#never enough loki media

[abitdragonobsessed]

Tried to do Loki in the Spider verse style but I don't think I was very successful

[technically-a-kiwi]

And so the cosmic AU story continues, this time focusing on the characters

So like I said on previous post, Peppino and The Noise are one of the many cosmic duos of the cosmic realm and have the immense responsability of watching over several universes, of course thankfully watching over universes isn't a full time job and both have a part time job in the cosmic realm.

Peppino continues his job as a pizzamaker, this time being completly free of debt and only doing it out of passion.

Technically, cosmic entities don't fuel from food so eating is not nececary .But they don't care, they love Peppino's pizzas and Peppino loves making pizzas so everybody wins

As for The Noise, he remains being a TV host, exept due to now being a cosmic entity, his chanel is now only broadcasted in the cosmic realm, on top of not being able to broadcast outside the cosmic realm, he isn't allowed to diverge into any other type of media like movies, comic series etc, to make sure his image doesn't slip pass the cosmic realm. And so by being a TV host that exclusively broadcasts in the cosmic realm, The Noise is litteraly the only source of entertainment you could possibly find in the entire realm.

If you dare say outloud that you dislike his show, The Noise will make sure you'll have an "actual reason" for you to dislike his show, if you know what I mean

Got nothin much to say now... Hum... Oh ! Yeah ! I haven't quite developed on our cosmic duo nor how they are as a cosmic entity have I ? Well better late then never right x) ?

For starters, Peppino.

As a cosmic entity, Peppino is (surprisingly) quite peaceful and mostly stays in his pizzeria in the cosmic realm, only interacting with his clients and occasionaly with Gustavo.

When first turning into a cosmic entity, it screwed him up quite a lot, not only did he have to process his actual death, he also had to process being in a whole new body with immense powers and brand new responsibilities he never asked for. This gave him a whole existencial crisis making him loose most of his sanity and making him into an even bigger lunatic then usual, thankfully overtime he reached to other cosmic entities who then helped him overcome his dread, slowly getting better control over his stress and bipolarity allowing to partially regain a sense of control and stability (yeah I know it's a little edgy but hey the whole AU itself is far-fetched so who cares at this point). Now he enjoys just taking things slow and appreciate the little things, such as making pizzas for others, taking naps in some deserted pastures and stargazing on top of his roof. He still has a long way to go to fully regain his sanity and stability, but the cosmic court considers his state is good enough to be handled the fate of several universes.

During his shift as a cosmic duo. Peppino is quite efficient, miraculously despite his stress and instability he always gets the job done, he does make mistakes here and there such as not being able to keep a low-profile at all or purposly exposing himself to others which is something cosmic entities must avoid at all cost.

Now bring The Noise

As a cosmic entity, The Noise is a freaking menace, fully embracing his new title of cosmic entity to mess up with people around the multiverse, using his new powers to satisfy his urge of being the ultimate prankster, one might say he his the Loki of the cosmic realm. He mostly gets away with anything he does due to the cosmic court being a huge fan of his show (much to every other cosmic entities displeasure).

When first turning into a cosmic entity, The Noise was confused on why he respawn with such a different look. As soon as he learned he had the powers of a cosmic entity, The Noise started pranking people around the multiverse, he seaked the title of ultimate prankster and for that neaded notoriety, thus The Noise's Nebula Show was born ! As time went on his channel became less of a prank channel and more of an entertaining channel. The Noise started doing other stuff on the side out of curiosity which he found quite pleasant and directly incorporated those things in his channel,slowly becoming more diversed and interesting, using his maniac and cocky nature to become the most charismatic, lively (and only) TV host the cosmic realm has ever seen. Due to The Noise originating from the same universe as cosmic Peppino, they got paired up to become a cosmic duo, much to The Noise's displeasure, it was hard enough to bear the existance of that potato looking head when he was in the same room as him, and now he has to WORK WITH HIM ? He knew such pairing would ultimatly lead to disaster, but he did it anyway, after all he's not gonna say no to having the front sit at seing Peppino's misery and struggles.

During his shift as a cosmic duo. The Noise barely does anything, he usualy stays in the back while smoking a cigar and lets Peppino do the job, he's not going to do any kind of rescuing, that would deteriorate his status of ultimate prankster! In the rare cases where his presence is absolutly needed, he solve the problem in the most ridiculous or incovinente way possible, usualy rushing it, he doesn't really care about others safety, as long as he get's the job done that's all that matters to him.

And here it is y'all ! Truly sorry if my sentences makes no sense whatsoever, I did this post very late at night like an idiot and I'm running out of water and motivation x)

Like the last post if you have any kind of question don't hesitate to ask me I'll be glad to answer all of them.

Now I'll give u some art I didn't know where to put in the post, enjoy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: what up my slutty butties!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You help Leslie bring out the plates. You set one before Mr. Laufeyson as Leslie puts one down before an empty chair. You can hear your dad muttering at his puzzle. Your boss is unfazed as he smugly sits waiting.

"Offer him something to drink while I get your father," Leslie lowers her voice, turning her back to your guest, "I know you didn't have a mother around but have some common courtesy."

You flinch, injured by her unnecessary remark. Sometimes she says things that sting, just like your father. You suppose that's why they get along so well. She sidesteps you and enters the front room, announcing her presence gaily as she calls your father's name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you face him sheepishly, "would you like something to drink?"

"I suppose you haven't any cabernet," he snorts. You clamp your lip tightly in humiliation. "I am driving so I suppose it wouldn't matter, you have water, yes? It will suffice."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer and spin away, fleeing to the kitchen behind the shield of the simple task.

You take a glass from the cupboard, checking to make sure it's clear and clean, and fill it from the filtered jug in the fridge. You return to the dining room as Leslie helps your father in. He bats her hand off his arm and grunts as he drops into an empty chair across from Mr. Laufeyson. You put the water in front of your boss and peek over at your dad.

"Dad, do you want something--"

"No," he barks as he snatches his fork, poking at the seasoned turnip, "what is this shit?" He sniffs, "smells like garbage."

You sit and balance at the edge of your chair, not paying any mind to the food before you.

"Charlies, don't be rude," Leslie claims a seat of her own, "Loki's mother was so kind to send this over to us."

"I don't know her," your father growls.

"Can't complain for free food, can we?" Leslie girds gently and sends a smile to Laufeyson, "it's been a tough day for him. The humidity really bothers him."

"Would you be quiet?" Your father snaps, "I can speak for myself and I'm just damn fi--"

Your father breaks out into another storm of coughs. He hits the table and braces it, his fork clattering as he struggles to catch his breath. Mr. Laufeyson sits placidly, picking up his knife and fork, and cutting into the pork loin.

"My, you do sound rather terrible," he says as he pokes a morsel of meat in the air on the tines. 

"He'll be fine, he just needs to catch his breath," Leslie assures.

"Mm, have you thought of an air purifier? It might do this place some good?" Laufeyson suggests with a curl of his lip, biting into the pork.

"Mr. Fucking Fancy Pants," your dad slaps his own chest as he finds his voice, "what do you know? You ain't some doctor walking in here telling me how to breathe."

"I have several degrees so I could claim the title, I suppose," Laufeyson taunts, "I always thought it a bit pompous, however."

"Ah, go off and buy another set of tits," your father snarls.

"You are such a loving father, aren't you?" Laufeyson goads.

"Good enough to know yours never smacked you hard enough," your dad retorts.

Silence. You look at Leslie as she peers between the men, a frigid smile frozen on her face. You bat your lashes as you teeter and grip the table.

Your dad takes his fork again and scoops up a soft chunk of turnip. He puts it in his mouth, making a face as he tastes it then gags and spits it out. It flies across the table onto Laufeyson's plate. Your brows rise as Leslie's expression mirrors your shock.

"Tastes like garbage too. That mother of yours must be just as much a disappointment to your father as you," your dad chortles at his own insult, hacking into another fit.

Mr. Laufeyson sets his fork down. He sighs and slides his plate away. He stares down your father as he sets his back straight.

"As much as you are to your daughter, I'm sure."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you squeak.

"Get--" your father coughs and chokes, fighting to get to his feet, his stomach hitting the table and rattling the dishes, "the fuck--" cough -- "out of my house."

"Is that what you call this place?" Laufeyson remains seated, glancing around derisively.

Leslie gasps, "sir, now you are too much, we welcomed you in--"

"I wasn't aware your job included nursing his bruised ego," Laufeyson shoots in her direction, "don't remind me of etiquette. I brought you all more than the scraps you have in the back of that dingy fridge. Of course, you wouldn't have the taste or sense to know good food."

"I said GET OUT!" Your father hollers so hard he sways, his voice scratching at its peak.

"Dad," you stand up, "Mr. Laufeyson, please, you need to go--"

"Take your own advice," he stands and scoffs in your father's direction.

"Stop, please, he's my dad--"

"Oh yes, I've heard it before," Laufeyson sneers, "and I heard you beg him just the same before he--"

"No!" You exclaim, "no, leave. Now. Please--"

"You needn't convince me further," Mr. Laufeyson strides around the table, "Chuck," he stops next to your father as he puffs, grasping the chair for support, "try not to choke on your own vitriol."

He pats your dad arm, causing him to recoil and fall onto the chair. Leslie rushes over to him as you stand dumbfounded. You hoped the day wouldn't get worse and yet, you can't say you didn't expect it. Even so, it hits you like a car at full speed and knocks the wind out of you. You don't know what to do.

"Have a good night," Mr. Laufeyson says at the door, "however pleasant it could ever be in a rat-infested hole like this." He looks at you, "thank you for this lovely dinner."

He turns and struts out. You shake your head as adrenaline courses through you, burning around your lungs and hammering in your chest. You look over at your father as he continues to cough violently.

"Dad..." you try to go to him.

"Haven't you done enough?" Leslie snaps as she lashes you with a glare. You wince and stumble back.

"I didn't--"

"He's right about you, isn't he?" She snarls, "you're just an ungrateful brat."

"No--"

"Go!" Your father forces through his choking gasp, "you little bitch!"

Your lip trembles as the room spins. You twirl away without a second thought, horrified and humiliated. You run out into the hallway and barrel up the stairs, sobbing by the time you get to the top step. Mr. Laufeyson has ruined everything. Your job, your family, and your entire life.

You thought you had nothing before, how wrong you were.

✨

 You cry yourself to sleep, just like many nights before. Your head swirls with rippled visions of angry eyes and shadowy figures. You drown in the thick unconscious, nearly suffocated with terror as you're paralysed against the virulent nightmares.

You wake only as a crash splinters your sleep. You sit up, heaving for air as you see a dark figure eerily similar to the one in your dreams. You blink until you can, the light of the hallway glowing in the limn your father's portly figure.

He drags out the next drawer from your dresser and dumps it over the pile mounded on the floor. He staggers as he drops the plywood and kicks it aside. He leans on the handle of his oxygen tank as you reach for your lamp.

"Dad? What are you--"

He struggles to reach for the bottle by his feet. He lifts it and wobbles as he untwists the cap. He overturns the bottle of bleach onto the heap of clothes, kicking them around as the stringent chemical spills out. You watch as he ruins the layers of new clothing and cry out as you bounce to the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek.

"Whore's clothes," he tosses the bottle on top, "you... bring your pimp in here like the slut you are--"

"Dad," you whimper but have no words. He's not so far off after all. You look down at the clothes and the pale stains of the bleach patching across the fabric, "dad, I'm sorry. I tried-- I was only--"

"I don't care," he grits, "I'm done with you. You been..." he takes a deep breath, clasping his chest, "mooching off me for thirty years. You sucked the life outta me--" he gasps again, "look what you done to me," he tugs at the tube that trails down his chest, "this is your fault. You killed me just like you did your mother."

"No, no, no," you touch your cheeks as they burns and your tears fall free, "please, don't say that."

It's another nightmare. It has to be. You're still sleeping. This can't be real.

"Dad," you stand and reach for him, "don't be mad--"

He hits you. Not hard, he can't. He's too weak. You flinch and back away, cowering as you cradle your head. He looks around, his head bobbling and grabs the hardcover book from atop your dresser.

He nears you as you shrink down, stunned into helplessnness. He grips the book with both hands and swings it at you. The first strikes doesn't wake you. It's real. 

He hits you, over and over, the sharp corner jabbing into your cheek and chin, then the side thumping across your shoulder and against your side. He keeps on until he can't.

He drops the book and coughs, bending over as he slips to one knee. You watch him, tears streaming into your hands as you babble like a child. 

"Daddy," you murmur.

"You get out or I'll call... the goddamn... police," he braces the oxygen tank and forces himself up. "This isn't your home no more." He limps and drags the tank to the door, "it never was.”

✨

You don't know what to do. You can barely stop crying long enough to think. The heavy bags weigh down your steps as you wander mindlessly to the corner and stop, the reality of the moment crashing down like thunder.

You drop the duffle bag and sit on it, letting your work bag hit the pavement by your feet. The sun has barely come up as you sit in the dim hue of dawn. Where do you go?

You feel yourself sinking. Your lungs are reading to shrivel and your head is going to cave in. You're lost. You have no home, you have no father, you have nothing... well, you still have a job.

You cry a little longer, until you hear the first sign of life from across the street. You get up as a man comes of a house. He doesn't notice you as you hitch up your work bag and grab the duffle from the sidewalk. You just need somewhere for a night or two. Let dad cool off and you'll apologise. It will be okay.

You walk down to the main road and catch the first bus. You have no direction, no destination. You get off as you see the marquee of the Holiday Inn. You've never stayed in a hotel, hopefully they have room for you. It seems like no one does.

You shuffle inside, tired and worn out. There's a woman behind the front desk, sitting on a chair so you can only see the top of your head. You hobble over under the weigh of your bags and wait for her to notice you. When she doesn't, you tap the bell on the counter.

