#me: forgets to tag grandthorki

[grandthorkiday]

~ Grandthorki Day ~ Seven More Days ~

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"Shut UP!" Loki cried, throwing the bottle to the ground. It broke, alcohol and glass spraying everywhere. Sparkles scrambled back and yelped. 

That only made him more upset. "You don't get to make feel sorry for you! You drove me away! I had to make a life here! Even if it was a lie! Why did you come here?! WHY DID YOU COME HERE?! WHY COULDN'T YOU LET ME FORGET?!" 

He fell to the floor, cutting one of his hands on the glass. It hardly mattered. He sobbed into the floor among the glass, dregs of alcohol, and colorful toys.  All hail King Loki, where he belonged. Lest he ever forgot.

~from The Choices Made by @red-shadow-wolf-19

[loxxxlay]

**tw my personal stance on noncon in fiction, mentions of RL**

I want people to understand that when I talk about noncon (or other various triggers) in fiction, I tag it. So on a post tagged noncon or even grandthorki for ts, I’m gonna assume everyone seeing it is not triggered by it. I’m gonna talk about it casually and likely veer into flippant territory. Because real life sucks, and this is my safe space where I don’t have to remember that rape is a thing that happens in real life and or stress over this overwhelming culture enabling it or constantly feel the need to challenge society. I can just be myself. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to feel ashamed there. Especially not over fictional characters. Not when there’s plenty of shame to feel everywhere else.

So if the subject or even my attitude while talking about fictional noncon triggers you, then that’s fine. <3 Blacklist/filter the hell out of it; take care of yourself, friend.  

Just understand that outside of that safe space? I do advocate for actual survivors, both male and female, I do challenge the culture of victim blaming, and I do stand in solidarity with those who are survivors - even when that costs me friendships (which it has). As a survivor myself, I am capable of handling the subject with the tact and grace expected of me, and outside of tumblr, I use that capability. IRL, this is the area of activism that I am most passionate about.

So just because you only see one side of me, don’t assume that the “lol this is fun to torture them” attitude extends to places that don’t have trigger warnings. Or that it’s my attitude regarding real life experiences at all.

The person who commented last night wasn’t following me and made a judgment call based on absolutely no knowledge of me lol, so I couldn’t care less about him. But I have been wanting to clear the air in general lately, because as I have been growing more and more comfortable, I’m worrying people will forget that it is my safe space. so yeah mostly to soothe my own anxiety XD

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 24

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

Note from @loxxxlay: MOB ANON HAS REVEALED THEMSELVES!! They are @red-shadow-wolf-19 and they have plans to write more Grandthorki in the future! Go follow them for more of their fics <3

They dragged him out of the bedroom when it was announced on the news the next morning. He knelt in front of the large flat screen, amongst the games controllers that had been his brother’s solice, and watched as the a newscaster said in a sympathetic but efficient manner, “Thor Valhalla was found this morning in critical condition after what appears to be an assault. He was rushed to a hospital but pronounced dead on arrival. He was thirty two.”

“The Brat is dead! Long live the Brat!” Mario crowed, and the crew laughed.

Gast used one finger to lift Loki’s face to his. “You always have your exit strategy, sweetheart. Remember?” He said it almost kindly.

“M-may I go back to the bedroom?”

Back away from the crew and stares, Loki bent over the toilet and threw up in peace. He sobbed into the tile floor, aware that no one this time would come in and stroke his hair or hold him or sing some stupid song from their childhood. It was just him now.

They next day, they dragged him out again. This time because he had to cook breakfast. Life goes on.

Gast began making the rounds on the radio shows, calling in to dramatically cry about the death of one of his lost soulmates. He kept Loki in his lap, hugging him close like a stuffed animal. Occasionally the host would ask after the brunette. Grandmaster’s eyes would flick up to his, and he would politely look away. “In no fit state to talk to anyone, sadly.”

Naturally, that really wasn’t the case. Around three o'clock, Loki found a phone being shoved in his face as he laid on the bed.

“Call the hospital. Tell them you want the body. You can do that, you’re family.” There was an emphasis on ‘family’ that made his skin crawl, but he took the phone and did as he was told. Thor had told him to be good.

[read more cut]

The hospital, unfortunately, was making it difficult. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Valhalla, but Mr. Thor Valhalla’s body was released to your Father already. You will have to speak to him and your sister. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I-I am his…,” he could barely say the words. He’d wanted to scream them for the last six to seven years, and now he barely had the energy to form a syllable.

“I’m so sorry.”

When he hung up and explained the situation, the slap to the face was almost welcome. “Call your sister! I want his body!”

Thor would have cheekily asked why he hadn’t kept it. He would have couched it as a light-hearted question. Loki simply dialled from memory Hela’s number and said nothing.

“I want Thor’s body,” he said with preamble once she answered the phone.

“Oh, Loki! I-”

“Please, Hela. I want to bury him. We-” he glanced at Gast who looked back at him expectantly, “we want to bury him.”

