#the original text post says orbs instead of cubes

[eyeballsoup7310]

Redraw of a very old thing I found in my drafts

Original /\

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 15

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

Notes: I have so much to do! So, of course, I’m procrastinating. Whoop!

=

Loki watched closely as Delilah picked up her trilling mobile phone for what was the twelfth time that morning. With a small smile, she read the accompanying text message and then sent back some appropriate response. The phone was back on the coffee table a second later, and she moved her Knight against one of Loki's pawns.

"You're popular today," he mentioned casually, staring over the rim of his coffee cup.

Lilah shrugged. "I guess so." Her phone buzzed with a phone call. She eyed the caller ID and sent Loki a smile. "I have to take this. Don't cheat!"

With little more than a hop, she was on her feet and pacing around his small kitchen with her phone, laughing at something that was said on the other side of the line. Loki narrowed his gaze, pondering what the ruckus could be while he switched her Queen around the board. When she sat back down to the game, she rolled her eyes and righted all of the pieces to their original position.

"Hey, Pygmy Puff?"

Both Loki and Delilah tilted their heads curiously at the sound of Tony's voice. Apparently his AI was learning new tricks.

"Yes, boss?"

"Don't be mad," Tony's voice prefaced, "but something's getting delivered to your place as we speak. It's really pretty, though. I think you'll like 'em."

The woman hesitated before answering. "I thought I told you no more gifting–"

"But it's your–"

"Tony, it's just–"

"Pleeeease," the disembodied voice pleaded until Delilah groaned.

"That's not fair," she argued, but he was still pleading. "Fine. It's fine. You win. Thank you," she acquiesced, knocking one of Loki's bishops off the board.

"You're welcome, Honeybee. Take it easy, you hear!" Tony said a quick farewell before cutting off.

Loki stared curiously at Lilah who anxiously tapped her fingers down on the solid dark oak of the coffee table. He quickly moved his Queen into position. "Checkmate," he announced, easily. "You're off your game today. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I–"

"Oh," Tony's voice came back in. "And, happy birthday."

Lilah instantly winced at the wide-eyed expression Loki suddenly acquired. "I-it's your birthday? Today's your birthday?"

"I… well… yeah, but… it's," she struggled to find a suitable explanation for failing to mention this important occasion to Loki when she caught the edge of his lips curling upward. "And, you already found out, didn't you?"

He let out a deep chuckle that thrilled and annoyed her in equal measure. "I know everything, darling." With a darkened smile, he stalked forward across the coffee table to the comfortable armchair she was sitting in. Delilah leaned back, swallowing thickly when the demigod did not stop short of her seat, but instead towered over her until her back was pressed against the overstuffed fabric. Loki's lips skimmed her neck as he reached around her, but before he could make any real purchase on her twitching pulse point, he had leaned back, holding a brightly wrapped parcel between them. "Everything," he restated, huskily, drawing a shiver from her spine.

Loki gestured the parcel and Lilah reached for it with timid hands. The box was a cube, perfectly wrapped in shimmering green paper with a golden bow. A tag dangled from the bow declaring To the prettiest of Queened pawns on her natal day with all my love. May your judgement be swift and mercy, eternal. xo. He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn't do anything further than turn the box in her hands.

"It's so pretty," she began, "I don't want to ruin it."

"Aren't you curious?" He asked, teasingly, shifting her aside until he was sat on the armchair with her on his lap. He pressed a kiss to her temple the second she got settled in and sighed. "Don't you want to know what I think is an acceptable gift? You might have your own micronation to take care of now."

"You're really excited about this and I'm not sure if that's a good thing," she mused, though she settled back against his chest, delicately peeling away the paper that seemed to be held together with sheer force of will and complicated pleating patterns. The paper fell away and she was left with a black box, roughly the size of her hand, with some small hinges at the top. Her fingers worked the delicate hook catch and let the box open with a pop. Her fingers fished out a glass orb, containing a multitude of colored glitter, surrounding many crudely drawn little figures frozen perfectly in time.

"I might have had some help with that. I mean, I did do the whole magic bit, but I suppose credit where credit is due."

"You just have a little minion army, don't you?" Delilah laughed.

