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stewardofningishzida · 4 months

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Stephen Strange Meta-Fic Sequel — Chapter 16: The Trials

It’s time for Stephen’s apprentices to advance and achieve Master Rank! What challenges will they face? Also, our cast of characters has expanded again. ;-)

TRIGGER WARNING: Scary situations, bad language.

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Chapter 16: The Trials

*After Broken Stephen’s return to his home universe, we focus hard on preparing for our Master’s Trials. Loki visits a few times to help us with a few key points, as well as showing us a bit extra while Stephen and Wong are busy. The Trials come upon us quickly and although we’re nervous and fully know what to expect, we did our best to study and get ready. I feel a bit nauseous, but want to get this done.*

Me (tense): So…we ready?

Trix (slightly woozy): Honestly, this is feeling way worse than my bachelor’s.

Prettywitch: Same.

Me: At least the written portion shouldn’t be that bad, right? *I try to give a hopeful smile.*

Trix: Oh god, those were always my worst in school because I’d psych myself out. *She starts to panic slightly*

Me (soothingly): Whoa, whoa. Breathe, Trix. Slow, deep breaths in and out. We’ve been studying for weeks. It’ll be okay. *I pat her back.*

Trix (calming): Right. Deep breaths. I’m the book and word person, this is no problem! *Trying to hype herself up.*

Prettywitch: Good. Just keep telling yourself that and you’ll be fine.

Me (taking a deep breath): Okay…Let’s get this done. We know the material. Hell, we’ve been through enough weird stuff to have at least an idea for each thing anyway. All I know is that it’s a written portion and 2 practicals. One of them is solo and the other is as a team. So, catch you on the flip side?

Trix (smirking slightly): Godspeed Spider-Man! *She gives a small two-finger salute.*

Prettywitch: *Laughs.*

*I return the salute, Marine Corps-style, and then we go into a repurposed meditation room that they turned into an exam hall for our written portion. Wong and Stephen have us sit a fair distance from one another and hand us the papers. The written exam is underway. We have 3 hours with a break halfway through. It’s long and tough, but it’s a comprehensive review of everything we’ve been taught. Most of it is theory, but some of it is safety guidelines and practical knowledge just to make sure we know what we’re doing before the practical. We emerge from the first exam already tired. My head is throbbing.*

Trix: Oh god, written exams are hell.

Me: …I need painkillers.

Prettywitch: I need a hot bath and a decent night's sleep when we’re done. I hate studying!

Me: …Did they say anything about when the practicals are scheduled?

Trix (pauses):……no…and that has me suddenly concerned because I was so nervous about the written portion that I didn’t think about that part.

Me: Let’s at least get some food and water. Make it quick. I don’t like the way they were both watching us after the written exam.

Prettywitch: Okay. Okay. I’ll just grab myself some water.

Trix: *Pulling out her sling ring* Trust no one. *She opens a portal to the kitchen and peeks through before swiping some snacks.*

*I accept them and rapidly down some water, painkillers, and a couple of snacks. Right now, I’m doing it quickly because none of us knows what’s coming or when.*

*We notice some sparks erupting beneath us.*

Me: Oh shi-

Trix (yelling): I knew it-

Prettywitch: Oh no…

*The three of us land in a large space. We expected a training room, but this seems more like an open battlefield out in the middle of nowhere. There are natural settings around us. A few boulders, some scattered trees, and a small stream are nearby.*

Stephen: Adepts Prettywitch, Trix, and Steward; you three are hereby challenged by your Masters to a duel. We will test your skills and mettle as potential Masters. By the will of the Vishanti, let this duel commence! *He immediately casts the Flames of the Faltine at us, launching a wall of fire.*

*Trix jumps into action by casting a shield dome of crystal to cover the group.*

*Wong is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, the ground proceeds to crack open beneath the three of us as Wong swiftly ambushes us from below. I telekinetically thrust down to force him back into the rapidly-forming hole and us into the air. Trix quickly closes the shield into a sphere while we’re in the air.*

Trix (shouting): What’s the plan?!

Me: Incapacitate them as quickly as possible! Whoever looks most vulnerable at any given time, we go for it!

PrettyWitch: Got it!

Trix: *The sphere is now floating for a moment before it begins to plummet* I’m going to release this and go offensive!

Me: Right behind you!

PrettyWitch: *Forms a shield to protect Trix.*

*Trix breaks apart her shield but instead of dispersing the crystals, she condenses and summons them to her, creating a sort of crystal armor of orange and violet. She immediately directs her attention to Stephen and aims at him as she increases her falling speed.*

*Within half a second, a familiar red blur flies right at her, fully open to envelop Trix. The additional shield is quickly dispatched by the relic. Within a second, she allows herself to fall out of the crystal and continue falling, leaving the cloak to hold her previous shell.*

*Meanwhile, I use the Winds of Watoomb to blow a powerful air current down Wong’s pit to keep him there and direct Prettywitch to send the water of the stream into the hole to flood it. Prettywitch allows the water to surround Wong and uses the Winds of Watoomb to trap him inside an ice sculpture.*

*Wong allows himself to be pushed down while trapped in the ice. It seems like it worked when he falls out of view, but seconds later, he erupts out of the ground behind us. He appears to rush at Prettywitch and me, but at the last second, he leaps in an attempt to have a go at Trix, complete with the Chains of Krakkan open and ready to attempt to capture her.*

*Trix quickly opens up a portal that takes her from her free fall to popping up from the ground behind him so she’s going upwards again.*

*Wong quickly kicks out behind him to try and sweep Trix’s leg out from under her as she emerges. It makes contact and she spins as she is catapulted upward again but takes the moment of weightlessness to right herself before creating another ball of crystal around her to fall again.*

*I release my telekinesis to save energy and begin to fall, but as I do, I cast the Images of Ikonn. Soon, there are a dozen duplicates of myself and when they land, we all dart in different directions. Some of us head for Wong and others for Stephen. One of them casts Winds of Watoomb again to kick up a cloud of sand at Stephen’s face. He shields himself before casting the Icy Tendrils of Ikthalon, taking a swing at any duplicates that come nearby to vanquish them in a poof of air. Wong casts the Bolts of Balthakk to eliminate more of them. However, now I’m nowhere to be found.*

*Prettywitch conjures several ribbons she forms into one giant cannon aimed at Wong.*

Prettywitch: Tiro Finale!

*Wong notices the cannon and quickly chants another incantation, suddenly becoming ethereal. The blast passes harmlessly through him. Once he draws breath again, he goes back to normal.*

*As the sphere begins to fall again, it begins to thicken and there’s a shadow where Trix is in the center. She takes aim at Wong this time and it shoots down at the sorcerer below. Other than some reflective light, the obscured crystal orb continues its descent.*

*Wong rolls out of the way and casts multiple shields in its path in an attempt to slow it down. Privately, he makes a note to chide Trix for her recklessness.*

*The crystal sphere just punches through each of the shields like a cannonball, not slowing in its descent as it continues its trajectory. The sun reflects off of it, showing a couple sparks of light but it doesn’t look like it’s changing course.*

*Stephen is taken aback by what’s going on. He’s on-guard for the other apprentices, but is concerned for Trix. He redirects the stream to form a pool to cushion the sphere’s descent.*

*It does nothing as the sphere slams into the ground, shattering on impact in thousands of shards of crystals as a body can barely be seen through it all, bouncing lifelessly at the impact but immediately covered in the giant pile of shattered crystals.*

*Both sorcerers go silent and Wong rushes to check on Trix. When he goes to look, there’s only a crystalline dummy nestled within the wreckage. His expression goes quickly from concern to stunned, but as he’s looking at the dummy, I dispel my invisibility spell, casting the Mists of Morpheus on him from behind. Wong lets out a grunt of annoyance before falling over unconscious. Now, it’s just Stephen and the Cloak left.*

*PrettyWitch conjures her makeshift staff, again. Only instead of the Sealing Wand, it’s Sakura’s wand from Clear Card. So she conjures one of the Clear Cards.*

Prettywitch: Lucid! *The card cloaks her, making her invisible to Stephen’s eye. She then pulls out another. * Siege! *She traps Stephen inside the magic box.*

*Trix suddenly appears out of a portal above the cloak and casts a Conjurer’s Sphere, trapping the relic inside. The Cloak attempts to escape, throwing itself futilely against the walls of the Sphere.*

Trix: Sorry!

Me: Gotta catch ‘em all, Trix.

Prettywitch: Exactly. All’s fair in love and war.

*Trix takes the opportunity to fall into another portal to slow down her descent. She doesn’t reappear immediately.*

*Stephen is surprised by this new development. We turn to face him. In the meantime, he’s been mentally probing the box and smirks, using his Sling Ring to portal out. He takes a step forward to watch us with an almost amused look. However, he doesn’t attack. At least not yet.*

Me (purring): So, one Master left…

*Stephen watches us quietly. He thinks I’m about to start monologuing and casts the Images of Ikonn. Immediately after that, the duplicates all cast the Clamps of Containment at us, attempting to chain us from every angle. I was, however, paying attention and cast the Shield of the Seraphim around us, blocking his assault.*

*Prettywitch digs her fingers into the ground and gives birth to two, giant hands made of roots that fly towards Stephen and grabs hold of him.*

*The “Stephen” that was grabbed poofs away. Meanwhile, the real Stephen casts the Flames of the Faltine, burning the root-hands to a crisp. His guard is back up as he keeps an eye on what we’re doing. The duplicates start to surround us. Though they can’t get through the shields.*

Me (smoothly, to the real Stephen while still holding the shield up.): Did you honestly think you’d catch me monologuing? *I look smug.*

Stephen (curled lip): What was that line that The Ancient One used on me all of those years ago again? Oh yeah…”Silence your ego”. *He snaps his fingers and turns my shield into a swarm of blue butterflies before getting ready for another cast.*

Trix: *She appears next to Steward from a portal* You have to admit the ego is warranted in this case!

*He jumps back, startled, and watches both of us carefully. I cast the Bolts of Bedevilment at him and he conjures a shield to dispel my attack. Stephen is suspicious of Trix, seeing as she hasn’t done anything yet.*

*Trix tries to conjure some Crimson Bands of Cytorakk but only some sparks happen and she pales.*

Trix (exhausted): Shit. *She stumbles slightly*

*PrettyWitch gets an idea and conjures another Clear Card and stores it for later. In the meantime, she pulls out Neptune’s hand mirror.*

Prettywitch: Submarine Reflection! *A giant stream of water is sent blasting towards Stephen.*

*Stephen quickly conjures a shield around himself to withstand the blast and have air. Remembering his duplicates, he sends his images after us, but as they close in, I inhale and cast the Flames of the Faltine around us, blasting them away.*

*Suddenly, Stephen hears someone behind him but it’s too late.*

PrettyWitch: *She pulls out the card she’d stored away and activates it.* Snooze!

*As PrettyWitch casts the spell on Stephen, Trix lets her illusion of herself fade away from next to Steward. She was actually back by Wong, just in case. Stephen falls unconscious.*

*After a minute, Wong stirs and awakens.*

Wong (groggy, but direct): Congratulations. You three have passed the written and teamwork aspects of the Trials.

Trix (exhausted): Oh thank the Vishanti! *She allows herself to plop on the ground.* You guys are scary. *She releases the Cloak* Sorry buddy, but I had to!

*It zips over and nuzzles Trix gently, evidently forgiving her.*

PrettyWitch: Awe! How cute!

Me: Phew…Okay, sweet…*I’m stubbornly trying to stay standing and look triumphant.*

*Wong turns to look at Trix. It’s hard to read his expression.*

Wong: That stunt with the sphere was extremely reckless. I do not want a repeat of it again, understood?

Trix (raising a finger): Is it still reckless if I was out of the sphere before it even got to terminal velocity that last time? If anything, I think it worked perfectly and I was never in any danger!

*Wong stares her down for a tense moment.*

Wong (grumbling): Fine, but do not scare us like that again.

*Trix’s bottom lip pushes out as she gets emotional that Wong was worried before she scrambles up and runs to give him a hug.*

Trix: Don’t worry! I wouldn’t do that again because an enemy wouldn’t care if I got hurt or not. I didn’t mean to scare you that badly as a distraction.

*Wong grunts as he gets glomped, but lets her. He reluctantly pats her on the back.*

Wong (begrudgingly proud, but subtle about it as always): Well done, then. It was…effective, to say the least.

*Trix blushes before letting go.*

PrettyWitch: *She looks over towards the good doctor.* So what are we going to do about Stephen?

Me: I’ll see if one of us needs to wake up Stephen. Just a sec.

*I go check on him. He’s starting to wake back up.*

Stephen: Ergh…*He shakes his head and looks up at us.* Congratulations, girls. You passed the team practical. By Vectron’s Kindly Claw, my back…*He gets up and stretches.*

Trix (from her spot next to Wong): Looks like someone is feeling their age. *She’s teasing.*

Stephen (sarcastic): Very amusing. *He gets serious for a moment.* That stunt with the crystal sphere-

Wong: I already lectured her, Strange. She won’t do it again.

Stephen: Good. I’m proud of you girls. Keep going, but let’s please try not to give us both heart attacks, shall we?

Trix: I mean, it worked…and Wong hugged me but you were unconscious so……

PrettyWitch: Yeah…Sorry about that…

Me (teasing gently): We love you both too.~

Stephen: *Remembering something.* Ah. Right. The Second Trial has passed. Only the final one remains. I hereby declare this duel over. *He bows to us to indicate that we have met their challenge and passed this Trial. Wong does the same. My face flushes at the praise and ceremony. This feels weird to me, but I’m happy. I still feel awkward just standing there. So, I bow back to show respect towards both of them. Stephen gives me a small smile in response.*

Trix: *She’s grinning as she bows to both Wong and Stephen. Exhausted, Trix is running on fumes and praise but isn’t going to last much longer.*

Prettywitch: *She bows and decides she needs to check on Stephen and make sure she didn’t cause him any harm after.*

Stephen: *Touched by Prettywitch’s concern* It’s okay. I’m fine, really. *He looks at the three of us.* We’ll call it a day for now. I think you’ve more than earned a rest.

Me: Thank you…*I wobble slightly, but remain stubborn for a moment before opening a portal directly to our quarters.*

Trix: Yeah, my legs won’t even get that far. *She opens a portal behind herself without looking and trust falls into her bed before closing the portal.*

*I watch tiredly and try to move through the portal I created. My legs are no longer responding despite my desire to walk normally. I sigh.*

Me (resigned): Okay. Fine. Yeah. Trix had it right. *I copy her move and land on my bed with a pained grunt.*

*Prettywitch gets into bed and decides to listen to relaxing shower sounds on her phone to help herself relax and take a nap.*

Stephen (to Wong): They make a great team. I was worried at first, but I think they’ll be okay.

Wong: Now to see how they handle things on their own. You know as well as I do that they will have to work separately too on occasion.

Stephen: Tomorrow, Wong. Let them rest.

Wong: It could realistically happen at any time-

Stephen (giving him a look, knowing his friend is just as tired as he is): Do you REALLY want to arrange their last Trial tonight?

Wong (stifling a yawn): Not really…

Stephen: Then tomorrow.

Wong: Fine.

Stephen: Good night, Wong.

Wong: Night, Strange.

*They also retreat to their respective quarters. The night passes uneventfully. In the morning, we’re still achy from yesterday. Stephen greets us after breakfast, still looking a bit worse for wear himself.*

Stephen: Good morning, ladies.

Trix (sleepily): Sup! *She is facedown on the table but giving a weak thumbs up.*

Me (mumbling into my coffee cup): Mornin’…

Prettywitch: Morning, Stephen.

Stephen: It’s time I showed you a trick that the Masters use to maintain their stamina and relieve aches from previous battles. It takes a bit of time and one cannot always afford this luxury, but there are some hotsprings with healing properties hidden away in the mountains here. They are typically used after prolonged fights and during the rare day off. I think a momentary soak this morning will be invaluable to you three before your final Trial.

Trix (her head lifting up): Stephen, I think I just fell in love with you, though my allegiance is still with Wong.

Stephen (patting her head, lip curled): Points for honesty, I suppose.

Me (still slurring my words from fatigue): I’d like that, yeah. Thanks, Stephen.

Prettywitch: Yes, thank you. My neck could really use it; I think I’m starting to get a tension headache from how clenched it is.

Stephen: I will meet you three in the courtyard momentarily.

*We finish our meal and summon our towels before meeting Stephen. He opens a portal and guides us through. Despite the icy wind buffeting the slopes of the Himalayas, this spot is warm and the gale-force winds are suddenly reduced to a gentle breeze. The area of the hot springs, though surrounded by the rugged mountain environment, is encircled by soft grass and gently-sloping blossoming trees. Steam rises slowly from the pools of water. I look at the water longingly.*

Stephen: Go ahead, girls. *He turns to let us change and get into the springs.*

*I change as quickly as I can, aching joints permitting, before carefully lowering myself into the water up to my neck.*

Trix (as she’s changing): I think we just found out the best Master’s perk. We need to find our own hot springs at home, just saying.

*She finishes changing and slips into the water up to her nose as she practically melts in the water*

Me (eyes closed lazily): Amen to that…

Prettywitch: *She slowly dips herself in, allowing herself to adjust to the heat little by little until she finally rests her head on the soft rock beneath.*

Stephen: I’ll let you girls relax for a while. I’ll be back to warn you before your Trials.

Me: Mm’kay.

Trix: My true enemy will be the lack of hot spring.

PrettyWitch: You can say that again.

*We soak quietly, enjoying the peace for a while. It feels so good. I feel the knots in my muscles steadily loosening as the warm water does its work. The weightless environment of being submerged also relieves my joints. I let out a quiet, relaxed sigh of happiness from not being in pain.*

Trix: Yeah, I understand why this is Master’s only. It’s like the adults only area on a cruise ship. *She smirks* Good thing we’re spoiled by our masters for letting us in here early.

Me (eyes still closed): Yep…*I’m too relaxed to talk much right now.*

Prettywitch: Yeah. Might be a fun way to get Stephen and Clea together. *She smiles happily at the thought.*

*After around 20 minutes, Stephen comes by to check on us.*

Stephen: How are we feeling?

Trix: Best secret spot ever.

Me: Much better. We really appreciate this.

Prettywitch: Fuck yes…

Stephen: Good. It’s time you got back. I can’t say exactly when your final Trials will be, but they’re soon. All of you need to get ready.

Trix:…can we get ready without leaving the hot spring? *She’s only partially joking.*

Me (mildly reluctant, but acquiescing): Okay. Let’s do this, then. *I start shuffling to prepare to get up.*

Prettywitch: Ah, okay.

Stephen: I’ll come back to get you in 5 minutes. Go ahead and get changed back into your robes. *He leaves again.*

*Trix reluctantly gets out of the hot springs and changes. She uses a spell to dry her hair so it doesn’t freeze.*

*I do the same, though I had kept my head above water and my hair in a bun on top of my head because it frizzes easily when wet.*

*Prettywitch simply magics a hair clamp into her hand and puts her ponytail on top of her head, so as to let whatever did get soaked dry.*

*Stephen comes back and takes us back to Kamar-Taj. For a moment, we expect to be either called or ambushed, but after around 20 minutes, we decide to go about our own business. Then, Trix gets a psychic message.*

Wong (psychic contact): Trix, your final Trial is about to begin. Meet me in the library.

Trix (psychic contact): Okay!

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*She cautiously heads to the library and peeks her head in before carefully looking for Wong.*

Wong: Some of the more cursed tomes need to be cleansed on occasion. I saved this one for you. Follow me.

*She begins to follow him.*

Trix: I’m a bit surprised that we’re doing this in the library still. Unless you’re using a containment area that’s hidden only to masters as well.

Wong: An astute observation. This particular volume is contained within its own pocket dimension. Not to forbid others from reading it, but to keep it from actively corrupting those who come across it. *He utters a brief spell and the area in front of them starts to warp and shimmer. He gestures for Trix to head in.*

Trix (deadpan): Lovely. *She steps inside.*

Wong (from outside, his voice becoming distorted as she enters): Good luck!

Trix (startled that he’s not even going to be in there): Wait-

*Her head starts to ache as the aura of the cursed tome permeates her mind. As it begins to weave its influence, vague figures begin to dance in her vision. They start out misty before rapidly gaining shape.*

Trix (wincing): Alright, first thing’s first. *She casts a spell to purify herself and takes a brief moment to focus in her mindscape where she was once trapped. After setting some fortifications, she’s back in the real world where she stares down her opponent.*

*It appears to be Loki, looking at her in disappointment.*

“Loki”: I should have known better than to mentor a clueless mortal girl. You don’t even know how far you’re in over your head.

Trix: You should have known better than to try and use the biggest mother hen other than Stephen to pretend to be disappointed in me.

