#thor x black oc

[nobitchs-world]

Me after explaining the multiverse of different people and characters where I have different ocs in my head to my sisters

[poisonousmoonfics]

Chapter II: Sombra witch

tw: mentions of alcohol

As the Quinjet touched down on the landing pad atop the Avengers Tower, the team emerged, weary but victorious, from their latest mission. Lola stood waiting at the entrance, flanked by Agent Hill, her eyes bright with anticipation as she greeted the returning heroes.

"Welcome back, Avengers," Lola said with a warm smile, her voice tinged with relief. "How did the mission go?"

“How do you think?,” Clint manages to reply sarcastically while being taken by Dr. Cho to have his wounds tended to.

“I’ll pray for you Clint!,” Lola shouts jokingly.

Steve, his suit slightly scuffed from battle, stepped forward, his expression grave. “Mission was a success," he replied. "We managed to retrieve Loki's scepter from the HYDRA base in Sokovia.” Thor, his hammer slung across his back, nodded in agreement.

“What about Strucker?,” the girl questioned.

"Strucker's in NATO custody," Agent Maria Hill said, approaching the team.

"And like you realized, we ran into some trouble with two enhanced individuals," she said, her voice tight with frustration.

At the mention of the word ‘enhanced', Lola's curiosity was piqued. “Do you have any information abut them?" she asked, her eyes widening with interest.

Agent Hill stepped forward once again, a tablet in hand, and started to read from the files. “Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” she began, her voice steady. “Twins. Orphaned at ten when a shell collapsed their apartment building. Sokovia's had a rough history."

“Their abilities?”, questions Steve with arms crossed.

"He's got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. Her thing is neural electric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation.”, Agent Hill explained the twins’ powers. Lola listened intently. She glanced at Steve who had a clueless expression at the agent’s words.

"He's fast and she's weird.”, Lola rephrases Hill’s statement so he can understand. He nods intrigued.

As Agent Hill continued to recount the twins' origins and abilities, Lola listened intently, her mind whirling with questions. These new adversaries presented a formidable challenge for the Avengers, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the thought of facing them in battle.

“They're probably going to show up again, guys.”, Lola points out, a concerned sight escaping her lips.

"Agreed. File says they volunteered for Strucker's experiments. It's nuts.”,

"Yes, what madman would voluntarily surrender himself to an unknown power to avenge his family?”, Lola playfully mentions.

"Right. And what kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?”, adds Steve.

Agent Hill rolls her eyes. “Damn, I’m sorry. Didn't mean to offend everyone.”

“All good,” Steve says. “And Lola is right. We need to keep an eye on them."

As Agent Hill continued to recount the twins’ files and other details of the previous mission, to Steve and Natasha, Lola could accept that this new adversaries presented a formidable challenge for the team, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the thought of the possibility facing them in battle. The twins abilities seemed incredibly volatile.

Nonetheless she was curious and strangely felt a sense of empathy for them both. Maybe it was because they were young like her. Perhaps she saw resemblance in the twins initial motives to acquire more power; loss, pain and the sense of justice. She took a look at the pictures of the Maximoff's shown on the projection of Hill’s tablet. Again, feeling drawn to something about the enhanced.

Lola suddenly didn’t feel the presence of her follow teammates she she snapped out her thoughts and teleported to the lab. She emerged in the room from the shadows making Bruce slightly jump from the scare.

“For fucks sake, Lola!”, cusses the doctor’s as he composes himself.

The girl laughs at him but directs an apologetic look. “Sorry. How’s he doing?", she asks referring to Clint.

"Oh, unfortunately, he's still Barton.”, Tony jokes.

Lola covers her mouth in fake shock. “That's terrible!”, she replies teasing. Clint rolls his eyes at his teammates comments.

“He's fine. He's just thirsty.”, tells the billionaire without concern. “Alright. Look alive, JARVIS. It's play time. We've only got a couple days with this joystick so let's make the most of it. Update me on the structural and compositional analysis.”, Tony commands while walking over to the computers.

JARVIS begins his task, then proceeds to explain the results of his research. “The scepter is alien. The jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside. Something powerful. Like a computer. I believe I'm deciphering code.” Tony continues to work along the AI and Lola walks closer to Dr. Cho as she tends to Clint’s wounds.

“You sure he's going to be okay? Pretending to need this guy really brings the team together.”, the black-haired girl questions with slight concern.

“There's no possibility of deterioration. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't know they're bonding with simulacrum.”, clarifies the woman.

“She's creating tissue.”, Bruce tells Lola, she nods understandingly.

“I'm gonna be made of plastic.”, Clint reproaches.

Dr. Cho contradicts him. “You'll be made of you, Mr. Barton. Your own girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference.”

“Well, I don't have a girlfriend.”, he answers.

Lola laughs. “That can't any of us fix.” The other three scientists agree with her mocking Clint.

“This is the next thing, Tony.”, says Cho referring to the new technology. “Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust.”

“Well, that is exactly the plan.”, he agrees. “And Helen, I expect to see you at the party on Saturday.”

“Unlike you, I don't have a lot of time for parties.”, the woman tells him responsibly.

Lola slightly nudges the doctor. “Come on Helen, it will be fun!”, she says trying to convince her.

Cho hesitates a moment before asking: “Will Thor be there?”

“Oh, he will.”, Lola confirms with certainty.

Bruce notices Tony checking some analysis and plans on the computer, so he approaches the man. “What's the matter?” he asks.

“Well, the scepter. You see, we were wondering how Strucker got so inventive.”, Tony begins to narrate. "So, I've been analyzing the gem inside-- You may recognize,” he brings up a 3D image of Jarvis's consciousness.

“Jarvis...”, Bruce says.

Tony nods and then he brings up another 3D image of what’s inside the scepter “Meet the competition.”

Bruce eyes widened and an amazed expression was written al over his face. “It's beautiful!”, he exclaims. Lola walks up to them, also with an astonished expression.

"It looks like it's thinking. I mean this could be a... it's not a human mind, it...”, Bruce tries to form words but his mind was erratic. “I mean, look at this! They're like neurons firing.”, he exclaims exited.

Tony continues to explain. “Down in Strucker's lab I saw some fairly advanced robotics work. I gotta guess he was knocking on a very particular door.”

“Artificial intelligence.”, Bruce catches up to Tony’s superstition.

"This could be it, Bruce. This could be the key to creating Ultron.”, the billionaire tells thrilled.

Lola snaps out of her trance. She looks up at him with a raised brow “I thought Ultron was a fantasy, Tony.”

The man shakes his head and replies “Yesterday it was. If we can harness this power, apply it to my Iron Legion protocol.”

“That's a mad-sized if.”, she comments concerned about Tony’s ambition

“Our job is ‘if’.”, he justifies. “What if next time aliens roll up to the club, and they will, they couldn't get past the bouncer?”

“The only people threatening the planet would be people?”, Bruce ask not aware of being sure of what Tony is implying.

“I want to apply this to the Ultron program. But JARVIS can't download a data schematic this dense. We can only do it while we have the scepter here, that's three days, give me three days.”, Tony pleads.

Bruce crosses his arm and gives him a stern look. “So you're going for artificial intelligence and you don't want to tell the rest of the team.”

“Right. That's right, you know why, because we don't have time for a city hall debate. I don't want to hear the "man was not meant to meddle" medley.”, Tony says. “I see a suit of armor around the world.”

Lola shakes her head in disappointment at Tonys words. “The more you try to justify your experiment, the more I want to call Steve to organize one of his boring team meetings.”, she threatens.

Bruce lets up a deep sigh. “She right. Sounds like a cold world, Tony.”, he tries to convince him to forget his plan.

“I've seen colder. This one, this very vulnerable blue one? It needs Ultron.” Tony answers firmly. “Peace in our time.”

The following Saturday, Avengers Tower buzzed with laughter and conversation as the team and their friends enjoyed a rare moment of relaxation. Lola stood by the window, watching the city lights twinkle below. She turned around, getting a glimpse of the team having fun. Her mind struck peace all over her body, and her lips formed a warm smile. She marveled at how different her life had become since joining the team and how she could never have imagined finding a new family.

In the middle of the room, Rhodey animatedly recounted one of his War Machine adventures. “Well, you know, the suit can take the weight, right? So, I take the tank, fly it right up to the General’s palace, drop it at his feet, and I’m like, ‘Boom! You looking for this?’” Rhodes paused, waiting for the reaction. Tony and Thor just stared at him blankly. “Boom! Are you looking… Why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else, that story kills.”

“That’s the whole story?” Thor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s a War Machine story,” Rhodey answered proudly.

“Well, it’s very good then,” Thor said, laughing heartily. “It’s impressive.”

Lola joined them, chuckling softly. “Quality save,” she replied to Thor. Rhodey rolled his eyes.

Maria Hill also joined them. “So, no Pepper? She’s not coming? What about Jane?”

Both men shook their heads in denial.

"Where are the ladies, gentlemen?” Maria teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Miss Potts has a company to run,” Tony explained, a touch of pride in his voice.

Thor nodded. “Yes, I’m not even sure what country Jane’s in. Her work on the convergence has made her the world’s foremost astronomer,” he bragged.

“And the company that Pepper runs is the largest tech conglomerate on Earth. It’s exciting,” Tony added, a grin spreading across his face.

“There’s even talk of Jane getting a... um, uh...” Thor struggled to remember.

“Nobel Prize, Thor,” Lola helped him.

“Yeah! A Nobel Prize,” Thor said proudly.

“Yeah, they must be busy because they’d hate missing you guys get together,” Maria mock coughed. “Testosterone! Oh, excuse me.”

Rhodes chuckled. “Want a lozenge?”

Maria nodded, walking away with Rhodes.

“What about you, Lady Lola?” Thor asked. “No special gentleman in your life?” the girl shifted uncomfortably.

She had zero dating experience. She hadn’t even had a crush in her 22 years. She felt like a complete virgin in every sense of the word. But how could people blame her? She didn’t care about romantic relationships when she was a kid and then was held captive for the rest of her teenage years. The closest to a committed relationship she’d ever was with the scientists in the HYDRA labs. Besides, now that she was older, she never cared about boyfriends either, and finding a balance between love and saving people was something she never thought about. And she’d probably scare the first man who ever decided to approach her anyway, so she was kind of a lost case in that area.

“What? No, no...” she murmured nervously. “I’ve never dated anyone before.” Thor and Tony blinked in genuine surprise. The three didn’t speak for a few moments, making Lola want to die of embarrassment.

Tony finally broke the silence. “You’re still too young for boyfriends anyway.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed.

“It’s not because I don’t have options!” Thor and Tony raised their eyebrows doubtfully. Lola’s cheeks turned red as she tried to justify her loneliness awkwardly. “No, no, no... It’s mainly because of work. Yup. You guys know, being an Avenger is time-consuming. So yeah, no boyfriend.”

“Mhm, I see. None of them must be worthy!” Thor exclaimed with disappointment.

“I agree with Goldilocks. And don’t worry, kid. You’re not missing out on anything. Men suck!” Tony exclaimed, and Thor nodded in confirmation. Lola chuckled at the protectiveness of her teammates and agreed.

At the bar, Natasha was pouring a drink when Bruce approached, his usual awkwardness softened by the friendly atmosphere. They started to chat, and Lola noticed Natasha’s flirting. She always saw the tension between the two heroes. But Lola was sure that neither of them acted on their feelings either out of professionalism, fear of rejection, or because they feared hurting each other.

After a few minutes of conversation, Natasha walked away, and Lola gravitated towards her. “It’s nice,” she commented, nodding towards Bruce.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Natasha raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“You and Bruce,” Lola insisted.

“Work comes first,” Natasha mentioned firmly but with a sad smile creeping on her face.

“I think it’s okay. You guys aren't breaking any laws,” Lola showed her support. “Like me, you’re not the most... open person in the world. But with him, you seem very relaxed,” she mentioned genuinely, happy for her friend.

“You know I like to flirt,” the spy replied nonchalantly.

“I’ve seen you flirt, Nat. This isn’t just that.” Lola paused. “Look, I just think you should talk things out. You don’t want to wait till it’s too late. You both deserve love,” she suggested calmly.

“We’ll see,” the spy said. “You give good relationship advice for someone who hasn’t even given her first kiss."

Lola glares at Natasha offended. “What’s up with you guys reminding me that I’m single as fuck?” she reproached walking off. Natasha just laughed at the girl.

Later, as the party wound down, only the Avengers, Dr. Cho, Maria Hill, and Lola remained. Thor’s hammer sat on the table between them.

“But it’s a trick!” Clint insisted, pointing at the hammer.

“Oh, no. It’s much more than that,” Thor replied.

“Uh, ‘Whosoever be he worthy shall have the power!’ Whatever man! It’s a trick.”, mocked the archer. 

“Well please, be my guest,” Thor said, gesturing to the hammer.

Tony grinned. “Come on.”

“Really?” Clint asked, getting up.

