#Odins towner

[leanderqueenie]

My town had the second biggest tower in europe built in the 30s and I just found out it had a restaurant.

Those small boxes in the middle? That's a restaurant. And what's that box at the top? A bar.

[see-arcane]

Avengers #4 OR Jason Aaron and the Case of the Dueling Lokis

Long spoilers short for the latest Avengers

-evil space bugs

-big scary goth Celestials

-Odin flashback, battle battle, all is lost, did I mention I totally banged the Phoenix, trufacts

-bad times, sad times

-monologues

-Avengers doing avengeful stuff, etc

-and...Loki. Oh, Loki.

I’ve kind of circled past aggravation and hit a wall of pure confusion. It’s a confusion that gives me a very, very, very small, nigh microscopic iota of hope, but confusion nonetheless. That confusion comes from the fact that Jason Aaron is currently writing two series with Loki as part of the main cast. Specifically, Loki as played by Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Aaron is currently in charge of Thor and Avengers, the first with Loki as the impish tag along slash wild card to Thor. The other with Loki as the ominous and increasingly Siege-flavored mouthpiece for the Dark Celestials and a warped version of the Humans are a Plague, Very Terribad, Salt the Earth spiel--which, if we remember Loki’s bit of prologue back in Legacy #1, is likely (hopefully) all a very roundabout way of conning the Dark Celestials into opening the door to some kind of power source. 

Point being: Jason Aaron is writing two series simultaneously (time being the utter clusterfuck it always is in comics) featuring two extremely opposite Lokis. 

Here’s the Loki we just saw in Thor #2:

Versus what we see with the Avengers:

This guy is being penned by the same writer. Neither of them seem particularly in line with the more roguish God of Stories we’ve seen fleeting glimpses of with Ryan North and Donny Cates and--horrendous art aside--with the Vote Loki iteration given to us by Christoper Hastings...but the fact that these Lokis are both coming from Aaron means that they must ultimately share the same goal (as dictated by Aaron’s admittedly cockeyed view of the character).

What I’m sure will happen is that Loki, in both series, will suffer some kind of asskicking, but ultimately slip away with some ulterior motive successfully paid off. A power source, another segue into the Infinity War hullabaloo, whatever. Playing the parts he needs to play as hero/villain/anti-villain to steer the narrative towards his needs.

What I would really, really like to happen--and thus it won’t--is to have Loki pull a Multiple Man gambit. You know, this guy:

In his own comics he once tried to live up to his name and live as multiple men having their own separate lives, absorbing more experience and intel than he could alone. It backfired because all of his copies wound up getting attached to said lives and had no desire to fuse back together into one dude and leave everything behind. It was a mess. 

You know who has canonically pulled off several successful schemes, consciously and subconsciously, always with self-destruction and evolution at the root, with every single incarnation???

These guys:

I won’t hold my breath waiting for it to happen. At best Aaron will pen it so that his version of Loki is playing any side and role necessary to reach some Huge and Ominous Power Boost for Reasons. 

But for the sake of this god, the one stitched together by Gillen and Ewing with so much love, I’ll imagine there is more than one of them at work. Some out in space, some dangling from the World Tree’s branches, some playing herald to out-of-towner horrors, some in the city capering with Squirrel Girl or splitting a red bottle with their best friend. 

And at least one, alone. Sitting in a vast white space with a number of comics spread in front of them. Watching and orchestrating the faraway selves he made to tilt the stories as required.

Waiting.

