#i almost made it trickster god childe but that is for another day

[zorosdimples]

fae ajax tartaglia childe

your longtime lover broke your heart right before valentine’s day, and you’re devastated when the once-joyous holiday rolls around; you have nothing left but bittersweet memories and pointless daydreams. wandering the streets of your town aimlessly, ignoring the sweethearts you spot at every corner, you happen upon a beautiful man.

his auburn hair gleams like the sun, his eyes the color of the cloudless sky. his teeth are a bit sharp, ears unusually pointy, but he’s kind: he offers you a single fresh bloom, your favorite flower. there’s no catch, he insists; it’s free of charge. you thank him with a sad smile, though it’s the first time you’ve smiled in weeks. the man asks for your name—a harmless question that you indulge with an honest answer.

you leave the stranger with a lighter step and place the stem in a cup of water when you return home. after several days, none of the petals have wilted, and the leaves are as verdant as ever. days turn into weeks, and the beautiful flower haunts you. why won’t it decay? it defies the laws of nature. in a fit of suspicion, you throw the flower out, and banish it from your mind.

the next day you awake to the man who gifted you the flower lounging in your room. but the man—you realize entirely too late—is no man at all, but a fae. the name he gives you is fake, you assume, but it’s a name that you will come to know intimately: childe.

childe intends to collect your debt forthright.

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Difficult Question

Word count: 3000

Warnings: continued second-hand embarrassment? 😉 tickling, fluff as always

This is in response to a prompt from @sigyn-laufeyson0609 for a sequel to An Embarrassing Secret. Thanks for the idea friend! 😊 I snuck in a little soft Loki toward the end, just to switch things up a little!

* * *

You had avoided Loki for a solid week after he had revealed he knew about your blog. Although he didn’t seem to find it as strange as you’d have expected him to, you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed. Your writing wasn’t something you’d intended to show anyone, much less the tall, handsome, alien god who made you feel giddy every time he said your name.

Despite your concern that he would tell the others, no one else so much as breathed a word about your little secret. Either they were too kind to say anything for fear of embarrassing you, or he truly hadn’t told anyone else. You hoped it was the latter, although you supposed it couldn’t get any worse than Loki finding out.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. The first time you ran into him, other than those brief moments in passing where you ducked your head or turned the other way, you were sitting in the library again, this time actually reading something rather than typing on your laptop. (No way were you risking leaving that out in public again…) Loki had entered the library without your knowledge, having been engrossed in the novel you were reading while sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs. A sudden squeeze to your side alerted you to his presence, causing you to jolt and whip your head around to find the god smirking down at you. He shot you a wink before continuing on to browse the shelves.

Somehow, that brief interaction had eased your anxiety around him. You didn’t really want to stay away from him, after all. And it seemed like he was going to treat the whole situation as a game, which in a strange way made you feel better about the whole situation. You would much rather he use this little secret for some lighthearted flirting versus making a big show about it.

So, you went back to your usual routines, no longer trying to shy away from him. He rewarded you with the occasional poke to the side while passing by you in the hallway, or a quick pinch to the soft skin above your knee during movie night with the team. And, maybe, you started trying to provoke him a little more. Doing little irritating things like stealing the last cookie right from under his nose or changing the channel during one of the rare moments he was actually watching something on the television usually earned you a couple extra scribbles to the belly, or a fluttering of fingers to the neck.

It never lasted longer than a couple seconds at most, though. Most of the time that was plenty for you, just long enough to make your heart beat faster with adrenaline and for heat to prickle in your cheeks.

But not today.

No, today you were really in the mood to be tickled senseless. You were even making sarcastic comments to some of the other Avengers, hoping that someone might just decide they’d had enough of your sass. Although no one else knew you actually enjoyed it, everyone was aware that you were more ticklish than the average person. It was uncommon for the others to take advantage of it, but on rare occasions Thor or Tony would dig their fingers into your ribs to get you to stop talking if you were being particularly annoying. Today, though, no one was getting the hint.

You didn’t see Loki until later that evening, when you stumbled across him in the common room. He was alone, sitting on the couch with his back leaned up against the cushions and his feet up on the coffee table. He had a book in his hand, which he seemed pretty focused on, turning a page every few seconds as his eyes skimmed across the aging pages.

“You’re hovering again,” he observed suddenly, never once lifting his gaze from his book. Startled, you left your position from the doorway and entered the room, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

“I’ll never understand how you know people are there without even seeing them,” you marveled.

“I’ve told you before – it’s impossible to sneak up on me.”

“Well maybe I’ll be the first someday.” You sat back against the couch, and silence blanketed the room, save for the occasional crinkling of the pages of Loki’s book as he continued to read. You realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to try to provoke the Asgardian to tickle you – you were alone in the common room, and he seemed to be in a state of focus where he would be pretty irritated if you broke his concentration.

You wanted to be subtle, though. You wouldn’t want him to think you were asking for it, after all, and as he was the only person who knew about your secret, you figured he would see through you pretty quickly if you tried too hard. So, you started simple by leaning forward and picking up the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television. You found a program he had previously expressed disinterest in and set the channel to that, settling back against the couch cushions, and turning up the volume.

Loki was silent despite all of this, so you stole a glance in his direction. His brow was furrowed a little, but his gaze was still fixed on the pages of his novel. Need to try harder, you thought to yourself. You cranked up the volume a little more and laughed a little extra loud at every joke. After trying this for a few minutes, you risked another glance in his direction.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

You were starting to get a little desperate. The desire for someone to tickle you had settled itself like a flame in your belly, and it had been slowly building all day long. But you were too proud, too embarrassed to just come out and ask for it. You had to find another way.

You turned your body so you were leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretched your legs out across the couch cushions, your feet only inches away from Loki’s leg. This time, you didn’t even chance looking over at him, knowing he wouldn’t try anything if he thought you were expecting it. You sat still for a maddening amount of time without finding any success in your attempts. You stretched one leg out a little further and tapped his leg with your foot.

Nothing.

You tried again, this time with a little more force. At long last, the trickster looked up from his book to glare at you.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Uhh… no, sorry,” you replied quickly. He turned his attention back to his book, and you turned back to the TV, feeling a bit deflated. Your mood was still gnawing at your insides, though, and you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet.

You waited a few moments, trying to think of another way to get on his nerves. Maybe you just needed to try a different angle.

“So… watcha reading?” you inquired.

“Shakespeare,” he stated without looking up.

“Oh. That’s really old though, isn’t it?”

“’Old’ is a relative term. What you consider ‘old’ is actually quite new for someone my age.”

“Right. Because you’re old too,” you snickered. This got him to look up at you again finally.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, like you said, ‘old’ is relative. So, compared to me, you’re really old.” You held his gaze, a triumphant grin threatening to spread across your face.

“Yes, I am ‘old’ compared to you I suppose. And yet, you still seem to like what you see.”

Your face flushed hot.

“I- well- that’s not… never mind,” you huffed, turning away from him once again. You heard his book snap shut, the cover making a small thumping sound as he set it down on the table.

“You seem a bit off today. Is there something with which you require assistance?” You glanced up to find his blue-green eyes fixed on you. It was difficult to read his expression – he wasn’t annoyed, but he wasn’t overtly amused, either.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re watching a television show you and I both know you hate, laughing loudly and turning the volume up, and just generally trying to capture my attention,” he listed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you were trying to get me to tickle you.”

“W-what!? Pshh. That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you stammered, folding your arms defiantly across your chest. “Just because I don’t mind it doesn’t mean I would ask for it.”

“I see.” Loki sat back against the couch again, picking up his novel and reopening it to his bookmarked page. “So, you won’t mind if I go back to reading in peace, then?”

“Nope,” you affirmed, popping the P for emphasis. You leaned back into your seat once again, your arms still crossed. You changed the channel to another show you were more interested in so you could try to forget about this whole thing by distracting yourself.

Once again, the room fell silent, with the exception of the voices on the television and the flipping of Loki’s book pages. Your heart sank deeper in your chest in disappointment. You almost had him there – why did he have to go and ruin it by observing out loud that you wanted to be tickled?

“Honestly, y/n, you look as if someone put something sour in your drink,” Loki said finally, placing his book back on the coffee table.

“I’m fine,” you insisted flatly, refusing to look at him.

“I’ve told you before – if you want me to tickle you, all you have to do is ask.” You observed him in your peripheral vision, your stomach swooping at the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“No,” you stated.

“No? No what? No, you don’t want me to tickle you? Or no, you refuse to ask?”

“Just… no.” You pulled your feet closer to your body, sitting crisscross on the couch with your arms still folded across your torso. Loki chuckled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sound like a petulant child.”

“Do not!” you argued. Loki didn’t respond – he merely held his hand out at you, silently noting that you’d proven his point. You huffed and turned away from him, pretending to turn your focus back to the television.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, darling,” he sang, scooting closer to you on the couch. “You are hoping to provoke me sufficiently to make me retaliate and tickle you. You’ve been doing so since you saw me from the doorway. Don’t try to deny it.”

Heat was crawling up your neck into your cheeks again, and you squeezed your mouth shut, shaking your head defiantly. He shuffled a bit closer, now only inches away from you. “I’m sorry to tell you, dear, but you’re going to have to ask me properly.” You let out an involuntary groan at that, your heart pounding at the sheer proximity of the god beside you. “Use your words, darling. What is it that you want?”

Your resolve was breaking. This whole exchange was only enhancing your lee mood, and he’d made it clear that you wouldn’t get anything out of him without actually coming out and asking for it bluntly. It was difficult to form the words in your mouth.

“I… erm… could you… uh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased, his smirk broadening.

“Could you… would you, maybe… couldyoutickleme?” The words finally came tumbling out of your mouth, and as soon as you said it you found yourself pinned down on the couch, the god of mischief hovering over you with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Now, y/n, was that really so difficult?” Before you had the chance to tell him exactly how difficult it was, he cut you off by digging his fingers into your ribcage. He knew it was a weaker spot, drawing rambunctious laughter from you as you grasped his wrists. You weren’t really making any effort to try to push him away, of course, but it gave you something to do with your hands. “For someone who wanted this so badly, you’re making it exceedingly difficult with your incessant squirming.”

“I cahahan’t help ihihit!!” you exclaimed, arching your back as his fingers darted down to your belly. He wouldn’t give you the chance to get accustomed to one spot, quickly moving to scribble into your sides or drill his thumbs into your hips. It was exactly what you’d been hoping would happen all day today, and yet still you could barely handle it as ticklish shocks wracked through your body.

“Let’s see, now – where else are you ticklish? I don’t have your little narratives open for reference this time, so I suppose I’m going to have to find out for myself,” he pondered aloud, tone laced with mischief. “Ah! How about here?” Loki slipped his fingers under your arms, causing you to clamp them down to your sides. That didn’t stop him, though, continuing to vibrate his fingers into your uppermost ribs. The sensation made you shriek, throwing your head back and laughing with abandon.

“Nohoho Loki! Not there!” you cried, feebly pulling at his wrists as much as you could with your arms pressed to your sides.

“No? On the contrary, dear, I think it’s a perfectly effective spot.” You twisted involuntarily, accidentally rolling off the couch and face first onto the floor with a thud. Loki was at your side in a flash, kneeling beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yehehes,” you giggled, heart fluttering at the idea that he was so concerned about you possibly being hurt. You turned to roll onto your back to look up at him, but he pressed down on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked ominously, his fingers moving to dig into your ribcage with renewed vigor. Not being able to see his hands was so much better worse. You tried desperately to roll onto your side but each time he would shift both hands to the newly exposed side, forcing you to roll back onto your stomach to protect the sensitive skin there. “Shall I ‘go in for the kill’ as they say?”

“No! Don’t! Anything but that!” you pleaded, although you both knew your heart wasn’t really in it.

“Sorry, darling, but as I recall, you did ask for this.” With that, his fingertips scribbled into that wretched spot on the back of your upper ribs. You kicked your feet against the floor in ticklish agony, your laughter pitching up an octave. Before long, your laughter grew silent, prompting him to ease up on you and scratch lightly at your sides. You turned to roll onto your back, and he allowed it this time, chuckling at your disheveled state. You took a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with exertion, and you twitched occasionally when his fingertips found an extra sensitive spot on your side.

Loki’s fingers stilled against your sides, and you frowned up at him, feeling a sense of loss without his touch. He laughed heartily at that, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

“Silly girl, was that not enough for you? Do you need me to continue?” Before waiting for your answer, he reached down and fluttered his fingers behind both knees. You squealed in surprise, giggles spilling from your lips. Loki sat on your shins to avoid any accidental kicks to the face, shifting to knead at the soft skin just above your knee on your inner thigh. You hadn’t anticipated just how unbearably ticklish that spot could be.

“Wait wait wahahait!! Stahahap!!” you cried, trying desperately to yank your legs out from under the Asgardian.

“Ah, I see I’ve identified a new– what do you call it? ‘Death spot’?”

Your laughter was growing hoarse, and Loki took this as his cue to let up again, getting up off your legs and kneeling beside you. You were exhausted, but the endorphins coursing through your veins made you feel giddy.

“That… that was mean,” you said breathlessly.

“I’ll remind you once again, you asked for it,” he retorted.

Loki stood up and offered you a hand to help you off the floor, which you gratefully accepted. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not certain what to say. For the first time, you noticed Loki was also at a loss for words; his hand moved to the back of his neck, and he glanced around the room, uncertainty in his eyes.

On a whim (or maybe it was just the residual adrenaline, you’ll never know) you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around the bewildered god in front of you.

“Thanks, Loki,” you whispered into his shoulder. He stood frozen for a moment before finally sliding his arms around you as well, squeezing you tight.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, his voice low and gruff, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. You hugged him for another moment before releasing the trickster and hurrying off to your room, hoping to hide away before you could say anything to ruin things.

And, you can bet, you would be doing some more writing tonight.

Part 3: A Cozy Evening

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Flufftober - Day 4

4 - Sparklers & Fireworks

Written for @flufftober2021 's event.

Pairing: Loki x GN!reader Word count: 1,3K

Tags: Loki’s POV, Loki and reader having sensory issues, Loki and Bucky having PTSD, fireworks being a triggering bitch.

Trigger warning: description of a panic attack.

A/N: I’m choosing Christmas as the chosen holiday because in my family we’ve always celebrated it, although I’m not christian. This fic has no intention in having any religious speech, just the fun! Also, the Christmas traditions I might mention are the ones from Argentina, and they might not be the same as yours. With that in mind, enjoy the reading!