“Oh, this is gonna be beautiful,” Lola said, settling in for the show.

“Clint, you’ve had a tough week, we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up,” Tony joked, making the others laugh.

“You know I’ve seen this before, right?” Clint said, grabbing Thor’s hammer and failing to lift it. “I still don’t know how you do it.”

“Smell the silent judgment?” Tony teased.

“Please, Stark, by all means,” Clint retorted.

Tony got up. “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge.” Tony said, grasping the hammer. “It’s physics,” Tony said, grasping the hammer. “So, if I lift it, I... I then rule Asgard?” Tony asked.

“Yes, of course,” Thor replied.

“I will be re-instituting Prima Nocta,” Tony quipped, trying to lift the hammer but failing. “I’ll be right back.” Wearing his armored hand, he tried again and failed.

Both Tony and Rhodey then tried together, each wearing their armored hands.

“Are you even pulling?” Tony asked.

“Are you on my team?” Rhodes countered.

“Alright, let’s go!” they both pulled as hard as they could but to no avail.

Bruce then tried, pretending to change into the Hulk and roaring, causing everyone to look at him warily or grin.

“Widow?” Tony asked Natasha.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not a question I need answered,” she replied.

“Lady Sombra*?”, Thor asked Lola. 

“I'll just lift the scythe,” Lola passed the challenge.

“All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king, but it’s rigged,” Tony said.

“You bet your ass,” Clint agreed.

“Steve, he said a bad language word,” Maria teased.

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve asked Tony.

“The handle’s imprinted, right? Like a security code. ‘Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints’ is, I think, the literal translation?”

“Yes, well that’s, uh, that’s a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one,” Thor said, getting up and lifting his hammer easily. “You’re all not worthy.” There was a chorus of disagreement from the others.

A loud screeching noise, like microphone feedback, suddenly filled the room. Everyone covered their ears. As the noise faded, Tony pulled out his device. One of the Iron Legion suits, heavily damaged and housing Ultron’s consciousness, stumbled into the room.

“Worthy... No, how could you be worthy? You’re all killers,” Ultron said, his voice a haunting mix of distortion and clarity.

“Stark,” Steve called, alerting Tony.

“JARVIS,” Tony called, tapping his device in vain.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep. Or... I was a-dream?” Ultron continued, his voice dripping with malice.

“Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit,” Tony said, frustration seeping into his tone.

“There was a terrible noise... and I was tangled in... in... strings. Had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy,” Ultron said, his head jerking unnaturally.

“You killed someone?” Lola asked with a stern voice. Although she was firm in front of the android, inside she was confused. How could she not sense the death of someone in the building?

“Wouldn’t have been my first call. But, down in the real world we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor demanded, his eyes narrowing.

Ultron replayed a recording of Tony’s voice: “I see a suit of armor around the world.”

“Ultron...” Bruce says, stepping forward.

“In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

“What mission?” Natasha asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Peace in our time,” Ultron declared.

Abruptly the walls exploded, and several Iron Legion bots barged into the room. They began attacking the team, who all went on the defensive. Lola, startled by the sudden chaos, quickly assessed the situation, and joined the fray.

Bruce climbed over the bar to avoid fire from the bots. Natasha grabbed him and dragged him down, and he landed on top of her.

“Sorry!” Bruce said, his face inches from hers.

“Don’t turn green!” Natasha warned, her voice urgent.

“I won’t!” Bruce replied, his breath quickening.

The Avengers continued fighting the bots. Lola, using her agility and abilities, dodged the bot's attack and destroyed them. 

One of the Iron Legion bots lunged at Steve, who deftly dodged and slammed his shield into it, causing it to short-circuit and collapse. “We need to contain them!” he shouted, directing the team.

Thor swung his hammer, sending bots flying in all directions. “They’re endless!” he roared. 

Lola emerged from the shadows beside him. “Don’t worry. So is death,” she mentioned and continued to help him destroy the robots.

Tony, still tapping furiously on his device, growled in frustration. “JARVIS, do you copy? JARVIS!”

Ultron, amidst the chaos, laughed maniacally. “This is the end, the end of the path I started us on.”

“Everything has an end,” Lola shot back, as she ripped a bot from the inside with her powers. Seeing an opportunity, she shouted, “Tony, if we can hack into one of them, we might be able to shut them all down!”

Tony nodded, his eyes sharp. “Rhodey, cover me!” He sprinted toward a fallen bot, dodging blasts, and debris.

Rhodey, back in action, provided cover fire, his War Machine suit roaring to life. “On it!”

As Tony worked, Ultron’s voice echoed. “I know it is dramatic. I'm sorry, I know you mean well! You just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve?”, The android picks up one of the dismembered Iron Legion bots. "With these? These puppets?” he crushes the Iron Legion bot's head. “There's only one path to peace: The Avengers' extinction.”

“Shut up party pooper!”, Thor exclaimed resented. He gets flustered and throws his hammer, shattering Ultron’s body. 

As the dust settled, Lola looked around at her teammates. They were bruised and battered, no one was really prepared for such a fight. 

“Well, that was unexpected.”, Tony chimed in. 

"Sometimes I forget it's always like this with you, guys.”, Lola said as she dusted off her dress. 

*sombra (Spanish) = shadow

[goddess-mixmi]

King Killmonger and his Queen Tempest🖤✨

As mentioned before Imani had been in small relationships with Erik Stevens before she realized Bucky had feelings for her. Both Erik and Imani had quite a lot of similarities, dead parents, being seen as outsiders despite being Wakandan, and wanting to give aid to people who look like them that can’t protect themselves. Imani didn’t think she was capable of love until she met him, he made her fell less alone.

Erik himself had a bit of a idolizing crush on her when she was first seen as Tempest and now he had a chance to be with him despite her trying to kill him at first for defeating T’Challa. Now she definitely could’ve held her own against him if her superpowers weren’t being restricted and he could’ve felt with her but he didn’t. He wanted her and she wanted him so he decided he’d marry her once everything was set in place. Imani almost got through to him about his motives being quite intense and promised to help the country that raised her and more when she becomes queen but it all went downhill in the end. And before he died he said he truly liked her, even left her with two kids of her own ( and depression too😭)

[lovemomhatepolice]

mcu masterlist

navigation taglist requests

bucky barnes

steve rogers

tony stark

loki laufeyson

thor odinson

black widow

A/N: please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

I apologize in advance to everyone for so much expansion in the masterlists, but it will be so much easier for me and you to catch up, once I get it all to the state I want - I promise

[worksxofxmyxmind]

Steve Rogers is the werewolf Bucky Barnes is the orc Thor is the dragon. And Loki is the werewolf.

Now reread them with this in mind for each

Monster bfs and their reaction to you getting hurt by little inconsequential things that you react to in pain at first but then they wildly overexaggerate.

Werewolf bf would hear you whimper and come running to find you. He sees you have a splinter and he’s whining and whimpering at the irritated skin on your finger. With his claws he carefully gets it out of you before licking it and nuzzling into your palm. Before you can even argue he’s saying you’re too hurt to do anything else today and brings you into the bed for cuddles.

Vampire bf smells you before he hears you cry out in pain. In a flash he’s by your side, eyes wild as he looks over you. When he sees the small cut on your leg his heart lurches, even when you say it looks worse than it is. He falls to his knees before you, his mind a cloud of worry and hunger. He laps at your cut, slowly licking the wound to reveal it in its entirety. Despite the way his veins hum with the taste of your blood his love for you is more pressing and so he runs to grab your frequently used roll of gauze and patches you up.

Dragon bf has loved having you in his cave and among his hoard. You’re his most treasured possession after all so there is no where else that you belong except by his side. But when you stumble and slide down a mountain of gold, hitting your head on an old crown, your bf cares no longer for any of his treasures besides you. Despite your protests he moves all of his treasure to the back of the cave before filling the rest of it with the fluffiest pillows and the softest blankets. Making sure that if you ever fall again it will only be met with comfort.

Orc bf who always displayed his weapon collection with pride. But he comes rushing over as soon as he hears you yelp, only to discover you ended up pricking yourself on the sharp spikes of one of his clubs. You try to assure him that you’re fine and it just surprised you. But when you come home the next day you see them nowhere to be found. Ready to give your bf a firm talking to, he directs your gaze upwards where he’s displayed his weapons much higher up now to not risk you getting hurt. He stubbornly refuses to move them back down when you talk to him and there’s no way you can reach or even carry them to put them back. Your orc bf explains that it’s worth them being harder to see so long as you’re safe.

God, there are so many more I could do but I didn’t want to make this too long.

[ellswritings]

It’s the same OC as the love interest, she just dates them at different times. It starts with Iron Man 2 and I haven’t decided when to end it. Lmk if you guys wanna see it 🫶🫶

[awritessomething]

I have absolutely no ideas for writing whatsoever pleaseplease leave requests!!! Smut, angst, fluff, whatever y’all want I can probably do.

Ill write for these people and probably more that I forgot (all male character x fem!reader) :

Formula 1:

Max Verstappen

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Carlos Sainz

Daniel Riccardo

Mick Schumacher

Franco Colapinto

Liam Lawson

Ollie Bearman

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Tony Stark

Thor

Deadpool

Steve Rogers

Spiderman (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, Miguel O'hara)

Harry Osborn (James Franco)

Wolverine (X-Men movies)

Cyclops (X-Men movies)

Charles Xavier (James McAvoy)

Call of Duty

Keegan Russ

Simon "Ghost" Riley

König

Phillip Graves

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Outer Banks: (pls no spoilers s4 hasnt been watched yet)

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

John B. Routledge

Ward Cameron

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

Draco malfoy

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Regulus Black

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

Sirius Black

Lorenzo Berkshire

Oliver Wood

The Walking Dead:

Glenn Rhee

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Negan Smith

Sports:

Joao Felix

Jude Bellingham

Brock Purdy

Joe Burrow

Leon Draisaitl

Jack Hughes

Vince Dunn

Mitch Marner

Connor Bedard

Wayne Gretzky (young)

Miscallaneous:

Jack Champion (Ethan Landry)

Patrick Bateman

Batman (Christian Bale)

Johnathan Crane

Finnick Odair

Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark, Mike Schmidt, Sean Anderson, Clapton Davis)

Rodrick Heffley

Tristan Dugray

Dylan O'brien

Bellamy Blake

Patrick Dempsey (Derek Shepherd, Ronald Miller)

Joe Goldberg

Timothee Chalamet (Wonka, Paul Atreides)

Minho (The Maze Runner)

Keanu Reeves (John Wick, Neo, Alex Wyler, Dr. Beckham, Julian Mercer, Ted Logan)

Jim Halpert

Farkas/Vilkas

Ulfric Stormcloak

Miraak

Ben Schnetzer (Max Vandenburg, Brad Land, Russ Sheppard)

Ralph Macchio (Daniel Larusso, Johnny Cade)

Dallas Winston

Sodapop Curtis

Robby Keene

Zuko (atla dallas liu)

Jet (atla sebastian amoruso)

Cillian Murphy (Johnathan crane, jackson rippner, Neil Lewis)

Evan Peters (all ahs characters, Luke cooper)

James Franco (Laird Mayhew, Harry Osborn, all characters)

What I wont do:

Pedophilia

Beastiality or anything animal-y

Waterworks

Male reader (sorry)

Character x character

Threesomes or anything not 1x1

Character x oc

Specific body types (i just don’t see the point)

Daddy/mommy kinks

Incest or stepcest

(I’ll prob have to add on but its midnight rn)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

A Very Long, Personal [but positive] Ramble about Neurodivgerency and Character Hyperfixation

[u can ignore this if you want this is just an ADHD ramble - this is a kinda 'mask off' talk about ADHD, autism and my personal history with it all. I also talk about the upsides and downsides - and the importance of Hobie to me personally - I just wanna normalize this stuff lol]

a.k.a The story of how I sent from obsessing over him to HIM in 10 years (what a glowup on my part ik)

(I know a lot of peeps on here can feel self-conscious about being neurodivergent and character connection or whatever you wanna call it and so do I! So I wanted to write it out or just ramble for my own sake)

I don't know if it's obvious or not, but I LOVE HOBIE BROWN. I'm going to be completely candid - I think about him maybe 85 percent of the day if not more, and that's in no way an exaggeration.

No matter what I'm doing, there's a least one tab open in my brain thinking about him. It may not be the focus, but it's there.

That's just how I operate. And I've been this way for a LONG time. In fact, Hobie isn't my first 'total focus' character in Marvel.

I gain VERY deep hyperfixations on Marvel Characters, many lasting years. And there's nothing wrong with that - in fact it's rad!

!!!! ATTENTION: This is a whimsical care-free zone. For Happy Funny Folk !!!!!!!!!

Loki - My introduction to hyperfixation with characters

I don't know if this is surprising or you'd be like 'yeah u seem like the type' but I use to LOVE Loki. For YEARS.