“After he-”

“He’s my husband, Hela…we got married. Did you know that? I’m legally allowed to have a say over what happens to his…remains.”

“I know, Loki. He told us.”

Loki took a shakey breath, the painful reminder of why Thor wasn’t there twisting in gut like a knife. “Hela, don’t make me fight you in court. Don’t make him fight you. Please, right now…”

“Daddy wants to bury Thor too.” It was said quickly, cutting him off.

“Near Mom?” he couldn’t help the hope that entered his voice.

“N-no. Um…he’s having Thor cremated and buried in another plot.” There was a quick and muffled dialogue on the other end of the phone before she came back. “I suppose we could um…share….him. Split the ashes.”

Loki felt like vomiting again. “Split the ashes?” He glanced at the Grandmaster who shrugged and nodded his assent. “O-okay.”

They arranged when he would come to pick up the ashes. Hela tried to invite him to their private funeral service, but he hung up on her instead. He had to be good. He had to survive. Grandmaster kissed his forehead and tucked him into bed for that.

That’s when he brought 'the trophy’ out. Loki nearly screamed and fled the bedroom, but he forced himself to remain where he was. The older man placed the glass container of strange viscous liquid on the bedside counter. The blue iris of Thor’s eye looked unreal and otherworldly, the veins and disconnected tissue floating out like tentacles or rays of lightning. Loki looked at it in morbid fascination.

“I said, it was his best feature,” Gast said simply, running a finger down the side of the glass.

“Yes.”

“Well one of his best features. But you can’t persevere an ass.”

“That’s why you called him Sparkles. Because of his eyes.”

“It’s not like he shot lightning or something.”

“May I keep his things? At least his drawings?”

“I guess. But keep them somewhere neat. I don’t want them everywhere,” he reached over and laid out three more items: a needle, a small bag of blue crystals, and a lighter. He left, without another word as Loki took them.

~2020~

He honestly couldn’t remember clearly the last few months. He remembered the funeral. Gast had made an emotional fifteen minute eulogy before bringing him to the front of the packed church to speak. He stood at the lectern, stuttering out something unintelligible before breaking down into sobs at the sight of the blown up picture of Thor. He had been gathered into the Grandmaster’s embrace, though they didn’t leave the altar. The cameras and the world needed to see him.

After that, his life was series of color and moments of sobriety. He tried to stay away from harder stuff, keeping mostly to alcohol and weed, but Gast kept giving him the crystals when he got 'too weepy’. He now slept and lived permanently in the master bedroom. He didn’t have to cook much anymore, mostly because no one trusted him around a stove. But he was good. Perfect. So they couldn’t complain.

Sometimes, he could forget everything. Gast would hold him in his lap during one of the numerous meetings, and Loki would simply exist, as though he had been willed into being just to please this man. Then, he would catch sight of the bar, or maybe something would brush across his cheek and it would come all crashing back. He would hug the man closer, for there was no one else he was allowed to touch anymore, and he would be given a glass of alcohol to keep quiet.

“My poor Lo Lo. All alone now.” He forgets when this was said to him exactly, but the ridiculous sweater he remembers Gast wearing made him think of Christmas. “Maybe I should get you a buddy. An itsy bitsy friend?”

He remembers the tablet being pushed into his face so he could stare at a Facebook page. The kid barely looked out of high school, standing in his board shorts and tank top, his brown hair being picked up by a breeze. He had a wide innocent smile as showed off a farmer’s tan. The photo was posted by Peter Parker, with a caption 'this boi thirsty! For lemonade it’s hooooott’ followed by a confusing jumble of emojis.

Loki had felt his stomach twist and an emotion akin to jealousy and guilt with a twinge of nostalgia settle there. But he was good. Perfect. So he had said as brightly as possible, “He’s cute!”

“I knew you would like him!” Grandmaster had cooed, as though he had picked out a puppy. He had kissed Loki so sweetly, again he almost forget everything. Even Thor’s eye still on the bedside counter.

Loki was slightly drunk when the police finally came to arrest the Grandmaster. They had been expected, but late. To the mobster’s delight he had made quite a scene. They had been at a restaurant, watching Peter, Loki still stalling the inevitable when they had came, led by Bruce Banner. He had tried to scratch the cuffs away and nearly punched Bruce’s face. To the man’s credit, he had been very gentle and guided him back to his seat before continuing. Gast naturally was home the next day, already gloating.

This time the DA did not push for a gag order. They seemed rather unconcerned with what the Grandmaster said or did. And he took full advantage of that fact.

“We’re still mourning our Thor and they do this! After his family would not come to the funeral!”

“Awful,” the interviewer said, shaking her head sympathetically. “Loki, do you have anything to add.”

“Why are they doing this to us? Haven’t…haven’t we lost enough?” He broke down with each word. They didn’t cut away as he choked and sobbed. It made for good television, he supposed.

