avenging-blackwidow
Marvel
After all, the first thing a sorcerer of quality learns is to make himself as difficult to kill as possible!
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"... so then I transformed back from the snake, said, 'Meh, it's me', and stabbed Thor."
Loki Portrait
Clip Studio Paint, hand painted.
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loki
No clue if I can reach marvel fans on here, but eh f it!
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Our family was never real, so there’s nothing to hold on to.
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“And I'd choose you, in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.”
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Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes
↳ The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021)
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Hawkeye (^‿^✿)
1.06 | So This Is Christmas?
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The hair
The fit
The sleeves
The stance
The FOREARMS
GOD
People hate on Dark World Loki’s fit I personally think we did not get enough of it 😤
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Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)
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Wanda Maximoff in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)
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And.... she's back!!!
I've missed this ahhhhhhhh
"I'm gonna burn this place to the ground." idk about you but to me that sounds like a good prompt for pre-dating idiots 👀
lol remember when the first trailer came out and we collectively lost our shit when loki said this?? aw. simpler times :’)
consider this the next part of pre-dating idiots!! woo!! pls be nice to me it’s been years
warnings: ooc?? I haven’t written for him in two (?) years?? injuries, pain, angst, the usual.
They’re both victims of the same incompetence, in all honesty.
A father who lied to them both, and a mother...
She was complicit.
Thor hates admitting it. Loki can’t decide if it makes things better or worse.
Thor needs to go see him. He knows it’s what needs to be done, and will have to happen eventually, but every time he approaches room 203, he just keeps walking and promises to do it tomorrow.
They have...too much to discuss. It’s intimidating.
Thor finds it too easy to use Loki’s necessary healing as an excuse not to disturb him.
You’re the one who finally make him do it, open the door and actually talk to him.
You’re on a business trip—managing some project on international relations following the attack on New York, from what he gathers—and won’t be back for about a month.
“Don’t let him ruin his progress,” you told him the day you left. “Please.”
At that, Thor dredged up enough conscience to feel bad for letting you think he’s been visiting Loki every other day.
You’re proud of him. It’s a good feeling.
He doesn’t want to lose it.
So he smiled and promised to keep his brother company, keep him smiling and healing and that he’ll be in even better shape when you return.
You’ll be back in a week and a half now, and he has yet to cross the threshold.
It’s only after Cap, Tony, and the others come to a decision with the local authorities and task him with breaking the news to Loki that he finally goes to him.
Even still, he doesn’t know where to start.
Loki is on his stomach when Thor walks in, still bedridden and bleeding with exhaustion in his gaunt eyes when he meets his gaze from the doorway.
“Come to gloat?”
His voice is hoarse—missing the tease, the careless grin and sly plot that used to tinge his words. It makes Thor bare his teeth in a slight grimace, wanting to be angry with him, fingers curled tight around the handle of mjolnir.
“I’ve come to...talk.” He clears his throat and takes the first shaky step towards the hospital bed. “We have much to discuss.”
“Well, consider me intrigued.” Loki’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, even smushed into his pillow. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”
“Stop that,” Thor snarls, taking a few more sudden steps towards him. “Now isn’t the time for–for...for you.”
“Ah. In that case, please, pull up a chair.”
He does, glancing around the room. It’s drab, with just one window and a hint of sunlight peeking through the closed blinds. An untouched tray of food sits on the bedside table.
They sit there in silence for too long before Thor speaks.
“You’re a frost giant.”
Loki just gives a hollow laugh. “That’s where you’d like to begin?”
“He lied to me, too,” Thor says. “I thought you were my—I thought you were Asgardian. My whole life.”
“That must have been difficult for you.”
“I—I knew you were different,” he pushes on, electing to ignore that jab, “I could see that, but you...”
“You trusted Odin completely, didn’t you?”
Thor nods slowly. “He’s my father. I...still do.”
At that, his brother turns his head to stare at the wall instead of him. He cut his hair. It’s choppy against his neck—Loki couldn’t have done it himself, not with his shoulder in that state and still in a sling.
“Odin,” comes Loki’s hiss, “raised us to hunt frost giants.”
Thor straightens in his seat, frowning at the back of his brothers head. “He raised us to be warriors, wary of likely enemies.”
“He raised us to kill. He gave you the power to destroy their entire realm.” His head flips over on the pillow to reveal painfully bloodshot eyes, and he shoves a finger at the hammer in Thor’s hands. “Don’t tell me that was benevolence. He took their lifeforce, held a threat over their heads, and called it peace.”
Swallowing thickly, Thor’s gaze drops to the hammer. His next words are out before he can think better of them.