*She summons a large blank tome, each page backed with custom runes and mandalas that she has been testing out. As she opens the book, she raises her hand and pages fly out, encircling “Loki”. With a gesture, they gain runes on the side facing the fake god.*

*”Loki” claps his hands, the sound echoing everywhere throughout the pocket dimension. The pages turn to sheets of crystal before falling to the ground and shattering. Trix hears another, unfortunately familiar voice in her ear.*

“Agatha” (purring): Too easily distracted, my pet. *She jerks back and slaps Trix. Hard.*

*Trix snarls in anger as she summons her own magic to form crystalline claws on her fingertips.*

Trix (angrily): You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this, but first I have to find that bitch book so I can permanently take care of you. *She pauses for a moment to cast a locator spell, while also staying alert of “Loki” and “Agatha”.*

*She hears mocking laughter around her. Meanwhile, the locator spell seems to bounce all over the place.*

Trix (slightly resigned): Lovely. To be expected, I guess. *She glances over at her company before thinking better of it. Instead she tries to focus on casting to see if she’s inside the book or if it’s an object she has to locate.*

*The wave of energy that she releases in her cast goes a distance before seemingly dispersing into thin air. As though it hit a wall and dissolved.*

Trix (relieved): Gotcha. *Creating a shield between her and the distractions, she creeps up to the invisible wall and searches for any magic that could be what’s causing this.*

*It feels as though a shadow is somehow behind her eyes. Perhaps a fragment still trying to worm its way inside. Meanwhile, as she looks, the many-faceted cage of enchantments blurs. However, the shimmering blurriness seems oddly…regular? Upon closer inspection, she can see that the boundaries of the pocket dimension itself are made of words. Some of which are from runes so archaic that she’d need ages more of studies to decipher them.*

Trix: Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. *She sets up a large barrier between her and the fake Loki and Agatha before focusing on her mindscape once more. It seems…hazier. Trix takes some time to fortify her mind and put up some protections and barriers before returning back to her task.*

*She hears what seems to be her own thoughts. They’re faintly in the back of her head.*

“Why bother? There’s only going to be more problems. You can’t solve everything and you can’t always have others save your ass.”

Trix (calmly): See, intrusive thoughts, that’s where you’re wrong. If anything I can always bullshit my way out of anything if I can’t figure out the ‘right’ way.

*She extends the crystalline claws over her entire hands as protection as she tries to peel back the first layer of enchantments as she pours power into her gloves.*

*The enchantments spread onto her gloves like ink, rapidly beginning to eat away at the crystals as though they were acid.*

Trix (blinking in surprise): Okay, alternate tactic. *She summons her tome once more and places it on the ground in front of her before trying to magically coax that enchantment to latch on the blank book instead*

*With the apparent curiosity of a colony of ants, the runes begin to flow onto the pages. With this new position, some gaps and errors become apparent in the spells, some completely changing the meanings and effects.*

Trix (grinning): Alright. Time to go big or go home. *She creates duplicates of her original empty book after placing cleansing runes on the spines of the books before repeating the process of coaxing the enchantment into a new environment so she can break up the influence on the pocket dimension.*

*The walls begin to warp more and the figures lose their corporeal forms. The intrusive thoughts still manifest, but they sound more…tinny?*

“Still overlooking crucial details. As usual.”

Trix (calmly): Chill out, I’m getting there. Gotta go step by step. *After the walls are down, she takes a look at words and runes and other writings before she begins to fix them by using her magic to warp the incorrect markings to the correct ones. She takes her time and is methodical, making sure that all the details in a section are correct before moving onto the next one. After a while and after multiple double checks, she finally finds no more flaws.*

*As Trix works, the walls have faded more and more. By the time she finishes, she’s simply standing back in the library with Wong watching her closely.*

Trix (realizing where she is): Oh. Hi! *She pauses a moment before prodding him gently with her magic to make sure he’s real first.*

*Wong looks her up and down and then nods approvingly.*

Wong: Good. It seems you have learned well.

Trix: Well, it pays to have a great teacher.

Wong (smirking slightly): Flattery will not earn your promotion today, but your skills have proven your worthiness. Congratulations, Master Trix.

*Trix grins as she bows out of respect first before launching at him in a hug after a moment.*

Trix (excitedly): Thank you!

*He is ready for Trix this time and accepts the hug for once.*

Wong: Yes, yes. I know. *He untangles himself from her grasp.* Now you may don your new robes. Here. *He summons an ornate garment box and bestows it upon Trix with a bow of his own.*

Trix: I will! Thank you again! *She excitedly pulls out her sling ring and portals to her room to change.*

*He lets out his customary grunt of acknowledgement.*

Wong: You may wait for your friends wherever you see fit.

*Trix nods before she closes the portal and changes into her new robes.*

*They fit perfectly and look very flattering, not to mention are incredibly comfortable. The predominant color is dark green and it has patterning and trim reflecting the orange and violet of her soul’s aura. It is done tastefully without being garish. The tag inside of the clothing to indicate its owner has her name in Norse runes to reflect her allegiance with Loki. The trim itself is a Norse geometric pattern, delicately done throughout the edges of the garment. It is enchanted to keep Trix dry and at a comfortable temperature regardless of environmental conditions.*

Trix (in awe as she stares in the mirror): I see why they never change out of their usual robes now. I’m rarely going to take this off. This is beautiful! *She giggles to herself before opening a portal to the cafeteria since she believes Steward and PrettyWitch would have likely wandered to other parts of Kamar-Taj. After grabbing a light snack, she settles in and waits.*

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*Meanwhile, I’m looking at some last-minute additions to some enchantments while sneaking in a quick lunch. I always like to do a bit extra. So, even though I had decent coverage before, I want to do more just in case. As I still have a bit of my sandwich raised to my mouth, I’m contacted psychically by Stephen.*

Stephen (psychic contact): Steward, please report to the courtyard for your Trial.

Me (psychic contact): On it.

*I send my books away and promptly get up to meet Stephen, who’s waiting for me. He has his Sling Ring at the ready.*

Stephen: Adept Steward, are you ready to undergo your final Trial?

Me (serious): Yes, Sir.

*He opens the portal to usher me through.*

Stephen: Good luck.

*He doesn’t follow me through.*

*The area is completely dark except for a small lantern lit with a candle resting on the ground next to a handwritten note. The cobblestone floor is damp and uneven and the air is stale but somewhat damp. A stifling aura completely smothers the entire place.*

*I listen intently for any sounds while casting a scanning spell to figure out what’s in the area. Looking down, I see the lantern and cautiously approach it, watching my surroundings and still remaining silent. When I see the note, I quickly pick it up, not wanting to leave myself vulnerable for long. While in the light of the lantern, I read it.*

It reads:

You have an hour to escape and make it to the entrance without the use of portals. If you need an evacuation, return to the Kamar-Taj courtyard. Good luck. -S.S.

*I scan the area again, trying to figure out what’s going on. I know something is here, but can’t quite place it. To avoid giving myself away as a target, I cast a spell of night-vision on myself so I can see in the dark without emitting any light sources. Then, I glance around the room.*

*While the rather short ceiling and floors are made of stone, the walls are completely made of bones. Skulls, spines, anything that could be used was used. There are thousands just in this room alone. There is a single exit which seems to lead to a hallway with two directions: left or right.*

*I think for a minute, suspecting the location. Then, I decide to try something.*

Me (quiet to avoid too much attention, but enough to be heard in the room): Excusez-moi, si quelqu'un est ici, veuillez vous révéler. (Translated: “Excuse me, if anyone is here, please reveal yourselves.”) *I’m addressing any spirits potentially here.*

*After a moment, the tension of the room disappeared as a ghostly teen steps out of the wall. He seems rather gaunt but dressed nicely enough for the mid 1800’s.*

Teen Ghost (hesitantly): Bonjour madame.

Me (to ease communication): Parlez-vous Anglais? (Translated: “Do you speak English?”)

*The teen pauses before meekly nodding.*

Teen Ghost: Y-yes. I do not speak…good in English.

Me: C’est bien. (Translation: “It’s fine.”) You can switch to French whenever it gets difficult. I understand it well. I can help us both get out of here, but we’ll have to work together. Do you know what is in the left passageway?

Teen Ghost (frowns): I do not… *He pauses* Je ne souhaite pas partir. Il y a un monstre là-bas. Ici, je suis en sécurité. (Translation: I do not wish to leave. There is a monster out there. Here I am safe.)

Me: A monster? *I look at him.* What kind? I may be able to deal with it. Je suis une sorcière. (Translation: “I am a sorcerer.”) I can do magic. *I cast a small mandala to show him.*

Teen Ghost (frightened): C'est une ombre, je n'ai pas vu son visage et pourtant elle mange les âmes. Ma mère et ma sœur en ont été perdues lorsque nous avons été enterrés ici pour la première fois.

(Translate: It is a shadow, I have not seen its face yet it eats souls. My mother and sister were lost to it when we were first buried here.)

*I nod thoughtfully.*

Me: I will scout ahead, then. If the way is clear, I will come get you. Being trapped in here cannot have been easy.

Teen Ghost (Thankful): Merci! Les autres esprits vous aideront. ils ont peur car l'ombre a également volé les âmes des vivants. (Translation: The other spirits will help you. They are scared as the shadow has stolen the souls of the living as well.)

Me (nodding at him): De rien. (Translation: “You’re welcome.”) I’ll be back. Hopefully with friends. *I look at the passageways and cast a detection spell down each one in an attempt to figure out if it’s nearby. For now, I’m staying calm, knowing that negative emotions can attract and fuel evil entities.*

*The right passageway seems to be clear, but the spell pings something down the left passageway.*

*I think before heading right, erring on the side of caution. I’m still mulling over how to deal with the soul eater, but if I can find more spirits to free, I know that it’ll help.*

*The path winds and curves, the walls still completely made of bones except for the occasional archway made of stone. The air still feels charged with nervous energy and dread as Steward continues on.*

*I scuff “X” marks on the right-hand side of the floor of the passage with my shoe to indicate to myself where I’ve been.*

Me (quiet to avoid attracting the soul eater, but enough to be heard by any spirits I pass by): If anyone is trapped here, please reveal yourselves and follow me. I will help you. I will free you from this place. *I repeat myself in French so others can understand.*

*Three ghosts step forward from the walls. A stark difference from the first ghost, these three are clearly tourists. From their clothing, they seem to be from the 80’s. There are two men and a woman and they clearly seem relieved.*

Ghostly Woman: Oh thank god, someone who can see us.

First Ghostly Man (terrified): We’ve been trapped here forever. You have to get us out of here or that thing will eat us. *He looks around nervously.*

Second Ghostly Man (upset): It’s like being trapped in an eternal horror movie. We were just here on vacation and now we’re trapped!

Me: I heard about the creature, yes. If any of you remember how you got down here so we can find the way out, I’d love to hear it. First, there is some business to take care of. Stick with me and I’ll make sure everyone gets out. I’ve been here before and if we can at least get to the main passageway, I know the rest of the way.

Ghostly Woman: Deal. I’m Stacey.

Me (polite): Nice to meet you, Stacey.

First Ghostly Man: I’m Peter. *He shuffles nervously.* We’ve been stuck in this hallway since we died. We haven’t been able to go anywhere, it’s like an endless hallway.

Second Ghostly Man: *He nods at Steward.* Jake.

Me (sincere): Thank you for trusting me. Do you know of anyone else down here or no? Otherwise, I have one more person to scoop up before we get started.

Jake: Occasionally the older ghosts wander through. There’s hundreds of them. It used to be a lot more of them before that thing showed up. It was a while after we first ended up…*He hesitates to say ‘dead’.*

Stacey: *She leans up against Jake.* Yeah, we’ve heard the screaming and the horrible noises when it gets someone, but if we hide in the bones and don’t move it doesn’t notice us.

Peter: Kinda like Jaws…

Me: Good to know…*I take a mental note of this.* Okay. You all can follow me. I have a connection to ghosts. So, you won’t be bound down here anymore. *I turn back to find the first ghost, but first, I cast a detection spell as a precaution to avoid any nasty surprises.*

*Steward is easily able to get back to the starting room undetected.*

Me (to the first ghost): Je suis ici. (Translation: “I am here.”) Come with me and I will keep us safe.

Teen Ghost (hesitantly): Oui. *He cautiously follows behind Steward and stares cautiously at the other ghosts. Stacey is the only one who waves hello. All three males are tense.*

*Suddenly, the floor begins to rumble and dust and debris fall from the ceiling. Screams can be heard in the distance from the opposite way they had come from as well as a very loud and powerful roar.*

*A chill runs down my spine as I recognize what type of entity this might be…It was all-too familiar. Whatever was trying to get at us via the rift in the mines more than a year ago, but this one is different. It has been feeding in here for centuries and it is not only fully emerged from a rift, but stronger. Knowing how fast this thing can travel, I look back at the spirits and gesture quietly.*

Me (whispering): Come with me. Hide and don’t move.

*I carefully hop up and crawl into the thick piles of bones, uttering several hushed apologies to the deceased as I do. Then, once hidden, I stay still and silent, waiting for the thing to pass.*

*The four look horrified and quickly dart into the walls. The only indication that they are hidden in the skulls are the slightly darker eye sockets.*

*I wait in silence.*

*The screaming continues until suddenly, it goes quiet. Then, a dark aura floods the hallway as it goes pitch black. The creature seems to be huge considering it completely fills the hallway, but it is impossible to make out any features. It doesn’t seem to notice the group as it slithers through the catacombs, going the direction Steward just came from.*

*I wait for a few seconds to make sure it doesn’t double back before taking a breath. The sounds were nauseating and I feel horrible about the victims of this creature, but at this point, I know nothing can be done for the ones it caught.*

Me (quietly): Ancient One, are you still here as well?

*The Ancient One appears from the walls and seems to be confused by the location before focusing on Steward.*

Ancient One: I am now. You are completing your Master’s Trials, are you not?

Me: Yes. I was wondering if you, as a spirit, could assist me? I know I can’t ask my master. So, I figured asking you was worth a try. There’s something down here with us. A soul eater. I’ve only encountered one other entity like this before and it almost killed Stephen, me, and everyone else involved in the incident. We barely got out alive and I don’t know if Stephen even knows that this…thing…is lurking around down here.

Ancient One: *She ponders a moment.* I can assist you. There is nothing barring outside help if it is freely given, which I do. *She glances around again.* The Paris Catacombs are certainly a clever place to send you however Stephen would never set you against a soul eater knowingly. What is your task?

Me: I was supposed to get out of here within an hour without using portals, but now I can’t just run my trial and leave these spirits at the mercy of that creature. It’s beyond cruel.

Ancient One: Just so. *She gives her a smile.* If anything, he expected you to help the souls you came across anyway and never would have dreamed you wouldn’t stop to help everyone you could.

Me (returning the smile): As much as I want to succeed in this Trial, I can’t let a promotion cloud my judgment and let people suffer. I need to find the rift this thing came from. Maybe since I’ve gotten stronger and if I can borrow some energy from everyone, I can stun it and boot it back through the rift.

Ancient One: I will absolutely help.

Me: Do you know how to seal interdimensional rifts? If so, I’ll channel you so you can make sure it can’t come back through.

Ancient One: I will teach you the seal as we walk. *She looks to where the other spirits are hiding.* You may come out. We will protect you.

*The four spirits creep out again, still incredibly shaken from being so close to the soul eater, but willing to follow them.*

Ancient One: Now, *She turns back to Steward* let’s find its lair. Lead the way, Adept.

*I nod and slide back out of the pile of bones.*

Me (whispering): If there’s anyone else in here, you’re free to come with us too. *I’m inviting anyone who’s trapped. The more, the better for everyone involved. As I walk, I listen to the Ancient One’s sealing lesson and occasionally cast a detection spell to make sure the thing isn’t lurking nearby. While we descend, I continue to invite in more trapped spirits.*

*It takes some coaxing, but as they walk, fifty additional spirits join as they trace the dark presence in the catacombs. Finally, they reach a decrepit hallway that seems to be drenched in horrible dark energy, almost exactly like the mine. It leads to a large barren room filled with decayed skeletons, some unfortunately rather recently dragged down here.*

*Vomit starts to well up in my throat from the sheer horror of the situation. I swallow it back down and silently thank the Vishanti that I can’t smell anything. Then, I look around to see any sign of the telltale shimmering from an open interdimensional rift.*

*It takes some effort, but it seems the rift is coming from the ceiling. Black ooze and red liquid seems to drip from it occasionally.*

Me (taking a few deep breaths): This is the place…So, now the thing has to come back here at some point…If it doesn’t come by in a few minutes, I’ll have to draw it in. Spirits, come to me. I won’t absorb you, but I do need to borrow your energy. Also, the safest place to be so it can’t get you here will be in a physical body that can fight back. It’ll take some effort, but if I can keep my sense of self in this crowd, it should be okay.

Ancient One (concerned): I would advise against doing this when you have only done so once before, but I know you have the same flaws as your master so I know I can’t stop you. Instead, I shall be the barrier between you and the tide of souls. If you get overwhelmed, you leave. Trial and sense of honor be damned.

*I pause at her words.*

Me: Do you have any other recommendations that won’t potentially compromise anyone here?

Ancient One: Do not let it touch you. Your soul is going to be the most protected here, but if it manages to land a hit, it will steal someone away and consume them; weakening you and strengthening itself. That is why I urge you to know when to run. If not for yourself, but for the people you are about to protect. *She stares Steward in the eyes.*

Me (stubborn determination, all too familiar): I won’t let it have another soul. Even if a portal is considered “cheating”, if it’s between this thing claiming more victims or disqualification, I’m out of here.

Ancient One: I believe Stephen and Wong would rather have you alive and redo the trial at a different date than have your soul consumed. The man is going to be horrible enough to himself that he didn’t realize a soul eater was down here, but the catacombs are extremely extensive.

*The rift begins to rumble as the dripping seems to turn into a steady stream. The soul eater seems to slowly be emerging with the abundance of food right outside its door.*

*I steady myself and call all of the spirits to enter my body, concentrating their collective borrowed energy into my own reservoir. It’s a deluge of streams of consciousness collecting into one body. I do my best to stay strong against the tide, keeping tabs on who I am in all of this and remembering to ground myself into my body. I feel like my mind is being squashed deep into itself as my soul gets compacted by the crowd. My head spins as it’s becoming hard to breathe. I know I don’t have much time to acclimate at all. So, I concentrate on the spell I plan to cast, mentally reciting it over and over and over as my eyes watch to see when the soul eater comes forth from its rift.*

*It doesn’t take long at all as a large shadow beast towers over Steward. It seems like a demonic cross between a wolf, a bear, and some other pieces of creatures. Its glowing green eyes are trained on Steward and it licks its lips with a dark purple tongue. They stand there, staring at each other for a moment, before the soul eater pounces.*

*I stare it down and as it pounces, I take aim and fire the cast directly at its jaws.*

Me (in a mixture with my voice dominant, but with The Ancient One and all of the 54 other souls mingled within it): By the power that moves and breathes and flows and grows with us as one--May Nirvalon quash all despair through pure white light...Be done!

*A blinding blast of pure white energy launches itself forcefully from my hands, the power is so intense that it sets everything in the room on fire as a side effect.*

*The soul eater yelps as it takes the hit directly to the face. It seems to weaken the creature considerably, shrinking in its pain, however it seems to still be at least fifteen feet tall. After a moment to shake off the hit, it snarls and attempts to launch itself at Steward once more and manages to be quicker this time.*

*I use telekinesis to push myself as I leap out of the way, boosting my speed. I know that there’s limited oxygen with the raging fire. So, I use the Winds of Watoomb to push the flames in a wall towards the soul eater, continuing my assault.*

*The soul eater takes another hard hit as the flames seem to do even more damage. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding, but the shadows that the creature is made out of seem to almost be…fading on certain parts of its body where it is the most injured. Meanwhile, from behind Steward, a portal opens bathing the room in bright sunlight as Stephen steps in, blinking rapidly at the change into lighting.*

Stephen: Unfortunately, Steward, you-HOW WAS THAT THERE?! *He rushes to get ready to defend me, but I turn and look at him, eyes glowing white and aura bristling with the energy of 56 souls.*

Me (with the many voices): This is my fight. I’ll handle it.

Stephen (worried): Steward, you don’t ha-

Me (multiple voices): Stay back. I’ve got this. *I turn quickly to the soul eater, refusing to allow it an opening.*

*The soul eater screeched at the sunlight but it took the opportunity of Stephen’s arrival to slither forwards and attempt to take out the weaker target with jaw outstretched.*

Me (viciously, still multiple voices): BY THE FLAMES OF THE FALTINE! *I aim it down the creature’s throat and allow the spell to blast myself backwards away from it while giving the soul eater the full brunt of the incantation.*

*The soul eater doesn’t even get a chance to react before it implodes into flames, hissing and screeching as it burns to ash and finally ending its reign of terror of the catacombs.*

*I get thrown back by the power of the final spell and ram into a wall, slumping down. After a horrible few seconds of stillness, I jerk my head up and gasp as I release the souls from my body. It’s like taking a breath for the very first time and my body feels almost spacious to my soul as it takes up its rightful amount of space again.*

Me (slurring slightly from fatigue and most likely a concussion): Thanks, all of you…*I give a dopey smile at the Ancient One since she’s close by.*

Ancient One (gently): You were magnificent. *She turns to Stephen urgently* Get her help. Now.

Me: Mm’ fine, I swear! Did I pass?

Stephen (quickly, worried sick): Yes, you passed. Now don’t move.