Christmas, for obvious reasons, wasn’t actually a tradition in Asgard. So, the first december Loki got to spend on the compound with his brother’s friends, he found himself wishing he had come to midgard sooner. This thought lingered on his brain throughout Halloween, too, but that’s for a whole other story (the trickster God on having his own day of the year? That was something else).

But the main reason why he had enjoyed this holiday so much on the Avengers compound, was the feeling of belonging they surrounded him with. Even with the bad moments of the night, he had always felt welcomed and embraced.

The night started with food —as it always did. Stark had prepared a whole banquet for them to feast upon, and Loki enjoyed the chicken and the russian salad like a child all over again. He also tried the nuts and the chocolates, and turned his skin blue at the brain-freeze of the ice cream, much to everyone’s amusement.

The sky was clear, not a cloud to be seen, and stars shone brightly from the top of the Avengers Tower. Loki had not understood why the soldier commented on how lucky they were that it wasn’t raining, since the celebration so far had been happening indoors. But he ignored it and went on with the party.

At some point in the night, Thor asked him to join him in the terrace, at the top of the building, to see the “magical lights”. Loki chuckled and told him that in Midgard there was no such thing as magic —at least not commonly used.

“Does it have anything to do with Dr. Strange?”, he asked, and Thor just shook his head and told him,

“You’ll see, brother. You’ll like it”.

So, Loki walked to the table and poured himself another glass of champagne, making some more small talk with the widow and heading towards the entrance of the roof, where most of the avengers were now waiting for the so-called show to start. He was expectant, to say the least, but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise by asking any further.

He reached to his brother’s side and bumped his shoulder, with wonder knitted in his eyebrows.

“Where’s my little mortal?”, he asked in almost a whisper. Thor, who knew nothing of subtleties, answered with his big and obnoxious laughter that usually made everyone laugh around him —but it only made Loki blush in embarrassment.

“Y/N must be somewhere away! They doesn’t like fireworks at all, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t see why, they’re like… they’re like battlefield celebrations!”, he explained, and Loki now furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. For his brother to refer to something as magical lights, works of fire and battlefield celebrations at the same time… he couldn’t wrap his head around what that meant.

“And the soldier… the one with the arm?”.

“Bucks? Oh, he doesn’t trust himself around these things…”, said Rogers, peeping in the conversation. “I don’t like them much either, but at least something hasn’t changed in the last few decades, you know? It’s kinda nostalgic”.

“Nobody seems to like these”, muttered Loki.

“Oh, they’re good”, said Natasha with irony painting her voice, as usual. “You know, except for the environment, and animals, and most kids, and neurodiverse people, and…”.

“Boo, party pooper”, said Stark. “Come on, Nat, cut us some slack! It’s Christmas”.

“Should I tell them I’m neurodiverse? Why isn’t it good for…?”, he whispered once again over his brother’s shoulder, but Thor waved him off and told him it wasn’t that big of a deal, and that he’ll be fine.

They all watched expectantly to the sky, and when the hour changed, the glasses started tinkling with each other, and saying “Merry Christmas”, and… and a bomb went off.

Or that’s what Loki thought. He jumped off his seat and hid under the table, grabbing Wanda —who was right by his side— with him, to protect her. Wanda looked at him without understanding his reaction, as if Loki had been wrong about shielding her from the explosion. But as soon as he heard another one, and everyone else being nonchalantly happy, filling their glasses with more alcohol and chatting over the horrible sounds that made his heartbeat resemble a vibration and his palms sweating buckets, he realized that was what they were talking about. The hideous, horrible, terrifying works of fire.

Of course they’d like it. Guardians of the war and chaos, Stark was a former weapon seller, the rest were assassins or soldiers that couldn’t live under a peaceful country. Loki, in that instant, knew they were waging war over the innocent lives of the new yorkers he once attacked.

“I can’t be here”, he hissed to Wanda, and she grabbed his hands, worriedly. “Scarlet, I can’t…”, and soon his world began feeling slower and faster at the same time. A wave of heat and coldness went all the way from his neck through his spine, stopping in every protuberance to pick at his skin like sharp nails. He felt out of breath, “stop the bombing, now”, he commanded without much determination. “People can’t keep dying under my… I shouldn’t allow…”.

“Loki. Loki, look at me”, said Wanda, grabbing his hands even more firmly than before, trying to ground him. “There are no bombs. It’s all noise and no harm. Go to the library and they’ll help you”.

He didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but he knew that if he were to follow someone’s instructions in the beginning of an episode, without much idea of what was going on around him, it would be from the Scarlet Witch. So, without hesitation, he teleported to the library in a matter of seconds.

He landed on his knees and heels of his hands. Passing his sweaty palm through his sweaty forehead, he found the sounds from the works of fire were way more muffled by the walls —still there, still there, still there—he needed to rid them. He was still out of breath and his whole body shook as if an earthquake was happening only on his feet, yet he managed to stay grounded because he finally saw a familiar and comforting face.

You were leg-spread on the couch of the library, submerged in a fat book, noise-cancelling earbuds on and a cup of the ice cream he had tried earlier. He finally understood where you were all night long, not away from them —away from the works of fire and the explosions.

He still couldn’t articulate a single word, unable to move, unable to get the words through his tongue and out his mouth, but it was okay; you saw him and walked to him with a smile. You gestured in silence to him something like “the noise?”, and he nodded. You nodded too, understanding, and handed him the stim toy you kept close to you and a new pair of noise-cancelling earbuds, gesturing him to put them on.

In that same moment, as he followed your instructions, still completely unsure of what those monstruosities were but way calmer now that you knew what he was going through and knew exactly how to help, Barnes walked into the library with another cup of ice cream and a pair of headphones on himself. He stopped in front of Loki, who had already his earbuds on, and said something that Loki interpreted through reading his lips as,

“Welcome to the club, buddy”.

Since that very Christmas, Loki knew he could spend the day off in any other realm —even in other country without the works of fire—, yet he had grown fond of his new tradition, of staying with you and Barnes on the library couch, eating ice cream, reading books and playing silent games such as charades.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson )

[the-ethereal-serpent]

🧚🏻‍♀️Protection From The Fae🧚🏻‍♀️

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Iron

Iron in any form or shape has always been considered the very best protection against fae – in almost all legends, the metal is like kryptonite to Superman. If you kept an iron nail in your pocket, you couldn’t be carried away by them. Sometimes iron nails were sewn into the hems of children’s clothing for that reason. A pair of iron shears hung on the wall near a baby’s bed was said to prevent the child from being swapped for an ugly fae baby.

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Steel

Steel is also effective against the faeries because it is created from processed iron. If a faery is cut by a steel or iron blade, the wound will not heal or will take a very long time. In some stories, the Fae is slowly poisoned by such a wound. Steel or iron weapons are among the few things that can actually kill a Fae being.

However, unless it was plainly self-defense (and sometimes even that wouldn’t help your case), you could expect the rest of the faeries to exact a terrible retribution!

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Horseshoes

You can put one above the main entrance of your house and it will help protect the entire home. For added protection, put iron near any opening a person could go through. If you have large windows, you may want to place some nails near it to make a barrier. You can do the same with your dog’s house to keep the fairies out.

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Bells & Chimes

Bells were also said to have frightened off evil faeries in Medieval Ireland and elsewhere in Europe. Specifically the big, deep-sounding Church bells that would ring to draw the people to Church. So this theory can be applied to your home by hanging deep-toned chimes on your front or back porch or by using deep sounding bells during magickal ritual.

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Food

Traditionally, bread and salt provided protection from the Fae. Carrying yeast-risen bread with you had a two-fold effect. It would repel some faeries. Other faeries would accept it as an offering and leave you alone.

My gramma taught me a Welsh tradition of leaving a saucer of milk and a slice of bread or some bread crusts on the back porch as an offering to the faeries, so they wouldn’t play pranks on the family or trouble the livestock. Sometimes, if you were seeking the faeries’ aid, you might add berries, honey, or cheese.

Even humble oatmeal was believed to be a fairy repellent. You could carry a handful of dry oatmeal in your pocket or sprinkle it on your clothes. As long as you didn’t mind looking flaky, you’d be safe.

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Salt

Salt’s association with purity made it an excellent tool against otherworldly beings. Spreading salt across the threshold and along the windowsills has long been the primary method of keeping faeries, demons, and spirits out of houses. If you had to carry food to the farmhands in the fields, sprinkling it with salt was said to keep the faeries from taking it – or from extracting the nourishment from it unseen!

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Offerings

Leave a pail of fresh milk, butter, or cream outside of your front door on the eight holy days to appease the fae and keep them from wreaking havoc on garden and home. Leaving faery offerings and libations dates back hundreds of years, and if you have any Celtic ancestors, you probably have ancestors who partook in this tradition. Some people in Europe still do! This is a preventative method of protection from trickster and evil fairies. Make them happy at the back door so they don’t intrude.

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Plants

Historically, garlands were often made of marsh marigolds and hung over the barn doors to protect the horses from being ridden to exhaustion by faeries in the night. Flowers, especially primroses, were spread over windowsills and hung above the door-posts of the house for safety. Your best bet, however, was a plant called St. John’s Wort. Wearing it was said to provide strong protection from fairy magic and mischief.

Fairies could vanish at will and remain invisible to mortal eyes for as long as they pleased. Carrying a four-leafed clover would allow you to see the faeries – but only once. A Celtic tradition was to sew several of the clovers into a tiny bag to be worn around the neck. You could then discern the faeries once for each clover in the bag. In some legends, the clover was said to allow you to see through fairy glamors and magical disguises.

Red berries were believed to keep fae at bay, especially if they were from rowan trees, mountain ash or holly. So did red verbena (a flower). Daisies were often tucked into children’s pockets or woven into fanciful chains to wear around their necks to prevent them from being taken away by the fae. And if you were walking through the woods, it was best to carry a walking stick or staff made of ash or rowan wood.

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Protection Charm

At this season, the Winter Court is in rule and you will want to look out for malicious, harmful beings in your interactions with the fae. You can make yourself a protection charm using:

St. John’s Wort

Sea Salt

Lemon Zest

Rosemary

Eggshells

An Iron Nail

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Ancestral & Deity Protection

One of the MOST effective forms of protection against evil faeries (and other spirits in general) is to invite your ancestors and gods into your home. Once your guides and guardians take up residence in your home, they do most of the work of keeping out negative forces like evil fairies and the like. In fact, my ancestors are SO good at protection, I have to ask their permission to allow any other spirits inside the home!

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Faery Box

Decorate a small box by painting it and gluing on glitter or plastic gems. Inside place leaves, pinecones, crystals, and plants. Add a piece of felt or fleece in the centre as a soft bed you can add essential oil to. Draw a sigil on it that will protect you from harmful fae. At night, light a fake candle by the box, and leave out some food.

Make sure to protect yourself from negative influence. Then invite those of good intention to see the place you’ve prepared for them to rest in, and stay with you through the night if they wish to. Leave the candle on, as long as it’s a fake one, and then go to bed.

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The Circle Of Light

Another effective yet simple technique of faery protection consists of using one’s mind and energy. If you are used to using visualization in your meditations, rituals, and spells, this method of fae protection should be familiar to you. It’s what I like to call the Circle of Light.

You can do this visualization exercise any time of the day, any day of the week and as often as you’d like. For me particularly, I do it every night as I’m lying in bed and before I go to sleep to continue to build the circle’s strength around my home

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Running Water

Fae folk are unable to cross streams and rivers, so in any pursuit leaping from bank to bank will be a sure escape for the hunted human. Water courses running south are said to be especially efficacious.

Oddly, nevertheless, fae seem to have no objection to still water. They actively seek it out for washing themselves and they are from time to time associated with wells. For example John Rhys in Celtic folklore (1901, p.147 & chapter 6) notes the existence of several ‘faery wells’ in Wales which demanded attention from local people, in the absence of which they would overflow or flood.

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Hag Stones

According to John Aubrey, if a person could locate stones through which natural erosion had created a hole, they could protect their horses from night-riding by fae by hanging the stones over each horse’s manger in the stables- or by tying the stone to the stable key. The fairies would not then be able to pass underneath.

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Sources : http://aminoapps.com/p/4sn2it

[confused-as-all-hell]

"i know we broke up, i know we don't talk anymore, but I still miss you"

@wesper-week i'm sincerely sorry for this chaos

Jesper Fahey's trade was humor.

His clothes were the colour of too much attention, his laugh limned in shimmering gold. He drew gazes and wistful stares like a lighthouse beacon called for drifting ships. The lines of his body were sharp, elegant, sprawling. When the corners of his mouth lifted in a grin, stars gleamed in his eyes.

He was so achingly beautiful, all tousled dark hair and broad shoulders and warm hands.

Girls and boys fell over themselves for one kiss, one little smile, one whispered word in their ear. How could they not?

Jesper was young and handsome and heady as a cup of evening wine, clever with his graceful fingers, wicked with his soft lips. His GPA was polished, his manners immaculate.

They hung on to his words, the cadence of them, the amused lilt that drenched every sentence.

Jesper had fallen in love with so many, men with rough laughs and kind smiles, women with curling hair and bright eyes. He had taken them over the world, to parks and monuments and cafes, kissed them in the shadow of history.

For every one of his lovers, he bought a ring.

Amethyst for the young lady who carried the scent of lavender.

Gold for the pretty girl whose lips tasted of joy.

Sapphire for the boy who kissed like a fucking god.

Ruby for the trickster woman who loved to laugh.

Copper for the handsome man who had a smile like late summer.

Jesper had cared for each of them in turn. He gifted flowers and jewelry and handwritten letters in his untidy scrawl. He had told them stupid jokes and held their hands and read to them in his unmade bed.

But one by one, they left him, and soon all that was left of their love were those glinting rings.

"Is there something wrong with me?" he whispered once, face shining with tears, head thrown back against the wall.

Nina rested her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him awkwardly. "Of course not, darling."

He patted her cheek clumsily. "Then why does everyone keep leaving, Nina? Why does nobody stay?"

"Wylan—" she began, but shut her mouth instantly.

"Wylan is different."

And he was.

Beautiful, quiet, sweet Wylan Van Eck with his slender hands and paint-splattered face. He was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, sketching the stars as they lay intertwined in bed, smiling over his cup of morning tea, dressed in his oversized shirts and plaid trousers.

His kisses were soft and tentative and tasted of tea leaves. His grins were slow and mischievous and bright as the damned sun. When he sprinted along the rim of a fountain, laughing and arms aloft, Jesper thought love might kill him.