"Of course I do, pet. To make pretty things for you," he retorted in a whisper and lay a chaste kiss on her lips. "Keep going."

Another dip in the box came up with a smaller velvet box she promptly opened. Two medallions rested on a dainty silver chain, etched with a set of runes on each. "I know that one is yours," she thought aloud, tracing her finger over his High Asgardian rune. "Is that mine?"

"Clever girl," he whispered, carefully sounding out the runes. "I may or may not have made it with the sole purpose of protecting you."

"What? How?"

"Pray you never find out, love." Another kiss to her temple and he helped affix the chain around her neck with nimble fingers. Delilah offered him a smile, absorbing his enthusiasm and returning it in a kiss, her hands carding through his shortened locks with a dreamy sigh. "There's something more."

She scraped the bottom of the box and produced a black collar, with silver clasps and a circular medallion hanging from the middle. Lilah could barely contain her laughter. "It's cute, but I don't think it will quite fit, Lokes."

"It's not for me, I assure you." Loki rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling like a fool. "Or you, though I am tempted to make you a soft velvet thing such as this for research."

"Then, what… Delivery?" Her eyes widened with excitement.

"Yes, perhaps that was what Stark meant when he–" 

She had already flown off his lap, clutching her glass globe and making haste through the door. 

"Will you wait for…? Oh, Norns, she is incorrigible." 

He made after her with a quick pace, sliding to a stop in front of her door. The glass orb was already on display on her bookshelf, and she was carefully bending over a box with airholes and a large red bow on top. She made a whimpering sound as she glanced over at him, almost vibrating with excitement. The bow was undone and the top hastily discarded. From amid a high-pitched coo, she pulled out a charcoal and black Norwegian forest tabby cat, small and sleepy, and impossibly fluffy. "I see you've found Einherjar."

"Einherjar?"

"Asgardian army. These cats are of Asgardian descent and they're surprisingly good guards, so…" he trailed off, balancing back and forth on his heels, anxious. "Do you like him?"

"I will kill anyone who dares hurt my baby." The kitten was purring contentedly, a single paw onto Delilah's cheek.

Loki shot her a genuine smile. "I'm glad. A little concerning, but glad." He stuck his hands in his pockets of his dark trousers to keep from fidgeting. "May you live an eternity longer, darling." Her lip quivered suddenly, hot tears spilling out the corners of her eyes, unbidden. "What did I say wrong?" She shook her head vehemently, and all he could do was wrap his arms around her, making a little parcel out of Delilah and Einherjar he was meant to keep away from harm. "Have I done something to upset you?"

Delilah sniffed, adjusting the fluffy bundle in her arms to free a hand to wipe at her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just been a while since I had such an extravagant birthday." She hiccupped a sniffle. "I never let Tony throw me a party or anything because I didn't want my parents...," she trailed off to Loki brushing his fingers down her cheek.

"Oh, love. If you think this is extravagant..." He let out a sigh and smiled devilishly at her. "I am going to shower you in pretty things and baubles and gems... I will make you blush to think of the treasures you have." His nimble fingers carded through her short, shaggy locks, surprising himself in how much comfort he gleaned from simply doting over her. "I want to promise you a world you can mold to your whim–"

"Loki–"

"I'm simply saying that I want to, not that I am, darling." He kissed the very tip of her nose, smiling genuinely at her giggling, eyes shining with mirth. "Now, I promised I wouldn't say anything but…"

Delilah sighed knowingly. "Party?"

"Yes, Loud and large and obnoxious and you are late for it." Loki ignored her loud complaints, making a show of putting the kitten down onto the fluffy carpet before attempting to herd her out the door. He humored her resistance just long enough to justify throwing the slight woman over his shoulder and marching a screeching Delilah down the relatively calm corridor.

[orpheusterminals]

Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes

..I am thinking of writing this book you are reading, I am going to call it:

Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes

The Secrets of the Empire of the Nine, Revealed !

or

( the Further Adventures of Frank Fuckface edited by Iason Ragnar Bellerophon.) 

Part Two: Straight outta The White Feathered Octopus

2017© Tetragrammatron Press

(cue Cavemanrobot holding up the DODECATRON logo, by Biscuit Boy, Britton Walters)

Beautiful Greenberg, Monumenta, New Korpoils, The Untitled Snakes of Assyria, Helios Three, Sol, Milky Way, The Red Universe, Oversoul Seven.