[giltandgreen]

Or, in which a jolly, white-haired bearded man who gives toys to children has a striking resemblance to a certain Allfather-ly Asgardian

Before she closed up her lab for the holiday season, Jane needed to complete one last major experiment. Bruce and Sigyn had agreed to help her and Darcy with the project and Natasha had signed on as muscle if need be. However, the last thing Jane really needed were Thor and Loki poking around in the lab while she was working. As much as Jane loved Thor, his idea of “helping” usually ended up in things getting broken and she often found herself distracted by him walking around the lab in his tight Asgardian leather pants. Loki, by the opposite token, was always keen to point out when he thought one of Jane’s experiments was going sideways or if he thought calibrations on a piece of equipment were off. When he wasn’t critiquing Jane’s methodology, he was usually attempting to convince Sigyn to join him in one of the supply closets for a semi-public conjugal rendezvous. If Jane had to ban a third person from her lab, it would probably be Clint who occasionally popped out of the ceiling vents at inopportune moments, lured in by the smell of freshly made coffee.

So, to keep the peace and prevent any lab-related shenanigans, Steve had kindly agreed to fall on a more metaphorical grenade by taking Clint, Loki and Thor out for the day. The problem was finding something that would entertain his three friends. Clint and Thor had notoriously short attention spans while Loki was notoriously finicky about what he paid attention to in the first place. A shuddering fear came over Steve like it did all hardened New Yorkers who realized they were going to have to entertain out-of-towners in the city. He was going to have to take the Asgardians to the usual tourist traps. In the back of his head, Steve could hear the laughter of everyone in his old neighborhood. After all, if there was a terrible time to have to show someone around the city it was during the holidays.

[thorkidumpster]

soooooooooo @raven-brings-light mentioned she liked fake relationship au! so i got excited and wanted to show you what i’m working on :D it’s your basic ‘thor lies to his parents about having a relationship to get out of family stuff and now it’s biting him in the ass’. it’s... gotten so long and still not even a quarter done. rip. nothing fancy, but here we gooooo

“Birthday party?” Loki scoffs, not even bothering to lower his voice in the crowded coffee shop. “Why would I want to go celebrate another year of that mouth-breathing, jackass jock who has a constant case of public indecency?”

“Because you jerk it to him every night,” Amora points out. “And follow him everywhere. And you like his tight shirts. Mm... I like those tight shirts.”

“You're gross,” he informs her, despite the frustrating fact she is completely correct. Loki maybe—sometimes—occasionally trailed Thor to the quad. Or the track. Or the gym...

Especially the gym. There is nothing like a good hate work out, staring as Thor lifted weights until his stupidly perfect muscles glisten with sweat that Loki kind of wanted to lick. Just a little. Right down to that abnormal sized bulge that had to be a sock stuffed into his shorts because there was just no way—

Amora stirs her drink. “Earth to Loki.”

“I wasn't thinking about Thor,” Loki says automatically.

“Of course you weren't.” She gives him an annoyingly smug smirk. “So. Party? Probably going to be a rager.”

Loki taps his fingers on the table. “And watch him fuck the entire volleyball team? No, thank you.”

Amora just smiles.

[read more cut here, mobile users]

– – –

Loki went.

No surprises there when his batshit crazy best friend from hell showed up at his dorm, kicked out his roommate, and cast some sort of spell to get him dressed. And by “spell”, Loki means, “screamed like a fucking banshee about letting opportunity slip from his fingers”.

So really, he put on his clothes out of self preservation.

And because she threatened to lock him outside in his boxers.

Pay back is going to be a bitch.

Loki pulls up outside Thor's house an hour after the party started—best time to arrive, when everyone's well on their way to drunk and the awkward introductions are out of the way. Late enough that the birthday boy's going to have his eyes on some pussy, early enough that he hasn't gotten into it yet.

But Loki doesn't get out of his car immediately. The driveway's fairly empty, with only two (now three) cars slotted into the four car space. The lights are on, but not strobing and not in every room. And most damning of all—the house was quiet. No music, no shouting, no one throwing up on the lawn.

Huh.

He knows he has the right address; not because he's creepy and certainly not because he might've—probably—maybe followed Thor home once by accident.

Anyway.

Clearly, Amora had gotten bad information.