He still dreamt about that day, Wylan leaping across the broad rim, his face upturned, sunlight brightening his hair to flame and gold. Wylan, paint smudged across his lower lip, hands stained with red acrylic. Wylan, pretty blue eyes bright with mirth, his panicked yelp as he nearly toppled sideways.

Wylan, Wylan, Wylan.

Sometimes, when Jesper was laying on the floor of someone else's bathroom, watching the ceiling spin and spin, he could still hear Wylan whispering, "And if I said I am yours, and there is no greater honor, what then Jesper?"

They had been so fucking happy, happier than Jesper deserved, all sticky orange juice kisses and skinny dipping in the ocean and opulent restaurants of ivory and gold.

And then Wylan had mentioned the gambling.

They had argued for days and weeks and then months, furious and bitter. Jesper used to live for the clink of coins and soft rush of the wheel and the elation that flooded into his eyes, ears, mouth, fingers. He loved the hum and chaos of the nightclubs, the frenzy of congratulations and drunken kisses and the retreat into those shadowed alcoves.

The scent of alcohol, the sounds of triumph, the press of hands on his body, the pleasure and ecstasy and joy.

But on their hundredth argument, tears were running down Wylan's face, distorting his freckles and widening those fucking blue eyes. He'd whispered he wouldn't stand for it, and Jesper had woken alone the next morning.

His bed was too empty, his kitchen was too quiet, the room where Wylan painted was too fucking much. All that remained was the hole in Jesper's heart and a sketch of the water fountain Wylan had drawn so lovingly, each detail of the scene preserved forever within charcoal. The ice cream parlor. The sunlight. Wylan, laughing and trying to keep his balance, eyes bright bright bright. Jesper, staring at Wylan as if he had never seen another quite so magical.

The memory of those eyes haunted him, every damn day.

He found himself writing essays on Wylan's long, copper lashes. His eyes, the blue of tranquil oceans, of the clear winter sky, of salvation. The glints of silver shining within, a quiet intelligence that so few had glimpsed. The way he would shyly glance away whenever Jesper grinned at him.

How many times had he stared into those eyes, while the two of them lay bare and exhausted among his own silk sheets?

How many times had he looked up after a kiss to find Wylan smiling back at him?

How many times had he nearly drowned within Wylan's gaze, steady and thoughtful and really fucking hot?

But slowly, agonizingly, bitterly, he grew used to the silence.

He stopped texting Wylan in the middle of the day, face damp with tears, hands shaking with misery.

He stopped accidently brewing a second cup of coffee at breakfast.

He stopped glancing to his left, searching for a glint of red hair in crowded spaces.

He stopped seeing Wylan when another was beneath him.

But sometimes Jesper wondered if anything could make him stop loving the boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

And if sometimes he glimpsed Wylan in the halls, or at a nightclub, or sketching with those fucking charcoal pencils, he could wave. Smile. Pretend he wasn't going to take another home just to ease the day's pain.

'Why won't you go back to him?" Kaz asked once, barely glancing up from his phone.

"He doesn't want me," Jesper said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows as if in disbelief. "Jes, I have it on good authority that Wylan Van Eck hasn't dated a single soul after your breakup."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody," Kaz said airily.

"Nina?"

"Nina."

Jesper attempted a loose smile, but it drifted aside easily as a gauzy veil twitching in the wind.

Wylan Van Eck, kind and brave and good.

Wylan, with his inquisitive eyes and thoughtful conversation.

Wylan, lonely and miserable because one stupid fucking boy had broken his heart.

He could barely stand it.

In some hidden chamber of his mind, he had locked away Wylan’s laughter, the tide of his amusement, inexplicably bright and wondrous. It felt like gazing at one of his softest paintings, a lush blend of ivory and blue and gold, like glimpsing something raw and beautiful and secret.

A burning star.

A miracle, spinning through the galaxy, leaving nothing but light in its wake.

A memory, and no more.

Wylan had once laughed so freely, snickering over an amusing quip, or stifling his smile when Jesper read to him late at night.

That sound of joy and delight. . . it was the brightest damn thing in the world.

And Jesper wanted to know that somewhere, in some other softly lit room with a man looking up at Wy like he was the sun, that laugh was sounding again.

He wanted to know that even if Wylan didn’t shine for him, he shone nevertheless.

The next morning dawned piercing and cold, a bright jewel in the crown of winter. Jesper chose his clothes with unusual care, knotting the laces of his boots twice, cleaning his dozens of rings before slipping them on.

Once he had hoped Wylan would give him the last of the collection—the wedding ring.

Now, as he finished with the last of them, he left his fourth finger bare, a final shrine to the ghosts of their past.

The cafe where he had asked, begged, pleaded for Wylan to meet him was nearly empty, but for a handful of people. His gaze lingered on a young woman with curling brown hair who might have been Nina in a hat, and a man with his leg propped up that was almost certainly Kaz.

Even though he made a mental note to strangle them later, the gesture eased the pressure within his chest ever so slightly.

And there was Wylan, a cup of tea clutched between his slender hands, huddled in a soft brown sweater. He was staring out of the window, those damned blue eyes vague and empty.

Jesper slid soundlessly into the booth, holding his breath as if he could force the longing from his lungs. “Hello, Wylan,” he said softly.

When he glanced up, something in his gaze shifted.

A blossoming flower.

An easing rainfall.

Something wonderful and exquisite and otherworldly.

Hope, hope, hope.

“Jes,” he returned with a little smile.

And Jesper leaned forwards. He couldn’t help it, not when Wylan was there before him and his lips were curved so slightly and his fingers were wrapped around his mug like—

“Wy,” he said, clearing his throat, “I wanted to talk.”

He straightened slightly, that quiet peace dissolving. “Had I not wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have answered your text.”

They stared at each other silently, waiting; it felt like sitting in the living room together, huddled over a game of chess, Jesper grinning as he slid the first pawn two squares up.

But he was not nearly so confident about his play now.

“I’ve been talking to Kaz,” he began awkwardly, the words clumsy in his mouth. “He told me you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“And I’ve been speaking with Inej,” returned Wylan, utterly refined and elegant in his simplicity. “She tells me you’ve been seeing everyone.”

Jesper felt like a child again, clutching a rifle in his inexperienced hands, brows drawn together in concentration as he replayed his mother’s instruction in his mind. His father was playing target again, brown eyes gentle with encouragement. He didn’t know what to do, he was going to shoot his father, he was going to harm harm harm.

The words in his hands, his throat, were constricted and awful and stumbling. He didn’t know how to shoot without hurting anyone he loved.

Wylan was still gazing at him, blue eyes dark, for the first time in memory. “Jes,” he said, “was I so easy to forget?”

“Forget?” Jesper croaked. “Like a stupid song or piece of information on the study guide? Like you didn’t shine brighter than the damned sun? Like there were days when I didn’t wish to capture the stars and give them to you?”

There was a strange, crackling rush in Jesper’s ears, as if the ocean had swelled too high and now he was drowning, drowning, drowned.

If Wylan wanted him back, if Wylan loved him still—

He could wake up every morning with soft limbs tangled in his own. He could kiss Wylan again, taste tea and sugar cookies and mint. He could marry him, live out a life with him, die on the bed beside his own, fingers interlocked tight.

The future was there, tangled and messy and uncertain, but there all the same.

But Wylan was shifting in his seat, almost anxiously. “Jes,” he said softly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His eyes, his lovely blue eyes, were beginning to shine. “I know that look,” he said, almost bitterly. “I know that look damn well.”

Jesper’s giddy excitement was beginning to wither, and he clung to it desperately, a final shield against the darkness. “What look?”

Wylan reached out, fingertips stained blue with paint, hands still slim and delicate, a work of art. “If you think I want to… to get back together, I don’t. You and I, it was so much fun, and sometimes I wonder if everything was more than a college romance.”

He retracted his shaking hands, and ran them through his copper hair. “I wonder if another Jesper, who loved himself as much as his friends love him, and another Wylan, who was just a little bit of a better boyfriend, might have had their future together.”

Jesper could only stare

Wylan whispered, “Don’t you see it, Jes? We were stupid fucking collage kids who fell in love, but it was never supposed to carry on. I told you, that night in the club, I just wanted sex.”

He remembered.

Just sex, do you understand? No more, Jes.

But then, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you just once.

And it kept going, spiraling, until one morning they were laying in bed and Wylan was wearing Jesper’s shirt, and Jesper was stroking Wylan’s hair, and it was much more than just sex.

One date, Wy. Give me a chance.

I love you, I love you, I love you, dumbass.

I want you to move in with me. I want you in my bed, my kitchen, my clothes. I want to see you tired and angry and miserable and I want to tell you you’re still the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Jesper had imagined their wedding, every so often, a blazing pillar of hope lighting the path to the future. He had dreamt tailored suits and blue eyes and the final ring. He had planned every detail of his speech, his vows, his oath to live and die with Wylan Van Eck.

“Just sex,” he said at last. “We fucked it up, didn’t we, Wy?”

Wylan extended his hand once more. “I loved you, Jes, I won’t pretend. But I’m with someone else now, and I care for him, and I promised I would sort out the ghosts of my past.”

Jesper slid his palm over his, reveling in the soft skin, the gentle touch he would never feel again. “You’re happy?” he said softly. “He makes you laugh?”

He smiled, a secret, lovely smile. “Yeah. Yeah, he makes me laugh.”

And the sudden truth of it, the fact Wylan was someone else’s now, and he was laughing in another’s arms, hit Jesper. It sent ice through his veins, his mind, the final shattered shard of his heart, tearing through memories.

Wylan, brave and wonderful, laying on his bed. His hands were aloft, describing a particularly clear night sky, the shapes he traced in the stars. He had named one for Jesper, and he said it was shaped like love.

Jesper, doubled up in laughter as he flipped a pancake, listening to yet another one of Wylan’s rambling stories. He never tired of them. Those recollections, the happy lilt to his voice, the giddy, “There’s more, though!” were treasured beyond gold.

Wylan, working on some assignment or another, sprawled on the grass of a dewy meadow. His head was pillowed on Jesper’s hoodie as he wrote, filling the page with his elegant script. Every so often, he would glance over and point out a butterfly or shaped cloud with a smile.

Jesper, watching as Wylan leapt across the fountain. His copper head was upturned, sunlight streaming down onto the angles of his face, joy etched in his brilliant grin. He looked like a god for that one moment, frozen forever in a snapshot of peace.

“I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me not to,” Jesper had whispered once. “I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me to. I will love you, because I am yours, and there has never been such an honor.”

When the years whiled past, when the bone-deep sorrow lightened at last, did Jesper still love him?

That was the question he asked himself every morning over a cup of bitter coffee.

Twenty-four years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Thirty-one years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Forty-five years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Fifty-seven years old, and Jesper still loved him.

An old man, dying in his bed, and the laugh ringing through his head belonged to a boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

A dead man, and Jesper loved him from the grave.

Love bowed to no one, and least of all death.

A collage romance was theirs, but their love was not that of two foolish young men, out for a kiss and in for a good fuck. It was carefree, happy, bright as the sun. It was etched in the stars, and it was doomed from the start.

Love bowed to no one, but perhaps it inclined its head towards Jesper Fahey and Wylan Van Eck.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Impossibly Redeemable - 24 - Paint-by-Numbers Cars

Summary: Shortly after faking his death in Svartalfheim to fool Thor, Loki wakes up to find himself in a  realm that is not the one he “died” in. After meeting another person in  a similar predicament, he learns the only way home is through  redemption. But how can he possibly do that? Monsters like him don’t deserve redemption, do they?

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,288

Warnings/Disclaimers: None this time.

A/N: Happy to be making progress on writing again! I think joining NYC Midnight's 100 Word Challenge is helping with that. Hope everyone enjoys!

Masterlist

The train car’s doors resounding slam was nothing compared to the blinding nature of the room. White walls interrupted with dark lines to form haphazard shapes made Loki long for the eternal night of the Halloween sub-world of the last car. You and Eva seemed to feel the same as you shielded your own eyes while Eva buried herself into your side. Eventually, you adjusted to just barely dull the brightness, allowing you all to see the floor and ceiling were adorned similarly to the walls.

“What is this?” Eva asked softly as she released you to point to the middle of one the shapes on the floor.

You and Loki knelt down for a closer look. Your little girl mimicked your movements. Small numbers sat centered as indenturing markers in each outline. What did any of this mean? Loki knew it was a puzzle, but what needed to happen in order to solve it? Some numbers were repeated within various contours. Could some of them be rearranged to form a letter or word? Or were the numbers a key to some code?

A colored glow shook him from his thoughts. Eva had reached out to tap one of the shapes with her middle finger. It lit brightly before its number and outline were blanketed with a solid color. But what bothered both you and Loki was Eva. Her fingertips were glowing and were quickly left with what looked like uniquely colored paints on each one. She didn’t look as though she was in pain, just more shocked than anything. 

And Loki was too busy internally fussing over the child to catch your hand as it touched a different piece.

Your fingers did the same as hers only with a different spectrum. You rose to your feet, recognition glinting in your eyes, and traversed the room in search of something.

“Darling?” Loki called out to you in both concern and curiosity.

You hummed noncommittally in response, all too focused on your hunt. Eventually, you found what you were looking for on one of the walls. By now, Loki and Eva were on your heels, observing your every move. With the same finger as before, you grazed your chosen shape, the gentle action allowing the god to see the digits this contour held matched that of the previous. It reacted in the same fashion.

Eyes gleaming and lips curled into a satisfied smile, you finally turned to your companions to explain yourself.

This wasn’t the first time Loki had asked himself who was the train created for. Too many themes and puzzles felt so… Midgardian. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. In his younger days, he would have scoffed at the idea of actually enjoying mortal past times. But now? Despite his initial confusion, this whole “Paint-by-Numbers” activity was actually quite favorable.

Once you had explained the concept of pairing numbers with hues to reach the end result of a fully colored illustration, Loki took to it almost immediately. He had learned a multitude of methods to create fine works of art through his upbringing, all to expand his skills. This was different. It allowed for those of any level to create something beautiful. Normally, he was not a fan of such mindless, repetitious movement. Yet, the process was strangely calming, almost meditative. Although, it did help that part of it was broken up with the two of you teaching your would-be daughter how to read the numbers so she could help more efficiently. Seeing her little face light up when she correctly chose a shape’s color on the first try brought the trickster more joy than he had thought possible. You watching her on the sidelines like a proud parent amplified it tenfold. 