*He portals me to the sickbay and goes to give me proper treatment. When he’s satisfied, albeit with my stubborn insistence that I don’t need anything but to sit down for a moment, he sternly instructs me to stay put. After a brief battle of wills, I reluctantly agree to it.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*While Prettywitch is meditating in her room, she gets psychic contact from Stephen.*

Stephen (psychic contact): Sorry for the delay. Please report to the courtyard for your final Trial, Prettywitch.

Prettywitch: Oh! Uh, okay. *She gets up and cracks her knuckles while she exits the door.*

*Prettywitch arrives at the courtyard a few minutes later.*

*Stephen is there waiting for her.*

Stephen: Adept Prettywitch, are you ready to undergo your final Trial?

Prettywitch: Yup. I’m ready.

*Stephen opens a portal and gestures for her to step through.*

Stephen: Good luck.

*She nods and makes her way through.*

*Prettywitch enters an area filled with various statues and seemingly random objects. It looks pretty straightforward, but there’s a note on the table next to her.*

*She picks it up and reads it.*

“Hello, Prettywitch. Your task is to make it all the way across this course without using portals and/or leaving the boundaries. You have half an hour. Good luck. — S.S.”

Prettywitch: Okay…*She takes a deep breath.* Well, here goes nothing. *She makes her way towards the start of the course.*

*Two statues flank the entrance. It’s calm.*

*She makes her way past them, noticing a mild aura radiating off of them before turning her attention to the road ahead.*

*Prettywitch hears a subtle creaking behind her and then a quiet whoosh. A 2 meter-long stone spear whizzes dangerously close to her, catching at her hair as it passes, burying itself halfway into the ground a short distance in front of her.*

Prettywitch: Ah man! *She takes a few deep breaths and thinks about her options. This is when she decides to use her tarot deck. She pulls Ace of Cups (Past), Two of Wands (Present), & Two of Swords (Future). She groans seeing Two of Swords.* Well that’s not much help! Useless…! *She puts the deck back in her pocket and weighs her options; she could step forward, but there’s a good chance this could be a “Jehovah begins with an I” situation if she does, so she decides to either go right or left. She chooses the right pathway.*

*There is a chessboard engraved on a stone table, but nobody there. The path continues past the chess table.*

*She starts to make her way past the table…only to hear a voice.*

Voice (seemingly from the table itself): Care to play a round of chess?

*As she approaches the table, a mystical forcefield closes around her, trapping her there.*

Prettywitch: Eh!?

Voice: You DO want to pass through here, right?

Prettywitch: Yeah…?

Voice: Then play. I’ll let you have the first move.

Prettywitch: Okay…*She sits down, trying to determine just how the hell she gets out of this unscathed? Especially since she sucks at Chess! But, she decides to take the first move, anyway.* I’ll start with one of my pawns. *She moves a pawn forward.*

*Inexplicably, the queen on the opposing side moves OVER the other pieces and takes out Prettywitch’s pawn. An obvious cheat.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened.* HUH!!!!? I’m…pretty sure you can’t do that!

Voice: Says who? Nobody else saw.

Prettywitch: *She raises an eyebrow. She’s starting to catch on.* Oh? Bit of a smartass, aren’t ya? Well, two can play at that game. *She moves her knight out in front.*

*The opposing pawn across from her knight moves forward and takes it. She hears an unseen snickering.*

Prettywitch: *She smirks.* You just fell into my trap. *The Knight fades away to reveal a gag can with a snake in it, only instead of a snake it’s the Crimson Bands of Cytorak that burst forth from the can, ensnaring her enemy.* Well, that takes care of that. *With a little extra telekinesis, she flips the chess table for dramatic effect.*

*The field doesn’t disengage for the bound table, but it definitely goes down after the table flip. The path is clear for her to advance to the next area.*

Prettywitch: Perfect! *Beaming, she starts to move past…until she hears the sound of a dog whimpering.* Huh?

*The chess board is laying on top of a translucent basset hound who is snuffling and whining, rather upset at his position.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened, again.* Bats!?

*Bats startles and the chess board jolts off of him.*

Bats: What are you still doing here?

Prettywitch: Well, I can’t just leave you here. I love dogs! Do they even know you’re here?

Bats: I mean, Stephen does but he didn’t really think you’d come over here so he wanted me to guard the room just in case. *He shakes himself off and trots over to PrettyWitch and sits down at her feet, looking up at her.* I think this human game was supposed to do something else but the pieces looked chewy but important.

Prettywitch: *She’s trying not to squee around the dog, so she takes a deep breath and takes Bats in her arms.* Well, the trial’s done now. What do you say we go through the rest of this labyrinth together?

Bats (happy): I’d love to! *He starts wagging his tail.* My name is Bats! What’s your name?

Prettywitch: My name’s Prettywitch.

Bats: Nice to meet you! *He starts panting, just happy to be carried around by someone nice.*

*This current route splits.*

Prettywitch: *She groans.* Oh, great! What now!?

Bats: I think you have to pick where to go.

Prettywitch: Okay.*She thinks this over for a second.* Well we went right last time, let’s go left.

*She ends up warped all the way back to the start of the course.*

Prettywitch: What the hell? *She sees the statues again and pouts.* Oh you have gotta be fucking KIDDING ME!!! What the hell am I supposed to do, go through the path, again!? *She sighs.* Guess we’re going through here, again.

Bats: Can I chew on more of the pieces?

Prettywitch: No, it’s no good for your stomach. Even if you are a ghost.

*Prettywitch walks back the way she came and makes the same right turn as before. She summons the Images of Ikkon to table flip the chess board and makes takes the right path, this time.

*She sees…herself? The image is standing there in the middle of the path. It moves when she moves, mirroring her.*

Prettywitch: Okay…that’s gonna take some getting used to. Is this part of the test or something? Or is this just Stephen fucking with me?

*She realizes pretty quickly though that this must be part of the test and so she goes to act.*

Prettywitch: *First thing she does is summon Sailor Moon’s Cutie Moon Rod and aims it at the mirror* Moon Princess Halation!

*The spell “short-circuits” and fails, fading into oblivion. It has no effect.*

Prettywitch: What the…That should’ve worked.

Bats: It looked pretty! *He wags his tail*

Prettywitch: *She pouts but gives a big sigh.* Oh, I can’t get mad at you. *This time, she summons Sakura’s Star Wand along with a card. * SWORD! * She tries to slice the mirror in two.*

*The spell “short-circuits” and fails again, all summoned items fading into oblivion. It also has no effect.*

Prettywitch: I…I don’t understand…*She can feel herself beginning to panic, as well as her brain overloading due to sensory output.*

*Bats whines and snuffles up to her.*

Prettywitch: *She takes him into her arms and hugs him.* Thank you. *She pets him to help herself calm down.*

Bats: I think I remember these… *He nods at the mirror* Stephen was chuckling to himself about how “you shall not pass!” And a bunch of weird stuff like you made didn’t work when he tried it too. Then he did something else and he could walk through it like a door. That’s the last time I saw him before I found the chew set. *He starts panting, clearly happy to be held.*

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widened.* So it’s didn’t work for him either… *There’s another thing she takes note of; “You Shall Not Pass!” She might not be a huge LOTR fan, but even she knows what that’s in reference to. This makes her curious. *Hmmm…I wonder… *She summons Zakuro’s Cross Whip from Tokyo Mew Mew and aims it at the mirror.* Reborn ZaCross Pure!!!*

*It fails, yet again.*

Prettywitch: Okay…So anything pre-existing is out of the question. Which means I’m gonna have to make my own spells. *This worries her, not because coming up with spells is hard, it’s just that she doesn’t have a lot of confidence in her own original work, but…well desperate times call for desperate measures. She sighs.* Well, here goes nothing.

Prettywitch: *She raises her hand. When that happens, an ornate looking mirror, one big enough to be held by both hands.* Mirror Change! *It glows a bright white and shapeshifts to form around her forearm; creating an arm cannon. She aims it at the mirror and uses her other hand to steady her other arm.* Eat laser beam, Motherfucker!

*The mirror of herself attempted to copy her moves, but couldn’t actually replicate her original spell. So, it gets shattered. She can now pass by.*

Prettywitch: I did it…Oh my God!!! I actually did it!!! Yay!!! *She jumps for joy and squeezes Bats.* Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Bats!!! When we get home you’re getting as many treats as you want!!!*

*Bats barks happily and his tail wags furiously as he enjoys the hug.*

Bats: Happy to help, PrettyWitch! I love treats. Do you have popcorn? Stephen wouldn’t let me have any when he was making this.

*There’s only one way ahead now.*

Prettywitch: Sorry, boy; if Stephen won’t give you any, I’m not giving you any, either.

*As they progress, there is a subtle distortion that they pass through before they are enveloped by a shroud of mist.*

Prettywitch: Oh, no! Now what?

*She hears a familiar creaking somewhere in the mist.*

Prettywitch: Who’s there?

*Bats notices something and growls.*

*There is a quiet whooshing sound, much like the one she heard before at the start of the challenge. A spear is incoming.*

Prettywitch: *She summon the Shield of The Seraphim to protect herself and Bats.*

*The spear collides with the shield and breaks, the pieces falling to the ground. She hears heavy footsteps as the thing repositions itself, still unseen.*

Prettywitch: *She forms two, blue gauntlets that cover her hands and wrists with two holes in the palms.* Show yourself!

*Silence.*

Prettywitch: *She takes in the silence and waits, but always remains on guard.*

*Something shifts. There is clearly more than one here. Something is behind her and another is at her flank.*

Prettywitch: Shit! *She puts Bats down and places him in a protective bubble.* You stay right here, okay Bats? *She smiles and gets up, ready for her attackers.*

Bats: Alright PrettyWitch! I trust you!

*Still hidden in the mist, one of them launches a surprise attack, sweeping at the backs of Prettywitch’s legs in an attempt to knock her down.*

*Prettywitch jumps out of the way in time and shoots a burst of air at the creature.*

*The mist moves out of the way of the air blast, revealing it to be the statue that attacked her earlier. Since it’s made out of stone, it isn’t knocked over by the air.*

Prettywitch: Okay. Well, that explains a lot. *She uses her gauntlets to create a giant current of wind she sends towards the statue.*

*It ducks down, making itself a smaller target. The wind doesn’t knock it over, but it does clear the mist away. The second statue is seen to be creeping up towards Prettywitch’s side.*

Prettywitch: *She runs towards the statue and uses it as leverage to jump into the air, then she raises both gauntlets high above her head and jumps again.* Arial Gumbo! *She thrusts her hands forward and a giant gust of wind flies at the creature. While that happens, she creates a pair of Angels wings to gently break her falls, and so she can land on her feet.*

*The one used as leverage reacts in surprise. Meanwhile, the other one throws several spears in an attempt to hit her.*

*She reacts by shielding herself from the spears using the gauntlets. She does make a small portal for some spears to fly through, just in case. Then she opens another portal to send the spears flying towards the statue that attacked her.*

*The spears hit the first statue, chipping and cracking it in several places. An arm falls off of it after a decent blow to its shoulder. The second one goes on the offensive and rushes at Prettywitch.*

*She creates two jet streams of water, then flies up and uses her breath to freeze the creature charging at her in place. She’s even controlling the flow of the wind to ensure the freezing takes effect. When it’s done, she flies closer and flicks the statue, sending it falling.*

*It slides with its momentum, made worse by the ice. Then, it shatters on impact. Now, the one-armed statue attempts to come up behind her and whack her over the head.*

*She flies up and dodges in time. Once she’s behind the statue, she lifts her hands high up and jumps.* Arial Gumbo! *Her hands thrust forwards to create a giant burst of wind that goes off in all directions like a bomb.*

*The wind rushes through the cracks of the statue, widening them. It’s very weak now, but still tries to go after her.*

*Prettywitch disassembles the gauntlets and allows them to form twin katanas in each hand. She draws a pentagram of light.* Holy Crucifixion! *She stabs the pentagram with both blades which sends it hurtling towards the statue.*

*The statue shatters on impact. The final stretch of pathway is clear to pass now, leading into a low-ceilinged cave, but the path suddenly ends in what looks like a chasm. There is a continuation leading to another doorway on the other side. It is too low to fly across and too wide to jump over.*

Prettywitch: Okay…So it’s a leap of faith…I hope…Come here, Bats!

*He runs forward in his ball like a hamster before he tries to stop but the ball keeps rolling.*

Bats: I’m here- *He cuts off with a yelp as the ball collides into Prettywitch and he’s thrown slightly.*

Prettywitch: *She pops the bubble and levitates Bats into her arms.* Sorry, I should probably be more careful, shouldn’t I?

Bats (happily): Probably, but that was fun!

Prettywitch: Yeah, I guess. *She looks down at the crater again and gulps.* Well, here goes nothing. *She closes her eyes and, just like Indy, takes one step forward.*

*The invisible path is solid beneath her feet.*

*She opens one eye and sees she’s standing, still in one piece. She smiles, but still walks over. For all she knows, she could trip and be a goner. Sure, Stephen would try to save her, but for all she knows it might be too late by then. So she walks briskly towards the door at the end of the path.*

*The path holds up. She can see the sorcerer in question waiting for her just beyond the door. When Prettywitch makes it across, Stephen smiles at her.*

Stephen: Cutting it close time-wise, but you made it…Master Prettywitch. *He smirks proudly at her.* Look, part of why some of those obstacles were so tricky was because I wanted you to rely on yourself, not just references. YOU are enough, Prettywitch, and I hope that passing these tests and the acceptance of your friends has helped you start to see it that way. Be your own person and think for yourself. It’ll help you and those you protect, understand? *He gently squeezes her shoulder.*

Prettywitch: *At first, she doesn't know what to say and she's in shock. All she knows is that she’s grateful. She finally pulls him into a big hug.* Oh, Stephen! Thank you so much! I love you!

*Stephen hugs her back, slightly red. It’s still a bit awkward expressing affection, but he’s proud of her.*

Stephen: All three of you passed, by the way. I’m not sure where Trix went off to, but Steward’s in the sickbay. She had…a bit of an accident. *He looks guilty.*

Prettywitch: Wait, what!?

Stephen: She’ll be okay. It’s just a concussion and some bruised ribs. *He sighs* During her Trial, a soul eater emerged from a rift and went after her. The ghost of the Ancient One, along with a small army of other ghosts that she recruited managed to help her fight it off…I unfortunately arrived right in the middle of the fight. She set off a large blast to get away from the creature’s jaws and although it killed the soul eater, she hit the wall of the passageway. The healers are probably finishing treating her by now.

*It’s clear that he blames himself and feels horrible for it. He omitted the bit about not knowing that it was even down there in the first place.*

Prettywitch: Ah, don’t blame yourself, Stephen.These things happen. The important thing is Steward’s alive and safe.

Stephen: Before you go see her, you should at least try these on. I think you’ll like them. *He presents Prettywitch with an ornate box containing her Master’s robes.*

Prettywitch: *She gets starry-eyed.* Oooh!!! Thank you, Stephen!

Bats: You really are a girly girl, aren’t you?

Prettywitch: *Suddenly remembers she has Bats in her hands* Oh yeah, how come you didn’t tell us you had a puppy?

Bats: Hey, I’m not a puppy!

Prettywitch: Yes, you are.

*Stephen raises an eyebrow.*

Stephen: I see you’ve met Bats. He’s a…recent addition. Originally, I was doing some research on spiritual channeling, but came across him in my search. I thought that you girls might like to meet him since the three of you clearly love animals.

Prettywitch: *She beams.* You got that right, Mister. Oh! You should totally introduce him to Clea! I’m sure she’d love animals, too!

*Stephen clears his throat awkwardly, blushing again.*

Stephen: Erm, yes. Let’s go back to Kamar-Taj so you can try on your new robes and talk to your friends.

Prettywitch: Okay!

***To be continued***

#doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #doctor strange meta fic #doctor stephen strange #multi author #dr stephen strange #stephen strange #marvel #wong #the ancient one #bats the ghost dog

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lokigodofaces · 2 years

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intense ranting about someone that doesn't know how to read the description of a fic and is mad at me for my content. continuing from this post

I am very clear about Loki being asexual in my Loki/reader. Depending on the site and how it works, I have it in at least one of these: title, description, tags. I also have an author's not about a third of the way through from when I confirmed Loki as ace, and have only kept it because I keep getting encouraging comments there. But at the beginning of reading, you have 1-3 places listing Loki as ace, and another partway through.

Well, I repeatedly get comments about how "disappointed" people are that he is ace in this fic on that author's note. Which always annoys me because it's not like I was hiding it, it's your fault that you didn't see it. It's always annoying and frustrating, but someone was particularly rude today and now I want to scream.

Allow me to show you the conversation. This is on the author's note and about Loki's asexuality.

X: Hey that's cool you do you. I am just angry that I am being told this after reading like 11 chats [chapters]. I already was invested in the story wish I knew sooner.

I'll admit it, I get comments all the time that seem off. Things like, "Yeah, sorta disappointed that there won't be smut, but I'm really proud of you and I love this story and can't wait for more <3." Yes, there are problems with this type of comment still. Honestly, I don't think it's appropriate to ever tell an author you are disappointed by the lack of smut in their work. But I appreciate that they at least are being supportive. This comment though is different. She is "angry" at me because she didn't know that Loki is ace in this fic. And it is implied that she doesn't want to read further (which is fine, read what you want, just don't tell the author that you don't like it, that's rude). And, (understandably, I would think), I am upset by this because I did say that Loki is ace already, it is in the description.

Me: If you are referring to Loki being asexual, I literally said it in the description.

I will admit, I probably should have used more tact when saying this, but whatever. This was my response, which went straight to the point. I did make it clear that Loki is asexual. The exact sentence is literally, "Loki is greybiromantic asexual." Very straightforward. No room for confusion, right? To which she responds:

X: I'm sorry , but I still don't see that in the description. But I don't use this website often so maybe I am missing it

At this point, I am annoyed. It isn't that hard to find descriptions (the post linked at top has links to quotev and you can do a little scavenger hunt and look for the description and see how easy it is). Quotev says how long someone has been on Quotev, so I checked. She did join Quotev 1 day ago. So, yes, I should be more lenient than if it was someone who's been on for months/years. But, still, who reads a fic without the full description? What sort of person does that to themselves? I responded with directions on finding the description, and haven't gotten an answer yet.

Me: Desktop: Scroll to the top of the fic. Just above the title and to the right are two buttons. The right one says, "Info." Move your mouse over it, and a bunch of things will pop up, including the full description. Android mobile: Scroll to the top of the fic. Above and to the right of the title is a button with an "i" in a circle. Click it, and a bunch of things will pop up, including the full description. Idk if it's different on Apple, but it's probably similar or the same.

I admit, I've been having some wild mood swings the past couple days, so maybe I'm overreacting. But this is just so ridiculous. Why would you start a fic without knowing what it's about? And why would you think it's okay to be angered by an author's content, especially something like queer rep? Just,

*screams*

#local aspec annoyed by allo readers #may reblog with more if i get response from her

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kiss-inthekitchen · 3 years

Text

all that you ask of me | loki laufeyson

summary: you and Loki have a discussion about your kinks, and you learn something about him that you weren’t expecting

wc: 1.5k

warnings: smutty themes!! talk of bdsm, both reader and loki are switches and they aren't chill about it, teasing, light degradation but in a cute way, sub!loki, dom!loki, f!reader. loki has huge bisexual switch energy and i had to put it in a fic

a/n: title is kind of unrelated lol it makes more sense in the next chapter. pls let me know if you like it, i love when u guys leave comments or tags !

It’s been a few weeks since you and Loki had started dating and your sexual chemistry has been insane, which was a surprise to neither of you. You’d started out as friends, and even then, any time Loki had so much as brushed his fingers along your skin you felt something akin to electricity spike through your body. And though he was loath to admit it at first, Loki felt the same. So, once you finally gave in to your mutual feelings for each other, things only got more exciting.

Though the two of you had been having sex for weeks, you hadn’t really done anything too spicy yet, still getting used to this new aspect of your relationship. Now, though, you’d decided it would be a good idea to get it all out there, rather than try to figure it out as you went along. Besides, something about the idea of talking things out with Loki like it was nothing more than a casual conversation was thrilling to you.

You and Loki were sitting on the couch, your legs resting in his lap as he absentmindedly soothed circles into one of your calves. You smiled fondly at the way he always had to be touching some part of you. The two of you had covered a few topics already, going over safewords (you were partial to the traffic light system, and Loki agreed) and some of your hard limits, and now you were on to the fun part. Specifically, a rather exciting interest your partner had just confessed to.

“You know,” you mused, unable to keep the teasing smile off your face, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into submission, what with your whole...thing.”

“My whole thing?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows at your choice of words. You suppressed a laugh. He probably would’ve spent more time on his faux outrage if the look on your face wasn’t so damn cute. “Yes, well. I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

You hummed in response. “I mean, I had hoped you’d be into it. Or, I guess, fantasized, would be the better w-”

“Did you?” He cut you off, sounding all too pleased.

“Oh, for a while now,” you smirked.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, the admiration in his eyes shifting to smugness as he continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to be a dom, what with your whole thing.”