As of right NOW! Here it is…

THAR SHE BLOWS, Tis a piny she’ a whore!

When we last left our hero, Jace the Ace, the original soulseeker, he was sitting on a love seat in a small Ape-artment in Beautiful Greenberg, with his 71 year old one legged father, they had both just spilt a bottle of Gato One Eye Wine, and 40oz. Of magic mushrooms….

A event it was Bellerophon was to term: The White Feathered Octopus.

This is the peak of the movie talking about Danny Kaye in Wonderman!

It explains everything!

Post War World Two, healing would the mind and the heart

The thinker and the clown!

What is this trick photography, YES IT IS!

Two-way ticket, the 4-d man, the clown is the trickerts-

No telling what I can do when I learn the ropes,

Oh what a set up when I wasted all that time living

The secrets of life were solid for a dime (nothing a symbolic boon at best) they offer all the various – lustful, muses each a color of the rainbow, the young lover pulls upon them all, the solution, the soul union, to finding love either getting the man you want to notice you or to find new lover or both is to be polyamorius to play the field, not just with love, Song of Solomon, to play the field of life to explore all the different kinds of being you can be, mother, lover, whore, child, wife, ex-wife, monster, body, object, image. With young man falling before you. That will instill lust in your true love to struggle to then win you, or die trying

The Perpetual Grinning Giantess

Okay, get up, push your hands down on the rug, flip over, on the knees, Arch the back, strech out back, Arch again, PAIN!, tight exhausted doing nothing calf muscle, PAIN!, up on your feet, Broken Wagon wheel feeling, pivot, push forward, thought the apartment, Dad there in his chair so bored, now so delighted that I am coming thought the kitchen over to him. It is maybe 10, I don’t know 10:20? Dad could not wait for me to make coffee, he have has been able to figure out how to use the espresso maker, so instead I see what is left of his Cowboy Coffee.

Recipe for Cowboy Coffee

Two tablespoons of coffee grounds

Pour directly into a small cooking pot

Drop in One Cup of Water

Do not mix!

Heating until boil and continue to boil until contents have boiled over leaving burnt grounds chemically bonded forever in the porcelain stove top

Hysterically pour directly into whatever vessel you can find regardless of cleanliness, the mug you left overnight with 4 or 5 tea bags from last night will work nicely, or the Pyrex measuring cup, or a soup bowl, our take a slightly smaller cooking pot and pour it in there, just do it NOW!

Drop in an ice cube, drop the tray still filled with more ice onto the floor and kick it under the stove.

Add one to fifteen packs of the cheapest imitation sugar to taste

Drink one scalding sip, then let sit till ice cold, then dump into sink.

Piss in the mug, and hide it behind the chair

Forget about it, then a few days from now kick the mug over with enough force to cause it to be smashed to more manageable bits

And That’s Cowboy Coffee, enjoy.

Without saying a word, I go straight into the shower, PAIN! Find the Monkey Wretch we use to turn the hot water on with, the knob fell off a few weeks ago, I would ask the landlord to fix it, but since we are behind in the rent it makes it awkward. PAIN!

Get the water really HOT, turn off the lights, in the in shower, now down onto my knees, pressing my feet hard against the surface of the tub near the drain. PAIN!

Arching my back, arms under my frame for support, pushing and pulling my next, compressing my spine, sucking in my gut, as tight and I can, release and again and again. IN the Dark, IN the Steam, eye shut tight, making a pillow with my hands, how else would anyone make any pillow of any kind without their hands? The inner surface of my eyelids, opens up to a long subterranean florescent hallway, I am following a pleasing figure slightly in front of me, I am enjoying my point of view.

The Perpetual Grinning Giantess, who is a fusion of past girlfriends, a buxom, dark haired beauty with amalgamated features, in a thick tangerine turtle neck, and short pelted wool skirt, with knee high matching Clementine stockings, finds me in a dark corridor and taking my hand leads me down into a takes me to the underground bunker, that I always knew would be at my disposable if I need it. Actually it is a palace, long halls, tapestries, modernist sculptures and fountains.