The more you all carried on, the more complete the image surrounding you became. It was some kind of garden bursting with flowers, foliage, hanging vines, draping trees, most of which you claimed to have never seen before. All the while, familiarity bubbled in Loki’s stomach. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact details. The nature of this particular art project left the aesthetic more vague and impressionistic. Perhaps he was merely projecting his own memories on this place. He shook his head and moved to work on the sky forming on the ceiling above. 

His height made it simple for Loki to reach the splotches he need, and he could have completed his areas quickly. Instead, he chose to alternate between his work and lifting Eva to reach hers while also relieving you of the ache in your arms from trying to do just that. The bright smile that grew on your face every time he traded off with you was more than enough. And it’s not like it took much longer to finish. It at least helped to distract him from the gnawing nostalgia he felt in his mind.

Satisfaction swelled in his chest when you all finally reached the last block of color that needed to be filled, and it belonged to him. Before he could touch it, he felt your arms wrap around him from behind. With a chuckle rumbling in his chest, he turned in your grasp and pulled you into his side so you could watch as the painting was done. Eva was quick to join in. With his family together, he tapped the remaining white space.

A fierce, whipping wind rose up, effectively forcing you all to seal your eyes shut in an effort to protect them. Loki’s hair snapped at his face as he tried to bring you and Eva in closer and use his body as a shield. Even though it only lasted a few moments, the god remained braced for anything else, yet only received a soft breeze rustling his clothing and surrounding foliage— His  eyes snapped open.

That was right. Foliage. Blades of grass nipped at your legs. Intoxicatingly fragrant flowers in every conceivable hue dabbled across the low rising hills into the valley trailing up into the mountains; Many even Loki could not remember the names of despite having grown up in their midst. Yes, it was all seeping into the forefront of his mind. This was Asgard, or at least it was the outer reaches of it, a place his mother took him frequently when they both needed a reprieve from palace life.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you gave him a minute squeeze, pulling him away from the fond memory. His arms cradled you and Eva closer before his lips met your hairline.

“Well, I suppose you can say you have seen Asgard now,” Loki murmured, not trusting himself to speak any louder, but even that felt foreign and boisterous.

Your mouth pursed as you took in the view. Loki absentmindedly carded his fingers through Eva’s hair. She was stuck in complete awe.

“The word ‘beautiful’ isn’t enough for all of this…” Your voice was so small and delicate that the breeze could have carried it away without a trace.

Then, a tiny tug on Loki’s trousers brought his attention downwards. Eva was pointing off in the distance.

“Who is that?”

How had he not noticed it before? He followed her line of sight to see a figure standing past the barely visible threshold of the wall.

Golden hair braided, hanging loose about their shoulders to sway delicately in the breeze. A gown of pastel yellow shimmered like water against the sunlight. The feminine form turned to face you all. A nod and wave was all you and Eva could see from the distance. As their hand fell, their form faded away only to be replaced by the inevitable red, gilded door.

“Mother?”

Tag Lists:

Loki (Impossibly Redeemable):@buckybarnesthehotshot @kaogasm @superheroesandstardust

Loki (General):@nahthanks@lucywrites02@whatafuckingdumbass @gaitwae

[the-obelisk]

What Could Be-- Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: Giving space in the wake of mourning your guardian, Loki begins to envision the depths of what you mean to him. And what your future together might hold.  

“How is Y/N?”

Thor asked while he watched you walk into the library.

Loki turned to look at his brother and shrugged, “Still in mourning. Wondering if the feeling of guilt will ever go away for the death of Lord Ambrose.”

“Loki,” Thor looked at his brother knowing he held affection towards the young Fae. “Why not go to Y/N? Offer comfort, maybe talk?”

Thor knew how closed off you had been. It seemed in moments of need, you and Loki often ran towards one another.

However, Loki shook his head.

“Y/N asked to be alone. I might not like it, but I understand.” He simply stared at you as you placed more book down on the table inside. He looked back at Thor once more, “Goodnight, brother.”

Thor watched as his brother offered him a nod and headed towards his room. The blonde man looked back at the door you had closed now, most likely burying yourself in work or sulking over the fire. Loki had enchanted it to stay on for longer period of time when he noticed how often you were in there knowing how the warmth of it made you feel more comforted. 

Thor knew that while his brother wouldn’t admit it now. Loki was infatuated with you. And seeing you hurt, pained him.

Sighing Thor, headed off in the direction of the other members in one of the common rooms to unwind.

Loki entered his room and exhaled once the door shut. The day was anything but short to say the least.

He watched as he almost lost you twice. Once that felt unimaginably real, and the other time, where you illustrated undying loyalty.

You had grown so close to him over the past several months that he has come to know you. In a much shorter manner than most.

Loki was fond of you. You were intoxicating and ethereal to him. You shone a light on the more tucked away aspects of himself.

Ones that he, now, would only show you.

But as he moved to lay on his bed, he couldn’t help but wonder how far you worked your way so deeply into his heart.

He was the first to detest love, finding it utterly moronic. After all, he pitied his brother for falling for Jane, a mere mortal, to only have his heart broken.

But now— in some remarkable way— he laid in wonder at the chance of loving you for a lifetime.

How lovely you would look on your wedding day. One where you would be surrounded by family. Perhaps your brother, while Loki never met him, may walk you down the aisle.

And if he couldn’t, perhaps, Thor would.

Loki marveled at the idea of you carrying his child, or even children, if blessed.

The beauty you would have, smelling as though you were drench in honey and sunlight. Simply, radiating beauty and warmth.

You would be a glowing sight.

And as a mother, you could only warm him even more.

The thought of your child between you two, a newborn being rocked to bed by you, and a small image of a child, that looked like you and him, running around— it scared him.

He didn’t want to be his father. One that had chosen favorites and neglected the other. Loki was sure he would give his child a father that would love them freely.

And you, as his wife— as the mother of his children, would make it all that more enticing.

But he had almost lost you today.

For a moment, all those dreams and fantasies of him making love to you, reading to you, watching you work on your latest projects, they all almost slipped from him.

Loki never imagined a life where he would be cared for in such a mutual relationship. He was used to people throwing themselves at him and others cowering in fear.

While your devotion to one another wasn’t openly spoken about; Nor had the idea of you and him being together didn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind until today. He knew that you were someone he would happily hand over the world to.

He loved you.

And watching you slowly slip in his hands at that moment— he hadn’t been more scared in his life.

You believed Ambrose, your guardian, to be the most important being in your life. The trickster knew, you were his.

Loki groaned at the sappy affection he held towards you. It was so unlike him.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t wished Frigga was there to offer her piece of advice. Though, he knew what she would say. Follow where your heart guides you.

Reaching over, he grabbed the small object you would toy with. It was a mini-kaleidoscope you had acquired on one of your trips.

“A small boy from one of the villages in Brazil I worked in had given it to me. He managed to make it himself.” You explained one night he asked about the object you fidgeted.

You smiled and help it upright, offering it to him to hold. “He claimed he could see auras in it. I tried, but I didn’t see anything. I didn’t have the heart to tell him,” you said sheepishly.

Peering through it, Loki couldn’t see anything but foggy glass.

“So I told him that his aura was an earthy green.”

Loki smirked at the memory knowing that you felt bad for lying, but you did it with best intentions.

It wasn’t something he wouldn’t had done. Which is why, your knack for kindness and warmth perplexed him.

After seeing all the horrors of the world, you always seemed to point direction towards the light at the end. Maybe that was your purpose in life— to this team that you were so unsure where you had fit into.

He licked his lips and imagined a world away. One where it was just you and him. No dangers and the avengers.

A place that you both felt you could call home. Lay down your heads and start life anew.

Not as the God of Mischief and a Fae Princess, but as Loki and Y/N.

He knew you loved Sweden, and while Loki preferred Norway more, he was willing to give in. He found a small village towards the southwest end of Sweden that was only miles from Norway.

It would be a perfect compromise.

But first he knew he would have to tell you how he felt once you were ready. After, you spoke to him about your grief. Once you felt okay again to accept his words of devotion.

Loki wanted a life with you. He was tired of being scared and alone, bitter and isolated.

He wanted a fresh start. One where you were at his side.

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Epilogue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which Loki enjoys his new life with you. Chapter Warnings: none I believe A/N: Thanks for coming along this little journey with me. Having been unsure of this story myself, I’m overwhelmed by the positive feedback it’s been getting! Happy reading :)

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RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki @fredweasleyandlokiaremylife @aestheticallyholland @loki-yoursaviourishere​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki would never understand why they Norns blessed him with you, but he’d be forever grateful they did. That instant connection, that irresistible pull hadn’t faded at all. It only grew stronger, and drove his fear it was fluke further and further away every day. The kisses definitely helped too.

Moving into your apartment with you felt rather natural after having stayed in the motels together. You fell right back into your pattern, teasing and caring for each other, both in the most tender of ways. Waking up next to you still made him flustered, but he loved how the first thing you’d do was plant a kiss on his lips. Then you’d snuggle close to him and let him hold you, making him feel important to be allowed to wrap his arms around you. You, who were the only one to believe him. Believe in him. Truly, you were one of a kind.

He started having nightmares again. It’d been a while, but after what happened at the AIM base, he was tormented again. Now with the thought of you crumpling today the ground, his dagger buried in your flesh. It’d been an illusion, a necessary one, yet it still haunted him. He never told you the exact content of the dreams, but those were the times he let you hold him instead of the other way around. You’d always whisper sweet things in his ear until he calmed.

Right now you were snuggling on your couch, his arm around your waist while your head rested in the crook of his neck. He read a book as the TV played in the background, having grown accustomed to your habit and learned to tune out the noise. It was rather domestic, and Loki had been almost surprised to find out he liked it. Then again, any time spent with you was bound to be perfect, wasn’t it?

Today was your day off from work at the Avengers Tower. Loki would have been more than able to provide for the both of you, but you insisted that you wanted another job. As soon as Tony heard, he’d offered you one where you would help him figure out tech in the lab and monitor threats. Reluctantly, Loki had become friends with the man during the times he’d go and visit you at work.

Admittedly, the friendship was beneficial to Loki in more ways than one. During his time on the run, stopping crimes and saving people, he found he quite like helping others. You’d helped him find some charities he wanted to work with, and now he was establishing his own. With the help of Stark Industries, of course. They’d agreed almost immediately on helping kids in need, especially those who needed to be adopted or were in foster care. Loki had never much thought he’d want to raise a child of his own, but now he was wondering if he wanted to adopt. He’d mention it to you someday, but only if he was sure.

“Hey, Loki?” you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you, a smile already forming on your lips.

He put his book down immediately, giving you his full attention. Your eyes were still closed as you rested against him, and he took the opportunity to admire your beauty. “Yes, darling?”

“Have I told you yet today that I love you?”

The god chuckled. “Yes, you mentioned it.”

“Well, I’m telling you again anyway.” You finally lifted your head and looked him in his piercing blue-green eyes, cupping his cheek. “I love you.”

“And I you,” he replied, heavy emotion in his voice and shining eyes. “So, so much.”

He relished in the feel of your lips as you kissed him again. For a while he’d worried that he’d fallen for you to fast, that soon you’d not want him anymore, and he’d be heartbroken. Honestly, he still did sometimes. But it was in moments like this that those thoughts dissipated completely. The way you were pushing all the love you felt through to him by way of your connected lips, it made him feel reassured. Safe. You’d never doubted him, and that was so rare for someone like Loki.

Loki repositioned your bodies so he was over you, pecking little kisses along your jaw while you caught your breath. Just when he was about to recapture your lips, your computer chimed. You both sighed, but knew you had to check it in case Tony had blown something up in the lab and needed help again. Your brows knit together as you looked at the screen.

“Everything alright, darling?” he asked, peering over your shoulder at an encrypted message.

“There’s only one person I know who sends messages like that.”

And indeed, you were right; it was Fury. You and the trickster god read the message as you quickly sorted out the code. You were both being called in for another mission, despite having narrowly escaped being locked up. It was top secret, but he simply needed your talents for the case.

You turned to Loki with a smirk on your face. “What do you say? Ready to be done being rebel once and for all, and work with the law?”

“Perhaps,” he responded, pulling you back onto his lap “Though I still plan on doing things my own way.”

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I love you.”

Before you could reply to the director, Loki began kissing you again, finishing what you’d started earlier. And for once in his life he didn’t care how anyone else saw him. Not when he had you. Not when he was finally perfectly and completely happy.

[lokifantasies]

Love and Happiness

Series Summary: Loki finds an abandoned newborn baby in an alleyway on a cold, New York night. Without question, he takes her in and raises her as his own.

Warnings: child abandonment

Chapter Summary: Loki has a successful first day with Paisley.

JOIN OR READ THE DISCORD ROLEPLAY!

"It is an amazing roleplay where you get to see cute pictures of baby Paisley and interact with and help out daddy Loki." - @mortallythoughtfulgurl

"When I started in this group I only read the RP, but now, I interact because it’s fun. I get to find all kinds of cool pictures, which is fun, especially when the picture will have a story to it." - @nms224

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think!

Taglist! (Let me know if you want to be added!)

@mortallythoughtfulgurl @nms224 @gold-bea @sharris8 @nessie2183 @lvkxz@eyesbluelikethetitanic

“You just…found her?” Dr. Banner asked the God of Mischief while he checked over the newborn girl.

“Yes,” Loki confirmed, his voice low and eyes completely focused on the baby. “Her name is Paisley,” he tells him. “Paisley Sophia.”

“You’ve named her?” Steve scoffed, approaching the trio with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Loki, she’s not your daughter.”

“She is now.”

Banner completed his physical of the little girl and confirmed that everything with her was alright. It seemed that Loki found her right on time; otherwise, she would’ve fallen victim to hypothermia. The thought of Paisley suffering in such a way shattered Loki’s heart. When Banner turned to fill a syringe with the Hep B vaccine, the baby cooed up at Loki and excitedly kicked her small legs, trying to giggle at the god.

“Alright,” Banner sighed, turning back towards Loki and the happy baby, “she’ll need another dose in about two months, but this will protect her from Hepatitis B.” Loki nodded and smiled softly down at Paisley, stroking her cheek to keep her looking at him while Banner found the spot on her soft and chubby arm to insert the needle. The moment the pointed object broke through her skin, Paisley let out a blood-curling scream, and tears fell from her gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s okay, my love,” Loki spoke softly to the little girl, letting her curl her right hand around his left index finger. “Shh, shh, almost done.”