"Eh?" She stands up, almost tipping over, "sorry," she yawns, "didn't hear you come in."

"Mm," you hum and chew your lips, "that's okay. Erm..."

"Do you have a reservation? Bit early... or late, to be checking in."

"No, uh, I don't," you lower your eyes, "do you have anything available?"

"Sure we do," she answers chipperly. You look at her name tag; Mindy. "I got a few singles clean and ready."

"Okay, that's good," you answer, "how much?"

"Hundred and twenty for tonight. Credit on file or three hundred cash deposit."

"Oh," you try not show your surprise, "okay, I er, think I have enough but I don't have a credit card."

"Now worries, there's an ATM," she points across the lobby.

"Thank, can I leave my bags here for a second?"

"Sure, sweetie," she turns to the computer and clicks around.

You cross to the machine and dig out your debit card. You slide it into the slot and push the firm metal buttons. Your stomach plummets as you punch in the custom amount for withdrawal. You were saving that for the mortgage and Leslie. You hit Yes and the machine whirs, spitting out a stack of bills and a receipt.

You return to the counter and hand it over. Mindy asks for your name and phone number. You give her your info, growing more weary by the moment.

"Here are your keys," she hands over a tiny paper folio, "checkout is 11am tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Wifi info is in there, along with information about breakfast. Coffee in the room and a kettle. Oh, and microwave."

You thank her one last time and collect your bags once more. You go to the elevator and check the folio for your room number. You hit floor six and wait for the box to rise. You step off, following the wall plaques to the matching door. It's yours, just for a little bit.

You swipe the card several times before it unlocks, struggling to make it register. You push your duffle inside with your feet and put your work bag beside it as the door shuts on its own. The room is small, the walls are pasted in faded wallpapers and the bed is made with sheets that remind you of another decade.

You put the keys on the table against the wall and drag yourself to the bed. You don't really have any time to nap, you just need to get off your feet for a little.

Your restlessness doesn't let you sit long. You wear some of your old clothes, of the few pieces you salvaged from the ruin. You check yourself in the mirror. You don't bother with the makeup. Mr. Laufeyson will be disappointed either way. Besides, you shouldn't care so much what he thinks. You're just his house manager after all. You're there to do a job.

If only believing it would make it true.

You find a route that goes towards his neighbourhood. It lets you off a few blocks away and you take your time. You almost don't have a choice as your body is achy from your father's attach, new bruises rising tenderly to the surface.

You're early despite the fractured night. As you pass the cafe, you slow and glance through the window. Just one more quiet moment before you face the inevitable.

You push inside and see the same woman as last time. You give the same order as you doubt she even recognises you. She hovers her finger over the touch screen of her till, "we have a special, a rose tea latte, if you're interested."

"Oh?" You scrunch up your lips, you've never been good at saying no. "Sure, I'll try that."

You got the change to pay and frown. You shouldn't be spending what's left on a tea. You should be smarter. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be such a loser.

You sit and stare at the pink foam. You don't know if you can do this but what other choice do you have? You could just disappear but for how long? You'll run out of money. As hard as it was to get this job, you don't think a new one would be any easier when you have one reference. A reference who you don't expect a shining review from.

You sip carefully. It's delicious. You drop your forehead into your hand as hot tears brim your eyes. You fight to constrain them, nearly quaking with the effort. Your eyes are swollen enough as it is.

You continue to drink, keeping your head down, and finish before you resign yourself to fate. To face Mr. Laufeyson. You can do this, not because you're strong, but because you have to.

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

[Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato, @aliherreraaa, @olicity-boo, @tarathia, @thinking1bee]

[silverpen-and-paper]

question — would any loki fans (of mcu loki specifically, any movies/era) be interested in taking an extensive survey for loki fans?

i have a lot of questions i’ve been wanting to ask the broader loki fandom, and i figure a survey would be better than making a million tumblr polls. i already have a pretty long list of questions, but i want to make sure it’s something people are actually interested in.

the survey would cover as many topics as i can think of. in my current rough draft, there are six sections: 

fan demographics. age, gender, race, etc. all questions here would have a “prefer not to say” option for those who don’t wish to give out that information.

basics. about which mcu movies/episodes you’ve watched (that contain loki), and if you enjoyed them.

contentious topics. which is pretty much… everything. some examples of what i’d ask about include: the attack on new york, loki’s familial relationships, what you think of popular pre-canon loki headcanons/theories, opinions on loki variants, etc etc. i will likely split this section up.

shipping and lgbtq+ stuff. also contentious topics, but they get their own section.

fandom interactions. if/how you’ve participated in online or offline fandom, & how fandom has treated you. 

non-mcu loki questions. asking about other loki media you’ve seen, if any.

i’m planning for the survey to be hosted by the google docs surveys feature, but i’ve never used that before, so i may or may not be able to figure it out. i won’t collect emails, so answers would be anonymous. i might decide to post the data from some of the questions if the survey gets enough responses, and i’ll add a way to opt out of that. 

if anyone has any ideas for specific questions i should ask, please definitely suggest them! i would appreciate it a lot.

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 9

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 8

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki walks to the balcony and beckons you to follow.

You see a table with a spread ready for you. It's the most food you have ever seen and the most delicious-looking.

Trying to hide your shock and anticipation at the feast, you force yourself to sit down and intertwine your fingers.

Loki begins piling food on his plate when he realizes you have yet to reach for anything.

"Do you not like anything here?" he says to you.

"Oh, um, no no I just... I don't know what I like..." you stutter.

Loki looks at you confused "What do you mean? This is standard Asgardian food."

"I've never had... they serve the servants the scraps so..." you falter.

Loki looks to you with an accusatory stare.

"You're hiding something."

You breathe in sharply and fidget in your seat.

"How do you mean?" you question him, pushing your luck.

He's the god of lies you fool. Of course he knows you're hiding something.

"They may serve the servants scraps as you say, but you've undoubtedly tried at least the basics... even if they were in the form of scraps..." he says slowly while analyzing you.

You shift under his gaze.

"I guess you're right. I must have not realized when I ate them." you lie again.

He knows you're lying. He can taste lies.

Somehow, he doesn't push further and resumes eating his lunch.

He beckons you to try and eat. You take a few bites and your eyes widen with how delicious it is.

"Mmmm oh Norns, this is fantastic!" you say with your mouth full.

Loki laughs, and you blush embarrassingly covering your mouth with your hand.

As you're eating you start to question why he is being so nice to you. This isn't the rumours you've heard... he's said to be ruthless... selfish, and careless... but here he is eating lunch with you on the balcony of chambers fit for a princess?

You're so lost in thought you don't notice Loki watching you. He's staring at you, analyzing everything you do.

"Thank you for everything... this is a lot... nobody has ever been this kind and generous to me before. It means a lot to me." you say to him, eyes locked on to his.

You notice his entire demeanour change as soon as you expressed your gratitude.

"That is all for lunch. We're done here. I've entertained the strays enough for the day. Clean this up then start your duties as my personal maid." you're shocked by the sudden change in attitude.

"Well? Are you just going to stare at me? Go on. Do your job." Loki chastises you.

Confused, you get up and start cleaning up the table.

"Oh, and I've forgotten to specify....these chambers are not yours. You will be provided a more suitable living quarters for someone of your status. These chambers are for a queen. Don't forget your place. You're a maid." Loki says to you as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut.

You stare at the table, confused and shocked at the drastic change in mood. The room falls silent.

Did he just call me a stray?

He's right. I am just a maid. How could I ever think I could be anything else?

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and you blink them away as your mind connects the pieces.

I was foolish. This was all some cruel trick; showing me everything I will never have. The god of trickery... he fooled me into believing I could have any of this. I trusted him... blindly. The rumours are true, he is twisted; he gets off on psychologically torturing people. I had promised myself to never trust anyone but myself again and yet he manipulated me into trusting him... the king... the god of lies and mischief...

As you're mind is spiralling you feel the anger and hurt bubbling inside you when suddenly the plates on the table fly across the room and shatter on the floor.

What the? I didn't throw those plates.. did I?...

Puzzled by the strange occurrence you keep replaying the last words he spoke to you.

You're a maid. Don't forget your place.

You repeat that to yourself multiple times as you finish cleaning the lunch table. Sighing, you gather the cleaning supplies and go into autopilot as you begin your routine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finish your rounds for the day and put the supplies back. Sighing, you realize you don't know where you're supposed to stay... he said to not go back to the maid's quarters but you have nowhere else to go.

You hear the flapping wings of a crow followed by its caw. It lands on the windowsill in front of you with a note attached to its claw.

Of course he would send his pet to relay his demands.

You slowly approach it and open the note. Flickers of green scatter across the page as the message appears:

'Your new sleeping quarters: The room behind the office.'

Obviously he would place me far away from everyone else to see but close enough for me to continue my work for him.

You make your way to the office and notice a door hidden at the far back behind a corner.

You turn the knob and push it open. A small room with a cot, a wardrobe and a small bathroom, with basic amenities lays before you. It was a fraction of the size of the other chambers.

Better than the hay-filled mattress and common bathrooms I used to share.

You sit down on the chair near the desk placed in the corner of the room. Scanning your surroundings you note that the walls are simply made of stone, no heating provided for the colder months ahead. Nothing you haven't survived before. A small square window in the middle of a wall sheds some bit of sunlight into the space.

On the bedside table you see a cloth with stale bread and nuts, with a glass of water.

Back to the usual menu I see...

You sit on the cot.

At least I get my own space.

You lay down and stare at the ceiling, contemplating your current situation.

I never have a choice. They are always made for me. This is my new life for now, until he decides he no longer needs me and I'm thrown into the wild to my own devices. It wouldn't be the first time.

You shiver as the nightmares from past flow through your head. Shaking your head to rid of the thoughts, you turn to lay on your side, your back still sore, amongst other injuries that have yet to fully heal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few days, your routine remains the same. Today you're assigned a new section, the library.

You push open the doors and gasp at the immensity of the room. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, a staircase in the middle leads up to a second floor with a couch and another room filled with books.

You're overcome with excitement and immediately start walking throw every aisle, scanning what books he has.

When's the last time I stepped foot in a library? Let alone held a book in my hands...

One of them catches your eye and you pluck it from the shelf and delicately open it. You sigh with content at the familiarity and protection you feel from holding a book.

A way out... mentally, momentarily... to keep my sanity and forget who I am. An imaginary shield around my heart, keeping reality at bay, daydreaming to be someone, somewhere, I could only dream of... a fairytale of course.

You breathe in deeply the smell of the book, sighing again, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. The book is filled with the same stories you vaguely recall your parents reciting to you as a child. You're filled with nostalgia as you flip through the pages, smiling at the memories.

"I didn't know you liked to read." Loki says from across the room. You gasp, eyes wide, shutting the book closed quickly and placing it back in its spot on the shelf.

You decide not to reply and start gathering your supplies again to resume your cleaning.

Loki watches you as he approaches. You're dusting the shelves when he comes behind you, merely inches from you and takes the same book out.

Your heart is racing.

How dare I touch anything that is his without permission? Another reason for punishment. Damn it, I couldn't help it... old habits die hard.

You're plucked from your thoughts as his voice carries through the room.

"A storybook? These are for children." he states as he flips through the pages.

Again, you remain quiet and continue your work.

"Most servants are illiterate. How do you know how to read?" he questions as he leans against the bookshelf behind you.

Without turning around to face him you reply "My father taught me."

"Hmmm... and who was your father?" he pushes further.

"He was once a professor."

"So, you can read higher than this level I presume. Why choose this book then, out of everything else in this library?" he questions.

You're furiously dusting, trying to distract your racing heart. Keeping your back to him "My father read them to me at night. I read them to my parents when they fell ill." you reply stiffly.

Your once nostalgic joyful moment now soured by the painful memories of the beginning of your suffering.

"Why aren't you facing me when you speak?" he questions.

You pause and let out a quick breath "I'm trying to finish my work on time, your highness. I know you highly appreciate punctuality."

"You still haven't learned that I know when you're lying?"

You huff in annoyance and turn around facing him "I'm not lying. I would like to finish the work on time to avoid punishment for tardiness, my king" you bite our rather harshly. Your eyes widen again at your outburst.

You swallow thickly.

He approaches you slightly and raises his arm. Your gasp and flinch away. Shutting your eyes tightly, arms tucked to your chest in protection.

You don't see the way Loki's body shifts uncomfortably at your instinctual reaction. He continues his movement of his arm and places the book back on the shelf. He watches as you're shaking, shrinking into yourself.

What happened to you? he asks himself.

You wait for the pain but when nothing happens you open your eyes slowly and see him staring at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Not the entire truth but close enough." he says smugly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 10

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

@luxky-aish

[martianbugsbunny]

IK in Marvel you're nuts for shipping a gay couple unless it's confirmed without a shadow of a doubt onscreen (which is a horrible precedent I think was set when they said Stucky were just friends because let's be real if all that can add up to welp just friends then how can any ship with less than that possibly be legit, right) bUT all that being said the Lokius energy? great. I'm not going to pat Marvel on the back and say this is enough, but I am going to say that for them setting the same-sex heavily-implied love interest next to the opposite-sex are-we-going-to-pretend-this-never-happened love interest and making it unclear if Loki was speaking to one (or both) of them was a pretty big stride forward. They might be coming out of the era of the big neon no-homo, because the Marvel that's been so homophobic in recent years would never have left that door open for considering, would have made sure Mobius was far offscreen when that happened, would have made Sylvie the only important relationship Loki had in the season, would not have put in all the little moments (I direct you to the Don episode: the hair-fixing by Loki, the way Mobius kinda flirts with him the whole time, the way Loki is drawn to Mobius' timeline more than anyone else's, the way the camera focuses on Mobius so close to when Loki is having his "WHO" epiphany, etc.; not to mention the ways they reach out to each other throughout the season, just a little intimate touch here and there, a hand on an arm, an arm around a waist; the fact that when Loki timeslipped back he looked to where Mobius was first, the way he went to Mobius for advice when he was completely out of options, the way he and Mobius trust each other to use torture boxes and help decide the fate of the multiverse, the way they, together, were a focal point of the season, that they were a unit of two, that they were so loath to be separated). In media as a whole, is this big? Not really. For Marvel specifically, in its own little pocket context? Big step. Immense. I really want to believe maybe they're opening the door for us and we just jam our foot in the gap hard enough they'll get the message that we're a fanbase to be reckoned with and that maybe they do want to spend the effort on us after all. I love Marvel. It was an important part of my childhood and I keep watching it now even though it's kind of a mixed bag. I want to be a part of it. I want the Lokius fanbase and the Sambucky fanbase to win where the Stucky fanbase was shut down. Those little moments were intentional and beautiful and I'm incredibly happy they exist. I want them to lead to something more.