You made a show of rolling your eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Compared to Loki, you were much more bubbly and warm, not that he was really so cold anymore, but he was still… him. On top of that, your style tended to lean more toward pastel colors, though lately you were known to also rock some dark green tones. You supposed that from the outside, people would assume you to be the more submissive one in the relationship. Which you definitely could be, but your tastes went both ways.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you relented. “Now come on, tell me what I want to know.”

“Okay, well. I’ve no problem with bondage, as I’m sure you know.”

“You do seem to end up in chains quite often, my love. But... not sexually?” You’d meant for it to be a statement, but then you realized you actually had no idea, your voice lilting up into a question.

He fixed you with a look that very clearly told you you’d been wrong.

Well, okay then. “Right,” you responded, a little breathier than before, trying not to let your imagination run wild just yet. Loki squeezed your ankle playfully, bringing you back before you could lose focus. “So, is there anything you’re not okay with, bondage-wise? Like, collars, ties, cuffs…?” You trailed off.

He thought for a moment. “No, it’s all fine with me. What about you?”

“Cuffs kinda freak me out, actually. I don’t have superhuman strength and all.”

“Noted. Oh, one thing I do want to mention- I’m going to have to ask that you refer to me exclusively as ‘Your Majesty’ when I’m in charge,” he said, expression unwavering.

Your mouth dropped open for a second before you asked, “Wait, seriously?”

He broke into a mischievous grin. “No. But if you’d really like to, I suppose I wouldn’t stop you,” he said the last bit thoughtfully, and you playfully hit his arm with the back of your hand in admonishment. “Ooh, harder,” he said, still with an air of mischief, though you got the sense he wasn’t entirely kidding.

“Loki!” you gasped.

“Alright,” he laughed lightly. “Great God of Mischief will work just as well.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You’re being so difficult.”

“Will you just tell me what you like to be called already? If you carry on like this, I swear, I will call you Captain.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, glaring at you, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask, care to test that theory? “Okay, I yield. But, honestly, it depends on the scene. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have you call me ‘sir’ most of the time, ‘daddy’ on special occasions. You’re a smart girl. I trust that you’ll know when those occasions come about.”

You just nodded, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Why were you having such a reaction to Loki calling you a smart girl? He’d definitely noticed.

“What would you like to be called? When you’re the dominant?” Loki asked, saving you from your thought spiral.

“Oh, um. Ma’am is fine. None of the other terms really work for me, I don’t know why, they just seem kind of… too much, I guess,” you over-explained, feeling your cheeks start to heat up.

“Ma’am is just fine?” Loki pressed.

“No, it’s- it’s good. I, um, really like it.” Your cheeks flamed even hotter now, your gaze trained on the couch cushion.

Loki reached out and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “Come now, you were doing so well. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, voice taking on that deep timbre that made you feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Okay,” you breathed, your mind gone completely blank as you looked at him.

“Good girl,” he said softly. He didn’t miss the way your body reacted to the praise, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Bastard. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slightly to clear it. “That’s not fair,” you countered weakly.

“Isn’t it? I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he feigned innocence.

“Right,” you said, only a little petulantly, trying to think of what else you wanted to ask him before he’d distracted you. “How do you feel about degradation?” You blurted out. “Receiving, I mean.”

That caught him off guard, to your great enjoyment. “I- I’m not sure. No one’s ever tried it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up but no one’s ever called you names?”

“No,” he responded, frowning slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I think I might be okay with it.”

“My honey, you’ve been so deprived,” you said with a pout. It was your turn to have a little fun now. “So,” you started, trailing your fingertips up his forearm, drawing his attention to your touch before you continued. “If, for example, I had you on your knees, and you were being so good for me, and I just happened to call you my obedient little slut-” he inhaled sharply, and you couldn’t help but grin, “-you would, theoretically, be okay with that?” You looked up into his eyes, seeing the flash of desire that had settled there.

“I think that would be acceptable,” he spoke, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice even.

You smiled, pleased with yourself. It was cute that he still tried to seem unaffected when you could literally feel the way his cock had stiffened against you. You shifted the position of your leg in his lap, lightly brushing against him, and he gasped.

“Pathetic,” you chide.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he may try to seem unimpressed with your teasing, he was certainly susceptible to it. “If you want us to get through the rest of the conversation, you’re going to have to stop that,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea than an order, and he’s sure that you’re going to be the death of him.

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, dearest,” he says, tone laced through with affection.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, drawing him closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Well, that’s a mistake we won’t make twice. Isn’t it, love?”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #sub!loki #dom!loki #mcu loki #i had too much fun writing this lmao #it's the switching for me!!!#bisexual switch messes only in this house <3 #my fics #pls interact w this if you liked it i need validation lol

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worstloki · 3 years

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Fic gift for you

Variants come and go at the TVA, and the Judge rarely remembers the faces, so often does she have to prune annoying miscreants who risk ruining the Sacred Timeline. Almost all who come before the judge are guilty, and for those who are innocent, their timeline is still doomed – and them along with it. Is it fair? Perhaps not. But this is the job the Judge has been bestowed, and she has no memory or desire to carry out any other purpose, content to decree a death sentence to all.

There is one name however, that sticks in her mind, despite the fact that she wishes otherwise. Loki Laufeyson; Loki Odinson; Loki, God of Mischief; Loki, Prince of Asgard; Loki, Heir of Jotunheim – no matter the title or surname, the first name remains the same, and the parade of Loki variants who inevitably find themselves before the Judge bring with them their own versions of chaos. It would be exhausting, if the Judge could feel exhaustion.

There are Loki variants of all shapes and sizes, genders and abilities, and the unpredictable nature of Loki means the Judge presides over the pruning of their variants more than any other living soul in her career. The most frustrating variants however, are those who are so close to the Sacred Timeline – so close to perfecting the role set out by the Time Keepers – who then make one poor decision and ruin the natural order. The Judge hates these ones most of all.

L6128 is a version of Loki that falls under this category. The Judge is currently staring at a small boy, with pale skin, dark hair and slightly trembling knees.

‘Laufeyson, Variant L6128, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-84-29. How do you plead?’

The boy before the Judge squeaks slightly, stumbling backwards in shock.

‘I’m Odinson, not Laufeyson,’ he mutters, chin stuck out stubbornly despite his shaking voice. ‘My father will come and destroy you for stealing me.’

The Judge leans forwards slightly on her desk, and peers downwards.

‘As you have just learnt, in your extremely ill-advised adventure into your weapons chamber, you are not an Asgardian, and Odin is not your father. Learning your true heritage at this point has caused a Nexus event. I find you guilty.’

The hammer slams down on the gavel, and the small boy is led away for pruning. Compassion is not instilled in the Judge, but look the boy gives her remains in her mind for a long time.

‘Laufeyson, Variant L3524, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-28-59. How do you plead?’

L3524 stares back at her with a slightly haunted expression, which hardens when he hears the name.

‘Don’t call me that,’ he snarls, struggling against the guards holding him in place. This version seems to be more physically combatant than the last few, and the Judge eyes him warily.

‘You did not deploy the Destroyer against your brother on Earth,’ she announces. ‘I find you guilty.’

‘So what?’ snaps L3524. ‘I showed compassion for my brother and didn’t murder him, and for this I am condemned? Who the hell are you to determine what I should or should not have done?’

The Judge sighs. ‘By not deploying the Destroyer, you did not set the scene for your brother’s development,’ she drones, shuffling some paperwork. ‘You caused a Nexus event. Guilty.’

‘Laufeyson, Variant L9173, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-46-39. How do you plead?’

Another court case, another Loki. L9173 can barely stand, covered in bruising and burn marks. He might drop dead before the Judge can issue a verdict, which would be efficient but unsatisfactory.

‘I don’t think my brother is very impressed that you stole me away,’ L9173 grunts out, an amused expression on his face despite everything. ‘Didn’t you hear, we had a very touching reunion when I managed to shake off a little bit of mind control? He’s not going to be happy he’s lost me yet again.’

The Judge gazes back with a bland expression. ‘Mister Odinson is not a concern to us. You were the one who violated the sequence and caused a Nexus event by choosing to fight the Chitauri instead of leading the invasion. The Avengers cannot continue down the Sacred Timeline if this happens. Guilty.’

‘Laufeyson, Variant L3372, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-59-41. How do you plead?’

L3372 is being held up by two Minutemen, his face ashen and one hand attempting to staunch the flow of blood that is spreading across his chest.

‘I’d say interminable legalese is not my highest priority right now,’ he says, attempting to sound proud and strong despite slowly dying as they all stand in the court. ‘Perhaps we could discuss random allegations after I’ve taken a moment.’

The Judge doesn’t need a moment to determine guilt, however. This variant has not faked his own death for Thor Odinson, and was therefore not on the pathway to pretend to be King of Asgard. The events of Ragnarok had been moving further away; the Sacred Timeline must be preserved.

‘Guilty,’ the Judge announces, a bored wave of her hand. She can’t be bothered to even give an explanation this time – and L3372 is leaving an annoyingly large pool of blood on the floor.

The Judge is performing deskwork rather than court duties when the whispers and rumours begin to trickle around the office. A Loki variant, who escaped the Minutemen and is now set free in the timeline. It’s a concerning accident, but the Judge is sure the TVA will resolve it in an appropriate manner. It is not the Judge’s problem to deal with, however, and so she pushes the thought aside. There is more pruning to be done.

‘Laufeyson, Variant L6742, you are charged with Sequence Violation 7-93-19. How do you plead?’

After the last few variants, it’s almost surprising for the Judge to see such a strong and triumphant looking Loki, despite a heavy layer of annoyance displayed across his face, and bruises littering his cheek. He’s still clutching a blue, glowing box.

‘What right have you to bring me here?’ L6742 snaps, clutching the box tighter. ‘I demand you release me and take me back to Thor at once.’

The Judge reads out loud from the paperwork. ‘You have violated the Sacred Timeline and caused a Nexus event through using the Tesseract to save yourself and Thor Odinson from Thanos the Titan. You are guilty, and sentenced to pruning.’

L6742 fights back against the Minutemen at this, managing to kill one with his own weapon before more Minutemen burst in and surround him.

‘Whatever it is, you’re wrong about me,’ L6742 says desperately. ‘I was making a difference.’

‘Exactly,’ the Judge feels compelled to interject. ‘You were making the wrong difference. Stop fighting the inevitable. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that’s how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves. Stop trying to stray from your path. Guilty.’

The hammer bangs on the gavel with finality, and L6742 is led away for his sentence.

There’s another Loki variant at the TVA not long after – L1130. The Judge doesn’t meet this version – Ravonna Renslayer herself oversaw his sentencing. But she is surprised to hear that the variant is allowed to keep existing, at least whilst helping on a case. Mobius always was a bit pathetic. The Judge doesn’t waste any more time reflecting on L1130 however – she has too many other important duties to be concerned about.

Indeed, she doesn’t think of him again until the TVA is burning around them. All of the Judge’s purpose in existence, going up in flames and she simply stares, for once truly feeling the shock. L1130 rounds the corner, followed by Mobius and a small man in bland office attire. They are all carrying weapons. There is no history between the Judge and L1130, but she swears she can see hatred in the Variant’s eyes before they open fire.

The Judge is disintegrated in an instant.

#submission #//#OH MAN THIS IS SO GOOD??????????????#and!!!! Loki’s the most common variant!!!!!#bro the way he was just trying to make a better change #but ISNT ALLOWED TO #it’s tragic #it’s heart wrenching #it’s hilarious #I love it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#it’s so well written ???????#THANK #I love you #the Loki show #Loki spoilers #Loki show spoilers #TWLWTW

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im-a-writer-sometimes · 3 years

Text

The Sins of Your Father (Royal AU)

Pairing: Loki x reader

Description: Odin of the kingdom of Asgard has agreed to an alliance with Y/N’s small, troubled kingdom, offering his heir, Loki, as her husband. However, Y/N soon finds that this alliance is not the simple solution she had envisioned, and Loki is not the husband she would have wished for.

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Heyo! So this was inspired by a TikTok, which was inspired by the show Reign, so it’s just a little one-shot, and it’s all angst. Let me know if you want me to make this into a longer fic (or maybe even a series???).

---

Loki entered his chambers, his gaze immediately landing on Y/N where she sat waiting for him. He said nothing, his eyes darting away from her. Shit. Then the talk with his father hadn’t gone well.

“What news?” She asked, knowing she probably didn’t want the answer.

“The decision has been made,” he said, shrugging off his tunic, leaving him in his loose, white undershirt. “We will push back the marriage while we continue peace talks with Khidd. My father has already agreed.”

“I haven’t,” Y/N said. “And I don’t care for any more peace talks. The Khiddish have been attacking my people and getting away with it for too long. Once we marry, we can unify our troops and force them out of Fianmoor.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” he said slowly, as if he were explaining something to a child. “We can’t gamble our troops prematurely when there is a chance we won’t even have to.”

“Gamble? It is a gamble for my small army, for the private mercenaries I’ve had to hire. But it is not a Gamble for the Asgardian army. You could banish them within a week, if you so pleased.”

“Well, we do not so please. So, this conversation is over.”

She gawked at his back as he poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter next to his bed. Completely unfazed, he eyed her as he turned around, sipping his drink and lifting his brows as if to say, why are you still here?

“And you’ve made this decision. Without any input from me?”

“We have to do what is best for Asgard. Fianmoor’s interests do not always align-”

“Bullshit. You agreed to an alliance with me. Asgardian and Fianmorish interests are one and the same.”

He took a long sip. “Not yet, they’re not.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Her approach wasn’t working. He wasn’t listening to reason; he was refusing to see it from her point of view. Fine. She would just have to force the problem onto him, make him realize she wasn’t the only one who would be burned by this decision.

“So what? You wait until Khidd has taken over Fianmoor and you have a useless alliance with a powerless monarch. What good does that do you?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance? Insecurity? A mixture of both?

“I said this conversation is over. You can see yourself out.”

“And what of the things you promised me? Not just my country, but me? You promised me a seat at the table; you promised me a voice. And now you would go back on your promise just to bow at every whim of your father?”

He set his drink down with a firm clink, standing up from where he leaned against the table.

“The decision has been made,” he said softly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh, she had struck a nerve. From what she had observed of the prince, Loki wasn’t the angriest when he was yelling, or screaming, or even assaulting someone. No. Loki’s true, unadulterated wrath was quiet and measured, and it was swimming behind his eyes right in that moment.

“I do not accept your decision,” she said quietly, but firmly.

“And who’s decision will you accept?”

“Ours.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes glued to hers as she stared back, unflinching.

“I am the future king of Asgard, I don’t answer to you.”

“I am the future queen, am I not?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “You are. And a queen respects her king’s decisions.”

“I will not offer respect when you refuse to offer it in return.”

He said nothing, turning his back to her and picking up his drink again.

“Unless you want a marriage like your parents.”

The muscles on his back tightened, his whole body going deadly still.

“Unless you want me to accept your abuse, and turn the other cheek, all in the name of respecting my king. Unless you want me to watch you grow more and more like your father-”

“He is not my father!”

She stumbled back a step as Loki whipped around, his voice bellowing. Maybe she was wrong about his rage being quiet, maybe this was what an angry Loki truly looked like. But as the echoes of his words died down, and he stood there frigid as a plank of wood, she knew this wasn’t anger. This was fear. She hadn’t just struck a nerve, she had torn it out of his body and put it on display for the both of them. His next words were soft, but there was no kindness in them.

“This marriage is a strategic political alliance, nothing more.”

The fear was gone, whether it had been replaced by his sudden indifference, or simply covered up, she didn’t know. But this conversation wasn’t over.

“Of course,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “How very like you to shut me down the second I get too close to the truth.”

He turned, pressing his hands against the surface of his bedside table, his face completely out of her view. “This conversation is over.”

“You do everything you can to distance yourself from your father because you’re terrified that you’ve already become him.”

“This conversation is over,” He repeated, his voice straining as he tried to refrain from yelling again.

“No, this conversation is bullshit, Loki! I don’t care who your father is, or who you are for that matter. All that matters is that I deserve respect and I will receive it, whether it be from you or from someone else.”

His breath caught, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder. “You would threaten this alliance?”

“You already have.”

He shook his head, starting to pace. “You are out of your mind, Y/N. This is the sensible thing for both of our countries, and you don’t have any other options.”

“Don’t I? The future Plaghian king has already shown interest, and he has enough military resources to fend off Khiddish attacks.”

Loki paused. “You’re serious. You would leave this all behind, for-for what? Spite?”

“I would leave it all behind, leave you behind, for the good of my people. I will not have a frightened, cowardly child sharing my throne.”

He bristled, his fists clenching at his sides. “You call me a child, yet you are the one threatening to break off an engagement over a single argument!”

“I will do what is best for my people. And if you want a fighting chance for this marriage, this alliance,” she spat out the word as if it had curdled on her tongue, “then you will do the same.”

“What is best for my people is a queen who respects her king.”

“No, Loki, that is what’s best for you.” And maybe she should have shut up, maybe she should have called it a night, and left him to stew, knowing that he would probably try to compromise with her after sleeping on it. But he had already torn open their relationship, their agreement, so she said one last thing as she left, hovering by the door. “But what can I say, it worked for your father.”

He looked up, and there wasn’t anger or fear in his eyes. There was pain, the bottomless, all-consuming kind. A part of her longed to close the distance between them, to hold him until that pain had a bottom, and they could find it together, and she could pull him out.

But a much stronger part of her was bitter, and that part of her carried her from his room, hoping that pain would consume him whole.

---

Lmk if you want me to make this into a longer fic or a series :)

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki angst #loki smut #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki au #royal au #loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagines #the sins of your father

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professorrw · 3 years

Note

Hey could I please request a LokixReader story set on Sakaar where they have an enemies to friends to lovers relationship? Lots of fluff and smut if that’s okay. Thank you xxxx

Lord have mercy is this long. I love the request (probably a little too much). I have to warn you before reading, it's 6.6K words, the longest fic I've written yet. BUT I love it. I'm really proud of it!

Pairing: female reader x Loki

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, praise, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, fighting (Hulk and Thor), spoilers for Thor Ragnarok, takes place during Ragnarok

A/N: And with this finished I'm going to take a day to myself tomorrow! I'm not feeling very well and I want to catch up on my series because I've been neglecting it. Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You could ask anyone on Sakaar who the Grandmaster’s favorite person was and they would say it was you. You grew up on the trash planet with your father, who was a reject from his home planet. But on Sakaar you were basically royalty. Your father befriended the million year old Grandmaster when you were just two and from then on you were living in the lap of luxury.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been on Sakaar, but it had been a few hundred years. You didn’t look that old, more like twenty to thirty. But there was no way to be certain with the way that time worked on Sakaar.

Your life was perfect in your opinion. You and your father were happy and healthy on the trash planet. Every day you would dress in your finest silk robes, adorn your flashy face paint, and go to the arena to watch fights. When you weren’t doing that you were in your home or with the Grandmaster, who was basically a second father to you.

It was the end of the day and you were eating dinner with the Grandmaster, your father, and some other ‘royalty.’ As typical with all meals held by the Grandmaster it was full of excited and animated talking and extravagant food. You were too busy drinking your wine to engage in conversation, unlike your father who hadn’t touched his plate in favor of speaking to the man next to him.

Your father was a very social man, probably why the Grandmaster took such a liking to him. They were equally as flamboyant and outgoing. the Grandmaster often remarked how much you looked like your father. You had the same hair color, eye color and shape, and skin tone. Though you couldn’t tell your father’s true hair color anymore because it had started greying, contrary to the rest of his body that wasn’t aging as quickly.

There was a knock at the dining room door and the Grandmaster called for whoever it was to come in. The noise had drawn everyones’ attention, and all eyes were on the man that was being escorted in. He was tall, with fair skin and raven black hair. He was the most attractive man you had seen in a while. He didn’t look like a lot of the men you saw, but he still looked elegant.

“Who is this?” the Grandmaster asked.

Instead of waiting for the guards to speak, the detainee spoke, “I am Loki, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. I would like to say right now that it is a mistake imprisoning me and I will forget all about it if you let me go right now.” Loki spoke swiftly and with an accent foreign to many you heard normally. He had a very charming speech but you were in utter shock at the way he had spoken to the Grandmaster.

You expected the Grandmaster to order the guards to throw him in with the other gladiators and make him go against the champion, but he actually laughed, followed by everyone else in the room other than you.

“Well, Loki, I suppose I don’t need to make you fight. You can keep me company instead. How does that sound?”

It must not have been what Loki was expecting because he raised his eyebrows and said nothing for several seconds. “I think that would be fine,” he finally responded.

“Good, good. Why don’t you take that off him so he can pull up a chair?” the Grandmaster said to the guards. They did as he ordered and unshackled the dark haired man. As soon as he was free he grabbed a chair and planted right in between the Grandmaster and you. Loki sat down and gazed at you, offering a dazzling smile.

You squinted at him for a moment, sizing him up. You knew he was going to be trouble, to you at least.

“Ah Loki, please meet Y/N. She’s like a daughter to me,” the Grandmaster said to him.

“Hello Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His words were so obviously a lie that it made you scowl. You could hear the sarcasm seeping from his words. You could tell that he was already trying to butter up the Grandmaster. But in actuality he was trying not to get himself killed. Thor was nowhere to be found and he was on this planet by himself.