“And…there we go!” Banner playfully announced, removing the now-empty syringe from the baby, and placing a small, circular Band-aid over the tiny hole in her arm.

“Good girl!” Loki cheered Paisley, gently picking her up from the table and holding her close to his chest. “You did so wonderful!”

Other members of the Avengers watched on, having heard of the situation, and wanting to see it for themselves. Bruce, Steve, Tony, and Natasha observed the God of Mischief playfully bouncing the baby girl in his arms. It didn’t take him long to get her tears under control, and before long, she was cooing up at him once again.

“What’s the trick?” Natasha asked, her arms crossed, and eyes narrowed towards Loki.

“I don’t think there is one,” Banner responded honestly. “He seems to genuinely care about that baby.”

Steve scoffed and shook his head. “Are we really going to believe that he just found her in an alleyway?”

“Why else would he make that up?” Thor’s voice questioned from a few feet away. “My brother is a trickster and a liar, but he would never mess around when an innocent baby’s life is at stake.”

“Forgive us if we find him a bit untrustworthy,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

The group made its way back to the large, shared living room, and Banner stayed behind to speak with Loki about obtaining a birth certificate for Paisley. Thankfully, he would be able to get one without any trouble.

“Let’s go get you some clothes, hm?” Loki smiled at Paisley, who was now falling asleep in his arms.

The group watched on in shock as Loki walked out of the compound, constantly speaking to the baby girl in his arms.

Not knowing what to get for Paisley, Loki grabbed some of everything. He made sure she had enough onesies and outfits to wear and grow into, warm pajamas to sleep in, cozy blankets, the best crib, giant bulk-size boxes of the best rated diapers, wipes, diaper rash cream, large packages of pacifiers, bottles, formula, and any toys that he felt Paisley would like. He was beyond happy about his ability to be able to conceal and transfer things. If he weren’t able to do such a thing, there would’ve been absolutely no way to get all the supplies back to the apartment. The two arrived back to the small apartment, and Paisley began to cry.

“Hungry?” he asked her, placing her down in the makeshift crib and conjuring up the formula and a new bottle. Almost as if it had become second nature, Loki filled the bottle with the four ounces of water and two scoops of formula, microwaving it for a few seconds to get the chill off it. “Here we go, sweetheart.”

Loki picked Paisley up out of the comfy laundry basket, and he rested her against his left arm, his right hand bringing the bottle to the newborn’s lips. Her lips eagerly wrapped around the nipple, and Loki couldn’t help but to grin at the sight. “There you go, Paisley,” he spoke lowly. Loki’s thoughts raced, and his heart smiled in his chest as he watched the baby girl drink up her meal. “I know I’m not your father,” he whispered, tears beginning to gather in his eyes. “But I cannot let go of you.”

Paisley finished her formula, and Loki placed a towel over his shoulder, patting her back to get her to burp. Once she was finished, he held her out in front of him, admiring her coos and movements, her blue eyes looking up to his.

“I swear to you, my sweet girl,” he continued, “you will only know love here. You will only feel happiness and joy.” Loki sniffled and blinked away some tears as he played with her wiggling, little toes. “I haven’t a clue what I’m doing, but I swear to you that I will do everything I can to do right by you.”

As he finished speaking, Paisley’s eyes began to close, so the god conjured the crib and magically built it, filling it with the soft mattress and a blanket. Gently, he stood up and went to place the baby down for her nap, making sure to press a loving kiss to her forehead, and a soft one on her nose.

[katzkinder]

Some funny context for what started this huge rant ww

Uhhh basically I was thinking about Tsurugi and like. How he’s a composite of traits of both Fenrir and Baldr

Which led me to a few different routes

BECAUSE Tsurugi is Baldr, he could not be saved by Freya in canon, since Frigg (Now officially Baldr’s mother was Frigg but it’s actually thought by some that Frigg and Freya are the same goddess, just different aspects of her, because standard naming for a lot of these guys is... Nonexistant LMAO. imo there is enough similarity between the two to warrant this reading, with these similarities going so deep as for them to both possess a falcon feather cloak, are each associated with seidr and weaving related imagery, and they have husbands with almost identical names, with Freya’s husband being named Od and Frigg’s was Odin. And these aren’t even all of them, but if i listed those out, we’d be here all day lol. Even without that reading, though, having Freya’s name be “The Mother” is a very purposeful choice on Strike’s part to evoke that imagery of Frigg and Baldr) was unable to save Baldr, and the reason she was unable to save her son was because of the trickery of Loki

Loki is literally represented by Shuuhei thanks to the way Iduna initially misread his name since the Kanji for Tsuyuki, “露木,” can also be read as “Roki,” ”ロキ,”　which would be how a Japanese person would read Loki’s name, and it’s a nickname that stuck with him from then onward.

Metaphorically though, Loki is represented by Mikuni, who is the character who best embodies the mischievous and sometimes outright antagonistic relationship the god Loki has with the Aesir, as well as the fact that Loki is only an Aesir in name. Loki is actually a Jötunn, pronounced “Yo-tunn,” an ice giant from Norse Myth who are represented by the vampires within Servamp, being in direct conflict with C3, who represent the Aesir. Mikuni, too, is only C3 in name, and this argument is made stronger by the fact that it is the Alicein who provide the majority of C3′s funding, similar to the way that it is Loki to who provides the majority of the solutions to the problems the Aesir often find themselves in, even as he also often causes these problems to begin with. ... Again, much like Mikuni/the Alicein (since Lily is a Servamp, and therefore one of the “sources” of the difficulties C3 faces) |D

Another interesting thing is the etymology behind the name Loki. It’s been heavily debated, but the strongest argument appears to be that Loki’s name possibly originates from the Germanic root “Luk-,” which has to do with knots, loops, and ropes, and Mikuni’s Lead incorporates all of these things.

It was due to the both the revenge sought by Shuuhei against his “Odin,” Shamrock, and the schemes of the trickster Mikuni, that Freya’s path was turned from Tsurugi and towards Iduna! Loki in two different forms caused her to be unable to save her “son.”

Tsurugi and Gear’s relation is also intertwined with symbolic references to Odin, the first one we receive being that Tsurugi’s signature animal is not a wolf like you’d assume due to his name, but crows.

Odin had two wolves, yes, but he also had two ravens, which to the untrained eye look very similar to crows. These ravens would go out each morning and return at dusk, having collected wisdom for Odin.

—Which brings me what Tsurugi offered Freya

Now this is a nod to Odin that Tsurugi shares with Shamrock, that being: Odin’s missing eye. When Odin found the well Mimir (hi Johann), he could only drink from it and attain limitless wisdom if he gave something up in exchange, and the thing he gave up was one of his eyes. The most frequent eye Odin is depicted without is his right one, which Tsurugi, Shamrock, and even Inner Wrath, are each shown as either trying to offer in exchange for power (Tsurugi), missing (Shamrock), or obscured (Inner Wrath)

For Shamrock, this also is important, because his beef was with Shuuhei, “Loki,” Odin’s blood brother (fuck you marvel)

Okay back to Gear lol

Gear’s astrological clock is named after Odin’s throne, which I will not be tormenting myself currently by trying to remember the spelling of it, and upon this throne Odin would observe the goings about of all of the nine realms, with his loyal wolves and his ravens by his side.

Freki, the name of one of Odin’s loyal wolves, is also how Fenrir’s name is sometimes written, and Fenrir was the one… Who ultimately killed Odin during the battle of Ragnarök.

Another detail is that Gear’s family name, Hatiwelt, contains the name “Hati,” which was one of the two children of Fenrir, and I love this one in particular because Hati was one of the two wolves who chased the sun and the moon. We actually don’t know whether Hati chased the sun or the moon due to the fact that while in Western literature, the sun and moon are often male and female respectively, and the word used to describe the celestial body Hati chased was “bride,” the word for moon in old norse, Mani, was actually male.

Regardless of which Hati chased, both can be taken as a reference to Gear’s species as a werewolf, and wouldn’t it be cute if the woman Gear had a child with/passed his power to was named Mani?

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[amusedyan]

Labyrinthian

This fucking thing has been the source of my fucking writer’s block for months and I FINALLY GOT THIS THING FINISHED!

Featuring cryptic Trickster Eldritch Labyrinth god Dazai

The labyrinth was unending, unyielding. The walls themselves so tall that you had to crane your neck to see the sky- it had gone dark, and the stars? Forget it. You would be so lucky to see stars in this hell.

When the king had called for a sacrifice, you had been one of the many offered. Dressed in white for the offering, and forcefully purified, you had been let loose in the labyrinth, fodder for the creature inside. Because of your sacrifice, the headman had said, you thought venomously, the kingdom would be safe, the monster sated for one more year.

And what of the next year?

“Short sighted bastards,” you spat on the ground and marched forward. Marched to your death, maybe. Probably even. But you had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you gave in, then fear and hopelessness would overcome you.

You didn’t want to die. But if you had a choice, then you’d rather die on your feet than in a crouch, crying in despair.

Already it was at your heels, following you. As you alternately hurried, walked, marched or sprinted through the stone paths you would find horrible mementos of the past sacrifices- bones, dried and flaking blood, severed limbs or shredded clothes, similar to what you wore. You prayed over each other them- not to the gods who had trapped that Thing here, but to the souls of your predecessors. May they be at rest and free from pain, fear, and the machinations of the living and immortal.

The Thing in the labyrinth was a god. Was, but now he was an immortal thing with the human hunger, cast down by the pantheon and sealed here.

Your stomach growled uncomfortably.

There wasn’t much to be done about that, though- you had been given limited rations, and you wanted to make them last, unappetizing as they were.

So on you went- with no direction and no way to mark where you’d been.

But time dragged on, and eventually your anger and your fear fled, and you had nothing but hunger, thirst, and exhaustion waiting for you and slowing you down.

It wasn’t fair, you thought. The despair had caught up with you, and you could feel your eyes burning. “I’ll save my tears,” you muttered, rounding a corner. By now you were leaning on a wall. If the monster found you, you would die for sure.

But instead of more endless stone walls, you saw trees, and water. For an absurd moment, you thought that you had found the way out. But as you stepped into the clearing, you saw more walls around it, and you understood.

This was a garden.

But it was a garden, and that meant water and hopefully food, so that was something.

You drank from the water until you threw up, and then drank some more. The water was cold and clear, and you had never tasted something so sweet in your life. You dipped your feet in to calm the ache next and closed your eyes. You couldn’t relax, but you could rest here.

It felt safe, like the air itself had taken a moment to let itself go.

“How could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place?” You wondered out loud.

When your feet grew numb, you began to look for food. And, luckily, you didn’t have to look long.

“Fruit trees,” you breathed in wonder. All of them were fruit trees.

You’d never been much of a tree climber as a kid, but hunger bred desperation, and like a monkey you were scrabbling up and up to the first stable branch.

You ate 3 apples and dropped some more to the ground before climbing down, more carefully than you had climbed up. Your belly full and your thirst quenched, you finally succumbed and fell asleep beneath the tree. And no matter your intentions, it was a deep sleep, dreamless and dark.

-x-

You woke, completely relaxed under a late morning sky.

The sky?

And more than that- there was a smell

The smell of apples cooking.

When you raised your head you saw a young man wearing the white garb of the sacrificed. He was bandaged, but he still smiled when he caught your eye.

“You’re up.” He waved, and you found yourself wandering over. “Sorry, I just saw the garden and I was so hungry. Did I scare you?”

“No.” And it was the truth. “I didn’t see you with the other sacrifices.”

“There are several gates.” He shrugged. “One in each of the cardinal directions. I came in the West.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Your expression hardened. “If all the food comes in the same gate then the meal is all at once and the sacrifices would have to be more than once a year.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Here, I roasted a few for you, too.” He handed you a spit on which two apples were speared.

“Thank you,” you took them gratefully, and introduced yourself.

His name was Dazai, he told you. He was from a port kingdom. Over breakfast he described the sea and the ships, and you listened eagerly. Before the sacrifice, you’d never been anywhere but your home village and the market.

“Have you seen anyone besides me?” You asked, despite yourself. It felt like a cloud had passed over you both, and you shivered involuntarily.

Dazai looked down at the fire and sighed. “No one alive,” he said very quietly.

“I…was afraid of that.” You admitted, and you both went quiet. You ate your apples while they were still warm.

After awhile, Dazai cleared his throat and you looked t him again.

“Would you like to run with me?” He invited.

The idea…wasn’t a horrible one, in all honesty. In the very least, you thought darkly, you could trip him up and use him as a distraction if you were found by the monster. But more than that, you wanted company.

The two of you filled your respective waterskins and packed away as many apples as you could carry. Dazai took some of the charcoal from the dead fire. “We can mark our way with it.” He explained. It was a risk, but a calculated one; if you knew which direction you had come from then the monster surely could as well.

You and Dazai began to walk and you felt much more relaxed with someone at your side. It was as like the labyrinth itself was cleansed. It wasn’t as scary with someone else, you decided.

For lack of anything better to do, you compared notes on the creature in the labyrinth.

“My home says that the gods cast him down for his cruelty,” you recounted. “They sealed him here- once you’re in, you can’t escape.” You swallowed nervously. “But that part can’t be true. There has to be another way out.”

“He wasn’t a god,” Dazai scoffed as you backtracked, marking on the wall that the passage was a dead end. “He came Before the pantheon.”

You frowned. “There was a before?”

“Honestly,” he sounded s disappointed. “What are they teaching people nowadays. Yes, there was a before. The Old Ones were first, and when the New rose, there was war. The Labyrinth God weighed his options and helped overthrow his people.”

“Why would he betray the Old Ones?” You wondered. “Wouldn’t he have loyalty for his people?”

“It wasn’t about loyalty.” Like he was explaining things to a child, Dazai broke it down. “You have to look at the bigger picture- there was a war and it had to end. The Labyrinth God looked at the outcomes and made a sacrifice for the lesser damage.”

“And it made him cruel?”

“No. It made him a liability. They cast him out, stripped him of his divinity and created the labyrinth. And here we are.” He squinted up at the sky. “Well, at least we don’t have to deal with straight sunlight,” he grumbled.

But something made you suspicious. “How do you know so much about it? I thought you came from a port town?”

“I do. But my family were scholars.” He shrugged.

“Oh. And they just…surrendered you?”

“Well, it was only me. And it wasn’t like they liked me much to begin with.” He chuckled, and you felt a momentary stab of both guilt and pity. You had people on the outside to get back to, and Dazai just…didn’t want to die here.