[broomsick]

Hi,

I was wondering if you have any advice for learning to believe that the gods care about us as individuals?

When I see people saying that the gods really don’t care about us in the grand scheme of things, I find that easier to believe than to believe they care about us, which kinda feels .. shit. Although maybe it’s true, I’m not sure.

I honour Loki, but because I find it hard to believe that they care about me at all (especially given I can’t communicate with him – so he can’t tell me if he does or not, and I don’t want to assume), I feel like it puts distance between us on my end.

I apologise if this is a bit heavy or difficult to answer, don’t stress if you can’t, you’re fine to delete it! But if you have any advice, I’d greatly appreciate it.

Hi there! I definitely understand the way you feel, and from time to time, I experience this very same sentiment as well. I think asking oneself this sort of question comes naturally to many of us, because pragmatic thinking could have us believe the divine is somehow too great to care about us measly earthlings.

But let’s break down this idea that’s being spread around pagan social media platforms, according to which the Gods are too busy, too grand, or too powerful to care about their followers. I’ve never been a fan of this sort of over-the-top cynical rhetoric. Still, I think there’s no better way to tackle pragmatic thinking than in a pragmatic way. The way I see it, this perception of the divine stems from a will to fully detach oneself from common monotheistic concepts. The fact is that a lot of neo-pagans, including popular pagan content creators, come from a Christian background. Some of these creators, whether polytheistic, animistic, both, or else, seem very keen on rejecting any spiritual concept or practice deemed monotheistic in nature, such as the idea that the divine can love us. Neo-paganism entails new ideas, and therefore, any perception of the divine that’s akin to that of the big monotheistic religions is either naive, or shows remnants of monotheistic thinking. However, there’s nothing naive about believing that the divine can care about us. I can believe this, just like I can believe that this or that deity presides over this or that matter in life. Belief systems work in a way that allow for specific ideas of the divine to form, and to vary from person to person. And after all,—just as an aside—, if an entity is powerful enough to be considered divine, then they are powerful enough to know about each of their followers, regardless of how many there are. Now, I don’t think there’s any need to specify that polytheism is inherently spiritual. This means that its very foundations are built upon personal gnosis, and belief in concepts that cannot be proven. No such thing as logic regulates matters of spirituality. So why should we, as theists whose beliefs aren’t commanded by any sort of authority or rule set, be so rigidly pragmatic in this case?

In the end, it all comes down to what we personally believe, and what we’ve personally experienced. Who’s to prove that the Gods don’t love us? And if I saw some stranger on social media tell me “hey um, your God doesn’t care about you by the way”, I would think that 1. Me and this person probably don’t even perceive the divine in the same manner at all; 2. Nothing and nobody dictates belief but the believer themselves; and 3. My experience has proven to me that the Gods care for us, and it’s proof enough. But let me elaborate on that matter further.

In most pagan paths, deities embody different natural phenomena and elements of human life. That’s the way the very first forms of polytheism developed. And to me at least, that’s also the way we as pagans experience their presence firsthand. The Gods are all around us: we can see them because we can see forests, seas, storms, fire, rain… And when you see it that way, they are infinitely closer to us than some cynical social media accounts would have us believe. They don’t sit on golden thrones above the clouds, far away from the human condition. Their presence is tightly intertwined with the earth. So why should “the forest, seas, storms” etc etc care for us? Well my friend, have you ever spent time by a river, and felt that it had a soul of its own? Have you ever felt a bond with a specific tree, or got the sense that the storm was alive somehow? That is something I worship as a pagan. And in my personal experience, the God’s burning, all encompassing love can be felt in these sorts of moments. I don’t need for them to tell me directly. It’s like looking into a loved one’s eyes and feeling that they love you, even though not a single word was spoken. I know how difficult it can be to put one’s faith in such a thing, when it’s already hard for us to even communicate with the Gods. That’s why we keep an eye out for signs from them. And even so, we might never truly grasp their thoughts. If anything, that’s something we know for sure about the divine. If you want my opinion, believing that the Gods love us is a perfectly sound choice to make. They send us their blessings in too many ways to count, sometimes in the form of well-needed change, reassurance, comfort… And if you believe that a certain blessing was sent by the Gods, doesn’t that already showcase a certain care? Even for those who see deity worship as purely transactional (an offering for a blessing and vice-versa), the very idea that a deity would send a blessing implies care for the followers who make the offering. And since me, along with innumerable other pagans, have received blessings without necessarily having to ask or perform some sort of huge offering ritual, I’ve naturally decided that the Gods love their followers. Everybody else can feel free to believe what they will, but my faith, intuition and experience have told me so.

Don’t let your mood be undermined by what people say on the internet, but more importantly, don’t let other people dictate what’s true and what’s false about your experience of spirituality. Let yourself believe what you want to believe, there’s nothing wrong with that at all. You don’t owe anybody proof of what you have faith in.

[caffiend-queen]

Oh, I could just EAT YOU UP! A Holidays in Hel Loki-Avengers tale.

I was re-reading this the other day when I should have been getting my new book "Captivated" finished. I'd forgotten how much fun it was writing the Holidays in Hel series... If you're in the mood for some creepy, sexy (not at once, thank god) Loki Halloween tale, look no further.

In which Loki and Mina realize that no holiday is safe from the epic round of truly bad luck that the Avengers have when celebrating the most innocent of times...

***

“You’re expecting me to do what?”

Loki was lounging - elegantly, of course - against a pillar in the huge common room where the Avengers tended to gather when not on missions or getting patched up in the Medbay. He was sartorial perfection in a bespoke Tom Ford suit in onyx. Mina paused from shoveling the candy into one of the massive bowls to smile at him, a little misty with appreciation over his sheer beauty. Her- not her boyfriend, the God of Mischief and Lies could never be called something so ridiculous, her beau? Her partner? Her… Apparently, Loki had been speaking to her because he’d paused, looking at her peevishly.

“Sorry, Loki. I was admiring how unreasonably beautiful you are in that suit, but yeah... just pass out some candy to the trick or treaters? For the media coverage? To make you look... uh... caring?”

Mina said the right thing, of course. The fine lines around his glittering emerald eyes faded away. “Of course you were, darling. This is understandable. I shall repeat myself. You cannot possibly…” He picked up a violently colored package luridly branded as “Unicorn Poop!” pinched between his thumb and forefinger, the way one might hold a dirty diaper. “...Expect me to touch these vile things, much less give them to children?” Loki’s sneer was quite credible, but Mina knew he was posturing. He liked children, though he would rather cut his hair than admit it. He had been shockingly kind to Amelia, Mina’s niece, last New Year’s when her skeevy brother and his wife dumped their daughter in her’s and Loki’s laps and hoofed it to the airport for a Caribbean vacation. 

“The candy is hideous,” she admitted, “but this is the crap kids love now, everything is ‘unicorn,’ or ‘poop.’ Or the blissful combination of both.” Loki tossed the lurid sweet back into the pile in the bowl. “Tony got a tractor-trailer full of the stuff from this candymaker he’s doing business with. The man is some sort of real-life Willy Wonka.” 

“Hmm,” Loki could even make a humming noise sound deeply disapproving. “Is that the bizarre little gentleman I’ve seen Tony squiring around the tower?"

As if he knew he’d been called, Stark strolled into the room, skirting the cases upon cases of candy piled high around the room. “I gotta admit, Horo, this is enough candy to trick or treat the entire state’s population of kids into a sugar coma.”

The man with him laughed, more of a high-pitched giggle that was startling coming from someone as hugely wide and tall as he was. In fact, his height and weight ended up forming a perfect shape of a square. He was dressed in a top hat and a bright candy-colored suit, with tufts of purplish hair sticking out at angles from his top hat.

“Remember when you watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with me?” Mina murmured to Loki.

“Indeed,” he said, folding his arms, “this creature has managed to take all the most unpleasant elements of Sir Wonka and made them even more troubling.”

“Reindeer Games!” shouted Tony, “Come and meet another magician!”

Mina watched as Loki’s entire form stiffened. “Did he just refer to me as a… a magician?” Loki spat. 

“Uh, I think Tony’s already a vodka bottle in for the festivities,” she soothed. “Just ignore him.”

Nonetheless, she pasted on a smile as Tony led the bizarre creature over. Bypassing his host, the man whipped off his top hat, sweeping it low into a courtly bow. “Horatio J. LaDreamy at your service!”

They spent some time sorting through the cases of candy, Horatio holding up each one and exclaiming over its merits like parents with a baby picture. Mina attempted to go through the plan of having Horatio himself pass out the first round of candy for the media coverage. “It’s a really nice thing, if you don’t mind, Mr. ah… Mr. LaDreamy. And the kids will be so excited to meet you.”

“You’re just so scrumptious,” Horatio said, his voice hoarser now, perspiration dotting his upper lip. Leaning in, he held onto Mina’s hand, “I could just eat. You. Up.”

Her revulsion at this freak in his pink-striped shirt and his unfocused, glittering eyes was too great to hide, but his grin only widened as she yanked her hand away. “I have to…” Horatio was still staring at her greedily, and Mina backed away, “...go over… here.” 

She speed-walked over to where Loki stood with a look of profound boredom and a very nice glass of Lafite Rothschild 1999. Taking the glass from him, she downed it in one gulp. The tall, beautiful god looked down at her with the same shock and disgust normal people would reserve for murder, or terrible train wrecks. 

“You just violated that Lafite,” Loki said with deep disgust, “you just spat on it and threw it into the gutter of your untrained palate.”

“Don’t care,” Mina managed, taking the last bit of liquid in the glass, “I needed it. That man is a freak. A total weirdo.” He merely gave her his long-suffering, “Yes, I know this already” expression. “He just told me,” she said, still looking over Loki’s expensively suited shoulder at Horatio, who was now plying an unamused Natasha with an awkward-looking magic trick involving a deck of cards and a very long scarf he kept pulling from his sleeve, giggling with excitement. “He grabbed my hand and said the weirdest thing, he said, “I could just eat you up.” Loki’s eyes narrowed, and she hastened to clarify, “He wasn’t hitting on me, it was creepier. Like he really was hungry.”

Loki thoughtfully eyed the man, who’d somehow gotten tangled up in the scarf he’d been using for his ‘magic trick.’ “Some of the vilest monsters I have battled were quite benign in appearance. I shall examine this creature more closely.”

But really, what happened next was no one’s fault.

***

“Three cheers for… uh...  the… Candy Guy!” Tony was deep in his cups and Mina was just happy he was still standing, thanks to an occasional nudge from Pepper behind him.

Horatio didn’t seem to mind, smiling benignly down on the happy Stark Tower employees, most of them waist-deep in Unicorn Poop.

“Thank you, Tony, my dear friend!” He spread out his giant arms to the crowd, “And to all of you, thank you for helping me bring joy to the children! They don’t want boring old chocolate bars anymore! They want bright, sparkly candy that will make their mouths tingle and their tummies tap dance with happiness! To be honest, friends, I could not do it without you.”

The crowd chuckled, smiling up at Horatio while slipping fistfuls of candy into backpacks, purses, and bulging pockets.

“No!” Horatio said earnestly. “I really couldn’t! The sweetest and kindest among you will guarantee that the next year’s production of the Unicorn Poop candy line will be bigger and better than ever! More than double this year’s output and keeping up to with demand. I just need one thing from you to make every child in the world hold a package of unicorn poop in their chubby little hands.” He looked directly at Mina and smiled, suddenly showing many, sharp teeth. “I just need you.”

There was a violent pink explosion, cotton candy shooting in all directions and sending a spray of crystalized sugar into the eyes and lungs of everyone in the huge room, coughing and wheezing until everyone could catch their breath.

“Where,” snarled Loki in his most severe, stentorian tone, “is MINA?”

“Wh- I do not see Jane!” protested Thor.

Natasha circled the room rapidly. “Bruce is missing!”

Tony suddenly seemed to sober up. “Hey, has anyone seen Pepper?”

***

“Wh- where the hell are we?” Jane gasped, hanging on to a sagging Shanice from Accounting, whose heaving chest showed she hadn’t weathered the abduction well.

Mina, leaning against a candy-striped pillar for balance, pulled away as she realized the pillar was clinging to her hand like the creepiest possible taffy, as if it was alive, wrapping tendrils of its taffy-esque substance up her arm. “Yuck!” she whined, trying to peel the substance off her new black blouse. “If I had to guess, based on the shittiest series of holidays ever over this last year, that that psycho candymaker from hell has somehow kidnapped us and we’re in his dungeon… factory… purgatory… of candy.”

“Right you are, sweet Mina!” Horatio happily approached the group, not seeming to notice how everyone cringed away from him. “You are all here as my very special guests! As the sweetest, nicest people I’ve met this year, you’ve won the Golden Pass to tour my candy kingdom!”