“Likewise,” you said back. You turned away from the men and started eating your meal, pointedly ignoring Loki as you did so. You could hear their conversation and it was almost impossible not to eavesdrop. The Grandmaster was mostly talking about himself, all things that you’d already heard before. Loki, when given the chance to talk, was just complimenting him in return.

When the meal was over and the dishes were collected the Grandmaster addressed your father. “My dear Holden, would you house my company for the time being?”

You whipped your head over to the Grandmaster. You couldn’t believe the words that had just come from his mouth. You couldn’t believe he was asking you and your father to let Loki stay with you. But your father being your father would have no problem with it. You just knew he was going to accept.

As you expected he said, “Why of course, the more the merrier.”

Your house was incredibly close to the palace. There really was no need for guards to escort you and your father home but the Grandmaster thought it was necessary. So after dinner you, your father, and Loki made your way to your home. It was very beautiful, and almost as grand as the palace itself, but much smaller.

Your father was in high spirits as usual. Once you were inside your father turned to Loki with a brilliant smile adorning his face. "We are delighted to have you. Please follow me, you can sleep here in the guest bedroom. Y/N is right next door so you can go to her if you need anything."

You looked at your father with a deadpan expression, which he didn't seem to notice. Loki on the other hand was positively beaming back at your father.

"Thank you so much for the hospitality. I really cannot thank you enough."

Your father chuckled, "It's no trouble at all. Any guest of the Grandmaster's is a guest of mine. So please, make yourself at home."

"Thank you again. I am quite tired so I think I'll be heading to bed. Goodnight Holden, goodnight Y/N." He bowed and went to his chambers without another word.

You looked incredulously at your father but he seemed to not have a care in the world. He was awfully aloof when it came to matters dealing with the Grandmaster. Your father and the Grandmaster had a complicated relationship. You really had no clue what was going on with them. They called each other dear and said they loved each other, but you had seen the Grandmaster and your father doing a fair share of flirting with many men and women.

You walked to your own room with a heavy sigh. You stayed up for a few hours that night wondering about the man next door.

You quickly realized that the Grandmaster had taken a liking to Loki. The next morning you, your father, and Loki were having breakfast with the Grandmaster and Loki was hanging onto every word that came out of the man's mouth. You just knew that Loki didn't care. But what you want to know are his intentions. He randomly shows up on your planet and instantly catches the Grandmaster's attention.

You spend most of the morning with your father, preferring his company to the Grandmaster and his new pet. The next time you saw him was at lunch. And just like at dinner the previous night Loki was sitting right next to the Grandmaster. Instead of enduring the empty compliments that were coming from Loki you decided to sit farther down the table next to another one of your father's friends.

"Hello Marridija," you said as you sat down. Marridija was a very kind woman. Kind and very up to date on all the goings on at the palace. It was no surprise that she was close to the Grandmaster.

"Why hello Y/N. You aren't sitting at the front of the table today?" Her drawn-on eyebrows drew in and she tilted her head to the side slightly, making you worry that her hair, which was styled heavily with spray to keep it straight up, would tip over and ruin. Over the many years on Sakaar you had grown accustomed to the wild fashion in the palace. Everyone in the Grandmaster's group wore metallic face paint and did their hair as tall and elaborate as possible.

Out of everyone at the table Marridija had the craziest hair and brightest makeup. She always made sure she was seen in a crowd. Her hair was bubble gum pink and looked like cotton candy on top of her head. Her makeup was many bright streaks of pink, blue, and gold.

"No, not today. I thought I might try something new."

"Oh. Well I'm delighted that you decided to sit by me. I've been meaning to ask-" her eyes cut from you to something over your shoulder before returning to talking, "about your company last night."

You clenched your jaw for a second before you answered her. "What would you like to know?"

"Well… the whole palace wants to know about this mysterious man. Loki, he said." She was speaking in a hushed voice so no one other than you could hear her. If anyone heard her they would most definitely be listening in. But Marridija was good at being quiet when she needed to be. She wanted to be the first with fresh gossip, and for that she would have to hear it before anyone else.

“There isn’t much to tell really. As soon as we got home he went off to his bedroom.”

The woman narrowed her eyes for a second before giving a huff. “Oh Y/N, you won’t give an old lady a bit of juice now will you?” Her face changed from a pout to a sly smile a few seconds after she said that. “Or is there something you don’t want to share with me? A secret of your own perhaps?”

“Absolutely not Marridija. What I’ve told you is the truth. I’m sorry I have nothing juicy enough for your ears.”

You turned away from the woman and forward towards the table and the meal being set in front of you. Through the whole of breakfast you remained silent, listening to the chatter around you. There always seemed to be something to talk about on Sakaar, but with Loki’s arrival and the Grandmaster’s liking towards him has made Loki the center of attention.

After breakfast the guests were clearing out of the dining hall. The Grandmaster had dismissed everyone and he and Loki were the last to leave. You stuck around and when the Grandmaster went to use the restroom and left Loki unoccupied you walked up to him. A smile appeared on his face as he saw your smaller frame scowling at him as you neared. For whatever reason he was quite enjoying how frustrated he was making you, though he didn’t know what exactly was making you mad.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted.

“Don’t act all innocent. You’re up to something.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up but his smile remained. “And what would that be?”

“Well I’ve come to find that out.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet in front of Loki. It wasn’t your best look but you wanted to intimidate him. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He was taller than you and obviously confident enough to tell the Grandmaster it was a mistake to imprison him.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, as they say, but I don’t have anything planned. I landed here by mistake.” Loki said the words so simply you just couldn’t believe it. If he was telling the truth then it would take more than that to convince you.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Well I suppose you shouldn’t. You don’t know me, you don’t know my past or all the things I’ve done. Maybe we could spend some time together and you’ll realize I’m being honest.”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he said that last part. He had never offered to let someone get to know him. But a part of him also wanted someone to be able to talk to since he was all alone on a planet he was an outsider on. And it helped that he thought you were incredibly attractive.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to make of his words. If you accepted you might be falling right into his trap, into his plan. But on the other hand maybe he was being genuine. It surely wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. If he was lying then you could possibly find out his intentions. So you thought the only logical decision would be to accept.

“Fine. After dinner we’ll go to my home and we can… get to know each other. But only because I want to know if you’re telling the truth.”

He laughed, “Of course, of course. See you then.”

The door you were standing next to opened and the Grandmaster himself walked out. He clasped his hands together and a smile appeared on his face. “Y/N! Thank you for keeping Loki company. Are you two getting along?”

You and Loki glanced at each other. There was no way you were going to say no, both of you had common sense. So you both put on a smile and looked as comfortable as possible.

“We are!” Loki said first. He put a huge grin on his face and leaned towards you, draping an arm around your shoulder. The sudden touch almost made you recoil, but if you did that it would look strange to the man that had just questioned your relationship.

“Well Loki and I should be going. I’ll see you at supper gorgeous.” The Grandmaster wiggled his fingers at you with an award winning smile. Loki took his arm off you and started following after him when the Grandmaster began to walk away. A hole might have been burnt into the back of Loki’s head from your staring. He was so puzzling. Irksome even.

The footsteps eventually faded as they walked further and further away from you and closer to wherever it was they were going. Your own slippered feet padded against the floor of the palace as you made your way down to the bottom level, outside, and safely in your home. It was a shame that most of the people your age were bounty hunters. You were all in all lonely. Maybe that’s what led you to agree to getting to know Loki.

You assumed he was around your age. He claimed to be a god after all, so he must be more than the average person.

Dinner rolled around and you went to the palace to eat as you did everyday. Loki was there. Though you knew he would be. You weren’t used to his presence just yet, so every time you saw him you were still slightly surprised. You were used to being around the ‘royalty’ of Sakaar for years and attending the same mundane events all the time. Loki was something new, something fresh. That’s why he was such a buzz on Sakaar. Especially when he made such an impression on the Grandmaster.

After the meal you went home and waited for Loki. You knew he would have to tell the Grandmaster some excuse for him to leave, so he was going to be a few minutes behind you.

Ten minutes after you had arrived home the door opened and Loki walked in. You couldn't help but laugh when you saw the exasperated expression on his face. You knew just how tiring the Grandmaster could be. Upon hearing the ring of your laughter Loki smiled. It was the first time he heard you make that sound and thought it was beautiful.

He slung his hair out of his face and slid into the white bar stool next to you at the kitchen island. You already had two glasses of champagne ready for the two of you. Assuming you would need it.

"What did you have to tell him to let you leave?" you asked, raising the glass to your lips.

"Well I told him I was tired and he just laughed it off then I said I was having an upset stomach and wasn't doing so well down there and he let me go."

Neither of you could hold back laughter. You were the first to start cracking up and seeing your reaction influenced Loki's joyous noise. The atmosphere was smooth and laid back. In preparation you had a drink beforehand, hence why you were so calm. Loki's smile and infectious attitude were also to blame.

In the time span of lunch and coming home you realized how ridiculous you were being. You had only just met Loki yesterday and you were already trying to accuse him of trying to harm the creator of your planet.

Once the laughter had died down you set your glass on the countertop and turned to Loki. "I'm sorry for how I've acted towards you. I haven't treated you fairly or given you a chance at all. I started jumping to conclusions and that was wrong of me. So I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me."

“Wow- I- Yes I can forgive you. I understand where you were coming from. You care about the Grandmaster and don't want him to be in danger. I think that’s very noble of you.” The corners of Loki’s eyes crinkled up as he looked at you with a soft smile.

“Well… thank you. I’m glad we’re on good terms.” You gave him an awkward smile and took another sip of your drink. Loki picked up his own and took a sip of it.

"So your father and the Grandmaster… are they together?" he asked once his glass was empty.

“I’m not entirely sure. They’re relationship is complicated. I know they call each other love and darling but they also flirt and do things with other people too.” You cringed at the memory of coming home and hearing your father with one of his friends. But beside you Loki let out a chuckle. He was really enjoying getting to see this new side of you.

With a final tip of your flute you had finished your drink. Looking over you realized that Loki had too, so you stood and refilled it.

“I just realized I didn’t ask you if you wanted another glass,” you said when you had finished pouring.

He waved you off. “Don’t worry, I do.”

You slid his flute across the counter and leaned on it, not bothering to go back around to sit on the stool again. “So, you said that you ended up here by accident… what did you mean by that?”

“Ah, trying to find out if I’m lying again? I thought this was behind us,” he said.

“I’m not asking because of that. It is behind us. I want to know more about you and what you were doing before you got to Sakaar.”

He nodded. “Well I was with my brother. Though I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Time works differently here,” you interjected. “So if you both came through at the same time he might get here later than you did.”

“Ah okay, well that explains it then. Anyways, I was with my brother, Thor. My sister, Hela, has cast us out of Asgard and we need to get back there and defeat her. We don’t stand a chance though,” he explained.

“If you need help getting there then I’m sure my father and I can be of assistance.”

“I think I should wait for Thor to arrive, whenever that is…” he trailed off.

“He could show up any day. But while you’re here you can hang out with me.” “When you’re not with the Grandmaster that is,” you added.

“I don’t know how often I’ll be able to get away from him but I’ll definitely try.”

The last drops of your champagne slid down your throat as you smiled against your glass. You were really looking forward to getting to spend time with Loki.

For the next few days after that you guys were together any chance you got. The Grandmaster was keeping Loki close, but he was able to make up excuses to come see you when he could. Loki was like a breath of fresh air in your life. His life was a lot different than yours, but you found yourselves relating in multiple ways.

Every time you two were together all you could do was smile. It was like you had found your first true friend. But you knew that when Thor came that Loki would be leaving. Even though it was wrong you hoped that Thor wouldn’t arrive for a while just so you could have more time together.

It was a little over a week since Loki had arrived and you were laying next to each other on your leisure ship, staring up at the stars.

“It’s beautiful, everything here is,” Loki whispered. You were looking straight above you but when Loki was speaking he had turned his head towards you.

“It’s strange isn’t it? It’s called the trash or garbage planet but it’s dazzling if you take the time to look around.” When you finished speaking you rolled your head to the side to look at Loki. The whole time you were speaking he was memorizing every part of your face with a smile on his own. When you saw him smiling you shyly smiled too.

Without you realizing Loki reached his hand over and found yours. When he did he took it and interlocked your fingers. You looked down at your entwined hands. Your heart was racing and butterflies were filling your stomach.

No words were spoken, it was just the two of you underneath a blanket of twinkling stars wishing for something more. Loki’s hand was warm in yours, and you wished that same warmth would envelop your whole body. You scooted over closer and closer to the man until he wrapped his arm around you.

“This is nice,” you mumbled against his chest.

“It is. I like having you in my arms,” Loki whispered back.

You let your eyes close and the warmth and blissful feeling take over you. You woke up in bed, wrapped up in your covers. The sun was shining and filtering through your windows and splaying out on your floor. You thought back to last night and remembered you must have fallen asleep, which meant Loki must have taken you home and carried you to bed.

You walked out of your bedroom and stood right outside your door. You weren’t sure what time it was. It was morning that was obvious. Maybe it was early enough that Loki hadn’t been summoned by the Grandmaster yet. You walked over to the bedroom next to your own and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Loki called out.

You opened the door and gently shut it back when you entered. Loki was still in bed but he was awake.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted you.

A tired smile went across your face as you sat down on Loki’s bed. He reached out to you and pulled you into him, setting you flush against his frame and placing a kiss on top of your head.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“I slept well. Thank you for bringing me back home.”

“It was my pleasure.” Loki tilted his head down and kissed the top of your head once more. His actions were so sweet you were feeling things you had never felt before. It was wild to you how quickly you had fallen for the God of Mischief.

After laying together for a few minutes there was a knock at the front door. You sighed and got out of Loki’s bed. The guards had arrived to escort Loki and you to breakfast with the Grandmaster. You both hurriedly got dressed and left to start your day.

For another two weeks things ran smoothly. You were happy. Loki was making you happy. But you knew that the day that Thor would arrive was approaching. It had been three weeks since Loki himself had fallen onto the planet, meaning his brother was not far behind.

You were sitting with Loki and mingling with other people in one of the palace rooms when Scrapper 142 announced she found someone. 142 was Grandmaster’s favorite scrapper. She brought him his champion after all. The person she had brought came into the room in the usual reinforced chair that all contenders usually did.

Loki was sitting next to you not paying any attention and neither were you until the man started yelling Loki’s name. You looked at him with confusion before you realized, it must be Thor.

When Thor finally got Loki’s attention he immediately stopped talking and got up. They were whispering back and forth fervently until the Grandmaster came up to them and interjected. They talked for a minute before Thor was thrown into the holding area for gladiators.

“That was your brother wasn’t it? Thor?” you asked when Loki came back over to you.

“Yes, yes it was.” He lowered himself back onto the couch and stayed quiet.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting him.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded. Not only did you understand but you felt the same way. You hoped maybe Thor would show up later, and give you more time. But no. He was there and when given the chance he was definitely going to leave. But that wouldn’t be too soon. If he was fighting the Grandmaster’s champion he may never leave. You had seen the green monster in action and he was brutal.

Later that day you and Loki were sitting in the upper class stands at the Grand Arena watching the fights. Loki was constantly wiping his palms on his pants and his leg was bouncing up and down. He had never seen the champion fight but you had told him how ferocious he was and that made Loki nervous.

The Grandmaster announced Thor and when he came out onto the dirt the crowd was filled with ‘boos’ and other jeers. The ring around the bottom of the stadium begins to rise to accommodate the height of Thor's opponent and the Grandmaster started to announce him.

“Ladies and gentlemen I give you… your Incredible…” he trailed off, or at least you thought he did because before he could say the actual name the fighter burst through the doors and yelled, “HULK!”

The blood drained from Loki’s face next to you. “I’ve got to get off this planet,” he mumbled.

“Why what’s wrong?” you asked, worried.

“The Grandmaster’s champion is an Avenger, just like Thor. And he’s defeated me.”

Down on the dirt Thor had looked up into your box and was yelling, “We know each other! He’s a friend from work.”

The Grandmaster’s mouth dropped open and he looked over at Loki, who was staring straight forward and clearing his throat.

Thor was making small talk with Hulk before you heard him look over and shout again, “Loki! Look who it is!”

You’d never seen Loki so nervous and afraid. You reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay.”

Down below Hulk was tired of hearing Thor talk and started running towards him. The fight was in full force and Loki was getting more nervous by the second. Hulk was in it to win it, and he wasn’t sure if his brother would be able to make it out. Surprisingly Thor was able to hit Hulk, sending him all across the barrier on the arena. The crowd was silent as Thor neared Hulk. He placed his hand in Hulk’s massive one and started speaking, but you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

They weren’t fighting and everyone was still and watching. Then Hulk grabbed Thor and swung him back and forth, hitting him against the ground countless times. Loki jumped up, startling you, and shouted, “Yes that’s how it feels!”

The Grandmaster looked over at him questionably and Loki responded with, “I’m just a huge fan of the sport.” The Grandmaster didn’t say anything, just turned back toward the arena and laughed.

Loki sat back down and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “What was that about?”

“Well… Hulk did that to me a few years ago.”

“Really?” you laughed.

“Yes. It wasn’t one of my finest moments,” he chuckled. You both settled back down on the couch and focused on the match again. The fight progressed and favor switched between Hulk and Thor for a minute or two. The Grandmaster and Loki were leaning in and cringing depending on the blow and who it had landed on. But things weren’t looking good for Thor. Hulk had him pinned down and was beating him to death.

Blow after blow was pounding down right on Thor’s face. Then something happened. You strained your eyes to see that Thor’s eyes began to glow and lighting began to glow and crackle all around his body. He seemed to gather his strength for a second, wind back his hand and land a punch right to Hulk, sending him flying with an arch of lightning, resulting in a collective gasp from the stands.

Hulk collapsed yards away from Thor. The Grandmaster raised out of his seat, stepped forward and stared at the scene below you. The crowd was murmuring and whispering all kinds of things. You looked over at Loki, who had his elbows propped up on his knees with his mouth wide open.

Thor and Hulk both stood up and ran towards each other, jumping and then hitting one another. It was like a mini-explosion where Thor’s fist collided with Hulk. You were on the edge of your seat. It seemed like Thor could win. The crowd sure seemed to think so because they were chanting, “Thunder! Thunder! Thunder!”

Your full attention was drawn on the arena and a perplexed expression crossed your face when Thor violently shook and then fell to the ground. You looked around and saw the Grandmaster pointing his activator down at Thor, activating his Obedience Disk. You couldn’t believe it. If the Grandmaster wouldn’t have interfered then Thor could have won. He could be freed.

The Grandmaster stood up with a smile and started his projection onto the center of the arena, “Well done! Well done! Two very good fighters, but it looks like my champion has defended his title once again. Thank you everyone for attending today, I hope to see you at the next battle!”

His projection disappeared and people started to file out of the stands. You could tell by the silence that followed that the Grandmaster wasn’t too happy. He walked out of the room followed by guards, leaving everyone else alone. Loki was leaning back on the couch next to you slack-jawed.

“That wasn’t fair,” you breathed out.

He shook his head, “No, no it wasn’t.”

“At least he didn’t die. He should be okay for now,” you said, talking about Thor.

“Thank god.”

You and Loki returned home and sat down on the living room couch. You never got the chance to talk about Thor’s arrival but now no one else was around.

“You might be leaving soon,” you said.

“I may.” Loki reached his hand over and took one of yours in his. You couldn’t mistake the sadness in his voice.

“I won’t make you stay. If you need to go then you should.” You looked at Loki with pure earnestness in your eyes. It hurt to say it, but if Loki and his brother needed to leave then you didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t.

“Y/N I don’t want to go. I want to stay here… with you.”

“What about your sister? Didn’t you say she was trying to take over Asgard, your home?” you questioned with a soft voice.

“Yes but- we don’t stand a chance. If we go we’ll only die. There’s no hope for us.”

You faced your whole body towards him and dipped your head down so Loki could see your face. “You don’t know that. You’re strong and I know you aren’t a coward.”

He stayed quiet but squeezed your hand and met your eyes.

“If you need to go, don’t let me hold you back,” you repeated.

Loki strained up and gave a stern look forward as he nodded his head. “You’re right. I do need to go. Asgard is my home.” He bent his head towards you and spoke, “But I want to make my time with you count.” He leaned in and tilted his head, eyes trained on your lips. You also leaned in and closed your eyes, letting yourself dissolve into the tender kiss.

It heated up quickly, pants filling the air between you every time you parted. You crawled on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands glided from your shoulder blades to your butt, caressing you.

You pulled away and opened your eyes for a second, your face only inches from his. “Should we take this to my room?”

“Yes, we should.” Loki raised up, holding you in his arms and carrying you to your room. You slid out of his arms right in front of the foot of your bed. He started undressing, pulling off his cape, boots, and other components of his complicated outfit. Yours was much easier to get off. All you did was kick off your slippers and undo your dress in the back and let it pool at your feet.

The whole process took a few minutes and you giggled when you had to help Loki undress.

“This is a mood killer,” Loki sighed.