Well, maybe you could bring him back with you.

But you didn’t voice that idea, you weren’t stupid. A. you didn’t want to offend him, and B. You didn’t really trust him, not just yet.

So on and on you walked. More than once you hit dead ends and had to go back, or somehow circled back around. Several times you swore you heard the growling of the god in question. Those times bot you and Dazai froze and listened, pressed against the wall, trying to judge just how far away it was. The final time, the ground shook as it passed by the next passage over, and you could feel a scream welling up in your throat.

But it passed, and you both waited and waited for ages before going on, slowly and silently, all talk gone.

That night there was another garden, this one more lovely than the night before, with animals and birds. The lake was a little river, and again you both refreshed and rested yourselves. There were pear trees this time, and pomegranates. All the fruit was delicious raw, but there was something satisfying about cooking them and eating them warm.

“Gosh the stars are pretty,” you observed, leaning back. Across the fire, Dazai looked up and softened at the sight of them.

“Yeah. They are.”

You both slept, huddled together for warmth as the fire died.

-x-

And on the third day, the environment of the labyrinth changed. The stones themselves were different, and the walls…

“It’s almost welcoming,” you breathed in wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dazai reached out and touched the stone experimentally.

Remarlably, you found yourself led to some stairs. Stairs, of all things. Up and up you both walked. Why hadn’t you seen any sign of this in the labyrinth?

At the top of the staircase, you saw a palace.

You could smell food now, and your stomach growled for food that wasn’t just roasted fruit.

“Hungry?” Dazai elbowed you playfully.

“A little,” you nudged him back.

There was something strange about all this, you realized, but you were curious. “Let’s investigate.” Dazai declared, leading the way.

The palace was lit and clean, incense scented the air. It was lived in, clearly.

“Is this the monster’s home?” It was so…civilized. What sort of prison was this? One filled with art and delicate vases and décor.

You both followed the smell of food through gardens and rooms and halls, finally finding tables already laid.

“It’s like a celebration.”

Why was your heart pounding?

There was a terrible growl and you froze.

It was here.

“Relax,” Dazai laughed, picking up a goblet. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Are you insane?” You snapped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s here- it’ll eat us Dazai, we have to move!” This was a horrible idea, what had possessed you to come inside like this?

The palace shook under Its footsteps, you were running out of time.

He’d gone insane, clearly, but could you really just abandon him to his fate here?

Yes.

Your survival…

You ran in the other direction, and Dazai’s wild laughter was as loud as the growling, snarling, howling beast that you were trying to flee.

Deeper into It’s lair you ran, your lungs on fire. You didn’t think about Dazai, because it didn’t matter. One foot in front of the other, you ignored everything. There had to be a way out of the palace, a way out.

You burst into a garden in full bloom, but no sooner had you registered that it was grass beneath your feet then you lost your footing, and you fell. And it was hard. Dazed, you lay there, shaking. It was behind you- you could smell the crackle of ozone, hear the footsteps.

But then what you heard was clapping.

“You did so well,” Dazai singsonged, patting you on the shoulder. “I had so much fun. But the game is over, darling, and I think that I want to claim my prize.”

You looked up at him and tried to process just what the hell he was talking about over the racing of your heart.

“Your…prize?”

His kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, eager and impatient.

“You ran and I gave chase. It’s the first time a sacrifice has become more than a meal.”

“What…what am I then?”

“Mine. And there will never be another.”

[germanicseidr]

Wodan

It has been more than a year since I published my post on Wodan. Just like with my post on the Batavi, I wanted to rewrite this post as well to include more information about this fascinating God and also add a bit of my own personal experiences with this deity. This group has gained thousands of members since last year so there are also quite a lot who have perhaps missed my previous post on Wodan. I also want to discuss the similarities and differences between Wodan/Odin and the moment when humans started to worship him.

Wodan is the chief God of the Germanic pantheon. He has countless of names in many languages, it would be truly fascinating to try and collect all of his names into one big list. He is the God of wisdom, knowledge, battle, magic, death, primal rage, healing, tricking humans and the runes. Most of our knowledge on Wodan is based on the eddas. Unfortunately the ancient Germanic people did not write anything down about him but we do have archeological evidence for his worship.

His name comes from the proto-Germanic word Wodanaz which means rage. This already provides us with a clue on how the early Germanic people viewed this deity. Interestingly, the Dutch word for rage is woede, derived from the old Dutch name for Wodan, Uuoden>Woen, Weda in old Frisian. The meaning of the word Wodanaz has not changed for the Dutch people in over 2000 years. This God personally holds a very special place in my heart. Through my work with seidr I have come into contact with him several times.

When did the Germanic people start to worship Wodan?

The first written mention of Wodan comes from Tacitus in 98AD. Tacitus describes several Germanic Gods but unfortunately he uses Latin names to describe them. The Romans compared Wodan with their own God Mercury. Why the Romans compared Wodan with Mercury also isn’t fully clear. Both Gods escort the dead and carry a staff but that is where their likeness ends. Curiously, the Romans compared their chief God, Jupiter, with Donar. This is perhaps a clue into the changing roles that Wodan played.

Just because this is the first written mention of him, doesn't mean that the worship of Wodan comes from this time period. The Germanic people didn't write anything down, their religion was passed down to the next generation by telling stories, it's an oral tradition so we still do not know how old Wodan exactly is.

We can look at archeological evidence as well. When do we first see images appearing that look similar to Wodan? I think most of you are familiar with the classic Odin/Wodan images found all over the Germanic world, from Norway to Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands from the Vendel period and early medieval era. But looking at these images provides us with another problem. How can we be absolutely sure that these images represent the same God? Maybe Wodan was portrayed completely different from how we know him now? Maybe a face of Wodan was carved on wood, similar to the wooden statues found in bogs dating back tot he bronze age? Maybe all the early depictions of Wodan have simply been lost in time.

There is however another theory that suggests that Wodan was introduced to the Germanic people by the Saami. One of Wodan's most defining traits is that he is able to wander across all the realms, speak to spirits and gain knowledge this way. Technically this makes Wodan a very experienced shaman. The Saami people were/are practitioners of shamanism. The Goddess Freyja taught Wodan how to practice seidr. Seidr is a mix of shamanism and witchcraft similiar to the shamanic practices of the Saami people.

Another theory suggests that a Saami shaman, called Wotan, simply became deified by the Germanic people. Perhaps he led a tribe to victory after leading them into battle. Another even wilder theory suggests that Wotan was a Celtic druid who was deified by the Germanic people. The only historic truth that can be verified is that the Germanic culture borrowed elements from both the Celtic and Saami people.

Wodan could also have been introduced to the North-western European people during the bronze age by the proto-indo Europeans. The proto-indo European language spread all across Europe and evolved into different languages, perhaps the same happened to their chief God, Dyeus, as well. Almost all Indo-European cultures have a (chief) God who is quite similiar per example, Zeus, Wodan, Perun, Tiwaz, Jupiter, Dagda, Dievas, Papaios, Brahma.

Even if you research all these possible topics deeply, it is still impossible to say when exactly Wodan was a known deity amongst the Germanic people. The Germanic culture developed during the late Bronze age and if you combine all these theories together, his possible origin could lie near the end of the Bronze age and the start of the Iron age. That would mean that the worship of Wodan began around between 1800BC-1300BC in modern day Denmark, northern Germany and North-eastern Netherlands, more than 2000 years before the viking age even began.

However most of the physical and written evidence for the worship of Wodan came from the early medieval ages until the middle medieval ages, the era between 400-1000AD. One example is a fibula found in Heiloo, the Netherlands. This fibula from 7th century Frisia depicts Wodan flanked by two wolves. There are also coins found in Frisia that depict Wodan. More of such fibula, amulets and coins have been found throughout Norway, Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands, England and Germany.

Written sources outside of the eddas that mention Wodan have also been discovered. This is the nine herbs charm which was written somewhere during the 10th century AD in England. Christianity was the official religion of the English people at that time but it seems that the common people would still fall back on the old Gods in times of need. Here is the charm:

“A snake came crawling, it bit a man. Then Woden took nine glory-twigs, Smote the serpent so that it flew into nine parts. There apple brought this pass against poison, That she nevermore would enter her house.”

There is also an Old English rune poem that basically explains the futhark. This is the stanza for the ansuz rune:

"god is the origin of all language wisdom's foundation and wise man’s comfort and to every hero blessing and hope" The word Ansuz/Os is used for God. Christians did not use this word to speak of their God so this rune is directly related to Wodan.

He is also mentioned in the Old English poem Maxims I:

"Woden worhte weos" Woden made idols.

  The last written record that I want to mention is the German Merseburg charm which I have written about before:

"Phol and Woden travelled to the forest. Then was for Baldur's foal its foot wrenched. Then encharmed it Sindgund (and) Sunna her sister, then encharmed it Frija (and) Volla her sister, then encharmed it Woden, as he the best could,"

 Wodan later became known as Odin in the early medieval Scandinavian world. Wodan and Odin are essentially the same deity but there are some differences between the two. These differences formed over time since Wodan is an older depiction of Odin. Here I tried to list the attributes of both Wodan and Odin in an attempt to show how the early Germanic people viewed Wodan compared to how the vikings viewed him.

Wodan: Skilled sorcerer, God of death, trickster of humans, God of knowledge, bringer of the runes, still has two eyes according to some sources, shaman, primal force of rage, leader of the wild hunt, God of war, God of healing, carries a staff and spear, two ravens, is a deceiver and was a feared God because of his ability to trick humans into death or madness.

Odin: Skilled in battle and magic, God of Knowledge, bringer of the runes, one-eyed, shaman, shapeshifter, dead fighters go to Walhalla to fight for him, God of war, owner of Sleipnir, carries a staff and spear, two ravens and two wolves guide him, more closely related to the Saami culture.

 There are still some traditions left in Europe that are linked to Wodan/Odin. Since I am Dutch, I will explain some Dutch traditions: Sinterklaas, the old wanderer on his white horse who rides in the sky and gives presents to children. Midwinterhoorn blazen, the blowing of the midwinterhorn to announce the arrival of the wild hunt, the traditional start of winter. Hanging the placenta of a horse in an oak tree. Sint Maarten, the old wanderer on a horse who shared a piece of his cloak to a freezing stranger. And lastly possibly the game of paalzitten. If you know about other traditions from other countries that are linked to Wodan/Odin, feel free to share them in the comments.

Here are some of Wodan/Odin’s names in different (Germanic) languges:

Proto-Germanic: Wodanaz Old English: Woden Old Saxon: Wodan Old High German: Wuotan Old Frisian: Weda Old Norse: Óðinn Dutch: Wodan/Woen Old Dutch: Uuoden English: Odin Norwegian: Odin

Feel free to expand on this list in the comments.

 The reason why I decided to rewrite and post this article today is because Sinterklaas has arrived again in the Netherlands. This was traditionally viewed as the start of the wild hunt led by Wodan. He would ride in the cold dark winter nights through the sky, trying to collect as many of the dead as possible. If you were unfortunate enough to see him in the sky, it meant that your life is soon ending and you would join Wodan’s hunt back to the underworld.  In order to please the wild hunt, people left behind small offerings of food near the hearths of their homes. Carrots were left behind to feed Sleipnir. Until this very day, Dutch and Belgian children gift carrots to his horse in the tradition of Sinterklaas.

 At last I want to share one of my own personal experiences with Wodan. As a child and teenager I was always searching for a spiritual home. My mother is a practitioner of witchcraft, a tradition which goes back for many generations in my family. I was raised with this practice of witchcraft but still I felt spiritually lost. That was until one day, on my birthday several years ago, I started to explore the older variant of witchcraft, shamanism.

During that first trance I met Wodan by surprise. His appearance was so unsettling that it caused me to experience a full blown panic attack and I was thrown out of my trance. I felt physically ill for two days until I returned into trance and stumbled upon Wodan once again. I was finally able to communicate with him and it turned out that he caused my panic attack because he likes pulling such tricks on humans, especially when he senses fear. We talked for a few minutes about knowledge until it was time for me to return to the mundane world. Before I left, he gave me a name in Proto-Germanic which I now use as my spiritual name.

Of course I was extremely skeptical about this whole experience afterwards. Was this just something I imagined? I was thinking about this for days at an end while at the same time I had the thought of placing a tattoo on my left arm with the word Wodan spelled out in the elder futhark. Eventually I decided to visit the local tattoo shop to make an appointment for this tattoo. Until my great surprise, the tattoo artist was not only a skilled artist, she is a professionally trained shaman of the native Canadian culture. She knew instantly that I was also dabbling in the art of shamanism and that I was in doubt whether it was actually real.

She then told me everything that Wodan had told me. Wodan , knowing that I am quite a skeptical person by nature, decided to inform another shaman in order to finally convince me that this was after all a real experience. She had to pass this information to me in order for me to finally believe in the old Germanic Gods. It’s interesting that Wodan decided to use a shaman from a completely different culture, showing that the practice of shamanism is at its core exactly the same all over the world. I got the tattoo as well. This first experience with Wodan led me to finally find my spiritual home and it started the quest for knowledge on the ancient Germanic culture. I eventually decided that it would be best to share as much knowledge as possible, the reason why I started this facebook group.

 I am so sorry for this incredibly long post and I congratulate the ones who actually fully read it. In the future I also want to write more about Wodan/Odin’s role in the Germanic mythological lore, his work with the runes and his archetype.

 Here are images of: A depiction of Wodan as a wanderer by Georg von Rosen, 1886, A depiction of Odin by Mary H Foster, 1901, A depiction of Wodan riding Sleipnir from a 18th century manuscript, Frisian Wodan fibula and coins, Sacrifices made to Wodan in the Netherlands around 300AD (human and horse remains, arrow heads and jewelry), The Merseburger charm, Wodan VS Sinterklaas,

[marvelsimp]

The New Kid: Friend or Foe

The New Kid Masterlist

Ch. 5

Genre: Fluff? Pairing: Peter & Lesbian!reader, Avengers & Reader, (eventual Wanda x Reader it’s a slow burn) Warnings: violence(training), blood, stabbed, strong language Description: Y/n is getting used to living in the tower and makes an unlikely friend Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath. Word Count: 2278

“You can’t pull your punches, Y/n/n.  In a real fight, you’re gonna have to fight for your life.”

“You know my whole power set is pacifist.”

“That’s why I have to train you,” said the slightly annoyed red-haired woman. “Now get your head in the game and let’s go again.”