“A Golden Pass?” Mina tried not to laugh. The situation was too serious, but she couldn’t help herself. Horatio was wearing a top hat that looked suspiciously like the one Willy Wonka wore in the movie. “You mean a Golden Ticket?”

“No,” he answered cheerfully, sampling a flower that appeared to be made of lime green nougat, “a Golden Pass is even better! It’s a super-duper big honor!”

Looking around, Mina tried to find an exit. Please god, she thought, don’t let the Oompa-Loompa ripoffs come out singing and dancing!

Because it was an Avenger’s Holiday From Hel, it was worse.

“Are those…unicorns?” gasped Sun Lee, the sweetest girl in HR, who was always making cookies and bringing them to work.

Everyone turned together and sure enough, a herd of alarmingly cheerful candy-colored unicorns came trotting over to them, making some sort of unicorn-type greeting. Not neighing, exactly. More like a mean-spirited giggle, Mina thought dourly.

“Here are my babies!” Horatio held his arms out, greeting one unicorn after another with a kiss on the lips. 

Mina heard a faint “Ewwww…” behind her, it might have come from Maurice in Promotions and Marketing, who was edging away from a unicorn insisting on nuzzling into his neck with the same enthusiasm of a date on Prom Night. 

“Uh, they’re really… I didn’t know unicorns actually existed, though based on this past year you’d think I’d be more open-minded,” Mina said, edging away from the cotton-candy pink horn of the equine interloper trying to snuggle up under her arm.

Horatio beamed at her, oozing charm and a weird kind of faux innocence as he nudged another unicorn - this one a swirl of lavender and baby blue - at Mina, bookending her with mystical creatures. “Come, darlings, I’ll take you on a tour of Horatio LaDreamy’s candy factory!”

Mina could see Darcie gearing up to give him the Stern Talking To, and caught her eye, shaking her head. She’d been gripping her emerald pendant like it was Loki’s perfect cock since they’d popped in to this candy-caned striped hellscape. He’d find them and save the day, like always. She just needed to get them all to play along until he showed up. 

And when he did? She was going to suck his dick like she was mad at it.

***

“Here we are,” Loki raged, “in the - as Tony has repeatedly and tiresomely claimed - the most secure building on the planet, and yet once again, my Mina has been abducted. Again!” He was running his hands through his perfect ebony hair, and it unreasonably made it even more full and flowing over his expensively suited shoulders.

“Thanks, Severus Snape, but remember that my fiancée and another twenty Stark employees also got snatched?” Tony was furious and embarrassed, which served to make him even more annoying. He was attempting to drum some discordant rhythm on the granite bar top with spoons, and it was so unbearable that the even-tempered Steve was the one to reach over and snatch the silverware from his jangly hands.

“Everyone calm down!” Steve was at his most stern and Captain-ish and Loki watched cynically as the rest of the - as Mina called them - the Spandex Squad immediately obeyed. His handsome, stern gaze turned to Tony. “Where did you meet Horatio? How is it that no one knows the location of his factory? Everyone needs employees. Can we track him through the IRS? How did he get the kind of tech that could move that many people at once? Loki, is this magic?”

Loki was pacing around the last location of the lunatic candymaker as he disappeared from Stark Tower with his Mina. “I do not recognize the energy signature, but it feels more as seidr than technology. But all seidr… it leaves a trace. I cannot find one here.” 

Thor was absently swinging Mjolnir, nearly braining one of the waitstaff trying to clear up the candy carnage. He was desperate to smite someone- anyone at this point. Loki glared at his brother after another close pass from the hammer. “Brother, do contact Heimdal and ask for his assistance.” 

“I shall do this immediately!” Thor roared happily, striding masterfully to the elevators.

“A good idea,” approved Natasha.

Loki sneered elegantly. “I contacted Heimdal the moment they all disappeared. He knows nothing. But it will keep my idiot brother occupied while we work.”

Rubbing her forehead, she allowed herself to look vulnerable, just for a moment. “Then how are we going to find them in time?” Looking at him with troubled blue eyes, she said, “I feel like time is ticking down to something. Do you feel it?”

Looking out the window as the sun headed to the horizon, the afternoon light sending them all into sharp focus, Loki fought down an unfamiliar sense of panic. “If one looks to most of the pagan legends, sunsets are often associated with human sacrifice.”

“You don’t-” the blood drained from Natasha’s pale complexion, leaving her sheet-white. She thought of Bruce, his gentle smile and his kind way with those smaller and weaker than himself. “We have to get them out of there.”

“I assure you, my ocharovatel'nyy ubiytsa,” he said grimly, “I am quite in agreement.”

***

Every holiday, Mina thought as the unicorn prodded her in the back with his horn, every goddamned holiday. Would it really be too much to ask to get Halloween off from the Avenger’s holiday fuckups? My favorite holiday? Her self-pitying thoughts were interrupted as Horatio waved grandly and the massive pink and lavender doors before them began to slowly open.

“You may ask,” he puffed, “how my candy is so sweet? So perfectly formed and flavored? How it can be so addicting?” He beamed at the sullen group behind him. “Meet my secret weapon!”

Mina gulped and she heard a shrill scream from Carla from Banqueting and Events as she passed out. It was another unicorn. A gigantic-ass, monstrous unicorn whose horned head nearly brushed the top of a room the size of an airport hangar. She was violent splashes of aqua, purple, and fuchsia. But her eyes were the blazing red of hell and when she opened her big, horsey mouth, she roared, a thunderous strike that hit the group like a fist, making everyone cringe and cover their ears. There was steam rising from the floor, which was liberally splashed with red and dotted with… bits of something horrible. And popping rapidly out from under her striped tail, were- Mina squinted. “Oh, my god,” she groaned, “is that unicorn poop?”

“An A+ for the pretty lady in the front row!” Horatio said happily, “Yes, this is my sweet angel and the producer of the entire Unicorn Poop line! Glow in the Dark Unicorn Poop, Candy Corn Unicorn Poop, Peppermint Striped Unicorn Poop, and Fudgy Center Unicorn Poop, though that last one isn’t selling the way I thought it would.” His mildly puzzled expression cleared as another giant pile of candy flew from Big Mama Unicorn to be separated and packaged by some listless robots in the bright candy wrappers. “Anyway!” he continued, “So my beloved is such a good girl, producing pile after pile of delicious treats, day after day, 24/7. But a girl’s gotta eat, right?”

“What…” Jane’s expression told Mina she’d already put two and two together, “what do you feed her?”

Horatio’s eyes glowed, “Why, only the sweetest and kindest folks ever! After spending the week at Stark Tower and getting to know everyone, I knew I was picking the sweetest, nicest people there! And it’s perfect timing,” his giggle was alarmingly high-pitched, “because my girl is hungry.”

Big Mama Unicorn let out a terrifying bellow, and all the smaller unicorn guards nickered in agreement as the humans huddled closer together.

Loki was still pacing the spot where that candy-coated monstrosity had disappeared, taking his Mina and so many others with him. He had some hopes that as one of the captives, Bruce, at least, might still have the capacity to shift into his larger, angrier form. But he could feel the energy behind the seidr the top-hatted lunatic had used to steal Mina and the others. It was demonic. Straightening his tie, he turned to the others. “I shall return.”

“Wha- hey!” Tony turned to the others. “He shall return? What the hell did Mr. Wizard just say? Where is he going?”

Such was the haughtier and gravitas of Loki, Prince of Asgard and Rightful King of Jotunheim that not a demon dared approach him, the hounds of Hel whined nervously and hid under the furniture as he passed, still sleek and perfect in his ebony suit.

“Oh, it’s you.” The woman, clad in an equally dark suit and a sullen expression was lounging on an ostentatious throne, made of the bones of thousands of different creatures.

“Is that any way to greet your dear, dear father?” Loki plucked a bit of something off his impeccable sleeve, flicking the offending bit away in a flash. 

If her black eyes had rolled any further back, they’d be wedged against her brain stem. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Loki. What do you want?”

“A bit of conversation, darling.” Hitching his trousers, Loki sat gracefully on a chair made of human bones and sinew. “We’ve a bit of an issue at the Avenger’s Tower with abductions.”

She shrugged, idly poking at one of the cringing shades with the toe of her sharpened steel boot. “And this concerns me how?”

“Hela.”

The one word was spoken in a tone so low that the granite foundations of the Queen of Hel’s throne shifted slightly.

Leaning forward, Loki’s eyes flashed a searing green-gold. “Do not feign innocence with me. That vile candymaker could not have managed this level of power as a mere mortal. What was your bargain?”

Hela sniffed, tossing her long black hair over one shoulder in a flounce clearly inherited from her sire. “Oh. That irritating little man was constantly bleating about his unicorns and how they got… what was the word? Oh, ‘hangry,’ and he needed the power to move large groups of people to the factory to feed them, and-”

“What did you say?” Loki shot out of his chair, face even paler, “Feed mortals to... his unicorns?” 

Hela shrugged, “His tiresome obsession with those silly creatures… though the monstrous procreator is quite ferocious. She would be an excellent addition to my Helhounds.” She chuckled heartlessly. “Perhaps I shall take her, along with his pathetic soul when it is due.”

In an instant, her furious sire was leaning over her, so close that her throne tipped back. “If a single hair is disturbed upon my Mina’s head, I shall tie you to the hack of one of your beloved Helhounds, and create a seidr that will force him to run through your pits of flaming tar and leave you upside down beneath the surface of one of them. For your continued good health, I do hope no harm comes to those abducted from the Tower.”

For once, his daughter didn’t have a scathing retort.

***

It was hard to come up with a plan, what with all the screaming, Mina thought, dazed and jostling to keep her co-workers away from that giant fucking unicorn from Hel. I mean, it really does look like Loki’s daughter spawned it, she thought a little spitefully. 

She stilled for a moment, ignoring the prodding from the unicorn’s pointy horn wedging just under her right shoulder and shoving hard enough to leave a crater in her back. “That’s it!” Mina gasped. Elbowing past her pink and blue guard, she shouted, “Hey, Horatio! You’re wrong! You think we’re the sweetest people in the building?” 

The candymaker was busy trying to shove Mario from Accounting closer to the gaping maw of Mama Unicorn. Horatio looked over his polka-dotted shoulder red-faced and petulant. “You just hold right there, little miss! It’ll be your turn in a minute!” 

“I’m not sweet!” Mina tried to pitch her voice higher than Mario’s screaming, but it was close. “I have a mouth like a sailor, you asshole! I really didn’t like Aama here-” she pulled over her startled co-worker in the Developmental Science Division, “because she’d always steal the good lab coats and I’d end up with one of the acid-stained ones. I ‘forgot’ to invite her to one of the employee lunches-”

“Hey! Really?” Aama said, looking deeply wounded.

“Sorry, Aama,” Mina said, patting her back absently. “Anyway, I am not sweet! Also, if you saw the kinky stuff Loki and I get into? I’m gonna give that lavender pony from Hel heartburn!”

“I knew you two were into some weird shit!” gloated Darcy.

“Oh, please!” Mina retorted, “You wrote the book- hell, you wrote an entire Wikipedia on kink!”

Her eyes widened pleadingly, and Darcy caught on. “Oh, yes I did! One guy, two guys… once there was a wheel of cheese in the room and a duck, and…”

Even Mario had stopped screaming to hear this.

“Also,” Darcy continued defiantly, “I - I shoplifted some peanut butter and cigarettes from the bodega down the street because I forgot my purse…” She’d come back the next day with a batch of cookies, an apology and the money, of course. Also, the son’s owner really liked her and had given her the peanut butter and the pack of extra-long menthols, but that didn’t help the story. “I’ve drugged Jane’s sandwich before! More than once!”

“You did?” Jane gasped, “You’re- why? Why did you do that?”

Her best friend sputtered a bit, she’d done it to force Jane to get some sleep after working in the lab for three days straight. “Uh… because I’m jealous of you and I’m… uh… stealing all your research! Yeah!”

Jane was bug-eyed with shock for a moment before she recognized Darcy’s wildly twitching eye was a wink and not a muscle tic brought on by sheer terror. “I don’t care, Darcy! Because… because… I’ve been selling it to HYDRA! So there! And I cheated on my taxes! Three times!”

“I stole my roommate's boyfriend!” chimed in Sun Lee, though they’d been broken up for over a year and her roommate didn’t even care, but… she had to top the HYDRA whopper and distract the crazy candymaker while everyone caught on. “And I pulled the last shopping cart in the queue away from an old man who was trying to put his oxygen tank in it!”

Even Mama Unicorn had stopped that endless bellowing, watching with a wrinkled muzzle as the weird confessions got wilder and more offensive as each of the desperate prisoners started chiming in.

“I stole my mother’s wedding ring!”

“I cheated my way through college!”

“My family disowned me after I burned my grandparent’s house down!”

“I- I- I ATE A BABY!”

They all turned - even Horatio and Mama Unicorn - to stare at Kevin from Ground Security, who was not a super inventive guy. “Too much?” he asked humbly, wringing his hands. “But anyway,” he continued, “I’m gonna give that lavender bitch food poisoning, so HAVE AT IT YOU CANNIBALISTIC FREAK!”

“There’s no reason to be rude,” Horatio said repressively, “and you’re upsetting my sweet mama here, her nerves are delicate!”

“We’re going to make you puke cotton candy for a week, you one-horned psycho!” Mina shouted above the others, “You are gonna suffer, lady! And- and- and-” She smiled evilly, “Mr. LaDreamy, your candy tastes like ass. And now we know why. Your Unicorn Poop really is complete and utter shit.”

“Shit! Your candy is shit!”

“Everyone’s laughing at you and your weird turquoise friend!”

“Your candy sucks!”

“Halloween’s going to be canceled if this crap gets out because Manhattan will be covered in kid vomit!”