Loki jabs his keys back into the ignition, but before he can crank up the engine, the front door opens and a nicely dressed woman steps out. “Excuse me!” she calls and Loki's heart stops. Great. Just fucking great. He's going to get reamed for pulling up to Mrs. Rich Lady's driveway. Excuses pop up, and in a split second, he settles on acting like a stupid out-of-towner. Oh, where's the Walmart? Har har har...

Goddammit.

The woman is breathless by the time she toddles down the insanely long walk up, not to even mention her heels, Jesus. What is it with old women and heels?

“Excuse me!” She says again and Loki obediently rolls down the window.

“I'm sorry, I—”

“Please don't be shy,” the woman laughs. “Come on out, I know who you are.”

When he freezes, she gives him a 'disappointed mom' look. Her eyes are astoundingly blue, clear and bright despite the fine wrinkles cradling them. Like a bolt, Loki realizes this is Thor's mother, which, really, it should have been obvious but Loki blames Amora for not recognizing her. Not that it's Amora's fault, per se, but Loki just likes kicking shit over to her.

Wincing, Loki steps out of his car. “You do?” he hedges, sure he's going to get a lecture in stalking. Possibly a lawsuit. Wouldn't be the first time—

Any-fucking-way.

“Of course! You're Thor's little boyfriend, aren't you? He keeps bringing you up—every time he wants to get out of something, don't think I haven't noticed date nights cropping up conveniently over family dinners.”

“Um.” Loki falters. “...sorry?”

“I'm Frigga,” she says, matter of fact. “Not that I know your name, mind. Thor was very insistent. He seems to be laboring under the impression that I would contact my old team to do a background check on you.” Frigga pauses, then smiles blindingly. “He's right, of course. So. Name, please.”

Loki's mouth falls open. His name tumbles out before he can think to give her another, like Luke or Lucas, and really, that is a betrayal of the highest order. His dad once said that he should sew up his mouth to keep it from getting him into trouble and right now, Loki's apt to agree.

“Loki... Lafton? Hm.” Frigga gives him a considering look. “Well, come on in, dear. You're a little late, of course, but I kept the boys out of the food until you arrived. It's only polite...”

Stupefied, Loki follows her up the walk way to the massive house. The lawn is manicured to the point of being anal, and there are strategically placed flowering bushes along the outside walls in even rows. It's... weird. Loki thinks back to his family manor and shudders.

Well, at least if he manages to fuck this up, his dad could get him out of the hot water. What good was having a lawyer for a father if he couldn't?

At the very least, he's got an evening of free food and acting ahead of him. Loki slips into the role of 'dutiful son' like a worn pair of jeans.

The foyer is gorgeous, of course, and tastefully decorated; his own mother would be seething in jealousy, no doubt—ah, no, there's a scuff mark on the floor moulding. That little imperfection would have Farbauti crowing for days.

And everyone's so surprised when they find out how much of a bitch Loki can be. Really.

“Thor!” Frigga calls as they enter the sitting room. “Your boyfriend is here!”

It's beautiful. Truly. All the stars and sunrises and baby-fucking-animals couldn't compare to the look of horror on Thor's perfect face. “My what?”

“Loki, go on and sit down, I'll get the dinner served.”

Thor stares at Loki, mouth open. “Loki?”

Loki gives him a sugary smile. “Of course, sweetheart. Wow, that smells amazing, ma'am.” Smooth as a snake, Loki slides onto the couch next the Thor, making sure their thighs are pressed together, despite there being a good meter of space left to stretch out.

Thor can't seem to figure out how to work his mouth—words are beyond him, but, Loki notes with pleasure, his eyes are certainly taking in their fill. Thank god Loki had decided to 'dress up' for the jockstrap party, as a way of standing out and pissing everyone off.

With a wink, Loki rolls up the sleeves to his tidy blazer. He turns his attention to the gruff man across from them, glaring at Loki with a single, mistrustful eye. “And you must be his father.” Loki offers a hand.

The man grabs it, squeezes hard in a dominance display, but Loki just returns it until Thor's father pulls back. “Odin,” the man says. “And yes. Who are you again?”

