#thor gouged someone's eye out once

[the-mjolnir-owner]

Loki stealing an eyeball 🤝 Hela slashing Thor's eyeball

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.  

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.  

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint? 

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see. 

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.  

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.  

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.  

It won’t happen again.  

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.  

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.  

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more. 

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away. 

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.  

But a mortal is no match for a god.  

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice. 

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.  

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.  

Loki hates her.  

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.  

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.  

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard. 

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.  

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ” 

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?  

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ” 

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?  

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ” 

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.  

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?” 

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —” 

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.  

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.  

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.” 

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.  

Loki almost laughs. 

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it. 

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.  

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His. 

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.  

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.  

Oh how wrong he is.  

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.  

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.  

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant. 

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil. 

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.  

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed. 

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.  

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it. 

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity. 

(But Loki was never given a choice.) 

Alas, Loki is already insane. 

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.  

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.  

Loki scoffs.  

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul. 

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.) 

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind. 

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity. 

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.) 

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.  

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?  

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.  

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.  

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.  

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.  

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.  

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.  

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.  

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.  

Loki laughs.  

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.  

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory? 

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now. 

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.  

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.  

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms. 

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?  

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.  

Not that Loki could blame her. 

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.  

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.  

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.  

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room. 

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel . 

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate. 

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor. 

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .  

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.  

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.  

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer. 

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.  

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.  

Loki wants that. 

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind. 

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down. 

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon. 

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book. 

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them. 

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.  

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.  

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body. 

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.  

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard’s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.  

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.  

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.  

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.  

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.  

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.  

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.  

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants��, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.  

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.  

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.  

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?” 

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal. 

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.” 

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.” 

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.  

“Can I come in?” 

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.  

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.  

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.  

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds. 

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?” 

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor. 

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.  

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her. 

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.” 

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.  

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.” 

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.  

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.” 

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.  

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.  

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry. 

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.  

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself. 

Fuck. 

______________________________ 

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.  

- Charles Bukowski 

______________________________

Previous Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[thisisawonderfulusername]

for all time, always

episode one, part two

loki laufeyson x reader

summary: you watch a reel of your own set path.

warnings: part of it is achingly sweet, part of it is very angsty, i had to take breaks while writing it. can't think of anything else, tell me if you spot something, though!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i came up with a name for this series!!!!! and yeah, i probably could have fit this in the first part. but i feel like it would have ruined the feelings. i cried while writing certain parts. it felt like i was gouging my heart out, honestly. but that makes me proud that i can make myself cry lmfao. i hope you like!

your life flashed before your eyes. but it wasn’t in an ‘i’m dying’ way.

after saving you from being ‘reset’, whatever that meant, mobius had brought you to a giant, plain looking room, that had a table for two set in the middle. he told you he’d be back, and once again, you were separated from loki.

it filled you with anxiety. there was always the possibility of him getting himself killed by these people who swore they were ‘protecting the timeline’ by doing something stupid. trying to escape, attacking mobius- who you found to be quite nice, and he'd probably find some other way to piss someone off.

and you were stuck here, unable to do anything if that did happen.

being in the large room, alone, proved to be quite boring. you did a lap around the perimeter, examining the walls and their lack of decoration. the raised platforms that extended a few feet away from them. the grey pillars that were sectioned off by a bright orange wall in between. by the door, the wall had letters painted on to say ‘time theater’. underneath was a large six.

your eyebrows furrow. what could a time theater be?

when you go to the table, you see a small, sphere-shaped device. it had different buttons and sliding levers that you assumed controlled it. inside was something that looked like a cassette tape.

you push one of the buttons and a light shines out of it, projecting onto the wall ahead of you the tva logo. pursing your lips, you take a seat in the chair in front of the device.

the logo dissipates and a new image appears. your home planet. it is shrouded in clouds and gloom.

the day it was destroyed.

a royal guard is pulling a little girl away from her father, who is telling her he loves her with all his heart.

the young girl is crying, reaching out for him, not wanting to leave him.

but he turns his back, pulling a sword out. he needs to fight for his people. and as long as his daughter is safe, it doesn’t matter what happens to him.

the guard carried the girl through a passage in the walls, holding a torch out in front of him to light the way. the way is dark and damp.

it leads to the world outside, and from behind the walls of the castle you can see smoke in the air. fires brought down homes.

the girl is brought into one of the few spaceships in the yard, and the door is shut as invaders emerge from the castle. they saw her, and they run towards the ship to try to get to her. they’re too late as it flies into the sky, away from the planet.

that little girl was you. a part of your life that you had long forgotten, perhaps blocked out of your memory.

the image fades into a new one. the ship landing on a different planet- asgard. odin greets the guard, listening as he explains what had happened.

with pity, odin looks down at her. “we’ll keep you safe until the war passes, all right?” he tells her softly.

she nods, unable to say a word through her tears. the guard leaves to go back and join the fight, and he is the last person of her world that she ever sees. the war passed, but it left her home in ruins. she never sees it, but everything is crumbling to the ground, bodies scattering across the burning land.

you fast forward through the images of you growing up, of memories with loki and thor. of playing in the castle, causing chaos but keeping your best friend from doing too much harm or getting into too much trouble. as you get older, you’re seen with different gadgets, creating most of the technology that advanced asgard.

you get to where you had been before being taken to this place. instead of the tesseract being knocked out of tony’s hands and into loki’s, it is kept safe in the case.

you and thor actually take loki back to asgard, and into a prison.

with another push of the fast forwarding button, you keep going until you see a much more interesting scene.

you stand with loki on a balcony, overlooking all of asgard. how he wasn’t in his prison anymore, you’re not sure, but the two of you are standing unusually close. it makes your heart flutter in your chest, and your eyebrows furrow as you try to ignore it.

“darling, you know i adore you.” his voice is soft as it carries through the room.

the woman on screen chuckles. “you’re making me nervous. are you going to break up with me? are you going off into a battle?”

he shakes his head, “oh, no dear. i could never part with you.”

it’s clear to you now why the two of you stand so close. how could it not be? what you’re watching is sickeningly sweet.

“i’d hope not.” the smile on her face makes you jealous. how could you be jealous of yourself? watching what you wish to have- no. you don’t wish to have it. that would be absurd.

the look on his face, the emotion in his eyes. it’s nothing you’ve seen before. it’s pure… love.

“never in my lifetime.” from your view, you can see a ring materialize in his hand behind his back.

the other gently grabs one of yours. “and that’s precisely why i want you to be my wife.” he reveals the piece of jewelry to her.

your heart feels like it skips a few beats, and you’re sure that the woman on screen shares the feeling. if it’s possible, her smile grows wider.

“my love…” the hand he holds releases from his grasp to trail up his arm and land softly on his cheek, “you know i could never say no.”

he slips the ring onto her finger before the two share a kiss, one that you knew held as much love the two of you could share.

it fades. what you see next is not nearly as sweet.

you’re in space, and the large ship you occupy carries dozens of dead asgardians. there are fires burning around you and rubble from the parts of the ship that have been destroyed. there is a hole, showing the vast emptiness of space.

it shows the projected same woman to the side, dropped to her knees beside thor- who is wrapped in metal that confines his movement and speech. you can see the way she tries to remain strong, to put on a brave facade, but the fear is impossible to miss in her eyes.

loki stands in front of a giant, purple alien man. you can see the dagger that he held, hidden out of the sight of the man. “i, loki, prince of asgard… odinson…” his eyes meet his brother’s, “...rightful king of jotunheim… god of mischief… a…” he looks to her, and you can see him take a deep breath, “a loving husband…”

you can see her growing worry for what was to happen. it seemed that they both knew. it was like a final goodbye that didn't have what it needed. no 'i love you's.

“do hereby pledge to you… my undying fidelity.” his gaze falls to the ground for a moment, and you can feel that the woman on the screen wishes greatly for him to change his mind. to abandon this foolish plan.

but yet, he swiftly brings the dagger up, so close to breaking through the skin of the alien man before his arm is stopped midair. the blue glow of magic from the only stone he wielded surrounds his arm.

he holds his golden gauntlet in front of him, “undying?” his hand grabs at loki’s arm, and the glow fades. “you should choose your words more carefully.”

he bends the god's arm to the side, the dagger dropping to the ground. his hand slowly wraps around his neck.

the wife’s breath picks up as he is lifted into the air, beginning to struggle around the grip the bigger man has on him. thanos looks to you and thor as loki’s face begins to change color into a sickly blue.

“you… will never be… a god.” he uses his final breaths to tell the man, before the bones in his neck snap.

"no!" her agony echoes through the room as thanos drops the dead man in front of his brother and wife.

the woman on screen crawls to him and cradles his face in her hands as tears stream down her face, "my love…" she places a tender kiss on his lips before her forehead rests against his, her sobs the only thing you can hear. "why?" one of her hands gently grabs his hand, lacing her fingers through his. their rings glimmer in the light the fires cast.

her gaze lifts to the man who killed her husband. “you… you will pay for-”

a blade pierces through her, putting a halt to her grief and anger as her body slumps forward.

her body lays over the unmoving figure of her husband. the death of two lovers.

you don’t notice the tears running down your face as the image fades.

end of file

a tragic story. one you didn’t believe to be a truth- this isn’t the future you were intended to have. this was simply an illusion that this time variance authority created. you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel like you were breaking apart.

“you watched it?” the voice breaks through your feelings, and your head quickly turns to see mobius as the doors shut behind him.

your hands wipe at your face to get rid of the streams flowing down. you sniffle. “what… what was that?”

he sighs as he takes the other chair. “that was your past, present, and future.”

“no.” you shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping you, “no, that was not real.”

his head tilts, “then what was it?”

you lean forward towards him, “a cruel creation meant to hurt me. none of it is true.”

“why would we want to hurt you? what makes you think that can’t be real?”

“because there is no set timeline!” you snap, your hands slamming against the table as you stand, your chair falling over from the force. “and if there was, that would not be what happens.” you point to where the movie was projected, which was now a blank wall.

his pitiful smile makes you angry. it makes you want to punch him- it’s not something you’ve felt a lot for people who weren’t an enemy. “why would that not be what happens?”

you’re quiet for a moment, before you take a deep breath. “because it just wouldn’t!”

“it would, though.” he stands from his chair, “it’s the proper flow of time. it happens again and again, because it’s what’s meant to be.”

you glare at him, and if looks could kill, he’d have a hole burned straight through him. “where’s loki?”

“he’s-”

the doors to the theater open to reveal the guard who brought you to this terrible place. “he’s gone.”

mobius looks to you, sighing. “i guess we’ll have to hunt him down.”

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

loki: none yet

for all time, always: none yet

[drabbles-of-writing]

Reverse Au! Dump

Don’t mind my idea dumping here. Brain decided to have fun while I was at work and I have too many wips as it is, so… Thought I’d ask before I dumped, experience. Used morningmark’s comics as a base, so if you want reference. Now this isn’t all that well compiled, but here it goes.

~

Magic in the Other World is varied as it is crazy. So many styles over the generations and not a lot of organization. There are some that try to categorize it all, but that works as well as you’d expect. Some were lost, some erased, some weren’t passed down/recorded because “the power is all mine! Ahahaha!” It took a lot of time and collaboration, but eventually a sort of system was installed to help out. Still a lot of work to do, but its a step forward. Nowadays the term Wild Magic is generally reserved for those that aren’t all that well documented and understood.

Some Magics are very powerful and desirable, but also tend to be very high risk/high reward, kinda pass/fail, pretty literally Do or Die most times. So not a lot of people can use those or are even willing to. Story says this one guy named Odin hung himself on a massive tree by his own spear for nine days, no food water or rest in constant pain before he could unlock the secret of Runes. But it’s also said he gouged out his own eye to drink from the Well of Wisdom so… 

There are lots of different ways to channel magic too: wands, staves, jewelry, certain gems, familiars, potions, enchanted armaments, chants, scripts, etc. Each tool has its own advantages and disadvantages and play into a Witches’ style. Every Witch has at least two methods of spellcasting. Only children have one. Haven’t thought of how Luz gets her Palisman though. Maybe its one of those magic Artifacts like Dr. Strange’s cloak, Elder Wand, Thor’s hammer, or a Green Lantern’s Ring. Something that can’t be recreated because the secret is lost, materials no longer exist, too hard/dangerous to make, accident that can’t be recreated, etc. Happens more often than people like.

Camilla is sometimes called the Blue Witch. She’s a healer by heart and trade, but push her and she will become a one Witch Battleship. Bismark who? Aaaaand she just deleted a whole battalion. And the fortress behind them. Hide me. There are the very rare occasions, like count on one hand rare, when someone near and dear to her heart is in trouble that she takes up her other job. She’s especially terrifying when she decides to torture, those who know how to heal the body know best how to break it. Many shades of Blue, some are very close to Black. She doesn’t necessarily hate Humans exactly, but doesn’t have the highest of regard from past experiences.

Luz has training and is a proficient Witch for her age. Camilla and her father were adamant about having a general knowledge/skillset alongside her specialized skill. Jack of all trades and a master of none, still better than a master of one. She has gone through the system for her magic with varying success. Oracle magic? Zero talent. Bard classes? She can play an instrument, but can’t sing at the same time. When she does sing she tires too hard and messes up. It’s only when she doesn’t try, like absently singing along with a song or playing by her heart, that she’s good at it. Beasts? Can use them, but would rather play with them. Bleeding heart and all that. She does have a good handle on healing magic partly due to Camilla drilling necessary skills into her and partly osmosis. Her father arranged for some CQC lessons from an old friend of his which the girl loved. You get the idea. It wasn��t until she discovered Glyphs that she found her niche and her skills took off. Glyphs are one of those ‘eccentric’ or 'archaic’ styles since they haven’t been used in so long after being lost and are barely understood. She still has a long way to go, but she is on her way.

Luz never really had much in the way of friends, partly cuz of high profile parents which leads to certain pressures and a target on her head, partly because of her magic style and personality, and partly because of the trouble been going on. Luz grew up her whole life with this tension of a group of anarchists trying to burn society that’s just trying to do the right thing. The anarchists started small, but have been a growing problem the past few decades with talk how to 'reshape the world’ in not a good way. Anyone with critical thinking skills can tell this is a bad idea, but they are too brainwashed to notice. They harass anyone who doesn’t follow their rhetoric and attack anyone who even questions them. Luz’s parents put a real kink in a lot of their plans for years, which makes Luz guilty by association. 

Luz got caught in one of those sudden larger scuffles and was accidentally chucked/blown through a portal created by an attempted tactical retreat that went off course. Hence why she can’t go home because she hasn’t learned how to do portals yet. Those are high level anyway so how did these guys pull it off so easily? Luz has a hard time blending in obviously. Learning how to use a phone was a fun endeavor. Internet was a trip. Luz is amazed how these people can do all this cool stuff without magic. Keep a low profile sure, she can pass off as a weird out of town kid. Keep the beanie on, underperform in gym and stuff because some things don’t change, like genetics. Someone sharp eyed will see discrepancies. The Beanie has a small Glamor spell built in that covers her witchy traits but she forgot the ears which is why it sits like it does. Luz can erase memories in case she has an accident, but it’s less of a 'remove my face from this picture with a scalpel’, and more of a 'lemme just hack off the past hour or three from your brain with an axe.’ If she tries to take any more then she starts burning into some more dangerous territory and those Wiped are groggy and disoriented for a while after already. Then the magic attacks start happening and her heroic instinct/anti-bystander complex kicks in and there goes that. It runs in the family so Camilla isn’t surprised in the slightest when she finds out.

“Oh titan, why did you curse me with another me?” “I’m right here Mami!”

Eda has a shack very akin to Grunkle Stan. Lots of junk that Lilith can’t believe that people are dumb enough to buy. She’s also involved in some not so legal dealings on the side. Well, Eda isn’t actually hurting anybody and the tax dollars she should be paying would only go towards some politicians’ next yacht or another pointless overseas 'investment’ instead of where it’s supposed to go so. Eda does give some good intel on occasion and a place to vent so Lillith overlooks her. Lil’s more of the secret police for witches and a petty crook isn’t part of her job anyway. Eda understands Luz’s predicament and is willing to help. The cover story is that Camilla work in hospitals and has to work crazy hours while her dad passed away so is living with Eda for a while. King is that kind of critter that grew up weird and acts like ten different animals all the time.

Gus is the nerdy kid who infodumps on everybody, even if they’re not listening. Loves anything fantasy/sci-fi related and plays Minecraft too. A good kid at heart, but needs some social skills. Keep him away from anything more sugary than tea. Luz learned a lot listening to him. Not all of it is entirely useful, but still. Some of his ramblings give her some good ideas for magic and stuff, like putting Glyphs on cards.