“That’s ENOUGH!” screamed Horatio, his purple hair sticking out in tufts. “You’re trying to distract me from our sacred purpose here, putting a smile on EVERY CHILD’S FACE AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU-” He broke off, face almost as purple as his hair and wheezing.

And Pepper delivered the killing blow. “Mr. LaDreamy, I intend to file suit with the FDA regarding your use of hazardous materials and a deeply, deeply unsanitary workspace. I hope your mama… thing there has other talents because she will be paying for your fines into the next century. I am very vindictive,” she added with a dark smile, “and I love making little men like you twist on the hook like a gutted trout.”

Everyone stirred uneasily. This was essentially accurate.

There was an ominous, low rumbling and it seemed like the blood-soaked factory walls were closing in on them. Horatio chuckled, a mean little gurgle that sounded like a truly beastly child’s. “Hush, now. Since you’re not nice, sweet people at all, since you lied to me- Well, there’s only one thing to do.”

Mina stumbled slightly, was that rumbling getting louder? It felt like the pink and red striped factory floor was shifting under her feet.

“I’d planned on waiting until the new year to debut my latest line of sweets....” He smoothed down his ratted fringe of hair and put his top hat back on. “But it’s time, thanks to you-” he said spitefully at Mina, “to introduce my new brand, Devil’s Food Delights.”

There was a bellow. A howl. The combined sound of a million souls suffering and the sound rose and shook the rafters as something burst through the floor.

“Aw, goddamnit,” sighed Mina.

***

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” groaned Bucky, who was hovering over Loki’s shoulder in a truly provoking way, nudging him absently with his vibranium arm and making him yearn to send his own godly elbow into the Soldier’s face. The pleasant thought distracted Loki for a moment and the seidr shimmered ominously. 

“If you don’t take yourself to the back of the jet and stay there,” he snarled, “the seidr will collapse and we must begin again.” He studied the aggressively pink cotton candy tone of his spell. “Due north.” 

***

The Stark employees clutched at each other, trying to keep from toppling into the pit now spreading on the factory floor, an ominous red glow glaring out from the hole. The screaming started up again as a massive spider placed all eight of its horrible, clawed appendages on to the crumbled concrete and hefted its pulsating, plump black carapace out of the pit. All eight of its beady crimson eyes were focused on Mina, who found herself shoved in front of Dante from Armaments and Darcy, who’d started hurling packages of Unicorn Poop at the monstrous thing. This was, unfortunately, the thing that turned its attention to their little huddle and it began scampering over the ruined ground toward them.

Their rescue came - by cynical fate - from Mama Unicorn, who was not happy about her potential dinner being taken away. With another rafter-rattling roar, she hauled her huge pink and blue bulk from her corner, stomping toward Horatio’s latest creation, which reared back with a shrill, chittering sound. From the back of the spider came shooting smeared charcoal and fuchsia eggs. “They’re wrapped in licorice-flavored cotton candy!” Horatio screamed over the angry whining from the smaller unicorns. “With a surprise inside!” he cackled as one of the bundles writhed and broke open, a teal-colored arachnid pulling free from its spun sugar cocoon. 

A blast shook the factory as one of the outside walls exploded, various Avengers pouring through the dust to the rescue. Spinning two wickedly sharp blades, Loki turned in a circle, looking for Mina. He found her - of course - standing in front of a group of cowering office personnel and looking rather nauseated.

“Darling!” Loki was on her in an instant, cradling her face. “You’re not hurt? Whose blood is this?”

“Uh… I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s mine.” It’s not that Mina was not extremely happy to see her princely suitor, but she could not take her eyes off the supernatural train wreck happening right in front of her. 

Steve was turning right, then left, trying to figure out who to throw his shield at. Wanda was rearing back, trying to pull away her scarlet pulse emanating from her hands, while repeating “Ew! Ew! Ew ew ew ew ewewewewe!” Bucky had Darcy slung over one broad shoulder and was pointing an extremely large gun at random angry unicorns.

Tony’s mask came up on his suit and his angry brown eyes scanned the melee. “Who should I shoot? I mean, what the hell…”

Really, it was a toss-up. Mama Unicorn and Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing were tearing at each other- oozing lime-green blood and chunks of both being tossed into the air during the battle. Horatio was screaming at them, “Stop it! You will get along, do you HEAR ME?” But it was clear those two were having none of that nonsense. 

Ducking a flying bit of Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing, Loki turned to find Mina gone. She was writhing like an infuriated eel, trying to escape the surprisingly strong grip of Horatio J. LaDreamy, infamous candymaker and a man currently Losing His Shit.

“This could have been so simple!” he howled, “Your sacrifice would have meant the happiness of children all over the world! But no…” Horatio hissed the word, gripping Mina’s neck tightly and putting something to her throat, something scary enough that she stiffened. His maddened orange eyes met Loki’s. “But there’s always a backup plan!” He was chuckling, but it sounded more like gargling with a mouthful of tar. “You know the significance of the setting sun, don’t you, you insufferable Asgardian?”

Mina corrected from habit, “Oh, Loki is actually both Jotunn and Asgardian.”

“Shut UP!” Horatio screamed into her ear, “I will have my candy empire and if I can’t feed you to Mama Unicorn I will still close the deal with my dark mistress with a sacrifice in her honor. Ah, ah!” He pushed the thing - which turned out to be the tip of the currently disemboweled Mama Unicorn’s horn harder into Mina’s neck. “You’ll stand back, Mr. Friggasson!”

Loki’s hands gripped his knife handles, knuckles white with fury. If that candy-striped lunatic stabbed Mina with that cursed unicorn horn it was over. He knew there was no seidr that could reverse the effects of such a weapon. But with a casual flick of his fingers to the right, he very carefully began circling the two. “You don’t need Mina. Not when you have a god to offer himself in exchange. Come, now. Take the horn away from her neck. I shall drop my knives and surrender to you.”

Oh, Horatio liked that idea, he could tell from the creature’s excitable little wiggle. Mina was silently shaking her head, but Loki’s gaze darted right and back again. She tilted her head, nodding. And to the backdrop of the dying screams of Mama Unicorn and Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing, the candymaker began to rage about the unfairness of life. The excellent quality of his candy. His visionary status. And how cruel it was that Loki’s hair was more luxuriant and silky than his. But the time he’d started on how boring Loki’s ebony suit was next to his magnificently colored ensemble, the irritable god had thrust forward with three fingers and a crisp command: “forsvinn!”

Mina ducked. Horatio stumbled backward and fell on his ass in a rapidly spreading pool of taffy in violent shades of red and yellow. The tipped cauldron rolled back and forth in the corner. “Do not touch it!” commanded Loki as the other Avengers stepped closer, “You will never get free.” Indeed, the candymaker was on his back, kicking and squalling like an overturned beetle as the taffy spread around him in a viscous flood. 

Loki straightened his tie and put an arm around Mina as she handed him the unicorn horn. “So the guys have rounded up all our co-workers and they’re ready to get out of this candy-coated hellhole. But what do we do about the baby spiders and the leftover unicorns and him?” She nodded at Horatio, who looked he might actually be dissolving into his own creation of corn syrup and evil.

Pressing a tender kiss to her temple, Loki smiled unpleasantly. “It shall all… be taken care of. Come along, darling. I shall bathe away that disgusting scent of unicorns and perspiration from you.”

The lit-up monolith of Stark Tower had just appeared in the quinjet’s windshield when Mina stiffened. “Oh, crap! What about all of the kids coming tonight to trick or treat? We can’t give them the unicorn shit.” 

Natasha was flying the aircraft, but she looked behind her with a raised brow. “Do you mean the Unicorn Poop candy?”

“No,” said Loki and Mina together, and she heaved a bit. “It’s actual shit, Natasha. Unicorn shit. Big Mama Unicorn was pooping it out. Piles and piles of-” Putting her hand over her mouth, Mina turned away.

***

“Here at Stark Industries,” Pepper said smoothly, to the reporters clustered around the first group of costumed toddlers, “we’ve been concerned about good nutrition and the amount of sugar the average child consumes every year. So we decided to set a new precedent this Halloween by giving out toys instead.”

Steve and Bucky were tearing open boxes of Avenger’s action figures, stuffies, promotional t-shirts, and more that had been hastily pulled from the merchandise warehouse. Darcy and Jane were happily handing them out to the stream of children. 

“Thank you so much,” recited a five-year-old fairy princess, she looked down at the Iron Man figure she’d been handed. “Could I have a Loki doll instead?”

Tony yanked the doll away from her. “Here’s a towel, kid. Keep moving.”

***

“Where are we?” Mina gasped as Loki pulled off her blindfold. They were on a platform in a massive tree in the middle of a field, dotted with the last of the season’s pumpkins and filled with fireflies, lighting the branches and crisp red and orange leaves with a surreal glow. The platform held a huge mattress with many plump pillows and silky throws and blankets. A low table ran alongside the bed, piled high with bottles of wine and tempting platters of meats and cheeses, fruit, fresh-baked rolls. “And no sugar,” she sighed gratefully. She felt her skin tingle as he ran his fingers down her side and gasped as she looked at the delicate lace and silk concoction he’d “poofed” on to her. It was long, with a high slit in the skirt and a shamelessly low neckline.

“Spin for me, darling.” Loki made a twirling motion with one long finger and enjoyed the sight of his Mina happily spinning in her new dress. It flared out around her ankles and the twinkling light of the fireflies shone through the sheer fabric over the taut line of her thigh, the softness of her luscious bottom. Oh, how he loved her pert behind.

When she spun around again, Mina found Loki reclining elegantly on the bed, sipping a glass of wine and holding one out for her. “Come, darling. The dance is about to begin.”

“What dance?” she asked, gathering up her long skirt to make the awkward crawl across the slippery expanse of the cushions to relax against his long, cool body. Loki nodded to the edges of the field and Mina gasped.

Women, clad in black, walked from the cover of the surrounding forest to meet in the center around the tree. A bonfire surged up, lighting their serene faces as they began their song, moving around each other in a complex web. 

“Um, are we allowed to be here?” Mina whispered, terribly excited but a little nervous. She knew what this was- Samhain. Which meant they were in Ireland, which meant this was one of the most secretive and powerful of the ancient pagan clans. The women dancing ignored them and their luxurious platform, but it was clear she and Loki had been given a nearly unheard-of opportunity.

“Shhhh…” he murmured, and she settled back. 

Following the complex braid of movement was so fascinating that it took Mina a bit to realize that there were new dancers in the circle- shadowy forms that danced in and out of the circle made by their living sisters. “Oh... “ she gasped. The living and the dead twined back and forth as their song grew louder, almost a chant and suddenly the fire was burning hotter or something because she felt like every part of her was wildly overheated. She needed something to cool her, and- “Thank you Loki,” Mina moaned happily as he pulled her to her knees, resting that bottom of hers that he’d praised so often on her heels. Kneeling behind her, he pressed his broad chest and a very promising, prominent bulge against the small of her back. The chill radiating from him just made her skin prickle more desperately. She needed him! Why won’t he help her? 

“Patience,” Loki soothed, “watch the ceremony, sweet one.”

Mina blinked hard. The swirl of color and sound vibrated through her skin and settled into the base of her spine, spreading through her and making her gasp, pushing back against his hard, cool chest. Dimly, she felt his cool fingers spread her thighs, circling lightly around her wet furrow, the rough pads of his fingertips sliding back and forth, back and forth in a lazy way that made her half-insane as he circled her entrance, dipped lightly inside and moved back to lightly bat her clitoris. Finally, finally, he lifted her, the tip of his cock slick and wet from her.

“Put your arms behind my neck,” he urged, giving her shoulder a quick, sharp bite, enough to startle her into obeying him. The position made her arch her back, breasts thrust out as she strained to watch the movement of the dancing circle. Still, the women below seemed to ignore them as they continued their delicate dance between this world and the next. The heavy weight of Loki’s cock sliding into her made her clench down, enjoying his groan as it slowed his movements through her. It burned and stung a bit, just as it always did when Loki fucked her, but Mina relished it, craved it as part of the feeling of this god deeply embedded inside her. But the feel of cool lips suckling her clitoris made her let out a startled screech.

“Easy, darling,” purred Loki, lounging gracefully before her, examining himself buried inside her with interest. “I so rarely get to enjoy this lovely view as I take you. So sweet.” His diabolical tongue tickled her again, then lightly nipped one of her swollen lips. “Such a perfect, dark treat. And displayed so perfectly.” From behind her, Loki’s hands began toying with her breasts, pinching her nipples and pulling gently as the Loki below returned to his efforts, suckling her wet center, tongue stroking and fluttering along his cock sliding in and out of her channel. 

The sheer outrageousness of it - the intensity of two Lokis toying with her was too much and Mina’s head flew back, hitting his shoulder as she came. 

Trying to focus as the Loki below doubled down with chilly lips and teeth while seizing her bottom and moving her faster on his clone’s cock, she watched the night sky split, silver light streaming through and coalescing into shapes and shades of the Otherworldly.

“I have missed the play of nug-a-nug…” whispered one.

“Fadoodling they are, and so nicely…” sighed another.

“That’s putting the devil into hell!” shouted one of the more substantial spirits, and they all laughed in agreement, drifting lightly around the three joined together so closely that even the spectres could not see where one began or the other ended. But all the circling souls shuddered and sighed as the Lokis and Mina came together, glowing brighter and holding form for one perfect moment before fading into whisps again.

When Mina came back to some general form of awareness, she was wrapped in a velvety soft blanket, held in Loki’s arms as the other Loki waved down to the witches, still casually nude.

“Thank you for feeding our sisters!” called up the High Priestess. “To have them back with us again… our circle is complete. Farewell then.” She gave a sly wink to Mina. “And perhaps we’ll be seeing you again next year.”