Loki is about to give a lazy reply when Thor's brain reboots and he kicks online. “Loki,” Thor interjects. “My boyfriend. We met at school.”

“Hmph.” Odin looks about as happy at that as someone that was told they needed to clean out a pipe clogged with shit barehanded. “And what does he study?” he demands.

Demands to Thor, of course, when he could've easily directed the question to Loki. Idly, Loki wonders if the old man is upset at Thor for dating boys, or if it's something about him in particular that's rising the hackles.

“Not law, like his father, clearly,” Odin continues.

Loki's brows shoot up; Thor just looks away... embarrassed?

Odin is clearly riling himself up to say more when Frigga clatters in. “Boys! Dinner!” she calls, merry as a bluebird. Odin hefts himself out of his armchair, a once fit man gone very much to seed. But just as Loki starts to rise, Thor snatches him by the elbow and stands, too.

Thor, so close, looms in a way that makes Loki's gay little heart flutter. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses. In the dining room, Frigga is chattering to Odin about the food and his heart.

Loki leans in close, close enough to feel Thor's breath on his lips. Thor jerks, but doesn't move away—which is good; it'll just look like they're sharing a private moment if Frigga pops back in. Which they are, in a way.

Just not the way she'll think.

“Believe it or not,” Loki says silkily, “I was every bit surprised by this as you were. I was lead to believe there would be a party here; your mom cornered me before I could pull out of the drive.”

From this angle, Loki can't see Thor's face, but he can tell Thor's trying to modulate his breathing, fist getting tight on his elbow. Getting upset, is he? Cute.

“Of course,” Loki continues. “I could leave now. No... I could stage a fight. Would you like that, big boy?” Their lips are centimeters apart. Christ—his dick is pounding, his blood thrums in his veins, and Loki is living.

“No,” Thor grunts. He's so fucking big; that grip is really starting to hurt in the best of ways. “We'll figure this out later. For now, you'll stay. You'll play nice.”

“That costs extra.”

There's the sharp crack of Frigga's heels, then Thor's kissing him, searing, as if to force the promise from Loki's lips. “Boys—oh!”

Thor steps back, giving Loki a predatory smirk that leaves him a little weak in the knees. Or maybe that was the porno kiss. Or both. “Sorry, mom.”

“Now, now,” she chides. “It's time for dinner. Come along now, you two.”

If Thor has to actually support Loki with a hand on his lower back, pressing to get him to move, it's not Loki's fault. It's Thor's. Fuck him.

[odinshallsbjj-blog]

Great day today at Odins Halls! My brother Professor @gokorm.m.a and @madmikearrant from @freestylemmalv came by to roll with us for the day, as well as some badass out of towners. Everybody put in work! 👊 #bjj #bestinvegas #3%bettereveryday (at Centennial Hills, Las Vegas) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxqcJ2Zh5ik/?igshid=us31ve5zd7t8

[penniesforthestorm]

Castle Rock, Part 3

“Can’t We Just Say It Never Happened?”

  Episode 8: “Past Perfect”

Episode 9: “Henry Deaver”

  And we’re back, sifting through another layer of mysteries in Castle Rock, as the season draws to a close. Episode 8 takes us a few steps before the events of “Filter” and “The Queen”, to focus on a couple of out-of-towners we met in “The Box”: a history professor named Gordon, and his wife, who seemed extremely keen to settle down in Castle Rock. This episode opens with Gordon attacking a student for having slept with Gordon’s wife. Then it shows the less-than-happy couple settling into the now-vacant Lacy house. A sign goes out front: ‘Castle Rock Historic Bed and Breakfast’.