The Blights are the cool rich kids obviously, and have some discipline and social issues. Big family name makes them intimidating for normies and a meal ticket for the unsavory. These kids need real friends. They decided to act out to get some attention from the parents who then decided to ignore them. “If you’re going to act like a child tantrum, get treated like one.” Ed is perfect for Drama classes, if he were allowed to partake. Can’t decide what Em is great at, hacking perhaps? Amity’s car is an inheritance from the only family to treat her as such Twins aside, even if she’s too young to remember it. She only remembers that she has feelings surrounding the car. All three of them were pretty impressed with Luz for standing up to them, calling them out on their shit, and not giving a crap about their family name. Being treated like a normal person is pretty weird. Can we get her to do that again?

Amity tried dating Boscha once, didn’t work out very well. Boscha is still hurting over Amity’s comment of “I’d rather go date the new weird kid (Luz) than go back to you.” It’s one of the reasons she goes after Luz. She has that kind of Bud personality from Spider Man, feels lesser and so acts out so much. 

“Wow, this new Witch is amazing. Not as cool as the original Witch.”

“What is it with the Witch with you?”

“Oh, she’s a hero. Looks out for the city and the little guy. She inspires me. Makes me want to be a bigger person. *sees Luz* What’s up Luz-er?”

~

And that’s what I got right now. I know there was more, but it’s lost to the void right now. Might come back later, maybe not. Lemme know what you think.

............

DAMN you weren’t lying when you said you had an info-dump this is *chefs kiss* you got me intrigued now

[miss-smutty]

Immortal - Chapter 4

Summary- A mysterious pursuer causes Aria and Thor's bond to become bound with blood. Who is he? And why does he keep following her?

Word count- 2.1 k

Pairing- Thor x OC

Warnings- violence

18+only!!

Posted: 6th July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires

Immortal Masterlist <<<<

"I can help you." Thor pushes back from the gate and slides himself down next to her. "We're similar. And you can not deny the connection we have." He nudged her with his elbow, willing her to look at him just as the sound of footfall echoed down the alley towards them. They both turned their heads at the same time, in the direction of the noise. The footsteps drawing closer.

The footsteps fell silent, stopping in their tracks a couple of meters away from them. Arias ears pricked, trying to pick up any signs of movement. She could hear the sounds of her and Thor's heart beating ridiculously fast, too fast for a human and yet hers still beat the same rhythm as his. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, desperately trying to cut out the thrumming of their own heartbeats and concentrate on what else she could hear. Then she heard it, the heartbeat of someone else, whoever it was, they were definitely human - it was beating much slower and quieter. If only she could get a look at whoever it was and see them deeper, internally scanning them without them even knowing.

Thor looked to Aria knowingly, unspoken words muttered through their eye contact. They had to move to cover, they needed to get to safety but the easiest route, leading them straight into the sights of their enemy, wouldn't be an option.

Thor crouched back on to his heels, ready to move, the stance of a predator ready to pounce until Aria held her arm out against him, holding him back and gesturing with her hand to her ear for him to watch and listen. She closed her eyes again, blocking out as much of the background noise as she could until she heard him again, his feet gently shuffling on the ground as he switched position. Any normal person wouldn't be able to hear the things she could, not even Thor but Aria was far from normal. She pointed to the position of the intruder, letting Thor know where the danger was hiding.

"I could get rid of him with a click of my fingers." He said through gritted teeth, adrenaline coursing through his veins making his skin itch with a need to fight. She could see it like thick tar painting his skin as it travelled down his body, she watched as Thor's face contorted with a desperate need to do something and she realised they weren't completely alike. She was a thinker and he was a doer, unsure of which would actually be better in this current situation she stuck to doing things the way she always had.

"And draw even more attention to us? No, we escape. With our speed, there's no way they will be able to keep up." The thought of seeing Thor in action made her mind drift distractedly, until she got her head back into the game, shaking away her thoughts with a flick of her hair.

"You just admitted you have the same abilities as me." Thor smirked, his calmness was infectious.

She pondered the thought for a moment, realising she did admit that they were similar. She'd always known she was different but admitting it was a big deal and finding someone with almost identical abilities was an even bigger deal for her.

Her eyes were drawn back down the alley, a shiver travelling down her spine when she heard the sound of a gun being loaded, the eyes of a doe locked on to the target of their Hunter. She froze on the spot, her heart rate slowing to almost a stop as she concentrated on staying deadly still, the skills of a hunted animal. A lifetime of being someone's prey she was accustomed with the fight or flight reflex. She usually chose to flee but looking at Thor and seeing the muscles in his neck flexing, his perfect jawline taunt, she knew he would choose to fight.

Aria's wide eyes met with the hunter as he moved into sight, a face she recognised all too well. A face she had seen before many a time, the dark brown soulless eyes of her tormentor stared back at her. The smooth baldness of his head set upon his wide, burly shoulders. The 6'5" stature of pure muscle and brawn crouched behind a dumpster no more than four meters away.

She sighed heavily as she pushed her back against the cold brick wall, a trashcan the only bit of cover they had from the relentless beast who pursued them. 

"It's him." Her voice broke, panting loudly as she began to hyperventilate. Memories flashing through her mind after only the slightest moment of eye contact. Worry appeared on Thor's face as he gazed upon Aria's obvious fear, watching her closely as she regained her composure.

"Who is it?" Thor asked, Aria too deep in shock to reply.

She was pretty sure their stalker was an agent but had no idea why he continued to track her down. Her fingers grazed absentmindedly along the scar just above her collarbone as she remembered her last encounter with the monster in the alley. The way she'd barely escaped from his clutch as he'd held a knife to her throat. When she'd used the last of her strength to push him back against the wall, the knife had slipped and gouged a gash deep into her collarbone. The pain summoning more strength within her and she'd bit into his forearm like an hungry animal, tearing a chunk of his flesh as he let go of his hold upon her. Then she'd run as fast as she could, not stopping to turn around until she was far enough away. She hadn't seen him again since then. Until now.

"We need to go. Now." Thor didn't need to ask any more questions, he saw the look in Aria's eye's and moved low against the gate. Resting on one knee and offering an upturned palm for Aria to step on to. She cocked her head to the side, frowning at Thor before scaling the tall gate effortlessly, without his help. Thor took a moment to admire her climbing down the other side of the fence, a look of determination set upon her soft face. The moment cut short when he heard the agent running behind him, closing on them with a pistol in his outstretched arm.

Thor scaled the gate after Aria, joining her on the other side and wasting no time putting as much distance between the agent and themselves as they could. He held tightly to her hand as they ran through the rest of the alley, praying that it wasn't a dead end.

Aria felt the pain before she heard the sound of the pistol reverberating off the walls of the narrow alley. A sharp ache she could feel deep in the bone of her left shoulder, a pain so deep and acute that it took her breath away instantly. She needed to stop to catch her breath but she couldn't, not yet. She pushed through it, trying as hard as she could to get her legs to work the way she wanted them to but all she could think about was the burning pain exploding through her chest.

Thor stopped in his tracks as he felt Aria stumble forwards, her face ash white as she looked up at him with shock in her eyes before falling to the ground, clutching at her shoulder. He could see the hole in her clothes that the bullet had left and the blood that was seeping through and the sight made his anger flare. The ground rumbled around them, dark clouds gathering above them as a smooth breeze brushed through the alley.

He couldn't stop himself, looking at her crumpled body beneath him once again. The very skies trembling in his presence as a storm gathered above them, he barely even looked at the mysterious man behind them as his eyes glowed brightly, his electrical current tingling his fingertips, electrifying his body. He felt it buzz through him, not thinking twice when he reached out and commanded a bolt of lightning to strike the man right where he stood. Throwing him to the ground with force, his body flying backwards and landing against the brick wall leaving him unmoving.

"Aria? Look at me." He gathered her up into his arms carefully, her eyes fluttering open, a  smile playing at the corner of her lips as she stared into the eyes of her saviour. She gave in to him, allowed herself to trust him now he had proved himself loyal. "It's ok I've got you, tell me where to go."

Aria didn't have the strength to stop herself falling a little deeper for the man who's arms she was encased in when she muttered, "Take me home, Thor." 

**********

Aria's eye's snapped open as she took in her surroundings, a layer of sweat on her forehead as she sat bolt upright in the bed she was laid on, clutching the bandage on her left shoulder. The ache of the bullet wound still there but much less than before.

"You're awake, I've been so worried." Thor's voice came from the chair he had placed by the side of her bed. 

"I think I passed out from exhaustion more than anything else, thank you for taking me home." She pulled the bedsheet up to her chin, Thor's presence made her feel slightly nervous in the intimate setting of her own home. 

"You just keep on surviving don't you? Twice in one day you could've died yet here you are." Thor sat casually in the deep backed arm chair Aria used to read in, his legs planted apart as he leant back against the chair. Aria couldn't help but take a moment to admire the physique of the God, her eyes trialing up his body until they met with his own unblinking pair of deep blue eyes.

She wasn't only surprising him, she was surprising herself with the way she was opening up to him, allowing him to see the side of her she'd hidden for so long. More than that she was enjoying it, enjoying finally being able to be herself with someone.

Thor moved closer to her, sitting on the side of the bed, enjoying the feel of the unknown force that pulls them together. He reached out to run his fingers down her silky hair, reminding Aria of a part of herself she was still hiding from Thor. A part she still couldn't bring herself to reveal to him, her true identity being her last comfort cushion of safety. She knew deep down that she wouldn't be able to keep it hidden from Thor for much longer, not with the way she was starting to feel about him. The connection had been instant but the deep bond she felt had been created that day, when he'd scooped her up in his arms and taken her away from danger without a second thought.

Aria felt her cheeks flushing as she caught Thor's gaze with her own, the unperishing look of hunger lingered in his eyes.

"Why are you blushing? You weren't embarrassed when I first met you." Thor raised his eyebrow at her with a sly smile making Aria's insides twist and contort.

"That was because I thought I'd never see you again." Her tension eased as she started to feel relaxed within Thor's presence, a heavy feeling of lust hung in the air as their bodies gradually gravitated towards each other.

"While we are on the subject, when do we get to do that again?" His finger followed the curve of her Cupid's bow taking away all her coherent thoughts. Thor found her his weakness, he couldn't resist touching her. Desperate to get his hands on her properly.

"Erm, maybe when people stop trying to kill me." She giggled nervously while Thor licked his lips, looking down before his eyes met with her's again. That deep look of hunger burning more adamantly in his eyes than ever before. Something else flickered within them, something she recognised all too well, a look that was also mirrored in her own eyes the last time she was in the presence of the agent. Anger, deep unforgiving anger. 

"I will not allow anyone to hurt you again, not while you're with me." He closed the distance between them, taking her head within his hands. "And Aria, I am not letting you go now I have found you." 

"I don't think I want you to." Her lips parted, unable to contain the need any longer. She knew she didn't want him to let her go, she'd waited a lifetime to feel this with someone and now she had it she wasn't about to give it up. She allowed herself to open up to him although the thought of being weak completely terrified her.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: The Manor - 9

So I don't remember exactly where I left off, and I read it but I just kinda wanted to continue from here. Sorry for any continuity errors.

Please comment!

-

You woke and found yourself once more in the servant’s room. Someone had carried you to your bed while you slept.

You thought of Loki, holding you gently in his arms, close to his body as he protected you from whatever horrors lurked in the darkness. A smile crossed your face unbidden.

After breakfast had been served and eaten, you stood at the front door with your bag of meagre belongings.

Frigga smiled down at you. “It’s been wonderful having you here. Go enjoy your family for a few days. We look forward to your return.”

Odin walked past and scoffed, harumphing and on into the other room.

Loki appeared as if from nowhere. “Mother, you’re not going to have her walk, are you?”

Frigga glanced at him. “I suppose not. You may take the carriage if you wish to ease her journey there. But do not tarry.”

Loki nodded and bowed his head. “Of course, mother.”

Motioning for you to follow him, Loki opened the door and led you towards the stables. When the two of you were out of sight of the house, he took your bag easily and carried it for you.

���You really don’t have to do that.” You mumbled.

He shrugged. “I want to.”

The two of you finally made it to the stables and Loki set about readying the horses.

“You don’t have a stablemaster?” You asked incredulously.

Loki shook his head, brushing the coats of the great black steeds as he led them to attach to the coach. “No one stays.”

You glanced towards the ceiling, thinking of the massive gouges in your servant room door. If you had a choice, you might have left as well. But a part of your heart twinged at the thought of leaving Loki to face Odin alone.

“Will you be safe?” You asked softly. How you longed to reach for his arm, to touch it gently and share that affirming touch.

Loki looked over his shoulder at you. He cast you an easy smile and nodded. “I’ve gone this long, have I not?”

“But we have made it far angrier you said.”

Clasping the last fastenings in place, Loki walked back over to you and set the luggage inside the carriage. “Care to ride up front with me? It’s rather unladylike I imagine, but the ride can be long and lonesome.”

You smiled at him. “I would love to.”

Loki climbed up and reached down, offering you his hand to help you up.

You took it gratefully, almost shocked as he easily pulled you next to him. He had a hidden strength to him that was not always so readily apparent like Thor’s.

Once you were settled, Loki flicked the reins, and the horses took off. You clung to his arm, unable to stop the movement as you feared falling off. Loki glanced towards you, smiling at you as you held yourself close.

You watched in silent awe as the scenery sped by. It was autumn now and the trees were alight with fiery colors. The crispness of the air filled your nose as tears pricked at your eyes from the wind.

Your gaze fell towards the lower shadows of the path, the dark undergrowth of the forest and for a second you saw it again. That great black beast, red eyes glowing, stared out at you.

And then you were past it, flying along the path.

The image of the beast had sent a chill up your spine and you squeezed Loki’s arm tighter, holding him as you tried to ignore the beast’s appearance burned into your eyesight.

“Did you see it?” You asked eventually, struggling to keep the whimper from your voice.

“See what?” Loki asked, looking towards you and then casting his gaze along the forest path.

“Back there. That awful… creature. I don’t know what it was.”

“We’re past it now.”

You sighed and nodded. Soon you would be out of these woods and into the safety of the urban sprawl of your small town. Neither of you commented on the beast again.

At long last, the carriage arrived at the edge of town, near the road where your parents’ house stood.

Loki pulled the reins, to a halt and looked at you somberly. “Be safe, won’t you?”

You nodded. “When am I not?”

He rolled his eyes. Shaking his head he replied, “I’ve come to know you well enough. Listen, don’t go snooping. Just enjoy the time with your parents and then we’ll see what comes next.”

You pursed your lips. “We’ll see.”

Loki shook his head again. “Perhaps that is the best I will get from you.”

You turned to jump down and to your surprise, Loki followed. He walked to the carriage and pulled out your luggage, setting it on the ground beside you.

“Please.” He urged, “do be safe. Father has eyes everywhere and if you break your word with him…”

You laughed, though an uneasiness crawled up your spine. “I will be safe, Loki.”

“That’s all I can hope for I imagine.”

“You be safe too, whatever that thing is, if it’s not after me it might come after you.”

Loki smiled sadly. “I have grown used to such things.”

You turned to walk away, hefting your bag up with both hands and holding it before you. “Well, I guess, I will see you in a week.” You called over your shoulder.

“Wait.”

Loki’s word caught you off guard and you spun around to face him. “Yes?”

Then he was leaning forward, his lips brushing against yours for the briefest of seconds, before pulling back. How feather soft they felt on your own lips, barely touching yours, just enough for your breath to mingle and to feel him with you.

Then he pulled back, blinking slowly at you. Abruptly he spun around, climbed onto the carriage, cracked the whip, and vanished.

You stood in the street, stunned. Leaving one hand to hold the bag, you raised your other to your mouth, still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours. Slowly you felt heat spread across your face and as well as a small smile.

With a new bounce in your step, you made your way to your home and your waiting parents.

[stylesluxx]

cold? chilling? freezing? (I) – s.rogers

[warnings: brief talk of violence]

summary: in which y/n is an assassin turned lover | part two

word count: 1,193

masterlist

"Agent Y/L/N, welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

The man that spoke to you wore a black eyepatch and was dressed in all black. He was a spy that didn't bother hiding he was a spy.

"Thank you for having me, Director," You nodded and shook the hand he held out.

You looked around the Helicarrier as he gave you a tour. You were impressed. You've never been a part of an organization that was so advanced.

"The other Avengers are in the lab. They might already be bumping heads, but try to ignore it. They should be happy they have another teammate," He attempted to warn you.

You just nodded and kept a straight face as you both walked into an area where the other recruits were mid-conversation.