Loki chuckled behind her, squeezing her gently. “There are so many haunts to explore,” he whispered in her ear, “enough for a thousand All Hallow’s Eves.”

Kissing his chiseled jaw, she said with deep satisfaction, “And no more creepy man-eating unicorns.”

***

Horatio J. LaDreamy sat in the smoking ruins of his factory, Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing and Big Mama Unicorn had torn each other to pieces and the resulting scuttle of remaining spider offspring being devoured by the few surviving unicorns. The acrid scent of burnt sugar stung his nose along with the strawberries and cream scent of unicorn blood covering his candy-striped suit. 

“How could this happen?” Horatio said peevishly.

“Because, you vile little man, you deserved it.” The smooth, cultured tone made him freeze in horror, and measured footsteps circled from behind him. Hela was strolling through the wreckage, hands on leather-clad hips. “How did you manage such a catastrophic failure in such a short time?” she mused, kicking at a severed unicorn hoof. “I did expect you back in my realm sooner than later, but even for you, this is simply pitiful.” Her elegant nose wrinkled a bit as she eyed his quivering form.

“B- b- but my beautiful unicorns!” Horatio wailed, “And my Devil’s Food darling and Mama Unicorn eating each other instead of those silly people! Hela, oh Dark Mistress, please-”

“None of that, mortal. Come along now.”

Horatio J. LaDreamy was a creature designed to strike terror into the hearts of the unwary, and a monstrous wave of empathy for the innocents he’d victimized slammed into him like a tsunami as Hela’s elegant hand rose, then clenched into a fist, tearing his soul from his body - leaving a withered, desiccated husk that collapsed into a pile of pink and purple dust.

***

Darcy lay on her back, panting and staring at the ceiling. “Holy shit, Bucky,” she wheezed, “if I knew getting kidnapped would turn you on like that I’d have done it sooner! I think I had an out-of-body experience on that fifth orgasm…”

She turned her head to look at him, he had his metal hand resting on his chest, still heaving from exertion.

“You know you’re some kind of sex demon with that tongue of yours,” she teased.

Bucky gave her a smile. Just a little one, a slight curve of those full lips that for him was the equivalent of tearing off his shirt and strutting around the tower singing “I’m The Man.” Then his head lifted abruptly, looking sharply in one direction, then the other.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” hedged Darcy, trying to yank her undies up her thighs.

His blue eyes narrowed. “I heard something. Like a neighing sound- “ He was across the room before she could blink, ripping the closet door off its hinges. 

“YOU BROUGHT ONE OF THOSE ASSHOLES BACK HERE?”

A little mauve and aqua-speckled unicorn cowered behind a stack of winter sweaters, whinnying in fear as Bucky towered over it.

“Stop it, you’re scaring him!” Putting her arms around the petite creature’s neck, Darcy looked up at him, her big, big, brown eyes tearing up a little.

He looked between the unicorn and his girlfriend. “Darce- honey are you insane? Are you remembering what these little bastards were going to do to you? Why would you do this!”

Sniffling prettily, she hugged the unicorn tighter. “Maurice didn’t do it! It was the big ones herding us to Mama Unicorn, he was-”

“You NAMED it?” he paced back and forth, pulling at his hair and absently wishing he hadn’t cut it so short. “We can’t keep a- wait, what is this? A mystical or mythical, or-”

“Arcane?” she offered helpfully.

“Enchanted?” He paced some more, watching the tiny creature burrow into Darcy’s generous bosom. Sighing, he sat down on the bed. “You can keep it for tonight. Tomorrow, you have to take it-”

“It’s not an it, it’s a Maurice!”

“You’re taking Maurice to Banner for a full examination.”

Throwing herself onto him, Darcy chirped, “Okay. Thank you, baby! You’re the best…” She proceeded to show Bucky just how much she appreciated him, and their moans were so loud that even his keen Soldier’s hearing didn’t catch the vicious little chuckle from the closet.

[ace-of-gay]

home to the mind

Loki x reader

Warnings: physical contact/ cudding... cuddly loki

1,121 words

No pronouns or skintone used or implied

Welcome to all body types

Edited to the best of my ability

you are responsible for your own media consumption

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

It was one of the longest training days you had endured, all you had wanted to do by the end of it was relax in silence by yourself, you had too much human interaction so when faced with the opportunity you had decided it was the perfect chance to head to the only room you knew for sure would be silent and lack the need for interaction.

That was until you got there, you were unaware of the other person within the room, they however were aware of you the second you opened the door.

You had picked out your book and went to sit down, losing all connection to reality you never noticed the tall lanky figure lurking through the shadows.

Loki had seen you around plenty, he saw through the way you presented yourself, he could read every person like an open book but you however were much different, no matter how much you shared, it was never truly impactful information it was always small trivial things that would have no one knowing you as more than any passersby does, you kept to yourself when it came to your personal life so to find you partaking in an activity by yourself wasn’t the biggest surprise, in fact it meant you had something in common, possibly something to bond over.

Walking down the aisle, he’d spent so long having read almost every book in the library and to his knowledge the one you picked was one he’d recently read himself.

Weighing his options he decides to approach.

Long quiet steps he clears his throat to catch your attention, “how is it so far?” You could barely hear him but it was clear enough to understand, looking over your shoulder a smile present on you face.

“Its wonderful, I remember reading it back in high school any chance I could get”.

“So you know it well I presume?”.

You chuckle to yourself, “I know it very well, cover to cover basically”.

Going on about favorites from both yours and his childhoods, what characters you relate most to and much more it had gotten late, you however made a note to yourself to come to the library more often.

From that day forward you would meet in the library every Wednesday and after missions, winding down after long stressful days, sometimes reading and others just talking and getting to know each other, often just sitting in silence with the others company.

Occasionally reading the same book to take turns reading aloud to one another.

Both of you looked forward to meeting, finding peace and comfort in your hangouts, he had planned to ask if you wanted to hang out outside of Wednesdays in the library, without implications of it being a date or not, it was up to you, that was until he got to the library, searching all around and to not find you anywhere.

You hadn’t missed a Wednesday since you started, it worried him, so much so that he took a walk to your room to check up on you just to find you sick and in bed.

He took It upon himself to bring you back to full health, he brought you your favorite comfort food, ginger ale and a book along with a DVD copy of one of the movies you had talked about wanting to see.

You had invited him to stay as long as he was certain he wouldn’t catch your illness as he had mentioned it being basically impossible.

While miserable in the aspect of you being ill it was also the most fun you’d had in quiet a while, telling stories, eating your favorite food, and watching the movie, he didn’t expect it to happen but when you slumped over into his side he had finally realized how late it was, his cheeks tinting pink, it made him joyful that you were comfortable enough to fall asleep in his presence your arms wrapped around his slender frame nuzzling your cheek into his chest, it made him happy in a way he’s never felt, like your positivity and joy had spread from you to him in just a moment.

From then forward he’d invite you to watch movies, go out into town or even spend evenings star gazing, it wasn’t just about memories and books anymore, its about being close to you, savoring his time with you.

Each time he’d get as close as possible and let you fill the magnetic gap, he was sure he had been as inconspicuous with it as possible but you read him like your favorite book, it was obvious.

One particular night you had invited him to your room for movies and ‘silly Midgardian snacks’ as he called them.

You both huddled in close, the lights set low to make the movie feel more encapsulating, but his focus wasn’t on the film, it was the feeling of you held close next to him, the sound the hum in your breath when you were intrigued, the jump in your position when something intrigued you and how the light cast upon your features, you were completely aware of it.

He was so comfortable he didn't even realize he was falling asleep, curling into you his grip tight as ever, never something you would expect from him, his body wrapping itself around yours like you were a source of heat, his head resting upon your stomach he looked so at peace, no one had ever seen him like this but you, no one understood why you would hang out with someone like him but you didn’t care, he felt like home the way you felt the same to him.

You hand found its way to his silken hair cast around his face, gently brushing it back to see him, it startled him awake, he radiated shame and fear, frustration at himself for getting so close, surely it was obvious now.

“If you wanted to cuddle you could have just said so, you didn’t have to hide it”

Standing up to leave, a simple “I’m sorry” trailing his fearful glances.

Shaking your head you follow Standing up, your arms held out for him, “its okay Loki, I’m not upset whatsoever, I enjoy being close with you, it feels warming and comfortable, if you desire cuddles that’s all you have to say.”

And so with your words seeping, your mental walls open and he knows for certain you mean it completely, with that knowledge beaing only a slight hesitation he walks into your arms, wrapped tight in your hug he reciprocates the action while burying his face into your shoulder, this is the Loki you only you knew and it made you love him so much more.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

Sorry it took me so long to get this posted ive had writers block and now im quite literally sick

Tags:

@theaudacitytowrite thank you for the inspiration to write a cuddly loki fic

@vbecker10 cause im convinced you'd enjoy this as much as i did writing it

[jotun-design-party]

on fandom orientalism, ft. a quick visual example:

the example on the right is something i drew solely using references of the top results i saw on pinterest upon searching "jotun loki." please don’t roast my inconsistent handwriting

south asian cultures are often jumbled together for white artists of all kinds (authors, artists, movie directors) to create a sense of mystery and make things look "more foreign."

note: this doesn't touch on the antiblack racism in canon jötun designs; this post is primarily about fandom-sourced fetishization. i heavily encourage people to reblog and add onto this post anything i may have missed or added nuance

cut: links on orientalism, in-media examples, how this manifests in fandom-made content

i'd like to start off by saying that this post is a white person telling other white people how to spot orientalism in relation to fiction. i am by no means an expert on any of this, but my goal here is to start creating a less ignorant space that doesn't push people out of fandom.

i'm just trying to stir up more conversations about this and get other white people to think more critically about how they engage with the content they consume. nerd shit should never come with a sacrifice and it's extremely upsetting to see people of color consistently forced out of fandom communities, especially when modern superhero comics began as a way for jewish people to have a voice.

if this post upsets you, i don't want to hear it. don't tell me, "it's not that deep," or, "keep politics out of comics." it is that deep, and superhero comics have always been political. if you have the urge to leave a comment or send an anon about how you don't think it's a big deal, feel free to block me instead, because i don't care and you'll just get blocked anyway 👍

with that out of the way,

Q:

A:

there are countless ways to design a character in a way that makes it clear that they are an alien, or to make them sexy, and there is no excuse to perpetuate stereotype that put real-life people in danger to do so.

"Orientalist paintings and other forms of material culture... depict an 'exotic' and therefore racialized, feminized, and often sexualized culture from a distant land." [¹]

there are so many examples of this in loki fic and art. it's extremely common to see loki depicted as a feminine object of desire. they may have longer hair. clothing that serves more as an accessory than an outfit, that isn't suited to protect them from either the harsh cold of jötunheim or the sunburns one might get when surrounded by reflections of the sun off the snow. draped in jewelry, and in a compromising position.

i'm sure you can imagine how this can get especially out of hand in relation to thorki. i would speak more on thor's presence as both the white aesir prince or the strong barbaric jötun, but as i'm not comfortable consuming thorki content, i don't have enough context to speak on the stereotypes used outside of the art pieces i've seen while searching for jötun loki fanart.

i am, however, confident in saying that orientalism often serves as a device for fan creators to show a contrast between Asgard's white-viking-british-accent-magic-science-elegance. jötunheim, in the comics, is often portrayed as a less intelligent, cutthroat, barbaric, and bloodthirsty culture.

"There was always something unknown and uniquely different about Orients which reinforced the distinction between the European 'us' and Asian 'them.'" [²]

the green link in particular comes with a helpful tool for anyone who might be inexperienced in spotting racist themes in media. if you have trouble being confident that the media in question is orientalism, this link comes with a checklist scale to score how likely it is to be an offensive depiction.

an example that most of you will be familiar with is Disney's Aladdin (1992). the green link goes much more in-depth about the intricacies of Aladdin's orientalism, and i heavily HEAVILY encourage you to read it, as it will help fully grasp the way fetishization and demonization go hand in hand in orientalism.

here, i'd also like to use it as a comparison to show why this loki stuff is honestly... egregious.

by now, even the visuals here should seem very familiar.

the source goes on to use arranged marriage as an example of a common "trope" in orientalist fiction. as previously stated, i don't consume thorki fiction. however, i am EXTREMELY confident in making the guess that it tends to be a common theme when jötun loki is paired with an aesir thor.

i'd also heavily recommended this article and this wikipedia page, both on the negative and stereotypical portrayals of romani people; loki is a magic user, and i suspect that one of the reasons there is such heavy use of these appropriated, exaggerated, and fetishized themes and visuals is because of the demonization of romani people as tricksters, thieves, and witches.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let's see if I make it through Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

At Corissa’s insistence, and against your own reticence, you have a taste of nearly every course. The fiery red head gabs animatedly in her work, to her assistants and the servers, and even to you. You feel something very peculiar; you feel included.

That pleasant sensation is as fleeting as the night. The servers bring in the dishes, many untouched, and you clean them attentively, keeping the counters clear of clutter. Corissa mutters about the waste and has the leftovers scraped into containers, promising them to her hardworking staff. She even offers you one but you refuse, you’ve indulged enough. You suspect Mr. Laufeyson would be less than pleased to see you walking out with a to-go box.

You are not requested again to tend to the diners. Voices carry from down the hall and the front door opens and shuts between farewells. Amid the hue, you do not hear Mr. Laufeyson though you try not to listen intently.

Corissa and her staff depart with their work done and you’re left to clean up. It’s near midnight. You’re surprised at how long the gathering lasted and yet, you wouldn’t know what to expect. You’d never attended anything like that. You didn’t even go to your own high school graduation.

There’s a scuff and a shadow darken’s the edge of your vision. You lift your head to find Mr. Laufeyson crossing the threshold, his polished shoes clicking on the tile. You dip your head in acknowledgement and return to stacking the dishes neatly inside the cupboards.