“It’s okay,” you giggled. You pulled off the last garment including Loki’s underwear and he turned around to let you see him. He was so beautiful, every single thing about him. You could definitely believe he was a god, because he sure looked like one. Your wandering eyes made him chuckle, but he couldn’t say anything because he was doing the same.

His hands hovered over your hips, almost like he was afraid to touch you or else you would crumble in front of him. You smiled up Loki and put your hands over his, guiding them to your bare skin. He sharply inhaled as he felt how smooth and warm your skin was. He let out a small laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being so lucky as to have you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He lifted you up again and walked over to your bed until his knees hit the edge. He crawled on and lowered you down onto the fluffy pillows. Your body was on display for him and he was completely swooning over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe.

“And you,” you reached up and pulled him closer to you by his shoulders, “are very handsome.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Since he was already down there he crept lower and lower, placing gentle kisses from your cheek all the way down to your lower stomach. Your breath hitched as his breath fanned over your vagina. He gave it a small kiss before he leaned back. He replaced his mouth with his fingers, sliding them up and down your folds before inserting one.

He surveyed your face as he began to curl his finger making you start moaning quietly.

“Does it feel good?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” you moaned out.

He smiled and continued to work you up, building the pressure inside your lower stomach. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You tried to, but with all the new feelings going on you were squeezing them shut. Loki frowned and cupped your cheek with his hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

“Princess, will you look at me?” he asked. You opened your eyes and did as he asked. You kept your eyes open but your lids were only half open.

You loved the way his fingers felt but you wanted more- you wanted him. “Loki- Loki I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He pulled his fingers out and wrapped that hand around his cock, pumping it and getting it ready to be inside you. He spread your legs further than they already were and walked forward on his knees until his tip was right against your entrance. You put his hand around it and guided it in slowly, letting you adjust to the length.

Your hands were on either side of your pillow and you were squeezing it. It wasn’t very painful, but it didn’t feel right to just have your hands open, so you clenched them around your silk pillowcase. Loki saw them and put his own hands on top of yours. As he rolled his hips into you that’s what kept him stable.

“Darling, you make me feel-” he moaned, “so good.”

The inside of you was warm and velvety, encasing his dick in a personal heaven. In just a few minutes he knew what was going to come. Him.

Loki was making you feel just as good as you were making him, if not better. You weren’t a virgin. You had lived long enough to want men and take them back home with you. But none of them were making you feel the way Loki was. He knew exactly what to do, what pace to go at, and all the right words to say. The gentle moans and vulnerable face were so beautiful above you that tears were staining your cheeks.

Worry crossed Loki’s face, he thought you were hurting. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

“I’m fine, you’re just- you’re so beautiful.”

He choked out a laugh and regained his original pace. The compliment had warmed his entire body. He was on cloud nine. There was a growing sensation in his lower region and he could feel his orgasm coming.

“I’m about to cum,” he panted.

“Go ahead darling, cum for me,” you returned. His eyes widened but he went ahead, cock stiffening before releasing his cum.

You moaned, head falling to the side from the buzz traveling through your body. You arched your back in an attempt to hurry your own orgasm along. You could feel it approaching but it couldn’t get there soon enough for you. Loki thrusted faster and tried to hit that spot that he knew you had. He succeeded, and an overwhelming pleasure drifted through you.

Your walls clenched around his dick and your own juices squirted out. You sniffed and wiped your tears, opening your eyes to see Loki’s face in complete and utter amazement. You laughed a little as he pulled out of you and rolled over to be by your side.

“What was that face for?” you asked.

“That was the best I’ve ever felt. You are… perfect in every way.”

“I feel the same about you.” You turned on your side and placed a hand on his cheek, just like he had done to you a few minutes prior.

He nuzzled closer to you, putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll come back for you. I promise,” he whispered.

“I’ll be waiting,” you responded while stroking his hair.

Taglist: @deanscroissant

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bedlamsbard · 2 years

Note

Writing asks - 2, 10

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

I can't write anything short which is somewhat unfortunate. (I've done shorter fic in the past but not in many years.) Partially because of the way my brain works, I do a lot of consequences; I think in plots and subplots and casts of thousands, which is not really compatible with one-shots or anything short. It is what it is. It's not that big of a deal because I like writing chaptered fic, but also sometimes I wish I could just write normal makeouts or something. (I also actually tend to get bored writing makeouts.)

If this is in terms of like...specific plots...not right now. Oh, wait, no actually, I do have one: I'd like to finish Dust in the Air, but there's a lot of problems with that, and the chiefest amongst them are (a) Dust is in present tense and I don't write in present tense anymore and (b) Dust is a mess because at the time I did not have the self-control I have now and to get it to my standards I'd have to completely strip it and rewrite it which is not happening any time soon.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

ALTERNATE VERSIONS OF THE SAME CHARACTER FROM ALTERNATE UNIVERSES my faaaaaaave. there's a reason that as soon as the MCU went there I basically showed up with bells on. I don't think there's ever actually been a canon version of this trope that I've loved the execution of, because I always do single-point divergence, which is the standard in fandom, but not in canon executions of this trope (MCU being a really clear example of this right now, between Loki, What If?, NWH, and what it's looking like MOM will be; I still have my conspiracy theory that Thor: Love and Thunder is also going to do this). But it's my fave and I love writing it.

related but not the exact same trope: universe hopping. take one set of characters (usually the canon version) and drop them into an alternate universe. have them go "dude, what the FUCK." excellent. love it. have written it (Ouroboros), am currently writing it (Morning), will write it in the future (Yonder sequel has it planned). this is another one where canon executions of it run the gamut from "mmm, okay" (I will forever be disappointed in What If? because What If? was set up to be my favorite combination of things ever and then it just blew it, same with Loki) to "ooh, interesting" (honestly that Stargate SG-1 ep "There But for the Grace of God" was formative) to "that was a lot of fun" (ITSV is great, NWH is great, Fringe ran the entire gamut at different points).

also related, but not the same thing as either of the above: mirrorverses/roleswaps (but preferably logical ones (my preference is for single point divergences but that's not a requirement) and not just "these characters are arbitrarily in opposite roles"). yes, I do want to see what my faves are doing when XYZ has resulted in them being in what seems to be the opposite role from their canon role. I write it a lot. I don't necessarily read it a lot, because I don't really read in my writing fandoms and I don't actually like "these characters are evil now," which is what a lot of mirrorverses tend to be, but I love writing it. (Wake, Gambit, Backbone, what was planned for Watchtower and Crown, Morning, Yonder; those are all either mirrorverses or roleswaps.)

#slashmarks #bedlam replies #meme response

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

The Problem With Birthdays

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You want to enjoy your birthday with Loki, but your fears that one day no one will love you are keeping you from having fun. Warnings: a bit angsty; fluff A/N: 1/2 Happy Birthday to my best friend @lokistan!! 🥳🥳🥳 May you have the most wonderful day ever. As requested, here’s a birthday fic for you! I hope you enjoy ❤️ 2/2 This is technically a sequel to The Secret Admirer, but you don’t have to read that to enjoy this 😄

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Darling?” Loki called, walking into the common room where you were on the couch, book in hand.

“Right here, my love. What’s up?”

“We need to talk.” He came and sat beside you as set your novel down. He took your hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your knuckles. “About your birthday.”

“You know how much I love talking to you, but I actually have to go meet Carol and Lauren in the lab. Talk later?”

“You are avoiding this,” he replied simply as you stood up. “You know you can tell me anything, right my darling?”

You stood before him and fidgeted with your charm bracelet, a nervous tic you’d picked up ever since you started wearing it. It had been a gift from Loki back when he’d been your secret admirer, not your boyfriend. You were beyond happy with how things had worked out, and your relationship was the most pure, perfect thing you’d ever experienced. Still, doubts filled your mind. You’d never dared hope he was actually your secret admirer those many months ago, but you’d fantasized that he was. It was an understatement to say you’d been pleasantly surprised when he came clean. The smile he’d given you that night was perhaps the most radiant one ever.

“I know,” you finally replied. “Just, later. Ok?”

“As you wish.”

He pulled you back down for a kiss before letting you go to the lab. He had a feeling you’d made no plans to meet up with your friends, but if you wanted to go, he’d never hold you back. And that extended to if you wanted to leave the relationship, which is what he feared was happening now. With a sigh, he stood, too. He had a party of sorts to plan. Nothing big, just a small dinner for the Avengers. He knew that’s what you would want, considering how you seemed to wish to avoid anything to do with your birthday in the first place.

Meanwhile, you arrived at the lab where your two best friends were testing a new invention. You smiled as Lauren, Tony’s newest lab assistant, tested what you could only figure were jet pack boots of some kind. Kind of like the ones on the Ironman suit, but disguised to look like normal shoes. Carol flew beside her, making sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. Captain Marvel was in between intergalactic missions at the moment and was staying at the Tower to help keep an eye on things here on Earth. You didn’t know what it was about the two of them, but the three of you just clicked, and were now an inseparable trio.

“Hey! What’s up?” Lauren greeted once she had both feet planted firmly on the ground again.

“You look upset. Everything ok?” Carol asked, propping her elbows on one of the lab tables.

“Relatively ok, I guess,” you replied, playing with your bracelet again. You were holding the horse charm in between your thumb and forefinger. Loki had given it to you as a gift, a reminder of when he’d confessed his feeling in a horse drawn carriage. “Just not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Carol said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s silly.”

“Look at me,” Lauren said, gently gripping your arms and giving you a light shake. “Don’t say that. Your feelings always matter; they’re not silly.”

“Thank you,” you said. “That means a lot to me. But, really, it’s alright.”

“Fine. But we’re here if you need us,” Carol said as they captured you in a group hug.

As you thanked them again, you could only hope that tomorrow would come and go without much fanfare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up so cozy in your bed, you didn’t want to get up. Maybe you could while away your birthday in bed, pretend you were sick. But, no. You knew that would only push celebrations back, not stop them.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki said, knocking on your door. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” you called in reply. “Come in.”

“Happy Birthday, my sweet,” he greeted, walking in. He sat next to you on your bed and planted a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered close to your skin as if he was hesitant to let you go, as if he thought he’d never be allowed to kiss you again. You looked up, your nose brushing against his, and kissed him on the lips. He smiled. “And how are you doing today?”

You’d never actually told him what was wrong yesterday. You wanted to talk to him, you really did, but you worried that by telling him your fears, they would come true.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

“Just ok?” he gasped. “Well, I know what will make that better.”

He waved his hands and trays of foods came flying in. There was bacon and pancakes and pastries and fruit bowls and just about everything else you could want. Honestly, it was far more than you could eat, but you definitely planned on sampling everything. You beamed at Loki, hugging him as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Breakfast in bed, darling?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please,” you grinned back.

You sat for a while longer, eating and watching your favorite show. Eventually you decided you might as well get up and face the day. Loki left to go make the final preparations for dinner while you showered. A little less than an hour later, you reluctantly got out of the warm water, and sat on your bed once more in a robe, just staring at a wall. You don’t know how long you stayed there for, but it took a great effort to stand up and get dressed.

Once you had on your comfiest pants and favorite sweater, you tried to leave the room. You ended up flopping down on the bed again. You wanted to spend the day with your friends, not to mention Loki, the love of your life, but your worries were petrifying you.

“Is everything ok in there?” Loki asked, at your closed door once more.

“Sort of.”

“May I come in?”

You got up and opened the door for him. If only it was as easy to do that metaphorically as it was literally. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin, an unasked question in his eyes. You looked down, unable to bear disappointing him. It hurt you to shut him out like this; you’d always been honest with each other. You gave him a shy smile as he carefully tilted your head up and kissed you again.

“I, uh, I guess I promised we’d talk,” you said.

“You did, but I will not hold you to it if you are uncomfortable sharing.”

Gosh you loved this man. “I want to talk, it’s just...” you sighed, and pulled him back over to the bed to sit again. “Birthdays are supposed to be a day to celebrate, right?”

“Indeed they are.” He softly caressed the side of your face, looking very much like he wanted to kiss all your troubles away. “Because we all love you.”

“Well, that’s just it,” you whispered, your voice soft as you turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes. “What if one year everyone realizes that they don’t love me? Then I’ll be spending every year, every day, every minute alone. I... I don’t want to lose you.”

Loki held you to his chest as you began to sob, wiping the now fallen tears from your cheeks. He cooed and kindly shushed you as you got it out of your system. You’d held it in so long you’d grown numb to the pain, but now you were feeling it full force.

Loki moved your sweater out of the way and kissed your shoulder, moving up your neck and to your wet cheeks. His heart broke a little bit as he tasted the salty drops on his lips. He so wished you hadn’t kept this bottled up, that you’d shared with him. Perhaps it was a little selfish, but he did also feel a spark of happiness at the moment of your confession since he thought you were about to say you didn’t love him anymore. Your thoughts were quite the opposite, in reality, and he cursed himself that he let you think that way for even a fraction of a second.

“I will always love you, darling,” he said as your cries slowly came to a stop, leaving hiccups in their wake. “And when I say always, I truly do mean forever and beyond the constraints of time. It was like a dream when you told me you felt the same way. My very own heavenly angel loved me, too. My heart, my soul, my passion, my darling. My love. Your insecurities are valid; everyone is allowed to have them. But I beg of you, come to me next time. We can work through them together.”

You sniffled to stop another set of tears. “I know. Thank you, Loki. I was worried that if I told you, you’d realize that you didn’t love me. But I know you do, really. And I love you so, so much, too.”

He pulled you down to be laying on the bed and wrapped his body around yours. When you were feeling better, you chatted a bit, keeping the conversation light after the heavy topics you’d been discussing. You finally told Loki you felt ready to go out and face the day, which was more then halfway over at this point. He checked to make sure you were certain of your decision, and after a kiss to each of your eyelids and the tip of your nose, escorted you out of your room.

“Happy Birthday!” the Avengers greeted you as you made your way into the common room.

Loki had taken your desire to keep celebrations simple to heart. There was a banner and some balloons, but that was it in the way of decorations. As for the team, they gave you kind hugs and thoughtful gifts, but no one made too big of a deal out of it. No shouting or crazy partying, just some quality time spent doing puzzles and playing board games and watching movies. Carol, Lauren, and a few of the others even hilariously recreated some of your favorite scenes from the films you’d picked. Of course, they were all making sure you knew you were loved and appreciated, too. In other words, it was perfect.

Dinner and dessert, your favorites served at both, were also amazing. You spent the time reminiscing and sharing stories from your childhood. Soon after, you retired to your room. After you got changed into your pajamas for the night, you met Loki in the living room of your large quarters. He was fiddling with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that you got there?” you asked, perching on the couch next to him.

“It is another gift for you, my darling,” he replied, presenting it to you.

You opened up the small pouch he’d handed you and pulled out a charm. It was a key, and you immediately added it to the growing collection on your bracelet.

“Thank you, my love,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

“And that is not all,” he grinned as you looked at him with excitement and surprise written plainly across your features. He pulled out a charm of his own on a necklace, hidden by his shirt. It was a heart with a lock carved into it. You looked again at the key and realized it would fit perfectly. “I want you to know that you have the key to my heart. I love you, my angel.”

“And I will protect it with everything I have in me. Because I love you, too, Loki. More than I can ever say.”

“Happy Birthday, darling.”

It may take some time, but you think you could grow to like your birthday. At very least, as Loki kissed you again, you knew you never had to worry about being left alone. No, not when Loki would be there for you until the end of time and every moment after.

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deadorcaffeinated · 3 years

Text

Cold Comfort

Pairing: Tony Stark x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Tony confides in you about attacking Bucky in Siberia. You have power over the electromagnetic spectrum, after being experimented on by Hydra for having overdeveloped empathy, and you are currently on house arrest in the Tower after the events of Civil War.

Word Count: 1258

A/N: This is kind of a non canon scene from a fic I’m in the process of writing. I just needed some comfort Tony lol.

“I lost it. If Steve hadn’t stopped me… “ he shook his head. “God help me, I would’ve killed him.”

The two of you stood at the wide expanse of windows looking out over the city, the same windows that Loki had thrown Tony through as easily as a kid with an errant baseball just a few years earlier.

He’d poured a scotch for you and himself, and though Tony usually took his neat, he’d plopped a couple of ice cubes into both of your glasses this time around. The summer heat had been brutal that day.

“You’re glad that Steve stopped you?” You asked softly. Tony didn’t meet your eyes, but stared out the window, taking a long pull of his drink. Ice clinking against the sides of his tumbler was the only sound cutting through the quiet.

“I definitely wasn’t at the time. Then, it was a betrayal. All I could see was red,” he swallowed hard, and you saw a vulnerability in Tony that you’d never witnessed in the man before. “All I could see was the monster who killed my mom.”

And the Tony you knew slipped away for a moment, his expression stormy. A mix of guilt and anger and utter sadness engulfed the planes of his face, and you laid a hand gently on his shoulder. He didn’t respond, but didn’t pull away either.

“It wasn’t his fault. I know that now. If Steve hadn’t stopped me… I would’ve killed an innocent man.”

“You would’ve stopped,” you said, pulling your hand back to yourself and sounding more sure than you felt.

He smiled without mirth, a bitterness to it. “No. No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Bucky is being treated, according to Steve,” you said, hoping the change in subject wouldn’t be too jarring. That this news might soothe Tony in the slightest.

Steve hadn’t shared the details with you— Just that King T’Challa had offered him the facilities of Wakanda to help his long-time best friend recover from years of mind control. You were skeptical at first, given that the same man had so recently been bent on killing Bucky to avenge his father’s death, but Steve assured you that when the new king had learned the truth of the attack on the UN, he’d quickly proceeded to offer this kindness to them.

You wished all world leaders had such a head on their shoulders.

“He said he remembered all of them.” Tony murmured, before draining his glass and turning to look at you.

“He does.”

Your short interactions with the former Winter Soldier all painted a picture of a man haunted by the horrible things his hands had done without permission of the person they belonged to. You shuddered to think that this had almost been your fate as well— if you hadn’t escaped that facility when you did, you would have simply been another mindless tool at Hydra’s disposal.

Tony nodded and studied his empty tumbler, swirling it as if there were still liquid inside. “I never meant for any of you to end up in that floating prison.”

“I know.”

“Did they do anything to you?” He asked abruptly. His tone was deceptively light, though an edge lurked underneath, revealing a note of anger and regret.

Tony was hardly one to openly show remorse. He usually bottled those kinds of emotions— something about his need to uphold the careless, playboy exterior. To be right, always. But at this moment, he looked anything but carefree. Right now, his shoulders hunched as if bracing for an impact, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Besides the collar and straight jacket?” You said, catching a flicker of something in his expression. “No.”

He slumped as if in relief, though retained a line of tension through his back and brow line.

“I’m sorry, kid,” and he genuinely looked it.

“I know, Tony.” You stepped closer to him, but kept your gaze out the window, watching as streaks of sunset began to peak over the skyline of New York. “Believe me, I wanted to be angry at the time. But you were just trying to keep the band together. Nothing about it was easy for anyone.”

Sparing a glance at him, Tony seemed to relax the slightest bit. You continued, “I can’t blame Cap, either.”

He scoffed softly, more tired than angry. “Stubborn son of a bitch.”

You smiled. “He’s not the only one.”

Tony hummed in agreement.

“Do you think they’ll ever get a pardon?” This was something that kept you up at night. Your friends fending for themselves, on the run in some other country, while you kept a cushy life in house arrest at the Tower.

“I’m sure as soon as the world needs help battling Godzilla or Megatron or Space Asshole the Third, they’ll miraculously find room in their hearts to grant as many pardons as needed.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

You and Tony stood there, and you knew that both of you were thinking about the same things… How complicated it had all become, how you missed your friends, wondering how you all had ever allowed it to get to this point.

And it didn’t help that Pepper and Tony were still on rocky terms. She was usually there to keep him grounded, in more ways than one— helping him from floating into the sky and from sinking to rock bottom. Without her around, he seemed… lost. Sometimes he disappeared into his shop for days, drowning himself in his builds so that he didn’t have to confront the feelings and problems that waited for him outside.

When this happened, you wouldn’t try to pull him out of the shop, as that was an exercise in futility. Instead, you opted to keep him company for a few hours, reading quietly, watching shows or YouTube videos, or just watching him work.

You would bring him a dish from whatever restaurant you ordered delivery from, or a portion of dinner you’d cooked, and either eat quietly or banter about frivolous things. Occasionally, he would explain what he was working on, or wax poetic about ACDC, but usually he just played music.

Sometimes, Tony would dance to the music, or ‘groove’ as he called it, causing you to grin and roll your eyes at him. But every so often, he would make you get up and learn some of what he called his “signature” moves. This usually left you both laughing and momentarily forgetting about everything that caused your collective melancholies.

And sometimes he would randomly say, “What’s the sitch’, Sparks?” (His nickname for you ever since you’d met and he’d observed your powers) and you would just go on about whatever book you were reading, or TV show you were binging on that given day. He would nod or ask a question or make a joke, so you knew he was paying attention, but it didn’t really matter to you either way. It was nice just to talk.

You cherished those moments that made you feel less alone in your ick. Your boring sort of depression.

There was so much to worry about, so many stressors or threats— be they existential or very real— and all of those weights sat heavily on you both. Even now, you could feel his despondency when you tuned into his energy field with your ability

Then Tony broke the heavy atmosphere with a clap on your shoulder.