"Meet Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She's a trained assassin and will prove to be a great asset to the team," Fury introduced you to the four people standing in front of you.

Robert Bruce Banner, also known as Bruce Banner or Hulk. He's a good-mannered (despite the big green guy) rational, analytical, shy genius. A guy you would've fallen in love with had you not been taught to be a cold and standoffish assassin.

Thor Odinson, initially a stubborn, irrational, and arrogant brute that was turned mature and level-headed.

Natasha Romanoff, also known as Natalia Alianovna Romanoff or Black Widow. She's charismatic and can easily adapt to any role she has to play. Typical assassin.

Finally, Steven Grant Rogers, described in the files as compassionate, patriotic, courageous, and sticks with his morals until the very end. It was respectable, not necessarily how you were "raised" though.

"Nice to meet you all. I've read the mission files and have already been caught up by Fury, so no need for introductions. What's Loki's play?" You spoke sharply and looked at Loki's brother, Thor, for an answer.

Fury gave the other four an amused look before walking off, letting the group work on their own.

Thor then started explaining what Loki wanted and who he was working with.

"He's got two people brainwashed, correct? And one of them is Agent Barton?" You clarified.

"Loki has them under some kind of spell," Natasha nodded.

"I want to know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here," Steve spoke up.

"He didn't let you take him easy because there's someone on this ship that he's going to use as a pawn. Not too hard to figure out," You said and sat in the chair furthest from the table but closest to Agent Maria Hill.

You ignored them as they went back to talking about Loki. Of course, they were going to brush that off, they didn't want to admit that someone here was easy to use as a piece in Loki's game.

Tony Stark walked in the room, captivating it with his genius, as he does.

Anthony Edward Stark, Iron Man, a self-proclaimed egotistical playboy, philanthropist, billionaire, and genius. You would agree but you knew that was a façade. You had one too. Everyone with the potential to be an emotional wreck but has something to prove has a façade.

"Am I the only one who did the reading? And speaking of which, there wasn't much of you in them. Who are you?" He asked you, catching your attention.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Former assassin," You responded shortly.

"Yeah, I got that but anything else?" He asked and continued to push. "You guys usually have names. For example, Natasha here is Black Widow. Clint is Hawkeye. What do they call you?"

"Seven."

"No special name? Just a number and they couldn't even call you 'One?' How helpful could you possibly be?" He questioned.

You quickly reached over and grabbed Hill's gun from her holster and shot six bullets, purposely missing each of their heads by a centimeter. You put it back and sat back in your seat, crossing your legs.

"And I know five different ways to gouge your eye out with a shoelace. Any more questions, comments, and/or concerns?"

They all looked at you in shock except Tony. He knew he succeeded at pushing your buttons just a little.

"Then shall we continue?" You asked when no one spoke up.

Once Tony and Bruce decided to go to the lab, you followed behind but went to where you'd be staying at instead.

It was a small and temporary room, nothing special or specialized for you. But that was okay, you didn't like staying anywhere for too long. Being comfortable allows vulnerability and the potential to be shocked or disappointed. And those two feelings might provoke you to act out irrational and you desired to be level-headed at all times.

You sat alone in the room for a while doing nothing (because you obviously weren't unpacking) until you heard a knock. You sat up from the twin-sized bed and went to unlock and open the door.

—

Third Person POV

Steve watched as Y/N quickly exited the meeting behind Banner and Stark. His other teammates were in the files so he felt like he had a pretty good understanding of them but Y/N had almost nothing in hers.

All he knew was her name, age (27), the seven different languages she could speak (English, Latin, Spanish, French, Arabic, Portuguese, and Afrikaans) and where she was from (but he only knew that because of the unmistakable French accent).

When Steve realized he couldn't pry out as much information as he would've liked about the mysterious woman, he left Fury behind and walked to the lab.

When he saw Tony sticking Bruce, he of course had to comment about protecting the lives of those on the ship. When he realized it'd be harder than he thought getting through to Tony, he changed the subject.

"Mister Stark, is there any way you know any more information about Agent Y/L/N that you might know?" Steve asked, hoping maybe Tony did some extra research on the girl.

"Why? Got a crush?" Tony teased, causing Steve to cross his arms and roll his eyes. "Well, I did try but she's pretty good at cleaning up after herself and staying low key. Which I kind of figured, she's very... what's the word?" He hummed and snapped his fingers.

"Cold? Chilling? Freezing? Arctic, if you will," Bruce huffed out, raising an eyebrow.

"I think she just needs one on one time," Steve suggested even though he agreed with the men about her standoffish demeanor.

"Well you do it then, Doctor Rogers," Tony playfully taunted and set his hands on the table next to Loki's scepter.

"We're scared of her... like... petrified," Bruce admitted before going back to his computer.

"I wouldn't say I'm scared of her, she just seems a little unpredictable," Tony corrected him.

"Seems like you two might get along then," Steve directed toward Tony before walking out the lab.

Steve knew what it felt like to be a fish out of water, he still was on the shore flopping around and choking on air if you thought about it.

Steve was a big empathizer and that's how he found himself knocking on your bedroom door.

[AN: so this is my first series and there’s eight parts total. I’m kinda nervous ngl but excited]

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Send me a character: Loki ;P

LOL This will be fun because I bet anyone would expect insta-love for the guy.  

First impression

My very first impression of Marvel Loki was not a great one.  My ex, upon finding out that I was a big time Norse heathen with heavy love and prayerfulness to Loki, decided to show me Loki in the older Marvel comics.  “You’ll love this!” he said and tugged out older comics from the 80s when, I’m sorry, the artwork was uh...not to my tastes.  So my first impression was of Loki wearing those godsawful green and yellow spandex clothes with the big stupid looking horns, and I just exclaimed, “What the hell did they do to my beautiful god????  He looks so fucking stupid!”  (Don’t be pissy, I thought that Wolverine looked stupid in those same era comics until Hugh Jackman made me like the character) 

Impression now

After Tom Hiddleston brought Loki to the big screen with a much better wardrobe and look, I feel in love with Marvel Loki hard.  The accent, the Shakespearean talent and demeanor, the hotness, oh yeah.  Now Loki is someone I can look at without thinking he looks stupid.  Totally hot.  And that goes for Loki in the comics, too.  When the artists realized that Tom was a cash cow for pulling in fangirls, they really improved the character’s looks, and I can definitely read the comics with him without wanting to gouge out my eyes.  Of course, that’s all physical looks.  I’d say that the MCU forced Marvel’s hands at the comics to make Loki a more interesting and multidimensional character rather than just a crazy, mustache-twirling villain.  I’m sure some of the stories before the MCU got a hold of Loki were doing the same, but those are the comics I need to backtrack to and play catch-up some.  

Favorite moment

Oh I have several.  

Idea for a story

Well, there’s Hemispheres that I’m working on already.  There’s the idea for the holiday prompts you gave me, so I really don’t want to tell you the ideas for that yet because it’s a surprise.  I do have the Hellfire Club fic idea, which I’ve told you about some of it.  The basic idea is that Emma and Loki decide they can do much better running the Hellfire Club without the likes of Sebastian Shaw and Madelyn Pryor and all those others.  So she keeps her role as White Queen, and Loki takes on the mantle of Black King.  I have a whole list of characters to involve in this ridiculously over-cast series of fics that will involve quite a bit of magic, telepathy, and Emma and Loki being an amazing power couple along with Tony Stark (the White King) and others.  

Unpopular opinion

Well, it’s at least unpopular with some who aren’t fond of Loki, and it’s that he should never have been classified as a villain.  He went through a lot of familial abuse -- humiliation at Thor’s hands, lack of affection and respect from Odin, not sticking up for him enough from Frigga, not to mention the lies about his birth and finding out that his birth parents abandoned him to die.  And that’s just the start because of course, Thor’s friends treated him like shit and clearly Thor let it happen and encouraged them.  After over 1000 years of this shit, I can’t say that I blame him in the slightest for finally striking back, ya know?

Favorite relationship

Canon favorite: Loki’s relationship with Frigga.

Fandom favorite: Loki/Tony Stark with Loki/Emma as a close second, and Loki/Steve, Loki/Bucky as ones I’m pretty interested in.  Also Loki’s relationship to his brother, but just as a brother thing.  I’ve seen pretty art and read some pretty fics, but I personally prefer to keep their relationship brotherly.  

Favorite headcanon

I have a few.  Loki is touch-starved and extremely affectionate, especially once he trusts someone enough to be vulnerable around them.  Loki is a fantastic father (or mother in the case of Sleipnir) and that he is always, always good with children.  He would be the best guest at any little girl’s tea party that he was invited to.  Loki can obviously talk to animals (with All-Speak, he can talk to anyone and anything, but esp animals which also comes from his ability to shapeshift into animals), so he befriends Clint’s dog Lucky the Pizza Dog and gets to hear all the gossip and complaints from him, often making him laugh while everyone else is going crazy wanting to know what Lucky is saying.  This would probably also go for Bucky’s cat Alpine.  

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Ch2: Wishful Thinking

Masterlist

The Auction House Masterlist

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson X OFC

Warnings: Angst, blood

Summary: Loki gets more than he bargained for while we learn why she refuses to remember the god as her soulmate. it begins to get noticed there is something between Loki and the newest acquired soldier that Loki is working hard to hide and one team member puts it all together in a matter of minutes. Will this be used against the dark god?

A/N: Sorry for the slow update, October wiped me out! XD

Words: +4,900

_______

This was playing out the same as the dream from earlier that morning. Loki knew this would happen, he seen it, it was real, all he had to do was simply take the shard of glass she held out to him. Treasure, would yield to him and this entire ordeal would be over, granting the two of them the rest of the evening to become acquainted.

Reaching out to wrap lithe fingers around the shard of glass, Loki noted the same innocence from the vision he had earlier. It appeared this was not the way she wanted him to see her. Finally Treasure met his gaze, a sparkle in violet eyes told Loki this wasn’t the soulmate from his dream, this was a creature desperate to escape and he had made a mistake.

Surprised by the woman's sudden emotional shift, the thick framed soldier was on the god in no time, slamming Loki to his back into a pile of medical instruments gouging his spine. Letting out a pained grunt, in irritation the god glared up at Treasure.

This wasn’t the plan, the shuffle outside of the room told Loki, this wild-eyed creature needed to be subdued before the others reached them, regardless if he was trying to keep up the appearance he cared little for her. Loki wasn’t concerned with himself being hurt, far from it as the shard of glass pressed to his throat, nicking the flesh as the rush of the door gliding open reached their ears.

Violet orbs flared wide; Treasure didn’t dare look away from the man under her as two others rushed in. “Forgive me, Treasure,” the man she pinned whispered.

Forgive him? For what? He was the one pinned. The others hurried closer as Treasure flicked her wrist to slice across the man’s throat, but a hard thrust to her chest took all breath, sending a shock through her system and hurling her backwards.

Scrambling to bare feet, the woman hadn’t counted on the other being this strong. The shard of glass gone, a sting left in its wake as it had been plucked effortlessly from her hand and clattered somewhere across the room. Glaring down the men as they inched close, the dark haired one closer than the two blondes.  

A familiar tickle at the back of her mind made Treasure falter as Loki made the first move. Turning her head at the flare of pain but managed to focus back on the dark god. There was no way she was going without a fight. Moving quick to take out the one in green and black leathers, brain beginning to throb worse as it tried to recall a memory suppressed.

Gently Loki overpowered Treasure, his soulmate, wrapping strong arms around thick form, pulling shivering back flush to his chest, pinning wildly flailing arms at her side. Violently she thrashed in his hold, and still she had yet to speak a word.

How could she not know who he was? She had to have dreamed of him, knew what they meant to one another. This had to be tearing her apart as well. The fight making Loki’s chest ache with the realization this wasn’t the meeting hoped for between the two of them.

If Treasure was like the others from the auction, that meant she had no memories, no clue to who she was let alone who Loki was. Or that was until they began to work with her to regain memories, if she wanted it.   

Going limp in the dark headed man’s hold, she had tried, but he was entirely too strong. “As trifling as these do-gooders are, they mean well,” the man’s gritty voice echoed in her ear as he began to direct her back to the chair, thick frame tensing at the sight of it.  

Unexpectedly the dark god wrapped one arm tighter around her torso to free the other. The feel of lithe fingers lacing into tangled hair was comforting. Instinctively eyes fluttered closed, body going limp as if it trusted the man. A slight buzz filled her ears, vibrated through exhausted mind until lithe fingers retreated, and violet orbs fluttered open, body stiffening once more. 

“What’s wrong,” Steve spoke, stepping closer along with Thor. The blond soldier could tell something was off, but wasn’t sure what it was, just that this wasn’t the Loki he had been dealing with over the past months.  

“Might I suggest you consider another way,” Loki spoke, hinting to the chair, the woman glaring at the raven-haired god over her shoulder. Damn, if looks could kill Loki swore he would have died on the spot, studying her tired features over, noting a flash of pain in her eyes before she looked away. 

“Yeah,” Steve huffed, watching Loki turn, the woman cradled intimately close. What the hell was with Loki today?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Steve began, speaking to the room, Treasure eyeing the three close.

Who the hell was he talking to? The other two men in the room didn’t move a muscle but looked as if they expected someone to answer. It was just them in the room, wasn’t it? Tugging to test the grip of the dark-haired man only for his free arm to effortlessly snake around her once more. Appeared she was a mild inconvenience.

“Yes Captain Rogers,” the room itself lilted in a feminine voice, Treasure furrowing brows while carefully shifting in the others hold.

This one had an iron grip, a delicate shift had bare toes off the floor. Muscles twitched in efforts of inconveniencing the man holding her only for him to act as though she hadn’t moved. A warm huff of air across her ear was the only sign this was bothering him.  

“Have Shuri send in one of the beds,” the captain spoke up, watching the woman struggle with Loki who appeared to have Treasure under control. Steve seen the fight in her eyes, the desire to get free and the mistrust of them all. The Captain even caught the forlorn look in green orbs for a split second, making the blond soldier realize this ran deeper than a show of power for Loki.

One more violent jerk had Loki letting out a low huff, Thor watched the two of them battling over an unseen bet. There was something to this, stepping up to the woman the golden god easily deflected the bare foot she kicked out to keep him from getting too close, ignoring the glaring look she shot him.

“Easy, none of us want to hurt you,” Thor spoke up, noting Loki held the woman in a position that prevented Treasure from being hurt by her own or the younger gods hand. Dare the older think Loki was being gentle with the mortal?

Treasure wanted to spit, to curse at them, but programming forbid it. Unsaid words made tired jaw clamp shut painfully hard; teeth gritting as they studied her close. The sound of the door opening made them look towards the entrance to note Shuri stepping in with a table hovering off the floor.

Once it was stopped in a fairly clean space of floor, Loki hauled Treasure to it without being told. The god felt her tense but still allowed him to sit her on the soft surface. Hesitantly Loki released his grip, taking slow steps back while violet orbs glared daggers. It made Loki’s heart ache worsen, the fact his very own soulmate, the one he had waited the better part of a thousand years for did not recognize him, having not a clue what they were meant to be.

In moments the techs came back to right the room, Loki taking a step to the far wall next to the door to watch over them. Placing hands behind his back, the dark god focused on what the teen was explaining about the neuro leads. Loki studied how his soulmate placed steady hands in her lap, looking them over as it appeared she tuned out, but knew she heard every word.

The glint of polished, yet worn leather caught the god’s eye as a tech passed. “May I see that,” Loki began, making the tech stop, hinting to the book.

“Yeah, just don’t read it out loud,” they stated, handing it over as Loki noted Steve step next to Shuri.

Flipping open the book, Loki looked over the worn pages, committing it to memory but pausing a few pages in on a diagram that appeared to be some type of control. Going over the illustration depicting in detail the use and location of the device, Loki noted it was anchored along the base of Treasure’s skull. Looking away from the book to the violet eyed woman the moment realization dawned on Loki what exactly the thing done.   

Taking a step next to Shuri with Thor close, Loki noted the child like innocence his mate watched the young woman with. It appeared the gentle nature of the Wakandan was lost on Treasure, watching muscles visibly tense in preparation for pain. Studying his mate close, Loki never realized he had drawn Thor’s attention.

“I believe you should see this,” came the dark gods irritated voice, making Shuri pause at the suddenness of it.

The young woman appeared to take the gods attitude in stride as techs carefully placed neuro leads back into the others bleached hair. Taking the book, they seen Treasure shift uncomfortably, violet eyes nervously scanning the diagram.

Knowing the device all too well, it was a major breakthrough, one stopping all dreaming and memories from resurfacing.