I'm AuDHD and when I was 13/14, a freshman in HS, he was my hyperfixation. Eerything I do for Hobie, I did for Loki. I even had a Loki blog for like 3/4 years.

This was back in 2012-2013, when Avengers had just came out, and the MCU wasn't - well, the MCU yet.

But even back then, the Loki fandom was HUGE. I have no idea who was also on Tumblr back then but it was gigantic. Because movies weren't coming out every 3 months, it went on for yearrrrsssss. Art, edits, fics, everything.

I was soooo into, I loved Loki. Like Hobie, I probably thought about Loki maybe 85-90% of the day.

And sure I was doing a lot of other stuff but in the back of my head there was always the oc x canon storyline running in my head, or replaying scenes from memory and analyzing, or wondering and speculating about his character.

I mask very minimally or not at all - so everyone in my school knew me for it. And at the time I didn't know I was neurodivergent, but that didn't stop me - I was genuinely proud of it.

I wore Loki shirts to school and brought the Avengers DVD the day it dropped (this was back before streaming in ye' old 2013). I knew the Avengers movie back to front.

I saw Thor: The Dark World the day it released and SOBBED openly in the theater when he 'died'. (I remember my mom leaning over and whispering 'Do you wanna leave?' cause I seemed that upset lol)

And everyday I use to wear a necklace like this -

(credit IJSY on Etsy)

But in black, until one day I had it in my pocket and I sat on it in class and broke it in two. And people around me deadass were like 'daammnn I know that shit hurt in ur soul' cause I LOVED Loki and people knew it. And I didn't care if they did.

And I was like that for years. Overtime the Loki fandom fizzled out, especially around Phase 2 when things like GOTG first came out.

But I had a Loki fixation like maybe up until the show came out. And even then I've seen the whole thing (I ain't even like it that much 4.5/10) and I'm gonna watch the second one (I'm a fool)

But any way like to this day I still remember the first time I saw Loki and how it made me feel and I can like picture it in my head and I consider it a pretty influencial albeit mundane moment in my life.

And it was a very specific feeling but it was like as soon as I saw Loki's first scene in Avengers, I was plugged into the screen.

Other Hyperfixations - Charles Xavier, Peter Parker

All of my hyperfixations are on men in marvel and they have always been. There's been others I've cycled through, usually based on the newest movie. I even went through a LENGTHY and very in depth K-pop era (don't get me started).

Charles Xavier was a favorite of mine (from X-Men First Class), and I LOVE MCU Peter Parker. I still do. But none hit like Loki did.

There was never THAT feeling, like the fantastical electric feeling.

And I had never felt that feeling again UNTIL I SAW HOBIE (i wanna cry)

My fixation with HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN (sorry I can't say his name only one time im too excited)

In the theatre my jaw genuinely dropped like I'm pretty sure I said 'OH NAH' to myself when i first saw him

Cause he was the prettiest character I've ever seen and I mean that

I didn't recognize what that feeling was until just now like YES, it's the same feeling. And I can't even describe it.

It's like every other character is normal but as soon as you lay eyes on this character for the first time it's like suddenly they're under your skin and curled up in your heart and you can FEEL them and the weight of them PHYSICALLY like not body wise but like astral personhood wise (do I sound unhinged)

And Hobie was just so pretty.

First of all - I didn't know he was black fgsbtgtuiuigs id never heard of spiderpunk

The wicks were what caught me off guard first. I know what wicks are, I've seen them before. But never animated.

And although Miles and Gwen and Pavi all look realistic - Hobie looked real to me. The high cheekbones and broad lips, the raised brow ridge and wide set eyes - he looked different from them, not just in art style but like - I DONT KNOW.

But that's how it is, you know what I mean. There was just something in my brain that was like 'he has meaning to me'. Like 'Idk who this man is, but whatever story he's writing, I'm reading it'.

That's what hyperfixation feels like.

And Hobie in specific held and holds so much more weight for me IN ADDITION.

I started falling out of my Loki phase around Thor: Ragnorok in 2017 - which is to say I was varying degrees of 'obsessed' with Loki for about 5 years.

Around that time, maybe starting in 2015, police brutality in NYC picked up. Me and my friends started getting more radicalized, going to protests, and identifying as communists, anarchists, or both.

One of my favorite things at the time was The Black Panther Party handbook I'd found at a second hand-book store. And for a while the Black Panther Party was a special interest of mine.

It made me really interested in the 70's, the civil rights movement, and the rise of punk that happened at the same time. Around this time, I made my first 'battle jacket' with a patch that said "Black Lives Matter, Bitch." and begged my parents for a pair of doc martens.

I didn't have Hobie back then, but I have him now. And he still resonates.

There was very much a time where I was that homeless, punk teen, angry at police, who wanted to be taken in by my favorite heros.

My admiration for Hobie comes from like - everything he is. Everything he stands for and represents. I don't need Hobie like I would've as a teen. But I know deep down the healing he could bring other people as a comfort character.

Or even in terms of a good political example, or great rep for alt black people. All of it.

That can't really be said for Loki. Or Charles Xavier (even if X-men is a race allegory), or even Peter Parker.

I grew up in NYC all my life, and I LOVE Spider-man, but I never felt Connected to Peter Parker as if we lived in the same city. I never felt something in common with Peter even if he was broke too.

Hobie's just different, y'know.

The Downsides

It's easy to feel really embarrassed by all this - and even now I'm feeling shy even describing how it feels.

Cringe culture gets in your head before you know it. I'm CONSTANTLY telling myself 'no, Hobie would understand that you're neurodivergent and this is you expressing yourself he wouldn't think youre cringe youre not cringe okay' As if my comfort character Hobie Brown thinking I'm cringe is like jksjfkjf the worst thing ever - i can't, i can't with myself.

I genuinely want to hug Hobie more than I want to huge most celebrities or influential real-life people.

I genuinely think hugging him would be more healing to my being than hugging the Pope or the Dhali Lama or something. I admire him and care about him but he's NOT REAL. It's PARASOCIAL And like duh, I know that - i'm grown as fuck.

Sometimes it can genuinely get you down that you care about this character-person and you can't be with them

It's like you miss them. But they're not real and you don't know them. And I know that sounds tragic or bizarre. But it's kinda just weird. It feels weird not in a sad way, but in a 'why brain?? why is this possible in my brain?? huh???' way.

Like...I know it's parasocial, but like it's not like a fan and a youtuber. He's not real, I'm not giving him money or hurting anyone. I know there's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's just WEIRD.

Like... I know my cat isn't a person and mentally I don't see them as a person and can't like analyze them like a full formed person even if I wanted to. But with Hobie - someone who is not a person - my brain can???? Like I've never met him but like... I can imagine a full conversation with him beginning to end in his place of residence I've also never seen before??????? SO WEIRD.

Also theres that thing of him running in the back of my head 85% of the time.

Even if I'm talking or cooking or something, I'm still daydreaming about him - I have ADHD. And during those times if i'm interrupted and someone give me a THIRD thing to do (besides thing 1 and thinking about Hobie) I get irritated. Because now I have less brain room for Hobie stuff.

The Upsides

Now reading all of this you might be like 'sib this sounds like nothing but a problem r u okay' but I PROMISE ITS REAL FUN SOMETIMES

And it's nothing to feel ashamed of!

Now the last part was just a list of downsides, but the upsides are more things I can do because of my hyperfixation on Hobie that makes me happy

Like I said, I daydream a LOT. Like a LOT.

Mainly with OCs You can probably tell how much I like OCs, and how much OCs - even others', mean to me. And usually, my OCs are the ones who I see the in-media universe through. I don't have to think about making an OC much, for me personally they come fully formed. Because of this, while I'm watching movies I begin to have involuntary daydreams of where I can add in an OC, or what they'd be doing. I typically only do this for Marvel though. Hardly DC or any other media other than maybe Batman. For Loki, it was a character named Asdisira Heimdaldottir who I shipped with him. And for Hobie it's Diane Pastors (Disco-Spider).

And although I am in completely control of what these daydreams are, they are vividly realistic, and can come on at different times.

For me, it's while listening to music mostly. But anything can trigger it - from a good text post, to hearing a phrase. And these daydreams are extremely vivid. Most times, you can visibly see when I'm doing it. My eyes will glaze over or start moving as if I'm trying to remember something. Sometimes I may say 'random' phrases. I say lines from the scene I'm in outloud. (Like saying 'How could you!' in an offended tone to myself, if that's what the character in the daydream is saying). I also make facial expressions. I can do it on purpose, like hitting play on a movie and resuming where I left off. Usually, when I do this, I close my eyes. I much prefer to sit and do it without multitasking, but I often do it while doing something else.

These daydreams connect, and arcs/storylines can go on for months/years.

Usually these stories go on for months in IRL time, and span the whole history of the character. For Loki, I probably has Asdisira for 4 years at most. Which is still a LONG time. These arcs can take different pathways, and I may imagine a scene multiple times - in different ways, but usuall the timeline of the oc x canon stays overall the same. Sadly, I almost never write these down. I would pull my hair out and theres not enough time in the world for me to write Diane and Hobie's full narrative down in detail that does it justice. I wanna make a bullet list of their narrative but i dont wanna clog dashes

I can genuinely use them as a comfort character.

I don't need this much now, and nowhere as much as I needed it in high school, but having the ability to daydream vividly at will about a character you feel safe and happy with - it's dope. Sometimes it really helps. There were a lot of times I imagined Loki comforting me or showing me kindness or helping me calm down. And sometimes you can do it just for fun. Like, as a treat. Whenever. I'm imagining Diane and Hobie at a fish n' chip shop right now. It's drizzling outside and it smells like oil and Hobie douses his chips in wayyy to much vinegar. It's like I'm there. Like...I just do that. thats rad as hell. (and I don't know how to describe it if you can't do it but hopefully others know how it is but it's VIVID, like wayyyy more than any dream.)

Literally a walking fact book about them.

I'm smug AS FUCK. I use to love when dudes in high school challenged me about the MCU cause I wore a shirt. Like, oh buddy. Oh pal. Just you fucking wait. I know this character better than you know your own mother - try me hoe. I love reading characters like a book and rewatching scenes, breaking down motives, watching their movements, looking for patterns and drawing connections to real world history, cultures, or psychology. I LOVE watching behavior and personality in the movies, and making conclusions about where they'd come from, reasonably, for the character, and how it affects them outside the scope of the film.

And most of all - It's Free Joy we're almost at the end I promise

This is long as all hell and unlike my other posts there really isn't a neat little character study but uhhh I wanna end with this I guess -

The best part of it, is it's free joy. Literally.

My brain can do something a lot of others can't. I can feel a kind a comfort and understanding with a character, I can entertain myself and come up with amazing stories that have mean to me.

I can make wonderful worlds and all that without lifting a finger, and hangout with my favorite characters just by going

(literally how i be sitting there - professor x headass)

I hoping the fucking multiverse with my mind.

But there's nothing cringe about that. And there's nothing cringe about drawing Hobie for hours on end, by himself or with an oc. There's nothing cringe about thinking about them a lot, or wanting to buy or make a lot of merch.

We aren't hurting anyone. It's not like a celebrity or a youtuber. Nothing we're doing is taboo or anything we're literally just being happy. And squealing about a character we deeply love

Like..Golly if more mfers in this world were squealing like us once a week maybe they'd be happier, you know what I mean. People be walking around mad as hell at the world...like why don't you look at this picture of Hobie and calm down? That's what makes me calm down.

__________________________________________________

Anyway uh this is LONG and not connected much to ATSV but if you read down this low THANK YOU so deeply it means a lot. If you relate to this at all I'd love to hear.

And if you think I'm unhinged. Absolutely. But that has nothing to do with this and ain't nothing wrong about it, in the words of megan the stallion... 'ah'.

I leave you with this pic of Hobie goodbye :)

im using my magic autism powers to hold his hand :) now im giving him a hug im having fun

[rt8815]

Come Home

Dipping my toes back into writing with my very first Loki x OC fic, though she (Dr. Aspen Junge) only makes a brief appearance at the end of this piece.

It's post-Avengers canon divergent. I'll be jumping around non-chronologically, but perhaps not as much as my Criminal Minds OC fic.

A special thanks to @illegalcerebral for brainstorming names for my OC with me and for being an awesome sounding board ♥️

WC: 1,153

...

New York, 2030

Loki mumbled to himself, brow furrowed in concentration. He sat at his desk, sorting through forms and intelligence reports that Stark had sent earlier in the day. Being an Avenger involved a surprising amount of paperwork.

“Daddy?” a tiny voice called out from the study door. There stood Loki’s four year old daughter, her face slightly paled with tiredness.

Setting the papers aside, he opened his arms to her. “Why are you out of bed, lille venn?” he asked when she climbed into his lap.

“Fenny can't sleep,” she explained, handing him the wolf plushie that she had been clutching against her ribs.

“Mmm, and what's troubling him, Astrid?”

“We’re worried about Uncle Thor. Is he okay?”

“Why do you ask, love?”