They set up some décor: a bowl of fruit, a rooster… a plastic mannequin? Back in Episode 4, Gordon asked a bemused Molly Strand if Warden Lacy’s art could be purchased along with the house. In the current episode, Gordon’s wife goes down to the basement and finds an entire trove of paintings, dedicated to one subject: The Kid, in his cell at Shawshank. So, naturally, she distributes them throughout the house. In due course, some guests arrive: a man and a woman on an illicit tryst. Gordon’s wife, Lilith, proudly tells this bemused pair about the bed-and-breakfast’s unique appeal: it’s decked out with recreations of some Castle Rock’s more gruesome incidents. Later that night, the experience gets even more ‘immersive’: awakened by the couple’s amorous adventures, Gordon goes upstairs and attacks them with a knife, killing them both. Now we’re up to speed—the next scene shows Molly in her kitchen, experiencing visions of Henry locked in Odin’s trailer. She drives to the woods, haunted by flashes of Henry as a child, and of herself, as an adult, lying dead on the forest floor. She finds Henry, and we see a shot of Odin Branch dead in the bushes. On the drive back to the Deaver house, as the sun is rising, Henry tells Molly about the visions, and apologizes for not believing her. Then Henry goes up to his house, finding it eerily silent. He checks on Ruth, who is safely asleep in her bed. Downstairs, he finds The Kid, and questions him. Wendell returns, and Henry orders him to go upstairs and lock the door. The Kid leads Henry out to the shed, where he has placed Alan’s body. He tells a shocked Henry about Ruth’s mistake, and Henry asks him, once again, who he is. The Kid comes out with the clearest answer he’s given so far: “I waited for you for 27 years, and I didn’t ask for any of this!” Wendell has called the police, and as the sirens approach, The Kid flees into the woods. Meanwhile, Gordon and Lilith (sporting snazzy matching tracksuits) are cleaning up their own mess when another visitor arrives: Jackie Torrance. Jackie cheerfully informs her reluctant hosts that she had the same idea: “Turn Castle Rock into a murder theme park.” She even corrects Gordon on a historical inaccuracy: the dummy in the living room is meant to represent a man who was murdered in 1929, but Gordon has stuck the wrong kind of ax in his head. The couple nudges her out the door, and she takes her leave, but not before her gaze falls on the black garbage bags in the back of Gordon’s truck, and a blood-covered silver bracelet on the ground. At the Deaver house, Ruth speaks to Henry—she’s convinced that it’s Matthew she shot, not Alan. Henry speaks to a police officer, who references Henry’s old nickname: “The Black Death”. Henry puts Wendell on the bus back to Boston, but before the bus departs, a crow falls out of the sky onto the windshield. Wendell hears the sound—the Schisma—and clamps his hands over his ears in pain. Henry drives out to the Lacy house, hunting for anything resembling a clue, and he finds it: a bedroom covered wall-to-wall with Lacy’s portraits of The Kid. They date back years, but The Kid always looks the same. And then Henry sees a painting of The Kid wearing the same striped sweater that Henry wore on his Missing Person poster, dated 1991. So The Kid, it seems, has not been a kid in a very long time. We’re digesting this realization when Gordon and Lilith appear, none too pleased at another intruder. They attack Henry, but it’s completely incompetent—Lilith ends up stabbing herself in the neck, and Gordon chases Henry all the way down to his car, where he is dispatched by the irrepressible Jackie Torrance, wielding the tell-tale ax. She claims she sensed something fishy. Molly, too, is troubled, and the pills aren’t helping. She tries to call Henry, and when he doesn’t answer, drives up toward the Deaver house. She sees lights on at her parents’ place, and goes to check it out. The Kid is sitting inside. He greets her calmly, and takes her upstairs, describing Molly’s own childhood to her. She asks how he knows all of this, and he answers, softly, “Because I was there.” He points out the window. “Out there in the woods—that’s where you died.”