Shuri studied it quickly before handing it back, stepping around the gurney to stand behind the other, barking an order in Xhosa to the techs. A hologram popped up in the young woman’s hand mirroring the gadget in the journal perfectly, but it showed it as it sat against the base of the woman's skull, tendrils leading from it and through all 6 lobes.  

“They didn’t want you dreaming or remembering did they,” the teen asked, tracing the leads with her eyes. Slowly the hologram filled out with bright colors that sparked and moved, it was the current read out from the leads the techs had placed.

Fidgeting with her fingers, the woman looked hatefully over her shoulder at the hologram. It was still not an order, so she took to staring off in the midground once more.

Shuri let out a huff, knowing what Treasure needed to hear before answering. “They wanted you to forget, to stop dreaming, didn’t they? Answer me, that is an order,” the teen commanded, watching the woman's gaze focus on her as if she had slapped the other, the diagram of Treasure’s brain flared to life.

“What do you think you are doing,” Loki bit out harshly catching them all off guard, they had no right to order his soulmate like a dog. Though, the moment he snipped at the teen Loki realized his mistake, and glad they ignored him for once.

“Yes,” Treasure spoke up, breaking the tension with an oddly clear tone. Violet gaze flickered over Loki, a flare to the frontal lobe on the hologram made tired eyes squint before taking to staring off midground once more. She could sense them watching her and the readout, no doubt curious to the flares of activity.

“It appears a memory is trying to surface every time she looks at us. I have seen the exact same with Bucky except he was able to remember,” Shuri spoke up, free hand reaching up to turn the hologram hovering in her hand.

No, it's me, Loki thought, making a small movement, his boot crunching on shattered vials. Once more the frontal lobe flared, when Treasure’s gaze flicked to his boots which appeared to create another flare. That confirmed it, whether she knew or not the rest of her did, it was relief but heartache all the same, a thing Loki was all too familiar with.

Thor watched his brother close, every move the dark god made had the read-out flaring to life. Not betraying his discovery, the older god studied Treasure, he was no stranger to the look his brother sat the woman with. There was only one other deserving of that look and she was Loki’s late wife Sigyn.

Now Thor knew why Loki had been sleeping. There was no doubt the younger god had been dreaming of the woman sitting lifeless on the gurney. All, -meaning mortals, Aesir, frost giants-, had dreams, visions of their soulmates and Thor knew Sigyn hadn't been Loki’s. Though the dark god had loved the fateful Aesir until her dying breath, the older god knew the younger dreamed of another.

Their mother always told them it was because Treasure hadn’t been born then, most gods, never found their soulmate until they were a thousand years old. Knowing Loki didn’t want attention drawn to the fact he watched over the woman protectively, Thor thought it best they leave.

“Brother,” Thor spoke getting Loki’s attention, the younger god turning from Treasure to look at him as if deep in thought. “How about we go get something to eat?”

“Go on,” Loki hinted to the door before turning back to watch the others closely.   

As Thor hesitated, Loki eyed Shuri close as she began to gently move the disheveled mess of bleached hair to press nimble fingers along Treasure’s hairline. Noting the diagram change to show Shuri’s fingers pressing into the base of her skull. It caused no flares unlike when the woman looked at Loki, the young woman speaking in Xhosa but the two gods, along with Treasure understood.

“You understand me don’t you,” Shuri hummed, pressing along the device before taking a step back, Treasure nodding she did understand, making the teen smirk.

“I believe I have all I need at the moment,” Shuri began as she stepped around the gurney, eyeing Loki who made an odd move but appeared to stop himself.

Damn. He needed to watch how he moved around the others, having almost reached out to help Treasure from the gurney. If they knew, they would exploit their weaknesses, especially when they removed the device. It should be straight forward honestly, with Asgardian technology that was.

Shuri’s people were advanced but still lacked sophistication in several methods of healing. Maybe he could think of a way to take his mate to New Asgard. They had a soul forge, even after the destruction they were able to build another.

“Why don’t you take her to her room,” Shuri spoke up, eyeing Loki as Thor and Steve done the same. They noted the god appeared deep in thought, hands placed behind his back once more.

“Loki,” Thor spoke up, breaking the dark gods gaze on Treasure.

“What,” Loki, snapped looking more than irate with the golden god as he turned to him.

“Why don’t we accompany Steve to her room, in case he needs help,” Thor began, noting the shift in Loki, knowing the younger god wouldn’t want them to see her as a weakness to exploit.

“You go on. I'm going to take my last meal in peace,” Loki snipped, a swoosh of leather announcing his leave, and leaving his soulmate looking after him as doors slid shut.

Having directed her into a small room, Treasure was surprised it was an authentic room and not a cell. Looking around the sparse area, that consisted of a bed, bathroom with a shower and toilet to note there wasn’t much to use in the way of weaponry and found her sitting on the corner of the small bed.

Sitting in silence was a relief compared to having to wait in a lab with constant banter and prodding of scientist. Staring out the window, it was a pity her mind couldn’t drift back to another time, the past was the moment she came too on the jet and brought here.

Here. They told her this was New York and called this place the Avengers compound.

Great. Another compound to sit around and await in.

But who was the man who overpowered her in the med bay?

The blond one, -Thor, not Steve-, told her it was his brother Loki. Funny, they didn’t look like brothers. Nothing about the two gods matched. Having been trained to note the smallest similarities between others, it was all too obvious the two were from completely different families.

Loki had stared at her the entire time as if hoping for something. Truthfully she was too because every time she looked to the dark god a memory tried to surface only for the device to flare and set her entire skull on fire. The young woman, -Shuri-, had spoken in Xhosa about removing it, soon.

Soon could mean mere seconds to years. The turning of the doorknob had Treasure wondering if now was the soon Shuri spoke of. Staying seated, it was best to not rush into a fight, especially with literal gods around. Steve had made sure to inform her of Thor and Loki’s, stature.

The shuffling of a canvas bag had her full attention as did the red head who entered and shut the door behind her. The widow gave a smile when she met the others gaze, this wasn’t the assassin Treasure was allowed to remember. This Widow, -Natasha-, had a lighter step than the one she remembered.

Studying the widow as she came closer, Treasure hoped Natasha could explain more of HYDRA’s downfall. There were vague memories of her last time out, the ordeal soaked in blood and things she thankfully couldn’t remember; yet.

“How about we do something about your hair,” the widow began, stepping to edge of the bed to sit the bag next to her. Natasha noted the look of puzzlement, the soldier debating if she should speak.

“You're allowed to speak freely, ask what you like. That’s an order,” the widow smiled, moving so the other could look into the bag as she pulled the contents out to place on the bed.

There were several boxes of hair dye, toiletries, a brush, and tablet Natasha was sure to place in the other’s lap. “This will help you get up to speed on what has transpired since you have been in deep freeze.”

The red head took a seat close to Treasure while tapping the screen of the tablet. Gently Natasha explained it was sat up to play videos and real-time broadcast.  

“Please,” the other finally murmured in answer to the question about her hair as Natasha pressed a finger to the screen to start the video that pulled up first. “I hate it.”

“I know you do,” Natasha sighed, reaching back to the tangled mess of hair, delicately tugging the matted braid free, careful of any and all knots.

Attentively, Treasure watched the video detailing the collapse of SHIELD and HYDRA’s hand in it.

“Shuri speak to you of the device,” Natasha spoke quietly, not wanting to bother Treasure’s concentration on the news footage flashing across the screen.

“I heard they want to remove it,” the other began, studying the tablet while secretly loving the gentle care of someone taking time to tend to her hair that had always been a second thought.

“They are speaking of putting you under,” the red head spoke up, visibly watching the other tense. “But, it was brought up you should be kept awake and Shuri agreed. “

“How soon,” Treasure asked, slowly relaxing as Natasha continued to gently remove the knots in the bleached strands.

“A day, give or take,” the red head admitted, carefully assuring all the tangles were out before getting to her feet to find a towel to place it around Treasure’s shoulders.

“Shuri is a very smart woman, so it may only take her a few hours. She’s trustworthy, she helped Bucky. They are working through the diagram to assure they neutralize all pain. It's a delicate procedure,” Natasha didn’t hesitate to inform as she opened a box of dye to begin getting it ready with materials left in the bag. Pulling on gloves, Natasha began to mix it in a bowl with a brush.

Giving a nod she understood, Treasure went back to watching the tablet while the red head continued to toy with the bleached mess. The soldier hated to admit this was very relaxing, even if she was watching the chaos of the last 9 or so years flash on the screen before her. 

A day later found Treasure laying on her stomach on an operating table, techs and Shuri moving around she and the hovering gurney readying for the procedure. Thankfully they had placed the tablet so she could watch it to pass the time, appearing the teen had found a way to keep her awake, and pain free.

That had her dressed in a thankfully comfortable gown, and the entire team had been more than accommodating when Treasure hesitated to settle onto the table face down. A few moments of coaxing found her lying down with the tablet placed on a chair to keep focus elsewhere.

Shivering as someone brushed the hair away from the back of her neck, making herself calm when a razor passed over the flesh, followed by a drape and quiet reassurance from Shuri. The pressure of a needle had violet eyes fluttering closed as the tablet began to play recent news. Treasure let the pain roll off her as numbing took over her neck, scalp and shoulders.

“Were going to start,” Shuri spoke up, making the woman note there was no feeling whatsoever when the teen asked if she felt the scalpel.

Giving a quiet no, Treasure returned focus to the tablet. The faster she settled and allowed them to work meant this was over quickly.

“What of this Loki,” the woman news reporter began, an image of the very god who had been all but glaring at her since she had come there flashed on screen.  

“He comes to earth in 2012, tries to enslave all of mankind and now has suddenly turned over a new leaf? I don’t trust him-,” the woman continued, a slight twinge at the base of her skull followed by an audible pop told her they had already cut her and popped the device loose from the base of her skull.

Damn, that was quick. The scent of hot copper hit keen senses, making Treasure crinkle her nose, God how she really hated the smell of her own blood. There was no way to explain it, she just hated it.

“We are going to start pulling the 6 leads, let me know if you experience any pain,” Shuri’s voice spoke over the reporter for the woman on the table to utter a quiet yes, followed by the ting of metal into a tray.

Turning attention back to the tablet, noting a male reporter was now on a split screen talking with the woman from earlier. “Well, it can be said,” the man began before the other half of the screen flashed to show scenes of the assault on New York as he continued. “If it wasn’t for Loki then we would have never had to deal with the mad titan Thanos. It was Loki who brought all of this down on us. The death toll-.”

The words the man spouted hatefully became drowned out by a ringing in her right ear, alerting her that something was off, distracting attention from the tablet. The scent of blood stronger and filling sensitive sinuses to make her stomach churn.  

“My nose is starting to bleed,” Treasure spoke loud enough for them to hear. A tech directly next to her stooped to hold thick gauze to her nose

Squinting violet eyes shut, they began to sting, more behind them then in them. This made it hard to stifle a cry that escaped around the gauze. Clenching restrained fist tightly, nails cut into the palms while she growled for them to stop. Never before had she cried out like this, but then again she was always asleep or so addled she didn’t know what was happening.

Gritting her teeth, she was still able to hear out of her left ear the chaos unfolding around her, everyone cursing in Xhosa for it all to end in silence within a few seconds. All pain abated, the room early quiet but for the shuffle of feet and hearing returned.

There was a steady pressure on the small of her back, the feel of cool steel pressed to bare flesh, feeling familiar in a way. Chocking it up to something the teen had developed, Treasure was relieved the nausea was easing along with the strong smell of blood, focusing back on the tablet when the tech was sure her nose was no longer bleeding.   

A quiet shift of boots had Shuri looking back to Loki who held his hand to the small of Treasure’s back. The god was preventing any pain, relieved he chose to stay close in case the extraction didn’t go as planned. He knew the young mortal was very smart, but had a feeling none of them, including himself, knew how this mechanism would react to being removed, there was nothing on removing it in the journal.

Noting the barbed tendril of the one the Wakandan had removed, it had to have been the cause of the pain. Thankfully it was the shortest one they begun with, that meant there shouldn’t be much damage that would heal itself in no time. Relishing in the feel of touching Treasures flesh, Loki nodded to Shuri to continue, glad he was able to hold the illusion his palm was flat instead of his thumb stroking over the soft skin soothingly.

The teen slowly moved back to the wound, discovering if she sent a small electrical charge through the lead being extracted, it kept the barbs closed and was a breeze to extract. Loki watched Shuri close, a tech moving as if to speak to Treasure, but the god shook his head, hinting they not tell her he was there.

Loki was sure Treasure was already having a hard time processing what was happening, and he feared more so as he heard his name being spoken over the tablet.

Norns! Why did they have to give his mate that forsaken piece of equipment? This was not the best way, if memories surfaced during all this, of him; -them-, then this would be pure Hel.

“The sheer death toll alone thanks to this, Loki, can never be forgiven. If I were the Avengers, I would assure he was locked up just like those so-called super soldiers they have been buying from HYDRA. Nothing good-,” the man snarled to another who was apparently trying to defend the teams right to help others.

“Well you're not! And as far as it is concerned, they have every right to help-,” a different woman snapped back before the man cut her off hatefully.

“They all need to be taken to a rock out in space and left there to freeze to death! What is preventing Loki, let alone the newest enhanced soldier they bought, at yet another HYDRA auction, from turning on us? From destroying us from the inside out and manipulating the Avengers?

This last enhanced, a woman, has the highest body count in HYDRA record. She is more a risk then Sgt. Barnes. From history released during the collapse of SHIELD, she is responsible for mass genocide in countless countries over the past several decades. This, Thorn as she is referred to by SHIELD, or Treasure as HYDRA referred to her, should be put on the Raft and left to rot!”

“She wasn’t in control, same as Sgt Barnes! Don’t you dare compare her to the rest of the scum HYDRA has sent out,” the woman bit back.

“Oh no, not this again,” the man snarled at the other reporter. Treasure felt her chest close up; she had no memory of the allegations. Was she that deadly? Was she Thorn or Treasure?

The flesh under Loki’s hand vibrated with anxiety, it wasn’t anything the others would note, but he did. Twisting his freehand at his side, the god caused the tablet to blank but power on to play soothing music accompanied by calming patterns swilling and moving across the screen. The god hoped it was enough to sooth the anxiety, having taken to watching Treasure and not Shuri.

The behavior of the tablet had her eyes narrowing and puzzling at the patterns moving across the screen along with the soothing rhythm of music. It was comforting as she watched the movement and tuned into the music instead of the talk around her. There was a gentle stroke of calloused flesh on the small of her back, as if it was being cherished.

There was a slight tingle at the back of her skull, and this time it wasn’t accompanied by sharp pain to force it away. Closing tired eyes, Treasure slowly lost herself to the tender show of affection from whom ever felt she needed it, and it was greatly appreciated. It was familiar, so familiar it made fist unclench, and body relax.

The god felt the calmness washing over Treasure do the same to himself. Loki knew she didn’t need to learn from an angered news reporter of their past and thinking he may pay the man a visit, soon.

Watching the last of the tendrils pulled free, Shuri began to stitch the wound closed. The moment Loki was no longer needed he would leave, but for now, Loki would relish in the feel of the soft flesh under calloused palm and calming nerves.

Tags: @marshyrebelcloud​ @cruel-kitten​  @moonfaery​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @gramaeryebard​  @katstablook​ @andiyholly​ @jovanna-shewolf​ @nickyl316h​ @aslandia726​ @furstinnajoelle​ @itsbqueenthings​ @collinsstanharbour​ @jazzieomega​ @moonlightprime​ @bambamwolf87​ @tomhardy41​ @get-loki​ @drakonwild​ @alexakeyloveloki​  @scorpionchild81​ @devilbat​ @cherrygeek86​ @jessiejunebug​ @jane-777​ @wegingerangelica​ @iamverity​

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 52: Fog of War

Chapters: 52/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (Getting There) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Give Them A Piece Of Your Mind, Did I Foreshadow Well Enough?, I Might Not Have Forshadowed Well Enough, Loki Does An Oopsie, Shut Up Todd, Girl Get Your Snuggle On

No plan lasts past the first engagement with the enemy.

Loki was tempted just to let the camps burn. Maybe then, there would be fewer interruptions to his sleep!

It wasn't just that. He was simply grumpy about being torn away from that informative dream, and also from you.

You had been sleeping so comfortably in his arms, lain out on his fluffy rug like it was completely natural, and he'd been forced to leave you! That was so irritating!

And out here, in the twilight of midnight, there were humans running to and fro, fighting each other, screaming. There were tents burning, and flaming bottles flying through the air.