She pointed at the window, which was getting steadily pelted with rain and sleet.

“His storm sounds sad, Daddy,” she explained, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s not loud like usual.”

Loki agreed that it looked rather miserable outside, all drizzly and gray.

“You miss him,” he stated simply, earning a solemn nod in response.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back, revealing her melancholic face.

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about your Uncle Thor, but this,” he inclined his head toward the rain, “isn’t him. Asgard is too far away for him to influence the weather here.”

“Oh,” came her soft reply.

He brushed a few inky black, wavy locks off her face. “As for missing him...I know it’s hard to wait, but Thor will return soon.”

“How soon?”

“Two sleeps, darling.”

Astrid gazed blankly at the rain, digesting the information. “So...day after tomorrow.”

“Correct.”

She buried herself in her father’s chest with a huff. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Loki chuckled, nuzzling her hair.

“All right, back to bed with you,” he ordered as he stood from his chair and carried her down the hall. “We have a busy day ahead of us, and if you aren’t well rested, you’ll be as ornery as a bilgesnipe.”

Kneeling, he gently placed Astrid on her bed, but she sat back up before he could tuck her in. Loki raised his brows at her questioningly.

“Daddy, can we sing “Come Home” for Uncle Thor? Please?” she begged.

Loki hesitated. The song he had written many years ago in a bout of homesickness was meant to be sung by the weary traveler, not those awaiting his return. Moreover, it held very complicated feelings for him. His daughter, however, knew none of that.

Astrid’s hazel eyes rounded and her lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, pulling at Loki’s heartstrings.

Norns, that child had him wrapped around her fingers. He sighed in resignation.

“Very well, but not too loudly. We mustn’t wake your Mother.”

“Okay,” she whispered, waving her hands about, leaving behind a trail of teal sparks. “And you can use your ‘llusions too?”

Loki carefully enveloped Astrid’s hands in his own. “With your help,” he said, smiling when her face lit up.

“Focus,” he instructed. “Think of the object you wish to project. See it in your mind's eye. Do you have it?”

Astrid stared with comical intensity at their joined hands, a little dent forming on her forehead. “Got it,” she announced after a few moments.

“Good, keep concentrating,” he instructed as he opened his hands, prompting her to do the same.

Resting in Astrid's palms was a narrow insect nearly an inch long, with black wings accented by yellow along the edges, and a yellow-red-black target pattern on its head. As Loki watched, the creature unfurled its wings and took off, hovering a few inches in the air.

There the black and yellow underbelly was exposed, the latter of which began glowing at regular intervals.

“It's a lightning bug!” Astrid announced proudly.

“I see! Very well done,” Loki congratulated her.

“Thanks! Your turn, Daddy.”

“I don't know how I could possibly follow that performance, but I shall try.”

Closing his eyes, Loki slowly raised his arms, palms upward. Rich green light emanated from them, spreading throughout the room, replacing the furniture and bookcases with a verdant forest, teeming with wildlife.

A (quietly) roaring waterfall appeared where a lamp stood moments before, the stream it emptied into bubbling alongside Astrid's bed. Above them towered a majestic apple tree, its branches populated with vibrantly colored birds.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Ready.”

Music softly swelled around them as they began the chorus, altering the tune to that of a lullaby:

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

After a pause, Loki took the lead for the verse, his warm baritone voice settling over the room like a cozy blanket.

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger…

Loki gestured to Astrid, inviting her to finish the line.

She looked skyward, her fledgling soprano filling the air as she sweetly sang, “når kommer du hjem?”

They repeated the chorus once more, softly clapping to the beat of the fading music.

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

With a flick of Loki’s wrists, the illusion dissolved and Astrid’s room returned to normal.

“Right, you. Sleepy time,” he said firmly, pressing his index finger to her forehead, prompting her to fall back theatrically onto the pillows.

“Did Uncle Thor hear us, Daddy?”

Loki hummed as he tucked the covers around her.

“What do you think, Astrid?”

The little girl tilted her head, giving it careful consideration.

She nodded decidedly, hugging Fenny closely.

“I know he did.”

Loki smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes.

“That's what I believe too,” he agreed, kissing the top of Astrid's head.

Sleep finally began to win, Astrid’s eyelids drooping heavily.

“God natt, Pappa,” she yawned.

Loki’s chest squeezed hearing her speak in Frigga’s dialect.

He waved his hand once more, casting an illusion of stars and swirling galaxies on the bedroom ceiling.

“God natt, min skatt,” he replied as he closed the door softly.

He walked past the study on his way to the primary suite (the paperwork would keep), pausing outside the bedroom door.

“Heimdall?” he murmured. “Tell Thor a little girl is desperately missing her uncle.”

Creeping quietly, Loki made his way to the bed to slide under the covers and wrap his arm around Aspen.

“Ya big softie,” she mumbled, pointing to the silent video feed on the baby monitor.

Loki chuckled in response. There was no point in denying it.

He pulled her closer and burrowed his face in her hair.

“Only for the two of you.”

...

I headcanon that Asgardian sounds more Icelandic, and Vanir, which I assume Frigga would have spoken as a first language, would more closely resemble Norwegian, since that's the language they used in the Loki series.

Lille venn translates to "little friend," or in the context of a parent speaking to a child, it means "little darling."

God natt means "good night."

Min skatt means "my treasure."

[jmwdoesthings]

Set Me Free - a Loki x OC fanfiction - Chapter One

~~~*~*~*~~~

Hello :) I'm Jmw. So, I'm re-writing an old fanfiction of mine, and will be posting the chapters accordingly. There will be angst, fluff, and no smut, though it may get very slightly spicy at times (no gross details, or explicit content, I promise). However, since this deals with some heavy topics like madness and torture, I am going to rate this an 18 so people with a fragile heart can avoid being traumatised.

This is a Loki/OC, childhood-friends (sort of) to enemies to lovers. Thor will be her, so will Tony Stark. This is before Avengers and after Thor: Dark World, but it does have the Avengers. The chronology may vary from the line of events slightly.

I'll try and update as quickly as I can, anyway... here's the first chapter.

Ah, and this is just a story - there is only one God and he wants the best for you :)

Enjoy!

~~~*~*~*~~~

Chapter One - In which Loki is mistaken for one who cares.

Vengeance crumbles the soul. It sways foundations, cracks backbones. It topples tenderness in the heart and reduces honesty to a brittle sculpture which eventually shatters as it's blown through by the ice of disappointment; it adorns feelings with masks woven of intricate plans of deceit and manipulation. 

And so Loki Laufeyson’s heart became hard like black ice, which ensnared all the raw and red and beating within it, and turned him into a being of darkness, with black crystals cutting through the blood in his veins, shrouding his chest in armour of indifference, flooding his intestines with acid and clenching his jaw, tight.

Could one see this turmoil and hidden fury in his eyes? Yes and no. His eyes became devoid of warmth and seemed like two pristine spheres - beautiful spheres, blue like jotun skin - set there merely as a tool for deceit and treachery, instead of being a window to his soul, and the turmoil he hid well enough for nobody to notice.

Loki often scoffed at that little fanciful statement. Who in their right mind saw the soul through the eyes, like through windows? When he observed other people’s eyes he saw nothing but twitching matter, something which required an irritating amount of protection on the battlefield, two frustratingly weak little points which simultaneously provided something as valuable and immense as vision. What fool wrote that statement, he wondered, then decided whatever state of intoxication that moron was in when he decided to pick up a quill and play being a poet must have been an incredibly deep one.

Or so Loki rambled on, monologuing internally to drown out the real reason why he scoffed so at a statement so true: if eyes were the window to his soul, then he feared what it was that other people - people who possessed this uncanny ability of seeing soul through the eyes, something which he had trouble with since forever - may see when they looked at his own.

It was a wonder he wasn’t spat at more often, if so many people could see the soul through the eyes. Or perhaps it was why he was spat at so often, be it with words, brutal weapons or projectiles of saliva.

But now, Loki Laufeyson did not care, for his heart was no better than deadened flesh. His heart was encased in black crystals, thoughts of revenge burned in his mind and branded his heart with something hot and seething.

Asgard was never his! Not for one accursed moment!

Loki looked up at the dimming sky and wished with every piece of his heart that he could set it on fire and watch it burn. It looked far too peaceful for him to be content with. The stars even had the audacity to wink at him - actually wink at him! As though he was just little Loki throwing a tantrum in the middle of Central Park, not the king of Asgard who was slowly descending into madness of his own accord!

Loki stared back at the millions of serene lights, looking at him from above. Or were they looking at him? Perhaps he was only thinking that their teeth-sucking was directed at him. In fact, it must have been only him - the great, omniscient stars couldn't care less about the current king of Asgard or about his miserable business.

Like Odin. Loki laughed. Odin couldn’t care less either. He must have had as much fun as those damned stars, watching Loki grow up and fight with Thor about who would be king. Oh, he must have had quite the giggle as they sparred, as they sent scholar after scholar tearing their hair and nanny after nanny running off in tears at their unfathomable characters, knowing full well which perfect son would be the final victor.

Loki clenched his fists until he heard his knuckles cracking and snapping. It had been one thousand years. It had been more than one thousand years. He had believed, for more than one thousand years, that he had been viewed as an equal, as a competitor. But no. All along, he had been a pawn. A tool. A little political reservation!

He gave a few notes of black, harsh-sounding laughter which almost made the grass wither. He had lived in his brother's shadow for so long, holding onto an illusion that somewhere, beneath all these brewing thoughts and schemes he would, one day, make his shot at being worthy and reach the crown with the tips of his fingers.

But this crown had been plucked out of his reach. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Loki had simply reached out to take it. But Loki hadn’t simply reached out to take it - he had crawled, he had pulled himself forward through fields of broken glass and metal, he had torn at the solid ground and grit and dust with his teeth in the darkness of his brother’s huge silhouette, just so that he could move along with a pace which wasn’t pitiful to the ones whom he valued. And when he been just about to grasp it, grasp this chance, shoot this shot… Odin had plucked the crown from him and placed it on Thor’s head. And Thor hadn’t been battered. Thor hadn’t had a single bruise, a single scratch upon him, from his journey to the crown. Thor hadn’t crawled forward on his knees through thorns and sharp, jagged rocks. Thor had been ridden towards the crown in a carriage, reclining with his feet on the opposite seat with everything he needed at his elbow, leaving Loki to be run over and stamped over by the horses which pulled it.

But now, Loki had a plan. One so intricate and subtle, nobody would notice his justified intentions. He would destroy the very place he came from, the very place which posed threat and show Odin that it was he, Loki Laufeyson, the lesser son, who accomplished something even the great Thor Odinson couldn’t do. If Odin wanted him to play at being worthy, so be it. He’d do it his own way. Jotunheim was going to be wiped off the face of the planet, and his father would perhaps finally grace him with-

Loki realised where his train of thought was going, then the shadows in his face darkened as he snarled.

“He’s not my father,” he spat at a nearby tree, sending it cowering and twitching as it ought to when he glared at it, internally shame-faced at some hidden longing of being acknowledged by the Allfather. Loki didn’t need to be acknowledged. He was the god of chaos and he could do everything the god of thunder could, more, for he wasn’t an oaf who had to threaten the scholars so that Odin would receive word that he did, indeed, pass all of his tests which involved more subtlety and intelligence than swinging Mjolnir around his thick head did.

Loki didn’t quite delve into the reason as to why he escaped to Midgard for the day, well, evening. He hated mortals. They were stupid and weak. And yet Asgard was too much, today - this morning Loki had awoken with something horrible and burning stumbling up and down his spine and leaking into his thoughts. He needed to get away, get away from this personal Hel he was walking into… and he supposed there was an element of curiosity too, as to what his brother would now be doing in a place which wasn’t even worthy to uphold one of his boots.

The distant hum of machinery never ceased, even if there was nothing but trees for quite some distance around him, and it only made his thoughts blacker as he gritted his teeth. Perhaps he ought to have chosen a different location to revel in his bitterness than this suffocating park. Even the trees and foliage growing around sparsely looked as though they were artificial.

Then, someone spoke.

“Hello?”

Loki disregarded this voice and presence, a small thought of his weighing more than whatever life coursed through this impertinent mortal’s veins. 

He looked up at the darkening sky and returned his thoughts to this poisoned cup life served him, which he was forced to drink from and watch as his veins became black, as his mouth started to froth and ice began to spread through his insides, hurting him, cutting him, spiking him.

Ice. Ha, ha! Of course, Loki forgot! Ice wouldn’t hurt him. No, because Loki was never Odinson in the first place; he was Laufeyson! He was a blue-skinned bastard! He was a jotun-!

“Excuse me.”

Loki made a sound similar to a growl and whipped around. If this mortal knew who he was, it would be grovelling on its papery little knees for forgiveness for interrupting his inner monologue. But Loki would not be forgiving. Oh, no. Quite frankly, he had enough of everything which spoke and had eyes, and if he was going to officially become an outcast, he was going to put his whole blackened soul into it. He’d had enough of being trodden on by others.