You scoffed; you were frustrated that you had to do this.  That you had to learn how to hurt people.  You took a moment to stretch and you both went back into your fighting stances to start again.

You went to punch her face, but she dodged, she then raised her leg and tried to kick but you caught her foot.  She quickly got her foot free before you could do anything with it.  This went on for a while, you both got some good punches and kicks.  You did land on your ass a few times, but you got up each time and went back to it.

“Time out”

Thank god.

Steve walked in. Oh god no. You knew what was coming, you were gonna have to fight Steve.  You very dramatically fell on the floor and spread out. “Come on, Nat. This is creeping up on child abuse,” you laugh.

You earned a chuckle out of both of them.  Steve stood above you and offered you his hand to which you accepted. Nat went onto showing you some simple moves to help you fight someone bigger than you after about an hour you finally got to go and get a shower and really start your day.

The last week and a half passed by quickly.  Peter stayed at the tower for the first few nights but went back home once school started.  But he would come after patrol and he still video called during homework, like usual.  

Most of your time was spent in one of the labs.  You have been helping Tony with one of his suits as a way for him to familiarize you with the machines and programs.  Bruce did less hands-on work he worked on calculations for his own projects and did some work for SHEILD.  You went down to the Med Lab a few times to give Dr. Cho some blood samples or some information about your powers.  She took a small sample of skin, fat, and muscle from your thigh, but it healed within a minute like nothing ever happened.  

You also spent some time in the gym, which you hated but the others made it a little more fun.  You were really only doing it to get ready for training with Nat.  When you first went in you had no clue what you were doing.  Sam, Bucky, and Steve were doing some training exercise when you entered but Sam quickly saw your very clueless face and walked over to help.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi.”

“I’m assuming you have no clue what you’re doing?  You look as clueless as I would if I went up to the Tech Lab.”

“That obvious?”

He let out a chuckle.  Sam gave you some stretches to warm up and then showed you how to use some of the machines.  He gave you advice on how long to use each machine and told you that if you needed anything just yell.  The rest of your time in the gym you watched the three men do whatever they were doing.  Sam and Bucky’s bickering was very entertaining and so was Steve yelling at them to focus. You were there for around an hour every day until Nat started to train you.  You very quickly learned that you grew muscle faster than the average person and you weren’t sore for very long.  

When you weren’t in the lab or the gym you were probably in your room playing a game or you were talking to Wanda while she was making a meal. “So, are you the assigned cook?” you joked.  You’d only ever seen Wanda prepare meals since you got here.

Wanda just shook her head, “Not really.  I just enjoy it, so I usually am the one to cook.  But Bruce sometimes cooks and so do Steve and Bucky. When I first joined I helped Steve add a bit of flavor to his meals.  Thank god I didn’t live in the 40s.” She laughed a little, you love her laugh and smile, they seem to make the room a little brighter.

You weren’t a cook yourself so you didn’t help too much, but you would talk to her and get her something if she needed it but usually, she’d just use her powers.  

That’s really the only time that you see Wanda, most of her day is spent training.  She’s Strange’s apprentice.  You still haven’t met him, for someone who can make portals you’d think he’d pop in at some point.  You asked Wanda about seeing him, but she told you that you need to be invited or it needs to be something important.  She warned against pissing him off because it takes a while to get back on his good side.  But she told you she’d mention it to him.

You got into a rhythm of training, breakfast, tech lab, lunch, med lab, tech lab, supper, and Video games, the library, or more time in the tech lab.  It was rarely thrown off.  Every few days someone would go out for a mission or return from one.  Nat only missed two training sessions, so Bucky stood in.  You enjoyed training with Nat, but Bucky made sure to put some fun into it.   At first, he seemed so cold but after some warming up, he really was just a big Teddy Bear.  He can still be an ass though.

Your days stayed on this loop for another week until Thor returned with Loki.  No one fully trusted Loki so Stark ended up putting a tracker on him that Wanda enchanted so that Loki couldn’t remove or deactivate it… he was not impressed.  Well, he was, just not pleased.

“You must be Lady Y/n,” Loki smirked.

Thor whacked the back of Loki’s head. “Be good,” he whispered.

Loki just let out a mischievous laugh, “Don’t worry brother.”  Loki turned back to you, “So you’re the one who discovered me? I wouldn’t expect a mere mortal would be able to find me out... not even THE Scarlet Witch did.”

“You’re impressed?” you scoffed. “Or maybe a little jealous.” You knew that he’s the god of mischief and you aren’t gonna deal with any of his shit, you’ve got enough going on.

“No,” he defended, “Just interested.”

“I’m a telepath and empath,” you explained, “and a healer.”

“Oh! So, you cheated!”

“What do you mean cheat? Your thoughts were so loud you were giving me a headache!”

“I will get my revenge.”

He’s going to so annoying, isn’t he?

Loki was surprisingly quiet over the next week until you went to the tower’s library.  

The library itself is a whole floor, it has a copy of every book you could think of.  It even has a librarian who is almost constantly putting up new releases.  It’s a bookworm’s dream.  

You wanted to find a physics book or two and you weren’t against finding a new queer fantasy book.  You returned your books and asked Mx. Anderson where you could find what you were looking for and they quickly gave you directions and suggestions.

You found and picked out a few physics books and then made your way to the young adult section. The queer books have a rainbow sticker on the spine.  You picked out a few then headed to leave, you walked into the “classics” section and there was Loki on a couch reading with a pile of books next to him.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Hello,” said the Asgardian who didn’t even look up from his book.

You bent down a little to sew the cover of the surprisingly thin book. “Oh, you’re reading Shakespeare!” He was reading Hamlet.  “My favorite is Romeo and Juliet. Have you read it yet?” He finally looked up from his book.  “No,” he seemed a little confused, “But I did read a few others of his work and I think that is in my stack.” He turned to find it. “It has such odd language compared to the rest of you.”

“They were written like four hundred years ago,” you explained, sitting next to him.

“Ah, language does change quite quickly.”

You nodded in agreement.

“What are you reading?” he said pointing at your stack of books.

“Oh, uh um. These big books are physics books, and these smaller ones are fantasy romance.”

“Hmm, you don’t seem to be one who reads romance.”

“Well, I’m really more into it for the fantasy elements but I do enjoy a good romance.”

He gave you a smirk,” Besides Romeo and Juliet and any of Shakespeare’s works. Do you have any recommendations for me?”

You went on to recommend some classics and some more recent books.  He listened to every word and asked a few questions.  You didn’t stay long; you were tired and just wanted to dive into one of your books.  You would usually be in the lab at this time, but it was nice to have a few hours to yourself before dinner.  

“Knock, knock,” said a voice at your door.

“Hm?” you looked up. “Peter!” you set down your book and ran to him for a hug.  It had been a while since Peter had come to the tower.  He hadn’t even been introduced to Loki, formally that is.  ‘How’s my favorite bug!”

Peter let out a laugh, “Good! You’re acting like we don’t talk every day.”

“Video calls and in-person are completely different things! Anyways what are you doing here?”

“It’s Thursday aka movie night.”

“Oh, yeah!”

You and Peter walked out of your room and went to the common space to eat dinner.

“Lady Y/n,” said a booming voice.

“Yes, Thor!”

“Would you and the Man of Spiders like to sit next to me and my brother?”

“Yes, we’d love that,” you laughed.

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never had ice cream!” you practically yelled at Loki.

Everyone was surprised with how comfortable you and the trickster were with each other, especially Peter.  

“What’s with you and him?” Peter whispered.

“We bonded over books,” you whispered back. “Your girlfriend would like him.”

Peter smiled, he’s pleased that you’re getting along with everyone and most of all that you’re happy.  

The rest of the night was nice, it was just like the last two movie nights.  Dinner, talking, movie, and then Peter had to leave to finish his homework or go on patrol.  

The next week was just like you had gotten there but Loki had decided that it was a perfect time to really embrace his title.  He started to pull little pranks, nothing too bad or really anything that went beyond a little annoyance.  Or at least he didn’t until today.  

It was Saturday so you slept in because you thankfully did not have to go to training.  You were about to leave when you noticed a box on your desk.  It was about the size of a backpack.  So, you decided to open it and when you looked inside there was a black cat with emerald eyes.  Who got you a cat? You like cats and like…thanks?  But still, who would get you a cat out of nowhere? You picked up the cat and as soon as you did it started to transform, and you felt a sharp pain in your side.  The cat continued to transform into of course… Loki.  The raven hair man quickly sprinted out of your room to the common area.

You looked down and there was a fucking kitchen knife in your side.

“You bitch! I like this shirt!” you yelled while running out of your room.

When you entered the common room, Loki was nowhere to be seen.  But Nat, Bucky, and Steve were there.  “Where did he go?”

“Who?” Nat turned around and saw the knife in your side.  Her eyes widened, then she looked fucking pissed.  “What the fuck! Are you okay?”  The men's emotions followed the same track.

“Oh yeah,” you said nonchalantly.  You pulled the bloody knife out of your side.  Some blood soaked into your shirt’s fabric, but you weren’t worried.  But you do like this shirt… that bitch is gonna pay.

“Do you want me to kill him?” said the brunette man bluntly.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” You rushed into the elevator and told Friday to take you to Loki.

The elevator lowered to the Library. Of course.

“Sorry, Mx. Anderson!” you yelled while running by their desk. “There will be yelling and possibly blood shed!”  You already know where he is.  He’s in the classics.  

There he was sitting on the couch, nonchalantly reading the Iliad.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know?  I really like this shirt!” you waved the knife in your hand around.

“Oh please.  You’re a healer, you’ll be fine.”

You crossed your arms, “LOKI. My fucking shirt.”

He raised his arms in defense. “It just a blood and a slight rip.”

You walked up to Loki and took off your shirt, thankfully you were wearing an undershirt that you didn’t care about.  You handed the shirt to him.  “Fix it then.”

He accepted the shirt and scoffed. “Fine.” He waved his hand over the shirt and it was now good as new.

“See, that was easy.” You grabbed the shirt and started to walk away.  “And don’t stab me again! I think two assassins would very happily kill you!”

NEXT CHAPTER 

Ice Cream or Blood

[aku-writes]

I tried to flesh out Ji-Woon Hak more. Dunno, key word is tried.

Note: I kept some of BHVRs OG lines from his lore, so please keep that in mind. A good chunk of the beginnging is pretty much bhvrs.

Another note: Everything highlighted in blue is BHVR's original words. This will include rewording.

Ji-Woon Hak thrived under the attention of others, energized by every eye that watched him and every tongue that spoke his name. Amidst the prestige, he had only one desire: more.

Working at his family’s restaurant as a child, he would draw in business with knife-throwing spectacles. Gullible tourists gladly handed over their money to see part of the “traditional Korean experience”. His talent for knife-throwing was not the only thing that brought in customers, Ji-Woon was a natural with his voice and his father only nurtured his talent for singing. Ji-Woon’s father spent the restaurant’s earnings on dance lessons and vocal lessons for his son, pushing him to attain the fame he could never achieve.

Ji-Woon did not disappoint.

After years of showing his abilities to nobodies at talent shows, he finally got his wish of a chance of stardom when Yun-Jin Lee, a producer at Mightee One Entertainment, recruited him into her training program. He was swept away as soon as possible to a dormitory in Seoul where, for fourteen hours a day, he was crafted into a star. Ji-Woon was not only taught how to move and sing, but how to carry himself with the right balance of confidence and modesty as well. Each detail was chiseled into him as if he were a statue.

Draining as the process was, it worked. Yun-Jin selected Ji-Woon to join the band NO SPIN, and with him, he brought raw new energy to their tracks that sparked almost immediate fame. Ji-Woon lived in a daze of interviews and adoration, and though the frenzied schedule exhausted his bandmates, he was invigorated by it. Each day was an affirmation that he was greater than the mediocrity society spewed out.

But one person can only take so much pressure. Fame or no fame, Ji-Woon and his bandmates were still drilled on being more than perfect. It may not have taken its toll on him as physically as it had his friends, but those around Ji-Woon could see the change. There was a different spark in his eyes. A spark that would set everything ablaze. Including them.

They screamed out his name as the fire spread through the studio. Smoke filled their lungs as they pounded on the window for him to free them, their escape blocked by fallen speakers. Yet, as he stood there, seemingly frozen in his spot as he stared at the heavy equipment. . .he backed away from them. Ji-Woon’s back soon faced them as he ignored their cries as he quickly made his escape.

To Ji-Woon world had become stale; the fame, the fortune, the attention, all of it was becoming background noise. It was old news, he needed something new in his life, and fate had granted him the change he desired. The death of his bandmates reinvigorated him and his new solo career. No longer was he just part of NO SPIN, now all the eyes would be on him, The Trickster. He rode on the attention his bandmates gave him, moving him into a prosperous career as a solo artist and producer; a wild child with a soft heart hidden beneath the glam.

Something, however, was growing within Ji-Woon; something akin to the embers of obsession. The last words his friends had called out had been his name. Their voices were the fuel that fanned the embers. He needed to hear those cries again, the feeling they sparked in him filled the empty cavity that the staleness had started to create.

But no one could see it, not even through his eyes, the gateway to the soul. A decade of being taught how to be perfect made it an effortless task to hide what had begun to burn within him.

The first time he killed it was at random, a spur of the moment. An open window. A fire escape. A bat to her skull. Gagged and bound, he played with her, dissecting her alive on her bed like a frog. But something was not right, there was no satisfaction in it. All Ji-Woon got from her was muffled cries and please, not the screams and wails he had craved.

But Ji-Woon learned and he adapted. He changed his tactics, from breaking in to abduction. It wasn’t hard for him to find a secluded area to do his dirty work, far from where anyone would hear and soundproof enough to hide the cries he let ring from his victims. Each kill was recorded, each sound was utilized and hidden into the music that he produced. But he did not stop with just incorporating the wails of his victims into his music; Ji-Woon began to leave a trail of breadcrumbs with each murder, a mink boa from a photoshoot around a slashes throat, teeth plucked out to mimic the mouth of a boxer that had appeared in a recent music video.