“Come on, Sparks,” he took both your empty glasses over to the bar, placing them into a tray to be washed. “We can mope some more over dinner.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark oneshot #tony stark #tony stark imagine #iron man #avengers imagine #tony stark x you #avengers reader insert #bucky barnes #tfatws #marvel imagine #gender neutral reader #sorry if its a whole bummer #tony stark & reader

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dilfbane · 3 years

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

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kinnoth · 3 years

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What's your take on Thor Ragnarok? What's your take on Thor's development within the MCU so far?I'm a fan of your posts and tags!

GREAT QUESTIONS THANK YOU FOR ASKING, THANKS FOR BEING A FAN

tldr I """"like"""" Thor's canon development now bc I've done some fucking Olympic grade backfilling and contortion to recontextualize the canon to make it meaningful, but this results in me living in my own pocket universe of an interpretation where I can't really interact with other people bc they don't subscribe to my exact reading of canon

But bro I LOVE Ragnarok. I know that can be a controversial take (I've read the meta of people who think it "slaughtered" Thor and Loki's characterisations), but I just thought it was so much fun! Like on a movie watching experience level and on a lore/meta level, it's FUN. That's not something I can say for 95% of marvel movies, which are nigh universally too dimly lit and too reliant on hateful sarcasm between characters as a substitute for a relationship.

On a meta level, I 1000% subscribe to the idea that the entire movie is a retelling that Thor is preforming for his refugees, so it's a heavily edited, exaggerated, and sillier version of events meant to keep everyone's spirits up. On the point of lore continuity, I really appreciate that thor3 makes CANON and EXPLICIT Odin's campaign of imperialist violence behind his "peaceful" reign over the nine realms, I FUCKIN LOVE IT. I LOVE the context Hela gives to their family, because she makes canon and explicit Odin's disappointments in Thor. I LOVE that Mjolnir was Hela's weapon before it was Thor's because Mjolnir was never meant to be a metric for moral goodness or readiness for rule, but a metric for a colonialist's commitment to imperialist violence on behalf of an empire WHICH IS WHY IT FINDS CAPTAIN AMERICA WORTHY BUT NOT LOKI

(btw if anyone else can draw a line between Hela and Steve Rogers that is a. representative of Odin's priorities and b. includes Thor but excludes Loki, hmu, bc this is the best I got.)

(Mjolnir rejects Thor in thor1 bc Thor was trying to conquer Jotunheim for personal glory and doesn't accept him again until he starts thinking about the good of the empire again by protecting Midgard, an imperial asset. Mjolnir rejects Loki bc Loki is a not an imperialist in service of an empire)

Off topic but I know a lot of people get hung up on Thor leaving Loki paralyzed in the parking garage, potentially to be found by the grandmasters dudes? Like people say that was unaccountably cruel and ooc for Thor. But like, ok, they killed everyone on the way up, and Thor knows his armed gladiator rebellion is on his heels also headed for the parking garage, so I dunno, I never read it as Loki was in any particular danger? But I'm a notorious Thor apologist as well as a Loki apologist so 🤷‍♂️

Things I also love: loki defunding the military to spend that money on art and infrastructure, Loki's live action thorki fanfic that Asgard unaccountably loved, Loki stonewalling Odin's attempt to reconcile bc fuck Odin, Thor's lightning powers, Bruce banner is now a Jewish grandma, Hela have I mentioned Hela love that girlboss, Jeff goldblum love that wiggly man, the Valkyrie love that angry girl, "piss off ghost", inglorious deaths for all the warriors 3, "I'm here" (screaming, crying, shaking), the story about how Loki bit Thor as a snake as well as the confirmation that they are in fact the same age

I have complicated feelings about Thor's canon development tbh. On a very ground floor sort of reaction, I despise what they did to My Boy in infinity war and endgame. I think it's a disgusting character assassination and I don't think the russos understand humour and specifically how to use humour to expand on tragedy like what thor3 did.

On the other hand, if you've read my fic and meta, you'll know that I've accepted the canon development, bc at this point, I've done a LOT of very deliberate and concerted labour to MAKE the canon development we see between thor1 and endgame WORK. But, like, there was a LOT of labour that I, specifically, put into it. It fully relies on me specifically doing a lot of digging and reaching and mining these movies for every possible frame of content to the point where I am pretty sure I've put more effort into making all the development make continuous sense than any of the screenwriters put into the actual development.

And I think I've probably just drank too much of my own Kool aid but like, I am in a position now where I do think my interpretation of Thor's character development is THE most complete and accurate reading of his character development. Key to these points are: a) I think he is an ex-imperialist who is currently and actively trying to deprogram himself from the colonialists' mindset that Odin instilled within him b) he is trying to deprogram himself from Asgard's culture of extreme toxic masculinity wherein he was not taught to have any sort of emotional processing that did not involve physical violence c) Loki is/was/always will be the person he loves best

So like, as I try to show in my thorki canonverse fics (shameless plug for myself), I can make most of the bad decisions made about Thor's character in infinity war and endgame work if I recontextualize all of his canon actions with my own (well supported, well documented) headcanon'd baggage. Of course he goes on a death wish mission to get revenge on Thanos -- he has a literal deathwish bc he was already supposed to die with Loki. Of course he sinks into an unshakeable depression afterwards -- he has no identity now that he has no family bc he was never taught to live by himself or for himself. Of course he leaves new Asgard and abdicates his rule -- he hasn't wanted a hand in the dirty business of Empire ever since Odin's ambition got his mom and brother killed in thor2, and that hasn't changed. I try to make him go through all the canon-implied feelings and anxieties and doubts in front of the reader. My entire goal of this is that people read my shit, then look at canon and think "oohh that context DOES make it better!" I will be gratified if that is the case.

(The only thing I cannot fix is the bit in endgame where Thor walks past Loki's Tupperware cell and the narrative doesn't come to a screeching fucking halt as Thor has so many feelings that he has some sort of paralytic breakdown where he simultaneously wants to commit Time Crime (tm) so he can just stay here forever and also wishes he could just die here, next to loki, like he was always supposed to. Like, that needed to happen to really lynchpin all of my work together into one smooth, problem free reading, but I'm not allowed to have nice things so)

(oh also I didn't like Thor calling frigga "mom". Shouldn't it at least be "mum"? I think "mother" is best tbh, bc I don't really read them as having that sort of relationship, see "toxic masculinity", see also "homosocial socialisation")

(and ok I get that it was a nice moment for Thor to call the hammer back to his hand, and I get that it even still works with my headcanon that mjolnir finds Thor worthy still bc Thor is defending the imperial asset that is Midgard, but like God damnit. The uncritical and unquestioning use of that word "worthy" when he catches the hammer again. Like worthy of what you guys? Do you ever ask yourself that question bc I very much do. I kinda wish they didnt bring it up at all, or if they did, it didn't come back to Thor's hand and he is just like, wistfully, "that's all right, I suspected as much. I'm such a different man now, mjolnir doesn't recognize me. I don't think I'd be alive right now if I had been the same man I was")

Wow that got long, anyway, thanks for chatting with me! Again, always a pleasure to field asks!

#internal thor tag

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noperopesaredope · 3 years

Text

Ok, so, new (actually pretty old, but I revamped most of it) fic idea!

I remembered this bad boy sitting way in the back of my pile of old fic ideas I nearly went through with, touched it up, and shall now pitch it to all my fellow Varian fans out there! (most of it was original, but then I changed it up because I was inspired by shows like “What If...” and “Loki”, so you may see some similarities, but those ideas were already there a few years before those shows, they just looked a bit different)

This post is long, so if you want to hear about it, just click the read more button.

Plot

So, this fic starts post-series, about 4 months after the finale (maybe more). Varian finds some old Demanitus designs (or maybe a hidden room full of weird equipment), and Varian being Varian decides to build it. He ends up making a weird mask and glove (the glove has a weird circle symbol on it with a couple of runes). He ends up somehow pricking his finger and some of his blood drips on the center of the circle. Varian thinks nothing of it and moves on, trying to figure out what the glove/mask can do and how he can activate them.

Suddenly, (while he’s wearing them) they start working, and a smallish portal opens up from underneath him, which he falls through. Suddenly, he’s in a whole new place, very different from anywhere he had ever seen. He begins walking around, exploring, and sees amazing things, like dragons and magic and stuff, just out and about. It’s straight up HIGH fantasy. He’s like an isekai protagonist in a fantasy world.

While Varian’s walking around, he is suddenly attacked by a group of generic monsters, but a mysterious stranger saves him. He thanks the stranger, whose face is covered, and asks if they can tell him where he is. The stranger looks him up and down before saying “far away from your home, Varian. Very far away.” Varian, surprised and a little bit suspicious, asks how this stranger knows his name, and then who they are. The stranger simply says that they are someone who can help him. They introduce themselves as “One”, and request that Varian follow them to safety.

Varian, looking around him, decides that he’d rather just trust One than get stranded, so he follows them. They find a good place to stay for the night, and One asks if they can see Varian’s glove. Varian cauciously hands it over, and One looks it over before handing it back, then decides to explain the situation.

“Varian, have you ever heard of the multiverse theory?”

“Yeah, I read about it in Demanitus’ book. It talks a bit about how there could be infinite universes parallel to our own and each other, each event creating new universes based on the alternate versions of those events. Some universes also work entirely differently from others, or the flow of time is different, so there might be a universe where everyone is a chicken, or a universe where everyone that exists now is living 100 years in the future compared to us. But everything also moves at the same pace. It’s like a time paradox. Sorry, I’m rambling. Why are we talking about the multiverse theory?”

“Well, my young alchemist, what you have there is called a thread jumper. It allows you to jump between universes, and travel the multiverse.”

“Wait, so what you’re saying is, I’m in another universe?”

“Precisely.”

After a small panic attack, One explains that they know all about this kind of stuff, since they have a jumper too, and can help get Varian home. The only problem is, Varian’s jumper isn’t working. One says they know someone who might know how to help, and they walk to a strange hut. One barges into it without knocking, shouting “what’s up Science Bitch” as they entered.

Inside is a guy reading a book, who immediately puts it down to yell at One, shouting “I’M A WIZARD YOU-” before noticing Varian. They stare at each other for a long moment, due to the fact that they are both Varian.

So, introductions are made, short existential crisises are had, and Wizard!Varian sits down to look at OG!Varian’s (That’s what I’m calling our Varian) jumper.

Turns out, Varian’s jumper is a bit weird, and requires a day or two to recharge after a jump, so they have to wait a while for it to charge (it seems that Varian can only travel using his own jumper, and can’t just hold onto One or anything). They all groan at this, but decide to take advantage of this by getting to know each other a bit. Wizard!Varian and One already know each other very well, and have a history with the multiverse stuff, but they don’t want to talk about it much with OG!Varian. Instead, they tell him a tad bit more about how some of the stuff works, and ask about his world.

After a few hours of conversation, Wizard!Varian decides to observe the jumper a little more, and finds some more bad news. So, he doesn’t know why, but it doesn’t have settings, so they have no control over where OG!Varian might end up when he teleports. Uh oh. So they might have to do a slightly more old fashioned way; just keep teleporting until they get to the right world. OG!Varian will be able to tell when he’s in the right universe though, so it should be okay! Besides, they can probably find someone to help them fix it since Wizard!Varian can’t.

So, One vows to help get Varian home, and they soon (after it finishes charging) head off. The fic will start out slightly episodic, with a bit of a “universe of the week” type format. In each one, they will meet a different Varian (since this fic is centered around the different Varian AUs. Some crossovers may happen occasionally, but there will always be a Varian there). While they are in each universe, they may end up helping the Varian there in some way or another, and later on in the story, one or two may end up joining the duo.

Eventually, the plot will pick up, and become something a bit bigger, with plenty of lore and character development for the Varians. I already have the bigger idea for the plot and most backstories already planned out in my head, but don’t want to give it away in case I starting making this proper.

Anyways, that’s my fic idea. I call it “Varian!AU” and nobody can make me change the title.

I’m probably gonna add more info and ideas in a reblogged version of this post, so look out for that on my blog!

Hope you guys think this is interesting! I’d like to hear some suggestions for AUs I could include (I already have a long list, but I want to see some other stuff people come up with)!

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otterskin · 3 years

Text

I didn't like the LOKI show, no matter how hard I try, and it's messing with me.

My mother died at the end of December. A lot of other bad things happened as well, like the severe brain injury of my father.

I didn't cry. There was so much to do. I did it. And even then, when there was nothing left to do, I didn't cry.

I found distractions.

Today I went to see the Green Knight after a tough week at a new job that had me leave my father in another province even though he still needs help. I was trying to get back to the life I'd dropped.

I loved the Green Knight. The Arthurian Legends are as dear to me as Norse Mythology, and my copy of them had the Green Knight on the cover. The film was truly excellent, evoking the feel of the story whole still doing something unique and very A24. I cried at one point, like I did when watching the first THOR, because of how much it meant to see something I'd loved since the very first years of my existence finally make it to the big screen and be...right. It's own thing, it's own artistic product, but right.

Then I opened a tab in a browser and saw I had some messages on a website I comment on. It was just some minor criticism of the LOKI show I'd posted beneath an article and how it handled certain things.

I was downvoted. Berated. Hated. Lumped in the ad hominem twitter users who attacked the director and writer (I'd never, ever!) Told I was biphobic because I wanted to see more of a queer lens (I even addressed how difficult it is for bi people in queer cinema and society in general in my criticisms of the romance, but even that wasn't good enough - just disliking it was 'bad'.) I was told I just wanted my 'fanfic' made (I never made any laundrylist of plot points I demanded). I was accused of being a begrudged shipper (ha! If anything I'm an anti-shipper). I was told that I should love the show, it was awesome, and I was bad for not thinking so.

And I started to cry.

I don't cry. Only at movies. Not at real life. I didn't cry at my grandparents's funerals, I didn't cry when I was left with the body of my mother in the hospital room and my brother cried on my shoulder. I didn't cry when working through my dad's severe new disabilities as I realized how much he had lost. I didn't cry while realizing how messy my parents' finances were. I didn't cry when my mother's friends called me in the middle of the night and cried into the phone. I didn't cry when saying goodbye to my dog and going back to a rundown apartment with a terrible smell so I could go to work in a dark room for hours at a time.

But now I'm crying and writing this.

I've realized why. During everything, I looked forward to the LOKI show. The first THOR is deeply nostalgic to me and I watched it often in my first year of Uni when I was away from home. It tied in thematically to what I was going for. Thor 2 came out before I went on exchange, and while I disliked it overall, talking about it was a welcome distraction from my anxieties. Thor 3 was nerve-wracking, but it also came out during my first major job which I was struggling with, and I saw it so many times in theatres...it was such a huge comfort.

Looking forward to LOKI wasn't just a distraction. It was like a promise. A promise that I'd make it till then and see it and maybe it'd give me some comfort.

That's on me. That's a personal thing. It's an unreasonable expectation.

But I needed it, all the same.

Then it came out.

I tried. I really tried to like it, to forgive it, but the problems are things I've criticized for too long in so many other things. I always try to be respectful about, I never go ad hominem and attack the creators, only critique their work and I always mentioned what I liked but...

I didn't like it.

I have no urge to rewatch it.

And the Green Knight...the Green Knight was everything I wanted and needed it to be. It didn't let me down, though I've been anticipating it about as long as the LOKI show. They're very different, obviously, but in my heart they share the same compartment.

And after a very trying day...I realized how badly I needed to rewatch a Loki show I liked. But I can't even enjoy THOR or Thor:Ragnarok anymore. It's like everything I did like has been poisoned.

This thing that got me through immense pain is causing me pain. I don't want to be toxic. I'm sure it's in me. I try so hard not to wallow in disappointment, but to not even be allowed to talk about my problems without being lumped in with abusive online monsters...

I can't do it. I just can't.

This is supposed to be an escape, not another trial.

I needed the LOKI show to be good, so I could come out of the dark into the light, or at least walk through the night with a lantern ahead of me. And instead it was just more darkness, and it's not even entirely its own fault. It's the online discourse. It's the uncalled for harassment of Herron and Waldron. It's the taunting jabs at people who didn't have a good time as if we're all jerks. It's having people roll their eyes when you point out things that made you uncomfortable in the story, it's feeling slightly gaslit when you find something gross that the story intended to be gross and then being told it's not gross, actually.

I'm sorry. I don't want to cause pain. I just...

I needed it to be good. And unlike Thor 3, which delivered me respite in a dark time...it let me down. Worse, it's hurt me.

I said I don't cry, only at the movies. Something about them lets me cry in a way nothing else does. I can't cry at a funeral, but I can cry in a movie theatre at the drop of a hat. It's a release valve, a way for me to process things.

I think I was waiting for LOKI to give me permission to cry. To give me something that could release this pain in me. And instead, it just gave me more.

I never should have given it that power. I didn't want to. But I had to, to get through this.

I'm putting away the few THOR pieces of tat I have. I feel foolish. I always knew it was a capitalist piece of art, chucked from creator to creator with no creative shepherd, which in itself was stressful.

The fandom is no sanctuary for me either, since I'm primarily interested in the family dynamics and I'm sick of 'Odin is an ABUSIVE MONSTER' stories or even unrelated fics and posts just dropping in hate for him that's not at all canon but seems to be very popular to the point where people think it is. Especially since I often read these stories when I need to think of home and my father. Or, most pleasantly of all, when I get called an abuser or abuser-enabler because I say I like Odin as a character. I also can't really bear to deal with anything to do with Sylvie, whom I had high hopes for as someone who wants more female tricksters, but instead I got this...this Mary Sue that's very hard to criticize without being yelled at. I swear I'm coming at her writing as a feminist and I don't hate anyone, I don't, I just...sigh. She's just personally frustrating to me and not being able to discuss it without being called names sucks.

Not to mention I'm asexual, and I always struggle with romance in media being pushed as the 'ultimate relationship more important than any other'. Part of the reason I liked THOR so much was that romance was not the main feature of THOR and definitely not THOR 3 (while my disliked Dark World was all about it, and so is LOKI). And when I criticize the romance, I get called a prude (guilty, I guess), a troll, or, my favourite, just 'a hater'.

I don't want to hate. Who wants that poison in their veins? I'm here because the Thor series HELPED me because I LOVED it. And now I look at the things I used to love and I...don't, anymore.

So much is asked of me right now. I can't willingly invite this painful thing to sit on my chest as well, especially since the world is already shoving it into my face without my doing anything, in ads, in news, in everything.

I suppose that's why I've leaned even more into Odin lately. He was untouched by the LOKI series (though not the Simpson special, which worries me). He's a trickster, he's queer, he's nuanced, he's 'misunderstood' (that old cliche, but he's misunderstood and misrepresented by the people always yelling about how this or that character is misunderstood, which amuses me, except when it gets to me), and he's in many ways free to make my own.

I still have some stuff I'm going to publish that's practically finished. Finnesang has a lot more written for it but needs some major sit-down time for re-writes and edits. Lokabrenna is practically done, just needs tweaks and Beta. I'll be here a little longer.

But I think I'm going to have to step back for now and put my passions into other things.

I will be back. After all, after Thor 2 came Thor 3. Maybe Love and Thunder will right the ship and Thor can still be awesome, and maybe eventually a creative I love will come to work on the franchise. Really, that's the key for me - I loved Branagh before THOR, and loved Waititi before Thor, and disliked Waldron's work (though I gave him every benefit of the doubt and hoped and prayed to be wrong - sadly, it was what I expected.)

But...if LOKI season 2 is more of this, more romantic tropes I hate and Loki being an afterthought in his own show and his family being devalued for new characters...I can't do it. I can't watch something I used to love just throw that all away for something I dislike.

My tears are finally drying. I wrote a lot of this while the screen was blurry, so I hope there's no grammar or typo too embarrasing. I'm not sure I have the strength to re-read it. Sorry for the rant. It helped me feel better.

Thank you all. I hope I feel differently someday.

#loki show #loki 2021 #meta #loki thoughts #personal #update

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lailyn · 3 years

Note

Argh, I know, I shouldn't be greedy, but I just love a good whump fic and I love Strangefrost and I love your writing... so, might I humbly ask for another?? Maybe?? For the - I don't know - the digestive system maybe?

Here ya go! This one's a bit longer, it kinda got away from me. 😅

A Fool For You

It began with a relic gone missing. A sword forged in blood and tears, the sword was said to have been used to lop off the head of a tyrannical emperor after he had used it to slaughter his own brothers, all six of them.

It was a dangerous katana that required a calming ritual at every turn of the century to temper its blade, for it could turn the susceptible, the most innocent into murderous monsters.

Stephen had been lucky to escape unharmed that morning when he awoke to the blade pressed against his throat, wielded by an invisible hand, controlled by long-range magic.

Stephen had been lucky Loki was there to banish the spectral intruder and restore the katana to its resting place in the Sanctum vault under lock and key.

Reading the blade that had almost taken his human from him only led them back to Kamar-Taj, but the trail ended there.

There was a traitor in their midst.

"Nothing's going to happen to me."

Or so Stephen kept insisting.