It was dark, but light enough for shapes to be distinguishable in the evening, and Loki had sharp eyes. When he focused them on this pathetic little shape, his murderous intentions lessened a little, because he had set them upon a child. A small child. Small enough not to be able to survive with a mother’s hand to hold, and yet it was here, with no other presence around, looking up at him as though he was a potential mother. 

It sniffed. Hah, it was crying; its lip was trembling! Disgusting.

“Sorry… Have you seen a man here anywhere?” it said, its voice torn but still strangely polite for a creature so small. Loki hated its sound as soon as it spoke, for it had that unclear quality which came from very recently learning how to speak which grated on his already-tender nerves.

“No,” he replied curtly, then flicked his head to the side for it to move on. But it didn’t seem to take the hint, merely stared up at him with the two, huge eyes in its head shining. Loki couldn’t quite tell, but he thought they were grey. A strange colour. Perhaps young mortal offspring had different eyes to Asgardian children.

When a few moments had passed and still it stood there, Loki began to grow irritated. Perhaps he ought to shoo it away like some meandering cattle. Did it not get the hint? Was it stupid?

He turned back to stare at it and it shifted, bowing its head and clenching its hands at its small chest. 

“I’m lost,” it said, sniffing, tears spilling down its small face.

Loki chuckled emptily at its words. He was lost too, though he had a place to call home - a place which he now officially ruled over, actually - and he felt it, cold and empty in this soul which people could see through the eyes and he kept somewhere in his chest. In his chest… It must be the reason why it felt so cold recently. 

“Sad, isn’t it,” he said to it, folding his hands behind his back. “Quite a tragedy.”

He observed the creature with distaste. It was undoubtedly female. In the last slivers of light, Loki could make out black hair curling to its chin and rather clear features, as though they belonged to an artist’s paintbrush.

He sighed. “Why don’t you do us both a favour and go and find your mother, hm?”

The mortal child wiped its face and gave a resigned sigh. 

“My mother is dead.”

Loki blinked. “Oh.”

He shifted from foot to foot, felt a spike of sympathy, then grew immediately irritated for giving a fraction of a damn, and they grew even more irritated because his moment of dark contemplation of his existence was utterly ruined and now he was going to have to work himself up again to produce it.

“What makes you think I’m going to help you?” he snapped, then really did shoo it away like a stray cat. “Be on your way! Shoo! Off you go! Get going!”

But it stood its ground and did nothing but stare at him. Loki’s fingers twitched. Was it dim-witted? Was it moronic? Pathetic, stupid creature! Did it not see he was incensed?

“Away!” He raised his voice. “I have nothing for you!”

He snarled, baring his teeth. Scare it off, that should do it.

But it didn’t look scared, though it did obediently take a few steps back warily, as though he was a mad man, which only made his fingers tighten and his temper flame, but then there was a rustle to their left; it jumped, its grey eyes widening, then stumbled forward again, out of the shadows of the bushes.

It looked so small in this dark, cold setting of dusk, slight, insignificant compared to the looming trees. It looked as lost as it said it was. But it could not help itself, no matter how hard it tried. He still had a way out. Theoretically, anyway.

Loki gritted his teeth and clenched his fist and muttered some black curses under his breath which he would have never repeated anywhere near his mother for he would have gotten walloped like a swine being butchered.

“Right, fine,” he said airily. “Stay here and bother me, if it makes you feel better.” He waved his hand at it, then turned his back on it. He chuckled, then lowered his voice. “If only you knew who I was. You’d be running for the hills as fast as your little legs could carry you.”

He had been speaking mainly to himself, but its silly voice sounded again and, he had to give it the credit, it made the corners of his lips turn up.

“I know who you are.”

Loki gave a scoffing laugh, then tittered. “Oh, yes. Of course you do.”

“I do,” it insisted.

“I’m sure you do,” he turned towards it, but not completely, for it did not deserve his full attention, and immediately grew irritated at himself for giving it so much attention when he had came to Midgard for a lack of it. “After all, you’re all big and grown up. Grown up enough to navigate this extensive stretch of land.” He encompassed the dismal park with a gesture. “In fact, why don’t you go and explore it?”

He looked at its eyes, then suppressed a shiver. They shouldn’t have belonged to a creature so small and insignificant. They were solemn and knowing, like his mother’s often were whenever he had an outburst; like they had seen just as much as his had.

“Go on,” he mouthed to it, making a pointer with his hand, turning his eyes towards any other features but its observational tools. “Off you go.”

It fixed his eyes onto his and said, “You are Loki Laufeyson, the king of Asgard.”

Loki halted in his tracks, feeling something cold in his veins, his airy smile melting off his face and being replaced by cold astonishment.

“What?” he whispered, his voice sharp as a knife. “What did you just call me?”

Its small brows met, but it fulfilled his request. “I said you are Loki Laufey-”

He reached it in a flash and clamped his hand upon the lower part of its face. He felt his chest heaving up and down with searing rage and he could have sworn that his hand was now tinged with an accursed hue of blue in the dim light.

“Silence,” he hissed, as it struggled under his grasp. “Or I’ll make sure you’ll never speak again.”

It clutched his hand and pushed it down, its eyes wide. “Cold!” it whimpered, clutching at its face. “You’re cold, you’re so cold!”

Loki retracted his hand, something unravelling in his chest as he watched it rub its face and its lips trembling.

“I-” He made a motion with his hand, as though he could brush away his outburst with the material of his pants, then scowled and straightened, severing his guilt and caging himself. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

There was no disguise upon it. It wasn’t an illusion. If it was, he would have distorted it with his touch, or his hand would have passed right through it. What was this? This was a mortal child who knew his name! It knew his heritage! Nobody knew of his true heritage but Odin and Frigga!

He took a few steps back, his hands instinctively reaching for his daggers; he whipped them out and brandished them, the metal gleaming cruelly in the fading light. 

“Listen, witch, or whatever you are…” He brought the dagger up to its snub nose and watched it furrow its brows and frown at him. “... either you tell me who you are and what your plan is, or I’m going to be the living evidence of exactly why you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

It was silent. 

“Speak!” he yelled, losing his temper. “Who sent you? Are you a spy?”

The mortal child blinked up at him. It seemed not to understand that it could be skinned like a hare if he only wished for it, looking at the gleaming blades with interest instead; looking up at him as though he was the young one frolicking, here!

Loki felt a pang of embarrassment, then lowered the tip of his blade. He was threatening a being which had probably just learned how to walk of its own accord. It didn’t understand him. 

He sheathed his daggers and straightened, his blood still roaring in his ears and his chest heaving, and he stared down at it, waiting for it to make the next move.

Its gaze travelled to his hands, to his eyes, then it blinked and began to pull its pink, fluffy sleeves down to grab their ends.

“My name is Henrietta Knott.” It managed to engulf its hands in sleeve, flapped them, then sighed and swallowed. “I turn six in half a year. My parents died in a fire when I was… two.”

Loki clenched his fists. It was one thing loathing the man who raised him and not having a father at all. Or a mother. Perhaps he would have died if Odin hadn’t taken him in.

“I live with my uncle,” it continued. “We went for a walk, and then he disappeared.”

Loki frowned. “He disappeared.”

It nodded and when it spoke next its voice was trembling again. “I turned around and he wasn’t there anymore.”

With that, fresh tears began to spill down its cheeks and it stood there, crying, not even bothering to wipe its face. It looked truly pitiable, this shivering form in a pink fluffy coat and yellow, waterproof boots which were far too big for it.

Loki wasn’t proud to admit it, not even to himself, but at that moment he had never felt more helpless, as irritation, spite, anger and pity sloshed against one another in his chest. His fingers twitched behind his back as he held them there and he tried to come up with something to contribute to the situation with.

“I won’t help you,” he finally said, more to clarify this to himself than to inform the sobbing thing of his lack of heart.

“You will,” it insisted, sniffing. “You will help me.”

“You heard me, child.”

“You will.” It stopped crying now, swallowing and wiping its face. “Even if you are a bad man. You wouldn’t really hurt a child. Not knowingly.”

Loki opened his mouth, then gave a snort of disbelief. The audacity of this creature! What was that even supposed to mean? What in the Allfather’s name was all this?

“I beg your pardon?”

It gave a shaky sigh, then regained control over itself. “Your heart is horrible. You have killed people through ignorance. Through boredom.”

Loki listened with his mind blank to the words tumbling from this five-year-old’s tongue and wondered how it knew what ignorance meant.

“Look at your hands,” it said pointedly. “They’re awful, aren’t they?”

Loki looked at them obediently, stunned out of his senses, something which never happened. He was the one who frazzled people’s senses; and here was this practically a new-born in comparison to him, telling him of his sins while he blundered!

He felt his nostrils flaring and lowered his hands with some force, his face stretching into something perhaps an opponent would find threatening, but this child only looked at him curiously with a strange solemn glimmer in its eyes as it watched him.

“Look at your hands,” it repeated, then pointed at them and flapped its own.

Loki tore his scouring gaze from it and looked down at his hands once more. He turned them over, running his vision over their creases, their details, their length. Nothing.

After a few moments, he shook his head slowly and cast a questioning look back at the child.

“I admit that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said flatly. “What am I meant to be seeing?”

“They drip with black,” the child pronounced. “Black which doesn’t belong to you.”

“Explain yourself.”

“It’s blood.” It nodded when his expression became blank. “Of the people you’ve hurt. Killed.”

He gave a harsh laugh to mask the strange quiver of his heart, fear seeping through his bones. 

“Blood is red,” he said cuttingly. “You’ve missed that part of your homework, little creature. Now, you ought to go home and do it before some equally evil man comes to find you and hurts you.”

It shivered, then took a few steps forward; closer to him.

“If you killed by accident, the blood would be red.”

Loki felt a strange urge to push it away with his foot as the child took hold of his coat, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Hadn’t he threatened it a moment ago? And yet it was clinging to him like he was safe, for all the apparent black dripping from his hands. If it hadn’t said what she had a few moments ago, Loki would have been certain it had a few cogs missing beneath the soft and black of its hair.

“Some drops are red. Some you did not intend to die. But most are black, and so you are bad.” It looked up at him, as though for confirmation. “People who kill to achieve a… a selfish goal are evil. Aren’t they?”

Loki of Asgard made another motion with his hands, as though wiping them clean, then snorted at himself and folded them behind his back again. 

He said nothing, but it was still staring at him. Plus, who was he to destroy the moral compass of a being who didn’t see him as king, he thought half-heartedly.

“Yes,” he replied softly, feeling oddly hollow and helpless. “They are evil.”

It observed him for a little while longer, then shrugged its small shoulders. “You will wash it off in years to come.”

Loki felt a pang of… something, in his chest. Something hopeful. “Really.”

“Really.” It nodded. “People pay with bad deeds with pain. That’s what Uncle said once, to Mister Anderson.”

It sighed, then looked back up at him from the daisies they were standing on, pity in its eyes. “I’m sorry you will get hurt.”

Loki would have perhaps felt his temper spike violently again, transforming from his restlessness at this statement, but it was quelled by the action of the child taking hold of his fingers.

“Don’t look so angry,” Henrietta Knott whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Loki looked down at their hands. Hers was small and pink and very soft, as she held his pale forefinger and thumb, hard and toughened with scars in comparison. Something tugged at his heart; he sighed, then moved his hand so that it held hers. It felt good. Good and strange, because Henrietta looked astonishingly content with him doing so. 

Loki’s hands were renowned for doing great and terrible things - wielding daggers, casting spells, being tools which expertly aided him with his ploys and weaving his lies - but using them to guide and reassure was certainly not one of them.

“I don’t want to get hurt either,” he admitted, again, more to himself than to the small thing pressed to his right leg.

“I know,” she replied, then looked up at him. “Can you take me home?”

Loki, the being with no conscience and a black soul raised an eyebrow at this proposal. “Do you really want me to hold your hand all the way?” he mocked. “Don’t you fear the black blood dripping on your pretty little coat and fingers?”

She laughed at him, as though he had said something particularly funny. She had a rich, gurgling laugh that even his bitterness and black ice had some trouble withstanding. 

“Oh, you are silly.”

Loki frowned. Silly didn’t belong to his repertoire of things he would like to be called, especially not by beings who could barely talk. “I beg your pardon?”

“My fingers won’t be dirty.” She smiled. “I haven’t hurt anybody.”

“Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just wait until you’re older.”

Henrietta looked up at him and stopped laughing, looking too solemn for her age as her grey eyes widened. “Will I hurt people when I’m older?” 

Loki had absolutely no idea. For a moment, he thought about toying with her as she had unwittingly done with his feelings since he’d met her, but he was holding her hand, it was delicate and soft like a chick  and he’d be damned if anything happened to it while he was around.

“Oh, don’t worry. Everybody does,” he said as a throwaway comment as they started to walk. “In fact, I daresay you will break hearts like dinner plates when a table is turned over, with those eyes of yours.”