But he was not garnering the amount of attention he wanted from it. So he struck closer to home. The idol turned his attention to a fan who had recently come to a VIP meeting with him, she was to be his next victim. He brutalized her, keeping her restrained as he beat her. The fan’s wails when he carved his blade through the flesh of her breasts as he slowly spelled out I HAVE SEEN GOD sent shivers down his spine. Ji-Woon waited patiently as she neared death before he struck again. He drove his fingers into her eye sockets gauging the soft and squishy orbs from their holes, vitreous fluids leaking from one of them as it ruptured within his palm. In their place, he pressed the diamond cufflinks he had been wearing down into now empty sockets. There was a second where he paused, only to simply wipe the precious stones clean

But nothing lasts forever. Violence quickly became Ji-Woon’s preferred media of art. His obsession with the cries of death left him a mental wreck, all his focus being on planning and committing the gruesome murders. This, of course, did not play out well in the eyes of the executives. Though he may not have had the largest cut in the company’s revenue, his fame and audience still played a major role in the continued success of the production company.

They were going to give him one last chance. A last chance to create his magnum opus. If not, he was done. He was going to be cut off. Ji-Woon would go back to being nothing but a dying spark of what had been a bright career.

He was incandescent..

Exhaustion was driving his mind in circles of brutal attacks and complete focus on producing a hit with Yun-Jin. But it would be done, it would be his best performance yet. They would all see. The performance would be like none they had ever seen. And it would be their last.

Animosity swarmed in his chest as he strode to the performance room where he was greeted by the filth that sought to throw him out like dirty rubbish. Behind him the door clicked shut, the lock quietly being done to provide some privacy.

The clicks of the heels of his shoes echoed as he walked up to the stage. As the music began, it played like he had started with Yun-Jin, but it slowly faded into a vile and grisely beat. A twirl on his feet hid the motion of drawing a throwing knife from its hidden spot. None had even seen it escape his fingers until it was already lodged into the neck of one of the trash, blood spraying out and coating the desk and floor. It took Ji-Woon no time to fill the room with the stench of death as the blades flew from the tips of his fingers effortlessly, impaling and slicing through soft flesh. The only one who was left untouched by the whirlwind of death was Yun-Jin. She had been the person to drag him out from the grime of the masses. She would be the true VIP of his greatest performance yet.

There was no pause in Ji-Woon’s wave of violence as a dark cloud formed on the floor of the room. Fiery yellow eyes turned to Yun-Jin. She now would have his full attention, and his her’s. She had frozen to her chair the entire time, watching in dreaded awe. He settled the razor tip of a bloodied throwing knife under her pretty chin, tilting her head up towards his face. Gore drenched his clear skin.

But that scared look on her face disappeared as a dark fog began to swallow the room, her lips pursing as she spat in his face just as she was consumed by the plume of inky darkness. A roar of pure rage crawled out Ji-Woon’s throat as he swiped at the empty chair as he too was swallowed in the cloud.

It was not heaven nor hell, nor anywhere in between. It was a land entirely of its own. A stage with thousands of eyes watching him. A stage with many sets. Hunting grounds to make his prey scream beautiful notes for all to hear. All he had to do was accept and the only death in his story would be the continued slaughter of his victims.

His stage is The Fog, and all eyes are on him.

[sserpente]

Pastel Blue (Chapter 6)

A/N: I hate how I have barely had any time to write lately! In all honesty, moving to a different country is quite  the challenge! 😂 I hope you enjoy the new chapter, I can’t wait to dive back into writing excessively, haha! ♥

Jess breathed out, watching how the warm air turned into fog. It was way too chilly down here. She had asked Mobius to install some radiators months ago but he wouldn’t listen. Loki on the other hand seemed to have no problem with the cold at all. He strutted next to her like he owned the place, with his head held high and a dark expression on his face.

M had a point. Despite the collar, it was a risk bringing Loki to a party of all things. But then again… she would be sure to laugh if he jumbled up the celebrations. Dave deserved it, kind of. Frankly, he could be a dick sometimes.

Loki smirked to himself. Her dress was green, with thin shoulder straps and a heart-shaped neckline. He offered her his arm when they stepped into the cafeteria, bathing in the mistrustful looks the whole of TVA eyed them with.

Mobius was stood at the buffet table, holding a glass filled with vodka and a green olive swimming in it in one hand while the other was buried in his pocket. The tawdry music, the chatting and the constant clattering of plates and cutlery made it nearly impossible for him to make out what the senior manager was saying now.

Warily, Loki glared him down. He was either oblivious to his excellent hearing, stupid enough to discuss such clandestine matters in the hallway or… or he meant for him to eavesdrop. Loki held on to the thought. He trusted him to feed him pathetic bits and pieces of information to keep him on his toes, to throw him small bones like a starved dog.

What if he was cleverer than he assumed he was? If he had incited Jess to spend time with him, make him believe she was on his side when she secretly ran off every day to tell Mobius about his behaviour like a child in day-care? If he used her to keep him on a leash in this godforsaken place? Loki gnashed his teeth.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” He mocked when he spotted him. The Trickster narrowed his eyes at him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jess rolling hers. Either way, he would not allow them to manipulate him and instead turn the tables. He was the master of mischief, after all.

“Enjoy yourself while you still can, Loki.” Dave added. “There’s a high chance you’ll kick the bucket next week.”

Jess rolled her eyes once more—or perhaps she was still rolling them, Loki was unsure. His eyes darted over to Mobius again, noticing with both dismay and an odd feeling of satisfaction making itself comfortable in his guts how the senior manager studied their interlinked arms.

A thin smile formed on his lips. Oh yes. Whatever your play is, I will turn it against you and I will burn this entire place to the ground until all you have left is a pile of ash and Jess—lovely and delicate Jess—will help me do so whether she is willing or not.

“Suck it up, Dave.” Jess barked. “Do you drink coke?” She continued sweetly then, directed at Loki.

“I beg your pardon?” He leaned forward slightly—close enough for her nostrils to be filled with his scent like she was some goddamn predator sensing its prey. If anything, Loki would be the predator in this scenario. She was but a lamb compared to him—a lamb who could kick his shin but a lamb nonetheless.

“Coke. Black fizzy drink, very sweet, spiked with Whiskey—not normally but definitely tonight.” She cleared her throat and winked at him and, much to his own surprise, his heart skipped a beat upon the flirty gesture. Perhaps this was the very reason he let her grab his arm and drag him away from both Mobius and Dave to plunder the bar.

“Don’t let her get drunk!” He heard Mobius call after him. Loki frowned.

Whoever was playing bartender tonight and doing a terribly slow job with that, Jess paid them no attention. Unceremoniously, she leaned over the counter, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey. Granted, Loki knew nothing of Midgardian drinks and how there were properly mixed, he had a feeling, however, that more than half of the glass filled with Whiskey was not the proper way to mix a delightful alcoholic refreshment.

At least, so he had to admit, the view was a rather delectable one, with her backside wiggling around right before his eyes. He suppressed a dark chuckle.

Once she had tapped the faucet pouring a dark brown liquid to mix with the Whiskey and handed him one, she grinned, heaving herself up onto the counter completely and resting her feet on the barstool.

“Skål!” She announced, winking once more. Loki took a sip to conceal how thickly he had to swallow. As expected, the coke-Whiskey-mixture tasted horrible. His face distorted, making Jess laugh.

“There’s no Asgardian ale in this place, I’m afraid. Do you dance? You’re the God of Mischief, you must be dancing.”

Loki raised his eyebrows in response. “Is that all you will do at this so-called party? Drink and dance and then drink some more?”

Jess shrugged. “Never let anyone tell you that alcohol is not the solution. I’ve had some amazing nights forgetting my own name. So?” She downed her drink, slamming the empty glass on the counter so forcefully he feared it would break under the impact. “Do you dance?”

The music, whatever it was, was too slow for Jess’ taste. She’d much rather listen to some techno hits, and some Hip Hop and Dubstep hits to move her body to. It almost felt a little like space. A place to lose herself in, utterly and wholly, a place making her stronger rather than taking her energy away from her.

But Dave had always had a very uninspiring music taste and, given it was his anniversary, the music was unlikely to change anytime soon. Loki’s lips parted when she took his glass from his hand and downed it too. Neither of them expected the jolt of electricity rippling through them when she took his hand and entangled her fingers with his to pull him towards the middle of the cafeteria where Minutemen of all departments, scientists and even some of the security were moving to the music.

“That’s an interesting development after all, don’t you think?” Loki heard Dave say. Jess swirled them both around, her blue eyes closed in an attempt to dream herself into a reality where she could go out with her friends and lose her mind in a dimly lit nightclub surrounded and desired by both men and women alike. She would drink until she had forgotten about her parents and until she had lost her grasp on reality to enter space and be free and independent. Jess did not allow herself to dream often these days, for when she did… the urge to escape this place once more and turn her back on Mobius rose to an extent it brought her physical pain to resist.

“Well, he is charismatic. That doesn’t mean anything, does it? Jess has a weakness for bad boys and Loki is pretty much the definition of that.”

“Please. Thor’s little brother, how strong could he possibly be without his beloved sceptre?” Dave snorted.

“I wouldn’t underestimate him, especially not this variant. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think he’d be of use. He’s smart. He doesn’t trust us.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mobius shrug. “We have a good reason not to trust him either. Not yet, at least. I’ve studied his entire life, remember?”

“You are not seriously thinking about removing that collar at some point, are you?”

Loki growled, lest he could not decide whether it was because of how good his palm felt against the small of Jess’ back or the way Dave and Mobius kept talking about him behind his back.

“Now I thought you said he couldn’t possibly be that strong without the sceptre?” Dave replied nothing to that. He did not need to. Mobius had made it clear enough that he was the figure of authority here. There was no way, however, he was going to be able to concentrate on this devilish bureaucrat and his ridiculous attempts to manipulate him as long as Jess’ body was rubbing against his in the most wicked ways. This woman, human or not, knew exactly what she was doing, regardless of the alcohol already clouding her system.

He smirked when another song ended and there was a moment of silence in his heart upon the lack of a loud bass reverberating in his chest. Jess opened her eyes in an almost luscious manner and took his hand once more to pour herself another drink.

He liked the way she took charge. Apart from Sif, she was so unlike all the Asgardian women he had known during his time in the realm he grew up in. Jess was neither offering him her devotion nor was she withholding her affection. His heart jumped upon remembering how she had hugged him in the bathroom. Peculiar.

While she emptied another repulsive coke-and-whiskey-mixture, his eyes caught another buffet table positioned at the other end of the room—one he had not seen upon first entering this absurd get-together.

“What is this?” Jess spun around.

“What is what?”

“This.” He pointed at the table. The cooks had outdone themselves with the number of bowls full of fruit neatly chopped up—the highlight, however, was the massive chocolate fountain bubbling away peacefully and luring every passer-by into tasting it.

“Have you never seen a chocolate fountain before?”

Loki frowned, making Jess chuckle. Heavens, if he keeps doing that, his face might stay like that, she thought.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Once within reach of the buffet table, she treated herself to a strawberry that she stabbed with one of the provided plastic toothpicks and coated it with chocolate. She grinned when Loki’s smirk returned and copied her with the sole difference of picking a grape instead.

“How does this thing operate?”

“Well, I’m not an engineer but as far as I’m concerned, you pour molten chocolate into the fountain, which is electric, and the pump inside will make sure to keep it flowing. Apparently, Asgard is not as advanced as I thought it was. Chocolate fountains are extremely important for one’s emotional wellbeing, you know.” Jess downed the Whiskey glass she had taken with her. “And so is alcohol. Are you gonna stay here all evening now?”

“I just might.” Loki winked.

“Suit yourself.” She announced, holding up her empty glass. “I’m getting another drink.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes and snatched her upper arm, holding it tightly enough for to gasp—and not in a terrified or intimidated way, so he noticed. But either way, he was not going to let her poison herself.

“You’ve had enough, don’t you think?” He snarled, snatching the glass from her.

“Excuse me? Give that back.”

“No. I said you’ve had enough.”

“I’m supposed to supervise you, not the other way around! Now give that back.”

Loki scoffed. “You’ll do a marvellous job with that, all drunk and out of your mind.”

Heavens, not again. Jess gasped for air—a desperate sound swallowed by the loud music and the bass vibrating in her chest. Loki caught it nonetheless. There it was, this figurative magnet, this invisible rope tying him to her like a bloody lap dog.

It was genuine concern purling in his stomach, he did know this much. Regardless of Mobius’ half-hearted request, Loki certainly did not want Jess to get drunk and damage her liver beyond repair. Mortals were fragile as was and yet here they were, stuffing themselves with ridiculous amounts of sugar and fat, spending all day watching silly TV shows and pouring alcohol down their throats like it was water from Mimir’s fountain itself.

“I dare you…” He murmured, his composure on the edge of a steep cliff threatening to overwhelm him, rip all control from him. Jess leaned back some more, a feeble attempt to escape his advances that she did not wish to refuse altogether. “I dare you.” He repeated, jumping in at the deep end if anything to quench the curiosity and feel what his body and, for Heaven’s sake, even his mind had been longing for. What had he to lose? “Kiss me. I know you have been thinking about it.”

He pulled her close again and this time, he was certain to have heard a whimper. Loki’s cock stirred, even more so when she turned her head away and his nose brushed against her cheek.

“Is it Mobius?” He purred. Jess struggled to form a proper sentence in response or even breathe evenly. Eventually, she nodded. “I believe… I believe we have both had enough of this party, have we not?”

Jess bit her lower lip and glanced behind herself. M was engrossed in a conversation with Ravonna Renslayer, the badass time judge she never interacted with much. Well… she certainly was none of her concern now.

“Quick,” she breathed out, “before they notice us leaving.”

 ~*~

You are a grown woman. Loki is a handsome man. It’s obvious the chemistry between you is right. You’re sexually attracted to him and he just confirmed that the feeling is mutual. This is not your first one-night stand. It might not be your last. God, I hope it’s not my last. That man is literally not from this world.

“What are you doing?” Jess snapped herself out of her thoughts when Loki stopped in front of one of the control rooms. The walls were made entirely of glass, revealing a bored security officer staring at about a dozen computer screens in utter darkness. “He’ll see us!”

Loki narrowed his eyes and huffed when he found what he was looking for—the camera monitoring Jess’ unit. Ah… this was indeed perfect. Just like he had suspected. He could see the sofa and the unmade sheets on top of it, and the coffee table with countless peanut bags on it. But even without his powers, nobody would see him sneak along the wall and into Jess’ bedroom.

“Loki?”

“There is a dead angle in your unit.”

“So?” He winked again, making her lower regions clench. When he simply kept on walking, she rushed after him like a cat knowing it was about to be fed.

~*~

A/N: Muhahaha. In case anyone is interested what song Loki and Jess danced to, you can find it right here!