All the einherjar, save for the gate guards, were out here, Brunnhilde and the older valkyries, Heimdall,  Ullr, and Gefjon directing the troops into a defensive wall between the attacking humans, Gna and Gersemi leading the emergency healers into the camps to retrieve injured humans, and the rest of Frigga's former handmaidens breaking up smaller brawls.

Loki and Thor headed to the thickest knot of activity, finding a large group of furious humans lobbing burning bottles at the believer's camp. The camp contained many reconstructionists, and there were enough shields, pans, and pot lids to create a shield wall. Every now and then, someone tossed some object over the wall, but for the most part, the faithful were on the defensive.

“They have to run out of bottles some time!” Someone shouted. “Keep Frit gathering the fire!”

“I don't know if he can hold much more!”

“Would have been nice to know about this before!”

“Just hold the wall!”

Though the wall was mostly wooden shields, they didn't burn. Every time one of the fiery missiles smashed against them, the fire disappeared, as if sucked away somewhere else. The attackers continued throwing, undeterred by the failure of their improvised firebombs.

“Make a space!” Someone shouted. “Let him through, let him through!”

An opening appeared in the shield wall and the worm from the camp-Fritjof-barreled through. His arms were wreathed in flame, all the way to his shoulders, and his eyes blazed with it. He aimed both flaming arms at the attacking campers, the fire rolling out in a blast that scattered most of them.

An Aesir! Loki gaped in surprise. The irreverent cur was an Aesir!

The aggressors regrouped quickly, rallying around two who were wrangling a strange weapon, aiming it at the new Aesir. Loki recognized the weapon. He'd used one before.

That was a Chitauri cannon.

Loki flung himself at Fritjof, throwing the fiery human out of the way, putting himself directly in the path of the cannon blast.

It lifted him off his feet, smashing him right through the shield wall. His foes flowed through the breach and fell upon Loki, tearing at his hair, gouging his face, but strangely, not trying to land any killing, or even disabling blows. The defending camp, with their splintered shields and bent pot lids, began to converge, while the cannon-bearers picked themselves back up and took aim again. The attackers scattered back through the broken wall to get out of the way.

Loki sat up, aiming Gungnir.

Thor, who had been helping defend the shattered shield wall, noticed and shouted.

“No, Loki!”

Gungnir's beam sliced through the cannon, splitting it in two. Loki gave his brother a smug look. He hadn't harmed the humans, and he hadn't even intended to.

The power mechanism within the cannon overloaded upon contact with the air, exploding in a concussive burst of blinding light. It flattened Loki, Thor, and the shield wall, blinding and deafening all.

Loki lay dazed, blinking dancing lights from his vision, loud ringing in his ears.

One of Frigga's former handmaidens-Sjofn-rushed to his side, but he pushed her away, shaking his head as he sat up, gesturing to the prone humans all around. They would be hurt far worse than him.

He struggled to his feet, Thor doing the same, gazing out over what had become the battle field. The cannon-bearers weren't there. At all. There was no debris, no remains. They had been completely vaporized. The human aggressors who had rallied to them lay strewn over the ground, some not showing any signs of life.

Damn. Damn! He hadn't meant for that to happen! He hadn't intended for anyone to die!

The camps were still burning, but the fighting had died down, the explosion a climax that stunned everyone involved. Little pockets of aggression were either surrounded and detained by einherjar, or disappeared into the chaos, not to be found. Everyone else was gathering up the injured, and herding all the remaining humans into the city, or forming bucket lines to put out the fires.

Thor placed his hand on Loki's shoulder. He startled, locking eyes with his brother.

“That wasn't supposed to happen!” He exclaimed in shame. “I didn't mean for that to happen! I deliberately tried to avoid killing anybody!”

“I know.” Thor said in the face of his brother's distress. “You saved that boy. You wanted to help them.”

“It's the same as always.” Loki said brokenly. “I wanted to do right for them, and then...this.”

“Let's go inside, Loki.” Thor said, wrapping a supporting arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the gates. “Go inside and get changed. Bathe. Get something to eat. Go to the embrace of your little love. She must be worried about you.”

“Wait, no!” Loki exclaimed. “I can't-I killed more humans! They're dead because of me! I can't go to her, I've-I've failed her! I don't deserve to...”

“Loki, come back to me. Come back. We will need you tonight. Get a short rest, find respite, get yourself together. We are taking the camps into the city, and will need to find a place to house them temporarily. We will need more hands to aid the injured. We will need you to help direct all this. We need you, Loki.”

“Right...” Loki whispered, taking deep breaths. “Right. Right. We need to get organized. Right.”

He straightened up, walked out from under Thor's arm, and headed to the front of the human migration into the city.

“Sequester the prisoners within the nearest guardhouse.” He commanded. “You won't need as many people to guard them that way. Keep the bucket lines out here after the fires are out, to make sure there is no looting. Get all of the badly injured to the healing wing. Humans of Trolekaerhalla to the throne room, humans of the protest camp to the banquet room. I will have no more humans fighting humans tonight.”

“Hey, it was those militants that attacked, not us!” A human from the protest camp yelled.

“Silence.” Loki commanded, and the human obeyed. “Now, everybody in their respective lines, injured first. Go!”

Everyone obeyed.

                                                                        *****

You threw on your blue cloak, and followed Andsvarr, and the messenger that had been sent for you. Humans had been brought into Asgard. Everything was in an uproar: the healing wing was more full than it had ever been, over a hundred humans from the camps had been stuffed into the throne room and banquet hall respectively, guards, aides, and servants were hurrying willy-nilly through the halls. Piles of blankets, carts of food and water, and baskets of first aid supplies were being rushed to the human's new camping grounds.

You too, were being rushed to the camper's aid, the rationale being that you might help to calm the distressed humans, and bolster their morale-and their cooperation.

You were led to the throne room first, where the people of the believer's camp had been based. The messenger left you then, but Andsvarr stayed glued to your side, ushering you up the dais, towards the throne. You were relieved to notice that the humans of the camp were respectful enough that they hadn't approached the throne; you feared that if the protesters had been installed in here, they'd be sitting in it.

As it was, it gave you the room to get up above everyone a bit, so you could address the crowd.

“Everyone!” You called, and everyone who wasn't distributing supplies turned to face you.

“Everyone who can understand English, please translate for those who can't. I need to speak with you. Now, I'm told you were attacked without provocation, and your tents set on fire. You've been brought here temporarily while the fires are put out.”

You paused to allow for translation. Out in the crowd, you spotted Sofie handing over a blanket at about the same time she saw you. She and another woman, with black hair and beautiful fur clothing, began shouldering through the crowd towards you.

“Einherjar will be patrolling the area to prevent looting, and also to seek out anyone who might have run away from the fighting, and is trying to return. It won't be safe out there for tonight, but I think that you'll be allowed back out to grab your things tomorrow.

I don't know how many tents are intact. You might have to stay here for a little while, but that's okay, we'll take care of you.”

“My seidkona!” Someone cried. Even the camp knew? “There were injured people. Do you know where they are?”

“They'll be in the healing wing.” You said. “I've been there before. The doctors here are very competent. Once they are safe, they'll probably be brought back here.”

Sofie called your name, finally making it to the front of the dais. The woman who was with her grasped your hand in both of hers.

“Please.” She said. “Fritjof is missing. You know him. Do you know where he is?”

Fritjof? That jerk who had manhandled you out in the camp?

“I don't know. I'm sorry. If he's with the healers, they'll send him back here once they finish patching him up. If he's still outside, and hasn't run off-”

The black-haired woman shook her head. “He wouldn't run.”

“Then the einherjar should find him, and he'll be brought here. Asgard will take care of him. They'll take care of anyone they find, so don't worry.”

“But what if he died?”

“I...haven't been informed of any deaths...” You said slowly.

A man cleared his throat. “There were casualties. I saw them.”

“Damn. Well, we'll do what people normally do in that case. Identify them, contact next of kin, take care of them.”

Once the woman had released your hands, others came forward to grasp them, or your cloak, or to simply reach out and lightly brush you with their fingers. Soon, it seemed like the whole camp had surrounded you, each one simply wanting to touch you reverently, murmuring your title.

It was monumentally uncomfortable. You had suddenly become an object of worship. Even Andsvarr was subjected to the laying on of hands, though he remained admirably stoic about it.

“Are you a god?” Someone asked him.

“No. I am a guard.” He answered. “I protect the seidkona.”

Several people blessed him for that, and you had the feeling his face was rapidly growing as hot as yours felt.

“Where will we live?” Someone else asked. “A lot of tents were completely destroyed. Likely most of our belongings too. Some of us don't have the money for new tents, and I don't know that everyone else has room for all the people who lost out.”

“Well, um, on that subject I have some good news.” You said, trying to wiggle away from all the outstretched hands without making it obvious that you were. “Asgard has been in talks about building permanent structures for your settlement. I think they're called longhouses? They would be available for any of you to live in, if you wanted to, and could be added on to if more people come. It would be your choice to live there or not, but they would be available. It was Loki's idea.”

“Praise Loki!” Someone cried.

“Skål!” Someone else shouted, echoed around the room by dozens of voices.

“You will probably need to help with building them.” You warned. “Most of Asgard's construction workers are tied up with working on the city. But if we all work hard together, we can probably get them built before winter comes.”

Pledges and cheers went up around the room, and by the time you left, both you and Andsvarr had been decorated with small gifts, despite your protests.

You were almost happy to escape, except that now you had to go address the protest camp, and you didn't think things would be so friendly with them.

                                                                           *****

Silence reigned when you entered the banquet hall, though it was not the respectful, expectant silence of the faithful. This was cold silence and cold expressions, reserved for people who had intruded where they didn't belong. Stacks of blankets and supplies lay on the tables and against the walls, untouched.

Andsvarr helped you up onto a chair.

“Alright, everyone.” You said. You knew all of these people were American, you knew they could understand you. “Do any of you know what happened out there? Like, what started this?”

No one said anything.

“There's Asgardians out there right now, putting out fires and protecting your stuff from getting stolen, but it won't do a lick of good if you just get attacked again. What happened?”

For a few moments, there was simply more cold silence. Then Todd spoke up from the back. He alone had taken some bandages, and was wrapping his swollen wrist.

“It was the militant camp. You know about them, right? That they're different from us?”

You groaned internally. Of course Todd was the only one who felt comfortable talking to you. Of course it was the one person you didn't want to talk to!

But whatever, at least someone was talking, and Andsvarr was right there. You'd be fine.

“What I know is that neither your camp, or theirs, has really wanted to talk to me all that much, so I haven't been appraised of the differences between you. Can you elaborate?”

Todd paused to regard you with a touch of confusion. Your speech patterns had changed since the days when you were under his thumb. When you were with him, he had tried to convince you that you were 'Sweet, but not all that smart', and you had started reading a whole lot more after you had left him.

“Uh, well, they have a lot of weapons, for one thing.” He said. “Knives, and molotovs, and I swear I saw a machete. We don't have anything like that. Well, we had knives, for everyday stuff, setting up tents, you know? They took those away though.”

“We'll never see them again.” a woman grumbled.

“They're not gonna keep your stuff.” You said. “It's just so that nobody stabs anybody else.”

“You don't give a captive enemy their weapons back.”

“You're not captives, and you're not their enemy. You're just-”

“Their our enemies! Earth's enemies!” There was a low rumbling of approval.

“How?” You asked. “How are they enemies?”

“Loki-”

“No, not Loki!” You snapped. “There are over three thousand people out there, and only one of them is Loki! How have any of the rest of these people caused you any problems? The soldiers who ran out there and put themselves between you and danger? The helpers who brought you blankets and food? The doctors, who are helping your injured? The children? That is who these people are! Not one man who has wronged us, but thousands of people!”

“They're going to become trouble.” She insisted. “They're too different, and they already have a war criminal among them!”

You crossed your arms. “You're one of those assholes who didn't want to let any of the Sokovian refugees into the States because some of them might be criminals, aren't you?” She backed off, beet red in the face. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

“H-how do you think you can talk like that to me!”

“You guys carried around signs with my face crossed out when I was going off to testify against a murderer who attempted to assassinate me. I don't need to be polite to you.”

“Look, if he was just a regular criminal, we wouldn't be making such a fuss...” Someone else cut in. “But this guy invaded. He brought an army. He attacked an entire city, a major metropolitan center! He was trying to conquer us! We're not gonna forgive him overnight! Or ever, probably.”

“And nobody expects you to! I sure don't.” You answered. “But he's one guy, in an entire species of people; you can't judge them all by the actions of one man.”

“I think the major problem here is that this 'one guy' is a ruler of Asgard.” Todd chimed back in. “So, I get where you're coming from, but all the people here are under his leadership. He controls policy, he can order them to do things. He has influence over them. And it's just really frustrating that Thor refuses to turn him over to justice, while his people fawn over him and he sits in the lap of luxury.”

“We put him in prison, you know.” Andsvarr said. People recoiled from him in surprise and fear.

“He can talk?” Todd exclaimed. You gave him a disgusted look. “English, I mean. He can understand what we're saying?”

“Of course I can. I learned for the seidkona's benefit.” Andsvarr said proudly. “Many people are learning English now. But I think you miss the point. Prince or not, we made him face justice for what he did here. When Allfather Thor brought him back to Asgard, he was sent to prison. There was no place on this planet that could have held him.

I do not know what would have eventually befallen him there, because, just as his highness invaded your world, so too was our world invaded. The Allmother was killed in that attack, while protecting a human.

The prince escaped somehow, but instead of running away to safety, he also protected that human, and all the people of all the realms, and he was willing to give his life to do so.”

“But he's still alive.” Someone pointed out.

“Yes, but he didn't know he would be. He thought he was dead, but he did it anyway. I know his highness shows different faces to different people, but if you ask me for the measure of a man, I cannot give you any better than that.”

No few people seemed to be considering what Andsvarr had said, and you couldn't help but wonder how many people where here for real anti-Asgardian conviction, and how many were just curious.

“All right, but why should we believe you? You work for him. And you could have just been fed a bunch of propaganda.”

“I could have.” Andsvarr said. “But I stand outside his room every day, and was specially assigned to see to the safety of the seidkona. She came to us sick and vulnerable, and I have seen her grow strong under his care. When others trouble her, he does his best to protect and comfort her. He takes an interest in her health and happiness. Why would he do this, if she was just a victim? Why would he put in so much effort, if he did not care?”

“And I tried to tell you all this before, but you didn't seem to hear me.” You said. Yes, you were scolding now, but it was the middle of the 'night', you had been pulled out of an informative dream, and pulled out of the arms of the man you were rapidly falling more and more for. You'd had to allow that same man out into battle, so you'd had to worry about him, and Sofie, and all of the other people outside, and now you were expected to address those people as if you were some kind of authority, and they weren't having it. You were tired, you were stressed, you were grumpy, and you were just done with it all.

“Frankly, I'm completely over all this bullshit. You guys don't have to stay, and you don't have to leave. You don't have to forgive Loki, and you don't have to give a shit about me. You don't have to use the blankets. You don't have to like anyone here. But you damn well better behave while you're in someone else's house, you hear me? And that means while you are outside too, because Iceland isn't gonna deal with your barnyard manners either. Figure out what you're really here for, then act accordingly. I'm out.”

You hopped of the chair, pushed past Todd, and stormed out of the room. Stomping down the hall, you reflected that you probably should have put more effort into professionalism and diplomacy. Acting like that would have gotten you fired at your old job. But you were extremely cranky, and were you even considered 'on the clock' right now? Or did you now have one of those jobs were you were technically never off?

When Andsvarr got you back to your room, you noticed Loki's door was open, and you could see the firelight flickering down the hallway. You peeked your head in to see him standing near the fire, still in his armor, wringing his hands.

“Loki?” He started, whirling to face you.

“They told me you went to see the camps?” He asked, trying to fake composure. You could see it in the tightness around his eyes, the set of his narrow lips.

“Yeah. I was supposed to calm them down. Don't think I really did.” You reached up and removed his helmet, letting his hair fall around his face. He inclined his head a little, silently, to allow you.

You placed the heavy helmet next to a ewer of liquid, on the dresser beside his large bed. Then you poured him a drink from it, and handed it over. He took a sip, watching you as you searched out the release clasps for his cape.

“I told Trolekaerhalla about the longhouses, and they are very excited. I think you've made some friends there. I saw Sofie too, and I think she's recording everything, so I hope that's okay. I got pretty snippy with the protester's camp, but they were rude, and Todd was there, so I eventually just told them to sort themselves out, and left.”

You lay the thick cape over the back of one of his plush chairs, then took him by the wrist, turned his hand palm up, and began to unfasten his bracer.

Piece by piece, you divested him of the trappings of war, a ritual flaying of his protective skins, leaving him in his leather trousers, and a shirt of quilted green silk. He looked like a raw emerald crystal; beautiful and precious.

