with the bonus of being petted and fawned over because he is a beautiful feline.

Loki spends the anniversary of his mother’s death alone. He doesn’t get close to anyone on that day and he usually spends most of the day mourning her and holding one-sided conversations with her. That’s the day where he apologized about 1,500 times for being so careless. He still feels horribly guilty about her death.

Tagged by: @drorah-walks Tagging: whoever wants to do this? I already did this meme once, so I don’t want to retag people. So if you see this and you wanna do it, have at it!

[storiesofwildfire]

In Desperate Need

          { @purosdecorazon }

♔—- This was absolutely Loki’s worst nightmare. After spending gods only knew how long with Thanos before his arrival on Midgard with the Mind Gem that was cleverly hidden inside the scepter given to him by the Other, the last thing Loki ever wanted to do was come face-to-face with the Mad Titan again. Some of the pain and torture that Thanos inflicted on Loki was still fresh in his mind, a festering sore that would never go away, and yet, there were so many darker parts of his time with Thanos, memories that were so horrifying, his mind repressed them before they could do any serious damage.

     So, when the survivors of Ragnarok found themselves in the shadow of Thanos’ massive ship--a ship so large, it almost seemed like a migrating planet--Loki thought the worst. He thought that his whole life and all of the progress he made since escaping the Titan would be for not. 

     Oh, Thanos wouldn’t kill him. No, that was far too kind, but Thanos would torture him and the people that he held dear. Maybe Thanos would pick through the Ragnarok survivors one by one, searching for the ones that Loki was closest to? Maybe he’d hold Loki down and force him to watch as he slaughtered his friends and family? Maybe he’d endure all of their pain so they didn’t have to?

     Whichever way one decided to look at it, Thanos would ensure that Loki suffered for the rest of eternity.

     But, Loki did have a few advantages hidden up his sleeve. He’s been aboard Thanos’ ship before. Navigating it wasn’t easy by any means and he certainly didn’t understand the makeup of most of it, but getting around wasn’t impossible. He also had the Tesseract hidden away, able to be summoned whenever he needed it.

     In the end, Loki could only manage to get a few people out of the ship with him. His personal healer, Asmund, and Asmund’s brother, Gael. Fandral, and a few other sorcerers and warriors who were within reach. Loki wanted to liberate them all, but he didn’t have the time. If he attempted to get everyone out in one go, any escape would surely fail. That ran the risk of Thanos getting ahold of the Tesseract, the only real key they had to breaking free.

     With Asgard destroyed and most of the population gone, however, Loki wasn’t really sure where to turn. He considered going to Helheim and asking his daughter, Hel, the Queen of Helheim, for assistance, but he was unwilling to pull his daughter into such a thing. He was unwilling to risk her safety.

     So, who did that leave that could really help? Not a single person in all of Yggdrasil came to mind because no one was as powerful as Thanos. At least, not to Loki’s knowledge.

     In the end, he ended up taking his small party of warriors and sorcerers to Midgard. Thanos would, no doubt, be on his way to the realm. Several Infinity Stones existed on the surface of Midgard and if Thanos wanted them all, it would be an integral part of his plan to come to Midgard and, no doubt, destroy it on the way. The very least Loki could do was warn them and, perhaps, get help from the only group of people who managed to stop him when Thanos sent him to Midgard several years earlier.

     “So... where to, Loki?” Asmund asked and although the healer was several inches shorter than Loki, he came to the God’s side and wrapped a protective arm around him. Not a single soul knew Loki better than Asmund did and he could see that the fallen king was shaking to his very core.

     “We need to find help,” Loki answered, leaning into Asmund’s hold without a moment of hesitation. He didn’t care that there were other people there that could see the display.

     “Thor’s friends, then?” Fandral asked, a brow cocked. “Going to them may not prove to be fruitful, considering your history with them, Loki.” Although his words were somewhat harsh, his tone was gentle to show that his intent was not to hurt Loki, but to remind him of what could come should they actually pursue the Avengers.

     “I know, but I think they’ll listen if they know Thor is in danger and if we give them information on what’s coming. One person in particular... The Captain.” Most of the members of his group gave him questioning glances.

     “The Captain?” Gael asked.

     “Steve Rogers. He was... sort of like the team’s leader, I guess, but he was also the most compassionate and understanding. He’ll listen. He and Thor are very close and I’m sure he’ll help us, if he can. We just have to find him.”

[storiesofwildfire]

Out of all of your muses and all of the other people you know.... who... bleps?!?!

{ outofmagic }

Bleps? As in that thing that pets do where they stick their tongue out and just leave it pressed between their lips for extended periods of time?

Um, honestly, Loki actually does this. He’s the most feline-like of all my muses and if someone says something that just really throws him through a loop (so much so that he can’t immediately make his brain digest and understand what was said) or he’s just genuinely stunned by something, he’ll stick his tongue out and leave the tip sitting between his lips while he contemplates what just happened.

He’s not entirely aware that he does this, but if someone points it out to him, he will most certainly deny it.

As far as some of my other muses that might do it? Asmund certainly does, though he’s fully aware of it and doesn’t really care if people think it’s embarrassing, cute, or something else. Loki’s Jotun siblings run a high risk of doing it too. Ulla, Ragna, and Agnar, though Ulla probably does it the most. Saga might also do this from time to time.

Oh, and Jörmungandr and Fenrir both do this a lot because, you know, giant ass snake and giant ass wolf.