“Oh.”

She seemed crestfallen. Loki observed her with raised eyebrows as she sighed then as she said, “Then I will never grow up.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “No?” 

“No,” she replied. “You know, in this book there was a boy who never grew up. He could fly. He flew to listen to this really nice girl read stories to her brothers about him, then flew back to his magical home in a land that was quite far away.”

“Indeed?”

“M-hm,” she hummed, stepping alongside him through the trees. “I won’t grow up either. A lot of grown-ups aren’t nice. So I will stay like this, hopefully. And won’t grow up.”

Loki bowed his head, wishing for a moment that he didn’t grow up either. 

“Don’t,” he said softly, then fell silent as she did. 

It was autumn, October. Leaves had fallen off the trees, jumping to their death and lay piled around them, skittering across the rich grass and carpeting the dirt paths. Though it was night, it was still pleasant enough for the creature beside him not to shiver. Loki didn’t shiver; he was an accursed jotun.

They hadn’t walked very far when Henrietta stopped.

“Oh, look!”

“What is it?” he snapped, for he had just begun to sink into dark thought and she’d disturbed his wallowing for the third time in the space of fifteen minutes.

“Floating leaves.” She bent over to look at whatever it was she was fascinated with. “There’s a puddle under there.”

“So-?”

Before he could pull her on, she slid her hand out of his and jumped straight into this puddle, splashing, squealing with laughter. Loki watched flabbergasted, trying to understand how jumping in a pooling of downpour and getting her clothes wet was a form of amusement, before the muddy water landed a few inches short of his shoes. He took an instant step back. 

“What are you doing?!” He pulled her away from the water. “You crazy being. Ah, you-!”

She had kicked the puddle and stained the bottom of his pants with mud. He gave a disdainful scowl, dried them with a flash of green light, then glared down at her. 

“Right! That’s it. I’m leaving you to the wolves. You can go and find your uncle and if you get consumed as a form of light supper, it serves you right.”

He finished scowling, then raised his hands in question, because she was staring at him in awe.

“What was that?!” she cried, stamping in delight. “Do that again!”

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

She clapped her hands and made a sound like a mute frog being trod on, miming an explosion with her hands.  “This!”

He frowned, then realised. 

“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “This?”

Zing. The green light danced up and down his form, lighting up the darkness with brilliance, and lifted his hair a little. Henrietta Knott jumped up and down, clapping, stamping, looking completely delighted, her little teeth glinting.

“Again! Again! Again!”

“Have you never seen magic before?” he asked incredulously, his heart thumping strangely, almost afraid of the amazement he saw in her eyes. “It’s not a rare sight.”

She gasped. “Was that magic?” 

“What else would it be?” he said, then outstretched a hand and flashes of light sparked on its surface. “It is magic. My magic.”

“It's…!” She searched for words, pressing her little hands to her face in exaltation. “It’s magnificent!”

And then Loki laughed, straight from the bottom of his heart, something swelling his lungs so that he actually felt as though he was breathing, his mouth stretched so wide it made his face ache. She thought he was magnificent! She thought he was great! Loki wasn’t a madman! He was being complimented! Within moments, he had cast away all of his kingly dignity. He crouched down, disappeared with emerald flashes, reappeared in different places with a bang whilst Henrietta Knott turned round and round with feverish pleasure, squealing, gasping, clapping accordingly.

“Got you,” he hissed as he appeared behind her, apparently an evil wizard. “Found you! Now, I will cart you off to prison, to my jail. You will never be able to get out-!”

He made the mistake of crouching down when appearing. Henrietta gave a delighted yell of excitement and threw herself into his arms. They toppled over onto a pile of leaves, destroying it. Loki landed on his back, slightly winded.

“No,” he gasped when he got his breath back, remembering what function he currently fulfilled. “None of that. Get off me.”

But she didn’t. She climbed right on top of him and sat down on his chest, patting his face.

“You won’t lock me into prison now,” she chuckled. “I’m a dragon. I’ve got you instead.”

He looked up at this improbable dragon sitting on his chest and lowered his hands. He didn’t remember the last time he could speak this level of nonsense without having to watch eyes being rolled.

“No, you’re not.” He sighed, folding his hands on top of his stomach, then looked at her with almost fond resignation. “You’re a silly little girl, sitting on top of the god of mischief because he allowed you to do so.”

He pulled a face, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“As soon as I am up, I will lock you into a-” he disappeared in a green flash and reappeared behind her, scooping her up, “-dungeon. And no prince, king, nor warrior will ever be able to… to… to rescue…”

He froze, because Henrietta Knott threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, still giggling. She didn’t move from that position, nuzzling into the soft of his robes beneath his armour, wriggling to get comfortable against him.

Loki had to swallow several times as he stood there dumbfounded, thoroughly convinced he was sick, because why in all nine realms did he have tears in his eyes? He was a trickster, he wielded daggers, he sowed chaos for his own amusement, he cut off heads and stabbed and slashed and killed. His heart was hard and dead, and yet it hurt, hurt as the small thing plastered to his chest and neck embraced him as though he was a hero.

“No, little girl,” he murmured, when he recollected himself. “Little girls do not hug evil men with… dripping hands and…”

He searched for words. “And horrible souls behind the eye.”

She looked at him, beamed, then kissed him on the cheek.

“I like you, Loki of Asgard.”

Loki abandoned reason. “Oh, hush,” he muttered, his voice cracking, then hugged her back carefully, smoothing her hair as she rested her little head on his shoulder.

He resumed the walk, placing each foot slowly and deftly so that he wouldn’t stumble, so that her yawns would quieten. Within moments, her breathing had regulated and she was completely still.

Loki was glad; sleeping prevented her from seeing the two trails his tears left behind upon his face. If she felt his chest moving up and down from quiet sobs, sobs which had been caged in his chest for years without him knowing, he didn’t know.

“You like me. You like me, do you?” he breathed, when he had walked a few minutes, feeling his soul through that small weight on his chest and shoulder. “A very unwise decision. A very foolish one, sweetheart.”

She stirred in her sleep, mumbling. Loki could have sworn it was a protest, and he smiled, sniffing and swallowing back the lump in his throat.

“If you say so, Henrietta Knott” he whispered, patting her back gently. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Five steps later, he paused and listened, frowning. A voice had echoed through the park. It was a male voice, a cry. Loki knew what a desperate cry sounded like, and that was what he had heard. 

It came again. “Hattie! Oh, Odin… Henrietta!”

Loki didn’t want to shout, for that meant Hattie would wake up, but the cries came again, desperation came again, and so he stopped and replied.

“Here!” he called, feeling the pet stiffen on his shoulder as he startled her awake. “I have her!”

The voice stopped, then sounded again, though with less dismay and lined with hope. “Where?! Where?!”

Loki thought, then snapped his fingers. “The green light!”

The man to whom the voice belonged rushed into the clearing when the green stream of light cleared. He was tall, well built, his arms and chest the ones of a warrior, grey hair hung to his chin and a wild beard was braided down his loosely-clad chest.

“Oh, thank Odin!” he cried, then approached him with haste. “Thank you, Sir, thank you!”

He pulled up short the same moment Henrietta turned and slid out of Loki’s arms, close enough for his features to be observed. His nose was hooked and an intricate, crimson tattoo snaked from his cheek to the left of his forehead.

“My lord,” he managed to utter, before Hattie plastered herself to him with joyful cries of, “Uncle, Uncle!”

“Uncle indeed,” Loki said coldly, sadly realising his arms felt strangely empty. “What uncle forsakes their five-year-old niece at a time like this? In a place like this? Do you realise what could have happened to her, lest she had not come across me?”

He felt his hands clenching, though by all rights he shouldn’t have cared at all. “I hear this happens again, and I’ll personally ensure you’re skewered!”

The man dropped to one knee and bowed his head, though he did not seem afraid. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said, then looked up and picked up Henrietta. “Thank Odin she was with you. I thank you for your efforts in delivering her to me. I fear to think what would have happened if you hadn’t found her.”

Loki scoured the man with his gaze, then he nodded in recognition. “It’s you,” he said. “Dauneren Haldanson.”

He gave a single chuckle, watching Henrietta as she slid from his arms and yawned sleepily.

“The banished. The foul. The traitor.”

The man bowed his head again, though he didn’t take his eyes off Hattie as she began to explore the vicinity. “The one who led the jotuns into Asgard, two-hundred years ago.” He smiled sadly. “My word remains the same. I had nothing to do with the incident. The assassination was pulled off as though I had a hand in it, but… well. I didn’t have a hand in it, not that time.”

His eyes flicked to him. “You know as the god of lies, my lord, that I am speaking the truth.”

“You wouldn’t be speaking so freely if you were not,” he replied, glad his tears had dried off and he wasn’t red in the face any longer, then smiled. “But, as they say… who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. Or at least faces torture by sharp objects.”

Haldanson grimaced. “It is so. You make a lot of enemies as an assassin, as unlikely as it may seem.”

“Hah,” Loki laughed, then trained his gaze on Hattie, who had run off to jump in another puddle of water. Haldanson followed his gaze and chuckled.

“I do apologise for any strange things she may have told you, my lord. She is gifted with talents many would kill to possess, but… you know, being only five, she has little idea about tact.”

They watched her, these two treacherous men both fully capable of murder, as Hattie squealed in the puddles, ran up to a tree in which curious squirrels observed her, the creatures probably wondering whether they had found a lost brethren in the dead of night.

“You can imagine what a fright she has given some people, my liege, recounting their darkest sins before their very eyes.” Haldanson scratched his beard and chuckled. “You know, she asks me about mine at least five times daily.”

Loki gave him half a smile. “Must be an interesting life.”

“Oh, very much so. Quite an ordeal. You can’t reason with her, she simply knows better than you.”

Loki felt an odd sort of pride at that statement, even though he had only known this little girl for about half an hour. Haldanson called Hattie over when she attempted to climb the tree to tame the squirrel - she pouted but came, seeing her attempt was futile, then took Haldanson’s hand. Loki wondered whether she could see any black on his hands, as Haldanson was no angel.

“I can,” she replied, making him start. “But Uncle’s hands are less black than yours. He’s already paid. Almost paid. His don’t drip anymore, but yours do.”

Haldanson frowned and looked slightly uncomfortable, but Loki raised his eyebrows and grinned, impressed.

“She can read thoughts?”

“Only if she wants to.” Haldanson scratched his beard again. “I reckon she’ll stop wanting when she grows a little older and begins to understand some of the things she sees. She needs to learn control. The hardest one there is… Don’t you, Hattie?”

Hattie nodded sweetly, twirling around in her yellow boots and pink, fluffy coat, looking at Loki with round, grey eyes.

“Will you walk me to school tomorrow, Loki of Asgard?”

Haldanson spluttered at her outrightness, astonished. 

“Now, Hattie,” he managed after a few seconds, “the prince of Asgard is very busy and has much more important things to do than walking little girls to school.”

Hattie pursed her lips. “Loki is the king of Asgard, Uncle.”

Haldanson looked perplexed, glanced at Loki, who looked back coolly, then when he gave no countering statement, his eyes widened and he bowed a little frantically with a hand on his breast.

“Well, I had no idea,” he managed. “Last time I was in Asgard you were a prince, my Lord-”

“But can he walk me to school?” Henrietta tugged on her uncle’s sleeve impatiently. “I don’t like Doris, she smells of cat and doesn’t like me, and you’re always very busy, uncle, and-”

“It’s alright,” Loki said, looking down at her with a smile - so many smiles in such a short space of time which weren’t a mask, an admirable record. “I will consider.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Hattie laughed and clapped her hands and beamed at him, making his chest swell and want to scoop her up and press her to his chest again. “I would love to look at your sparks again!”

Loki laughed and shook his head. “And I thought she was a simple mortal creature.”

“She is from Asgard, like you, my king,” Haldanson bowed his head, still looking slightly nervous. “And far too sure of herself for her own safety. Well. We’ll be off home. It’s getting late. It was an honour to meet you, my lord.”

Loki inclined his head as Haldanson bowed, then raised a finger as he urged Hattie to do the same.

“No,” he said, motioning for her to stand. “She doesn’t need to bow to me.”

Hattie laughed as Haldanson nodded weakly, then she sprang forward and clasped him. 

“Goodbye, Loki of Asgard. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I will come,” he promised, bending down. “If not tomorrow, then after that.”

He wouldn’t need to be told twice. Not even once. Not when she was staring up at him as though she was really glad to see him, as though he had the power to turn her day into something bright and warm with his cold, jotun hands which could only destroy and consume.

“Good,” she said, then reached up to hold his cheeks. “Good, good, good.”

He gently took her hands away before he had any strange spells again, swallowing. “Off you go, now.”

“Okay.” She patted his cheek, then flew back to her uncle and grabbed his hand. Haldanson nodded in reply to Loki’s look, bowed again for good measure, then picked Hattie up and turned.