“And yet I wasn’t the one who tried to destroy their realm.”
Loki falls silent again, gaze burning into Thor’s, glistening, his jaw clenched tight. A vein near his temple bulges, and Thor wishes he could take it back. Wishes Loki hadn’t begged him to fight him, hadn’t let go all those months ago.
“Leave,” Loki chokes.
Thor clears his throat. “I came to tell you that the council has come to a decision on your sentence.”
“Leave,” Loki just says again, gathering the sheets in a shaking fist. “Get out.”
“Stark and the Captain spoke with Midgardian authorities, and they decided you must serve a sentence here before being turned over to Asgard.”
“Just passing me around, are you—”
“You broke the law,” Thor grits out, rising to his feet. “You killed people, you destroyed buildings, you tried to destroy an entire realm—”
“And I killed my true father,” Loki hisses, trying to push himself up on the hospital bed. “I abducted Clint Barton and made him kill for me. I let Jotuns into our palace on your coronation day, knowing they craved blood. I lied to Frigga, I stole the throne, I committed treason, I—”
“Then you see what must be done,” Thor cries, flinging a hand towards him. “You know you’re unstable, you need—you need help!”
“I wake up every single day,” he spits, heaving himself into a sitting position, “disappointed that I’m still breathing. I’ve tried to end it, I’ve tried it myself, I’ve even brought that–that mortal into it, and she couldn’t even kill me.”
“Oh, that’s an entirely different discussion—”
“So what is it?” Hunched forward with his arms hugging his knees, Loki stares at him. Those eyes are empty—Thor hoped to at least see pain in them. “What is my punishment? Am I to be executed, or are we saving that special event for Odin and Frigga?”
“Don’t,” Thor growls. His fist tightens around mjolnir. “They still protected you and raised you as their own. You owe them that much.”
Loki gives a hollow, rattling laugh. “Odin raised me like a prize boar for slaughter. He told me. He wanted to use me to unite our realms. I’m no better than the last empty treaty he wrote.”
“He spoke of us as equals,” Thor quietly argues. “Weren’t you happy? As a child? We...we had fun. I know we did.”
Loki swallows thickly, casting his gaze towards the ceiling.
I know we did. The two of them were inseparable, through every phase of their life. Thor’s friends were Loki’s, and the merry little group had centuries of adventures, victories, parties they shared with him. Frigga and Odin had loved the two of them as their sons, as their sons equally. He knows it.
“Can you even fathom your reality being a lie?”
Thor blinks, wishing Loki would look at him.
“No,” Loki laughs softly, “you can’t.”
Thor stands abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. “You’ll lead a life of misery and disappointment,” he says, “if you keep thinking the worst of everyone. Especially yourself.”
Loki laughs again—it’s missing all humor. “Oh, fuck off.”
“Fine.” Thor stiffens, his jaw clenched painfully. “On behalf of Midgardian officials, you are sentenced to five years imprisonment and full responsibility for damages caused by your insurrection. After those years, you will return to Asgard with me for your trial.”
“Lovely. Looking forward to it.”
That’s the final straw—that, and how Loki closes his eyes and relaxes back onto his pillow, seemingly unbothered.
Thor surges forward with a snarl and grabs Loki by the shoulders, shoving him back against the pillows.
“You could at least pretend to regret this,” he seethes, giving his brother a good shake. “If you even gave our father half of an apology, an explanation, we could move past this.”
Eyes wide but jaw firmly set, Loki struggles against him, trying to wrench his injured arm from Thor’s grip. “Oh, please,” he grunts, “it’s been nearly a year since I came back from the dead. Neither of my so-called parents have expressed the slightest interest in seeing me.”
Thor’s grip tightens—Loki grits his teeth, biting back a whimper of pain as his fingertips dig into a barely scabbed wound.
“I wanted to apologize to you,” Thor admits, his chest heaving with the effort of holding Loki pinned. “But I don’t know if you even want that. Or deserve it.”
“Let go of me.”
He doesn’t.
Still writhing, Loki’s lips curl back, and he throws his head forward, bracing for the inevitable pain. His forehead hits Thor’s chin with a loud crack, and Thor staggers back with a shout—Loki’s not in much better shape, blinking rapidly to clear the spots that blur his vision.
“Five years,” Loki hisses, “is nothing to you and I.”
“Your true punishment will be from Asgard,” Thor replies harshly, a hand to his jaw as he stumbles towards the door. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Well, when we go home,” Loki spits, his hands shaking, “Maybe I’ll burn that place to the ground.”
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