The Giantess leads me to where the strange weapons, ornate armor, and incomprehensible gizmos, taken from other worlds, are stored. The orange paint job on the concrete brick walls of the armory matches her heaving sweater. And we joke about it. She speaks in a rhythmic sing-song manner with left field code words dovetailing the ends, and cresting the middle of her sentences. It was as if she was trying to teach me a code, or perhaps an alternative language that happened to use the same words as English but with different meanings, or both those things.

Suddenly I notice that there is a book in the back of the armory, behind glass. The giantess explains to me that it was the one last book in this world. All the others were destroyed. It is a thick old fashion book kept enshrined upon a pillow. Making a corny Ray Bradbury joke, I asked if it was Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe.

The Giantess, looked at me with a blank stare and said it was, Tobacco and other Consumable Ash Residue, of Cigarettes, Cigars and Pipes for Forensic Criminology by Sherlock Holmes. As if I was foolish to think it could be any other book.

With a careful single motion she touched a tiny button on the side of the book’s pedestal, and glass, or what I thought was glass, instantly turned to cool steam flying away from the book. The whole bunker filled with a strong whiff of thick dust, that smell that only an old book can provide.

But, what a book! “May I?”

“Jugular! If justice is done, please just be careful, here use these gloves to turn the pages..”

I suppose the closest thing I could compare to the book would be the Voynich manuscript, Which I had been allowed to see when I was a grad student. This book seemed even more cryptic, page after page of elaborate diagrams of smoke, smokers, pipes, hookahs, and the various plants they are harvested from, but text was equally filled with wirework half-see through people, animals, and monsters. All of it appeared to be cross-connected with astronomical bodies; suns, moons, and stars of astronomy and astrology. One series of 78 diagrams depicts unconventional drawings for the zodiacal constellations from around the world ( a Winged Minotaur carrying a giant stone covered in dozen of human eye ball for Taurus, an eight legged centaur with a mane of fire and ice, brandishing a crossbow for Sagittarius, The Vedic Head of the Demon depicted as a man with a puppet on a stick riding a toad, a male and female pair of mere-people in coitis within a golden egg for Pisces, you get the idea).

There where different bevels running down the pages of the text block, so that fingers could easily find categories. In a section that appeared to cover geography I have a dozens different Maps of the earth, the largest of which folded-out in a special section of the book in one dived poster page, gingerly opening my six foot six inches arm span up to reveal a shockingly detailed chart of a planet called Helios Three, in the lower middle right of the map, the entire known land masses of our earth were represented as a tiny chain of islands the size of Hawaii all sharing the label Mundania, surrounded by quaint old timey sea-serpents, mostly hybrids of screaming women with hydra similar to classic allegorical images of Sin personified, in an area called the Internos Ocean, on a awesomely gargantuan orb filled to accommodate vast super-continents with labels that I could roughly translate as Atlemuriatis, Prospero’s Lillblefuscuiput, Ozqbar, and Xanthadu.

I laughed “This is an amazing document, a work of art onto itself, whoever made it really put their all into it, but Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, he is not a real person, it is a common misunderstanding that inspired this Obsessive Prankster.”

The Giantess, saw and raised my laugh, with a slightly perturbed “Blacktail! You have made a blunder!, Doyle, that asshole? He was a puppet, an actor! Adfluxion, the account is full of errors! WE hired him to distract the general populous! I don’t know what Sherlock saw in that empty headed chowderhead, that hapless little man believed in ghosts! Modishly, a mismanaged affair.

I asked her what she meant by that, was there something in the text besides the new revealed to be real Holmes’ study of tobacco ash, she said yes. The she made a joke herself, with a slightly different smile, a sexy twist in the curve of her lips,

she said. “Rollable, your request is unreasonable, I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

“Okay, ha!” hoping over to a sturdy looking cot with a rainbow of earth tone striped wool blanket atop it and now under by backside. “ So Holmes, was an actual person, like some sort of Wold Newtonian idea.”

“World Newtonian, Cellar, the cheaper the better?” as she subtly shifted her weight to from on elaborately combat booted basketball size cafe muscle to the other, to align herself askew with a tilt of her solid fetching jawline.