Loki watched them disappear into the dark, raising a hand in farewell when Henrietta waved at him.

He stood there long in the dark, looking up at the sky.

Your hands are black. It’s blood. Of the people you’ve hurt.

Loki lifted his hands up to his face, squinting, but of course, he couldn’t see anything amiss. There were quite a few white scars running over his flesh from battle and feuds, but other than that they were as pale and slender as ever.

“Don’t be a fool,” he muttered, letting them drop. “It’s just a childish fancy.”

This childish fancy, however, left an impact upon him that only the next few years could tear from his soul, because it was only when Loki was back in Asgard, in his own empty, royal chambers did he realise that he was clutching the material of his clothes just above his heart, where Henrietta had slept, with a strange obstinacy and longing.

He sank down onto his bed with a sigh, trying to remember what it had felt like to hold someone who trusted him and… liked him. Not because they had to, but because they chose to.

But he was in too deep. He had set things in motion with Thor’s banishment to Midgard which he couldn’t undo, and had to give up hoping for warmth and succumb back to the cold he couldn’t survive without.

And he knew not that in a span of time insignificant to someone of his lifespan, he would become a traitor, that he would fall of Bifrost bridge upon realising that there was no place for him in Asgard, running from shame and Odin’s - his once-father’s - indifferent face, who watched him fall without blinking. That he would become unrecognisably twisted, that he would suffer agony beyond his imagination, that he would lose the trust of the one being who he treasured beyond all.