“Do not forget the dining room. My guests proved to be animals,” he scoffs, “though, what use would you be if they didn’t leave you some work?”

You nod again. You close the cupboard door and move to the stemmed crystal. You open the glass cabinet that holds the various liquor vessels. You set each in tidy lines, following the pattern.

You wait for him to leave but he remains. Is he watching you or are you just paranoid? You clasp the door shut and face him, though you’re not intent on him. The dining room. You hope you might finish it quickly. You glance at the clock again.

“Do you recall what I told you at the beginning of the night?” He asks brusquely.

You gulp and part your lips, your words trapped in your chest.

“Speak,” he demands with a flippant flick of his fingers.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Not a look, not a word,” he retorts.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t–”

“The blond man. I saw your eyes stray,” he insists, “the worst thing you can ever do is lie to me.”

“I… I apologise, it wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

“Ah, enough,” he dismisses your protests, “this isn’t an argument. I am merely reminding you of the rules. I do hate to repeat myself.”

You seal your lips and put your chin down in deference. You made a mistake. You’re wrong, he’s right.

“Now you know. I expect it not to happen again,” he rebukes.

His sole squeaks on the floor as he spins and struts out. You look around, time to move on to the dining room. You tiptoe out and find the hallway empty. You creep down to the dining room and find it similarly abandoned.

You enter and begin your work. You wipe down the table and tidy little bits of food and forgotten napkins. You push in the chairs and remove a broken stem from one of the vases at the centre line of the table.

The clock ticks and heightens your impatience. You have to hurry if you’re going to catch the bus. If you don’t… you don’t know if you can budget a cab.

“There is another thing,” Mr. Laufeyson gives you a start as he appears through the archway, “something forgotten…”

You look at him with confusion stitched into your forehead. He reaches into his jacket and slips out a pinkish slip of paper. It’s folded into quarters with a curl in one corner. You recognise it immediately.

“I assume you didn’t mean to leave it on the floor,” he sneers as he comes closer, holding it between his index and middle fingers, “I almost tossed it but I did peruse it in case… Well, I don’t mean to pry…”

You take it and nearly thank him aloud. You look at the folded invoice and a cringe pinches your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’d dropped it. You would prefer to forget about it but that would hardly void the debt.

“You look well,” he muses. You flinch; what does he mean? “I did note it was for the same date you were absent however.”

You tuck the invoice into your pocket and fix another chair. He lurks close as you try not to falter. He puts his hand on the next chair to stop you.

“You may speak. Humour my intrigue. You don’t appear very sick.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels as if he’s making some joke you don’t understand. Your lips strain and you stare at his tie.

“My father had an emergency, Mr. Laufeyson. That is all. He is better now.”

“Ah, a loyal daughter,” he remarks, “it is almost endearing.”

You stand in a stalemate. Your eyes drift over to the clock and back to his slender tie. You’re almost done and you’ll have just enough time to get to the stop.

“I suppose you are eager,” he steps in between you and the clock, “to get home to your sick father.”

You clutch the cloth tight and scrunch your lips. Your stomach does somersaults. You want to beg him to let you finish so you can go home. So you’re not stranded but you already made yourself pathetic enough.

“I am not a man without empathy, I would not keep you long. However, I do wish to have a proper conversation,” he declares.

You nod and wring the cloth. You dare to peek at his face and find his attention on your hands. You still them and drop your eyes again. Is he going to fire you? Rather, tell the agency of your misdeeds?

“I would assume you rely on transit. I am in a rather bright mood after my little soiree so I feel of a mind to offer a favour. One which would allow us to converse,” he rolls the button of his jacket between his thumb and index, “I would drive you home and you would listen, yes?”

You nod and he shows his palm.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. That is very kind.”

“Isn’t it?” He preens and swirls away again, “ten minutes should be sufficient for you to wrap up. I will be at the door.”

“Yes. Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Wonderful,” he strolls out, his unusual glee putting you on guard.

🧹

As promised, Mr. Laufeyson is waiting at the front door. You only realise after checking the back door. You don’t feel good about accepting an unearned favour but the last bus is well and gone.

He opens the door as he sees you enter the foyer. To your surprise, he holds it for you to pass through first. You suppose it's a habit. He is fond of etiquette.

He follows and directs you to a sleek black car in the drive. You wait patiently at the passenger door as he unlocks it and lowers himself into the driver’s seat. It’s only then that you get in, gently closing the door. You put your kit between your feet and click your seat belt into place.

He turns the ignition and the engine hums quietly. It runs so smoothly, you barely feel it. He backs up before steering around the arch of driveway and towards the gate. He reaches to hit a button on the small fob dangling by the rear view and the wider gates split for him to pass through.

You wait for him to begin. He must be basking in your anticipation. Less than eager for what comes next, it's more a needling anxiety. 

“So, let us get down to it,” he begins, one hand on the wheel. The roads are near desolate in the late hour. “I’ve a proposition for you.”

You wait and listen. You assume that’s the deal still. He chuckles and carries on.

“An arrangement convenient for both of us. You see,” he pauses, exhaling as he measures his words, “I am not fond of the agency. I’ve not been for some time, neither have I had the time to search for an alternative. 

“Details are irrelevant. My ex-wife enlisted them for a maid. Just as she employed the gardener and the cook. She might be gone but her handiwork remains, though a very big void as well,” he turns down the next street as you twiddle your fingers, “that is too say, she managed the house and without her, I find myself lacking. I’ve not even the chance to acquire a house manager, but now…”

He lets his suggestion dangle but you’re not quite sure you understand. You hate to presume. Hate to think more of yourself than you should.

“What I’m proposing is that you step into her shoes. In the manner of taking on that management. The gardener, the cook, general maintenance and the like,” he explains, “but of course, you would also keep to your existing tasks, keep the house orderly in all ways.”

You still your hands and stare at your lap. You don’t really believe it. He thinks you capable of all that? Based on what? Some mopping?

“You are rather adept at following orders,” he says, “and you are in need of money, yes?”

You hunch down in shame.

“I will pay more than the agency for I would not take a cut as they do. You will be compensated appropriately for your efforts,” he assures, “as they would lessen mine.”

You look over the dash and at the road ahead. Your father will be home soon, he might need more help, and yet, you most certainly need money. You still have over a month left on probation and even after, you’re not guaranteed full-time hours.

“There would be a starting bonus,” he intones, filling the silence, “fifteen hundred. As an incentive.”

Your eyes burn. That’s what the invoice reads in red. He’s taunting you now. He knows that you need it badly. 

“This offer stands until you leave this car,” he says firmly, “so you may think about it.”

You blanch and keep your eyes forward. You can think all you want but that won’t change anything. There is no other answer. Even if it makes you nervous, even if you find that house stifling, and him terrifying. None of it matters. You need that money as much as your father needs you.

“I accept, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur. “I will do my best.”

He hums, a triumphant note, “I expect nothing less.”

🧹

You’re greeted by an empty house. It was too late to even think of going to the hospital. You wouldn’t want to wake your father during his recovery, and besides, his dejection sticks in your head. He told you not to come back.

You go to bed but don’t sleep very much. It’s hard in the lonely house. You want to tell your father that you got a new job. That you’re going to be able to pay for his hospital bills and that you’ll make things better. You will, when he gets home.

What has you just as wakeless is Mr. Laufeyson. He said you could start tomorrow. You’re nervous about that. Your only experience is the last month and a half of cleaning. He might expect more than you can do. Worse, you might not be able to meet those expectations.

You toss and turn, sleeping a few hours just before your alarm. You have your tea and get dressed. You bring your kit, just in case, and head out to catch the bus. You don’t like being in the house alone so you’re all too happy to get out.

You walk the block and a half from the bus stop. You realise as you come to the iron gate that you don’t have the new code. You stand cluelessly, locked out and listless. You notice the small button by the metal speakerbox. Does it work?

You tap the bell and wait. Nothing. You even lean in to listen to the speaker. It’s entirely dead. You try again. Still, nothing.

You lean in and peer through the bars, like a prisoner. The front door opens and Mr. Laufeyson appears, a harried pace with a hint of agitation. He comes to the other side and looks out at you. His eyes scan you from head to toe. He opens the gate from within.

“In, in,” he demands curtly, “are you not supposed to make my life easier?”

You step in and he swings the door shut harshly. He huffs and swiftly outpaces you back towards the door. You hesitate. You never go in that way.

“Do not waste my time,” he orders without looking back.

You jog to catch up with him. You hop up the steps behind his lithe gait and trail him inside. He stops and points to the mat. You leave your shoes on it even as he keeps his own on.

“I’ve a list made up. That is sufficient, yes?”

You nod and he sighs. He’s already moving as you slipping in an effort to keep up.

“Speak,” he drawls.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Very good,” he praises, a lilt of condescension dripping from his lips. “I trust you sent your resignation in. I would be happy to cut ties from that cursed agency at the soonest opportunity.”

You bite your lip. You didn’t even think of that. Your silence is telling.

“Add it to the list,” he says derisively.

[theic-manic]

Hello! I would like to ask if you or other Hellenic polytheists are okay with Gods x Reader stories. Sometimes this kind of story comes up for me and I'm like "🤨" I don't know

Hey there! I can't answer for all Polytheists, as we are all unique and have varying comfort levels with sexuality and erotica however I shall comment on my own perspective, as a non-reconstructionist: Personally, I love that you've asked me this when Hermes has come back from whatever errands he was running nice and strong because I have found that one of the UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis) "signs" I get when he's wanting to work with me directly is that my FYP on various socials will have Hermes fan art (some of it especially "slutty") , and Hermes x Reader and I have found that as a deity I associate with the algorithm he'll show my certain deity x reader content in general on various platforms. Last night I saw some fan art that made me realise we was definitely back. Occasionally I will feel drawn to looking certain content up, especially when Apollo is inspiring me.

I once had Apollo ask what i thought of a certain Apollo x Reader fic, and upon giving my approval, he explained that he "likes to inspire the writers and artists because their works are viewed by certain followers precisely when they need to view them". That's not to say that seeing deity x reader content is a guaranteed sign, however I do take Kledons and other omens into account when identifying which deity is reaching out to me and why. Finally, it is never my place, or the place of anyone else, to censor what other artists and creators do, which includes modern adaptations such as Kaos, PJO etc. So long as the creators aren't being disrespectful to the cultures the deities come from, I personally see no issue and from what I gather the majority of Deity x Reader content is based on the pop culture adaptation characters rather than actual deities. As for the content that's based on Mythology-deities than pop culture characters, if people feel drawn to expressing their connection with the divine in such a manner, power to them. While I live in an area known as "Little Greece", and work with some Greeks, I am not of Greek heritage and I am not a reconstructionist so I'm not about to start virtue signalling, I'll allow the Greeks to take space & speak on how they feel about this content themselves. As for the culture that does apply to me, as an ex- Norse Pagan-Polytheist of Scandinavian-Eastern European-German heritage on my paternal side, I had to learn many moons ago to treat media portrayals of the Gods as separate fictional characters for my own sanity, especially with all the Loki simps (I was a Loki devotee). It does become particularly cringe worthy when baby-Polytheists "Godspouse with Loki" and the "Loki" they are "worshipping" is Marvel Loki rather than Mythology Loki, however as long as folks aren't being disrespectful to Heathenry, Asatru or the cultures who worshipped the Norse gods it's not my business. (As an aside, I have recently had some signs of Loki wanting to work with me again so I will need to look into this further). The important question I have for you to reflect upon however is how do you feel about this content? If you dislike it, then I suggest that you simply keep scrolling and train your algorithm to prioritise other content. Please don't let the opinions of others dictate your experiences with the divine! This is your spiritual journey, fellow traveller. I hope this answers your ask well enough.

[stillness-in-green]

Saw your latest ask answer and the idea the author really wanted destruction to be all shigaraki was meant for reminded me of Loki from the mcu. Spoilers if you haven’t seen the show but in the first episode a Loki from before all his character development is shown his entire life in the mcu and during that there’s a monologue from mobius about how Loki exists only to cause death destruction and suffering but he services of other people so they can become the best versions of themselves. Just was curious if you had any thoughts on how his portrayal and handling compares with shigaraki since horikoshi is such a fan of western media especially comics.

I’m afraid I can’t really weigh in on TV Loki’s presentation because I haven’t watched any of the MCU shows since the Netflix ones.  MCU Loki’s also one of those characters I resent just slightly because their runaway popularity negatively impacted the story of other characters.  (MCU Tony is the far, far worse version of this, but I remember reading that Malekith in Thor 2 had his scenes reduced to make more room for Loki.)

My impression is that their superhero intake is more DC-centric, but I wonder if @linkspooky might have any insight?

That said, I do think, “You only exist for the betterment of other people, none of whom have the slightest chance of improving you in turn,” is a pretty loathsome sentiment.  Like, there’s some leeway there when you’re talking about the narrative role of a villain in the story they occupy, and it does sound like that was meant to be a fourth-wall breaking moment that acknowledges Loki as that villain.  But it’s a vile thing to tell a real person, and therefore a vile thing to tell a character in-story, regardless of how fourth-wall breaking its intention.

It’s also a particularly odd thing to say about Loki, who I understand to be a much more sympathetic figure in the MCU than he is in the comics![1]  Like, the guy who whose father lied to him and weaponized against his original people for centuries?  The guy who was hugely traumatized by the time he spent with Thanos?  The guy who fought on Thor’s side to save Asgard from Hela, who fully supported Thor from then up until being killed by Thanos?  That Loki exists only to cause death, destruction and suffering?  #Yikes

1: This is not to say Loki is totally without redeeming value in the comics!  I haven’t read anything like enough Thor or Avengers comics to say that, and obviously the more recent Young Loki iteration (though himself influenced by the MCU, iirc?) is intended to be sympathetic.  But the baseline Marvel comic Loki I know of is the grinning dude in the bodysuit with the horned helmet and cowl that means you never see his hair, a grown man who delights in causing problems on purpose.  Not nearly as soulful as Tom Hiddleston’s version!