Episode 9, “Henry Deaver”, begins with the voice of Matthew Deaver, decrying Castle Rock’s evil history. He narrates an episode from his own past: his mother tried to strangle him in his cradle, but he survived, and decided to dedicate his life to God. He uses a phrase Warden Lacy used, “Let me stand athwart the door.” We see him in his basement, building a cage. Then, sirens. A slim young man, running along a bridge. He stops, and the sirens pass—he’s not their target. The camera pulls back to a city skyline, as the young man checks his watch, and continues his jog. A cut: our young man is adjusting his sharp suit in the mirror. His long dark hair is carefully combed back from his high, pale forehead. See him, now, in a conference room, giving a presentation on Alzheimer’s disease, with help from his tabby cat, Puck. See him walking through the park with a woman, who teases him gently about his optimism. His phone rings, and it’s a voice we know: Alan Pangborn. “Your mom’s fine. It’s about your dad.” We know the young man, too, or at least we think we do. It’s The Kid—prisoner, prophet, ghost? He of the halting voice and shadowy presence, now utterly changed in front of our eyes. He arrives back in Castle Rock, but it’s changed, too—the downtown is quaintly decorated, and the streets are buzzing with cheerful crowds. He walks up to the Deaver house, finding it an utter mess: envelopes piled on the doorstep, dishes left to rot in the sink. He sits down in the armchair, and has a flash of memory: Matthew Deaver in church, his voice tolling that verse from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. He walks outside, and finds the Strand sisters: Bridget, who doesn’t recognize him, and Molly, who does. She gives him a name, the same name we saw him whisper at Shawshank: “Henry Deaver?” Molly is different, too—at the bustling ‘gastropub’, all the locals know her, and she proudly informs The Kid (I’m going to keep calling him that for purposes of clarity) that she’s chair of the town council. In turn, he tells her that Ruth and Alan are living happily in Sarasota—Alan persuaded her to leave Matthew, and followed her and The Kid to Boston. Molly and The Kid embrace before The Kid heads back up to the house. He goes inside, all the while talking to his partner on the phone—they’re trying to conceive a baby. The electricity cuts out, and The Kid goes down to the basement, hunting for the breaker box. He restores the lights, turns around, and finds… A wire cage, with a boy in it. We know this boy, too. In the very first episode, it was him that we saw running across the frozen lake into the arms of the younger Alan Pangborn. This is ‘our’ Henry Deaver: twelve years old, silent and terrified. The police arrive, including a kindly young officer named Dennis Zalewski. (It’s unexpectedly bittersweet to see Noel Fisher again.) The Kid and Molly watch as young Henry is taken into custody. The Kid finds boxes of audiotapes in the old garden shed, and plays them for Molly. It’s Matthew Deaver, ruminating on the past. Matthew describes how this young boy came running out of the woods, calling him ‘Dad’, saying that he really heard it this time, none of ‘his’ mother’s trickery. The Kid, in disbelief, tells Molly how Matthew used to drag him out to the woods, and how Ruth asked him to play along. Matthew, on the tapes, says that he knew the truth: this mysterious boy, who called himself by Matthew’s son’s name, who knew how Matthew liked his eggs, this boy was the Devil. So Matthew locked him in a cage, for twenty-seven years, in order to restore peace to Castle Rock. Molly and The Kid go to the police station, where the caged boy is being held after starting a fire up at Juniper Hill hospital. When the three of them are finally alone in a room together, the boy insists that his name is Henry Deaver, and that they have to take him to the woods. Molly gets the boy released into her custody, and she and The Kid drive off with him, tailed by Dennis. The three run into the woods, and Molly begins to receive visions from the boy—a young girl in 17th-Century attire, covered in blood, and a flock of ravens overhead. Officer Zalewski fires a warning shot, but accidentally hits Molly. Then she vanishes, and The Kid is sitting alone, in daylight, in the snow. He runs through the trees, out onto the bluff above Castle Lake. Below, Alan Pangborn stands on the shore, as the young boy, young Henry Deaver, runs toward him. Then we’re back in the present—or at least the one we’ve been in. Molly and The Kid are at her bedroom window. He describes how he wandered for days before Lacy found him and shut him away. Diminished again, he pleads with Molly, “You believe me, don’t you?”