Reaching over and strapping, what I thought were binoculars over my eyes, “No Wold, as in a meteorite which fell in Wold Newton, Yorkshire, England, on December 13, 1795” after a bit of fiddling the switches I found on their side, binoculars warmly activate with a peachy hum. “Which gave rise to an obscured piece of pulp fiction fandom, that plays around with ideas about fictional characters being secretly retold stories of real adventurers.”

A rush of colors and hydrographic information filled my eyes, I was seeing the world based upon the about of water that exist within objects. Glancing over to the book was blank save for tiny dancing golden stars, The Giantess however, towering over me a now a swirling sea of turquoise, teal, and white poured at lightspeed into her skin, with the thickness and shape of a clear emerald old timey cola bottle now slightly larger than human scale, with faint flakes of tulip and melon pulsating at constellations filled with a zoo of tiny totem creatures, where her organs must be, as flares shoot off from the end points of her circulation. What was once and will soon again be her hand reaches over to my face, thousands of carnation and cream carrousels being patrolled by squadrons of invisible sea lions, swim up through her fingertips. She looked like one of the drawings in the manuscript, only brought into shock clarity. I thought to tell her, but I figured she must already know that.

“He called it a supernova of genetic splendor”.

Pulling the hydroculars off my face, with a genteel grimace, her ample right breast brushing against my raised up left knee for an ecstatic second, “Who is He? And where did you hear about this?”

“Oh sorry, I did that classic male thing, and just spoke as if you could read my mind! He is Philip Jose Farmer, that writer I told you about before, he put forth the idea that the meteorite was radioactive and caused beneficial genetic mutations in those exposed to it. That is the fun in Farmer, he plays fast and loose with the facts working them into his fiction. It really could have been anything, ties in with The Golden Fleece, Holy Grail, Super Solider Serum, a oddball device so that heroes can be spawned from mortal men, gives the reader, the slimmest of chances that there might be a….”

“Mustard Seed of Truth?” she completed the words for me, then added “Enringed, the news causes great excitement!”

As my eye re-adjusts to the cold light of the room, I ask myself if I really needed to start talking about pulp fiction fandom, and related nonsense, along with rattling off way too much information to a kind girl that is just being sweet and listening, because your starting to date one another.

The Professor, The Know it All, those are strong impulses in me, I think it is a direct result of feeling stupid in school, being labeled “learning disabled”, knowing that you are smart, but being treated like you have shit for brains, brings out the need to prove it, prove hard and fast. When you’re a larger man than average, it does not help either, people will just assume that if you are big, and my big I mean fat and tall, that you are also mentally retarded.

Such is life, right, we all have our crosses to bear, even a Bear.

But I am who I am and that stuff is important to me, the sabertooth is out of the bag.

Pushing a series of thin sliver bracelet up her wrist, “Well, actually Sherlock was just his code name, No Holmes was real! Expect was really your ancestor, Dr. Joseph Bell, who hand picked Doyle when, he had worked for Bell as a clerk at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary.”

“The E.R.I.?” making a joke, as if I was already familiar with so random war hospital, “Whoa, there sunshine, what are you talking about? huunnnnunun!” I said with my nervous laugh dancing up behind my words. “Why, would he do that? For what purpose?” pushing pass her, walking about over to the book again.

“In order that to better hide the knowledge, of course!. If it were not for him and the wisdom he encoded in this book all would be lost! If this book fell into the hands of most people they would think it was perhaps a prop from a theatrical production, or the ravings of a nutjob at best. Probably the poor soul would just burn it for kindling.”

The great burden of it all on her face, a afternoon shadow falling indoors onto hard wood floors.

“ That is why you are here, Jason, it is all here in the book, ever wonder why you would even know about some hairbrained pastime like that Fig Newton, or whatever you called that Grail stone! To get you ready for this day, this moment everyday there are new entries on the blank pages, new diagrams, new recipes! He did something to the ink, so that it would appear bit by bit, as if it is a clock, the book is alive and has a time delay for information. So far I have figured out that much, and that when he is talking about smoke is does not mean smoke, he means the residue of activity all human activity, and maybe other forms of higher and lower life. It is too much to handle, We need you to work with me on recording it all down, interrupting it, figure out how to use it. .”

The adventure suit was scarlet, and goldenrod, with cyan tiger stripe in artful placment…..