I guess in that sense, it does remind me somewhat of Horikoshi’s treatment of Shigaraki, in that no matter how sympathetic his backstory or what connections he’s made with others or what good he might be capable of doing in the world, he has to be treated as an existence that in the long run can only cause harm, that must only ever be opposed, because to do otherwise would be to upend the entire framework (both in-universe and meta-narrative) in which he exists.

It’s just a really cynical way of looking at a character—that they’re only there for protagonists to level grind against until they’re sufficiently heroic that the antagonist is no longer useful to that purpose, at which point they can be killed or put back away in a box until the story needs them again.  Again, that is what antagonists do in a story, ultimately—serve as a contrast/warning/foil/motivator/whatever all else for the protagonists—but (Marge voice) that doesn’t mean they have to say it.  And also too, it’s hardly the only purpose an antagonist can serve!  What about the ones who are ultimately saved/won over by the protagonist?  What about expanding on the worldbuilding in ways the protagonist might not be able to?  What about calling attention to some problem in the world that the protagonist might not otherwise have noticed?  What about propelling the plot in the traditional “villains act” fashion?  What about getting the best song numbers?

The reductive absolutism of the claim reminds me that, some years ago, I got really into Captain Marvel (the Shazam! version, not the Marvel one, no offense to Carol), but it was frustrating because the whole concept of him seemed so rich in potential stories but so limited by the needs of a serialized medium.  The stories I imagined you could tell with Captain Marvel/Billy Batson were so interesting in part because of where those stories would end, but in a medium like American cape comics, they can’t end, they’re never allowed to, not permanently.

That problem carries over to comic book villains—they’re virtually never allowed to really and truly change, nor can they ever count on being really and truly dead, and that means they do only ever serve to make other characters the best versions of themselves,[2] and the best they can hope for is spates of antihero/reformed villain happiness in between writers.

2: “Best versions of themselves” here meaning, of course, “best suited to the needs of the story”.  Do not ask yourself if e.g. Batman might better like the person he would be if the Joker were ever allowed to make a complete and total permanent recovery.

That’s not the case in manga, of course, where stories end and characters die, and the finality makes for a profoundly different medium.  The difference does not help BNHA’s case, however, because that means there’s no cynical marketing or medium-based explanation for why Shigaraki and the other Villains don’t get a more hopeful ending—only the cynical ideological one.  That is, Horikoshi is either too unimaginative to rewrite his setting’s status quo, too afraid of the reader response to try, or he honestly believes that the Villains deserve the endings they got.

The last one is the most harrowing, because it would mean he was willing to actively sabotage the development and conclusions of his story’s protagonists because punishing the antagonists was more important to him.  That is, the Heroes are forced to end up distinctly less than the best possible versions of themselves because if they weren't—if they were allowed to be the idealists their world needed them to be in order for it to truly change—then the Villains might have gotten anything less than the fullest, heaviest extent of retribution their author believed had to be levied against them.

Thanks for the ask, @9trixieturner6!

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 5

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts), swearing, mentions of torture and rape. Loki being an ass.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Author's note: Sorry for the wait! Work and school got hectic. Hope you enjoy!!

Part 4

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your head is pounding as you begin to stir awake. You groan as your hands sink into the soft sheets. You stop abruptly.

This isn't my cot.

Your heart is racing in panic. Your head is laying on the fluffiest pillow you've ever touched and the silk from the sheets slide smoothly across your skin.

You become acutely aware that you're lying face down again and feel the shiver from the cold across your back. You jolt up and groan out loudly in pain as your wounds on your back stretch from the sudden movement. You’re breathing heavily and shaking as you sit up, feet dangling off the bed.

You take in your surroundings, realizing the room seems very familiar, as you scan the room and notice the emerald green sheets on the bed and the book on the night stand.

I'm in the king’s chambers.

You gasp and your eyes go wide as you fumble off the bed. Your chest is exposed, and you grab onto the first green blanket you spot and cover yourself, so you're decent enough.

You're alone. It's quiet. You turn to the large mirror that is up against the wall facing the bed and examine your back. You notice that it has almost healed completely, leaving thick, ragged scars across your back.

How long have I been out? This should have taken at least one month to fully heal… the wounds are completely closed, the scars are white and red.

You're staring them, realizing that they will forever be there marking your skin of the trauma you've endured.

"You're up." you hear a voice from behind you say.

You scream in surprise and jump in the air, backing away from the sound.

You look up at lock eyes with the king.

"Your majesty, I'm - I don't - I woke up…" you stumble over your words trying to explain yourself. You notice that you are indecently exposed within the kings chambers, uninvited, and hug the blanket closer to your chest.

You decide to stop talking and stare at the floor.

He smirks as he crosses his arms, evaluating the scene before him "I requested Banner clean your wounds after our conversation in the kitchen."

You look up at him confused. Why would he care? He ordered I get whipped for my retaliation… for defending myself… You feel the anger bubbling inside you.

How dare he pretend to care? To make up this act before me when all he has done is make me suffer since the day I arrived.

You say nothing as you bite the inside of your cheek to prevent the words from spilling out. You know the consequences of speaking to a royal in such manner, let alone a king, would land you in much more dire situations than before.

The king takes a tentative step forward and you take a step back. He notices this and stops in his tracks, folding his hands together behind his back.

"You fear me. You despise me." He declares matter of fact.

You say nothing again. I'm much better off keeping my mouth shut. You stare at him with a fire in your eyes. Anger which you can never act upon.

He steps forward again, and you step back.

"I healed you. Your wounds were very badly infected. Banner thought you wouldn't make it past the night. I used my magic but couldn't get rid of the scars… they are too deep." he explains to you.

Because of you, you spoiled sheltered asshole! Oh, fuck it. If he kills me now it will be better than living this so-called life.

You straighten your posture and stare at him directly in the eyes. A sign of confidence and defiance. You think you see a spark behind his eyes as you do this and a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Why?" you say stoically.

"Why, what? Be specific, darling." he says smugly.

"Why did you heal me?" you ask angrily, voice rising slightly from frustration.

"Because you were hurt."

Your jaw ticks. He's doing it on purpose to piss me off.

"Why do you care that I am hurt?" you push further.

"Hmmmm….." he taps his foot and lifts his chin in thought.

Pompous prick.

"I missed your work as my maid. You were rather thorough." he replies, head tilting to the side in challenge.

That's it. I've had enough. Fuck the consequences.

Your voice rises as you let go of your pent-up anger "Are you kidding me?! You missed my work as your MAID? Am I just an object? A toy you can fuck around with when you're bored?!"

He says nothing as he lets you continue your rant.

"You send those disgusting rats you call guards to beat, rape and abuse the staff all they want. We can't say a damn word about it without getting beaten to a pulp to keep our mouths shut. I have succumbed to MONTHS of this fucking treatment, beaten down like a dog when I refused to submit to the Snake's desires. Every time he said it was a special message from YOU as a result of my defiance.” You point your finger at him and approach him challengingly, eyes seething with rage and pain.

“I don't regret a single thing I did. I wish I would have gouged his fucking eyes out when I had a chance! I defend myself from being forced onto and you order them to whip me because of it?!” What kind a monster are you? I've heard the stories, and I believed them when it came to war, but I never thought you to be so callous towards your own people, your own staff.”

You’re waving your arm in the air and your eyes and stinging, tears forming. You swallow hard and blink them away, refusing to let him see how much pain he has truly inflicted upon you internally. Feeling the anger bubbling up again, you continue.

“Then! THEN, YOU come to MY aid like I'm some damsel in distress? I DON'T DESERVE ANY OF THIS SHIT!" you’re panting and your voice is raw from screaming out your rant.

You realize your breathing heavily and look down at the floor, taking some slow breaths to calm down. The reality of what you’ve just done dawns on you, and you accept your fate. Your eyes become void of everything. When you lift your gaze up to his and lock eyes, you see something flash across his face. Pain? Worry?

"Just kill me now. I don't care what or how you do it just end it already. I will not be treated as a toy you can bend to your own desires and beat for your own pleasure. This isn't a life worth living. I would rather die than live another day inside these palace walls." Your voice calm and stoic.

You stare at him and notice all smugness has disappeared. Now, his jaw is locked, fists tightly at his side making his knuckles turn white. The anger in his eyes terrifies you.

You have nothing left in you to start begging he spare your life. "I understand the consequences of my actions." you say while slowly getting to your knees and maintain eye contact "Nothing I said was a lie, I regret nothing. I only ask for one thing: End it quickly."

You hear him approach you when he stops mere inches away. You close your eyes in anticipation, expecting the inevitable and let out a deep sigh.

You begin to smile, realizing your pain will be over soon and you will be able to join your family again among the stars. You feel a single tear fall down your cheek.

"Get up." he commands. Your brows furrow in confusion as you open your eyes and look up at him.

"Do not make me repeat myself." he says sternly.

You slowly get up and face him. Your neck slightly craned up from his imposing height, to meet his gaze.

“Here. Change in the bathroom. I will be waiting. There is much to discuss.”

You stare at him quizzically, brows furrowing in confusion. What is going on? In your confused and shocked state, you grab the clothes he has outstretched to you and walk to the bathroom. You look at your reflection, your bruises and cuts are gone but the look in your own eyes surprises you. Apathy. You realize you feel nothing, you care for nothing anymore.

Sighing heavily, you throw on the green pyjamas he provided. They are clearly too big for you, but you manage to tighten the shorts as much as possible around your frame with an elastic and the short-sleeve shirt cascades down to your knees.

What will he do to me? Fear courses through you, adrenaline kicks in and you start flinging the cabinets open.

There has to be something in here, please. Your breathing is heavy as you shakily throw things around until you spot the scissors and snatch them.

This is it. Do I do it? I can’t win against him. He’s a god for fuck’s sake! This is my only chance to escape. I know what he is capable of, he will hold me hostage and bend me at his will. I would rather die than let that happen again. I’ll be damned before I let a man control me again.

Your back is facing the door ,wrist outstretched as you raise the scissors. As you begin to lower them towards your wrist, you feel a strong hand grab onto yours, stopping it mid-air.

Suddenly you’re spun around and pinned against the wall, facing the king.

You stare into his eyes and notice the shocking swirl of emotions in his bright emerald eyes as they bore into yours. You don’t understand what it is. It looks like hurt?

His nostrils are flaring, his hand harshly holding yours above your head.

You gulp heavily. Suddenly aware of your proximity to him, your chest only inches apart.

“Drop it.” He commands.

You’re breathing heavily out of… fear? Adrenaline?

Before you can decipher your emotions you feel his hand place pressure over yours as your hand reflexively opens and the scissors scatter across the tile.

“You forget I am a God. I see all, I hear all, I know all.” He says, leaning in closer.

You realise there is no way out. Might as well go out with a bang.

“Do you? Hear all? See all? Know all? Almighty god”. You see his eyes flash and a smirk form across his face.

“Watch your mouth, maid.” He hisses.

“Or what?” you challenged. “You’ll kill me? Throw me to the dungeons? Be my guest. I’ll just try killing myself again until I succeed. I don’t care about this world, it has brought nothing but pain into my life. I don’t care what you do to me, but I’ll be damned before I let another man control me. God or not.” You say through gritted teeth.

He sees your eyes flash with emotions you can’t place.

There she is. Loki thinks to himself.

“I have more fitting plans for a woman such as yourself.” He says as he backs away from you, dropping your hand.

“Try that again, and I won’t stop you.” He says sternly.

“Is that supposed to be a threat? Sounds like a gift to me. By all means…. Please don’t, your highness…” you say as you mockingly curtsy to him.

His grits his teeth as he corners you against the wall once again. His hands begin to glow green.

Momentarily, your eyes flash with fear, then amazement. You turn your head and admire the glow.

“Let me reiterate.” His voice, breaks you from your trance as you look up at him again. He approaches you even closer, your chests barely inches apart.

“Try that again, and I’ll make you wish you were truly dead. Don’t push your luck.” He threatens.

You gulp heavily.

You see satisfaction cross his features as he realizes he has won this argument. He backs away and looks you up down and nods with a smirk.

“Now, as I said, we have much to discuss.” He steps to side and to the bedroom with one arm. You sigh heavily, defeated and with no other choice, you make your way out of the bathroom.

Fucking prick.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let me know what you all think of the story so far!! Feedback is welcome!

Part 6

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

[sigyn-foxyposts]

Day 5: Your Thoughts on Loki and Sigyn and why you support them!

I don't know why I'm so obsessed with them and their relationship and always feel the need to insert Sigyn in media where she's missing, but I just can't stop supporting their characters. Maybe it's because they're shrouded in mystery, that they remind us of our own relationships? (Calling myself out) Perhaps they're just comforting, holding some sort or symbolism to our struggles?

If it isn't obvious, I'm named after Sigyn for a reason. But I didn't give myself that name ironically enough! It was given by someone that knows me very well and love's me. 🥹

We might not know a lot about Sigyn but even then, the fact she's forgotten yet holds such a strong role in the ONE story we have about her. Its something so special and meaningful, that goes for many of us I believe! She was always there to support Loki, even in the darkest times.

Even after something so traumatic that tears most couples apart, she could've completely blamed him for and left. But she stayed and never left. She probably understood him unlike everyone else and showed him compassion. She chose to love and marry him, to have bare his children simply because they probably thought it was time they expand their own little family. No doubt that she knew about Sleipnir, Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel, but did that really scare or stop her? Nope, why would it!