When they DA announced they had a secret witness, there was a large meeeting in the penthouse about who it was. No one suspected Loki; he rarely left the apartment anymore, and if he could get away with it he stayed mostly in the bedroom. Besides, the secret witness was apparently in protective custody. Anyone who was late or didn’t attend the meeting immediately fell under suspicion and fingers were pointed even at those who showed up early. It was utter chaos. Gast loved it. Loki slipped away to the bedroom with a bottle of wine.

The day of the opening of the trial, Loki was woken up and made to put on the clothes he had worn at the funeral. They were a little too big on him now, he had lost some weight since then, but he still looked impressive. His eyes were bloodshot from all the drinking and drugs, so they gave him a pair of sunglasses.

“Can you even walk a straight line,” Gast asked him mockingly. He could, but his hands shook. They gave him a flask for his pocket and a packet of cigarettes. He didn’t have a wallet or cellphone anymore. He hadn’t since Thor died. All the money under his and his husband’s old mattress had been taken and redistributed to the penthouse crew, except for a hundred dollars which Loki had used for his last solo trip in the city to pick up Thor’s ashes.

The courthouse was packed with the press and the public when they arrived. Gast waved good-humoredly at them as they entered. He made a big production of helping Loki to his seat, kissing and fawning over him. He let the sunglasses dip for a moment so people could see his eyes. Naturally, the press would assume it was because of tears not alcohol. Topaz settled in next to him, a more 'comforting’ figure than Mario.

Stark and Romanov entered, ignoring the press as they went to their table. They spoke in low voices and passed a cellphone and a tablet back and forth between them. Loki didn’t pay attention, keeping his eyes forward on Gast and trying to memorize the New York seal on the judge’s bench.

“All rise!” called the bailiff. The courthouse stood as a small heavily whiskered man soon and settled himself in the high bench. “The Honorable Patel preceding.”

“Sit down,” the judge said, fiddling with papers on his desk as the courthouse sat. “I will hear opening statements. Mr. Stark?”

The ADA stood and spoke very succinctly. They had evidence of weapon trafficking as well as drug trafficking. They also had evidence of sexual and physical assault, and conspiracy to attempt murder. Gast, he explained rather dryly, was a danger to the city and society and had manipulated his way out of justice before. “Hopefully, he won’t this time. With your help,” he concluded, thanking the jury.

Gast’s lawyer stood as soon as Stark sat and began to dramatically recount the last year: the DA’s first attempt to sully the Grandmaster by manipulating his lover, Loki which resulted in Loki’s suicide attempt. The brunette shifted uncomfortably in his seat at being part of this, but he made no move to shield himself from view. Then, he spoke about losing Thor to thugs collecting a gambling debt. Bile rose in his throat at that, but he pushed it down. He was good. Perfect.

“And now, DA is dragging this man and his loved ones back into court not four months after burying his beloved as some sick way to get votes. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have the poor to end this! Listen to the weakness of this case, and then find En Dwi Gast not guilty!” A few people in the gallery clapped, causing the judge to bang his gavel a few times.

“Stark, are you ready to proceed with your secret witness?”

“Already? Blowing your load a little early, aren’t you?” Gast quipped. The gallery laughed. The gavel fell.

“This is not an open mic night. Please refrain from comments. Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded, dialled a number on his phone and said a few words. A side door opened. The room gasped.

Loki didn’t look at first. He was good. Perfect. But finally when Gast gasped as well, he swiveled his head robotically around. He let out a cry.

Thor stood, supporting himself on a cane and Valkyrie’s arm. He had an eye patch his left eye and his hair had gotten a little longer than the Grandmaster ever let it grow. Every step he made to the witness box was slow and pained, but he barely seemed to care. His one eye found the defense side of the room and he glared with venom at the older man.

Loki’s limbs moved on their own. He stood, knocking over Topaz. By the time the woman had recovered, he had walked out of the gallery. Gast was calling to him, using all the sweet nicknames he had. It made not an ounce of difference. The judge was saying something and the bailiff tried to intercept him but Val had waved him off as Stark shouted to be heard.

He was standing in front of Thor, the sun streaming over them from the high windows. Thor’s expression had softened as he had gotten closer. He was crying now, reaching out to him, stroking his face tenderly like he had the last time they had seen one another. Loki took the hand before launching into his arms, nearly knocking him to the ground.

The brothers held one another for several moments, the courtroom holding their breath as they spoke in hushed and hurried voices. Finally, the younger let go, turning to Stark. He spoke in a watery voice slightly hoarse from months of crying, drinking, and disuse.

“Can I be added to the witness list, too?”

[loxxxlay]

New followers, hiiii, thank you <333

Pleaseeee please please check out this blacklisting page, because I post a lot of weird shit and triggers. This blog does post but is not only for brotherly thor&loki stuff (i.e. thorki, frostmaster, dubcon, noncon).

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If I don’t follow you back and you reblog a lot of marvel stuff, don’t feel bad. It’s probably because it includes characters or meta I don’t want to see regularly (i.e. ragnarok discourse, discourse that mocks loki fans, etc), or you don’t tag things unrelated to marvel. T_T sorry my dash can only survive so much XD

If you write me grandthorki, I will literally suck your dick or whatever else you want me to do.