Still quiet, he rubbed his hands up and down your shoulders, slowly leading you to sit down on the bed, then took a place at your feet. He hugged you around your middle and lay his head in your lap.

So pleasant. You felt soft all over, warm and weirdly protective. This would have been even more wonderful, if Loki wasn't acting so apprehensive. It was like he was struggling to make himself say something he knew would upset you. In silence, you stroked his hair patiently, waiting until he was ready.

Long minutes passed with just the fire flickering, his breath, and the strength of his clinging arms.

“I made a mistake out there.” He murmured, breaking the comforting silence. “I killed people. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, Loki...” You breathed.

“I didn't mean to! I made every effort not to! But it still happened anyway. Norns, I tried...For you, I tried. For them...”

“Tell me what happened.” You cajoled gently. Looked like you were still 'on the clock' after all.

“Much happened, all at once. Battle is like that. I went to where the fighting looked its worst, and found the aggressors throwing makeshift firebombs at our faithful. They were defending themselves valiantly, and did you know? I think that wretch who mistreated you might be a human Aesir?”

“There are human Aesir?”

“Yes. At least, there have been, in the past. Their names have been passed down as legends and cultural heroes, but they existed, and still exist, if what I saw is any indication. He absorbed the fire thrown at his fellows, and directed it back at his attackers. But I lost him in the fray. I know not if he still lives.”

“He's not the one you killed?”

“Accidentally.” He insisted. “I swear. No. The aggressors had a Chitauri cannon. And they knew how to fire it. I could not allow them to do so a second time, so I destroyed the weapon. I thought only to disarm them, that they may be apprehended, and not harm anybody else, but I forgot that the Chitauri do not value their people as we do. Their weapons are designed to explode when sufficiently damaged. It's wielders died, and I don't know how many others as well.”

“Loki, That's really terrible, but I don't think you can really be blamed for it-”

“No, it is my fault. It was a stupid lapse in judgment, on my part. I have worked with Chitauri before, I should have remembered this. Now people are dead because my first thought was to destroy, rather than confiscate. They were humans, they could not match my strength. I could have just taken it away from them. Now I do not know what will happen. The government of Iceland will no doubt rapidly run out of patience with human deaths within their borders. This is a peaceful country, and I do not want Asgard to become associated with violence and murder here.

And that does not even take into account that these are your people, specifically. I'll be hearing even more from the American government soon, I know it. All the same threats, all the same demands, even more justified this time.”

“More justified? They were trying to kill people with a highly contraband weapon, who's justifying that? How did they even get a Chitauri weapon anyway? Chitauri stuff is super illegal to own, and they knew that. Everyone knows that!”

“You are not angry with me?” He gazed up anxiously from your lap. Your insides melted down into a warm puddle. Was he really so worried about that?

I tried for you, he had said.

“I'm not mad.” You assured him. “I'm disappointed that it came to that, and sad that it ended badly, even though you tried to avoid it. But I still say you're not to blame. I get where you're coming from when you say you should have known better, but that doesn't erase the fact that they brought an alien laser gun to fight against people with wooden shields and hatchets. And they ambushed them to boot! I'm saying that they had a bit more responsibility for their actions than you did. You went out there to defend; they went out there to murder. It's not the same thing.”

“You are very forgiving. Much more than I deserve.”

“I think it's that I'm not attached.”

He continued gazing up at you, as you continued stroking his hair. “Can you explain?”

“Well...” You thought about it. “I wasn't in New York when you attacked, or even for years afterward. I didn't know anybody in New York, and I didn't know anybody who knew anybody in New York. It might as well have been a world away. No personal connection. I was as dismayed as anyone else, but it didn't really reach me. Even when I went to visit, everything had already been rebuilt. I suppose if I came from there, I wouldn't be able to forgive you, but I was just so far removed from it all. I wonder if I should feel more strongly about it? But I just don't. I hope that's not too cruel. I only feel sad, not angry.”

“Will you tell me what you were doing that day?”

“Why do you want to know?” You remembered, of course. It had been an important day. It confirmed the truth of alien life. It brought superheroes fully into the public consciousness. But why would Loki care what you in particular were doing that day?

“It was important, wasn't it? It seemed so big, so important. But it turns out, there were billions of humans, like you, who weren't fighting. Who were simply going about their everyday business. I didn't even slow them down. Where were you? What were you doing? What were you thinking and feeling?”

He was feeling guilty! Actually guilty over what he had done. So far, Loki had expressed guilt through gifts and information, and you suddenly realized the core of his troubles with Earth.

It was that there was nothing to fix.

Everything had been rebuilt. Memorials had been created. Deaths had been mourned. There was nothing left for him to do. Nothing for him to give. No patronage he could offer. Humanity held its grudge, but it had also moved on.

Loki might genuinely want to help, but there was nowhere for him to aim his guilt-driven altruism. He'd hit upon something with the longhouse idea, but aside from building a whole second city for the faithful, there were only so many of those he could have made.

You leaned down to awkwardly hug him; he sighed and snuggled into your thighs.

“Well, I was at home, making yeast rolls. Tara called me, told me to turn on the radio, so I did. For the next couple of hours I just kept doing housework, and wondering what to do. Should I leave? Where would I go? I was scared, but I didn't have any kind of plan. There was nowhere to escape to, and the things I was hearing...they just didn't seem real. I watered my plants. I took a yeast roll, and I went for a long walk. I wanted a long reminder of my peaceful hometown, in case it all came tumbling down.”

There had been people on the road, heading west, getting out of town. You had just put on some bug spray and gone out walking. Memorizing the flowers at the verges of the cornfields, watching the grasshoppers jump, sweating under the sun. And when that sun started to set, when the cicadas began to buzz, when your phone showed you the outcome of the battle, you'd turned around and walked home, relieved, but confused.

You, like everyone, mostly just wanted to know why. And now you knew why. And it was huge! And it had to remain secret, forever. You had to keep that secret, like a jewel in a locked box; precious and important, and utterly forbidden.

“After it was all done, I came home, and called my dad, and ate dinner. Then I went to work the next day. My life was the same, but the world was different. You did have an impact, don't ever think you didn't. You were a household name. You opened our eyes. Yeah, we didn't like it at all, you did kill a lot of people, and you should feel bad about that. But you also revitalized our space programs, and reminded us that we are not the pinnacle of creation. I think we need that occasionally, I just wish it didn't have to be so murdery.”

“I can assure you, I have no intention to become so...'murdery' ever again.”

Loki released your waist, kneeling back on his heels. He left his hands resting on your hips.

“I wish that I could keep you from danger. I wish that I could have taken you back to Asgard, that you could have seen it, and me...all of us, in all our glory. I feel like a burden now, wherever I go.”

You leaned forward again, drawing him back into your embrace. You felt that he probably needed more hugs, and luckily for him, you had an endless supply.

“You look like a man, to me.” You said, resuming your hair stroking.

You plucked a lock forward.

“Say, did somebody cut your hair? You've got some missing here.”

“Oh. Yes.” He said. He had wriggled his way between your knees, to hug you better, and it was making your breath heavy. “I took the cannon blast because I did not think the faithful would be able to withstand it. My armor held, and I wasn't badly hurt, but the militants swarmed me while I was down. It seems like they couldn't find a way past my armor, so they just went after my face and hair, since that was all that was exposed.”

“Geez. I'm glad you're safe.”

“There was never any doubt. But your concern is...gratifying.”

You stifled a yawn, but he noticed.

“Yes, our sleep was rudely interrupted, wasn't it? Well, we should probably get back to it, shouldn't we?”

Loki led you back you your room, parting with you only reluctantly.

“I want you out there with me tomorrow, helping to oversee things. Please be prepared.”

You drew your curtains and went straight to bed, oddly excited.

[asgardianborn]

 okay hear me out i have some ideas

old norse myths that don’t tell of gods but of monsters that live in the woods, protectors out mountains, beasts that can summon storms into the sky. thor, an old blood monster, an eye gouged out from a battle long ago, scars that hum and glow like thunder and lightning during rainfall. a large creature, with tough skin, almost unbreakable, strong and powerful. his voice like the thunder he controls, deep and booming, said to be deafening for those who get too close.

old monster thor, over a thousand years old and once a protector of humans who turned their back on him. who took his eye and banished him. who once summoned rains to cure the droughts of lands, who brought storms that were chaotic and bright but the most beautiful sight to those who were lucky to see them. 

thor who’s become a thing of legends and myths, turned into a monster by stories passed down and words twisted by those who saw the supposed monsters as nothing more than beasts.

SOMEONE PLS WRITE THIS WITH ME

[lastdancewith-mj]

Tony Stark & Everyone Else*

*by everyone else I mean Tony Stank, Mr. Howard Potts, and Mr. Anthony Edward Stark. (what, did you honestly think Tony shares the spotlight?)

You’ll find that love actually is all around

Tony doesn’t want to see it; in fact, he’d rather enjoy a good session of eye-gouging right about now, but he can’t tare his eyes away. Not when Thor is laid back on the couch and Maria has Roger’s jacket draped over her (of course Steve would do that, the bastard). There’s this feeling in Tony’s chest and he wishes Pepper were here so he could have someone familiar to lean on. But the feeling spreads and it travels up his throat and courses down into his stomach. It’s strange because it’s not often he’s in a room filled with people and likes most of them. 

It’s not necessarily love, because love-at-first-house-party makes him sound like a narrator for a YA novel. But as he scans the room, and catches Natasha’s eye, Tony marks that night as the first time he makes an oath to himself. The oath, he’s not sure what it is yet. 

Do not go gentle into that good night

Sometimes at night when Tony can’t bear to be in his own skin anymore he goes on the roof and watches the sun rise. He likes to imagine that there are thousands of people around the world doing the same thing, and the thought alone calms him down. 

Tony imagines there’s a single mother of four somewhere two blocks down, watching the sun rise from her window sill. She’s thinking about next month’s rent and her batshit crazy mom. And then there’s the night janitor going home in time to catch the glow of the sun bouncing off the shiny buildings, and it makes him pause long enough for him forget about his bad dreams. The little girl isn’t afraid of the monster in her closet when the sun comes up because she knows she’s invincible when there’s light. 

It keeps Tony going for a little while longer. 

A day may come when the courage of men fails, but it is not this day

Tony looks up from his food in a daze. Across from him, Clint’s hunched over, his hands clutching a wrap and squeezing pretty hard, judging by the sauce coming out the other end. Natasha is beside him, looking down, avoiding the prospect of starting a conversation with anyone. 

But Tony keeps looking at her, and even thinks about kicking her from under the table (even though he can’t reach her) when she finally feels his eyes on her and looks up. 

Natasha is the best at hiding behind a mask of indifference and it always made her look darker, more mysterious. Now, her eyes are wide open (and a little red around the edges) and she smiles, which is something Tony likes to see, and he know that if he ever has to go down to save Natasha, he would. Only because her smile can motivate any army, even the outnumbered, about-to-risk-it-all ones that definitely need help. 

I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take this anymore!

Pepper is certainly mad on Monday morning, and of course, it’s Tony’s fault. 

Not that he blames her. She has every right to be frustrated on Monday because Tony had a great idea on Sunday night to take apart the pieces of the coffee machine, (intending to put it back together again) only to forget about it in favor of the sun rise. 

So apparently the situation now is Pepper has to leave earlier to get to go coffee, which means she has to call Happy and tell him to leave earlier, and she hates asking him for stupid things like that. Which means, according to Pepper, this weird guilt is going to eat at her all because Tony can’t keep his hands to himself. 

But as she’s yelling at Tony (getting slightly off topic because it’s not Tony’s fault her assistant typed ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’ in their report on Friday) he can’t help but to stare at her. Here is Pepper, standing in his kitchen, reaching for her mug, her cheeks this beautiful shade of red that he loves. 

He can take this any day. 

I can do this all day.

It’s not like Steve got it copyrighted, so Tony feels like he can borrow the phrase every once in a while. But to avoid the teasing, he keeps it to himself. It’s like a little secret only he knows. Because while the tabloids are gossiping about how Tony Stark very well cannot do anything all day (they don’t say that exactly, it’s more along the lines of rumors of Tony have depression and blah blah blah). But Tony knows. He knows that if he had to he can stand up again. He can feel it. Sometimes he wishes it would happen, just to prove everyone wrong, that he’s not delicate not malleable not crazy not anxious not reckless not arrogant not not not not not not not not not

(What he doesn’t know is that he already did, many times, without even thinking about it. and that sometimes, average people watch the sun rise and like to image someone as strong as Tony Stark watching it with them too. It keeps them going a little while longer).

                                                           ***

Quotes are from these in order from first to last: Love Actually, the poem Do not go Gentle into that Good Night, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, The Network, and the last one I think is a given :) 

If you enjoyed this please leave a comment!

Masterlist

[bourbonbucky]

to the winds (away from the calm eye)

thorki, 3K words, unedited, E rating. posting to tumblr bc i don’t really like it?? but i finished it and i want to put it somewhere? eh, i’m just having one of those days where i don’t like how anything i write comes out. 

The night Thor was born a freak tornado wiped out three quarters of his hometown. He was born in a kitchen, the only home untouched in a three mile path of destruction. His home was the last home with power in a fifty mile radius of the storm. He was called a miracle, born of thunder, storm-breaker.

Thor would wail into the silence of the night, only sleeping peacefully if the sky quaked and the rains fell.

○

Priests hailed his birth at the local temple. A sign of prosperity for their future.

Thor’s first memory was walking up to an altar clothed in golden robes. He remembered lightning striking just outside an open window and laughing as everyone around him cowered in fear.

○

Thor never knew the name of his father and by the time he was eight years old his mother had passed from sickness. He stayed in the temple after that, raised by the priests of a dead god. They would whisper at night, desperate prayers even as they knew they wouldn’t be answered. Dead gods could not grant their favor.

Thor was angry. He didn’t know how to be anything but angry.

○

When he was twelve he began learning to fight, and the priests were proud at how natural he was. He grew strong with little training, invigorated by having a way to relieve the rage that had grown in him.

That was the first time he met the transient priest, Loki.

There were many priests that traveled, but very few who honored the dead storm god. This man came in with flowers and herbs, and richer offerings of good meat. The priests knew him, though some seemed fearful.

He kept his distance from the attendants and priests, but Thor couldn’t help walking right up to him during a meal.

The man’s bright eyes turned to him, so green they hardly seemed human. He tilted his head and offered the space on the bench next to him.

“What’s your name, little priest?” He asked.

Thor plopped down easily and began digging into the food he’d gathered. “I’m Thor. You?”

A dark eyebrow arched. “Were you originally named for the dead god, or re-named?”

Thor ate a piece of juicy meat he pilfered from a cook with a weakness for puppy dog eyes. “I’ll tell you if I can know your name.”

A look crossed the man’s face, taken aback for only a moment before it dissolved into a smile. “I’m Loki.”

Thor stopped chewing and stared at him. “Do I know you?”

Loki swallowed roughly, control of his face slipping for just a moment before he wrestled it back. “I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

Thor gave a lopsided grin. “I was re-named after my mom died, but everyone called me that when I was born anyway. I don’t remember my other name.”

Loki hummed reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “I think the name suits you.”

The priests seating around them were staring openly, but neither he nor Loki paid any mind.

Thor didn’t bother asking his question again. Loki left the next day and that night Thor found a necklace under his pillow.

It was a hammer, intricately carved and heavy. The pendant alone was the size of his hand and the chain it hung on was made of thick gold links. Thor put it on and once he did he couldn’t bring himself to ever take it off.

○

The priests noticed the pendant, but said nothing. Thor found for the first time in his life that he could sleep peacefully on quiet nights as long as he wore it.

He asked the head priest when Loki would return.

○

Thor trained more heavily during the summers and filled in his wide frame as he neared adulthood. He built muscle with work and combat practice. It was an old tradition, but suited him well.

He got stretch marks across his biceps and on his thighs, faint lines of pink that faded to white. They stretched across his skin like lightning.

When a boy his age smiled at him and leaned in for a kiss, Thor thought about the priest who gifted him his necklace.

○

The quiet of his nights ended after six years. Thor dreamt, and nightmares took him. For the first time in so long he woke up screaming. He felt as helpless as a child again.

He prayed to a dead god with his name and felt hollow.

○

Loki found him splitting firewood one afternoon. It had been many years since Loki had come, and Thor was considered an adult by all rights now.

He thought Loki should have looked different. Older. All that changed was that his hair was longer. Now he seemed barely older than Thor, his face smooth and eyes bright.

His eyes fell on the pendant and he smiled. “Hello, Thor.”

“Loki.” Thor lodged his ax into a log and walked up to the priest. “How long will you be here?”