Loki was no fool. It would take more than vapid assurances to assuage this urge in him to tear whoever dared harm a hair on Stephen's head limb from limb.

Wong thought it could be a Zealot who might have escaped from having to join Kaecilius on his eternal journey to be one with the Dark Lord Dormammu.

Stephen made a sound argument of the low probability, seeing how the Dark Dimension was as good as sealed forever with the Book of Cagliostro gone, but Loki had disguised himself as one of them that very night and searched each and every Master, fellow and apprentice for the telltale mark on the forehead.

If someone cared for his opinion, Loki thought Stephen was being too complacent with his life.

"Loki, I am not going to lock myself up in the Mirror Dimension!"

Stephen had the gall to laugh at Loki's suggestion. For that, Loki did not speak to him for an entire day.

As the night grew closer, Stephen had given up trying to apologise for something he did not believe he did wrong and resigned himself to the idea of attending the communal dinner at Kamar-Taj without his plus one. Sorcerer Supremes had traditionally been lonesome creatures, and initially Stephen even thought of himself as such.

Until he met Loki.

Stephen abhorred gossip. If the Sorcerer Supreme and the (reformed) God of Mischief were indeed an item, he would rather come clean about it than suffer salacious stories being passed around behind his back.

But since Loki was a no-show, Stephen was going to suffer them for one more day, until he could figure out what to do...or what not to do. When it came to Loki, abstaining was just as important.

So that was how Stephen had come to sit at the head of the table, flanked by a representative from the other two Sanctums. Wong had drawn the short straw by virtue of his being Stephen's second-in-command and sadly had to stay behind in New York.

A young man barely out of his teens came to the high table with a set of tea.

“A new apprentice. I recruited him from the streets of Kowloon City,” Master Murata murmured in the Sorcerer Supreme’s ear. “I think he’s got potential.”

Stephen looked at the scabies burrows in the webs between the boy’s fingers, the badly damaged nails from a chronic nail-biting problem superimposed with a fungal infection.

Must have been homeless, he deduced. Family problems? A runaway?

Stephen watched as the boy poured a pinkish golden liquid into the three cups in front of them. It glittered with edible gold petals.

“Sour plum tea,” Master Murata nodded in approval. He held up his cup, “Here’s to our Sorcerer Supreme. May you live in interesting times.”

If the wording sounded odd, it could only be due to the Guardian of the Hong Kong Sanctum’s oriental heritage.

Stephen surreptitiously waited for both Guardians to finish drinking first before raising his own cup to his lips to take his first sip.

"Sorcerer Supreme, there you are!"

"Wong?" Stephen's forehead furrowed at the sight of his friend marching down the dais toward him. "What are you doing here?"

Wong grabbed the cup out of the Sorcerer Supreme's hand and drank it all in one gulp.

"That hit the spot," he declared, delicately fingering the corners of his lips.

"M-Master Wong," Master Murata stammered.

"What's gotten into you?" Stephen muttered. He held out the empty cup for a refill, but Wong quickly grabbed his wrist. "Wong!"

The apprentice scurried away with the tray; Wong followed the retreating form with his eyes until the boy disappeared amongst the dinner crowd.

With a wide smile Stephen had never seen the likes of it on Wong’s face before, his best friend boldly grabbed him around the wrist and yanked him out of his seat. "This is simply no time to be drinking! Come, I have much to tell you!"

"It's just tea," Stephen grumbled, more curious than embarrassed at being manhandled in public.

Just as they passed a few Masters in the hall, Wong stumbled and would have fallen had Stephen not caught his friend.

“Really, Wong, one would think you had been imbibing…” Stephen's voice trailed off at the sight of perspiration dotting his friend's forehead. “Wong?”

“Take me to your room,” Wong grunted, and Stephen froze, for Wong’s voice suddenly sounded so much like -

“Loki?”

In the blink on an eye, Stephen teleported them to his room and Wong slowly sank to his knees with a soft, forlorn sigh; his form shimmered as all manner of glamour dropped, revealing Loki's shaking form.

At the tell-tale shudder, Stephen quickly grabbed a trash can from under his desk and shoved it under Loki's head just in time to catch the first of his stomach contents.

"Poison?"

Loki nodded frantically as another wave of extreme nausea surged up his gullet.

"But how? We were all drinking the same thing!" Stephen demanded.

“It wasn't the tea,” Loki gasped. “It was the cup.”

"If you knew it was poisoned, why couldn't you have just told me? Why did you have to drink it?" Stephen berated.

"Now you have evidence," Loki managed in between gasps. "Somebody was trying to kill you."

Loki lashed out a hand which his lover caught unthinkingly; into Stephen's palm Loki pressed the ceramic cup he had drunk from.

"It's the lacquer," he wheezed; the pain raging in his stomach was making it difficult to breathe. "It...reacted with the gold leaf. Turned the tea."

Stephen stared at the object in his hand. True enough, the urushiol lacquer had corroded away, leaving behind a suspicious white deposit that had formed a sediment at the bottom of the cup.

Loki had done it all on purpose...impersonating Wong, stealing Stephen's drink right under his nose and making sure everyone saw him drink out of the Sorcerer Supreme's cup -

And stumbling in the hallway with witnesses around had been in part an act, the rest of it very, very real...as real as the blood dribbling down Loki’s chin as his body tried to purge the poison. He heaved and heaved uncontrollably into the trash can, his long hair limp and matted to his scalp like a crown of thorns.

But before Stephen could hold his hair back for him, another violent cramp folded Loki in half, his desperate cry of the kind Stephen had never heard out of the God of Mischief before.

"Oh, Loki…" Stephen could not help but moan. "Why must you always do this?"

Loki shuddered and wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. He slowly sank to the floor, prostrating on the tatami mat, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.

"I'll live," he sighed. "You wouldn't have."

Stephen leveled his writhing lover with a frosty look. "What made you think I could live with this on my conscience?"

Loki's eyes fluttered to a close. "As long as you lived, I don't particularly care."

Stephen heaved a sigh of frustration and sickening anxiety. "What can I do?"

"Hang the perpetrators by their entrails, that would be a start," Loki groaned. He curled up as tightly as his cramping muscles would allow. "Norns!"

Stephen rummaged through his apothecary cabinet and waved potion after potion of possible remedial value, only for every jar to be waved away.

"I've purged it all." Loki bared teeth slick with blood in a grotesque grimace as he tried to breathe through the worst of the cramps. "It's just the sequelae now."

Tears sprang to Stephen's eyes as he dropped onto his knees next to his ill lover. "You are such a fool."

Loki chuckled weakly. "Ah yes, that I am. A fool for you."

A furious tear escaped and made its way down Stephen's cheek. He gathered Loki's long limbs in his arms and lifted the trembling figure gently into his lap, holding him upright. "I'm such a fool."

"Stephen, don't." Utterly exhausted, Loki could do no more than squeeze the protective arm around his neck. "I'm alright. Truly."

"I will find whoever did this," he heard Stephen vow in his ear and the tension drained out of Loki's body like water.

"Good," Loki hummed faintly.

If putting himself in jeopardy was what it took to get Stephen to give a damn about his own life...then Loki had no objection whatsoever. Nor had he any objection to the comfortable weight of Stephen's hand on his aching belly, or to the healing magic furious at work, aiding the repair of any internal damage caused by the poison.

"I am going to sleep now," Loki murmured, sagging in Stephen's embrace like a sack of bones.

As Loki drifted off into a restorative slumber, he could hear Stephen mumble something in his ear. It sounded a lot like 'I love you', but Loki could not be sure.

Stephen was just going to have to say it again when next he awakened.

#strangefrost #loki #froststrange #loki whump #sick loki #fic #ask #doctor strange

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helahades · 3 years

Text

the sexiest wip list

alright! reminder that this is a dark fic blog. dark fics are not just noncon, but uncomfortable subject matter and questionable thought processes and unreliable povs. control your media experience and read warnings carefully! they’ll be updated when the actual story releases, but these are wips, and i don’t know them all bc I simply have not finished these stories!

some darker warnings on this list include: threats of sexual violence, obsession, death, and previously mentioned unreliable povs from obsessive characters who justify themselves.

final reminder to read warnings! some of these are intense.

1) Jealous Thor (Untitled)

warnings: cheating, mean!reader, angst

You’re falling for Steve right under his nose. Each day, Thor feels you pull farther away. Each night, he squeezes his eyes shut as you lie asleep next to him, and tries to forget the way you lookat Steve these days with hunger and adoration that you once gave to him.

“He is earthly. For all his body’s and mind’s possession of unnatural experimental growth, he is earthly and limited, so Thor can’t understand why you’re drawing away from him, and telling Steve the jokes, giving Steve all the looks that had him hooked. The lingering eyes and touches… they ride the line of decency.”

—

2) Heimdall Angst (Untitled)

warnings: major character death, grief, existentialism, out of body experiences

Connected by incredible wisdom and duty to fate, you and The Gatekeeper of Asgard are pulled together by the unique pairing of your mutual seeing abilities—made for greatness, and destined for tragedy.

This story stretches from the moment that catalyzes your meeting, across the years of loving him, to the moment you lose him.

“A fateful tragedy. He sees an arrow through a dove.

He wonders how he missed your encounter with him in the whispers of the cosmos.

“—They’re star deaths,” you say abruptly, “the ones that move and change color. They speed up when you watch them—show their whole life to come...I read about them. Most can’t ever see them life this”.

Turning to where you stand beside him, his eyes swirl with the magic of knowing you, of your destinies combined. He sees you stare at his stars like they’re new.

“Only us.”

—

3) Away from the Party - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, dubcon, roughness, manipulation, unintentional exhibition

Steve hates these parties. After a mission, the work has just begun, and he fumes at the impossible way that Tony covers all problems in diamonds and pearls. Some things aren’t meant to be pretty.

You are. You’re soft, and kind, and you coax him gently away from the party—the source of his frustrations, with promises of leaving early, of calming down. Oh. He’ll calm down. And you’re just the toy to help. In a closet a corner away from the government’s finest, America’s golden boy has a hand on your throat and one demand.

“Keep quiet.”

“Of course, you both ended up at the party anyway, but with you swirling cool fingertips at his aching temples and rubbing softly over the stretch marks on his chest, he couldn’t find anything in heart to disagree with you then.

Even now with his erection pressed to you through barriers of clothing, with scarcely retrained and monstrous lust, he is steadily calmed by your presence. This rush, the secrecy—it excites him. And you pull him through the haze of it.”

—

4) Monster Thor Headcanons

warnings: wound and gore descriptions, some sadness

The fantasy of it all. Aesthetic, Lifestyle, Behavior. Some talking points include: hair, horns, hints about how he was influenced by a soft and charming lover many years ago, general horniness. Also spoiler that I’ve decided that He is 8ft tall

“Thor is...ancient. he is a being of war and folklore and raw energy and he’s earthy and elemental and connected. and form follows function. (and also whatever horny thoughts we want )”

—

5) The Call

warnings: voyeurism, death threats, obsession, implied sexual assault threats

When Frank comes to visit you, you beam like a sunflower. You’ve rearranged your room, and you’re excited about it. He would like to revel in the moment with you...but he’s caught up in one detail. Your bed is pushed against the window...and he can’t convince you to let him move it.

After a night of sin and wild lovemaking, you lie asleep bathed in moonlight, and Frank wakes to a call. Billy. He’s set up on a rooftop miles away, and he’s got things to say about Frank’s girl and what he’d like to do to her. A red dot on his chest means he can only listen. To your gentle snoring, and to the twisted fantasy of a brother unhinged.

“Black silk pajamas. Hair wrapped up in satin. Yellow light almost like sun stretches to the ceiling, but not quite over the rolling hills of your silhouette turned away from him in quiet sleep.

Frank’s hardly got the time to wonder why he’s awake, because his phone buzzes slow again. Pulls the moment he realizes he will have to break this magic peace to molasses and he half fills his lungs before huffing it out and flipping the phone open and tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“What.”

“She’s a reaaaaal pretty one, Frankie boy. You sure know how to pick em.”

—

6) Loki Longing (Untitled)

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, angst

On the Eve of the birth of Asgard’s heir, Thor is away. In a bath of flowers and magic to ease your pain, maidens worry over you, and Loki rescues you away, letting you rest in bed, and dreaming of the days when you were his lover instead.

“I’d like to rest…in my bed now, please.”

The ladies look to each other. It hasn’t been long enough for the herbs to take effect.

“My Queen,” the eldest starts—

“She is certainly your queen,” a silky silver timbre interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s best to mind her.”

His eyes fall to your form, and some blocked conflict—some guarded affection rests there. Some longing tucked in a pocket like an impossible secret.

—

7) With Child - Obsessive Steve

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, obsessive Steve

Watching you content, and very pregnant, as you gaze adoringly at your husband Thor from where you rest, half in his lap, Steve can’t help but fantasize. He thinks about impregnating you, the mechanics of sex with a pregnant woman, and being the god who does it all.

“Do you have to lie on your side? Is Thor just behind you, spooning you, fucking with desperate thrusts because you drive him so crazy this way? Steve has heard—and he doesn’t know where—that women get wetter when with child. Steve can’t help but wonder...does Thor need to hold one leg up for you—to save your back that’s so often heavy with the weight of supporting his legacy?”

—

8) Dean’s Girl

warnings: unreliable pov (john), voyeurism, masturbation + voyeurism

John notices the way you avoid him. You always seem to leave a room just as he’s coming into it. He’s living in the bunker now, and having to realize a lot of things that have changed for the both of his sons.

For example, his oldest, the last he’d ever think would fall in love, has got a pretty girl that dismisses her practical father in law with pointed boredom. She’s protective—how can he blame her after all that he’d put Dean through?

She’s pretty, and John is only a man, and can’t stop himself from just...looking. It starts with a convenient bend as she unloads the dishwasher...then he..can’t help that the door was open and she happened to be changing right there. He also can’t help it the next time when he’s just a little too obvious, pleasuring himself to the smell of her pretty lace panties.

—

9) Operator, Operator - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, financial troubles?, mentions of creepiness against and danger to sex workers, exhibitionism via phone call

Underpaid and overworked, you along with your roommate/secret crush/ best friend Steve have trouble making ends meet on minimum wage + his art commissions. When you start picking up calls on a phone sex line, he’s able to reason. It’s quick cash, and Steve is mature enough to keep his thoughts appropriate...at first.

One day, he wakes to the sound of breathy moans and a faked orgasms. He wonders how you would sound if only you were high on real pleasure...and there’s no time like the present. Don’t hang up. This call has only just started.

“By the time this year—junior year—swung around, Steve realized he was only catching glimpses of you. He would hear the shake of your keys when you tossed them on the counter, your backpack when it thudded to the floor, and most recently—your moans.

You must not know he’s home. Ever since you started online sex work, specifically being a phone sex operator, you seemed to also make the silent choice that more graphic calls would be saved for when he’s not around.

He gets it. You both split the rent, and Steve has done jobs he’d rather not mention in desperate times, when commissions came short. Still, sometimes you can’t tell when he’s here, and despite his best efforts to push down his arousal, to tell himself you’re his best friend...he’s an artist, and he can’t help but listen, and certainly not the wandering of his imagination.”

—

10) Professor Steve Medfet - (Untitled)

In an alternate timeline, a washed up Steve Rogers starts a new life in a run down city as an art / anatomy teacher. A class of hungry college students is filled to the brim each year, expecting the unspoken promise of their favorite hands on lab. You.

You keep his class sated, in turn giving the professor job security for funding his simple life out of the public eye. Each year when he calls, you come. Each year the students find a new way to tear you embarrass and degrade, much to the pleasure of the professor.

“Same speech. Same meaningless words. Focusing on the stillness of your skin and how it feels to be alone, you can almost drown out the way his tone edges toward excitement, the way the chairs shift and squeak—the anticipation.

Pretending your heart doesn’t send heat and cold flashes through you and run your breathing shallow, you look at the nicks in the door and try to guess their stories.

But then the metal frame clicks, the door unlatches. Professor Rogers wears a gentle smirk. It doesn’t ease your mind one bit.”

—

11) Swelter - Forest God Thor

warnings: sexual scenes, time limited conflict, religious themes

With a sickness overtaking nearby villages, yours is next, and has decided to sacrifice you to the cause of foraging for preventative herbs. You venture into the ancient woods after a rare vine of flowers, but leave with much more after encountering Thor.

After disturbing him where he lies cooling in the bank of a stream, you vow to prove the true intention of your soul—that you aren’t a hunter, or witch after his form or faculty, but a pious girl, also needing to escape the heat.

“You’re in the old woods now, and aside from the trees and the mossy nature tangled around them, there is only Him. Thor.

God of the harvest, bringer of land’s wealth, fertility, and vitality. You know of the sacrifices, of the woods where He is rumored to live in an unseen form, of livid white fire in the sky if He is severely displeased.

His name must not be spoken outside of prayer or ritual, and even now, you stutter to think it, and wonder if you are alone in your thoughts.”

[...]

“The frustration and the fear in your dilemma disturb the air, disquieting the otherwise enduring peace of the old woods, which rouses a large form in the cool muddy bank of the stream. It is only leaves shifting at first. Faded pumpkin and dried oak scatter—and suddenly the air smells like rain and your mouth sets around the tastes of copper and sage. Then, the leaves tumble off of a beast of a mass that rises slowly, and you note that it felt like the atmosphere changed to accommodate its awakening.”

—

12) Halloween Party - Thor Smut (Untitled)

warnings: smut, heartbreak, depressed!reader

An exclusive and mysterious Halloween party is still on this year—and you’re invited. It’s meant to be so extravagant and flashy an Avenger will one day attend, and all attendees decorate themselves in costumes inspired by the heroes, hoping to be noticed.

Fresh after a breakup with your boyfriend Brock, you take one half of the preordered couples costume and dress up as a goddess, determined to have a good night with your friends, find some excitement, and most importantly, a new god to match.

“Standing solemn, floor to ceiling windows allow in a few milky rays reflected by the moon, but they’re all the gems of your bodice need to gleam to a suitor's eye. Tonight, while you plan to rid your soul of another, you are welcomed with open arms and careful consideration as the final offering at an altar. You are seen by a god.”

—

13) Grief

warnings: dead!reader, guilt, grief, scary science, how do i say this... smut that is borderline necroph—there’s a replica of you, dark!steve, tony lives, pepper dies

Steve’s world is upside down. He’s lost the light of his life, and is completely in the dark. Luckily for him, Tony is back in the business of reality rejecting technology, and has found a way for him to be with you again.

At an abandoned cottage, Steve brings an armful of your scents to give the Tony’s invention sensory data, and faces the strange reality of what’s always been his worst stage...his worst trait. Denial.

“Dozens of test bottles full of manufactured scents, the kind of thing you smell borrowing a sweater, or with your face in the crook of someone’s neck. Essentially, the sort of organic thing that cannot be recaptured.

Steve’s got an armful of perfume and body wash. Of conditioner and deodorant, of all the elements he can think that make you smell the way you would—the way you do.

He wills the thoughts to be present tense. If he pretends you are alive, maybe it will look like it is you only sleeping. He wonders how well Tony knows the texture of your hair suddenly, because if it isn’t right, the experience will fall to shambles. It currently walks a plank over shambles. One wrong interpretation or surprise, and Steve will find himself spinning and burning with the fall into a new and uncharted taboo.”

14) Night Drive - Dean Smut

warnings: road head

On a long overnight drive, your back pressed into the seat of the impala makes you miss lying in bed with your lover, makes you miss his gentle caress right next to you...so you remind him how good it is to be close.

“You think about it when he hums a little tune. When he hums the song he wishes would play and thinks will come up next, it is eerily soft, and eerily similar to the soft contentment he sighs when you kiss on his neck.

When he reaches for your hand to hold, it makes you consider the shortness of the distance between you, and you think of pulling his cock out right here, giving him head that melts him here on this endless road.

Looking at him, he senses your interest—he turns his head to meet your eyes, throws up a grin of boyish charm. He’s happy to be here with you. These night drives are fine. He’s never minded them. But they’re even lovelier when in your company.”

—

15) Shadow - The Bucky Mystery

warnings: stalking, injury, sexual assault, canon typical hydra torture, mentions of bucky being forced to assault people, traumatized reader

On the run from Hydra, there aren’t many things that Bucky can remember. Inside his mind, there aren’t many feelings that make sense. Mostly, he feels guilt. Horror.

Following you to the gym where you practice ballet alone in the nights is all that makes sense, and for reasons he can’t explain, he feels drawn to you.

As time goes on, Bucky feels more enticed by his desire, you start to feel eyes staring from the walls, motivations and traumas are revealed, and in a horrible symphony, you both remember your connection.

“He’s a matte shadow against the noir shine of metal walls—an observer in the unlit quiet on his side of the room.

And he feels his unimportance. It’s humbling. Holds up the room like chunky beams and high rafters, dressed in the same layered neutrals. Framing the same cotton candy dancer, silent as the pad of her slippers when she turns her weight onto a straight leg, other coming up with her ankle pointed to the bend of her knee.

She spins, she spins and she whips her head around with each one, but it’s Bucky who gets dizzy.”

send an ask with any questions, or for more details about a particular story!

#which wip #follower poll #future fic hints #update

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