Though, what happened following that was something he wouldn’t have expected from any pages fate had written for him and if you asked him, he would have looked you in the eyes and solemnly replied that he was undeserving of a moment of it.

~~~*~*~*~~~

That's the first chapter! As always, feedback is appreciated!

[bi-astolfo]

A lot of people have been saying that Mantis is overpowered but at least it’s lore-accurate.

Showed up to the Avengers day one and immediately bitch-slapped Thor. Took down him, Black Panther and Cap within a minute. Immediately became the main character of the Avengers. Hooked up with Vision while he was still getting over Wanda. Had a double wddding with them. Became a tree.

Classic Mantis is crazy. None of this uwu feelings stuff like she does in the MCU. Just an impossibly amazing martial artist. A powerhouse Mary-Sue that everyone hated. She’s literally the writers OC in the sense of “um actually, that wouldn’t work on her because of x.” He took her with him when he wrote for other comics. She’s canonically in DC as Willow, a reality hopping traveler. Steve Engleheart just continued her story from where he left off in Marvel.

Just one of the craziest character stories in comics.

[synergysilhouette]

Guide to my Rewrites (and other content)

Upcoming hiatus

I post a lot of things, and some of those things are rewrites. As such, I thought this would be a nice guide for fans of my rewrites in particular. I'm still adding new things! Lemme know what you think.

Alternate Takes (Disney)

These are projects that have the same characters and settings (for the most part), but different plot points. These particular alternate takes suggest ideas that would've made me enjoy the movie more (or at all) and aren't a fanfic so much as bullet points with pictures.

Aida

Pocahontas

Hercules

The Princess and the Frog

Tangled

Frozen

Big Hero 6

Moana

Frozen 2

Raya and the Last Dragon

Encanto

Strange World

Wish (Note: working on a full-length rewrite unrelated to the ideas used here)

I also did rewrites for two Dreamworks movies:

The Road to El Dorado

Sinbad

Reimagining Disney Movies

These are projects that take Disney's framework (ie a fairy tale) and create my own characters, plot, setting, and song titles for it.

The Snow Queen

Kingdom of the Sun

Rapunzel

Reimagining Disney eras

These posts are designed based on what if Disney eras made different decisions (either based on my own ideas or rejected concepts) for their films. Note: I made the revival post before the renaissance and post-renaissance posts, so they kind of flow in different continuities. I also wanted to include future ideas for Disney's next era. These posts also work independent of my "Alternate Take" posts.

Reimagining the Renaissance

Reimagining the Post-renaissance

Reimagining the Revival era

Plotting out the Resurgence era

Plotting out the Resurgence Era (Part II)

Marvel

Not quite as detailed as my other rewrites, but I thought I'd include them.

Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness

Thor: Love and Thunder

X-Men (Because they have more content than my other Marvel things)

This pretty much just includes my rewrites.

X-Men: Evolution--New roster, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Roster (Timeskip), Season 4, and Season 5 (I did a poll months ago, and maybe I'll do a post brainstorming a Marauders spinoff).

Wolverine & the X-Men--New Roster, Season 1

Fox's X-Men films (I may remake this)--Part I (First 3 films) and Part II (Phoenix, NM, and Dark Phoenix)

Extensive rewrites

TV shows that I've remade episode-for--episode, perhaps removing and adding some as I see fit.

Miraculous Ladybug--Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4 (No longer doing Season 5; really fell out of love with the series, tbh)

Anime as comic books

Yes, this is a topic. I remember when I was in this headspace, and it was really fun. I basically reimagined what if popular anime had been created as superhero comic books that golden or silver age.

Dragon Ball

Naruto

Anime rewrites

Black Butler

Naruto: Part I (Part II is not cancelled; I just put it on the backburner)

High Card: Season 1 (Season 2 is not cancelled; I just put it on the backburner)

Video Game Rewrites

These aren't quite as detailed as my usual rewrites.

Bayonetta

Fire Emblem: Awakening

Fire Emblem: Fates

Fire Emblem: 3 Houses

Kingdom Hearts

Hogwarts Mystery (MAYBE; ongoing internal discussion)

My OCs

This section covers my original characters for a few fandoms. Thinking of making OCs for books/anime/comics, but I do not have the confidence that I know the universe(s) well enough.

Fictif

The Arcana

Hogwarts Legacy

Baldur's Gate 3

Mood Boards

Just something I've made for fun to inspire others! Not an expert on making them, but it was still something I wanted to do.

My Wish rewrite (temporary)

Disney's Swan Lake

Disney's Hansel & Gretel

Disney's Rumpelstiltskin

Disney's Red Riding Hood

Sub-Saharan Disney musical

Disney Superhero Film

Japanese Disney musical

Actors who could play Disney villains

Choices: Stories You Play

REALLY into this game for a period--but it started to get awful when "Witness" came into play. Here's a list of reviews (which I've stopped doing) as well as concepts for new books (originally on Reddit before I got banned).

"Before I Say I Do"

"Celebrity Status"

"Summoned to Court"

"Arkikara"

"Fairy Godparent"

"Hierarchy: Scheming University"

"Willow Falls"

"Late at Night"

"Spellcaster"

"Four"

"America's Most Eligible" (Review)

"Desire & Decorum" (Review)

"High School Story" (Review)

"Rules of Engagement" (Review)

"The Freshman" (Review)

"Queen B" (Review)

Winx Club Content

Rewriting the Winx

Rewriting the Specialists

Rewriting the Villains

Monster High Content

Plotting out Gen 4

Comic Book Content

Remaking Major X

Rewriting Iceman coming out

Making changes to Tim Drake

[drunkoffsmoke]

elliot's request page.

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about the writer. male, any prns. but mainly he/they, music + cats + sleep lover, trans 'n omnisexual. might add more later but for now this is enough.

rules.

1. remain respectful. i don't tolerate disrespect. if you're rude to me in any way, i won't be nice anymore. remember, i'm a mirror. i copy others behavior.

2. don't ask for fem reader. i strictly write for male and gender-neutral audiences. any fem aligned people, please don't interact.

3. be patient. i have a life outside social media. i'm a busy man, and sometimes i'd rather not spend my free time writing fanfictions or i simply won't feel motivated to write.

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fandoms.

COD (Call Of Duty).

könig, capt. price, ghost, soap, alejandro, valeria, farah, alex, rudy, nikolai, gaz, graves.

AOT (Attack On Titan).

eren, zeke, mikasa, armin, jean, connie, sasha, erwin, levi, hange, reiner, bertholdt, annie, pieck, porco.

SPIDERMAN (ITSV + ATSV).

miles, peter b., miguel, gwen, hobie, pavitr, noir, penny, the prowler (miles).

BEASTARS.

legoshi, louis, haru, juno, jack, bill, pina, melon, riz, gohin.

HTTYD (How to train your dragon).

hiccup, astrid, fishlegs, ruffnut, tuffnut, snotlout.

TLOU (The Last Of Us/Show).

joel, tess, tommy, marlene, ellie.

MARVEL. (CLOSED)

tony starks, capt. america, peter parker, thor, dr. strange, bucky, scarlet, deadpool, gamora, black panther, ant-man, star-lord, mantis, nebula, bruce, natasha, loki, hawkeye, falcon.

ARCANE.

vi, viktor, jinx, vander, silko, ekko, caitlyn.

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what i write.

smut

angst

fluff

headcanons

gore

lemon

platonic

multiple characters x reader

various au's

pretty much anything

what i don't write.

incest

non-con/rape

crossovers

minor x adult (both have to be at least 18.)

any weird kinks (such as piss kink, foot fetish etc)

character x oc

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a/n: this will get updated whenever, so be sure to always check before requesting.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

no, i haven't forgotten about the old requests—i believe there are four. i will get to them starting from tomorrow, 07/21. after i finish them my requests will be open (i deeply apologize to the people who had to wait so long in order to receive their fanfics).

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[goddess-mixmi]

Felt like indulging on some oc x cannon for my marvel oc.

She has quite a few romantic interests during the course of the marvel cinematic universe, one of which is Bucky Barnes. She met him when he was the Winter Soldier and after he was accused of killing king T’Chaka she convinced T’Challa to let them use the resources they have in Wakanda to help Bucky. And after that they became quite good friends during his stay in Wakanda. That led to Bucky growing small feelings for her from her kindness, but Imani on the other hand hadn’t been fully aware of it especially with her soon meeting Killmonger and afterwards causing a distance between them.

Despite her not knowing how he felt right away the two felt at ease in each other’s presence. There relationship progresses even more after the events of Endgame into The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, I just need to write more about it first.

[ashfluffys]

It isn’t really a request but I love the headcanons you have (so far, the alien features on hat kid/bow kid and any of the aliens, snatchers natural hair being black, and rift reflections leading to other dimensions) and I was wondering if you minded me stealing them? If I ever get around to drawing my AFIT AU I’d love to add different versions.. but that’s if I get to drawing them,,,

Anyways love your stuff, and the swap au MU x Hat Kid is really intriguing and cute. Makes me daydream about how my AFIT characters or my other AHIT ocs would act in other AUs..

AAAAA THANK YOU I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVE MY HEADCANONS AND MISERYGUTS' SWAP AU I ALSO LOVE THEIR AU however you do have the black haired prince headcanon mixed up from mothhue's snatcher headcanons, I just draw the prince with dark-brown hair! Either way though, if you ever wanna make similar headcanons to me or just straight up wanna tag me and draw my designs of hat/bow kid you are so welcome! Hell even my au's like papa thor (is that an au? maybe) and dweller's puppet are so welcome to be drawn as long as I'm credited for the idea!

[morally-grey-variant]

love is a dagger [loki x oc] [part one]

loki x oc

part one

[master post here]

Pairing: Loki x Original Character (she/they)

Setting: Canon goes out the window as Loki joins the Avengers Compound. He's not exactly "one of the gang" but, in a tentative truce with Thor, is allowed to live and train with the Avengers and other SHIELD agents living and working on the Compound.

Loki's trying to be better. Really, he is. But atoning for his crimes in the Battle of New York -- and processing more trauma than he has begun to comprehend -- hasn't been easy: Thor stuck his neck out to get him here and won't let him forget it. The other Avengers watch him like they expect him to spontaneously combust.

A particularly annoying SHIELD agent approaches him again and again during his solo workout sessions, insistent upon learning hand-to-hand combat and close-quarters weapons skills. Six months in, he's impressed by how far they've come, and falling for them... hard.

Summary: Six months into Agent Grey Forrest's precarious "are we more than friends?" alliance with the God of Mischief, he accidentally stabs her during a training exercise. (wc 2.6k)

(Grey Forrest - femme/nb, presenting androgynous femme, uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.)

Warnings: Later episodes become more explicit -- Minors DNI. Blood, hospital/surgery/sedatives/stitches, general angst, mild swearing, inferences of past trauma. (if I've missed something please let me know!)

(a cheesy title *and* an OC in my first ever Loki fic? we're going all in, agent. this one has floated around in a doc for a few weeks now and she's dying to see the light of day. future eps will include TWs for dark themes but right now she's a slow burn queen that might make you hate me a little. things will get smuttier, I promise.) inspired by the prompt, "loki accidentally stabs you while training."

My wrist pins Loki's arm against the concrete wall. 

“Checkmate.” 

Panting and grinning, I flick my ponytail back over my shoulder. My torso edges against his, the slick athletic material of my uniform sliding against his worn leather armor. Loki pants, his parted lips spilling hot breath across my face. The knife in my hand glints in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spilling over the blue plastic mat floor of the sparring room.

Loki's bright green eyes flash a half-second before he bodily shoves me aside, spinning us around. He pivots, and my wrist – still clutching my knife – is now locked into his grip. He twists it behind my back and tugs me into his chest. 

Loki's gold dagger finds my throat.

“Checkmate,” he growls playfully. 

Adrenaline spiking, my chest heaves. Damn him. Stupid mistakes like this will get me killed in the field. 

I raise my empty hand, reluctantly signaling surrender. I can practically hear the smug grin of success on his lips as he releases my other wrist, gently pushing me away.

My fingers spread in a gesture of mercy. As if I intend to let him have this one; he's bested me yet again. His answering grin, flashing a glimpse of perfect pearly whites, is infuriatingly confident. Cheeky. A fire blooms in my chest, even as my heart hammers with exhaustion.

He lowers his dagger, his own chest rising and falling beneath his heavily scratched black leather armor. Lulled into a false sense of security by his favorite sparring companion's unwavering surrender.

I lunge forward, taking advantage of that trust in my surrender. My knife strikes out towards his armored torso; my aim wavers, glinting off the worn brassy-gold panel at his waist. 

Loki snatches my arm, flicking it away effortlessly. “Cheating the Trickster?” he jabs, then vanishes in a blink of black smoke. We’ve both broken our rules of combat now: perfidy and sorcery.

“Little traitor.” He reappears to my left. My head spins, disoriented, as he lunges, and I parry backwards – 

His gold blade sinks into the slip of unarmored flesh at my side. Time slows around us as my gaze flutters from the blade to Loki’s face. His confidence melts into horror.

We gasp in unison as steel meets skin. My body recoils instinctively as blade strikes bone, glinting off my ribcage; the scratch against my rib resounds through my entire body. 

“Fuck,” I gasp. All the wind rushes out of my lungs. Loki's hand falters and his blade clatters to the floor. I clutch my ribcage as the room starts spinning around me.

“Grey, I'm so sorry,” Loki pants. He hesitates before stepping toward me, hands hovering over me, paralyzed by fear and indecision. Blood trickles between my fingers.

“Fuck,” I echo. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” My voice is soft in my throat and I can't stop repeating the curse. All my training flies out of my head as my stab wound leaks onto my uniform and drips onto the blue mat beneath my feet. Apply pressure. Get help. 

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I'm not alright,” I spit, finally gathering my bearings. “You fucking stabbed me!” He flinches away, but I’m too rattled to feel particularly guilty. I’m shaking all over, trying to grip the hem of my athletic shirt with my other hand. I tug, but the fabric doesn't give; I can't get a good grasp with my trembling fingers, but I need a cloth to apply pressure and soak up the blood, I need to get down to the medical wing and –

“Stop that,” Loki says. “Come here.” He conjures a white rag in a flash of green light and takes another step towards me.

Before I can so much as blink, he's lifting my bloodied hand from my torso and replacing it with his own. The cloth beneath his palm presses into my chest. One arm slopes across my shoulders, curling me towards him. 

I finally look up at him.

He hovers over me, brows pinched. His chest is still rapidly rising and falling beneath his scarred armor, huffing through his flared nostrils, lips pressed into a flat line. His dark curls spill over his forehead; through them, and his eyes flash up at me, now darkened by swollen pupils.

He looks every inch a kicked dog.

I lay my hand over his. “I've got it,” I murmur. My heart pounds again; unhelpful. Quickening my heart rate will only increase the blood flow.

“Right,” he answers in a soft voice, nodding once and releasing his palm, transferring the pressure back to my hand. “Grey, I never meant to hurt you,” he continues quickly. “My hand slipped. I’m sorry.”

“I need to get to the medical wing.” My vision blurs and shifts; there isn’t enough room in my head for apologies. Dark red quickly soaks through Loki's white cloth. I take a single step forward, but my leg shakes unsteadily. 

Loki stops me. “You're in no fit state to walk. Let me help you.” There's an urgency in his voice. Fear laces the edge of his words.

My breath hitches and shudders. “I can walk.”

“Damn it all, Grey,” he barks, gripping my arm. “Let me help you.” 

I jerk my head up, eyes wide. 

It's been a long time since I've been afraid of Loki. 

He clenches every muscle in his jaw, the sharp cut of his chin barely containing the multitude of biting comments forming there. But there's no fury in his eyes. Frustration, yes; but no anger.

It's fear. 

Black fear sours his expression. Loki, who perpetually radiates cocksure swagger and irritating arrogance, is reduced to a frightened, trembling hesitation.

“Please.” A gentler tone, firm but tender. The vice-like grip of his long fingers loosens. I nod. My head swims and I clutch my forehead with my free hand.

Loki scoops me into his arms. My world flips upside-down; I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of dizziness. Every step rattles my body, forcing me to bite back a groan of pain.

“I'm getting blood on your armor,” I say, tipping my head onto his shoulder. Anything to abate this dizziness; if I throw up on his armor, I’ll probably die of embarrassment – if the stab wound doesn’t get me first. The hand clutching my side, now pressed into his torso, feels sticky and wet. “Why am I losing so much blood?”

“Hush now,” he croons softly. My stomach churns.

I can't decide if it's from the stab wound, or from Loki. His arms curl around my body with strength and gentleness that might tear me apart. 

I can't stop picturing that fear in his eyes. Like a kicked dog. A dog who's been kicked over and over for the crime of loving. Who can't stop running back to whatever – or whomever – hurt him. 

I've never kicked this dog. Why is he afraid of me?

“I'm gonna be fine, Loki,” I murmur, my cheek pressed into a metal buckle of his training armor. I shift my head, tucking it into his chest. I'm getting tired. “Fine.” But my hand shifts against the wound and I can tell the cloth is soaked through.

Loki's chest rumbles, but I can't make out what he's saying. It's a frustrated noise, I know that much. He makes enough little noises of discontent that I've learned to differentiate between the sounds. 

Other voices fill the space around us. I think he’s telling someone what happened, though much of his voice is still a low rumble in his chest. My leaden head sinks into him.

Suddenly, he’s relinquishing me, laying me down on a hard, flat surface. It's my turn to grumble discontented noises. My arms stretch out back towards the safety of his, but other hands start prodding and grabbing at me. My eyes fly open, heart pounding again, I’m gasping for air–

“You're all right,” Loki murmurs in a low voice somewhere beside me. “They’re going to help you now.”

Medical staff swarm as the stretcher jolts forward. I squeeze my eyes shut again. Lights flash behind my eyelids at regular intervals. 

“Sir, were going to have to ask you to wait–”

“I'll stay right here, thank you.” 

The stretcher jerks to a halt. Fingers and needles pinch against my arm, unpleasantly shocking my brain in and out of the heavy sluggish fog. My athletic shirt tugs downward with a metallic snick of scissors– 

I blink my eyes open again, hands slapping against the hands and shears cutting through my clothes – no, stop, and I think the words gasp out of my throat but I can't be sure if I’m actually saying them out loud.

“Agent, we have to access the wound,” a voice snaps through the warbled haze. Someone pulls my hands away. My stomach flips – I can't freak out, if I freak out I'll lose control, I can't freak out, but now I'm totally freaking out – 

But then there's a gentle hand on my temple. “Let them help you.” Loki's voice is almost unfamiliar in its tenderness. A surge of bright electricity erupts in my heart, flooding through every vein and nerve ending; the blip, blip, blip of some machine in the room keeps pace. “You're safe here, Grey. Agent.” He tacks on the last word like a formality. An afterthought.

Although his gentleness sets my heart racing, his words have their intended effect. I don't fight back as the nurse cuts clean through my blood-soaked top, exposing my torso. Glancing down, I wish I hadn't when I see how my chest is smeared with blood. The nurse blessedly doesn't cut through my sports bra, since the wound seems to lie a few inches below the elastic band. 

Another warm, thick sensation spreads down my left arm, spilling down my fingers and out across my torso. My eyes drift closed again – everything feels better now. I can ignore the stinging of alcohol and iodine swabs around the wound, prodding fingers and soft gauze that catch against raw flesh. “It's a clean cut,” someone pronounces. Loki's hand stiffens against my temple. “Less than an inch deep, about two inches long.” A keyboard crackles as someone takes notes. 

“Agent Forrest,” someone asks, “we’re going to stitch up the wound now. All right?” 

“Mmm,” I hum, rolling my head so the elastic of my ponytail doesn't dig into my skull. Loki's thumb strokes against my temple. The needle and surgical thread tug against the tender skin over my ribcage, pulling and tightening and piercing over and over again.

Voices echo from down the hall. The warm, brain-addling sedative conjures up familiar characters for a dream half-rooted in reality. Shouting voices, and the tenor of someone familiar, authoritative, and very pissed right outside the door.

“You're fucking kidding me. You let him in there with her?” 

“Mr. Stark, the doctor is right in the middle of the procedure,” a female voice insists. 

“And I pay the doctor's salary,” Tony shouts as if he's right at my feet. I force my eyes open – I hate this dream. I don't want Tony in my dream. 

Oh. Red-faced and seething, what I can only assume is a very real Tony Stark looms over the end of my bed. Shame, and something like fear burn in my chest, tugging me to the surface of the drug-induced fog.

“Mr. Stark, I must insist, the patient's wound–” the doctor insists, turning his head but remaining hunched over my torso.

“Nurse, call security,” Tony barks. “Scratch that. I'll escort the threat out myself.”

“Tony, it's not what it looks like–” Loki says. His hand never leaves my head, cradling it tenderly even as he raises his voice. The doctor shakes his head and finishes up the last stitches.

“You fucking stabbed Agent Forrest?” Tony growls, lifting his arm – his finger trails along the metal cuff at his wrist, preparing to summon one of his suits. 

“Not in the hospital!” The nurse shouts, jumping to her feet. Her voice is weighted with enough authority that even Tony pauses. “Take it outside. We have seriously sick people here.”

“You let her attacker into the room with her,” Tony counters, thrusting a finger towards Loki. “He could slaughter all of you before you could scream for help.”

“He brought her here, Mr. Stark,” the doctor says, tying off the last stitch. “If he wanted to kill any of us, he's had plenty of time.”

“Tony…” I grumble. My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth. Loki's hand slips away from my temple. I shift my head as the cradle of his fingers disappears. My leaden skull feels like it’s swollen twice its size. “Too much morphine.” I blink hard, my brow creased in concentration. Why am I so loopy? “If Loki wanted t’kill me, I’d’ve killed him. I'm fine. 's an accident.” 

“We’ll take you off the IV,” the nurse explained, coming closer to pinch and prod at my arm. “The wound is fairly shallow.”

“See?” I raise my arm, gesturing to the nurse. “Fine.”

“You got lucky, Forrest. This man has stabbed more Avengers than not,” Tony counters, ignoring my morphine-drunk threat. “You have ten seconds before I throw you out that window, space man.”

“Stupid, Tony,” I grumble, growing frustrated. Bracing my forearms against the bed, I push myself up. Loki stops me before the nurses can so much as flinch.

“Lie down,” he says, finally stepping into my line of sight. 

“Oh my god, Loki,” I gasp, blinking hard. He's completely drenched in blood – my blood. My hand flies up to brush against the front of his armor.

He lowers a hand to brace against my chest before quickly reconsidering and pushing down on my shoulder. Soft green light flashes in my periphery and a pillow cushions the back of my head as he lowers me back onto the stretcher. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he continues urgently. 

I resign myself to a more horizontal position, but I still reach out towards him. IV tubes tug against my arm, but my hand rests flat against the blood-smeared leather protecting his torso. “Fuck… bled all over you.”

Loki smirks. His hand wraps around mine, lowering it back to my side. “An excuse to requisition something new from the armory,” he answers. His hands are coated in my blood, too. “Something with a bit more gold, perhaps?”

“Black and gold,” I hum. “Green’s more your color.”

“Are we done here?” Tony snaps, and my tunneled vision explodes back out into the room. I'd forgotten the room was full of people.

“Tony…” I murmur. My head is starting to clear somewhat. “Loki wasn't trying to kill me. It was an accident. My fault.”

“Mr. Stark, the patient needs to rest,” the nurse interjects, clipboard chart clutched in her hand. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Tony storms out. In the hall, I can hear him demanding to have a word with someone about hospital security.

Loki smirks down at me, though his face is still pale. Paler than usual.

“You too, Mr. Laufeyson,” the nurse adds. She wedges herself between us, forcing him to step to the side.

“No,” I groan. “Let him stay. Loki, stay with me. I hate it here.”

Loki's hand strokes my temple again. The nurse frowns down at me as she changes the IV. A new bag, heavy with dark blood, sags from the silver pole behind her.

“We finally got your blood type from your file,” she explains. “Your… friend can stay while you receive the infusion.”

Loki pushes back hair that clings to my forehead, still damp with drying sweat. “Don't leave, Loki.” I wince against the pinching sensations and beads of blood welling up as she removes the first line and places another for the blood.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

[continue reading in part two]