Loki looked off toward the small temple and hummed. “I'm not sure. I've nowhere to be in the next few weeks.”

Thor's face lit up, he couldn't hide his excitement. “Weeks?”

Loki nodded and a small smile curled his lips. “I’m surprised you still remember me.”

Thor touched the pendant that say heavy on his chest. “This stopped my nightmares for a long time. I wanted to say thank you.”

“You have nightmares?” Loki asked, eyes darting back to the pendant at Thor's chest for a moment.

Thor nodded. “Terrible ones. I only sleep well if there's a storm.”

Loki regarded him with a puzzled look. “Tell me about one of your nightmares, I may be able to help.”

Thor took a deep breath and tried to shake the nervousness constricting his throat. “Sure. The first I remember having is… very violent. Just to warn you.”

They moved to the cord of firewood and took seats, Loki at his right side.

“It's alright, Thor, I'd like to hear whichever you’re willing to tell.” Loki's voice was calm and it helped keep Thor even.

“Okay. I have this nightmare that my eye is getting gouged out. They’re also cutting open my belly with a knife, and I can feel it. I can feel them gutting me and ripping my eye out of its socket. I always wake up screaming and crying from that one.” Thor put a hand to his stomach and another to the pendant. “I'd stopped having it when you gave this to me, but it came back a few nights ago.”

Loki only nodded, his eyes steady on Thor's face. “Have you ever left this place?”

Thor shook his head. “I was born here. I'll probably die here.”

A gentle hand grabbed his and Thor looked at where Loki was touching him. His skin was cold as ice and Thor felt soothed after so long under the sun.

He met Loki's eyes and felt a bit unsure of himself as his stomach flipped.

Loki smiled. “You're an adult, are you not? What holds you here?”

Thor opened his mouth, then closed it. The temple existed before he was born and it would exist after. He had no family, no friends to speak of.

Loki took his silence as an answer, it seemed, because he was quickly pulling Thor to his feet. “I can take you anywhere, if you'd like. We can work through your nightmares and make them end.”

Loki's voice was animated, his eyes bright. It was infectious and Thor found himself smiling.

“Can we leave tonight? We'll make offerings to the dead god and leave.” Thor readjusted his hand to hold Loki's, his grip tight.

An end to the nightmares. He couldn’t imagine.

Something flashed in the priest's eyes for just a moment, then he was nodding. “Of course. We shouldn't forget the dead god.”

○

Thor knelt at the old stone altar with Loki at his side and knew that before this moment he'd never known peace.

○

There were traveler’s cabins all through the woods, and Loki found one just big enough for the two of them. The cot was overly small, but Thor had slept on the actual stone floor in the basement of the temple for making trouble as a child, so he could handle it.

The night was quiet, and Thor’s chest felt tight. Loki had given him a tea made from small, red flowers that was fast putting him to sleep.

His eyes slipped shut before he knew, his ears straining to focus on the sounds of Loki moving about.

Darkness came, and nothing more.

○

Loki woke him early in the morning, a steaming mug in his hands. Thor sat up with a slight wobble and accepted it with a grin and a quiet thanks.

They sat side by side on the cot, stealing warmth in the unheated cabin. Late summer was fading quickly, the fall approaching too fast for Thor’s liking. Winter didn’t have the right kind of storms to keep his mind quiet.

Though, with Loki, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

○

Fire consumed his skin, eating away at him. He fought through it, stronger than all of them. Then the moon fell out of the sky and Thor felt his heart stop. His friend, his dear friend was dying. He could hear screaming in the distance, and explosions. They hadn’t killed the demigod, and they’d wished they had.

Hands grabbed him, yanking him back. Someone screaming his name.

“Thor!” Loki?

Thor spasmed and fell off the cot, his chest heaving and body covered in sweat. He braced himself on his forearms and let his head drop forward as he struggled to breathe.

“That… was a new one.” Thor panted.

Loki grabbed his face and forced his mind to focus. Thor slipped one hand over Loki’s and closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch. Dawn hadn’t come yet, but he knew he wouldn’t get anymore sleep.

“It was a new nightmare?” Loki asked, gently pushing him to sit upright.

Thor nodded. “I saw strange things. I was on fire, fighting someone, and the moon fell out of the sky. I felt like, like I knew him. I was heartbroken and angry, and then I felt someone grabbing me.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open as he spoke, and he took several deep breaths. His hand was shaking.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked.

Loki nodded. “I know where I want to take you, but it will be a long journey on foot. It could take us months to get there.”

Thor swallowed, not overly thrilled about the idea of camping so tired from fighting his sleeping mind. But still, what was a few months if meant an end?

“This place, it can make the nightmares stop? Are you sure?” Thor reached out and grabbed Loki’s hand, drawing idle patterns in his palm.

Loki opened his hand to give Thor more room, his eyes rapt at the motions of Thor’s fingers. “I know it will.”

A small, tired smile pulled at Thor’s lips. “Then I’ll follow you.”

○

Loki showed him how to forage for the valerian that was used to make the sleeping tea, as well other herbs and roots that could be used for anything from cooking to medicine. Some nights, even without the tea, Thor didn’t have nightmares. His dreams were as intense, but filled with much different material.

A blush crept up his cheeks as he watched Loki sharpen a blade, remembering the dream that woke him that morning.

He’d seen Loki on his knees, dressed in gold chains and green silk. Thor’s cock was in his hands and pressed against his lips.

Loki looked at him and smiled and Thor forced himself to look away.

○

They didn’t find another traveler’s cabin by the time the sun was setting, so Loki had them set camp and create a makeshift shelter. The skies were clear, so there was little worry over rain.

Loki curled into his side in the light of the fire and Thor’s mouth went dry.

“You’ve grown into a beautiful man, Thor.” Loki grabbed his hand and brought it up between them, appraising with deft fingers. “Strong, as well.”

Thor turned his hand over so his callouses faced them. “You think?”

Loki laughed softly. “Well, I don’t say it simply to give you an ego.”

He clasped his hand over Loki’s, intertwining their fingers. “I always thought you were beautiful, too.”

“I’m flattered to have made such an impression. You only saw me once when you were a child, after all.” Loki’s thumb pulled away and rubbed against the side of his hand.

Thor hummed, a smile on his lips. “You know, you never answered my question back then.”

Loki made a soft noise in question.

Thor gripped his hand tight. “Do I know you?”

Loki’s thumb stilled, and Thor could hear him swallow. “You do.”

A breath passed between them before Thor spoke again. “Did I know you before you came to the temple when I was a boy?”

Loki turned Thor’s hand around and pressed it to his forehead, his eyes slipping shut. “I’d hoped these questions would wait until we were up the mountain. There’s so little I can explain down here.”

Thor eased his grip. “But you’ll explain?”

Loki nodded against his hand. “In full, I promise you.”

“Do you know the cause of the nightmares, is that why you know how to fix them?” Thor asked.

Again Loki nodded, this time opening his eyes and turning just enough to look at Thor. “If you can wait until we’re up the mountain, I will answer any questions you have. I wish we could do it here, but I lack the resources.”

Thor’s brows furrowed. “You’re not a transient priest?”

Loki smiled and lifted his head. “No, I’m not. But I’m the only one who can help you.”

It wasn’t an answer, not even close, but Thor took it. He remembered the first time he saw Loki sitting in the dining hall removed from everyone. The priests had whispered, fearful and reverent at once. They warned Thor not to get too close, but Thor never would have listened.

Loki’s eyes and face had drawn him in, beckoned him closer and closer. Where the priests kept several paces away, Thor felt compelled to get as close to Loki as possible.

Now, travelling with him, Thor felt the same compulsion like a moth to a porch light.

The sound of Loki’s breath lulled him to sleep.

○

As they neared the base of the mountain sleep was a luxury Thor forgot he ever had. He woke screaming more often than not. In his dreams he was gutted again, but unlike in his childhood, he felt everything. Loki kept his face carefully expressionless, a blank slate devoid of any tell as to what he thought.

Thor was angry all the time, the way he was when he was a child. His only release was hunting, so they ate well.

○

Months slipped by and Thor felt like he was nearing the end of his life. This trip would kill him if the lack of sleep didn’t do the job first.

○

Loki could hike longer than any man Thor had ever met. Even when Thor was close to passing out from exhaustion, Loki didn’t seem phased.

They made quick progress through the forests, but still Thor could barely sleep.

He laid in bed and stared up into the dark canopy of trees. Something was wrong with him. It always had been.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him out of his head. Loki laid down beside him and rubbed his scalp. Thor fell asleep in seconds and slept until the sun woke him.

Loki wasn’t next to him when he woke.

○

“This should be the last hike. We’re almost there.” Loki told him, grabbing his arm to pull him along faster. “Just a couple more miles.”

Thor nodded and ignored the burning in his legs and his lungs.

○

It was a temple. The place Loki had brought him to was an old ruin, ancient looking. Walls were carved into the mountain while others had been built out from it but since fallen. Thor’s mind was silenced on this holy ground. The moon above him seemed brighter, like it was calling to him.

He whipped around but Loki was gone.

“Loki?” Thor called, but received no response.

Thunder filled the air, lightning flickering through the clouds in the distance. Thor took a breath and thought he could almost feel the electricity inside himself. Buzzing, climbing up his spine, threatening to overtake him.

He turned back around, to see if Loki was there, but all he saw was the altar.

Wind pushed at his back, shoving him. Thor frowned and took careful steps to the center of the temple ruin. A raised dais had been carved into the floor. He could see in his mind where chisels would have broken away the stone to create this.

His legs carried him up the worn steps, moving ever forward to a tomb. The lid on top had writing he felt he should know, but couldn’t read. Inscriptions littered the surface of the grey stone, pictures and other carvings telling a story. It was about the dead god. This entire place was dedicated to the dead god. Thor could feel it in his heart the way he could feel it when the priests back home sang their praise.

He pressed his hands to the lid of the tomb and pushed with all the strength in his body. It slid away and fell to the ground, cracking in half from the impact. There was no body to greet him, no bones, no armor even. Just two weapons. A hammer and an ax.

Thor grabbed one in each hand and lifted them. Then his vision whited out and he fell.

Visions filled his mind. Memory, he realized. His memory.

The way the gods split among themselves and began to fight. How he had tried to stop it, tried to keep them united, tried to beat down the shadows of rage that overtook beings he’d known for thousands of years.

Then he lost. They gutted and killed him. Except. Right.

Loki had stolen his weapons, the last remnants of his soul. Thor had thought Loki had betrayed him, but Loki had saved him. Without these weapons he never could have been resurrected.

Thor opened his eyes and found himself on his knees in his own temple, electricity rolling over his skin.

Soft steps approached, and he turned his head to see Loki coming to him.

“Thor?” Loki said, his voice soft and uncertain.

Thor breathed and sent his weapons to their resting place safe in his own power, ready to be summoned again whenever he wanted. His heart beat in the clouds above, the rhythm playing out as rolling thunder. Loki’s eyes widened.

He stood and walked to Loki, wrapping his oldest friend in his arms. “You found me.”

Loki sobbed and clung to him, fingers digging into his reborn flesh. “I’ve searched for seven centuries.”

Thor pressed a kiss to Loki’s jaw, then another to his neck. “Thank you.”

They held each other, safe under the moon, safe in the temple, safe as their lips met and their bodies came together. Thor would never allow himself to be stolen from Loki ever again.

Every god who had betrayed them would know his wrath.

[past-present-future-cable]

Chapter 2

Thanos nearly exploded from the bed, the sheets stuck to his hulking frame by the cold sweat that drenched him. His chest was heaving and he felt like his heart was about to beat itself to pieces inside him. He turned to the side and saw that, contrary to what the last few hours had shown him, she was still next to him, still breathing and asleep. Well at least a little. She was stirring after the way he’d suddenly woken. Before she could ask him what was wrong when she saw the wild-eyed expression on his face, he scooped her into his massive arms and held her against him tight enough to feel her small heart beating against him.

She was alive, whole.

And worried sick. She had never seen him afraid before, never seen him disheveled unless he was injured. Even in his sleep he radiated strength and calm. She got her arms free and wrapped them around his neck, hugging him tightly and covering his face in kisses hoping to calm him. When he buried his face against the hot skin of her neck, inhaling so deeply that it made the way he was holding her a little painful, her worry ratcheted up to unheard of levels. This was not the Thanos she knew. What had happened? They'd only been asleep!

He'd had a nightmare. The words sounded silly even as he thought them. They were close but not correct. This was not something his own mind could have created with such painful detail and sensation. What he'd seen and felt it had been as real to his mind and his senses as if he'd actually lived it. The images were still fresh in his mind.

The planet was Titan, his home world. After he'd wiped it clean of life in a final bid to make Death accept him and his affections. However after serious thought there’d been a schism with how he viewed her and how he felt that left him no longer interested in her and leaving her behind even as she'd pleaded for him to stay. That’s where he'd found himself. On the barren skeleton of the world he'd once loved. Standing in front of him, all long toned legs and flowing dark hair and ample bosom was Death. Even then she'd looked beautiful. The way a poisonous creature did. She stood with a smile on her lips and one arm outstretched, a narrow finger aimed at his feet.

When he looked down everything went wrong and he bellowed until his throat ripped itself apart and his veins were straining under his skin from the rapid flow in them.

She laid there broken, all the blood in her small body decorating the dusty ground beneath and around her. A dark parody of a halo. His knees hit the ground hard enough to shake it and he scrambled to pull her to him, tears streaking down his face. His wailing sobs would not be stopped as he rocked her against him, begging for her to wake, to breathe. To tell him what had happened. Even though he knew his please were futile. His hands wrapped completely around her body and he saw that they lined up with the breaks and bruises and gouges in her body.

They matched his hands, her injuries matched his hands. Oh gods…

Lyra's broken neck creaked and cracked as she turned to look at him, all the way around in the wrong direction she looked at him like a prop from a horror movie. One of her eyes was gone, the bone showed through the skin and her cheek were ripped open down her face. Her other eye was dark with death and her lips were stained with her own blood. Her voice was a weak wet rasp and he lowered his head to hear her speak. He didn't question how it was happening.

"Why?"

Death walked over, the smile never leaving her lips and she placed her fingers under his chin and tilted his face up.

"Bend the knee last son of Titan and she lives."

That had been when he'd finally forced himself awake. He could still feel the chill of her skin on his and the tacky blood on his hands. His mind had not created that hellscape of a nightmare. It felt real. There was a familiar tug in the corner of his mind. He knew that feeling.

The mind stone had been the source.

He hugged the small human woman closer to his chest to assure himself again that she was there and that the stone wasn't producing this as well but the tug was gone. This was real.

"Thanos, look at me." There was no way she'd actually manipulated him away from her skin and to eye level. He moved at her touch with ease. Feeling her hands on him calmed his hectic heart. He met her gaze trying to bury the fear that would show. He couldn't let her see that, couldn't let her see him any less kingly than he already looked. "Thanos...please. What's going on?"

He sighed and shook his head, not wanting to have this conversation.

"I've been working too hard and it's catching up with me."

He hadn't lied. Thanos had been working himself to the bone lately trying to find the infinity stones again. He needed them. The universe was fracturing. Someone, unknown to him and to all of his spies and agents, had undone his work in stages. They'd brought everyone back but not given them all bodies. He had neglected to tell her that big however. The waves of energy that the fracture had caused were deflected easy by the Sanctuary class ship so its path through the cosmos was undisturbed. All he'd ever told her about what had kept his attention and had sent him walking about in the middle of the night with his head bowed and tension knotting his muscles was that he didn't want her to know about it.

It was his work, the fall out of his actions. Someone, someone powerful had been upset by what he'd done and was turning the clock back.

"It's giving you nightmares. What are you working on?" His response was to just shake his head and say nothing on the subject. Thanos knew that if he told her that Thor was back she would be terrified. When he'd wiped out half of all sentient life, the god had fought. He'd been a worthy adversary too and if the situation was vastly different Thanos would have loved the opportunity to spar with him. That was a dream. The reality had him almost dying from the ax he'd had wedged into his chest mere milometers from his heart.

Lyra had fallen over herself when Thanos had returned with a gaping wound that didn't seem like it would ever stop bleeding. The green dress she'd been wearing ended up permanently purple when she crashed into him, hands roaming his chest trying to stop the blood and demanded those who were near to help her save him. She hadn't slept more than an hour a day over the week it took for the injury to begin to close up. The next week she managed two hours most nights. She'd lost weight, gotten violently sick from the stress.

No.

There was no way he was telling her that the man who had almost killed him was back.

The sound that came out of her was exasperation and annoyance. They were supposed to be partners. Equals, Even if she didn't understand the very complicated details of it all. Lyra wanted to snap at him, be angry but she couldn't. Not when her ribs were still sore from the crushing hug he'd had her in. Not when the wild light had just started to die away. And she wasn't going to bring it up but his hands were shaking. It was barely noticeable but the tremor was there.

It wasn't just a dream, however this wasn't the time to press him on it. Not now.

"Okay. It's just stress." Thanos snorted softly and smiled some. She never let anything go and never that damn easy. She was firm in her resolve to get answers out of him and no amount of time or deflection on his part would stop her. Her stubbornness was one of the things he loved most about her. "Go rinse off. As much as I love you, I don't love how you smell right now." She made a show of gagging and fanning the air between the two of them.

"Oh it can't be that bad," she grinned and he felt all the fear and stress evaporate. She was good at that.

Lyra changed the sheets and put clean clothes out for Thanos before going back to sleep leaving Thanos alone in the bathroom under the harsh stream of the shower head. One hand pressed against the gnarled scar that marked the center of his chest. He had nearly died and it had been the first time he'd seen Death in a long time. He'd spent so much time avoiding her after he realized she was just using him. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. She hated him now and the things she hated, she delighted in torturing.

She'd been torturing him for years. Death had to be the one who'd returned Thor to the realm of the living. Thor and Tony Stark and the denizens of a planet of warriors who were second only to his own personal army. She had an army now and that nightmare could only be one thing: the opening salvo of war.

[iesnoth]

How do we cope?

Pre-Infinity War and mid-credits scene

Trigger warnings: mental illness, fighting, discussion of family death

Thor was used to his brother picking fights with him, but this way of doing it was new. Usually, Loki would pester him until Thor threw the first punch, or use illusions to lure him into an ambush, or just poison his mead. But, to his credit, the trickster god had kept his mischief to a minimum onboard the Statesman.

So, in a weird way, Thor was almost relieved when the frazzled attendant had come to inform him that the bubble had burst: Loki was throwing a tantrum in their shared quarters.

The clangs and booms of Loki’s destruction echoed down the angular arches of the hall as Thor approached at a long, firm stride. He’d ordered all the attendants and loiterers out of all the adjoining hallways and rooms. He wasn’t sure what kind of Loki he would be facing off against, and though he hoped it wouldn’t come to violence, wanted to avoid civilian casualties. He peered through the foot-wide gap between the double doors, and a chair and a tray of crystal tumblers hurtled past. Thor cursed under his breath. He should have suspected something was amiss when his brother hadn’t shown up for the weekly council meeting. Loki had been practically attached to Thor's hip unless he ordered his younger sibling to find something more useful to do, but Thor assumed the trickster had finally bored of following him around.

The crashing stopped. Thor guessed Loki heard him, and stepped out from his hiding place.

“Brother--”

He was cut off when Loki slammed into him, forearm to Thor’s neck, pinning the god of thunder to the door. Thor retaliated through muscle memory and served Loki a flat-palmed blow to the chest, thrusting him backward. Loki also recovered quickly and threw a trio of eight-inch knives toward Thor’s head. Thor ducked behind a pillar for cover.

“By Hel itself, Loki!” Thor yelled around the metal column. He grunted as a sofa knocked him from behind the pillar, but he plucked it from the air and used it to absorb still more knives. “If you wanted to spar, you could have just asked!”

Loki looked disheveled and manic. Purple bags rimmed his eyes from lack of sleep, his hair hung in limp tangles, and his jaw jutted forward the way it did when he was particularly bloodthirsty. He was barefoot and was without the cape he wore like a security blanket. Thor hadn’t seen Loki so undone since-- since their mother died.

What was wrong with him? Was he sick and hallucinating some unseen foe? Was he possessed by something? Or perhaps, Thor thought, his nostrils flaring, Loki has felt this way inside for a long time, and I just never noticed.

He kicked the sofa into Loki, knocking him to the ground. Thor was on him in an instant, pulling him to his feet. He held his face with one hand to make his brother meet his eye. “What’s wrong, Loki?”

Loki snarled, and Thor braced himself. He didn’t have enough hands to restrain Loki’s arms as well, and to be honest, if Loki needed to stab him, he didn’t mind. It had been a while since Thor had felt any intense emotion.

But Loki didn’t stab him. His green eyes held Thor’s blue one, flicked over to the leather eye patch, then back to the blue. His brows turning up and he cried out through gritted teeth.

“I’m feeling, brother,” he spat. “Everything you’re not. Everything you suppressed.” He gripped the side of Thor’s head. “And I want you to feel it too.”

Thor frowned. “What do you mean?”

“’What do I mean?’ Are you an idiot?” Loki shook him. “Our mother died. Your hammer was taken from you and destroyed. Odin is gone. The Warriors Three-- some of your best friends-- were brutally murdered by your sister, not to mention the hundreds of Asgardians she slaughtered.” Thor started to turn his head, but Loki fisted his hand in Thor’s hair, holding him in place. “Your hair was cut, your eye gouged out, you even lost your side-human, Jane. And after all this, you had to make the hardest decision any ruler would have to make and destroyed your planet to save your race--” Loki released him, arms slack at his sides “--and you haven’t shed a single tear.” He turned away, violently kicking a metal trash can so it banged harshly against the wall. “But both times I ‘died’, you mourned for me.”

Thor studied the now dented trash can, then the floor at his feet, then lifted his gaze to squint at his brother. “So you want me to-- cry?”

Loki shrugged. “To cry, to scream, to fight--”

“You want me to throw a tantrum, like you.”

Loki strode back to Thor, nose-to-nose with him as he yelled, “I want you to throw a tantrum AT ME!” When Thor’s confused frown only deepened, Loki sighed. “You’re keeping all these emotions locked inside, but in typical Thor fashion, you’re not very good at it. Instead, they’re festering inside you, poisoning you, oozing out of you like a snail’s trail.” He punched Thor half-heartedly in the chest. “And, in typical Loki fashion, I keep stepping in it.”

Loki backed up to sit on the unmade king-sized bed, his forehead in his hands. Thor stayed where he was, unsure if Loki would attack again, unsure if he wanted to stick around for the rest of this conversation. But Loki was being vulnerable with him, something that Loki hadn’t done by choice in recent memory. So he stayed, staring at his brother, his weight on his heels in case he needed to bolt for the door.

“Remember when we were children?” Loki murmured.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Loki shot him a withering glance. “Whenever you would get caught doing something wrong, or a pet died, or something tragic happened you couldn’t comprehend, you would take it out on me.” He laughed once, dropping his hands to his lap. “I hated it at the time, of course. But you were always so relaxed after venting on me. I thought you were weak for needing to express your emotions, but I was secretly--” he pursed his lips and groaned, as if the words pained him to say, “--I was secretly glad you needed me to cope.”

Thor sighed. So this was all about Loki, after all. He rocked forward on his feet and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

But Loki wasn’t finished. “When I ‘died’, I took joy in that you might be in pain. I thought you would break without me there to help you through it. But you didn’t, you came out stronger, because you had a support system. Jane, Odin, Hogan, Fandral, Volstagg, Sif, Heimdall, the Avengers--” he swallowed “--Mother. Especially Mother. They helped you through loss and built you up stronger than before.”

He looked over at Thor, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “But now, they are gone. I’m the only one left. Me, the false brother who’s hurt and betrayed you, whom you’ve forgiven too many times and don’t trust. So you think you don’t have any choice but to carry your burdens alone. You walk around with a smile like your whole world hasn’t been ruined ten times over, when the proof of it is on your face, right next to your nose.” Thor shook his head and pushed against the bed, ready to stand, but Loki caught his hand.

“Asgard needs a strong king, and suppressing your pain is weakening you, Thor. So I’m, you know--” he let go of Thor’s hand to hold his own, twiddling his thumbs. “--here. To help.”

Thor smiled. “Loki--”

“Don’t smile like that!” his brother snapped. “Don’t look at me with that eye patch on your face and smile like I’m the one that’s pitiful.”

Thor smiled wider, then yelped when Loki snatched a decanter from the nightstand and hit him with it.

“So basically, what you’re saying is,” Thor said between blows, “You’re here to listen if I need a shoulder to cry on.”

The blows came faster. “You weren’t even listening to me!” Loki protested.

“But your original plan,” Thor persisted, confiscating the decanter, “was to lure me into a fight, and then what? By the end I’d be miraculously healed of my depression and you’d be covered in bruises? Can you say ‘masochist?’”

Loki growled in frustration. “Well, when you put it that way--”

“It wouldn’t have worked.”

Loki frowned at Thor’s tight, resigned smile, and waited for the explanation.

“I know this is hard for you to accept, Loki, but I’m not the same as I was when we were children.” He tilted his head back to the high ceiling. “I was bloodthirsty and proud, reckless beyond excuse. You helped show me that.”

Loki blinked, his brow relaxing.

“But you’re right,” Thor continued, “I am weak. It’s been harder for me to concentrate, I’ve felt emotionally numb, and I double-think every decision I make. I hate myself for it. And you’re right that I need a support system to reestablish some sense of normalcy-- relative normalcy-- in my life.” He elbowed his brother. “But not a punching bag.”

“Well, if you ever need--” Loki swallowed, avoiding eye-contact, “--need someone to talk to, I would be honored to listen, and promise not to make light of the situation.”

Thor wrapped a strong arm around Loki’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight side-hug.

“And if you ever need to vent your vexations, brother,” he said, “I’d be willing to let you stab me. I don’t really mind.”

Loki tipped his head back and groaned. “Now that you’ve given me permission, it won’t be nearly as fun.”

For the first time in a long time, Thor genuinely laughed until he cried.

In the end, the best therapy Loki could give Thor is allowing him to act like an older brother. Thanks for reading.

[thorkidumpster]

Saaame I have so many WIPs. Tell me about your lengthiest one? Gimme a sneak peak of your favourite part and maybe what you think has you stuck.

sneak peek? here, just have the whole goddamn thing. it’s only a little over 1.3k words long.

Thelighthouse has always been here, perched on the rocky cliff.

ForThor, the lighthouse may well have been created when the gods torethe sky from the earth and filled the chasm left behind with churninggrey seas. The stone had already been worn to marble smoothness whenhe arrived as a boy, lead there by the fairies once he grew too oldto play their hidden midsummer games.

Sohe climbed the tired, sagging steps to the top, lit his fire, andwarned the ships of the dangers—both on land and below the waves.

Shipswould appear hazy on the horizon, all rotten wood and crewed by wretchedsouls. As the ships drifted closer, they would fade away, leavingonly the wails of the men who had died upon those rocks.

Themermaids watched with merciless eyes, waiting for a live crew to gnawon—when they finished with a wreck, no bones nor shiny bobblesremained. There were times they turned their attentions to Thor andtried to Sing time down from his tower, but he had been touched byfairy magic. He could hear the unholy screeching under their Songs,the desperation for marrow to suck. They longed for the flesh of men,and grew desperate on their lean diet of small fish and whateverweighty washed ashore from the deep dark.

[keep reading]

Theywatch him from the rocks with black void eyes, mouths a jagged cut ofsharp teeth set in flat, scaled faces. Women, once, and beautiful asall people are—until they were tossed into the merciless sea assacrifice, their deaths a sailors' plea for calm seas and passingstorms.

Butthe sea embraced these lost wives and daughters, and shaped theirbodies with gentle currents. More fish now than woman, a predator andsister to the sea.

Thisparticular bed of mermaids remained at behest of their only lover.The water sings to them, provides for them, and in the pull of themoon-tide, they hear its words. They would not stray through aburning light and its keeper's interference in their hunt withoutorders.

Forthe most part, he avoids them and they do not try overly hard to killhim.

Butthey are a fair barometer for the ocean's health, so when Thor wakesin the dusky hours of the night to them screaming in fear, theirknife-teeth and unclosing lips trying to form words he cannotunderstand, Thor springs from bed, snatches an old fish-knife fromthe table, and dashes to the coast with no care for clothes.

Thewailing grows even louder as he approaches—the mermaids are tearingat something with their hands, a lump of flesh just too far onto theshore for them to snatch. A dead animal, Thor assumes, until the lumpgives a wheezing scream of its own.

Aman.

Thorsprints down to the huddled, shuddering man. The mermaids snap theirteeth at him, spitting more words, but when he brandishes his daggerat them, they scatter back into the water.

Hecrouches down by the man, equally as naked as he. There are deepgouges on his chest like the raking of nails, and Thor can see thewhite of bone peeking through the red, torn skin. The man's—no,boy's, because the lad looks no older than his twentieth year—hisface is swollen and dark as the horizon from bruises.

Thorcarefully slides his arms under the boy's knees and around hisshoulders and lifts him, mindful of the dispatched hip. The boy criesfrom the jarring, a pitiful bubble of a sob, but Thor pays littleattention. He must be moved, and so Thor is moving him.

Thereis a little shack attached to the light's tower; only one room foreating and sleeping and cooking, but that is all Thor needs. All hehas ever needed. He values his solitude. But having no better placeto set the boy, Thor lays him out on his bed, then he gets to work.

Watermust be boiled, needles sterilized, clothes gathered, herb crushed,and poultices made. But first, that hip.

Thorrolls his shoulders. “This is going to hurt like a bastard,” hetells the boy, who moans at his words. His eyes are a haze of fear,but shock is settling in—good, then he will not remember the pain.

Thorangles the boy's injured leg at an angle and presses his weight ontoit, hard, harder—ignoring the boy's pleas—until he feels the hiprealign properly. The boy gives a shuddering gasp, bloody tearsleaking from his eyes.

“Boy,that was only the beginning,” Thor sighs. He has nothing on hand toserve as an anesthetic. “You best just go on and pass out now.”

Buthe doesn't. The boy remains awake and screaming through the longhours of the night.

It'snot until the sun burns over the ocean line that the boy sleeps. Heis stitched, patched, and mended to the best of Thor's abilities andsupplies. Thor considers a trip into town—if the smatteringcollection of faded cabin and sad, dilapidated merchant stalls couldbe considered a town and not just human stubbornness. It was a waystrek inland, though, a journey that eats several hours of the day andreturns him in time for supper. Thor hesitates to leave the boy alonefor that long. It'd be faster if he had a car, but he's neverbothered with machines and metal, not after kissing the world ofmagic.

Sohe sits at his lonely table for one and waits, whittling bits of woodinto carvings of the fairies that raised him, the parents he couldbarely remember, and selkies with their furred coat cast over humanshoulders.

Everynow and then, the boy stirs. His eyes will flicker, useless, behindtheir lids and his chapped, gouged lips will part with a whine.

Buteven as Thor watches, the bruises darken, then turn to a faint blue.Whatever the boy is, he is not human.

Justfor that, Thor has a half mind to throw him back to the sea.

Theboy sleeps for another day and a half.

Thorsnoozes upright in his dining chair, head dropping down to the armscrossed over his chest. He passes the time examining the boy'shealing wounds—all recovering at a remarkable speed, except for theslices along his ribs. Thor occasionally slathers more herb pasteonto his thin chest, interest piqued as to why only those seem to beclosing at a human rate.

It'snot until Thor cooks his dinner at the end of the second day does theboy wake properly.

“Who?”The boy whispers—his eyes are still half-closed and murky from thefever that comes and goes.

Thorscratches at his bristled beard. “Better question'd be 'where', boy.”The rabbit he's searing hisses in the pan and a fat dollop of butterleaps out. “But name's Thor.”

Theboy's nose twitches at the smell, but for good or ill, Thor can'ttell. “And... where?”

“Lighthouseon Gråstrand.”

“...okay,”The boy says, his voice scratchy and parched sounding.

Thorhums and fills him up a glass of water. The boy's hand is too weak tograb the cup steadily, so Thor must tilt his head and raise the rimto his lips for him. The boy drains the cup, sputtering as his drythroat fights the liquid.

WhenThor lowers the empty cup, the boy's doe eyes seem brighter.Satisfied, Thor turns his back to return to his rabbit.

“Don'tyou want to know my name?” The boy asks, almost offended.

Thorlifts a shoulder. “Don't rightly care. But if you must, go on.”

“Myname is Loki,” he replies.

“Soundslike a fine name,” Thor says, offhand. He plates his rabbit andfries slices of tubers in the drippings of fat and butter leftbehind.

Lokigroans as he shifts in the bed, settling into a more comfortableposition. “That smells good.”

“Youain't getting any. Not until I'm sure you won't puke, boy.”

“Loki.”

“S'whatI said.”

as for where i’m stuck... i mostly struggle with plotting without someone acting as a soundboard. it’s dumb, i know XD so this is as far as i’ve gotten on my own. it’s about as far as i ever get, unless i’m just writing porn.